A Fantasy of Far Japan; Or, Summer Dream Dialogues. Kencho Suematsu
a route which runs between the Canadian and San Francisco lines, and on to New York. I spent a day at Seattle. I had to stop at the summit of the Rockies for five hours, on account of an accident which happened to a train in front of ours. It made me miss the junction, so that I lost more than one day on the way. I spent two days in New York, and one in Washington. The mail steamer in which I crossed the Atlantic was not the quickest one. And yet on the morning of the 13th March I was quietly taking tea at an hotel in Liverpool. Last year was a leap year, but counting by days, inclusive one extra, the whole journey took thirty-two days in all. You see the globe is like an egg—the higher the latitude, the shorter the distance.'
—'That looks long enough.'
—'Well, but one cannot jump over from one side of the world to the other in one leap.'
—'Supposing the Trans-Siberian Railway free again, what do you think of it?'
—'Well, a friend of mine who took that route took twenty days from Petersburg to the Pacific Coast. It is, of course, shorter; but you see travelling continuously by train is not very agreeable. I believe that the railway services in those quarters will be much improved and made quicker, but at present, that is to say, judging from experience before the war, the service is said to be very irregular and long. I should prefer a sea-voyage. The direct service between Europe and Japan on board the German or French mail ships through the Indian Ocean seems to be most agreeable. Of course it takes a longer time: it takes from forty-four to forty-seven days from Marseilles or Genoa to Yokohama. I have twice taken that route on a French mail ship and liked the voyage very much.'
—'But one would be killed by sea-sickness.'
—'Not at all. The sea is not always calm in the Mediterranean, so also between Hong Kong and Japan. But all the other parts are usually very calm. Besides, one soon gets accustomed to the sea, after two or three days, excepting some few persons who are by nature averse to the sea altogether.'
—'I cannot believe it.'
—'You must believe it, it is a fact, and moreover, on mail steamers there is much fun and pleasure; dances and concerts are given on board from time to time. The meals are splendid and plentiful. Passengers soon become friendly.'
—'Ah! that's too good to hear, but I wonder if it is always so,' she said.
A lady, who had travelled in the Far East, joined us a few minutes since. She spent two months in Japan, she said, and supported my views about the voyage, and talked of the pleasure of the trips somewhat in opposition to the observations of the countess.
The marchioness now turned to me and said, 'I have just been talking to your friend Monsieur Matoni about the new invention of Monsieur Blanry. A long account of it was given in Le Matin the other day. It is an improvement on the wireless telegraphy. Guns may be fired, wheels may be turned by electricity produced by wireless apparatus. He is going to give a lecture illustrated by practical experiments. Would you like to go? If so, I would send you a ticket for a box for yourself and friends.'
—'I shall be delighted,' I answered.
—'Marchioness patronises science,' said Monsieur Matoni to me, as though he only meant me to hear him, and in a further subdued voice whispered, 'Her tastes differ from the ordinary tastes of ladies.'
The visitors were now gradually dispersing. The marchioness and her sister also rose to take their leave, asking us, as they did so, to visit them on the marchioness's next reception day. We had stopped for longer than we anticipated, despite an appointment I had at my hotel. Soon after the departure of those ladies, however, we also said our goodbyes to the duchess and her daughters, and to the few people who had still remained.
We were again wafted through the air, and were once more moving over the tops of countless houses on the way. On reaching my hotel, I shook hands with my friend and his wife on the tops of the beautiful avenue-trees in front of the hotel.
II
Greek inspiration—Semitic sympathy—Religion—Difference between Japanese and European chivalry—What is the Bushi?—The weakest point of a hereditary military organisation—Introduction of the new system—New commoners and the history of their emancipation—Combination of democratic ideas and conservative traditions—Old bottles and new wine—The Great Change of 1867—Napoleon—Negligence of a proper estimation—Scenery of Japan—History of Tokio—European and Japanese method of dwelling—President Roosevelt and jiujitsu
It seems my young secretary, noticing I was asleep, and fearing that I might catch cold, brought a rug and covered me, which action roused me for a moment, but I soon returned to the same dreamland again.
Once more I was wafted through the air, and found myself in a large entrance-hall with gilded ceiling and walls painted with pictures. It was brilliantly lighted, and in one corner a band was playing. A broad staircase, the upper part of which branched off into two, led to the upper part of the house, numerous men in livery lined both sides of the passage, displaying the sure sign of aristocracy. There were balconies, or rather corridors all round overlooking the hall. I ascended the staircase, and, passing along one side of the corridors, entered a large chamber which was evidently the reception-room. But seeing but few people there, proceeded to an open window at the end of the room and looked down into the garden, which was brilliantly illuminated. In a few moments I moved, almost unconsciously, into a further room. It was the study of the host, who with his wife was showing the room to a group of guests. The host, noticing me, made me welcome, and introduced me to one of the guests in particular. It was the Prince Royal of Greece. I exchanged some words with him, in the course of which I remarked that Greece was the country which I was most anxious to see, inasmuch as it teemed with historical interest. As I did so, the scene of many heroic actions, above all, those of Salamis and Marathon, together with the glory which Byron sung for her freedom in the recent century vividly arose before my mental eyes.
It was then announced that the music was about to commence, and the party moved on. I was with a charming lady. She was of Semitic blood. Her complexion was snow white, her eyes were dark, as also her hair, which was surmounted by a coronet of pearls, and round her throat was a necklace of the same. She happened to know me already by name, through her relatives whom I met in England. This naturally afforded us a subject of conversation as we proceeded. On arriving at one end of the corridors we stood, still conversing, and looking down into the hall, while the other people moved on the further end of the corridor where many more guests gradually arrived. While thus conversing, a nobleman passing us was introduced to me.
—'All the generals are gone to the Front,' he said, rather suddenly.
At first I thought he was referring to the war in the Far East, though I soon realised what he meant. He appeared a little excited.
—'There is more exaggeration than fact,' said I. 'I am quite confident that there will be no rupture.'
At that moment some one persuaded my fair companion to go over to where the prince was sitting. I followed at a distance, and took my seat in an obscure place in the corridor. From the corridor of the other side, an operatic singer, accompanied by a pianist, rendered the choicest of his songs, and the bands played in the intervals.
I listened to the songs and the music and watched the people. Sitting alone I am sure I must have looked awkward and stupid; which, however, is a thing I do not much mind. Now and then the host came and exchanged some words with me. He was busy looking after his guests generally, but managed to tell me he would invite me to a special dinner very soon to which also the Duchess Fairfield would be asked. The hostess was similarly occupied, and I did not converse much with her, except to pass a few remarks about music. She said she preferred vocal music to instrumental. The music over, all went down to the garden. It was delightful: the open air on a summer's night is always so. Light but choice refreshments were served there. The guests, partaking of them as they wished, chatted here and there in groups of two and three.