Our New Allies in the Land of the Rising Sun.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXI, Issue XVII, 24 October 1903, Page 57

Our New Allies in the Land of the Rising Sun.

(By Florence Balgaruie-.' No. 4. Japan bewilders, ' tantalises and charms. Each new day reveals some fresh paradox. It is impossible to generalise or to make any dogmatic assertion, for impressions formed one day are certain to receive flat contradiction next. Onlv one conclusion have I arrived at during my first month in Japan, and that is always to expect the unexpected. When I visit university, Houses of Parliament, museums, high school, education and agricultural departments, I can imagine myself in modern Europe or Australasia, but when I mingle with the people, watch their habits and learn something of their thoughts, I realise that this country is more mediaeval than England in the 14th century. The veneration for the Imperial family is in itself a cult, a pari of their ancestor worship. Believed to spring from the gods, the Mikados have preserved unbroken succession for 2000 years, and the reigning Monarch is the impersonation of all that is best. A German professor at one of the West Coast colleges tells me that he has frequently asked his students whether their kindred or the Emperor comes first in their regard, and they invariably reply ‘ The Emperor.” This, as he remarked, may in some cases be pretence, but a striking instance of the reality of this sentiment was given the other day in the dismissal of a Japanese schoolmaster because he had lost the portrait which should have sanctified the walls of his schoolhouse. Not long ago, too, a thoroughly loyal Prime MinistmJ had to give up his portfolio because, by way of illustrating a point in his speech, he remarked, “Imagine what would be the condition of Japan if she ever became a republic.” But a more extraordinary case still of “loyalty” was noised abroad within the last few months amidst expressions of almost general approval. A house, having caught fire, all the inmates were rescued except one little child. The father at once rushed back into the burning building, but in doing so he noticed that the honoured portrait of the Mikado was still hanging on the wall. There was no time to save both, and with the cries of anguish of his little one ringing in his ears, he deliberately left hint to perish—but he saved the picture. Probably the man had up to that moment been the kindest of fathers, but at a supreme crisis loyalty must triumph over natural human affection. Loyalty or chivalry is supposed to be the prerogative of the nobles, but in reality permeates all classes. It casts a halo over what we should call crime. For example, the national heroes, whose tombs I recently visited and found decorated with fresh laurels, are known as as “The FortySeven RoueUß.” The story of the murder, perpetrated by these men to avenge their master’s memory, is well known to all readers of Mitford’s “Tales of Old Japan,” but it will be news to them to learn that on the 20th of July of the 20th century I read an advertisement in the “Japan Times,” signed by prominent men, and appealing for funds to raise a national monument worthy of the heroic loyalty of Japan’s great heroes. This appeal was made at an opportune time, just when the northerly part of Japan was celebrating “The Festival of the Dead”—in other words, according to the reply given by a Japanese lad, “The Annual Holiday of the People in Hell.” “Emma, who presides over the infernal regions, is supposed to let his prisoners free once a year. Strange to eay, this is one of the most popular days in the whole year with earth-bound souls! All the people, after lighting the household fires by way of welcoming the spirits, makes pilgrimage to the cemeteries, to deck the graves of friends with flowers, then deposit' offerings at the temples, and afterwards give themselves up to every conceivable form of amusement. Emma, it should be mentioned, is very considerate for the coffers of the disestablished and disendowed Buddhist and Shinto priests, and to enable pilgrims to visit many shrines he permits his festival to take place on another day in the more southerly, provinces. I spent the whole holiday in he most popular haunts, the parks of Ueno anti Asakusa in Tokio. On the hay thither I found myself in a stream of people, mostly on foot, but 2?'? in .rickshaws, father, mother child not infrequently being drawn

by one unfortunate eoolie. Young girls donned their prettiest dresses and best obis (sashes). Simple although the Japanese dress is (a mere cotton dress-ing-gown we should eall it), the variety and beauty of design and colour made the streets look like flower gardens in midsummer. The other day a poor work girl was reported in the press as having committed suicide because she could not afford a new Romone (dress) for her annual holiday. The price of material for such a dress it should be remembered is 3/. Every girl in the crowd wore a tiny fan or artificial flower or some other pretty object in her black hair, which on no occasion is ever rutiled by wearing hat or bonnet. It is now the month of the convolvulus or morning glory, and those in the height of fashion wore one of these flowers. The boy apprentices, most of them mere children, who have but two whole holidays in the year, were walking along the streets on their high wooden clogs with presents for their parents in their hands, tied up with exquisite neatness in handkerchiefs. One has to come to Japan to learn that mere pareel-tying may become a fine art. Arrived at Ueno Park the people made obeisance at the temple, and stood on the heights enjoying the views of the city and the budding lotus pond. The girls and boys amused themselves with swings and see-saws under the trees, or wandered with their parents through the museum. Outside of London I know of no place in the British Isles, or, indeed, in the Empire, which can boast so fine a museum as the one in Ueno Park, Tokio. Its natural historic and botanical collections are especially fine, including a New Zealand moa’s claw. The model of the moa’s egg. however, struck me as exaggerated—it was fully half as large again as the finest reality I saw in New Zealand. To me the most interesting exhibit of all was the one which the Japanese passed, by unnoticedIt consisted of a collection of relics dating from the. time of persecution in the 17th Century, when the suspects were under pain of death compelled to place their feet upon “trampling boards,” on which the crucifix and other symbols were engraved. Many refused to comply. In Asakusa Park the scene was merrier. There the people of the humblest classes congregate. All were exquisitely neat and elean and tasteful in hair and dress. The street approaching the park is lined with booths, where every variety of cheap toy and sweet may be purchased. Every child received a present that day—perhaps only a farthing paper lamp, or kite, or shuttlecock, but he carried it proudly. Even No 4—Take Two the babies, as they peeped over their Snothers’ should with eager little black eyes, were clutching sticks to which little lamps were suspended. I saw no drunkenness or horse-play, and heard never ta rough or harsh word. It is said that there is no swear word in the Japanese vernacular. Thirsty folk were seated in groups upon mats under awnings, and sipping half-penny ices. They are very different to the pernicious •‘haif-penny lick and penny a spoon” of London streets, and are made of shaved ice flavoured. In the Temple of Kwannon the Goddess of Mercy, wistful eyed women were stroking the little image of Binzuro, already half worn away bv the faithful. Here, as at Lourdes or

Holiwell, in North Wales, they rubbed their painstricken bodies in hope of healing. Further on the performing elephant and open-air theatre drew large crowds. The little play I chanced to see was a marionette pantomime of fishes. The stage had been made to resemble a huge aquarium tank, and the artificial performers were made absolutely true to nature. Amongst many items were included a ballet dance by lobsters and a fight between a miniature diver and a shark, whose huge head was protruding from the wings of the stage. The performance, simple although it was, I can truly describe as a triumph of skilful and artistic presentation, and of perfect taste. I watched the face of my human horse (my good rickshaw man) as it beamed with delight, and the applause of the crowd testified to their enjoyment. I wonder how such a performance would be received in an East End, or indeed, in a West End music hall in London? Towards nightfall the people wended their way home, the children's lanterns dancing like fire-flies down the dark streets, while the chatter of clogs made strange music, to which I seemed to hear the refrain of Browning’s Pippa on< her one holiday of the year: “God’s in His Heaven— All’s right with the world.’’ (To be continued.)