ART. IV. JAPANESE LITERATURE.

1. A History of Japanese Literature. By W. G. Aston. London: Heinemann, 1899.

2. The Classical Poetry of the Japanese. By B. H. Chamberlain. London: Trübner and Co., 1880.

3. A Catalogue of Japanese Printed Books and Manuscripts in the British Museum. By R. K. Douglas. London: British Museum, 1898.

4. Tales of Old Japan. By A. B. Mitford. Two vols. London: Macmillan and Co., 1876.

TH

HE attention which has been directed towards Japan of late years has been justly and mainly excited by the artistic talent, the political achievements, and the military successes of the Japanese people. A nation that could produce such paintings as astonished the European world forty years ago was recognised at once as being capable of development, and the complete and speedy revolution by which the government of the country was transformed in, as it were, the twinkling of an eye, from a state of feudalism to a constitutional monarchy, maintained the tradition of surprise with which the first revelations from the Land of the Rising Sun were every where received. At a later period the skill and heroism with which the Japanese troops encountered their colossal enemy on the mainland excited an astonishment which would have been still more general and intense had not observers learnt by experience that almost anything might be expected from the nimble intellects and reckless bravery of the islanders.

It was, however, with something like ridicule and incredulity that a certain section of onlookers at first watched the efforts of the Japanese to throw off the weight of Oriental feudalism which oppressed them; and the ease and apparent frivolity with which they received and acted on the ideas imported from Europe created a feeling akin to contempt for a nation which could in a moment throw over everything that was national and distinctive for the new and alien systems of Western lands. More astute observers, however, who were acquainted with the early history of the race, had learned, while recognising certain defects in the national character, to estimate at their true value the complete change which had come over popular opinion, as well as the self-reliance and courage with which Japanese statesmen set themselves to substitute for their antiquated political system a constitution such as the most advanced

European nations had only arrived at after centuries of experience.

It must be confessed that the doubters and scoffers had some reason on their side. In the history of the Western world there has been no instance of a nation making such a complete bouleversement as was designed and carried out by the Japanese; and it was not unnaturally assumed that a nation that could with such a light heart defy all experience would break down in the execution of its enterprise. But the marked power of assimilation which the Japanese have shown through the whole course of their history falsified these forebodings. A nation which could adopt without hesitation the language and literature of a foreign State, even though that State were so nearly allied to it as China, which could admit its system of administration, and could accept en bloc its canons of artistic taste, was plainly capable of receiving fresh light from other sources, of recognising the value of other and more advanced ideas, and of inscribing on a tabula rasa a new code of national polity. In such a process of change, however, it was inevitable that there should be details which might arouse and justify laughter. The ready assumption of European dress and habits by a large section of the nation, before the wearers of the newly-imported frock-coats and patent-leather boots had broken with their old customs and associations, formed a ready subject for ridicule; and immature students who repeated ill-digested phrases from Herbert Spencer and John Stuart Mill naturally laid themselves open to sarcasm. But there was method in their madness; and the same people who had swallowed at one gulp the civilisation and literature of China knew themselves to be quite capable of building up a new and substantial edifice on the firmer basis of European experience.

Throughout their whole history one of the leading characteristics which the Japanese have displayed has been the ability for rapidly and successfully borrowing foreign ideas. With all their cleverness and intellectual quickness they have shown a curious want of originality. From their ancient traditions we learn that, before the advent of Chinese ideas in the fifth century of our era, the Japanese were content to live without letters, without civilisation, and without any well-defined system of government. The different parts of the islands now grouped together under the Mikado were ruled over by chiefs who indulged in the national habit of fighting whenever the occasion arose—and this was often. Already Korea, from which Japan is separated by only a narrow strait, had benefited by its propinquity to China, and was rejoicing in a civilisation borrowed

from that then advanced State. But though this source of enlightenment was so close at hand, it was not until the year 405 of our era that a learned Korean, named Wangin, arrived in Japan, and opened to the receptive natives all the wisdom of the Chinese sages. This scholar was at once appointed tutor to one of the local princes, and was regarded with all the veneration due to the proclaimer of a revelation. The news of Wangin's cordial reception induced other Koreans to follow in his wake; and, just as the Buddhist missionaries from India imported into China a knowledge of the doctrines of the Holy Man in the West,' so these men carried to the Japanese the words of wisdom which centuries before had fallen from the lips of Confucius and his followers. But even more important than these celebrated discourses was the knowledge of letters which was introduced as the necessary vehicle of the new learning.

The written characters of China, however, did not lend themselves readily to the expression of the Japanese language. Though related to Chinese, the Japanese tongue shows many great and marked differences from it, one of the principal being the numerous particles of inflection, which are entirely wanting in Chinese. It became necessary therefore at an early period to adopt certain Chinese characters to represent phonetically the inflections, which could not otherwise be expressed. The curious result followed that the first Japanese authors were only able to express their thoughts on paper by employing Chinese characters in this restricted sense. How cumbrous this system was may well be imagined; but it was not until the end of the ninth century that the Japanese succeeded in devising a syllabary by which a certain number of contracted Chinese characters were chosen to represent the forty-seven syllables of the Japanese language. Of these contracted characters they further introduced a cursive form, and these scripts, with the occasional introduction of Chinese characters used ideographically, have been found sufficient to supply the requirements of Japanese authors down to the present day.

With that extraordinary aptitude for assimilating new ideas which belongs to the race, the native scholars at once became ardent disciples of the Confucian school. The doctrines of this Ju Chiao,' or 'scholars' religion,' appear to be peculiarly adapted to the mental requirements of the natives of the extreme East, who do not demand that vitality in doctrine which alone makes schools of philosophy and religion acceptable in Europe. In this case they presented a novelty on which the Japanese intellect delighted to exercise itself, and students flocked to their Korean instructors if haply they might

gain an insight into the philosophy and history of China. It was not, however, until three centuries after the arrival of Wangin that the first work of which we have authentic record was committed to paper. This book, the 'Kojiki,' or 'Records of ancient matters,' purports to be a history of Japan from the earliest period, and it is commonly reported to have been dictated to the author Yasumaro by a man with so vivid a memory that he was able to 'repeat with his mouth whatever was placed before his eyes, and to record in his heart whatever struck his ears.' Like most of the Japanese legends, this one is plainly borrowed from the Chinese, in whose records it is stated that after the celebrated burning of the books in the second century before Christ a number of the lost texts were recovered from the lips of old men who had treasured the.. in their memories. The compilation of this strange patchwork of legend and fable was due to the initiative of the Emperor Temmu, who, we are told, issued the following edict on the subject:

'I hear that the chronicles of the Emperors, and likewise the original works in the possession of the various families, deviate from exact truth, and are mostly amplified by empty falsehoods. If at the present time these imperfections be not mended, before many years shall have elapsed the purport of this, the great basis of the country, the grand foundation of the monarchy, will be destroyed. So now I desire to have the chronicles of the Emperors selected and recorded, and the old words examined and ascertained, falsehoods being erased, and the truth determined in order to transmit the latter to after ages.'

If the Emperor Temmu ever seriously uttered these words he must have been bitterly disappointed by the book to which they gave rise. By no pretence can the earlier part of it be described as historical. The wildest legends are interspersed with curious pieces of folk-lore; and to anyone but a searcher after popular superstitions the majority of its pages can appear nothing more or less than a farrago of nonsense. The monkish traditions of the middle ages of Europe commonly opened with Noah's flood; but Yasumaro goes still further back, and begins with the creation of the world. This miracle was effected, according to this veracious chronicler, by a certain god and goddess who, with a heavenly spear, churned up the waters of the ocean in such a manner that the drippings from the point of the weapon became islands. Having thus established a piedà-terre the celestial pair proceeded to procreate mankind and all other living creatures. Though of heavenly nature, these deities, with other companions from the skies, were, in their

tastes and pursuits, of the earth earthy; and their morality was of such a kind that Mr. Chamberlain, who published a translation of the work in the Transactions' of the Asiatic Society of Japan, was obliged to veil many passages in the decent obscurity of the Latin tongue.

It is interesting, among other things, to find in the pages of this curious book a version of our tale of St. George and the Dragon, told with a strange identity of circumstance, the only variation being that when the Japanese St. George, after having decapitated the serpent, cut off his tail, he found within the creature a heavenly sword with which he ever afterwards went forth conquering and to conquer. Another link with English literature occurs in a later chapter of the work, where the story of Hamlet is anticipated in the person of one Mayowa, who avenges his father's murder by slaughtering his stepfather in the orthodox fashion.

The 'Kojiki' professes to record the history of the Empire down to the beginning of the eighth century. In some respects it is to be preferred to the Nihongi,' or 'History of Japan,' work which was completed about the same time. The ‘Kojiki' is, as we have said, the first existing effort of a Japanese scribe, and was written in his native language. The author of the 'Nihongi,' however, had more fully imbibed a taste for Chinese literature, and, accepting Chinese as the model literary language, wrote his pages in that tongue. The first part of his work is as fabulous as the earlier portion of the 'Kojiki,' and is further disfigured by an abundant admixture of purely Chinese legends. From the fifth century onwards it may however be accepted as a fairly historical record. But so saturated was the author with Chinese literature that he could not refrain from putting into the mouth of a dying Mikado the last speech of a Chinese sovereign, and from making another Emperor utter in his own person extracts from the Chinese 'Book of History' edited by Confucius.

As a matter of fact the Japanese have never shown any aptitude for writing history. The patient study required for the compilation of trustworthy records is foreign to their nature; and while they excel in the production of light literature, they have never made any mark as serious historians. Many works of more or less value on the history of the country have from time to time appeared, but there is nothing in Japanese literature that is at all comparable with the Twenty-two Histories of China.' During the present century an author named Rai Sanyo brought out two works which more nearly approach the European standard of history