PEEPS AT JAPAN.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 20075, 16 April 1927, Page 11

PEEPS AT JAPAN.

SOME MIXED IMPEESSIONS. One is not surprised at a new book on Japan, but when it is a translation of a Dutch work by Louis Couperus, one is interested, for this author ia recognised as a moulder of modern prose (states the Melbourne Age). As a traveller he is exceedingly sensitive to environment, a man of pronounced dislikes, but capable also of extreme enthusiasm. Mr Stephen M‘Kenna ranks some of his books among the best of all times and all languages. The style is free and conversational, and entirely delightful. Sir Edwin Arnold and others so familiarised us with the beauty of Japan and the politeness of its people that we are startled on reading something which shows the other side of the picture. Lnfeadia Hearn was whole-souled in his admiration of the country and its inhabitants, and Gonso has given us beautiful illustrations of Japanese art, but Lie volume of Couperus on “Nippon’’ lias something to say which either has not been sain before or not said so frankly and strikingly. . Beginning with the honest confession of Professor Hara, himself a Japanese, that Japan owes the whole of its culture to China, he goes on to state that if some things look very graceful, spotlessly clean and well tended, it must not bo supposed that this is the uniform rule. ihe Japanese are hybrids, ancient and modern, retinedly artistic and boorish, scrupulously clean or very dirty. They bow low to everybody; an officer bows to the little fellow who hands him sword and cap. But the throaty way of talking, with guttural noises, seemed to Couperus to b e uncivilised and revolting. Cleanliness m palaces and many dwelling houses is counterbalanced by filthiness in streets and public parks. The hot bath 18 eve *jf" where, but so is skin disease. In the cherry blossom season the people bring their meals with them, order a bottle ox sake, which is their brandy, and lie about on broad bamboo divans enjoying the gloi’ious April blossoms. What clashes with all this is that they spread red woollen blankets upon the divans beneath the blossoms, blankets whidh ®~ r J, against beauty and harmony. The Dutch visitor, with his ideals of order, could not help complaining against the untidy and filthy habits about papers, peels, and—everything. The Jaeger woollen vest peeps i outside the kimono at neck and arms. The ditto pants can also be seen above the split toe of the.stockinged foot. The joyful crowd, colourful, untidy, often dirty, revelled in a holiday and cherry bloom. The season brought more than charming blossom. It was sacred to spring cleaning, and whole streets were disfigured by ancient rubbish from which evil, acrid smells offended the passers-by. It could not be avoided. In Japan one must visit & thousand temples, and especially that bright particular specimen which contains 33,333 images of the Goddess of Mercy. You take off your shoes and put on slippers. There are 1000 images on the step* of the dim amphitheatre, but every statue has in its head dress or on it* chest on© or more miniature statues of itself, and it is by counting all these that you are said to come upon the mystic number of 33,333. As you bend closer towards the goddesses you notice that they are coarsely carved, and their gilt is not of the best quality. The impressiveness -is due to the number of them. If you have lost a dear friend and seek with care among these images you will find the likeness of your friend among the many faces. In spite of his love for being enthusiastic, Couperus did not like Kyoto, the gusty, dusty, city, with its _ holiday trippenness, and its strange civilisation, “neither fish nor flesh.” The roads in Japan are very bad, and that is why wealthy Americans are not fond of it. Herds of Americans go there, but they are people with smaller purses, and bent on ‘‘doing” Japan in five days with a suit case. Hotels are very expensive—four guineas a day for two persons. The primitive bathroom has usually something the matter with the pipes. Sundry expenses, including guides, may add another four guineas a day, and make the bill about £250 a month. The motor car bounces along roads full of pot holes, and presently one is met by a terrible stench. Couperus declares that it is due to the practice of carting nightsoil in tubs, to spread it in the fields. The traveller begs the chauffeur to increase his speed. He does, but it is of no use, for the procession of tubs moves along the roads, and swearing at the guide for bringing his party by this road is of no use. The tourist returns to his hotel, takes up Ludovic Nandeau’s “Le Japon Moderne, and is consoled to find the author saying that Japanese noses must be differently constructed from those of Europeans. Couperus insists that a people should keep its nationality, but Japan has failed in this primal duty, and is a hybrid half way between East and West. The people are imposters and imitators, and in the judgment of this critic have no future. Silk hats and frock coats and smoking factories were never meant for the Orient. Also the Japanese are the Germans of the East in respect of militarism, sentimentality and affectation. Their architecture is monotonous. Their art turns more and more towards the small crafts. “Where is their author, whore their painter or their philosopher? Impoverished in spiritual matters, their mind ia bound to shrivel up since it aims at material achievement alone. Nowhere in this country do I feel the warmth of a spiritual ideal.” famous Japanese singer herself stated after returning from abroad that she found her people tedious, unmoved, silent, without any expression of joy on enthusiasm, such as she heard in France, in Italy, in America. They were not even amiable, but solemn and official. Naudeau’s impression was that they pose before the whole world. The charm of Tokio has been modernised away. What did seem to Couperus like a fairy tale was that during the summer months millions of pilgrims ascend not only Fujiyama, but also numerous other sacred mountains. There is nothing of Westeniliness in the urge which drives men to creep along yawning abysses and cross torrential rivers to shrines, caves, grottoes, where centuries ago hermits sat in meditation. The pilgrims are happy if they touch the same rock. If anyone wishes to see the grand art of Japan he will find it in temples and museums, but chiefly in some tiny place hours away by raiL If he goes there be will probably find it almost impossible to persuade the priest to let him see it. Much that w worth seeing is in the British Museum, in Boston, and in private American collections. There is a modern Japanese literature, but according to Couperus it is not of au overwhelming character. One of the leadinn- novelists is Tokutomi, whose style is softer and dry, but his characters are truly alive. Though colour is wanting his work possesses emotion and sound psychology. Japanese poetry as known through English translations seems to lack soul and be mere factory work. All that is noble, gentle, and devout in the Japanese people has been crystallised in the No dramas, which are like mystery plays and founded upon the idea of life on earth as dominated by Karma. While frank and almost brutal in his criticisms, Couperus recognises the charm of Japan. It. lies in the past, and is found in the treasures of art, where one secs overwhelming phantasmagorias of the most beautiful things the world has ever produced. Will Japan Conquer China? If so, what will Europe do about it? Couperus confesses ignorance.