Japan by the Japanese/Chapter 26

Of late I have often been told by Europeans that Japan had made extraordinary progress in so short a time as thirty or forty years. Some even go so far as saying that it was a matter of amazement, as Japan must have been in a state of semi-barbarism before that time. The phase of our modern progress is new, and, of course, we recognise our great indebtedness to the Western nations; we frankly avow that our present forward movement in the path of civilization is mainly based upon European methods of thought and reasoning. But, at the same time, I must say that it would be a matter of great misconception if the Europeans were to think that this kind of complete transformation was possible without some solid antecedents which would have made it feasible.

Japan has had ideas and feelings of her own for many centuries; without some intimate knowledge of those ideas and feelings it would seem almost impossible for outsiders to understand what Japan is, and hence their amazement. The ideas and feelings of a nation are chiefly manifested, and are mainly traceable, in objects of art and in works of literature. I am glad to see that there are numerous books published in European languages, English being the principal one of them, if not the foremost. I have glanced at some of them; their generalization and classification are generally splendid, always displaying the excellent scholastic attainments of the Western writers, though in the domain of literature their number seems to be less than in that of the arts. From these I can say that there is plenty of means for Westerners to study the history of the ideas and feelings of Japan without much difficulty. They are, no doubt, already studied to a great extent by a certain section of Western people, but it seems that this is done by them more for the sake of art or literature as such, and not for the sake of studying the Japanese ideas and feelings. Our hopes are that it should be done so more in the near future with the aim of understanding the Japanese. If these books are not popular reading, why should there not ​be some modified editions or special books written by good writers for this purpose? While paying this tribute to the Western books of the kind, it must be understood that now and then almost ridiculous errors are committed, in spite of the profundity and minuteness of the writers’ researches. I have often seen in the Japanese newspapers ‘Pall Mall’ being phonetically written as if it had the sounds of ‘paul maul,’ basing their analogy upon such words as hall or wall; and I have once seen the word ‘ball,’ in the sense of a dancing-party, translated as a game at ball in the sense of a round object. This kind of mistake is only natural for foreigners, and therefore it is not a matter of surprise that on the part of the Europeans they should also commit similar mistakes in the matter of the terms employed by Oriental nations. With all Mr. W. G. Aston’s knowledge of Japan, in his ‘Japanese Literature,’ which I have just peeped into here and there, I found ‘Koga’ (name of a country seat of a Daīmio, a patron of the famous Hakuseki) written as ‘Furukawa,’ a mistake arising from reading the Chinese character in a more common Japanese way; and, again, I found him describing the father of Hakuseki as a ‘Metsuke’ or inspector of the Daīmio’s Yedo Mansion, and adding a footnote to ‘Metsuke’ thus: ‘This is the word usually rendered “spy.” ’ ‘Metsuke’ means a superintendent, inspector, or overseer. It was formerly employed to designate certain offices held by individuals who might be in some instances of high rank and in others of lower rank, the distinction being made by the addition of a prefix indicative of the duties involved. If, therefore, he means to say ‘Metsuke’ equals inspector he is correct, though if he means it equals inspector of the Daīmio’s Yedo Mansion he is wrong. But to speak of it as equivalent to a spy is detestable, and I am at a total loss to imagine how and whence he could have got such a notion. How much more are similar errors to be anticipated in works undertaken by less competent hands! In books written by foreigners, moreover, it often happens, when carefully scrutinized by the native eye, that some important points are overlooked, and that trivial points are treated with great prominence. These kinds of mistakes, however, must be overlooked, and on the whole I recognise the far outweighing merits in those books written by the Westerners on those subjects we are speaking of. They may be read with advantage for the purpose I recommend.

The subject is so wide and complicated that it is a matter of absolute impossibility to deal with it satisfactorily in a short article; further reference, therefore, must be had to some good ​books on the subject. I would, however, herein sketch the general outline of the history of our art and our notions about it. The Nara period, which corresponds to the Western eighth century, was one of the great, if not the greatest, epochs of our art. Nara was our Imperial capital preceding that of Kyoto. The remnants of the art of this period, including many of the previous century, are to be seen to this day mostly in the Prefecture of Nara. The highest excellence of art attained at this period was in the images, both in bronze and wood, and also in the dried lacquers; the pictorial art was also excellent, side by side with the architectural. Even artificial stone (concrete) was in use. Many of the Buddhistic temples of olden times are still remaining, and numerous images of the above description are to be seen in them, besides an Imperial museum. Nara, with its suburban districts, is one of the few localities possessing exceptional interest for foreign visitors. I would not for a moment dare to place the art products of Japan on the same level with those of the Greeks, but it is most flattering to us that when our sculpture of this period is spoken of by experts some references are generally made to those of the Greek, and some kind of comparison is drawn. Dr. Anderson, speaking of this period in his ‘Pictorial Art of Japan,’ sums it up as follows, which will give my readers a fair idea of the period:

‘Whatever be the credibility of the majority of the early records, it is certain that the level reached by the Japanese in the sculpture of metals upwards of a thousand years ago was remarkably high, and many of the products of this period of art culture demonstrate a breadth of conception and a courage of effort that could only emanate from an intellectual and energetic race; but, unfortunately, the subsequent errors have contributed little to increase the fame won by the authorship of the great bronzes that adorned the ancient capital of Nara.’

Captain Brinkley says in his great work on Japan, after alluding to the originality of the Japanese of this period (though, at the same time, his according to its pictures only a secondary place is perhaps open to criticism):

‘Men that could conceive and construct the colossal bronze figure of Vairochana Buddha at Nara, and numerous images preserved in the temple there, cannot have experienced much necessity to employ Chinese or Corean hands. Nevertheless, though glyptic art, the lacquerer’s art, and the inlayer’s art unquestionably attained to a high stage of development in this epoch, pictorial art remained in a secondary place … the features which constitute the chief charm as well as the speciality of Japanese genius in later ages had not yet been evolved … but as sculptors they unquestionably stand at the head of Far Eastern artists, and although the degree of supremacy varied from age to age, the fact could never be questioned.’

​As a matter of fact, the colossal Daibutsu, bronze Buddha, of Nara, as also other similar objects, would be worth anyone’s seeing. It is true the head of the great Buddha of Nara is not good—it is comparatively a new one put up by far less competent hands after the original head had been lost in a fire caused by war; but from the artistic surroundings of other parts, it is assumed by competent native experts that the head must have been equally as good as, if not better than, that of the great Buddha of Kamakura, which was a product of the latter part of the twelfth century. Of this latter big Buddha, all experts of the Western nations agree in placing it in a very high position among the art products of the world. I may here only give an extract from ‘The Ornamental Art of Japan,’ quoted from a French expert, who winds up his analytical observations thus:

‘A people who could thus embody the most illusive of metaphysical mysteries must have had an exceedingly lofty conception of the capacities of art.’

After Nara we come to the Heian period. Heian is modern Kyoto. It was our Imperial capital, lasting from after the Nara period to the beginning of the present Imperial régime, for eleven centuries; but when we speak of it as a period we mean about four centuries of its early part. Art flourished, together with general culture, to a very high degree in this period, but somewhat in a different way from that of the Nara epoch. In the Nara period we have seen that art achieved a very high standard, but it was, as it seems, subservient to religion. It does not seem to have played its part independently as such; hence the individuality of an artist did not make much distinctive mark. If a picture was painted it was almost always a religious subject, and it was used for religious objects, not as a product of an artist for the sake of associating his name with it, and admiring his representation of the picture as a picture. But in the Heian period things seem to have changed to a significant degree, especially in pictorial art, which came to be admired as such, and individuality in artists became more marked in the public estimation. It was then that artists like Kanaoka and Nobuzane appeared. Pictures founded upon scenes in narratives or actual landscapes came to be generally appreciated. On the whole, the art of the Heian period seems to have become more extensive. To show in what sort of relationship pictorial art and society stood towards each other in this period, there is a very good illustration in the famous ‘Genji Monogatari,’ contained in a chapter under the title of ‘Ye-awase,’ which means ‘pairings of pictures.’ At that period there was a very common practice of so-called ‘uta-awase,’ which means ‘pairings of poems.’ It was done in this way: Ladies and gentlemen who were versed in composing poems were to meet at an appointed place at an appointed ​time, and successive competitions would be made by pairing two of them at a time, one on the left and one on the right, the competitors producing their verses and submitting them to competent critics, who would judge which side of the pair was the better, and when one pair’s work was finished with, that of the next pair went through the same scrutiny. The pairings of pictures were no doubt an imitation of the pairings of poems. The performance of the pairings of pictures appears rather quaint, but it will give a very good idea of the society of the time, so I give below a full account of it from my own translation of the ‘Genji Monogatari’:

‘The Emperor was very fond of pictures, and painted with considerable ability. Lady Plum, too, as it happened, possessed the same taste as the Emperor, and used often to amuse herself by painting. If, therefore, he liked ordinary courtiers who exhibited a taste for painting, it was no matter of surprise that he liked to see the delicate hands of the lady occupied in carefully laying on colours. This similarity of taste gradually drew his attention to her, and led to frequent visits to the “Plum chamber.” When Gon-Chiunagon was informed of these circumstances, he took the matter into his own hands. He himself determined to excite a spirit of rivalry. He contrived means to counteract the influence of painting, and commissioned several famous artists of the time to execute some elaborate pictures. Most of these were subjects taken from old romances, as he conceived that these were always more attractive than mere fanciful pictures. He also caused to be painted a representation of every month of the year, which would also be likely, he thought, to interest the Emperor. When these pictures were finished he took them to Court, and submitted them to his inspection; but he would not agree that he should take any of them to the Plum chamber, and they were all deposited in the chamber of his daughter.

‘Genji, when he heard of this, said of his brother-in-law: “He is young; he never could be behind others.” He was, however, unable to pass the matter over unnoticed. He told the Emperor that he would present him with some old pictures, and, returning to his mansion at Nijio, he opened his picture cabinet, where numbers of old and new pictures were kept. From these, with the assistance of Violet, he made a selection of the best. But such pictures as the illustration of the “Long Regrets” or the representation of “O-Shio-Kun” were reserved, because the terminations of these stories were not happy ones. He also took out of his cabinet the sketches which he had made while in Suma and Akashi, and showed them for the first time to Violet, who was a little angry at his not having shown them to her sooner.

​‘It was about the tenth of February, and the face of Nature began to smile with the approach of spring, making the hearts and tempers of people more calm and cheerful; besides, it was just the time when the Court was unoccupied with the keeping of any festival. There could be no better chance than this for such an exhibition of pictures to attract the attention of people enjoying leisure. Genji, therefore, sent his collection of pictures to the Palace in behalf of the lady of the Plum chamber.

‘This soon created a sensation in the Palace. Most of the pictures that were in the possession of the lady of the Plum chamber were from old romances, and the pictures themselves were of ancient date, being rare, while those of Kokiden were more modern subjects and by living artists. Thus each of them had their special merits, so that it became difficult to say which were more excellent. Talking of these pictures became quite a fashionable subject of conversation of the courtiers of the day. The Imperial mother happened to be at Court, and when she saw these pictures and heard different persons at Court discussing their relative merits, she suggested that they should divide themselves into two parties, right and left, and regularly to give their judgment. This was accordingly done: Hei Naishi-no-suke, Jijiu-no-Naishi, and Shioshio-no-Meifu took the left, on the side of the lady of the Plum chamber; while Daini-no-Naishi-no-suke, Chiujio-no-Meifu, and Hioye-no-Meifu took the right, on the side of the Kokiden.

‘The first picture selected was the illustration of the “Bamboo Cutter,” by the left, as it was the most appropriate to come first for the discussion of its merits, as being the parent of romance. To compete with this, that of “Toshikagè,” from “The Hollow Wood,” was selected by the right. The left now stated their case, saying: “The bamboo—indeed, its story too—may be an old and commonly known thing, but the maiden Kakuya, in keeping her purity unsullied in this world, is highly admirable; besides, it was an occurrence that belongs to a pre-historical period. No ordinary woman could ever be equal to her, and so this picture has an excellence.” Thereupon the right argued in opposition to this, saying: “The sky, where the maiden Kakuya has gone away, may indeed be high, but it is beyond human reach, so we may put it aside. When she made her appearance in this world she was, after all, a creature of bamboo; and, indeed, we may consider her even lower than ourselves. It may also be true that she threw a bright radiance over the inside of a cottage, but she never shone in the august society of a palace. Abe-no-oshi’s spending millions of money in order to get the so-called fire-proof rat, which, when obtained, was consumed in the flames in a moment, is simply ridiculous. Prince Kuramochi’s pretended jewel branch was merely a ​delusion. Besides, this picture is by Koshe-no-omi, with notes by Tsurayuki. These are not very uncommon. The paper is Kamiya, only covered with Chinese satin. The outer cover is reddish purple, and the centre stick is purple sandalwood. These are very common ornaments. Now, Toshikagè, though he had undergone a severe trial from the raging storm, and had been carried to a strange country, arrived at length at the country to which he was originally despatched, and from there returned to his native land, having achieved his object, and having made his ability recognised both at home and abroad. This picture is the life of this man, and it represents many scenes, not only of his country, but of foreign ones, which cannot fail to be interesting. We therefore dare to place this one above the other in merit.”

‘The ground of this picture was thick white-tinted paper, the outer cover was green, and the centre stick jade. The picture was by Tsunenori, and the writing by Michikaje. It was in the highest taste of the period.

‘The left made no more protestation against the right.

‘Next, the romance of Ishé by the left, and that of Shio Sammi by the right, were brought into competition. Here, again, the relative merit was very difficult to be decided at once. That of the right had apparently more charms than that of the other, since it beautifully represented the society of a more recent period.

‘Hei-naishi, of the left, therefore said:

Who would run down the fame of Narihira for the sake of the pretentious humbug of our own days?”

‘Then Daini-no-Naishi-no-suke, of the right, replied:

‘Upon this, the Empress-Mother interceded. She said that “the exalted nobility of Lord Hioye may not, indeed, be passed over without notice, yet the name of Narihira could not altogether be eclipsed by his.

​‘There were several more rolls to be exhibited, and the rival protestations on both sides became very warm, so that one roll occasioned considerable discussion.

‘While this was going on, Genji arrived on the scene. He suggested to them that if there was any competition at all it should be decided on a specially appointed day, in a more solemn manner, in the presence of the Emperor. This suggestion having been adopted, the discussion came to an end.

‘The day for this purpose was fixed. The ex-Emperor, who had been informed of this, presented several pictures to the lady of the Plum chamber. They were mostly illustrations of Court festivals, on which there were explanatory remarks written by the Emperor Yengi. Besides these, there was one which had been expressly executed at his own order by Kimmochi. This was an illustration of the ceremony which took place at his palace on the departure of the lady for Ishé some time back, when she had gone there as the Saigu. It was also probable that some of his pictures came into the possession of her rival, the Lady Kokiden, through his mother (as the mother of the former was a sister of the latter).

‘When the day arrived every arrangement was made in the large saloon at the rear of the Palace, where the Imperial seat was placed at the top. The Court ladies of both parties—those of the lady of the Plum chamber and those of the Lady of Kokiden—were ranged respectively left and right: the left, or those of the lady of the Plum chamber, facing southwards, and those of the right northwards. All the courtiers also took the places allotted to them. Here the pictures were brought. The box containing those of the left was of purple sandalwood. The stand on which the box was placed was of saffron, and over this was thrown a cover of Chinese brocade, with a mauve ground. The seat underneath was of Chinese coloured silk. Six young girls brought all this in, and arranged it all in order. Their kazami (outer dress) was of red and cherry colour, with tunics of wistaria lining (light purple outside and light green within).

‘The box which contained the pictures of the right was of “Jin” wood, the stand of light-coloured “Jin,” the cover of Corean silk, with a green ground. The legs of the stand, which were trellised round with a silken cord, showed modern and artistic taste. The kazami of the young girls was of willow lining (white outside and green within), and their tunics were of Kerria japonica lining (or yellow outside and light red within). Both Genji and Gon-Chiunagon were present, by the Emperor’s special invitation, as also the Prince, Lord-Lieutenant of Chikushi, who loved pictures above all things, and he was, consequently, chosen umpire for this day’s ​competition. Many of the pictures were highly admirable, and it was most difficult to make any preference between them. For instance, if there was produced by one party a roll of “The Seasons,” which was the masterpiece of some old master, on selected subjects, there was produced also, by the other party, a roll of sketches on paper, which were scarcely inferior to, and more ornamented with flourishing than the ancient works, in spite of the necessary limitation of space which generally makes the wide expanse of scenery almost too difficult to express. Thus the disputes on both sides were very warm.

‘Meanwhile the Imperial Mother (the Princess Wistaria) also came into the saloon, pushing aside the sliding screen of the breakfast-chamber. The criticisms still continued, in which Genji made, now and then, suggestive remarks. Before all was finished the shades of evening began to fall on them. There remained on the right one more roll, when the roll of “Suma” was produced on the left. It made Gon-Chiunagon slightly embarrassed. The last roll of the right was, of course, a selected one, but it had several disadvantages in comparison with that of “Suma.” The sketches on this roll had been done by Genji with great pains and time. They were illustrations of different bays and shores. They were most skilfully executed, and carried away the minds of the spectators to the actual spots. On them illustrative remarks were written, sometimes in the shape of a diary, occasionally mingled with poetical effusions, in style both grave and easy. These made a great impression on the Emperor and on everyone present; and, finally, owing to this roll, the left was decided to have won the victory.’

In the famous Makura-no-soshi we see the following, as quoted and rendered into English by Mr. Aston:

‘On the sliding doors of the northern front of the Mikado’s private apartments there are painted fearful pictures of creatures that live in the wild ocean, some with long arms, others with long legs. When the doors of the ante-chamber are open we can always see them.’

This will show that pictorial art was made use of for chamber decoration. The ideal of pictures entertained by the gentry of this period may be well illustrated by the following extract from the ‘Genji Monogatari.’ It is contained in a chapter where different kinds of female characters are discussed, and therefore it is only discussed incidentally; but it will give a fair idea, and so I give the extract in full:

‘Again, therefore, he took up the conversation, and said: “Call to your mind affairs in general, and judge of them. Is it not always true that reality and sincerity are to be preferred to ​merely artificial excellence? Artisans, for instance, make different sorts of articles, as their talents serve them. Some of them are keen and expert, and cleverly manufacture objects of temporary fashion, which have no fixed or traditional style, and which are only intended to strike the momentary fancy. These, however, are not the true artisans. The real excellence of the true artisan is tested by those who make, without defects or sensational peculiarities, articles to decorate, we will say, some particular building, in conformity with correct taste and high æsthetic principles. Look, for another instance, at the eminence which has been attained by several of the artists of the Imperial Academy of Painting. Take the case of drawings in black ink. Pictures, indeed, such as those of Mount Horai, which has never been beheld by mortal eye, or of some raging, monstrous fish in a rough sea, or of some wild animal of some far-off country, or of the imaginary face of the demon, are often drawn with such striking vividness that people are startled at the sight of them. These pictures, however, are neither real nor true. On the other hand, ordinary scenery of familiar mountains, of calm streams of water, and of dwellings just before our eyes, may be sketched with an irregularity so charming, and with such excellent skill, as almost to rival Nature. In pictures such as these the perspective of gentle mountain slopes and sequestered nooks surrounded by leafy trees are drawn with such admirable fidelity to Nature that they carry the spectator in imagination to something beyond them. These are the pictures in which is mostly evinced the spirit and effectiveness of the superior hand of a master, and in these an inferior artist would only show dulness and inefficiency.

‘ “Similar observations are applicable to handwriting. Some people boldly dash away with great freedom and endless flourishes, and appear to the first glance to be elegant and skilful. But that which is written with scrupulous neatness, in accordance with the true rules of penmanship, constitutes a very different handwriting from the above. If, perchance, the upstrokes and downstrokes do not, at first sight, appear to be fully formed, yet when we take it up and critically compare it with writing in which dashes and flourishes predominate we shall at once see how much more of real and sterling merit it possesses.

‘ “Such, then, is the nature of the case in painting, in penmanship, and in art generally. And how much more, then, are those women undeserving of our admiration who, though they are rich in outward and in fashionable display, attempting to dazzle our eyes, are yet lacking in the solid foundations of reality, fidelity, and truth! Do not, my friends, consider me ​going too far, but let me proceed to illustrate these observations by my own experience.” ’

It must not, however, be understood that art in religious subjects had disappeared; on the contrary, there are many pictures of this kind, produced at this epoch, still in existence in many temples, and which are of highest merit. From the latter part of the twelfth century Kyoto had lost its importance, because from that time the actual ruling power of the country had left the hands of the Imperial Government, and had been transferred to the Shogunate Government. From that time down to about the middle of the fourteenth century Kamakura became the seat of the Shogunate Government. This interval was called the Kamakura period; there were many conditions in this period which were adverse to progress in the field of art—you may even say it showed some decadence—and yet there were many art products both in picture and sculpture. The Daibutsu of Kamakura, referred to above, was itself a product of the earliest part of the thirteenth century. It is a masterpiece of its kind, and will go a long way in showing what artistic workmanship then existed in Japan.

I may here interpose just a few words. The progress of culture was not necessarily limited to Kyoto only. About the beginning of the Kamakura period there existed a centre of refinement in the northern part of Japan: namely, in the province of Osiu. There a great feudal lord had his establishments at his seat of government, and all their surroundings, made in imitation of Kyoto, and from what remains there now of old objects, and also from the old map of the place, we can judge very well in what a flourishing state that capital of the feudal chieftain must have been before it was crushed by the invading forces of Yoritomo the first Shogun.

After the Kamakura period, the Ashikaga period comes in for about two and a half centuries. During this time the chief seat of the Shogun Governments was in Kyoto, side by side with the Imperial Court, though there was also a kind of branch Government in Kamakura. In the early part of this period the country was not yet ripe for general progress in art; but from the beginning of the fifteenth century most of the Shoguns of the epoch extended much patronage towards art, especially in pictures, several of them being artists of no mean ability themselves. It was then that Japan produced. many eminent artists, such as Cho-densu, Siubun, Sessiu, Siugetsu, Sotan, Masanobu, Motonobu, Sesson, and many others, whose masterpieces we are proud to show to any other nations to-day, and whose names are immortal in our annals. Their styles, indeed, were not identical, but, taken as a whole, they were akin to one another, and differed from their predecessors ​to a very conspicuous extent. Their art was founded more upon the best ideals of the Thang and Sung dynasties of China. They had no rivals among the contemporary Chinese. It is said that when Sessiu went to China to study art he lamented that there was no master to study with. The art of the Nara period and the early part of the Heian period was distinguished by an excellent sobriety of religious feeling: it was the very embodiment of the period; it could never be resuscitated again, any more than that of Raphael or Michael Angelo could be revived in Europe, and therefore even Siubun and Sessiu could not compete with their predecessors of those early periods in that respect; but in their own way they stood very high, and these are the kind of pictures which are most admired and appreciated by the native Japanese of later years, inasmuch as they embrace the highest conceptions of fine art in their productions independently of any direct subserviency to religion. Between the Ashikaga period and the Tokugawa period is interposed the short Oda-Toyotomi period. Some time before this period the country was in a turmoil owing to the internal dissensions of different military chiefs, which were ultimately assuaged and the feuds extinguished by the efforts of Oda and Toyotomi. The latter—i.e., Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who is known as Taiko-sama by foreigners, and spoken of as the Japanese Napoleon—was a great factor in the revival of art. Through his patronage it was that Japan produced Yeitoku and Sanraku, whose boldness of design was unsurpassed even by the best of the Ashikaga artists. The castle of Fushimi, built by Hideyoshi, where the genius of these artists was chiefly engaged, and where architectural art was also evinced in a remarkably high degree, was pulled down some time after the death of that great hero, but its remnants, together with some other productions, are still to be found in different places; those who have seen them are the best judges in appreciating how pictorial art, without being converted into a conventional form of pure decorative art, may be utilized for decoration.

After the Oda-Toyotomi period came in the Tokugawa period, which lasted over 270 years, until our own time. The greater part of this period enjoyed perfect peace; and though the country was hampered in some respects by the further development of the feudal system, it witnessed more prosperity than any other period, and different branches of art made significant progress. As is seen from the last sentence of Dr. Anderson’s remark quoted above, the grandeur of the Nara period has never been revived, nor had we under this period any such master-hands as Siubun or Sessiu of the Ashikaga period; but, speaking generally, there is no doubt that all branches of art have made great progress in dimension, if not in depth. The ​lacquer-works and porcelains were beyond doubt a monopoly of this period. True it is that the lacquer-works existed from very remote periods, and those of the Higashiyama period (a section of the Ashikaga period, when Sessiu, Sotan, and the like flourished) were excellent, especially from an antique and æsthetic point of view. The full development of them, however, was a conspicuous achievement of the period under our view. As to porcelains, though they may not fall in the proper sphere of art, they had their development essentially during this period, their growth being comparatively a matter of a recent epoch. There was cloisonné, but the rapid and full development of it was left to our own time. Ukiyoye (popular pictures) of the Ukiyoye School and those of the artisan style are also entirely the new growth of this period.

I must here interpose some explanations. Old styles of pictures, especially Kano and Tosa, had spread their influence very widely among the gentle classes. In this period, too, there were numerous eminent painters, among whom we may mention Tannu as the greatest; but, speaking generally, their styles became more stiff and conventional. They failed to arouse popular feeling with their novelty and audacity, and, besides this, they were not within easy reach of the common town people; hence out of the tendency to revolt from the hackneyed old style, as well as out of the vulgar demands of common people, arose the new style of these Ukiyoye and artisan schools. Besides, the artists of these schools generally lacked refinement in themselves, belonging usually to the vulgar classes, whereas the artists of the older schools generally belonged to the gentle class, often holding samurai rank under the patronage of some feudal lord. Such being the case, these new schools are far from being the ideal of the Japanese cultured classes. There are, however, great geniuses to be recognised amongst them, Hokusai being the greatest of them; and in their way they had many excellent points, especially in their manipulation of colours and their aptitude in hitting on new ideas taken from daily life. It is due to the credit of European critics more than to ourselves that their merits were accorded their proper place. Only, the cultured Japanese never can be induced to appreciate these schools in the same degree that the Western critics do. Korin and his school form an entirely different category in our art. The pictures of this school are grotesque at first sight, and their merits can be discerned only by those who have especially the type of observant mind which enables them to appreciate hidden craft. I think it does great credit to the European experts who appreciate the merits of this school with the same eye which rivets itself on the paintings of those schools of vulgar origin.

​It is utterly impossible to dwell upon the different phases of the pictorial world of this period, but I must not neglect to make passing allusions. The Shijio School, the real originator of which was the great Okio, and which has exercised, and is still exercising, such vast influence upon our art world, was a growth of this period. Its only fault is that it is apt to be too realistic and lack depth. The rise and development of the Chikuden style, which was more in the nature of scholastic attainment, and which has resulted in exercising much influence in the latter part of this period, and also the influence exercised by Bunchio and his school, which were somewhat inclined toward Chikuden in some respects, but more powerful and varied, keeping the Kamo and Tosa at defiance, belong to this period. I must also remind my readers of Kokwan and Denzen, who introduced, both independently and simultaneously, the European style of pictures and copper engravings at the end of the eighteenth century. Nor can I forget to mention the name of the celebrated Watanabe Kwasan, who put an end to his own life as a consequence of his ardent desire to introduce Western enlightenment, and who was at the same time a great amateur artist.

We are now in the Meiji era, which has lasted already thirty-seven years. The commencement of this era was the destruction of everything old. There was a time when fine antique temples were pulled down, precious pictures of some thousand years or more were thrown into dust, and good lacquer-works were burned in order that the gold might be taken out of the ashes. Everything must be renovated and founded upon European ideas. It is sad when we look back upon it from the present time, but it was the necessary outcome of the spirit of the time. I know several of the best artists of the day, having no occupation, proceeded to take lessons in European drawings, and engaged themselves as draughtsmen in the engineering offices of public departments. But things could not remain in such a state for long, though no relaxation was occasioned in our emulation of things European, both material and intellectual. We have betaken ourselves once more to the art of old Japan; this was also due, to a great extent, to our Western advisers and patrons, to whom we must express our gratitude. We have now succeeded, to a considerable extent, in reviving our old art, not only in pictures and sculptures, but also in many branches of semi-industrial and semi-artistic objects. Great encouragement has, of course, been given by foreign patronage, but greater pains have been taken by the natives, and no small encouragement has been given by the Emperor and Empress themselves. Of course, in some industries the application of art has necessarily been changed to some other branch, as, for ​instance, metal sculptors, who have no more occasion to make helmets or sword ornaments, make vases or such-like, which may be used for up-to-date purposes.

We are now in a transitory state in every branch of art. We have not yet been able to speak of the grandeur of the Meiji era, but on the whole I am of opinion that improvement is perceptible in every branch, and I feel quite confident that if more encouragement, especially from abroad, be given, we shall be able to produce a memorable epoch. Some foreigners speak of a kind of deterioration of art objects; I dare say there is, but if so it must be excused on the ground that we are in a transitory state; and, besides, foreign customers themselves also cannot escape participation in the responsibility. Let me explain this a little more fully: Lacquer-work artists, for instance, can do just as good work as those of 200 years ago, provided that they are given time, and corresponding remuneration, and the proper expenses for the materials, a thing which modern purchasers will not do. Hence, artists cannot venture to make works of real art, except to special order, whereas in former days such artists usually had some special patrons in the persons of the feudal lords, who do not exist now. Foreign critics often speak of the designs of new objects as being bad: imitations of European articles of the kind, and speak of them as ‘deterioration.’ This, perhaps, is true in many cases, although there is behind this spurious art a really serious and progressive art of which less is known. Just fancy how many foreign patrons there are who appreciate the old style, whereas there is a comparatively large number who would only cast their eyes upon those objects which have some similarity to things that they themselves are accustomed to see; and, besides, the lower the price the more the purchasers—hence the dealers’ encouragement of this kind of article. My readers may think it vulgar that I speak about the prices of these objects, but perhaps I may be allowed to do so, as it is not from any mean motive. I say the prices of these Japanese articles are far lower than those of similar kinds in Europe, but as they are produced in a country which has been hitherto considered as inferior to theirs, the European purchasers seem to make up their minds that they must be purchased at a comparatively lower price. How, under such circumstances, can one expect objects of superior quality to be produced incessantly and sent abroad?

As to our pictures, I must add a few words more. The European oil-paintings and water-colours also are studied in Japan. There are many artists engaged on them, but hitherto we have not been able to produce great artists in those lines. Naturally, therefore, I must speak more about our native ​pictures. The style of our pictures differs from oil-paintings, as everyone knows, and the nearest approach is, perhaps, to water-colour in the case of colour-painting. The chief stress we lay upon pictures is the force of the brush and the effect of impression. I do not say that the oil-painting overlooks this important point, but there seems to exist some difference in manipulation between ours and the oil-paintings, for in the case of the Japanese a little failure or mistake will show itself more readily than in the case of the oil, as there is no possibility in our case of correcting any trifling mistake when it is once committed. But, on the other hand, as our aim is directed more to impression than to minuteness of detail, our pictures are not generally so thoroughly and finely done as the oil pictures, except, indeed, in cases of ancient religious pictures. Hence there are to be observed great defects in anatomy and perspective. The sculptures and pictures of Nara and Heian were advanced in the direction of anatomy in an admirable degree, and it is a matter of great regret that later art has become more and more deficient in that respect. Again, in matters of geometrical proportion, or rather perspective, our pictures are greatly deficient. These defects are, of course, to be remedied. It would be silly to keep such defects because they exist in our old style of painting. At all events, the artistic world of Japan has also to make some movement to meet the circumstances and demands of the period, and I am most sanguine that if these matters are thoroughly imbibed by the artist so as to grasp a true conception of his opportunities he will become much better off, but until then some allowances and excuses must be made. In this respect the efforts of the new era ought to be sympathized with rather than assailed.

Since about twenty-five years ago all sorts of art exhibitions—pictures, of course, being the principal ones—have been held in Tokyo as well as in provincial towns, the numbers being increased year after year. There are also several associations the object of which is the encouragement of art in one way or another. At the exhibitions the merits of the objects exhibited are submitted to the judgment of experts, and appropriate prizes are awarded. Such exhibitions are opened at the best seasons of the year, spring or autumn. They are much in the same method as those of Paris or London. They materially differ in style and scale from those quaint competitive ‘pairings’ of the Heian Court referred to above. All the exhibits are generally for sale: they are all genuine and their prices are affixed, and, as a rule, are not high. In the case of pictures, they are really insignificant when compared with the prices asked for such works in Western salons. Of course, our pictures generally do not take so much time and pains as ​oil-paintings, and this is the reason why they are not dear. The prices vary from £1 to £3 for those by ordinary painters—there may be some that are even cheaper, but good enough to look at. Pictures by first-rate artists are dearer, but even such rarely exceed £15. It would, therefore, be a matter of great advantage for foreign visitors, as regards their own pleasure, and good encouragement for artists, if they were good enough to purchase them more freely than they do. I occupy the position of president of one of these associations, and I often find some difficulty in giving good encouragement to the artists, from the fact of purchasers not being found in sufficient numbers at the exhibitions, though the artistic tastes of the people at large, and consequently the demand for art objects, have become strikingly extensive of recent years. The lower classes of towns and villages, that were once contented with paper-mounted or printed ‘ukiyo’ pictures, have now become anxious to possess pictures of much higher standards.

I must not omit to make reference to the work done by the College of Fine Arts, an institution in which a knowledge of sculpture, painting, and the arts in general is imparted to large numbers of students under the supervision of a Minister of State. The head institution is to be found in the capital, but collateral establishments exist in many of the large provincial cities and towns, conducted at the cost and under the control of the local authorities. There are also many private establishments of a similar character.

Although it may not be a proper place in this paper to speak of the art of making gardens in Japan, I cannot refrain from just touching on the subject, because our art in making gardens has much similarity to the landscape pictures, and has much of real art in it. Even on the smallest scale a garden is laid out in such a way as to represent a picturesque view as depicted in pictures. Hence artificial hills, natural rocks, and, where it is permissible, artificial lakes or cascades, are designed. We can say it is based upon the principle of fine art, but in the case of European gardens it seems to me that their original ideas were derived from the old ‘commons,’ and their later developments have been based more upon the principle of industrial art; to wit, there are fountains, but in the shape of mechanical apparatus, and not in the shape of natural springs—there are hewn stones, iron rails, iron bridges, and if there is any water at all it is mostly in the shape of a round or square tank. When they, the Occidentals, plant flowers they make the beds invariably in the shape of a square or triangle, as geometrically as though designing a carpet. They seem to have no idea of finding regularity in irregularity, or, rather, harmony in differentiation. In towns in Japan there are ​numerous stone shops where natural stones are sold, but no such place exists in any part of Europe. Of course, there is one drawback to our gardens—i.e., they are more ornamental than useful: this is a drawback which must be modified, and it is already being modified in many cases; but, on the other hand, European gardens seem to lack artistic elements to altogether too great an extent. It is almost incomprehensible to me that in the case of Europeans, who are fond of hanging in their rooms landscape pictures, and who are so fond of travelling in mountainous regions, running after beautiful scenes and views of landscapes of different types, it should never have entered their minds to apply to their gardens the same ideas. In this respect I can venture, without any diffidence, to say that Japan is above any nation in the world, and foreigners would be much benefited if they would begin to appreciate our style of gardening. I am glad to see that there are several Westerners in different countries who have already begun to do so.

The Japanese attainments in literature are in some measure inferior to those in art. In art we can talk with a certain amount of confidence with foreigners, though not always on equal terms, but in literature we do not feel the same confidence when we come to talk with the people of the Western civilized nations. We have, however, a sufficient stock of our literature accumulated through centuries to amply show our national minds and feelings.

An article by the late lamented Sir Edwin Arnold, and published in an issue of the Daily Telegraph a few days after his death, begins thus:

‘The time will come when Japan, safe, famous, and glad with the promise of peaceful years to follow, and to reward this present period of life-and-death conflict, will engage once again the attraction of the Western nations on the side of her artistic and intellectual gifts. Already in this part of the globe persons of culture have become well aware how high and subtle is her artistic genius; and by-and-by it will be discovered that there are real treasures to be found in her literature. Moreover, England, beyond any other European country, is likely to be attracted to this branch, at present naturally neglected, of what may be called the spiritual side of Japanese life.’

I, as a Japanese, cannot pretend to guarantee this saying of Sir Edwin Arnold as being perfectly correct, but, at all events, a great deal seems to be contained in it. We have already seen that our arts were in a state of great advancement in the Nara period; but in literature we have nothing of that ​period left that is worthy of notice save its poetry. We have the Manyōshiu (Million Leaves), a book which is a collection of poems dating from some time previous to the Nara period down to the early parts of the Heian period. The collection seems to have begun at the end of the Nara period, but to have been finished by a great poet who lived in the Heian period, and hence the incorporation of some poems of the latter period.

From this book we can fairly judge that the art of poetry has never again attained to that pitch by any subsequent generation throughout the whole of our history. The scale of our poetry is small on the whole, although that of the Nara period contains a good deal worth reading.

Speaking of the poetry of this period, Mr. Aston writes thus:

‘While the eighth century has left us little or no prose literature of importance, it was emphatically the golden age of poetry. Japan had now outgrown the artless effusions described in a preceding chapter, and during this period produced a body of verse of an excellence which has never since been surpassed. The reader who expects to find this poetry of a nation just emerging from the barbaric stage of culture characterized by rude, untutored vigour will be surprised to learn that, on the contrary, it is distinguished by polish rather than power. It is delicate in sentiment and refined in language, and displays exquisite skill of phrase, with a careful adherence to certain canons of composition of its own.’

This, I think, will be a sufficient survey of the subject.

We come next to the Heian period. Here we see that literary culture was greatly developed. All kinds of books were written—histories, books of law and ceremony, travels, diaries, memoirs, romances, narratives, and anecdotes. The study of Chinese was much in vogue at the time, and many of these books are written in Chinese. Our native literature also sprang up, and made wonderful progress, and it was then that our native classical books came into existence. They were written entirely in the pure phonetical alphabet, almost entirely consisting of vernacular words, terms of Chinese derivation being used very rarely, except, perhaps, the names of offices or those of the concrete objects having Chinese origin. True it is that they have not yet devised a mode of dividing words from words, so that readers may see at once every word separate; but this was also the case with the ancient Greeks and many others. Neither did they know how to make use of the signs such as the full-stop, the comma, and the note of exclamation, etc., so as to make reading easy, and at the same time to give the reader some kind of sense and idea beyond the words themselves. Had the native literature of the time been kept up, and had there been ​made such improvements in the modes of writing as those above stated, Japan would have had by this time great credit for her literature, which is essentially her own, and the great boon of having a good system of writing different from the cumbrous system still employed. That this was not to be so was owing to circumstances which prevented the development of this kind of writing, but I will not touch upon it at any great length.

The light literature—that is to say, romances, novels, and such-like—of the Heian period is written in the native classical style. It is mostly by female hands. As the study of Chinese was thought to be more useful, and often a more masculine and higher attainment, most men seem to have gone in that direction, having left the task of preserving the native style in the hands of women.

‘Genji Monogatari’ and ‘Makura-no-Soshi’ are generally considered the best of the kind, though they differ in style and purport. I will give below some extracts from the ‘Genji Monogatari,’ which, though rather lengthy, will afford a fair idea of both the argumentative and descriptive style of the native literature of the period.

(A) This is put into the mouth of a character in the story):‘Trying to show off small accomplishments is a characteristic of thoughtless people, and that without distinction of sex. This is in the highest degree unpleasant. As to the ladies, it may not, indeed, be necessary to be thorough masters of “the three great histories” and “the five classical texts”; yet they ought not to be destitute of some knowledge of both public and private affairs. That knowledge, however, can be imperceptibly acquired without much study, which, though not profound, will enable them to talk pleasantly with their friends. How contemptible, nevertheless, that would seem if this made them vain! The “mana” style and overglaring phrases are not meant for them. If they make use of them, the world will only speak of them, “Would that she remembered that she was only a woman!” and they would only incur the reproach of being pedants, as is the case with many ladies, especially with those of the upper classes. Again, while they should not be altogether deficient in versification, they should never be slaves to it, nor allow themselves to be betrayed into using strange quotations, the only consequence of which would be that they would appear bold when reticence is required, and abstracted when practical duties are to be attended to. How utterly inappropriate, for instance, it would be on the May festival if, while the attention of all present is concentrated on the solemnity of the occasion, fair ladies were to be mentally wandering on their own versicular imaginations about the iris; or if, again, on the ​ninth-day festival, when all the nobles present are exercising their inventive faculties on Chinese poems, they were to volunteer to pour forth their high-flying ideas on the dew-laid flowers of the chrysanthemum, thus endeavouring to rival their opponents of the stronger sex. There is time for everything; and all people, more especially women, should be constantly careful to observe the propriety of occasion, and not to air their attainments at a time when nobody cares for them. They should practise sparing economy in displaying learning and eloquence, and should even, if circumstances require, plead ignorance on subjects with which they are familiar.’

(B) ‘It appears that people were peeping out of the casement on the western side, probably being anxious to catch a glimpse of the Prince, whose figure was indistinctly to be seen by them from the top of a short screen standing within the trellis. Among these spectators there was one who, perhaps, felt a thrill run through her frame as she beheld him. It was the very moment when the sky was beginning to be tinted by the glowing streaks of morn, and the moon’s pale light was still lingering in the far distance. The aspect of the passionless heavens becomes radiant or gloomy in response to the heart of him who looks upon it. And to Genji, whose thoughts were secretly occupied with the events of the evening, the scene must have only given rise to pathetic emotions.’

(C) ‘One morning early, Genji was about to take his departure, with sleepy eyes, listless and weary, from the mansion at Rokujio. A slight mist spread over the scene. A maiden attendant of the mistress opened the door for his departure, and led him forth. The shrubbery of flowering trees struck refreshingly on the sight, with interlacing branches in rich confusion, among which was some convolvulus in full blossom. Genji was tempted to dally, and looked contemplatively over them. The same maiden still accompanied him. She wore a thin silk tunic of light green colour, showing off her graceful waist and figure. Her appearance was attractive. Genji looked at her tenderly, and led her to a seat in the garden, and sat down by her side. Her countenance was modest and quiet; her waving hair was neatly and prettily arranged…. At this juncture a page in Sasinuki [a particular kind of loose trousers] entered the garden, and, brushing away the dewy mist from the flowers, began to gather some bunches. The scene was one which we might desire to paint, so full of quiet beauty; Genji rose from his seat, and slowly passed homeward. In those days he was becoming more and more an object of admiration, and we might even attribute ​the eccentricity of some of his truant adventures to the very popularity he enjoyed. Where beautiful flowers expand their blossoms even the rugged mountaineer loves to rest under their shade, so wherever he showed himself people sought his notice!’

(D) ‘It was one evening in April of the following year that Genji happened to be going to the villa of “the falling flowers,” and passed by the mansion of the Princess. There was in the garden a large pine-tree, from whose branches the beautiful clusters of a wistaria hung in rich profusion. A sigh of the evening breeze shook them as they hung in the silver moonlight, and scattered their rich fragrance towards the wayfarer. There was also a weeping-willow close by, whose pendent tresses of new verdure touched the half-broken walls of earth underneath.’

The plot of the ‘Genji Monogatari,’ it is regrettable to say, displays a great laxity of morals, but the sentiment is fine, as is universally the case in similar works of the period. ‘Of coarseness and pruriency, moreover,’ says Mr. Aston, ‘there is none in the “Genji,” nor, indeed, in the literature of this period generally. The language is almost invariably decent, and even refined, and we hardly ever meet with a phrase calculated to bring a blush to the cheek of a young person.’ It seems, moreover, there was a prevailing custom at the time of man and wife living separately, so that all stories of ancient days about a man and a woman relating to their love affairs did not necessarily mean anything clandestine. Lady Aoi, daughter of the grandest officer of the State, and lawful wife in every respect of Genji, a Prince of royal blood, is represented in the ‘Genji Monogatari’ as living at her father’s, with a suite of separate rooms. When we take this into consideration, the denunciation of immorality applied to that romance may, to some extent, be relaxed.

Toward the end of the twelfth century, as I have already described, the ruling power of the Imperial Court was transferred to the military government of the Shogun. This was the Kamakura period, which was followed by those of Ashikaga and Oda-Toyotomi. At these periods, together with that of Tokugawa, the country was in the state of military domination, the Court and its nobles having been reduced to a miserable condition. Wars were also incessant, though often at long intervals. Hence we can well imagine that literary culture showed a great decadence. Books were written mostly in the form of history. They were history, because their facts were real historical ones, but they were also a sort of romance because their diction and expansion of description were more ​of the shape of a romance, so that they may be called ‘romantic histories.’ Several of them are well written, with more spirit than the Heian literature, and one of them—i.e., ‘Heike’—is even tuned to the biwa (a kind of four-stringed lute), and sung by professional blind singers, reminding one of Homer. These historical works still exercise significant influence over the minds of our youth, in no less degree than the heroic stories of the later dates to be spoken of presently. The famous ‘Jinkō-seitōki,’ which is also an historical work, but differs very much in style from those above described, was written about the middle of this epoch, when Japan, unfortunately, had two Imperial Courts. It is a sober political and philosophical vindication of the Imperial cause which the writer had espoused. Apart from its mythical commixture, it has exercised, and still exercises, a considerable influence over the minds of the Japanese, which must be somewhat inexplicable to outsiders. The ‘Tsuredzure-Gusa’ is also a production of about the same date. It is a collection of occasional notes. It contains much of philosophical, religious, and humorous reflection, and has much literary value. It is written in pure phonetical Japanese, as the Heian romances, but in much more concise and smart language. Notwithstanding all this, taken as a whole, the Heian culture was a thing lost to these periods. Poems were composed, but in them, too, the force of the Muse of Nara was no more; and they did not even reach the standard of the Heian verses. In fact, for the greater part of these three periods the monks of the Buddhist temples became almost the sole repositories of literary knowledge.

It was under the Tokugawa period that a great revival of literary culture took place, and expanded itself to a degree unknown before.

But before proceeding to this latter period we must note one thing which has no small merit and interest: I mean the ‘No.’ It grew about the middle part of the Ashikaga period, derived to some extent from another kind of a singing dance which was much more antique and simple. It passed through the Oda-Toyotomi period, and was kept up with lively interest even to our own day. It is a kind of dramatic play, which is like an opera on a very limited scale. The written texts are sung by the people acting; there is a principal and a secondary character and a sufficient chorus in each piece. I once saw a Greek play acted by the undergraduates at Cambridge in imitation of the ancient Greeks, and I have read some Greek dramas, and I noticed some similarity between them and our ‘No,’ though, of course, the scale of our ‘No’ is only a miniature compared with the dramas of the Greeks. The texts of the ‘No’ are called ‘Yokioku’ or ‘Utai.’ They are studied ​and sung by its admirers even without action. They have been popular with the upper classes, and of late years their practice has revived among the gentry extensively. The plots and actions are not complicated, but they are refined, and some passages of the texts are superb, though not classical. Their tone is elegant and elevated, and therefore fit to be associated with the upper classes; hence ‘No’ was performed even on great occasions at the Courts of the Shogun. Closely connected with, and having grown and developed similarly to, the No, there is a series of farcical performances called the ‘Kiogen.’ The word ‘Kiogen’ literally means ‘mad utterances.’ The texts of the Kiogen are comical dialogues, satirical without vulgarity, and have no poetical element. They are meant to be laughing-stocks, and therefore their merits lie in the condensed form of their comical elements. They are never sung; they are only adapted for action, and played after the ‘No’ drama, though occasionally the ‘Kiogen’ alone are acted without the ‘No’; there is, however, a good deal of credit to be given to them. They often represent great feudal lords as their chief characters, and in many of them the plots are made so that such lords are made fools of by the other characters; they were acted in a period when feudal discipline was most rigid, and yet this merry-making was acquiesced in. This will show how cunningly the comical parts were displayed, so that even the very feudal lords before whom they were played could not take offence. These are the essential points of their unquestionable merit.

In the Tokugawa period, as I said above, literature and the study of books spread itself in all directions, and philosophical dissertations played no small part in men’s lives, whilst previously to this period Japanese literature had very little of philosophy. Histories were written, classical annotations were composed, ethical expositions and moral teachings were also produced, all in immense numbers. Works of fiction also made their appearance in astonishing numbers; but I think it would be better for me to describe this progress in a concise manner, even if I only give an outline of it.

After the establishment of the Tokugawa Government at Yedo, now Tokyo, the country enjoyed a long period of peace, extending over 270 years. During that time both art and literature made great progress, as has already been shown. Schools were established, not only in Yedo, but at almost every seat of the provincial governments of the feudal lords, besides many private schools which were established by renowned scholars on their own account. In these schools began the tutoring of the Samurai families, and many of the Samurai themselves, whose business and inclination in former days were ​all towards fighting, began to study books; in the case of private schools many aspirants among the commoners also betook themselves to study. There was a set of learned people whose business it was to study, to read, to write, and to teach. These were mainly Chinese scholars, their chief work being to expound the Confucian doctrine; they were called the Ziusha, and commanded high respect. In the beginning of the period they were classed with priests or physicians, but as time went on it was thought that this classification was not sufficient for them. They must be regarded as something higher, and they were given comparatively high places among the Samurai, their occupations not being considered as professions. This was, of course, where the teachers were engaged in the official schools, but a similar kind of respect was also accorded to the masters of private schools. It was these learned people who wrote vast numbers of books on different subjects, more especially based upon the Chinese ideas of the classical period, but mostly in such a way as to make them more suitable to the conditions of the hour in our country. Many improvements were also made. These ideas, blended together with the chivalric code of honour of native growth, went a long way in forming the moral aspects of the Japanese character. There was also another movement which took place at this period. It was the revival of the study of Japanese ancient literature and the resuscitation of the ancient spirit of the Imperial régime preceding the introduction of the feudal system. This has also gone a long way towards forming the national character of the Japanese, side by side with those agencies described above. Teachers belonging to this category have also written many books, especially on the interpretation of the ancient vernacular language, and the exposition of the ancient Japanese books and classical literature. These were then the more serious and elevated sides of our literature of the period, but there was also a popular side—I refer to works of fiction, including romances, novels, and dramas.

The works of fiction of this period had their origin in a somewhat similar manner to the popular school of paintings (Ukiyoye), which took root in opposition to the pictures of the older and more conventional style. They were truly things for the people, and not for the aristocracy. The serious side of our literature of the period was almost the monopoly of the higher classes. The common people had no access to or liking for it, except those who had been favoured with better chances or higher aspirations than their neighbours. And yet they began to feel a kind of longing for novelty, and this was utilized by some clever popular writers. The readers were such, ​and the writers were men of the same class, or at least they were hommes déclassés, or pretended to be such by using fictitious names. Generally speaking, therefore, much vulgarity is palpable in this class of literature, in a somewhat similar way as the popular school of pictures betrays that taint when compared with those of other schools. Nevertheless, there is great merit to be found in these books. Their plots and representations are, in many cases, so good that they deeply touch our feelings.

Speaking of Bakin, who may be considered the greatest heroic romance writer of the period, a critic says, as quoted by Mr. Aston:

‘In short, Bakin comprises in himself the best points of many men. We see in him numerous resemblances to Shakespeare. It is not only women and children, tradespeople and peasants, who admire him. Even educated gentlemen are frequently moved to tears or laughter, or made to gnash their teeth and strain their arms (with rage) by his writings.’

This conclusion may fail in some respects to hit the exact mark, and it may be so considered by foreigners who are unable to understand precisely our modes of thought; but if it does not exactly reach the point, at least it is not far from it, and this remark may also be applied to many works of the same kind.

Perhaps I may here give, with advantage, a rough classification of these works. There are historical romances, comcal romances, and novels; the latter are called by us Ninjio-bon (book of human nature), and love affairs are their principal plots. Female characters in these novels generally do not belong to desirable classes, so that they are often at variance with modern tastes. If, however, we make allowances for the fact that it must have been exceedingly difficult for the authors of those days to make heroines always out of the daughters of the higher classes, just as we are ready to do for the introduction into their works by Greek and Roman playwrights of numerous courtezans and parasites, we shall not fail to find easily much merit in their depiction of human nature. From the literary point of view, moreover, we can find much to commend in many of these works of fiction, inasmuch as many of them, especially in the case of so-called ‘Kusazoshi,’ were written in the pure phonetic alphabet and colloquial Japanese. Historical romances of the Bakin school generally contain Chinese letters in their lines to an almost surprising degree, and, therefore, in the way towards a nationalization of our written language they have not much to deserve our future consideration. On the other hand, with regard to those that are written in the pure phonetic alphabet, they have succeeded to a very creditable ​degree in reviving the mode of writing similar to that of the classical literature of the Heian period after it had been almost totally disused for so many centuries. For those, therefore, who wish to remodel our written language on the same lines as the spoken language these works will come to be taken into greater consideration.

There is one more important kind of literature which deserves our attention. It is the popular drama. In speaking of dramas it is necessary to speak first of the books relating to them. There are numerous books under the categorical name of ‘Joruri-bon’ or ‘Gidayu-bon.’ They are books containing not only the dialogue, but are also descriptive of the scenes concerned. They are written in such a way as to resemble a novel, but, of course, in a shorter form, and in such euphonic diction as may be sung. They were originally written for marionette theatres, experienced singers singing the lines at the corner of the stage, while the marionettes were being worked with realistic effect on the stage concurrently with the singing. They could also be sung without the marionettes, and therefore the singing of them is widely studied and practised by even men and women of the higher classes. They can also be adapted to the ordinary stage, perhaps with a little modification of the dialogue, to more fully conform to the movements of the actors. Ordinary theatres also grew up almost simultaneously, but their development was a little slower. There were professional playwrights connected with the stage, and plays were written by them which were much like the ‘Joruri-bon,’ but naturally with less chorus and more dialogue. These plays thus written specially for the ordinary theatres, however, were far less elaborate, and, as literature, had little value; in fact, none of them was even printed until a very recent date. I may here just remark, in passing, that most foreigners think there are no actresses in Japan, but it is not true. At the beginning of theatrical performances, some 300 years ago, actors and actresses played together, but after a time this was for some reason or other prohibited. In later times also there were many actresses, though not so many as there were actors, the actors and actresses formed their own companies separately, and each performed independently. In the actors’ companies some of them, as on the Western stages of the olden times, played feminine parts; and in the actresses’ companies some of them played the parts of men, both with admirable success. Occasionally they act together on the same stage, but it is very rare and exceptional. The tendency, however, is towards some fusion of interests, and they will, perhaps, before long be seen together more commonly.

Both the ordinary stage and the marionettes were originally ​intended for common people, and, unlike the ‘No,’ they have never been patronized by the upper classes. It was only at a very recent date that even great actors began to attain their position in society. (As to this, I may be permitted myself to state that in the efforts for the elevation of the stage, and of the position of actors, I was able to do something useful for them by creating a widespread outcry for stage reform on my return to Japan after my previous stay in England.) Such being the case, it was no wonder that in former days much vulgarity was mingled with representations on the stage, both marionette and ordinary, and was found in the ‘Joruri-bon’ themselves; but when we make a good selection from the numerous books of this kind, we find that there are many parts which display high literary merits, and parts that may be sung by men and women of the highest classes without any shame before any audience. My wife herself is a tolerable chanter of the kind, she having first been recommended by a medical man of high reputation to make good use of her voice for the sake of her health, and this kind of singing was selected for her.

Speaking generally, however, I admit that vulgarity exists in many of them still, as I said before; but here I must make a remark which will be almost astonishing to Western readers. I mean to say that these books of dramas, these stages, and the heroic stories contained in these historical works of fiction, plus the ‘Gundan,’ a particular mode of telling tales of heroism, have had a great share in making the Japan of to-day. The gallantry of our sailors in trying to bottle up the entrance of Port Arthur, and of the soldiers who fought the battles of the Yalu, Kinchau, and Nanshan, owes a great deal of its potentiality to the influence exercised by them upon Japanese subjects at large. Of course, I do not ignore the fact that the vast influence of the serious side of our education and traditions also have made them extremely loyal and patriotic to their country and to their Emperor; but, for all that, the influence exercised by the dramatic acts, dramatic literature, and the romantic tales of heroes and heroines, can never be overlooked.

For this there is reason. In Japan the idea of the ‘encouragement of what is good, and the chastisement of what is bad,’ has always been kept in view in writing works of fiction or in preparing dramatic books and plays. I know very well that there is some opposition to this idea. They say that the writing of fiction should be viewed as an art. Hence, so long as the real nature and character are depicted, there is an end of the function of these works. I do not pretend in any way to challenge this argument, but I simply state that it was not ​so regarded in Japan. Consequently, with us, some kind of reward or chastisement is generally meted out to the fictitious characters introduced in the scene, and these representations, either in books or on the stage, are carried out to such a pitch as to leave some sort of profound impression on the minds of the readers or of the audience. Whatever the other remaining parts may be, these features always remain uppermost in the minds of the reader or of the theatre-goer. The prominent point thus produced is generally a transcendent loyalty, such as a loyal servant would feel for his master; the great fortitude and perseverance which one exhibits in the cause of justice and righteousness; severe suffering for the sake of a dear friend; the devotion of parents and their self-sacrifice; great suffering, or even self-sacrifice, of a wife for her husband, or of a mother for her son to enable the fulfilment of duty to the lord and master. I can myself remember many times shedding tears when reading works of fiction, or when listening to the singing of dramatic songs, or while witnessing dramatic performances. This peculiarity seems to be wanting on the Western stage. I remember once in London, years ago, my eyes becoming moist when I saw a character on the stage, who was being taken away as a prisoner, shaking hands with the man who had been his dear friend, but who ought to have been suspected as the cause of his being taken prisoner, and told him, as he went, that he would never suspect or ever forsake him, giving the audience a strong impression of chivalric moral strength. But that was only a solitary experience.

If I say anything about Shakespeare, I fear I should at once be considered to be overstepping propriety; but I must say that even Shakespeare’s plays, some of which I have read or seen performed, have never given me such impressions as do the plays of Japan. Whenever we go to the Western stages we appreciate the decorations, we admire the splendid movements and good figures of the actors and actresses, and, so far as we can understand it, the striking elegance and powerful delivery of their dialogue, and we enjoy ourselves as much as could be hoped; but on coming home we find nothing left on our minds which might serve as an incentive in our future career. No inspiration, no emulation! Such, then, seems to be the difference between our dramatic works and those of Western nations. If ever the good points of our dramatic works are appreciated by the Western peoples, we shall feel highly flattered.

I must now leave off speaking of the Tokugawa period, and must deal with the Meiji era, in which we are now living. The infusion of European ideas made all things very different with us, and literature is also making a new move. I cannot, however, deal with the subject at length; I can only state a few ​words. Works of fiction have been, and are being, written a good deal. We have not yet produced any great genius such as the geniuses produced in the Tokugawa period, but in some ways we have made improvements. Whilst writers of works of fiction in the Tokugawa period had no great enlightenment in themselves, as I have described above, modern writers are mostly men of proper training and regular education; many of them are graduates of the University, and many of them have knowledge of Western literature. If only the public would give more encouragement to them to continue their toil, I have every confidence that they would succeed. I may also say that theatrical plays are being written by the new men of the present generation. They have not, however, up to now turned out much that can be considered a success. The ‘Chiushingura’ (48 Ronin) or the ‘Sendaihagi’ (Lespedeza bicolor of Sendai) of the Tokugawa period have been surpassed by no works of our own day as yet.