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PALGRAVE SERIES IN ASIAN GERMAN STUDIES
Musical Entanglements
between Germany
and East Asia
Transnational Affinity in the
20th and 21st Centuries
Edited by Joanne Miyang Cho
Palgrave Series in Asian German Studies
Series Editors
Joanne Miyang Cho
William Paterson University of New Jersey
Wayne, NJ, USA
Douglas T. McGetchin
Florida Atlantic University
Boca Raton, FL, USA
This series contributes to the emerging field of Asian-German Studies by
bringing together cutting-edge scholarship from international scholars in
a variety of fields. It encourages the publication of works by specialists
globally on the multi-faceted dimensions of ties between the German-
speaking world (Germany, Austria, Switzerland, and German-speaking
enclaves in Eastern Europe) and Asian countries over the past two centu-
ries. Rejecting traditional notions of West and East as seeming polar oppo-
sites (e.g., colonizer and colonized), the volumes in this series attempt to
reconstruct the ways in which Germans and Asians have cooperated and
negotiated the challenge of modernity in various fields. The volumes cover
a range of topics that combine the perspectives of anthropology, compara-
tive religion, economics, geography, history, human rights, literature, phi-
losophy, politics, and more. For the first time, such publications offer
readers a unique look at the role that the German-speaking world and Asia
have played in developing what is today a unique relationship between two
of the world’s currently most vibrant political and economic regions.
ADVISORY BOARD:
Prof. Sebastian Conrad, Freie University of Berlin
Prof. Dorothy Figueira, University of Georgia
Prof. Doris Fischer, Würzburg University
Prof. Suzanne Marchand, Lousiana State University
Prof. Lee M. Roberts, Purdue University, Fort Wayne
Prof. Franziska Seraphim, Boston College
Musical
Entanglements
between Germany and
East Asia
Transnational Affinity in the 20th and 21st
Centuries
Editor
Joanne Miyang Cho
William Paterson University of New Jersey
Wayne, NJ, USA
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer
Nature Switzerland AG 2021
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the
Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of
translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on
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The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this
publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are
exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information
in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the
publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to
the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The
publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and
institutional affiliations.
Cover illustration: English: Gertud Eysoldt as Turandot; Alexander Moissi as Calaf. Photos
from the program book for Max Reinhardt’s 1911 production of Gozzi’s Turandot with
incidental music by Ferruccio Busoni.
This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature
Switzerland AG.
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
To Henrik Juho
Acknowledgements
vii
Contents
ix
x Contents
Index297
Notes on Contributors
xiii
xiv NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS
xvii
List of Tables
xix
CHAPTER 1
Western art music has found fertile soil in East Asia from the late nine-
teenth century to the present. From the perspective of the twenty-first
century, some scholars have noted East Asians’ dominant role in Western
art music. Sheila Melvin and Jindong Cai (2004) argue that classical music
is becoming “increasingly the turf of musicians from China.” They point
out that “so many of the world’s top composers and performers of classical
music are Chinese-born and educated.” The same goes for “many of the
rank-and-file orchestra musicians, music school professors, private violin
and piano teachers, and students.”1 Jürgen Osterhammel (2012) perceives
China as having reached an important milestone when it became “the big-
gest piano producer in the world,” as well as its having embarked upon
joint ventures with two prestigious piano manufacturers—Yamaha and
Steinway & Co.2 He also identifies the same enthusiasm for Western art
music among Koreans. Annually about 7000 South Korean instrumental-
ists and singers apply to German conservatories, nearly a third of whose
J. M. Cho (*)
William Paterson University of New Jersey, Wayne, NJ, USA
e-mail: choj@wpunj.edu
students originate from East Asia. Margaret Mehl (2013), in her history of
the Japanese adoption of Western music after the Meiji Restoration
(1868), shows that they frequently learned it “through their Western
(most often German or Austrian) teachers.”3 By the mid-twentieth cen-
tury, Japan’s appropriation was “so thorough” that “it had a dominant
position comparable to that in the countries of its origin.” Postwar Japan
also exported “musical instruments, sound technology and even musical
pedagogy,” such as the Suzuki method and Yamaha music schools. In
addition, many Japanese musicians perform with international orchestras
and teach at conservatories outside of Japan.4
Despite this high enthusiasm for Western art music among East Asians,
they did not initially embrace it for purely aesthetic reasons. Rather, the
nature of this adoption was closely connected to the political, social, and
diplomatic contexts in which it occurred. Western music was introduced
to China by “soldiers, merchants, and missionaries.” The first group that
brought Western music to China were the Jesuits, including Matteo Ricci,
in the sixteenth century. It was “spread more widely” after the British
defeat of China in the First Opium War. By the 1880s, Western bands
were a familiar sight in cities like Beijing.5 The Shanghai Public Band
(founded in 1879) expanded to become the Shanghai Symphony Orchestra
in 1907. In the case of Japan, the introduction of Western music was facili-
tated through the Meiji government’s “political, military, economic and
social reform.” Officials supported its adoption because of its perceived
ceremonial and pedagogical functions. They witnessed Western music
being used in ceremonies in the West to present “the power of the modern
nation-state” and contributing to “physical, moral and aesthetic education
in schools.”6 Similarly, the Korean emperor Gojong was persuaded of the
utility of Western-style military bands by a Korean delegate to Tsar
Nicholas II’s coronation celebrations in St. Petersburg in 1896. The del-
egate was particularly impressed by military music. In 1900, Korea hired
its first bandleader, the Prussian Franz Eckert, who had previously been
Japan’s first naval band leader for two decades. Eckert shaped both coun-
tries’ military bands after the Prussian model.7
Despite being located at opposite ends of the globe, Western-East
Asian musical relations have proven to be remarkably dynamic and endur-
ing; indeed one might even say that they are kindred spirits in the twenty-
first century. This introductory chapter explains this volume’s theoretical
framework, historiographical landscape, and organization. The first sec-
tion explores the idea of historical and musical entanglement. Just as
1 THE IDEA OF ENTANGLEMENT, HISTORIOGRAPHY, AND ORGANIZATION 3
One can find a good example of this kind of bi-directional cultural flow in
examining modern Japanese history. During the Meiji period, Japan
actively adopted European legal, military, scientific, and cultural ideas and
practices. Over the subsequent 150 years, however, the relationship
between Japan and the West has become increasingly bi-directional. After
Japan had achieved many technological innovations in its own right, and
realized a rate of economic growth higher than that of any European
country in the latter half of the twentieth century, it was no longer quite
so keen on learning from the West as it had been previously. As the histo-
rian Toru Takenaka points out, in the early twenty-first century Japan
believes that “its own social system functions as well as, and perhaps better
than, those of most European countries.” It now sees itself even as poten-
tially superior to Europe in certain respects and feels that other countries
could learn from its example.23
Finally, Jerry H. Bentley, who prefers the term “world history” to
“global history,” commends world historians who, without diminishing
6 J. M. CHO
became a Chinese culture icon and remained a durable part of Chinese life
for several decades.39 While Lan Yao’s work (2017) examines Western
music in China in the twentieth century, Tzu-Kuang Chen’s work (2006),
by contrast, probes Chinese cultural influences in Western music during
this same period.40 Over the last several years, several works focusing on
the musical lives of German-speaking refugee musicians in wartime
Shanghai have also appeared. One such monograph is Sophie Fetthauer’s
Musiker und Musikerinnen im Shanghaier Exil 1938–1949 (2021).41
With respect to recent monographs on Western-Korean musical con-
nections, one can specifically point to Okon Hwang’s Western Art Music
in South Korea (2009), which describes how Western art music became a
leading cultural force in South Korea.42 In so doing, it seeks to overcome
the hegemony of the East/West dichotomy. Choong-sik Ahn’s The Story
of Western Music in Korea (2005) examines the adoption of Western music
in Korea, its ubiquitous presence in radio and television programming,
concerts, and recitals, the large number of Korean music students at
Western conservatories, and so on.43 Hio-Jin Kim’s monograph (2000)
compares Korean and Western musical educational systems. One chapter
analyzes German musical education and reveals it as having been a para-
digm for music education in Korea.44 There are numerous dissertations on
the Korean-German composer Isang Yun, most of which discuss his work
as having synthesized Asian ideas and music techniques with Western
musical language.45
Regarding monographs on Western-Japanese musical connections,
Margaret Mehl’s (2014) thorough examination on the history of the vio-
lin in Japan is an important recent contribution to the field. It describes
how the Japanese completely assimilated a foreign musical tradition within
a relatively short period of time. The Suzuki method was developed in
Japan, and multiple Japanese violinists made their careers in the West on
“concert stages” or in “orchestras and conservatories.”46 Irene Suchy’s
dissertation analyzes the important contributions made by German and
Austrian musicians to Japanese music before 1945.47 It discusses both
German/Austrian musicians who were hired officially (e.g., Rudolf
Dittrich, Klaus Pringsheim) by the Meiji state and German/Austrian
musicians who were hired privately (e.g., Hans Remseger, Josef Laska).
Ury Eppstein’s The Beginnings of Western Music in Meiji Era Japan (1994)
examines the introduction of Western music into the educational system,
school songs and song books, in Meiji-era Japan.48 A section of Bonnie
C. Wade’s book discusses Japan’s enthusiastic reception of Western music
(2005).49
10 J. M. CHO
I will now examine the four edited volumes published in the last decade
in English that share some similarities with the present volume. These
volumes testify to the growing amount of research being done on Western-
East Asian musical connections. First, the edited volume by Christian Utz
and Frederick Lau, Vocal Music and Contemporary Identities (2013),
focuses on vocal music in Western-East Asian relations. While it covers the
twentieth and twentieth-first centuries, more attention is given to the
period since the 1950s.50 Chapters in this volume examine the human
voice and cultural identity from different angles—social, historical, aes-
thetical, technical, and so on. The volume’s primary focus is not musical or
cultural entanglement, however, since most chapters examine various vocal
traditions in East Asian and Western nations. In addition, it discusses not
only art music but also popular music and media art. Secondly, the edited
volume by Hee Sook Oh, Contemporary Music in East Asia (2014), exam-
ines contemporary East Asian music since the 1960s in Korea, Japan, and
China.51 Chapters in this volume show how Western music interacted with
each of these countries’ unique musical and historical traditions. They also
examine forms of creative bi-cultural hybridity in the compositions of sev-
eral leading East Asian composers from Korea (e.g., Hwang Byungki,
Unsuk Chin), Japan (e.g., Ryuichi Sakamoto, Masahiro Miwa, Toshio
Hosokawa), and China (e.g., Tan Dun, Chen Yi, Bright Sheng, Bunya Koh).
Third, the edited volume by Janz and Yang, Decentering Musical
Modernity (2019), as already discussed in the previous section, questions
the Weberian assumption of Europe’s unique or special development and
reframes European musical modernity within a global context. This vol-
ume focuses on “the issues of musical modernity and its history through
dialogues between scholarly communities from Europe and East Asia.”52
Notably, it includes analysis of music from less frequently mentioned
countries (Taiwan, Finland, and Sweden) and discusses not only art music
but also traditional music. Finally, the edited volume by Hon-Lun Yang
and Michael Saffle, China and the West (2017), in contrast to the three
previous volumes, deals with China exclusively. It does resemble the other
edited volumes, however, in its broad definition of the West (e.g., Austria,
the Netherlands, Belgium, the UK, Canada, the US), although Germany,
in a clear contrast to this present volume, is not treated. Moreover, it
addresses issues related to Chinese-American identity. Its focus is not lim-
ited to art music but also includes musical comedies, and it discusses a
number of cross-cultural topics such as exoticism, globalization, and
hybridization.
1 THE IDEA OF ENTANGLEMENT, HISTORIOGRAPHY, AND ORGANIZATION 11
Notes
1. Sheila Melvin and Jindong Cai, Rhapsody in Red. How Western Classical
Music Became Chinese (New York: Algora Publishing, 2004), 1.
2. Jürgen Osterhammel, “Globale Horizonte europäischer Kunstmusik,
1860–1930,” Geschichte und Gesellschaft 38, no. 1 (2012): 87–88.
3. Margaret Mehl, “Introduction. Western Art Music in Japan: A Success
Story?” Nineteenth-Century Music Review, 10 (2013): 215.
4. Ibid., 211.
5. Richard Curt Kraus, Pianos and Politics in China. Middle-Class Ambitions
and the Struggle over Western Music (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1989), 3–4.
6. Mehl, “Introduction,” 211.
7. Hans-Alexander Kneider, “Franz Eckert and Richard Wunsch: Two
Prussians in Korean Service,” in Transnational Encounters between
Germany and Korea. Affinity in Culture and Politics since the 1880s, ed.
Joanne Miyang Cho and Lee M. Roberts (New York: Palgrave Macmillan,
2018), 83–84.
8. Dipesh Chakrabarty, Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and
Historical Difference (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2008);
Tobias Janz and Chien-Chang Yang, “Introduction: Musicology, Musical
Modernity, and the Challenges of Entangled History,” in Decentering
Musical Modernity. Perspectives on East Asian and European Music History,
ed. Tobias Janz and Chien-Chang Yang (Bielefeld: Transcript, 2019).
9. Jerry H. Bentley, “Cultural Exchanges in World History,” in The Oxford
Handbook of World History, ed. Jerry H. Bentley (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2011), 345.
10. Charkrabarty, Provincializing Europe, 4. For a discussion on Chakrabarty,
see Joanne Miyang Cho, “Provincializing Albert Schweitzer’s Ethical
Colonialism in Africa,” The European Legacy: Toward New Paradigms 16,
no 1 (2011): 73–74.
11. Cho, “Provincializing Albert Schweitzer,” 73; see Chakrabarty,
Provincializing Europe, 22–23.
12. Chakrabarty, Provincializing Europe, 7.
13. Ibid.
14. Ibid., 8.
15. Ibid., 3–4, 42.
16. Ibid., 43.
17. Ibid., 4.
18. Peter Burke, Cultural Hybridity (Cambridge: Polity, 2009), 10–11.
19. Ibid., 40.
20. Ibid., 11.
1 THE IDEA OF ENTANGLEMENT, HISTORIOGRAPHY, AND ORGANIZATION 19
39. Melvin and Cai, Rhapsody in Red; Jindong Cai and Sheila Melvin, Beethoven
in China. How the great composer became an icon in the People’s Republic
(Melbourne: Penguin Books, 2015).
40. Lan Yao, Westliche Musik im modernen China 1900–2000: im Vergleich zur
chinesischen Musikkultur (Saarbrücken: AV Akademikerverlag, 2017);
Tzu-Kuang Chen, Chinesische Kultur in der westlichen Musik des 20.
Jahrhunderts: Modelle zur interkulturellen Musikpädagogik (Frankfurt am
Main: Peter Lang, 2006); Elizabeth Wetter, The Rise and Development of
Western Music in China (Saarbrücken: Akademiker Verlag, 2020).
41. Sophie Fetthauer, Musiker und Musikerinnen im Shanghaier Exil
1938–1949 (Neumünster: Rolf von Bockel Verlag, 2021).
42. Okon Hwang, Western Art Music in South Korea: Everyday Experience and
Cultural Critique (Saarbrücken; VDM Verlag Dr. Müller, 2009).
43. Choong-sik Ahn, The Story of Western Music in Korea: Social History,
1885–1950 (Morgan Hill, CA: EBooks and Books, 2005).
44. Hio-Jin Kim, Koreanische und westliche Musikerausbildung: historische
Rekonstruktion – Vergleich – Perspektiven (Marburg: Tectum, 2000).
45. Some examples of dissertations on Isang Yun include: Sonia Choy, “The
Fusion of Korean and Western Elements in Isang Yun’s Konzert für Flöte
und kleines Orchester (PhD diss., University of Georgia, 2004); Yong Su
Clark, “The Legacy and Influences of Isang Yun’s Musical Aesthetics”
(PhD diss., University of Maryland, College Park, 2018); Ko Eun Lee,
“Isang Yun’s Musical Bilingualism: Serial Technique and Korean Elements
in Fünf Stücke für Klavier (1958) and His Later Piano Works” (PhD diss.,
University of North Carolina at Greensboro, 2012); Cf. There are some
edited volumes that deal with Isang Yun. Hanns-Werner Heister and
Walter-Wolfgang Sparrer, eds. Der Komponist Isang Yun, zweiter, erweit-
erte Auflage (Munich: Ed. Text und Kritik, 1997); Hinrich Bergmeier, ed.,
Isang Yun, Festschrift zum 75. Geburtstag (Berlin: Bote & Bock, 1992);
Martin H. Schmitt, ed., Franz Eckert – Li Mirok – Yun Isang. Botschafter
fremder Kulturen. Deutschland-Korea (Oberursel/Ts.: Regardeur
III, 2010).
46. Margaret Mehl. Not by Love Alone. The Violin in Japan, 1850–2010
(Copenhagen: Sound Book Press, 2014)
47. Irene Suchy, “Deutschsprachige Musiker in Japan vor 1945: eine Fallstudie
eines Kulturtransfers am Beispiel der Rezeption abendländischer
Kunstmusik” (PhD diss., University of Vienna, 1992).
48. Ury Eppstein, The Beginnings of Western Music in Meiji Era Japan
(Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 1994).
49. Bonnie C. Wade, Music in Japan. Experiencing Music, Expressing Culture
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005)
1 THE IDEA OF ENTANGLEMENT, HISTORIOGRAPHY, AND ORGANIZATION 21
50. Christian Utz and Frederick Lau, eds., Vocal Music and Contemporary
Identities. Unlimited Voices in East Asia and the West. New York:
Routledge, 2013.
51. Hee Sook Oh, ed., Contemporary Music in East Asia (Seoul: Seoul National
University Press, 2014).
52. Janz and Yang, “Introduction,” 30.
Bibliography
Adam, Thomas. Intercultural Transfers and the Making of the Modern World:
Sources and Contexts. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012.
Ahn, Choong-sik. The Story of Western Music in Korea: Social History, 1885–1950.
Morgan Hill: EBooks and Books, 2005.
Bentley, Jerry H. “The Task of World History.” In The Oxford Handbook of World
History, edited by Jerry H. Bentley, 1–16. Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2011.
———. “Cultural Exchanges in World History.” In The Oxford Handbook of World
History, edited by Jerry H. Bentley, 343–60. Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2011.
Bergmeier, Hinrich, ed. Isang Yun, Festschrift zum 75. Geburtstag. Berlin: Bote &
Bock, 1992.
Burke, Peter. Cultural Hybridity. Cambridge: Polity, 2009.
Cai, Jindong, and Sheila Melvin. Beethoven in China. How the Great Composer
Became an Icon in the People’s Republic. Melbourne: Penguin Books, 2015.
Chakrabarty, Dipesh. Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical
Difference. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2008.
Chen, Tzu-Kuang. Chinesische Kultur in der westlichen Musik des 20. Jahrhunderts:
Modelle zur interkulturellen Musikpädagogik. Frankfurt am Main: Peter
Lang, 2006.
Cho, Joanne Miyang. “Provincializing Albert Schweitzer’s Ethical Colonialism in
Africa.” The European Legacy: Toward New Paradigms 16, no.1 (2011): 71–86.
———. “Historical Survey, Historiography, and Organization.” In German-East
Asian Encounters and Entanglement: Affinity in Culture and Politics since
1945, edited by Joanne Miyang Cho, 1–20. New York: Routledge, 2021.
Eppstein, Ury. The Beginnings of Western Music in Meiji Era Japan. Lewiston, NY:
Edwin Mellen Press, 1994.
Fetthauer, Sophie. Musiker und Musikerinnen im Shanghaier Exil 1938–1949.
Neumünster: Rolf von Bockel Verlag, 2021.
Heister, Hanns-Werner, and Walter-Wolfgang Sparrer, eds. Der Komponist Isang
Yun, zweiter, erweiterte Auflage. Munich: Ed. Text und Kritik. 1997.
Hwang, Okon. Western Art Music in South Korea: Everyday Experience and
Cultural Critique. Saarbrücken: VDM Verlag Dr. Müller, 2009.
22 J. M. CHO
German-Japanese/Korean
Entanglements, 1900–1945: Wagner,
Bandmasters, and Japanese Students
CHAPTER 2
Toru Takenaka
Shortly after the turn of the twentieth century, a wave of enthusiasm for
Richard Wagner engulfed young Japanese intellectuals.1 Renowned writ-
ers such as the poet Shimazaki Tōson (1872–1943), the novelist Nagai
Kafū (1879–1959), and the poet Ishikawa Takuboku (1886–1912), as
well as many university students, feverishly discussed the loftiness of his
music dramas and revered Wagner as a new cultural hero. As described by
a contemporary, many “began all of a sudden to praise Wagner’s music.”2
The boom was so intense and wide-ranging that one researcher speaks of
an “epidemic of Wagnerianism” that gripped Japanese intellectual circles.3
There was, however, something very peculiar about this boom: few of
these dedicated Wagnerians actually had firsthand experience with the
T. Takenaka (*)
NIAD-QE, Tokyo, Japan
Osaka University, Suita, Japan
e-mail: takenaka@niad.ac.jp
because “he, by creating the music dramas, perfected the sublime synthe-
sis of genres of art and tried to bring salvation to the masses.”6
Kondō and his comrades, who organized the association Waguneru
Kai (Wagner Club), were not content with passively appreciating Wagner’s
masterpieces. The student group instead took up the challenge of staging
a Wagnerian music drama themselves. Their plans, however, were overly
ambitious, and they were forced to change direction, eventually staging
Christoph Willibald Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice rather than their original
choice of Tannhäuser. Moreover, unable to muster an orchestra, their per-
formance was instead accompanied by a piano. Even so, they did success-
fully stage their opera in 1903, the first ever performance of its kind by
Japanese.
Interest in Wagner’s work was not confined to its performative ele-
ment but also addressed its theoretical foundations. A highly specialized
debate over Wagner’s compositional idiom, between the famous writer
Mori Ō gai (1862–1922), who had studied in Germany for four years in
the mid-1880s, and Ueda Bin (1874–1916), a linguistically talented
scholar of literature, had already taken place in 1896, with the two men
debating whether to align Wagner’s “endless melody” within the tradi-
tion of the recitative in Western opera. Notably, both opponents were
able to draw on extensive musicological knowledge in making their
respective arguments, referring to the Franco-Flemish School of the fif-
teenth century, Gluck, and Mozart, among others.7
Wagner’s music was thus received in Meiji Japan by a public fanbase
that was both intense and broadly diverse. In an age before music repro-
ductions were widely available, it may be surprising to see this kind of
collective enthusiasm for foreign music. In order to understand how this
happened, we should first examine the origins of the Wagner boom, which
can be traced to a series of journal articles published in 1902 by Anesaki
Chōfū, a scholar of religious studies. Anesaki was instantaneously capti-
vated by Wagner’s music drama while watching Rheingold one evening as
a student in Berlin. His enthusiasm grew as he became acquainted with the
other operas in the Ring des Niebelungen (The Ring of the Niebelung).
He expressed this exhilaration through a series of articles which were pub-
lished in the influential highbrow journal Taiyo ̄. His homage to Wagner
resonated with his readers, and the impact of his articles rippled through-
out Japanese intellectual circles, thus giving rise to the Wagner boom.8
This widespread enthusiasm is all the more mystifying because, aside
from a handful of individuals like Mori and Anesaki who had spent time
28 T. TAKENAKA
abroad, none of Wagner’s devotees had ever actually seen a live staging of
one of his operas, especially because no music drama had yet been staged
in turn-of-the-twentieth-century Japan. The infrastructure to stage such a
large-scale opera did not exist in Tokyo, which is understandable if we
remember that it had only been barely a half century since Western music
had been introduced to Japan following the country’s forced opening in
the mid-1850s. To be sure, Western tunes had indeed gained some ground
in Meiji society during Japan’s era of frantic modernization.9 Even so,
Japan still lacked operatic soloists and choral singers capable of tackling
Wagner’s difficult work, not to mention the stage artists and lighting tech-
nicians required for his music dramas. The orchestras of that time were, at
best, incomplete. Furthermore, there were no suitable venues in Tokyo at
the time. Nearly all of the capital’s theaters were built in the Japanese style,
where the audience sat on tatami mats rather than on chairs. Under these
circumstances, a staging of a music drama was out of the question.10
Hence, Meiji Wagnerians interested in a live performance of Wagner’s
music had to be content with orchestral excerpts or, as was more com-
monly the case, piano arrangements. The young Wagner-admirer Ishikawa,
who lived in a province distant from Tokyo, was most likely only familiar
with the piano arrangements of a few pieces by his hero. In short, most
Japanese Wagnerians did not actually know Wagner’s music.
One day, only a little more than a week after the arrival of the
strangers, a modest funeral wended its way through the narrow
streets of Gretna toward the ferry, and the passers stopped to stare
at Adraste Jozain, dressed in his best suit, sitting with much dignity
beside Dr. Debrot in the only carriage that followed the hearse.
“It’s a stranger, a relative of Madame Jozain,” said one who knew.
“She came from Texas with her little girl, less than two weeks ago,
and yesterday she died, and last night the child was taken down with
the same fever, and they say she’s unconscious to-day, so madame
couldn’t leave her to go to the funeral. No one will go to the house,
because that old doctor from the other side says it may be catching.”
That day the Bergeron tomb in the old St. Louis cemetery was
opened for the first time since Madame Jozain’s father was placed
there, and the lovely young widow was laid amongst those who were
neither kith nor kin.
When Raste returned from the funeral, he found his mother sitting
beside the child, who lay in the same heavy stupor that marked the
first days of the mother’s illness. The pretty golden hair was spread
over the pillow; under the dark lashes were deep violet shadows,
and the little cheeks glowed with the crimson hue of fever.
Madame was dressed in her best black gown, and she had been
weeping freely. At the sight of Raste in the door, she started up and
burst into heart-breaking sobs.
“Oh, mon cher, oh, mon ami, we are doomed. Was ever any one
so unfortunate? Was ever any one so punished for a good deed?
I’ve taken a sick stranger into my house, and nursed her as if she
were my own, and buried her in my family tomb, and now the child’s
taken down, and Doctor Debrot says it is a contagious fever, and we
may both take it and die. That’s what one gets in this world for trying
to do good!”
“Nonsense, mum, don’t look on the dark side; old Debrot don’t
know. I’m the one that gave it out that the fever was catching. I didn’t
want to have people prying about here, finding out everything. The
child’ll be better or worse in a few days, and then we’ll clear out from
this place, raise some money on the things, and start fresh
somewhere else.”
“Well,” said madame, wiping away her tears, much comforted by
Raste’s cheerful view of the situation, “no one can say that I haven’t
done my duty to the poor thing, and I mean to be kind to the child,
and nurse her through the fever whether it’s catching or not. It’s hard
to be tied to a sick bed this hot weather; but I’m almost thankful the
little thing’s taken down, and isn’t conscious, for it was dreadful to
see the way she mourned for her mother. Poor woman, she was so
young and pretty, and had such gentle ways. I wish I knew who she
was, especially now I’ve put her in the Bergeron tomb.”
CHAPTER VI
PEPSIE
E VERY one about that part of Good Children Street knew Pepsie.
She had been a cripple from infancy, and her mother, Madelon,
or “Bonnie Praline,” as she was called, was also quite a noted figure
in the neighborhood. They lived in a tiny, single cottage, wedged in
between the pharmacist, on the corner, and M. Fernandez, the
tobacconist, on the other side. There was a narrow green door, and
one long window, with an ornamental iron railing across it, through
which the interior of the little room was visible from the outside. It
was a very neat little place, and less ugly than one would expect it to
be. A huge four-post bed, with red tester and lace-covered pillows,
almost filled one side of the room; opposite the bed a small fireplace
was hung with pink paper, and the mantel over it was decorated with
a clock, two vases of bright paper flowers, a blue bottle, and a green
plaster parrot; a small armoire, a table above which hung a crucifix
and a highly colored lithograph of the Bleeding Heart, and a few
chairs completed the furniture of the quaint little interior; while the
floor, the doorsteps, and even the sidewalk were painted red with
powdered brick-dust, which harmonized very well with the faded
yellow stucco of the walls and the dingy green of the door and batten
shutter.
Behind this one little front room was a tiny kitchen and yard, where
Madelon made her pralines and cakes, and where Tite Souris, a half-
grown darky, instead of a “little mouse,” washed, cooked, and
scrubbed, and “waited on Miss Peps” during Madelon’s absence; for
Madelon was a merchant. She had a stand for cakes and pralines
upon Bourbon Street, near the French Opera House, and thither she
went every morning, with her basket and pans of fresh pralines,
sugared pecans, and calas tout chaud, a very tempting array of
dainties, which she was sure to dispose of before she returned at
night; while Pepsie, her only child, and the treasure of her life,
remained at home, sitting in her high chair by the window, behind the
iron railing.
And Pepsie sitting at her window was as much a part of the street
as were the queer little houses, the tiny shops, the old vegetable
woman, the cobbler on the banquette, the wine merchant, or the
grocer. Every one knew her: her long, sallow face with flashing dark
eyes, wide mouth with large white teeth, which were always visible in
a broad smile, and the shock of heavy black hair twisted into a quaint
knot on top of her head, which was abnormally large, and set close
to the narrow, distorted shoulders, were always visible, “from early
morn till dewy eve,” at the window; while her body below the
shoulders was quite hidden by a high table drawn forward over her
lap. On this table Pepsie shelled the pecans, placing them in three
separate piles, the perfect halves in one pile, those broken by
accident in another, and those slightly shriveled, and a little rancid, in
still another. The first were used to make the sugared pecans for
which Madelon was justly famous; the second to manufacture into
pralines, so good that they had given her the sobriquet of “Bonne
Praline”; and the third pile, which she disdained to use in her
business, nothing imperfect ever entering into her concoctions, were
swept into a box, and disposed of to merchants who had less
principle and less patronage.
All day long Pepsie sat her window, wielding her little iron
nutcracker with much dexterity. While the beautiful clean halves fell
nearly always unbroken on their especial pile, she saw everything
that went on in the street, her bright eyes flashed glances of
recognition up and down, her broad smile greeted in cordial welcome
those who stopped at her window to chat, and there was nearly
always some one at Pepsie’s window. She was so happy, so bright,
and so amiable that every one loved her, and she was the idol of all
the children in the neighborhood—not, however, because she was
liberal with pecans. Oh, no; with Pepsie, business was business, and
pecans cost money, and every ten sugared pecans meant a nickel
for her mother; but they loved to stand around the window, outside
the iron railing, and watch Pepsie at her work. They liked to see her
with her pile of nuts and bowl of foaming sugar before her. It seemed
like magic, the way she would sugar them, and stick them together,
and spread them out to dry on the clean white paper. She did it so
rapidly that her long white fingers fairly flashed between the bowl of
sugar, the pile of nuts, and the paper. And there always seemed just
enough of each, therefore her just discrimination was a constant
wonder.
When she finished her task, as she often did before dark, Tite
Souris took away the bowl and the tray of sugared nuts, after Pepsie
had counted them and put the number down in a little book, as much
to protect herself against Tite Souris’s depredations as to know the
exact amount of their stock in trade; then she would open the little
drawer in the table, and take out a prayer-book, a piece of
needlework, and a pack of cards.
She was very pious, and read her prayers several times a day;
after she put her prayer-book aside she usually devoted some time
to her needlework, for which she had real talent; then, when she
thought she had earned her recreation, she put away her work,
spread out her cards, and indulged in an intricate game of solitaire.
This was her passion; she was very systematic, and very
conscientious; but if she ever purloined any time from her duties, it
was that she might engage in that fascinating game. She decided
everything by it; whatever she wished to know, two games out of
three would give her the answer, for or against.
Sometimes she looked like a little witch during a wicked
incantation, as she hovered over the rows of cards, her face dark
and brooding, her long, thin fingers darting here and there, silent,
absorbed, almost breathless under the fatal spell of chance.
In this way she passed day after day, always industrious, always
contented, and always happy. She was very comfortable in her snug
little room, which was warm in winter and cool in summer, owing to
the two high buildings adjoining; and although she was a cripple, and
her lower limbs useless, she suffered little pain, unless she was
moved roughly, or jarred in some way; and no one could be more
carefully protected from discomfort than she was, for although she
was over twelve, Madelon still treated her as if she were a baby.
Every morning, before she left for the Rue Bourbon, she bathed and
dressed the girl, and lifted her tenderly, with her strong arms, into her
wheeled chair, where she drank her coffee, and ate her roll, as
dainty as a little princess, for she was always exquisitely clean. In
the summer she wore pretty little white sacks, with a bright bow of
ribbon at the neck, and in winter her shrunken figure was clothed in
warm, soft woolen.
Madelon did not sit out all day in rain and shine on Bourbon Street,
and make cakes and pralines half the night, for anything else but to
provide this crippled mite with every comfort. As I said before, the girl
was her idol, and she had toiled day and night to gratify her every
wish; and, as far as she knew, there was but one desire unsatisfied,
and for the accomplishment of that she was working and saving little
by little.
Once Pepsie had said that she would like to live in the country. All
she knew of the country was what she had read in books, and what
her mother, who had once seen the country, had told her. Often she
closed her eyes to shut out the hot, narrow street, and thought of
green valleys, with rivers running through them, and hills almost
touching the sky, and broad fields shaded by great trees, and
covered with waving grass and flowers. That was her one unrealized
ideal,—her “Carcassonne,” which she feared she was never to
reach, except in imagination.
CHAPTER VII
THE ARRIVAL
F ROM the first, madame had insisted that the stranger’s property
should not be meddled with until a certain time had passed.
“We must wait,” she said to the eager and impulsive Raste, “to see
if she is missed, and advertised for. A person of her position must
have friends somewhere, and it would be rather bad for us if she was
traced here, and it was found out that she died in our house; we
might even be suspected of killing her to get her money. Detectives
are capable of anything, and it isn’t best to get in their clutches; but if
we don’t touch her things, they can’t accuse us, and Dr. Debrot
knows she died of fever, so I would be considered a kind-hearted
Christian woman, and I’d be paid well for all my trouble, if it should
come out that she died here.”
These arguments had their weight with Raste, who, though
thoroughly unscrupulous, was careful about getting into the toils of
the law, his father’s fate serving as an example to him of the difficulty
of escaping from those toils when they once close upon a victim.
If at that time they had noticed the advertisement in the journals
signed “Blue Heron” it would have given them a terrible fright; but
they seldom read the papers, and before they thought of looking for
a notice of the missing woman and child, it had been withdrawn.
For several weeks Raste went regular to the grocery on the levee,
and searched over the daily papers until his eyes ached; but in vain;
among all the singular advertisements and “personals,” there was
nothing that referred in any way to the subject that interested him.
Therefore, after some six weeks had passed, madame deemed
that it was safe to begin to cover her tracks, as Raste had advised
with more force than elegance. The first thing to do was to move into
another neighborhood; for that reason, she selected the house in
Good Children Street, it being as far away from her present
residence as she could possibly get, without leaving the city
altogether.
At first she was tempted to give up work, and live like a lady for a
while; then she considered that her sudden wealth might arouse
suspicion, and she decided to carry on her present business, with
the addition of a small stock of fancy articles to sell on which she
could make a snug little profit, and at the same time give greater
importance and respectability to her humble calling.
Among the dead woman’s effects was the pocket-book, containing
five hundred dollars, which she had secreted from Raste. From the
money in the traveling bag she had paid the humble funeral
expenses, and Dr. Debrot’s modest bill, and there still remained
some for other demands; but besides the money there were many
valuables, the silver toilet articles, jewelry, laces, embroideries, and
the handsome wardrobe of both mother and child. In one of the
trunks she found a writing-case full of letters written in English. From
these letters she could have learned all that it was necessary to
know; but she could not read English readily, especially writing; she
was afraid to show them, and she feared to keep them; therefore she
thought it best to destroy them. So one night, when she was alone,
she burned them all in the kitchen stove; not, however, without some
misgivings and some qualms of conscience, for at the moment when
she saw them crumbling to white ashes the gentle face of the dead
woman seemed to come before her, and her blue eyes to look at her
sadly and reproachfully.
Then she thought of Father Ducros, so stern and severe; he had
but little mercy or charity for those who sinned deliberately and
wilfully, as she was doing. She would never dare to go to him, and
what would become of her soul? Already she was beginning to feel
that the way of the transgressor is hard; but she silenced the striving
of conscience with specious arguments. She had not sought the
temptation,—it had come to her, in the form of a dying woman; she
had done her best by her, and now the child was thrown on her and
must be cared for. She did not know the child’s name, so she could
not restore her to her friends, even if she had any; it was not likely
that she had, or they would have advertised for her; and she meant
to be good to the little thing. She would take care of her, and bring
her up well. She would be a daughter to her. Surely that was better
than sending her to a home for foundlings, as another would do. In
this way she persuaded herself that she was really an honest,
charitable woman, who was doing what was best for the child by
appropriating her mother’s property, and destroying every proof of
her identity.
From the child’s wardrobe she selected the plainest and most
useful articles for daily wear, laying aside the finest and daintiest to
dispose of as her business might offer opportunity; and from the
mother’s clothes she also made a selection, taking for her own use
what she considered plain enough to wear with propriety, while the
beautiful linen, fine laces, and pretty little trifles went a long way in
furnishing her show-window handsomely.
Notwithstanding her assurance, she felt some misgivings when
she placed those pretty, dainty articles in the broad light of day
before an observing public,—and not only the public terrified her, but
the child also; suppose she should recognize her mother’s property,
and make a scene. Therefore it was with no little anxiety that she
waited the first morning for Lady Jane’s appearance in the little shop.
After a while she came in, heavy-edged, pale, listless, and
carelessly dressed, her long silken hair uncombed, her little feet and
legs bare, and her whole manner that of a sorrowful, neglected child.
She carried her bird in her arms, as usual, and was passing out of
the side-door to the little yard, without as much as a glance, when
madame, who was watching her furtively, said to her in rather a
fretful tone:
“Come here, child, and let me button your clothes. And you haven’t
brushed your hair; now this won’t do; you’re old enough to dress
yourself, and you must do it; I can’t wait on you every minute, I’ve
got something else to do.” Then she asked in a softer tone, while she
smoothed the golden hair, “See my pretty window. Don’t you think it
looks very handsome?”
Lady Jane turned her heavy eyes toward the laces and fluttering
things above her, then they slowly fell to the table, and suddenly,
with a piercing cry, she seized a little jewel-box, an odd, pretty silver
trinket that madame had displayed among her small wares, and
exclaimed passionately: “That’s my mama’s; it’s mama’s, and you
sha’n’t have it,” and turning, she rushed into madame’s room,
leaving Tony to flutter from her arms, while she held the little box
tightly clasped to her bosom.
Madame did not notice her outbreak, neither did she attempt to
take the box from her, so she carried it about with her all day; but at
night, after the little one had fallen asleep, madame unclosed the
fingers that still clung to it, and without a pang consigned it to
obscurity.
“I mustn’t let her see that again,” she said to herself. “Dear me,
what should I do, if she should act like that before a customer? I’ll
never feel safe until everything is sold, and out of the way.”
“Well, I declare, if that isn’t the fifth customer Madame Jozain has
had this morning,” said Pepsie to Tite Souris, a few days after the
new arrival. “She must be doing a good business, for they all buy; at
least they all come out with paper parcels.”
“An’ jes’ see dem chil’ren crowd ’roun’ dat do. Lor’, dey doant cum
ter yer winner eny mo’, Miss Peps’,” said Tite, with an accent of
disgust, as she brushed the pecan-shells from Pepsie’s table. “Dey
jes stan’ ober dar ter git a glimge uv dat dar goslin’ de littl’ gal holes
all day. Po chile! she might’ lunsum, setten dar all ’lone.”
“Tite, oh, Tite, can’t you coax her across the street? I want to see
her near,” cried Pepsie eagerly; “I want to see what kind of a bird that
is.”
“Dem chil’ren say how it’s a herin’. I doant believe dat—hit ain’t no
ways lak dem herin’s in de sto, what dey has in pickl’. Sho! dat ain’t
no herin’, hit’s a goslin’; I’se done see goslin’s on de plantashun, an’
hit’s a goslin’, shore nuff.”
“Well, I want to see for myself, Tite. Go there to the fence, and ask
her to come here; tell her I’ll give her some pecans.”
Tite went on her mission, and lingered so long, staring with the
others, that her mistress had to call her back. She returned alone.
Lady Jane declined to accept the invitation.
“’T ain’t no use,” said Tite energetically. “She wunt cum. She on’
hugs dat dar long-legged bird, an’ looks at yer solum, lak a owel; ’t
ain’t no use, she wunt cum. She might’ stuck up, Miss Peps’. She
say she doan’t want peccuns. Ain’t dat cur’ous? Oh, Lor, doan’t want
peccuns! Well, white chil’ren is der beatenes’ chil’ren!’ and Tite went
to her work, muttering her surprise at the “cur-ousness” of white
children in general, and Lady Jane in particular.
All day long Pepsie watched, hoping that the little girl might
change her mind, and decide to be more neighborly; but she was
doomed to disappointment. Near night, feeling that it was useless to
hope, and noticing that madame’s customers were dropping off, she
sought consolation in a game of solitaire.
Just as she was at the most exciting point, a slight rustling sound
attracted her attention, and, looking up, she saw a little figure in a
soiled white frock, with long yellow hair falling over her shoulders,
and a thick, neglected bang almost touching her eyebrows. The little
face was pale and sorrowful; but a faint smile dimpled the lips, and
the eyes were bright and earnest. Lady Jane was holding the bird up
in both hands over the iron railing, and when she caught Pepsie’s
surprised glance she said very politely and very sweetly:
“Would you like to see Tony?”
And that was the way in which Lady Jane and Pepsie first became
acquainted.
CHAPTER IX
THE FIRST VISIT TO PEPSIE