"Good gracious! Here is Japan going to run its own civilisation without learning a language in which you can say Damn satisfactorily. I must inquire into this."
Chance had brought me opposite the office of a newspaper, and I ran in demanding an editor. He came—the Editor of the Tokio Public Opinion, a young man in a black frock-coat. There are not many editors in other parts of the world who would offer you tea and a cigarette ere beginning a conversation. My friend had but little English. His paper, though the name was printed in English, was Japanese. But he knew his business. Almost before I had explained my errand, which was the pursuit of miscellaneous information, he began: "You are English. How you think now the American Revision Treaty?" Out came a note-book and I sweated cold. It was not in the bargain that he should interview me.
"There's a great deal," I answered, remembering Sir Roger, of blessed memory,—"a great deal to be said on both sides. The American Revision Treaty—h'm—demands an enormous amount of matured consideration and may safely be referred—"
"But we of Japan are now civilised."
Japan says that she is now civilised. That is the crux of the whole matter so far as I understand it. "Let us have done with the idiotic system of treaty-ports and passports for the foreigner who steps beyond them," says Japan in effect. "Give us our place among the civilised nations of the earth, come among us, trade with us, hold land in our midst. Only be subject to our jurisdiction and submit to our—tariffs." Now since one or two of the foreign nations have won special tariffs for their goods in the usual way, they are not over-anxious to become just ordinary folk. The effect of accepting Japan's views would be excellent for the individual who wanted to go up-country and make his money, but bad for the nation. For Our nation in particular.
All the same I was not prepared to have my ignorance of a burning question put down in any note-book save my own. I Gladstoned about the matter with the longest words I could. My friend recorded them much after the manner of Count Smorltork. Then I attacked him on the subject of civilisation—speaking very slowly because he had a knack of running two words of mine together, and turning them into something new.
"You are right," said he. "We are becoming civilised. But not too quick, for that is bad. Now there are two parties in the State—the Liberal and the Radical: one Count he lead one, one Count lead the other. The Radical say that we should swiftly become all English. The Liberal he says not so quick, because that nation which too swiftly adopt other people's customs he decay. That question of civilisation and the American Revision Treaty he occupied our chief attentions. Now we are not so zealous to become civilised as we were two—three years gone. Not so quick—that is our watchword. Yes."
If matured deliberation be the wholesale adoption of imperfectly understood arrangements, I should dearly like to see Japan in a hurry. We discussed comparative civilisations for a short time, and I protested feebly against the defilement of the streets of Tokio by rows of houses built after glaring European models. Surely there is no need to discard your own architecture, I said.
"Ha," snorted the chief of the Public Opinion. "You call it picturesque. I call it too. Wait till he light up—incendiate. A Japanese house then is one only fire box. That is why we think good to build in European fashion. I tell you, and you must believe, that we take up no change without thinking upon it. Truth, indeed, it is not because we are curious children, wanting new things, as some people have said. We have done with that season of picking up things and throwing them down again. You see?"
"Where did you pick up your Constitution, then?"