No More Learning

Until the middle of the feast was passed, Colonel Withersby
also debated within himself whether or not the good feeling that
the Marques so liberally manifested was wholly genuine. After
that period — his own generous nature being then warmed and
stimulated by the very considerable quantities of the excellent
food and drink which had become a part of it — he dismissed all
such evil suspicions from his manly breast as being alike unworthy
of himself and his noble friend. The Marques, as he declared
heartily in his thought, was as straight as a string, and a jolly
good fellow all the way through. It was a peculiarity of Colonel
Withersby's temperament -a peculiarity that on more than one
occasion had betrayed his substantial interests — that his usually
keen and severe judgment of men and things was subject to
serious derangement by an access of what may be termed vinous
benevolence. Mrs. Mortimer and Monsieur Duvent, being among


## p. 8133 (#333) ###########################################

THOMAS ALLIBONE JANVIER
8133
the most intimate of the Colonel's friends, were well acquainted
with this genial failing in his lofty character; and because of
their knowledge of it, they viewed with increasing alarm his evi-
dent intention to make the spirit of the occasion so largely a part
of himself. They were sustained however by the comforting
knowledge - bred of an extended acquaintance with his methods
- that even when the Colonel had associated an extraordinary
quantity of extraneous spirits with his own, he still could play a
phenomenally good game of cards.
Without thought of the anxiety that his cheerful conviviality
was occasioning his friends, the Colonel rattled away in his most
lively manner, and manifested toward the Marques a constantly
increasing cordiality. Indeed, by the time that they had reached
the coffee and cigars (Mrs. Mortimer was considerate enough to
permit the gentlemen to smoke) his disposition was to vow eternal
friendship with the Marques, and to seal his vow, in the Spanish
fashion, with a fraternal embrace. But in despite of this tend-
ency of his affectionate nature toward overflow, the confidence
of his friends in his sound judgment remaining unimpaired in
the midst of its alcoholic environment was not misplaced. His
heart, it is true, was mellowed almost to melting; but it also is
true that his head remained admirably cool. Sentiment with the
Colonel was one thing; business was another. His warm fraternal
feeling for the Marques did not for one moment interfere with
his fixed intention to work him, as he somewhat coarsely had
expressed it, for all that he was worth.
It was with this utilitarian purpose full in view that the
Colonel suggested — the pleasures of eating being ended but the
pleasures of drinking still continuing - that they should end their
agreeable evening with a quiet game of cards. Being gentlemen
of the world, the Marques and Monsieur Duvent readily fell in
with this proposal. Mrs. Mortimer, it is true, entered a gentle
remonstrance against so engrossing a form of amusement, on the
ground that it would check the flow of brilliant conversation, and
also, as she playfully added, would deprive her of the undivided
attention which was her due. The gentlemen however explained
that as the game would be played merely as a pastime, and for
insignificant stakes, it would not in the smallest degree interfere
with conversation; and they vowed and protested that under no
circumstances could they fail to pay their tribute of homage to
Mrs. Mortimer's charms. In view of this explanation, and of the


## p. 8134 (#334) ###########################################

8134
THOMAS ALLIBONE JANVIER
the game.
gallant declaration that accompanied it, the lady was pleased to
withdraw her objections, and even to consent to take part in
But she was a very stupid player, she said; and
she expressed much good-humored regret for whoever should be
unlucky enough to be her partner — she was so careless, she pro-
tested, and did make such perfectly horrid mistakes.
There was a trifling delay in beginning the game, due to Mrs.
Mortimer's professed inability to find the cards with which to play
it. She was perfectly sure, she said, that somewhere about her
apartment there was a little bundle containing half a dozen new
packs; they had been given to her quite recently by one of her
friends: where she had put them she could not remember at all.
Her memory was so outrageously bad, she added while continu-
ing her search, that her life was made a veritable burden to her.
Truly, Mrs. Mortimer's memory could not have been a very good
one, for the package had been presented to her - the amiable
anonymous friend to whom she owed it being, in point of fact,
Colonel Withersby — at a period no more remote than that very
afternoon; yet a good ten minutes passed before she could re-
member that she had placed it in a drawer of her escritoire' upon
receiving it from the Colonel's hands.
She laughed merrily over her own stupidity when at last the
missing package was found; and she laughed still more when,
having cut for partners, what she gayly referred to as the dread-
fully bad luck of the Marques made them allies against Colonel
Withersby and Monsieur Duvent. Their defeat, she declared, was
a foregone conclusion: it really was too bad! The
The Marques, for
his part, vowed that he was so indifferent a player that he would
be grateful to her for the mistakes which would keep his own
lapses in countenance; and politely added that defeat in her
company would give him a pleasure far superior to that con-
ferred by a victory in which she had no share. In the matter of
making handsome speeches the Marques de Valdeflores was not
easily to be outdone.
Yet in despite of Mrs. Mortimer's bad play, - concerning
which, politeness aside, there could be no question, and in
despite of the far from brilliant play of her partner, the game
for some little time went decidedly in their favor. This was in
part accounted for by the fact that the hands which they held
were phenomenally good, while the hands held by their adver-
saries were correspondingly bad. So marked was the run of luck


## p. 8135 (#335) ###########################################

THOMAS ALLIBONE JANVIER
8135
in their favor — being most marked, indeed, when the deal lay
with Colonel Withersby or Monsieur Duvent — that the Colonel
swore in his bluff, hearty way, that the devil himself was in the
pack, and was manipulating it for the express purpose of punish-
ing him, the Colonel, for his sins; at which humorous sally there
was a general laugh.
However, at the end of an hour — by which time rather more
than half of the capital provided for the occasion by Monsieur
Duvent was arranged before Mrs. Mortimer in a gay little pile -
the Colonel said quite seriously that the luck of the pack certainly
was against him, and begged that it might be changed. There
was a smile, of course, at the Colonel's superstition; but the Mar-
ques promptly conceded the favor requested, and induced Mrs.
Mortimer also to grant it: which was not an easy matter, for she
declared that she needed all that good luck could do for her in
order to hold her own. The event really seemed to justify the
Colonel's superstitious fancy; for with the very first deal of the
new pack — he dealt it himself — the luck entirely changed. In
view of this fact, of the agreement that the stakes should be in-
creased so that the losers might have a better chance to recoup,
and of the marked increase in the number of Mrs. Mortimer's
mistakes, it will be perceived that there were several excellent
reasons why the handsome accumulation of gold in front of Mrs.
Mortimer should go even more quickly than it had come. But
oddly enough it did not go. The play of the Marques was made
in the same negligent manner that it had been made from the
start; but Monsieur Duvent observed — not without a touch of that
admiration which every professional, even though unwillingly,
concedes to professional skill — that its quality had entirely
changed. It was not brilliant, but it was cautious, firm, and
extraordinarily sure. When he dealt, his own hand was as strik-
ingly good as it was strikingly bad when the deal lay with the
Colonel or with Monsieur Duvent; Mrs. Mortimer's mistakes-
they were very numerous were handsomely covered, and even
sometimes were turned to advantage; his conduct of the game,
in short, was masterly - and the gay little pile in front of his
partner, so far from diminishing, steadily increased, Monsieur
Duvent shot an inquiring glance from under his bushy gray eye-
brows across the table at the Colonel. As understood by that
gentleman it meant, “Who have we got here, any way? The
Colonel's answering glance was intended to convey his strong
>>


## p. 8136 (#336) ###########################################

8136
THOMAS ALLIBONE JANVIER
a reserve
conviction that — to paraphrase euphemistically his thought the
cloven hoof of their adversary was invisible only because it was
covered with a neatly made patent-leather boot. At the end of
the second hour the entire capital provided by Monsieur Duvent
had changed hands.
At this stage of proceedings Monsieur Duvent and the Colonel,
taking advantage of an interruption in the game caused by the
serving of fresh coffee, held a short conference. Monsieur Du-
vent expressed decidedly the opinion that they had better stop.
The Marques, if he were a Marques, evidently knew more than
they did. The part of prudence wa
of prudence was to make the best of a
bad bargain and to drop him then and there. But the Colonel,
whose fighting spirit was thoroughly aroused, would not for a
moment consent to such ignominious surrender. He insisted that
Monsieur Duvent should provide another five hundred - merely
for a show, he said - and that the game should go on. By sheer
force of will — the Colonel was a most resolute person
- he suc.
ceeded in carrying his point. Sorely against his better judgment,
but still yielding, Monsieur Duvent produced from
fund in his private chamber the sum required; whereupon, the
coffee being finished, the game went on. But it went on
disastrously that at the end of another hour the fresh supply of
capital was exhausted, and Monsieur Duvent's thousand was ar-
ranged in front of Mrs. Mortimer in ten neat little piles. Grati-
fying though it was on abstract grounds to perceive his own
wisdom thus triumph over the Colonel's fatuous folly, there was
such substantial cause for annoyance in the situation that Mon-
sieur Duvent found no enjoyment in it. With a smile that lacked
a little in spontaneity, he suggested that they now had played
long enough.
In this temperate proposition, with excellent good-breeding,
the Marques at once concurred. But the Colonel — having con-
tinued as the night wore on to expand his spirits factitiously —
would not listen to it at all. He was for fighting as long as
any sort of a shot remained in the locker. He advanced this
view with emphasis; and suggested that in lieu of cash the
Marques should receive - should his very extraordinary luck con-
tinue-his, the Colonel's, written promises of payment, to be
redeemed on the ensuing day. Monsieur Duvent, of course,
could not reasonably object to going on when capital of this possi-
bly attenuated nature was employed; and the Marques accepted
SO
---


## p. 8137 (#337) ###########################################

THOMAS ALLIBONE JANVIER
8137
the proposal with a polite alacrity that quite touched the Colonel's
heart.
On the promissory basis thus established, but with the luck
steadily against the Colonel and his partner, the game was
continued until four o'clock in the morning. When this hour
arrived, the Marques announced placidly that inasmuch as he
was habitually an early riser, it really was time for him to go to
bed. He had greatly enjoyed his evening, he said; it was one
of the most agreeable and amusing evenings, in fact, that he
had ever passed. In handsome terms he smilingly congratulated
Mrs. Mortimer upon the good luck that had attended her bad
play, and insisted that two-thirds of their joint winnings should
be hers. Nothing could be more liberal than this arrangement.
In pursuance of it he turned over to her the two thousand dol-
lars represented by Colonel Withersby's paper, and slipped the
thousand dollars in gold into his own pocket as his own mod-
est share. Then he shook hands heartily with the gentlemen;
gallantly kissed the tips of Mrs. Mortimer's white fingers; and
bidding the company a most cordial good-night, left the room.
As the door closed behind him there was a moment of silence,
and then the Colonel accurately expressed the sense of the meet-
ing in the terse observation, Well, I'll be -!
-»
V
IN THE early afternoon of the day that had begun for them
so disastrously, a little council of war was held by the vanquished
in Mrs. Mortimer's apartment. In a general way, the council
was swayed by a common motive; but its several members con-
templated this motive through the media of widely different
moods.
Mrs. Mortimer, sitting with her back to the carefully adjusted
light, apparently was none the worse for her late hours; and she
was by no means cast down by the defeat that she had witnessed
but in which she had not precisely shared, Her net loss, after
all, was only half the cost of the little supper; and she was not
by any means certain that this loss was absolute — rather was
she inclined to look upon it in the light of an investment. Mar-
ques or no Marques, the Spanish gentleman had commended
himself heartily to her good graces by his obviously masterful
qualities in the acquisition of property. Mrs. Mortimer had
seen too much of the world to be dazzled by a title: that which


## p. 8138 (#338) ###########################################

8138
THOMAS ALLIBONE JANVIER
inspired her respect and won her esteem was substantial wealth -
and her liberal spirit held her high above all petty and trivial
objections to the manner in which the wealth was acquired. That
it actually existed was quite enough for her. She was absolutely
indifferent, thrrefore, as to whether the Marques de Valdeflores
possessed large hereditary estates in Spain or large hereditary
skill in playing games of so-called chance. In either case the
result practically was the same: he was a man of substance, with
whom the most friendly relations eminently were to be desired.
She had observed also with pleasure that his caution was equal
to his skill. Although herself the sufferer by it, she had com-
mended him rather than blamed him for his intelligent division
of their joint winnings. On the face of it, this division had been
characterized by a magnificent generosity; but no one knew bet-
ter than she did that the generosity was more apparent than real.
Before retiring, she had used twelve hundred dollars' worth of
Colonel Withersby's paper in crimping her hair, and carelessly
had thrown the remainder of these valuable securities into her
waste-paper basket. Some disagreeable reflections, it is true, had
attended her prodigal use of the impotentiality of wealth that
the Marques had lavished upon her; but at the same time, she
had been unable to withhold her profound respect for the deli-
cate adroitness that his conduct of this transaction had displayed.
His method had nothing coarse about it. It was not bludgeon
work: it was the effective finesse of the rapier. Mrs. Mortimer
was not a bad hand, in a ladylike way, at rapier practice herself.
She felt that could she but ally herself with such a past master
of the art as the Marques had proved himself to be, her future
would be assured. She came to the council therefore in the
spirit of doves and olive branches, with every fibre of her tender
being prepared to thrill responsive to the soft phrase of peace.
Her proposition was, the Marques having proved himself to be a
good deal more than a match for them, that they should cease
to regard him as an enemy, and should frankly invite him to be
their associate and friend.
In opposition to these peaceful views of Mrs. Mortimer's,
Colonel Withersby — coming to the council with the vigor and in
the temper of a giant refreshed with cocktails — was all for war.
The Colonel's pride was wounded; his finer sensibilities were
hurt. The very qualities which Mrs. Mortimer most admired in
the Marques — his delicate method, his refined skill, his perfect


## p. 8139 (#339) ###########################################

THOMAS ALLIBONE JANVIER
8139
savoir-faire — were precisely the qualities which the Colonel most
strongly resented. It was cruelly galling to his self-respect to
be conquered with weapons which he perceived were infinitely
superior to his own, and which he also perceived were hopelessly
beyond his power to use. In the course of his rather remarka-
bly variegated career, Colonel Withersby repeatedly had received
what he was wont to describe, in his richly figurative language,
as black eyes; but he always had had at least the poor satisfac-
tion of knowing how and why the darkening of his orbs of vision
had been achieved. In this case however he did not know how,
still less why, his adversary had triumphed over him. Certainly
Monsieur Duvent had made no mistakes; save in the matter of
unwisely prolonging the play, he himself had made no mistakes;
and Mrs. Mortimer, to do her justice, had made all the mistakes
expected of her, and even a few to spare. Rarely had three
intelligent persons contrived a more effective programme; rarely
had such a programme been more exactly carried out. Humanly
and logically its results should have been honorable victory
attended by substantial spoils. Yet its diabolical and illogical
result actually was humiliating disaster attended by substantial
loss. Being at the best of times but a heathen, it is not sur-
prising that under these trying circumstances Colonel Withersby
raged; nor that raging, he cast his voice for war.
Monsieur Duvent, whose temperament was conservative, re-
jected the Colonel's truculent suggestions and ranged himself
with Mrs. Mortimer on the side of a profitable peace. Their
Spanish friend, he declared, speaking out of the wealth of his
experience of the world, evidently was not a Marques: he was
one of themselves. It was generally conceded, he continued, that
dog ought not to eat dog (Monsieur Duvent expressed this con-
cept, of course, in its French equivalent, les loups ne se mangent
pas entre eux); and it was universally admitted that when a
feast of this unnatural sort took place, only the dog who did the
eating got any real good from it. They themselves, he pointed
out, - especially he himself, since his was the capital that the
Marques had absorbed, -- occupied the position of the other dog,
the eaten one. Obviously that position was as unprofitable as
it was humiliating. Consequently, he concluded, their rational
course in the premises was that which Mrs. Mortimer had indi-
cated: to seek an alliance with this most accomplished person-
which should be continued at least until they had mastered the


## p. 8140 (#340) ###########################################

8140
THOMAS ALLIBONE JANVIER
-
secrets of his superior skill. When they knew as much as he
did, said Monsieur Duvent, they could throw him over and have
done with him; just at present he knew a great deal more than
they, and it was largely to their interest to make him their
friend. There was no false pride about Monsieur Duvent. His
thirst for professional knowledge was inexhaustible, and he was
eager at all times to slake it at any source.
Colonel Withersby was not pleased to find himself in so con-
spicuous a minority; and he was open, not to say violent, in
expressing his displeasure. His was a bold, aggressive nature,
and the cocktails wherewith he had refreshed himself had not
tended to take any of the fighting spirit out of him. Had he not
occupied the trying position of a dependent, — for without the
assistance of his friends he would lack sinews for his intended
war,- he would have been abusive. Under the existing circum-
stances he was argumentative. The Spaniard, he admitted, cer-
tainly knew a great deal about cards; in that line of gentlemanly
amusement, no doubt, it would be well to avoid any further trial
of conclusions with him. But when it came to dice the case was
different. In throwing dice, the Colonel declared with a sincere
immodesty, he had yet to meet the man who could get ahead of
him. Let him but have a square chance to settle matters on that
basis with the Marques, and all would yet be well. The others,
if they did not want to, need not appear in the matter at all. If
they would but set him up with a beggarly hundred — merely
enough to make a show with — he would ask no more of them.
Being thus started, he would go ahead and win the victory alone.
And finally, with the most convincing self-imprecations if he
didn't, the Colonel protested that he would divide on the square.
Monsieur Duvent stroked doubtfully his respectable gray mus.
tache. On the one hand he had great confidence in the Colonel's
skill in the manipulation of dice. On the other hand his estimate
of the skill of the Marques in all directions was very high. It
was altogether probable, he thought, that a man who evidently
had made so profound a study of the scientific possibilities of
pasteboard had pressed his researches not less deeply into the
scientific possibilities of ivory. If he had, then would the Colo-
nel be but as wax in his hands. Therefore Monsieur Duvent
hesitated; and with each moment of his hesitation his disposition
tended the more strongly to take the ground that he declined to
throw good money after bad.


## p. 8141 (#341) ###########################################

THOMAS ALLIBONE JANVIER
8141
Fortunately for Colonel Withersby, the tender nature of Mrs.
Mortimer had not been appealed to in vain. As she herself had
said, the Colonel had done her many good turns in the past; and
she saw no reason for doubting that he might do her many more
good turns in the future — which latter consideration may have
been remotely the cause of the flood of kindly intention that now
welled up within her gentle breast. She was a pronounced free-
trader, and her knowledge of the world assured her that recip-
rocity could not always be only on one side. Had the Colonel
asked her to join him openly in carrying on his campaign against
the Marques, she certainly would have refused his request. That
would have been asking too much. But the Colonel's proposal to
fight his battle alone — and to divide the spoils in case he should
be victorious put the matter on a basis that enabled her to
give free play to the generous dictates of her heart. She there.
fore added her entreaties to his appeal to Monsieur Duvent for
assistance; and even went so far as to offer to join equally with
that gentleman in providing the small amount of capital without
which the little venture in ivory could not be launched.
Whether or not this liberal offer would have sufficed to over-
come Monsieur Duvent's parsimonious hesitancy, never will be
known. At the very moment that he opened his mouth to speak
the words which no doubt would have been decisive, there was a
knock at the door; then a servant entered bearing a great bunch
of magnificent roses -- all of which, however, being very full-
blown, were somewhat past their prime. An envelope directed to
Mrs. Mortimer was attached to this handsome yet slightly equivo-
cal floral tribute. Within the envelope was the card of the Mar-
ques de Valdeflores, on which was penciled the request that she
would accept the accompanying trifling souvenir of the very
agreeable evening that he had passed in her company and in the
company of her friends. In the right-hand bottom corner of the
card were added the letters P. P. C. In many ways Mrs. Mor-
timer was not a perfect woman; but among her imperfections
was not that of stupidity. As she looked at this bunch of too-
full-blown roses, and realized the message that it was intended
delicately to convey, the dove-like and olive-branching sentiments
departed from her breast — and in their place came sentiments
compounded of daggers and bowstrings and very poisonous bowls!
As for Colonel Withersby, having but glanced at the fateful
letters on the card that Mrs. Mortimer mutely handed hiin, he


## p. 8142 (#342) ###########################################

8142
THOMAS ALLIBONE JANVIER
descended to the office of the Casa Napoléon in little more than
a single bound. little more than two bounds he returned to
the first floor. Consternation was written upon his expressive
face, and also rage. In a sentence that was nothing short of
blistering in its intensity, he announced the ruinous fact that the
Marques de Valdeflores had sailed at six o'clock that morning on
the French steamer, and at that moment must be at least two
hundred miles out at sea!
VI
Dr. THÉOPHILE had but little to say when Madame told him
with triumphal sorrow that the Marques de Valdeflores had paid
his bill in full and had departed for his native Spain. Madame's
mixture of sentiments was natural. Her triumph was because
her estimate of the financial integrity of the Marques had been
justified by the event; her sorrow was because so profitable a
patron was gone from the Casa Napoléon. The few words which
Dr. Théophile spoke, in his softened French of Guadeloupe, were
to the effect that a man was not necessarily a Marques because
he happened to pay his bill at a hotel. Madame resented this
answer hotly. It was more, she said, than ungenerous: it was
heartlessly unjust. She challenged Dr. Théophile to disprove by
any evidence save his own miserable suspicions that the Marques
was not a Marques; she defied him to do his worst! Dr. Théo-
phile said mildly that he really could not afford the time requi-
site for abstract research of this nature, and added that he had no
worst to do. Madame declared that his reply was inconclusive;
an obvious endeavor to evade the question that he himself had
raised. Dr. Théophile smiled pleasantly, and answered that as
usual, she was quite right.
Had Madame only known it, she might have called Colonel
Withersby as a witness in her behalf; for the Colonel, had he
been willing to testify, could have made her triumph over Dr.
Théophile complete. Being curious to get down to what he
termed the hard-pan in regard to the Marques, he had made an
expedition of inquiry to the Spanish consulate on the very day
that that nobleman had sailed away.
"Certainly,” said the polite young man who answered his
pointed question: "the Marques de Valdeflores had been in New
York for nearly a month. His visit had been one of business:
to arrange with a firm of American contractors for the building


## p. 8143 (#343) ###########################################

THOMAS ALLIBONE JANVIER
8143
of a tramway in the city of Tarazona. He had completed his
business satisfactorily. "
The Colonel's usual ruddy face whitened a little as he listened
to this statement. The tramway project really, then, had been a
substantial one after all! This was bitter indeed. But perhaps
it was not true; the young man might be only chaffing him. His
voice was hoarse, and there was a perceptible break in it as he
said, “Honest Injun, now - you're giving it to me straight ? ”
The young man looked puzzled. He was by no means famil-
iar with the intricacies of the English language, and his mental
translation of these words into literal Spanish did not yield a
very intelligible result.
Perceiving the confusion that was caused by his use of a too
extreme form of his own vernacular, the Colonel repeated his
question in substance in the Spanish tongue: Of a truth he is a
Marques, and rich ? There is no mistake ? »
The young man perceptibly brightened. “Oh, of a truth
there is no mistake, señor,” he answered. "He is a Marques,
and enormously rich. To see him you would not think so, per-
haps; for his habits are very simple, and he is as modest in his
manner as in his dress. You see he has given much of his time
to business matters; and he has traveled a great deal. ”
Colonel Withersby witlıdrew from the consulate. His desire
for information was more than satisfied: it was satiated. In the
relative privacy of the passageway outside the consulate door, his
pent-up feelings found vent.
“Traveled, has he ? » ejaculated the colonel, with a series
of accessory ejaculations of such force that the air immediately
around him became perceptibly blue. «Traveled! Well, I should
say he had!
I've traveled a little myself, but I'll be ” — the
Colonel here dropped into minor prophecy - "if he hasn't gone
two miles to my one every time! ”
LOVE LANE
From In Old New York. Copyright 1894, by Harper & Brothers
A.
S All the world knows — barring, of course, that small portion
of the world which is not familiar with old New York -
the Kissing Bridge of a century ago was on the line of
the Boston Post Road (almost precisely at the intersection of the


## p. 8144 (#344) ###########################################

8144
THOMAS ALLIBONE JANVIER
Third Avenue and Seventy-seventh Street of the present day),
about four miles out of town. And all the world, without any
exception whatever, must know that after crossing a kissing-bridge
the ridiculously short distance of four miles is no distance at all.
Fortunately for the lovers of that period, it was possible to go
roundabout from the Kissing Bridge to New York by a route
which very agreeably prolonged the oscupontine situation: that is
to say, by the Abingdon Road, close on the line of the present
Twenty-first Street, to the Fitzroy Road, nearly parallel from
Fifteenth Street to Forty-second Street with the present Eighth
Avenue; thence down to the Great Kiln Road, on the line of the
present Gansevoort Street; thence to the Greenwich Road, on the
line of the present Greenwich Street- and so, along the river-
side, comfortably slowly back to town.
It is a theory of my own that the Abingdon Road received
a more romantic name because it was the first section of this
devious departure from the straight path, leading townward into
the broad way which certainly led quite around Robin Hood's
barn, and may also have led to destruction, but which bloomed
with the potentiality of a great many extra kisses wherewith the
Kissing Bridge (save as a point of departure) had nothing in the
world to do. I do not insist upon my theory; but I state as an
undeniable fact that in the latter half of the last century the
Abingdon Road was known generally -- and I infer from contem-
porary allusions to it, favorably —as Love Lane.
To avoid confusion, and also to show how necessary were such
amatory appurtenances to the gentle-natured inhabitants of this
island in earlier times, I must here state that the primitive Kiss-
ing Bridge was in that section of the Post Road which now is
Chatham Street; and that in this same vicinity - on the Rutgers
estate - was the primitive Love Lane. It was of the older insti.
tution that an astute and observant traveler in this country, the
Rev. Mr. Burnaby, wrote in his journal a century and a half
ago:— “Just before you enter the town there is a little bridge,
commonly called the kissing-bridge,' where it is customary,
before passing beyond, to salute the lady who is your companion;'
to which custom the reverend gentleman seems to have taken
with a very tolerable relish, and to have found “curious, yet not
displeasing. ”


## p. 8145 (#345) ###########################################

8145
JAPANESE LITERATURE
BY CLAY MACCAULEY
IVILIZATION in Japan bears date from a time much more recent
than that generally ascribed to it. The uncritical writers
who first made Japan known to Western peoples accepted
the historical traditions treasured by the Japanese as a record of fact.
In the popular imaginings of the West, consequently, Japan is a land
in which for at least twenty-five centuries an organized society, under
a monarchy of unbroken descent, possessed of a relatively high though
unique culture in the sciences and arts, has had place and develop-
ment. But during the last twenty years, competent students have
discovered that Japanese civilization is comparatively modern. They
cannot carry its authentic history much farther back than about half-
way over the course that has been usually allowed for it. No reliance
can be placed upon any date or report in Japanese tradition prior to
near the opening of the fifth Christian century. Undoubtedly there
was, as in all other lands, some basis for long-established tradition;
but the glimpses of Japan and its people obtained through the Chi-
nese and Korean annals of the early Christian centuries disclose the
inhabitants of these islands, not with an organized State and society,
peaceful, prosperous, and learned, but as segregated into clans or
tribes practically barbarous and wholly illiterate; the clan occupying
the peninsula east of the present cities of Kyoto and Osaka having
then become leader and prospective sovereign. Certainly before the
.
third Christian century was well advanced there was no knowledge
whatever of letters in Japan; and certainly too, for a long time after
the art of writing had been brought into the country there was
popular use or knowledge of the art.
no
1. - HISTORICAL SKETCH
The knowledge of letters was in all probability introduced into
Japan by Korean immigrants. Their language and writing were
Chinese. In the fourth century there may have been among the
Japanese some learners of this new knowledge. The Japanese claim
positively that in the fifth century their national traditions, hitherto
transmitted orally, were written down by adepts in the new art.
But whatever may be true of the earlier centuries, it is perfectly
XIV-510


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JAPANESE LITERATURE
clear that in the first half of the sixth century many scholars came
to these islands from the continent, and were given positions of trust
in the administration of the doininant government in Yamato; and
that from the year 552 A. D. , with the acceptance of Buddhism by
those highest in authority, and the full inflow of Chinese influence
upon society, literature in Japan began to have permanent place and
power.
But literature in Japan and Japanese literature are two quite dif-
ferent things. They are as unlike as the Latin writings of mediæval
Germany and the German writings of later times. Japanese literature
does not date from the notable acquisition by the Japanese of a
knowledge of letters. Not with that, nor for a long time afterwards,
was any serious attempt made among them to express in writing the
language of the people. In all probability this was not done until
towards the end of the seventh century. The higher officials of State
and of the Church — the new Buddhism — had a monopoly of learn-
ing; and their writings prior to the eighth century were, so far as is
known, wholly Chinese in word and in form. But as the eighth cen.
tury opened, a medium for the production of a Japanese literature
was receiving shape. A kind of script devised from Chinese ideo-
graphs for the purpose of expressing Japanese speech was coming
into use: that is, Chinese characters were being written for the sake
of their phonetic values; their sounds, not their meanings, reprodu-
cing Japanese words and sentences. In this so-called manyokana the
first material embodied was in all probability that for which verba-
tim transliteration was necessary, such as ancient prayers and songs.
With this phonetic writing a literature distinctively Japanese was
made possible, and had its beginnings.
The earliest Japanese literary product now existing is a marvelous
summary of treasured tradition, called the Kojiki' or 'Record of
Old Things' (see page 8155), written by imperial command in the
year 712. The Kojiki' is a professed history of creation, of the
Divine genesis of the imperial family of Japan, and of the career of
this “people of the gods” down into the early part of the century
preceding its composition. To the student of Japanese literature the
(Kojiki' is especially valuable, because in it are preserved the old-
est known products of the purely literary impulses of the Japanese.
Long before the Japanese could write, they could sing; and there is
good reason to accept the songs given in the Kojiki' as heritages
from the much farther past.
Within nine years after the appearance of the “Kojiki, another
compilation of national tradition was made, bringing the story of the
nation down to the close of the seventh century. This work (year 720)
is called Nihongi' or Japanese Records) (see page 8156). But it
)


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JAPANESE LITERATURE
8147
is almost wholly Chinese in language and in construction. Its special
value, considered as part of Japanese literature, lies in its preserva-
tion of some old Japanese verse.
The chief depository, however, of Japanese literature in its begin-
nings is the treasury of poems (completed about 760) gathered dur-
ing the Nara Era,— the Manyoshū or Collection of Myriad Leaves
(see pages 8157 to 8161). In these books the choicest utterances in
Japanese verse then existing were garnered. They remain now an in-
valuable memorial of the intellectual awakening that followed Japan's
first historic intercourse with Korea and China.
But the manyokana, as a means for Japanese literary expression,
was altogether too cumbersome and difficult for continued and en-
larged use. Consequently, as writing in the language of the people
increased, the ideographs that had been utilized for phonetic purposes
became simpler and more conventional. At about the time the
(Manyoshūwas finished, from among these ideographs two syllaba-
ries, the katakana (757), and the hiragana (834), were formed, and a
free writing of the Japanese language at last became possible. These
syllabaries were gradually extended in use, and at the close of the
ninth century gained honored recognition as the medium for embody-
ing Japanese speech by their adoption in the writing of the preface
to, and in the transcription of, a new collection of poems made under
imperial order,- the Kokinshū? or Ancient and Modern Songs
(905: see pages 8161, 8162). These poems show at its full fruition
whatever poetic excellence the Japanese people have gained. They
are to-day the most studied and most quoted of all the many gather-
ings from Japanese song.
Japanese literature, having received a vehicle adequate to its ex-
pression, and indorsement by the highest authority, with the opening
of the ninth century entered upon an era lasting for nearly four hun-
dred years; an era in which, with the co-operation of the general
maturing culture of the empire, it passed through what is now known
as its Classic Age. During these four centuries the capital of the
empire lost the nomadic character it had had from time immemorial.
With the removal of the imperial family from Nara in 794, the capital
became fixed in Kyoto, to stay there for the next eleven hundred
years. Through these four centuries the national development was
for the most part serene. The ruling classes entered upon a career
of high culture, refinement, and elegance of life, that passed however
in the end into an excess of luxury, debilitating effeminacy, and dis-
sipation. During the best part of these memorable centuries Japanese
literature as belles-lettres culminated; leaving to after times, even to
the present day, models for pure Japanese diction. The court nobles
of the eleventh and twelfth centuries had abundant leisure for the


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JAPANESE LITERATURE
(C
culture of letters, and they devoted their time to that, and to the
pursuit of whatever other refined or luxurious pleasures imagination
could devise. For instance, among the many notable intellectual dis-
sipations of the age were reunions at daybreak among the spring
flowers, and boat rides during autumnal moonlighted nights, by aris-
tocratic devotees of music and verse who vied with one another in
exhibits of their skill with these arts. The culture of literature in
the Chinese language never wholly ceased; but from the ninth to the
thirteenth centuries the creation of a literature in the language of
the people was the chief pastime of the official and aristocratic Jap-
anese. Before the rise the Shogunate at the close of the twelfth
century, no less than seven great compilations of the poetry of the
times were made.
Especially notable among the works of this classic age are the
prose writings. Critics call attention first to the diary of a famous
poet, Tsurayuki: notes of a journey he made in 935. from Tosa
where he was governor, to Kyoto the capital. This diary, the “Tosa
Nikki' (see page 8164) is said to be not only a simple and charming
story of travel, but to be the best extant embodiment of uncontam-
inated Japanese speech. Then there remain from the same epoch
many romances” or “tales," monogatari, now much studied and val-
ued for their linguistic excellences. Probably the earliest among
them, the “Taketori Monogatari? or (Story of a Bamboo Cutter' (850–
950: see pages 8165, 8166), which tells of the fortunes of a Moon
maiden exiled for a while in this world, is said to have, for purity of
thought and language, no rival in Japanese or Chinese fiction. The
Ise Monogatari' or Story of Ise (850-950) has also admiring critics.
Its prose and poetry are both studied as models to-day, its poetry
being ranked next to that of the Kokinshū. The (Sumiyoshi' and
the Yamato Monogatari,' too (900-1000: see pages 8162 to 8164) must
be named as choice tenth-century classics. The culmination of Japan-
ese classic prose, however, as nearly all critics agree, was reached
with the writing of the Romance of Prince Genji' and the Book
of the Pillow': the 'Genji Monogatari (1003-4), and the Makura no
Soshi' (1000–1050), both appearing early in the eleventh century (see
pages 8166 to 8170). They are the work of two ladies of the court,
Murasaki Shikibu and Sei Shonagon. The (Genji' romance leads
all works in Japanese literature in the fluency and grace of its dic-
tion; but the Pillow Book) is said to be matchless in the ease and
lightness and general artistic excellence of its literary touch. These
works stand as the consummate achievements of the classic age in
prose. They mark also the end of this memorable literary epoch.
At the close of the twelfth century Japan became a battle-field for
civil wars. War and the interests of war became supreme. Learning


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JAPANESE LITERATURE
8149
and letters were gradually relegated to priests, and literature soon
ceased to exist. The Chinese language again became the chief vehi-
cle of whatever literary work was done.
From the twelfth century to the rise of the Tokugawa Shogunate
in the seventeenth century, the empire passed through its Middle or
“Dark Age. During these five centuries, although numerous writ-
ings for political and religious (see page 8178) purposes appeared,
but little work of importance for the history of Japanese literature
was produced. Some collections of verse may be excepted from this
judgment. Two bits of prose writing, the Hōjōki(1212 ? ) of Chomei
(see pages 8170, 8171), and the “Tsure-zure gusa' (1345 ? ) of Yoshida
Kenko' (see pages 8171, 8172), have qualities that make them espe-
cially noteworthy. The “Höjõki,'— the meditations of a hermit priest
in a mountain hut, written near the beginning of the thirteenth
century, — simple, fluent, vivacious, and yet forcible in style, - are
esteemed as preserving for the language an excellence like that of
the Makura no Sōshi. And the Tsure zure gusa' or Weeds of
Idleness,' short essays composed in the fourteenth century, is the last
notable example of the form and speech that gave to the classic
age its commanding position in the development of pure Japanese
literature. The Weeds of Idleness, moreover, has the distinction
of opening the way for the literary speech that came into full devel-
opment in the seventeenth century, and has since been the language
of the literature of Japan. In these essays, Chinese words were set
into Japanese forms of speech without doing violence to Japanese
modes of expression. The "Tsure-zure gusa' has thereby the double
merit of embodying the highest literary excellence of a past age, and
the beginnings of a new linguistic development.
Further, the mediæval centuries are of importance to the literature
of Japan from the development in them of a form of musical drama
called the No no Utai (see pages 8173, 8174); originating in the an-
cient sacred dances and temple amusements cared for by the priests,
- the only men of letters of the time. These lyric plays are dateless
and anonymous, but they have considerable literary worth. Accom-
panying the severer sacred drama and serving as interludes for them,
many comedies, kyōgen, written in the ordinary colloquial of the day,
were produced. These comic writings possess small literary but much
linguistic value.
The next noteworthy event in Japan's literary history was the re-
vival, under the early Tokugawa Shõguns, of the study of the ancient
imperial records, and of the writings of the classic age.
The great
first Tokugawa Shogun, leyasu, at the beginning of the seventeenth
century subjected and quieted the warring clans of the country.
age of peace, to last for the next two hundred and fifty years, was


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8150
JAPANESE LITERATURE
a
then entered upon. One of the most important results of the liter-
ary revival that accompanied these happy days for the State was the
full maturing of a standard language for literature. What Yoshida
Kenko had begun in 'Tsure-zure gusa'— the amalgamation of a
Chinese vocabulary with purely Japanese forms of speech — was
well carried forward by the Mito school of historians towards the
opening of the eighteenth century (the "Age of Genroku,” 1688–1703);
and as the century advanced, was perfected by the accomplished
critics, novelists, and dramatists of the times. To such critics as
Keichiu (1640–1701), Mabuchi (1700-1769), Motoori (1730-1800: see page
8184), and Hirata (1776-1843), Japanese literature is indebted for elab-
orate critical commentaries upon the Kojiki,' the Manyoshū, and
the ancient Shinto ritual; and from them the writers of after days
received models in composition and style. The novelists, especially
Bakin (1767-1840: see pages 8183, 8184), and Ikku (1763-1831), created
much-prized works in fiction; Bakin, master of a style almost classical
in quality, and Ikku, notwithstanding an objectionable coarseness of
subjects, displaying great literary skill. In the Tokugawa period
appeared, among many others, two remarkable dramatists: Takeda
Izumo (1690-1756: see pages 8179 to 8182), and Chikamatsu Monza-
yemon (1652–1724),— the latter showing such minute analysis of the
motives of human character and action that he has been called the
Japanese Shakespeare.
With mention of the work of these writers this mere sketch of the
course of Japanese literature may close. Within the last half-century
the life of the Japanese people as a whole has been subjected to a
radical revolution. This secluded nation has opened its borders to
free intercourse with the rest of the world. The recent history of
Japanese literature, interesting though it be, is yet in largest meas-
ure but a story of the importation and adaptation of Western thought
to Japanese uses. For present purposes it need not come under con-
sideration.
We may take a glance, in passing, at the literature of Japan in
general considered. As a whole, it has been for the greater part
Chinese in language and script. As distinctly Japanese, this liter-
ature has had in fact only one period of dominance and high excel.
lence, – that lying between the eighth and the thirteenth centuries.
The eighteenth-century literary revival was not a return to either
the kana writing or to the native language of the classics; it was at
the best an extension of the Chinese vocabulary, and the amalgama-
tion of Chinese ideographs with the kana script in sentences that
were Japanese in idiom and in construction. The Japanese literature
of modern times has consequently been a composite of Chinese
and Japanese words and writing. Chinese literature as affected by


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JAPANESE LITERATURE
8151
Japanese writers is at the present day rapidly decreasing in mass
and in value.
Looked at as literature only, literature in Japan is exceedingly
voluminous. It exists as extensive libraries of history, State records,
and private historical digests; as regulations of court ceremonial;
as codifications and commentaries upon civil and other law; as state-
ments and expositions of doctrine and ritual for Shinto and Buddhism
in religion, and of the ethics of Confucianism; as treatises upon Chi-
nese philosophies; as biographies, records of travel, and works in fic-
tion; as disquisitions on art; as general encyclopædias of topography,
zoology, botany, and other departments of natural phenomena; as
dramatic works; as records of folk-lore; and though last, by no means
the least in mass, as poetry and comment upon the poems. The art
of printing, as block-printing, was brought to Japan as early as the
eighth century. Printing from movable types was known at the end
of the fourteenth century. In the seventeenth century the use of the
press became general, and large quantities of the manuscripts hoarded
for centuries reappeared as printed books, increasing in numbers until
in recent times they have become one of the common possessions of
the people throughout the empire.
II. - CONTENT AND VALUE
TURNING now from the history of Japanese literature, let us look
for a moment at its content. How shall we characterize this? What
is its value ?
At the outset it must be acknowledged that in general the liter-
ature of Japan does not abound in matter of direct or living interest
to Western readers. It had its springs in conditions and circum-
stances very different from those of the literature of the Occident.
Its references to custom, to historic events, to personages and places
of tradition, introduce the European and American reader into an
environment almost wholly unfamiliar. Its motives for action, its
praise and censure of conduct, are governed by standards which in
many ways are unlike those dominant in the life of far-away peoples.
Then its modes of expression have scarcely anything in common with
the ways of speech to which the mind of the West has become
habituated, and which the Western mind enjoys. In fact, the Occi-
dental reader, generally speaking, has neither the requisite mental
habit and intelligence, nor the peculiar mood, needed for an appre-
ciative interest in the literature of the Japanese.
It would be injustice however to much that is of real value, to turn
this judgment into a sweeping condemnation. Japanese literature is
strange and alien; it is to the dweller in the West, as a rule, dull and


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JAPANESE LITERATURE
unmeaning; its speech is painstakingly minute, dwelling upon details
that in European speech are passed with hardly a touch, - the ver-
boseness dragging its way through sentences that seem at times inter-
minable. And then, in much that must be accepted as literature
proper, as the belles-lettres of the Japanese, there is a free display of
thought and act forbidden in recent centuries by the moral standard
of the approved literature of the West. But this literature holds the
records of a peculiar and extensive mythology and folk-lore; it shows
the origin and development of a unique system of government; it
exhibits the elaboration of a social order of remarkable stability, and
the operation of society under a system of ceremonial etiquette in the
highest degree complex and refined. In this literature the ethnologist,
the psychologist, the student of comparative religion, the art critic, the
historian, and often the general reader, can find much pleasant enter-
tainment and profitable study. There is in it, notwithstanding a mass
of dull, prolix, and profitless matter, a considerable contribution to the
world's means of diversion and stores of knowledge. The reader, it
must be said, will look in vain into Japanese literature for intellect-
ual creativeness or invention. The Japanese mind is characteristically
neither original nor adventurous. In Japanese history, no philosophy
or science has been started or been much advanced. From a remote
past the people of this empire have been learners and followers of
nations endowed as pioneers and discoverers. Their genius for the
most part has lain in the appropriation and refinement of the gains
first made by others. Accepting their monarchy as a direct descent
of heavenly power into the lower world, the Japanese from ancient
times have subordinated themselves to it under the sway of the twin
chief virtues of the Confucian ethics, loyalty and filial piety. Under
the influence of these principles a social order was developed, marked
by a devotion to emperor, lord, parent, and to all superiors in the
relations of man with man, that showed a self-abnegation such as
has probably never been seen among any other people. Accompany-
ing this universal social systematization was a ceremonial refine-
ment, a graceful complexity of etiquette, developed with consummate
excellence, and dominating even the humblest parts of the civil and
domestic organism. As results of their social discipline, the Japanese
as a people long ago accepted life as they were born to it, without
disturbing impatience or restless ambitions; they achieved great con-
tentment with but small means for self-gratification; and they were
prepared to yield life itself with a readiness almost unknown among
self-assertive peoples. The learning of Japan — that is, the religion
really directing the people; Buddhism; the principles and much of the
detail of their law; whatever might be classed as science and philoso-
phy – was received from abroad. Among the Japanese these things


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8153
gained elaboration, and in most of their relations received refinement
with the lapse of the centuries. Hardly any of the industries, and
we may say none of the fine arts, were originated by this people.
The Japanese however have carried such interests, their arts espe-
cially, to degrees of excellence that have drawn to them universal
admiration. Of all this and of much else, Japanese literature bears
good record, and therefore has noteworthy interest and value to the
peoples of remote lands.
In one department of letters, however, it may be said that the
Japanese have wrought from a beginning, and have produced results
that are specifically their own. Their poetry had its origin in a pre-
historic age, and it has had a culture down to the present day distinct-
ively individual and unique. Much Chinese poetry has been written
in Japan, and by Japanese writers; but unlike prose, Japanese verse
has never been subjected to Chinese ways of thought and expression.
With but little variation the oldest native song is still the model for
Japanese poetry. In form it is an alternation of verses of five and
seven syllables (naga uta: see page 8178); in expression it is exceed-
ingly compact and limited. There are a few poems, like the legend
of Urashima Taro' (see page 8157), having some length; but the
versification most in favor consists of only three or five of the fixed
five and seven syllable measures. The standard model is the tanka,
a five-verse composition, containing in all thirty-one syllables; like
the most ancient song just referred to, the song of the god Susano-o,
sung at the building of a bridal palace for the gods. “When this
Great Deity first built the palace of Suga,” says the Kojiki, clouds
rose up thence.