The Compera temple contains images very similar to those worshipped by the Chinese. The priest’s ordinary costume is not the simple grey habiliment used in China, but of a more elaborate description. We questioned a young priest as to the names of the various articles he wore, and I note down the following list, giving the names in Japanese and English: Waistband, obee; outer vestment, kemono; loose jacket, how-odie; under waistband, c’tah obee; loose inner vest, jee-bung-nz; stocking, tabie; sandals, zodie.
A Lady’s Visit to Manilla and Japan (1863)
I often longed very much to be able to speak the Japanese language, which I thought rather a pretty one. The natives, too, whom I met, who were always very affable, seemed particularly pleased when I endeavoured to put a few of their words together.
A Lady’s Visit to Manilla and Japan (1863)
Of the language itself we dare say but little, for fear of getting out of our depth; but a certain amount of it we were obliged to learn for our own convenience. Some satisfied themselves by picking up what they could as they went along; others saved themselves much trouble by engaging a teacher for a short time on first arrival. It is not difficult to acquire sufficient for conversational purposes, or, at all events, for communicating one’s wants; and though it is doubtful whether we learnt the purest dialect, it served our ends equally well.
So far from Japanese in any way resembling the guttural gibberish of Chinese,—a language that always reminded us of the noise made by a dog when gnawing a bone,—it is not at all unlike Italian; and when heard gliding musically from the cherry lips of a pretty moosmi, had ever a soft and pleasant sound—at least to our young ears.
Our Life in Japan (1869)
Spoken by a Japanese lady, this language is as soft and almost as musical as Italian; but when sung under your windows by some half-drunken wight, who finishes each line with an explosive abruptness, suggestive of a punch in the stomach, it is anything but harmonious.
Across America and Asia (1870)
I have now to record a second visit to Yedo, when C. D. acted as guide and interpreter. Without the latter it is by no means easy to get on, as “Pidgin English” is of little use, even with domestic servants, in Japan, and none whatever with the general population. Some little knowledge of the language is therefore absolutely necessary for those who reside in the country, though mere visitors like ourselves find a very few words go a long way. Were we remaining here, I should think it no hardship to be obliged to learn Japanese; it is very easy, and a soft, musical language, not very unlike Italian in the pronunciation of some words.
Letters from China & Japan (1875)
I engaged a teacher and began the study of the language. The young Japanese who undertook to teach me this most difficult tongue, though naturally bright, had not only no philosophical knowledge of its structure, but he did not know one word in any other language. The instruction was obtained through the medium of an English-Chinese dictionary, the teacher taking the place of a Chinese-Japanese pronouncing lexicon. Progress thus made, though slow, was not always sure, and many were the words treasured up for use which had to be dropped when found to mean the very opposite of what I had supposed. After having carefully learned to read and write the Katakana alphabet of forty-nine letters, I was quite taken aback on finding that no books were printed in that character, and that there remained still the more difficult Hirakana alphabet, and the endless study of the Chinese character to be gone through with before I could hope to read anything beyond love-letters and novelettes.
Across America and Asia (1870)
We have already learned a few words of their language, such as i-ku-ra (“how much?”), arigato (“thank you”), yo-ro-shiu (“all right”), and others. But o-hay-o (“good-morning!”) has the clearest, most winning sound of all, and is the word we oftenest hear. “O-hay-o!” say the servants early in the morning; “O-hay-o!” call out the children in the streets; “O-hay-o de goza-i masu,” politely say the men and women we meet on the hillside and in the native city.
All this means simply “early,” but to us is something more than a mere salutation. And how strange it all seems to us! It is indeed o-hay-o—“good-morning”—with this people. For many centuries they have lived in seclusion, and in a state of somnolence with regard to the rest of the world. Ever following the same customs, with fashion of dress unchanged, they have pursued the same beaten track of national habit. But now they are just waking from their sleep; and stepping forth into the light of a new morning, they are pleasantly and happily saying to the world at large, “O-hay-o!”
The Sunrise Kingdom (1879)
The language itself discovers many peculiarities in the character of the people. It is syllabic, each syllable being distinctly pronounced. The distinctions of caste, and the relation of the speaker as a superior, inferior or equal of the person he addresses, are expressed by the use or omission of honorific prefixes and affixes. The humility, real or affected, professed by them is evinced by such expressions as “I reach it up to you” and “You reach it down to me,” as expressive of “your superiority” compared with “my inferiority;” and then they add to this the free use of the honorific O.
Another peculiarity of the Japanese character is clearly brought out in the polite phrases and circumlocutions by which a disagreeable conclusion is reached. Those who have lived in the country know well the meaning of “I have had a bad cold,” “My father is sick,” as an excuse for absence or neglect of duty.
Such expressions, and many other expletives or redundant phrases commonly used, they do not consider as falsehoods, because they are in such common use, and not intended to be taken literally. Thus, “It is poison to my soul that I could not do more for you,” and “I have made a great noise,” said on leaving the house one has been visiting, are expressions that no one would accept as other than simple courtesy. ...
Although there is no special depth to the spoken language, it is like music in its sweetness and rhythm. There are no harsh combinations of syllables, and the words flow easily from the lips even of little children. And their manners correspond with their language; for when they meet, they bow low, and with profuse external ceremonies combine the most polite forms of speech. They never offend one another in word, and politeness never fails them in any circumstance.
The Sunrise Kingdom (1879)
My brother did all the bargaining for us, as we knew no Japanese. It is an extremely difficult language, not in pronunciation, but in grammar and the arrangement of sentences. He, however, talks it fluently, and made the very best of guides throughout our tour.
Japan As We Saw It (Bickersteth) (1893)
The Japanese write, like the Chinese, in columns, from the top to the bottom of the paper, beginning at the right-hand side. The character is less fantastic and far more running than the Chinese. There is, indeed, not the slightest similarity between the languages, the one being monosyllabic and the other polysyllabic. The Japanese words are often of unconscionable length, but the sounds are musical, and not difficult to imitate; whereas the Chinese words, though of one syllable, consist generally of a gulp or a grunt, not attainable by those whose ears have not become thoroughly demoralised by a long residence in the country. We learnt more Japanese words in a week than we had of Chinese in a year; and in making a small rough vocabulary I found no difficulty in so allocating the letters of the English alphabet as to convey to my memory a fair representation of the sound I wished to recollect. In Chinese this is quite impossible.
Narrative of the Earl of Elgin’s Mission to China and Japan (1859)
It is a difficult task even for Japanese children to master their own language. There are forty-eight letters in the Japanese alphabet, and two distinct sets of characters, the ka-ta-ka-na and the hi-ra-ga-na. Besides these, Chinese characters are extensively used. Some books are written almost entirely in Chinese. The men among the higher classes all read this language, and even women and many of the lower orders are taught the particular characters most generally in use. All the signs about the shops and the proper names used are written in Chinese character, and we always see the same on lanterns and fans, and, indeed, upon almost everything that is used by the people.
The written language is entirely different from the spoken, so that it is almost like learning another language for a child to learn to read, even after it can talk with fluency. The words used in letter-writing differ both from the books and the colloquial, thus making another language for the children to learn; and if they do not, after all this is accomplished, attend the poetry-school, they cannot understand at all the poems of the country.
The Sunrise Kingdom (1879)
The large number of homonyms in the Japanese language gives rise to multitudes of riddles and puns, which help to make time pass merrily at social gatherings. There are indeed few books, either serious or gay, in which puns do not occur, and it is in a pretty play upon words that the chief beauty of a Japanese poem often lies.
The Land of the Morning (1882)
One fact which strikingly indicates the bent of the Japanese evil nature is, that the language teems with obscenity, while it does not contain a single profane oath.*
*The strongest maledictory expression is baka, a word which means little more than ‘fool.’
The Land of the Morning (1882)
In what form shall the Scripture first be given to the people? Will it not be best to put it in colloquial, so that all can read it? That is something easily decided: it will not; for that would lower the character of the translation. That being settled, what form of book language will it be best to use? Shall it be written with many Chinese characters and in high literary style, that it may please the scholars of the land? In that case the merchants, artisans and coolies, women and little children, will not be able to understand it at all. Shall it be written in very simple language, without the Chinese? Then all the great scholars will think it unworthy of notice. And while we believe that God “chooseth the foolish things of the world to confound the wise,” and while our hearts yearn toward the poor and lowly, we cannot, in the present state of the country, let a translation go out which will be utterly despised. Will it, then, be necessary to make two translations, one for the upper and one for the lower classes? This would involve great labor and expense, and it is not deemed expedient just now.
The best course to be pursued is to endeavor to give a translation that would so combine the various forms of book-language as to be generally intelligible and free from the charge, on the one hand, of being too vulgar, and, on the other hand, of being beyond the comprehension of the masses. The first translations will necessarily be imperfect, but they must be sent out and used until, in the years to come, the final accepted version shall be made. ...
Another difficulty arose in regard to the word to be used for “Deity”—whether it would be better to originate a new name for that purpose, or to take their own word, Kami (“Sintoo god”), and have them gradually learn to attach a new meaning to it. The latter was considered the better way. The heathen will soon learn that our God is not as their god.
The Sunrise Kingdom (1879)
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