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Title: The Spell of Japan
Author: Isabel Anderson
Release Date: December 28, 2012 [EBook #41722]
Language: English
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THE SPELL OF JAPAN
THE SPELL SERIES
[Illustration]
_Each volume with one or more colored plates and many
illustrations from original drawings or special photographs.
Octavo, with decorative cover, gilt top, boxed._
_Per volume $2.50 net, carriage paid $2.70_
[Illustration]
THE SPELL OF ITALY
By Caroline Atwater Mason
THE SPELL OF FRANCE
By Caroline Atwater Mason
THE SPELL OF ENGLAND
By Julia de W. Addison
THE SPELL OF HOLLAND
By Burton E. Stevenson
THE SPELL OF SWITZERLAND
By Nathan Haskell Dole
THE SPELL OF THE ITALIAN LAKES
By William D. McCrackan
THE SPELL OF TYROL
By William D. McCrackan
THE SPELL OF JAPAN
By Isabel Anderson
THE SPELL OF SPAIN
By Keith Clark
[Illustration]
THE PAGE COMPANY
53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass.
[Illustration: _Court and Gate, Shiba Park, Tokyo_
(_See page 60_)]
_The_ SPELL _of_
JAPAN
_BY_
_Isabel Anderson_
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATED
Boston
THE PAGE COMPANY
MDCCCCXIV
_Copyright, 1914._
BY THE PAGE COMPANY
_All rights reserved_
First Impression, July, 1914
THE COLONIAL PRESS
C. H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.
TO THE MEMORY OF
_MY FATHER_
WHO WAS THE FIRST TO TELL ME OF
THE LAND OF THE MILLION SWORDS
JAPANESE PRONUNCIATION
In general, single vowels have the same sounds as in the Continental
pronunciation of Latin. The diphthong _ai_ is like _i_ in fight; _ei_
like _a_ in gate; _au_ like _ou_ in bough. The consonants are sounded as
in English, except that _g_ is always hard and in the middle of a word
is like a prolonged and very nasal _ng_; and _z_ before _u_ is the
equivalent of _dz_. When consonants are doubled, both are distinctly
enunciated. Syllables are pronounced lightly and with nearly uniform
accent as in French, but vowels marked long are carefully lengthened.
INTRODUCTION
The term "Spell," as applied to a series of books treating of various
countries seems instantly to conjure up before the vision the most
romantic and attractive episodes in their history, the most picturesque
and fascinating aspects of their geography, the most alluring qualities
of their inhabitants. Under this ample and elastic term, Romance has
been able to weave its iridescent glamour, if possible enhancing the
charm of the reality, like a delicate veil over a mountain view.
The fortunate authors have been enabled to take journeys as it were on
Solomon's magic carpet, the aerial vehicle of the Imagination, and to
depict ideal conditions based nevertheless on solid foundations of
Truth.
Occasionally Fate seems to idealize reality: a novelist could hardly
conceive a more fortunate setting for a romance than the Court of an
Oriental Potentate, or find a happier source of vivid experiences than
would spring from the position of an open-eyed American woman suddenly
transported to such a scene as the wife of an ambassador sent to some
exotic Empire. Fiction in such a case is transcended by actual fact and
there would be no need of inventing opportunities of inner observation:
every door would stand open and the country would be revealed in its
highest perfection.
In this respect Mrs. Anderson's "Spell of Japan" differs perhaps from
most of its predecessors in the series of "Spell" books. Her husband was
appointed by President Taft in 1912 Ambassador Extraordinary and
Minister Plenipotentiary to the Court of His Majesty the Mikado, and the
whole time of their sojourn in Dai Nippon was filled with experiences
seldom vouchsafed to foreigners. They witnessed functions to which they
were admitted only because of their official position; they were granted
every facility for seeing aspects of Japanese life which ordinary
visitors would have infallibly missed, and they became acquainted with
the very flower of Japanese civilization.
Mrs. Anderson took copious notes and she has utilized these in the
preparation of her most delightful and illuminating volume. It is so
naturally and unostentatiously written that one almost forgets to be
amazed at the intimacy of the pictures: one enters the Imperial palaces
and attends Court functions as simply as one would go to an afternoon
tea at home. Then perhaps suddenly comes the realization of what a
privilege it is to be admitted to see through her keenly observant eyes
the penetralia so jealously hidden from the general throng.
The book therefore is rightly entitled to carry the title of Spell, for
it shows Japan at its very best; it makes one understand the glamour
which the courteous manners, the elaborate customs, the harmonious
costumes, the perfect Art everywhere displayed, cast over all those who
have been fortunate enough to visit the Land of the Rising Sun.
Mrs. Anderson's book cannot fail to serve as a new and important tie of
friendship between the United States and Japan; it will be hailed as an
eminently fair presentation of Japanese ideals, and will from its
authoritative accuracy and its admirable spirit give great pleasure to
all in the best circles of the Empire and serve to do away with many
prejudices which ignorance has disseminated among our own people. It
could not have breathed a more conciliatory and friendly spirit, and its
simple and engaging style cannot fail to win golden opinions for its
talented author.
NATHAN HASKELL DOLE.
FOREWORD
My recent residence in Japan, when we lived in the Embassy in Tokyo, has
served only to enhance the Spell which that country has cast over me
since I first crossed the Pacific, sixteen years ago. What beautiful
summer evenings were those on the Southern Seas, when the moon was full!
As we sat in the bow of the _Doric_ and sang to the music of the
_eukalalie_,[1] we gazed into the water glistening with phosphorescence.
The mornings found us there again, listening to the swish of the waves
as the boat slowly rose and sank on the long Pacific swell. We watched
the flying-fish, and the schools of leaping porpoise, and the tropical
birds with their long white tail-feathers sailing in the blue sky.
[1] Hawaiian guitar.
The excitements and interests on the steamer were many and varied. On
Sunday, while Christians were singing hymns, Chinese and Jews gambled at
fan-tan, Filipinos and Japanese wrestled on the steerage deck, and
Chinese and Hindus knifed each other. Among the passengers were
missionaries with large families, and wayward sons shipped to the East;
in a single group we saw an opium smuggler, a card sharp, and the
ever-present commercial traveller.
As we neared Japan a huge turtle floating on the smooth surface of the
water appeared to have come out expressly to greet us and wish us long
life and happiness, for that is what he represents to the Japanese. We
are grateful to him, for it is true he was a good omen; we were on our
honeymoon, and Japan cast its Spell about us then and still holds us in
its toils, for we have returned again, and yet again.
As Japan consists of five hundred and eighteen islands it is often
called the Island Empire. In the days of mythology and legend it was
named The Country in the Midst of the Luxuriant Reed Plains; later it
was The Mountain Portal, while during the Middle Ages the Chinese called
it The Source of the Sun, or The Land of the Rising Sun--Hinomoto.
Finally it became Nippon Dai Nippon--Great Japan. But it has still other
names, such as The Land of the Gods, The Land of a Million Swords, The
Land of the Cherry Blossoms, and The Land Between Heaven and Earth.
Notwithstanding the changes of recent years, the picturesque and
enchanting Old Japan that men of letters have written about so
delightfully still survives in many ways. The enormous bronze Buddha at
Kamakura sits calmly looking down upon us, as always. At Nikko the
avenue of cryptomerias is still wonderfully fine, while the huge blocks
of stone in the long flights of steps on the wooded mountain-side bring
up a vision of the armies of coolies who placed them there to remain
through the ages. The bronze tombs are the same, only more beautifully
coloured with age, and the wood-carving and lacquers of the glorious old
temples have been kept bright and new by faithful, loving hands. The
Inland Sea is just as mysterious and ever-changing, while Fuji is
worshipped to-day as it has been since the beginning of all time.
So much has been written--and well written--about Old Japan, that in the
language of the Japanese, "The Rustic and Stupid Wife is loth to give to
the Honourable and Wise Reader these few poor notes." It is not so much
of Old Japan that I will write, however, but rather of New Japan, of
social and diplomatic life, of present-day education, of motor trips,
and politics, of bear-hunting among the Ainus, and of cruising in the
Inland Sea.
Notwithstanding our four visits to Japan, on all of which we kept
journals, I wish to say that I have begged, borrowed or stolen material
from travelling companions and others; I desire to acknowledge my
special indebtedness to Mr. C. J. Arnell, of the American Embassy, who
kindly contributed the chapter on bear-hunting, to Major Gosman, also of
the Embassy Staff, who gave me notes on motoring, to Mrs. Lucie
Chandler, who allowed me to use her conclusions in regard to education
and missionaries, to Miss Hyde for the loan of her charming wood-cut,
and to the _Japan Magazine_. Much of my information, besides, came from
my husband's journals. I wish also to thank Miss C. Gilman and Miss K.
Crosby, who have done so much to help me in getting this book together.
I. A.
WELD, BROOKLINE,
March First,
1914.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
INTRODUCTION vii
FOREWORD xi
I. OUTLYING JAPAN 1
II. HISTORIC KYOTO 23
III. FIRST DAYS AT THE EMBASSY 40
IV. COURT FUNCTIONS 64
V. LIFE IN TOKYO 90
VI. THE GROWING EMPIRE 112
VII. A YEAR OF FESTIVALS 136
VIII. CULTS AND SHRINES 164
IX. NEW LIGHT FOR OLD 188
X. PROSE, POETRY AND PLAYS 214
XI. AMUSEMENTS 245
XII. BEAR-HUNTING AMONG THE AINUS 274
XIII. MOTORING AND CRUISING 293
XIV. FLOWERS, INDOORS AND OUT 326
XV. THE ARTIST'S JAPAN 350
XVI. SAYONARA DAI NIPPON 375
BIBLIOGRAPHY 383
INDEX 385
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
COURT AND GATE, SHIBA PARK, TOKYO (_in full colour_)
(_see page 60_) _Frontispiece_
MAP OF JAPAN _facing_ 1
A KOREAN COUPLE 8
A VIEW OF SEOUL 10
THE AMERICAN CONSULATE, SEOUL 16
"WE PASSED ... STRANGELY LADEN HORSES" 23
THE TOMB OF MUTSUHITO 25
THE FUNERAL CORTEGE 27
HIDEYOSHI'S HOUSE AND GARDEN 29
THE AMERICAN EMBASSY, TOKYO 42
JAPANESE SERVANTS 46
"SECRET"--WOOD-CUT BY MISS HYDE 51
SHIBA PARK, TOKYO 60
THE COACHMAN AND THE _BETTO_ OF THE AMERICAN
EMBASSY 65
THE MOATS, IMPERIAL CASTLE, TOKYO 67
THE LATE EMPEROR 80
"LITTLE GIRLS WITH LITTLER GIRLS ON THEIR BACKS"
(_in full colour_) 110
A RICE FIELD 130
DISPLAY OF DOLLS, DOLLS' FESTIVAL 147
DISPLAY OF ARMOUR AND TOYS, BOYS' FESTIVAL 153
GRAND SHRINE OF ISE 167
LACQUER WORK (_in full colour_) 175
EASTERN HONGWANJI TEMPLE, KYOTO 177
THE HONDEN, IYEYASU, NIKKO 180
OFF MIYAJIMA 183
MISS TSUDA'S SCHOOL, TOKYO 195
RED CROSS HOSPITAL BUILDINGS 206
ARMOUR AND WEAPONS OF ANCIENT WARRIORS 223
A JAPANESE STAGE 242
GEISHA GIRLS AT THE ICHIRIKI TEA-HOUSE, KYOTO 246
AN ACTOR OF THE PRESENT DAY 254
MR. ARNELL AND MR. ARNOLD IN A JAPANESE PLAY 260
A WRESTLER 265
THE _NO_ DANCE 271
THE HUNTING PARTY 274
MR. ARNELL AND AINUS 286
_KAGOS_ (SEDAN-CHAIRS) FOR MOUNTAIN CLIMBS 293
THE BUDDHA OF KAMAKURA 297
FUJI FROM OTOME-TOGE (_in full colour_) 302
"LOOKED WISELY AT SOME PRESENTS WHICH WE HAD
FOR HIM" 306
THE WONDERFUL AVENUE OF CRYPTOMERIAS 310
LAKE BIWA 314
AMA-NO-HASHIDATE 316
ANCIENT TEMPLE NEAR NARA 318
A VIEW OF MATSUSHIMA 320
JAPANESE JUNKS 322
THE GREAT _TORII_ 323
A JAPANESE FLOWER MAN (_in full colour_) 330
_IKE-BANA_ OR FLOWER ARRANGEMENT 336
"THE TABLE DECORATIONS ... ARE ESPECIALLY INTERESTING" 339
A JAPANESE GARDEN, TOKYO (_in full colour_) 342
A CARVED PANEL 353
THE CASTLE OF HIMEJI 355
VIEW OF MOUNT FUJIYAMA--PRINT BY HOKUSAI 364
THE LITTLE APES OF NIKKO 379
[Illustration: JAPAN
MAIN ISLANDS.]
THE
SPELL OF JAPAN
CHAPTER I
OUTLYING JAPAN
Our last sight of Brussels, when we left it in early December, was a row
of people, among whom was the Japanese Minister, waving good-bye to us
at the Gare du Nord.
We were starting for the Far East, for my husband had been transferred
from his post in Belgium to that of Ambassador to Japan. This promotion
was very pleasing to us, for Eastern questions were vital, we liked the
Japanese people, and no country could have been more interesting to us
than the Land of the Cherry Blossoms. It was our fourth visit to the
Orient, and, strange though it may seem, when we reached Korea, the
"jumping-off place," we said to ourselves that we began to feel at home.
A quick run across Germany and Russia brought us to Moscow, where
the great Chinese walls reminded us that we had reached an outpost
of the Occident, a city which had once been occupied by the Mongols.
When the Siberian Express pulled out of the station, we felt that we
had really said farewell to Europe and our faces were turned toward
the East. We crossed the vast plains of eastern Russia and western
Siberia--monotonous expanses of white, only relieved by the Ural
Mountains, which at the southern extremity of the range, where the
railroad passes over them, are not really mountains at all, but hills.
Beyond the Obi River we rose from the level steppe to the foot-hills of
the Altai Mountains, a forest region interspersed with open stretches of
good farming land--a country so much like our own West that it is
sometimes called "the new America." We passed immigrant trains filled
with Russian peasants, and the old road over which the exiles used to
march before the railroad was built, and saw cars with barred windows,
like those of prisons, in which convicts are transported.
The thermometer went down, down, as far as forty degrees below zero, but
the cars on the Trans-Siberian were kept as warm as the tropics. The
drifts grew deeper, and there were days and nights of endless snow. In
the hilly country around Lake Baikal we saw some fine scenery. Low hills
and high cliffs covered with larches border its eastern and western
shores, but to the southward, a huge mountain wall, lofty and snow-clad
as our Californian Sierras, closes in around the lake.
In comparison with our fast American trains this "express" moved so
slowly that we feared we should be old, grey-haired men and women before
reaching the end of the journey. It was a welcome sight when Kharbin at
last appeared, and we knew we were nearing Manchuria. Most Siberian
towns that we had seen consisted of low wooden buildings, but Kharbin
contains many substantial brick structures.
It is supposed to be nine days from Moscow to Kharbin, and fourteen days
from London to Tokyo direct, via Vladivostok. We were eighteen days from
Brussels to Kyoto, but we stopped off at Seoul. Our route was through
Korea, which, as everybody knows, is now a Japanese colony, because my
husband wished to see it on his way to his new post. Passengers for
Vladivostok left the train at Kharbin, but we were to continue on
southward toward Changchun, where we expected to find Osame Komori, a
Japanese whom we had known for many years, and who was to be my
husband's interpreter.
We had already received the following letter from Osame:
"DEAR EXCELLENCY:
"My honourable sir, allow me the liberty presenting you this
letter. I meet you Changchun. My gratitude is higher than Fuji
and sacred as the Temple of Ise. Your kindness to me is as deep
as the Pacific Ocean. Your letter was like sunshine in my life,
your news gave me the life from death.... I am total wreck by
fire. We had storms lately turning the beautiful Fuji like
silver capped mountain, but grain still presents carpets of red
and yellow. About gold lacquer you write. I made several enquiry
when it will be accomplished. I kick Y. urgently to finish
it.... My baby has grown well and often repeat the honour of
your last visit.
"Best wishes I remain,
"YOUR FAITHFUL SERVANT."
Osame was better than his word, for he met us at Kharbin instead of
Changchun, bringing with him supplies of various sorts, which he thought
might be acceptable.
After leaving Kharbin we passed through Manchuria, a flat and
low-rolling country, in places somewhat roughened, where streams have
cut their way. The black earth is carefully cultivated as far as the eye
can see, and at this season it was all in furrow. Little primitive carts
with shaggy ponies crossed the landscape, laden with bags of the bean
which is the great product of this section. Every now and then we passed
small fortified guardhouses of stone and brick, with the sentry at his
post, for protection against the brigands who sweep down from the
mountains and try to carry off even parts of the railway.
At Changchun we were assured that the Japanese Government wished us to
be its guests, and we found compartments reserved for us on the Pullman
train. From this point we were escorted by Japanese officials, who were
sent to meet us and give us all the information we could ask about the
country. They told us with bows that the train would be run on a faster
schedule than usual in our honour, and sure enough, we soon were
speeding over the excellent road-bed at a good rate.
As we went on, the snow began to disappear, and the sharp mountains of
Korea came in sight, with little villages tucked away in the ravines.
For Chosen, the Land of Morning Calm, as it is always called in Japan,
is a country of mountains. Granite peaks, deep gorges and fertile
valleys are everywhere in the interior, and the rugged, irregular
eastern coastline, of which we had a glimpse in crossing to Japan, winds
in and out around the base of the ranges. Among the hills and groves
that we passed were the mounds of buried ancestors. We were much
impressed by the sturdy, well set-up appearance of the Japanese soldiers
along the route, and the military bearing of their officers.
Here live the bear and deer, and the long-haired Korean tiger, so
well-known to sportsmen. Foreign sportsmen are free to hunt among these
hills wherever they will and they find it a strange sensation to watch
for tigers on ridges from which they can look down on the thatched roofs
of small villages, or to hear at night from their tent in the village
the cough of the tiger seeking his prey on the hills. The wild pigs and
hog deer, startled by this cough, flee in blind terror, and are seized
by the tiger as they dash past him. In every village a hornblower is on
the watch at night, and when he sounds his horn, all the people beat
their tiger alarms of tin pans to drive the animal away.
The Korean peasants eat the meat and drink the blood of a slain tiger in
the belief that this will render them brave and strong. They make an
all-powerful medicine from the long white whiskers, and use the tiny
collar-bones as charms to protect them from any devils they chance to
meet.
Although it was winter, both men and women were dressed in white cotton,
which looked rather startling after the dark costumes of the Chinese and
the fur coats of the Russians. White used to be the badge of mourning in
Korea, but now it is the national costume. Various stories are told to
account for its adoption. According to one of these, in the early part
of the nineteenth century three kings died in close succession, and as
every one was obliged to wear mourning for three years after the death
of a ruler, at the end of this period all the dyers had become
discouraged and given up their business, and so white became the dress
of the people. Now, when the men are in real mourning, they wear huge
straw hats, and do not think it proper to speak.
Although white is still the national costume, the Emperor, some years
ago, published an edict giving his subjects permission to wear other
colours. The nobles wear a number of coats of the finest cream-coloured
silk lawn, over which there may be an outer garment of blue. The white
garments impose a needless burden upon the women of the lower classes,
who are incessantly engaged in laundry work. The coats are ripped to
pieces and washed in some stream, where they are pounded on stones, then
after they are dry are placed on wooden cylinders and beaten with sticks
until the white cotton has taken on the sheen of dull satin.
Korean men wear curious little open-work hats of black horsehair, which
make them look very tall and slight and give them a dudish appearance.
They present an especially funny picture when riding a bullock. The
women, on the contrary, are wound about in white cotton to such an
extent that they look rather Turkish, and they waddle as if bow-legged.
Many of them are comical in green silk coats, with which they cover
their heads without putting their arms into the sleeves. They were
allowed to wear these garments as a badge of honour for their bravery in
battle, or, as some say, that they might be ready at a moment's notice
to change them into soldiers' coats.
[Illustration: A KOREAN COUPLE.]
It is said that the broad-brimmed hat sometimes worn by the men
originated, several centuries ago, in the efforts of one of the emperors
to put a stop to drunkenness. He decreed that all the men should have a
light earthen-ware hat of the shape worn to-day, which was never to be
taken off, except when they were lying down. The head was protected
against the hard surface of this covering by a light padded cap beneath.
As the rooms of Korean houses are small, not more than four men could be
seated in one, if they had this peculiar headgear. When any one was
found to have a broken hat, it was taken for granted that he had been in
some drunken brawl, and he received the prescribed punishment.
On our arrival in Seoul, we were met by Japanese officials, and were
also greeted by our Consul-General, Mr. Scidmore.
Seoul is charmingly situated in a valley surrounded by beautiful
white-capped mountains, over which wanders the high wall that encloses
the city. The old entrance gates are massive structures--great
foundations of stone with arches cut through them, on which rise the
double recurving roofs of tile. The old town with its narrow alleys and
its filth has well-nigh disappeared. Under Japanese administration, the
gates are no longer closed at night, for there is police protection, and
parts of the city are lighted by electricity. The new streets are wide,
clean and well drained. Although Korea is called the Hermit Kingdom, and
said to be many years behind Japan, there are telegraph lines, electric
cars, bicycles, even one or two motors, brick houses and a Railway
Station Hotel. The Japanese portion of the town was gay with flags
flying from bamboo staffs, in honour of the approaching New Year, and
red and white lanterns swung along the ridgepoles.
One peculiarity of Korean houses strikes a Westerner as very strange. As
their walls and floors are of stone or brick, it is possible to heat
them in the same manner as the Chinese _kang_, that is, by fires built
below. So, many of them are warmed in this way, the wood being put in
from the outside through an opening in the wall of the house, and the
smoke escaping through a chimney on the opposite side. A network of
pipes under the floors carries the hot air to every part of the
building.
[Illustration: A VIEW OF SEOUL.]
We visited the old palace where the dethroned Emperor and Empress used
to live. It is rather Chinese in appearance, but not quite so handsome
as the palace in Peking, which we had seen previously. The approach to
it is by a broad way lined on each side with low, tile-roofed houses;
this leads to the great _Mon_, the entrance gate, with double
overhanging roofs towering above it. Inside this is a great court, next
another massive gateway with two-storied upturned roofs, then another
courtyard, around which are low houses, and a third gate, leading into
the last court, which is approached by terraced steps of stone. Finally
appears the audience hall, a building with recurving roofs of tile,
beautiful carvings, and brilliant decorations in colour. Passages and
courts lead from this to the pleasure pavilion, a large, open,
two-storied structure with a heavy pagoda roof, which stands on a stone
terrace, and is reached by three bridges with stone balustrading. Beside
it is a tank where lotus grows, and near-by a park-like grove of quaint
pine-trees.
In this palace, several years ago, Empress Bin of Korea was assassinated
while asleep. The Emperor, however, dressed as a coolie, escaped to the
Russian Legation, where he lived for two years. He afterward built
himself a new palace in European style, where he resides now as a sort
of prisoner, while his son lives in another palace, and the grandson is
being educated in Japan. The Emperor is now known as Prince Yi the
Elder, and his son as Prince Yi the Younger, while his grandson, who
also bears the same name, is the last of the Yi dynasty, which has ruled
Korea for five hundred years.
As we all know, Korea was involved in the two terrible wars that have
been waged in the Far East in recent years. Japan needs Korea as an
outlet for her surplus population, as a source of food supply and a
market for her manufactured products, but still more does she need it as
a strong country to stand between herself and Russian aggression. In the
last decade of the nineteenth century the Hermit Kingdom was still under
the suzerainty of China, and its government was weak and hopelessly
corrupt. Japan refused to acknowledge this overlordship of China, and
insisted that the Korean government must be reformed. China was asked to
help in enforcing the changes, but refused to interfere. Neither China
nor Japan would yield.
Finally the Koreans sent for Chinese troops, and then the Japanese
attacked the Emperor's palace. A great naval battle was fought at the
mouth of the Yalu River, in which the Chinese were defeated and five of
their ships sunk. The Japanese army took Dalny and Port Arthur. Another
naval battle ended in the surrender of the Chinese fleet and the suicide
of the Chinese admiral. Togo and Yamagata, whom I once had the pleasure
of meeting at a luncheon in Tokyo, and Nogi, were among the heroes of
this war. By the treaty of Shimonoseki, in 1895, China agreed to pay an
indemnity to Japan and to recognize the independence of Korea, and also
ceded the Liaotung Peninsula with Port Arthur, and the islands of
Formosa and the Pescadores group to Japan. No sooner was this treaty
signed, however, than the Great Powers compelled Japan to restore
Liaotung to China.
But within a few years, Russia obtained a lease of Liaotung, and the
Powers made no protest. She soon invested immense sums in Manchuria--in
building the Manchurian Railroad, in fortifying Port Arthur and making
it a naval base, and extending the Chinese Eastern Railroad toward the
Yalu and Korea. She made Kharbin her military base and filled Manchuria
with soldiers.
Japan saw the necessity of protecting not only her freedom of trade, but
her very existence as a nation, for Russia, from her vantage ground in
Manchuria, had begun to take possession of the valley of the Yalu River,
on Korea's northwestern frontier. Once this section was in her power it
would be an easy matter to sweep down through the peninsula and across
the narrow Straits of Shimonoseki to the Island Empire itself.
In vain did Japan try to open up negotiations with Russia. On one excuse
or another, she was put off for months, while all the time Russia was
preparing for war. Finally diplomatic relations were severed by order of
Baron Komura, Japanese Minister of Foreign Affairs, and war was declared
February 10, 1904. Baron Kaneko, in an address before the Japan Club of
Harvard University, in April of that year, said that Japan was fighting
to maintain the peace of Asia and to conserve the influence of
Anglo-American civilization in the East.
After Admiral Togo had destroyed the Russian fleet, and the long siege
of Port Arthur had ended in its surrender to the heroic Nogi, all the
Japanese armies combined for the final struggle around Mukden, which
terminated in the flight of the Russians from Manchuria. The treaty of
peace, which was signed at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, gave Japan Port
Arthur, a protectorate over Korea, and half the island of Saghalien, and
provided that both nations should evacuate Manchuria. The protectorate
over Korea has since become a sovereignty.
The Japanese Governor-General, Count Terauchi, is a very strong and able
man, and under his administration many improvements have been made in
Korea. This has not always been done without friction between the
natives and their conquerors, it must be confessed, but the results are
certainly astonishing. The government has been reorganized, courts have
been established, the laws have been revised, trade conditions have been
improved and commerce has increased. Agriculture has been encouraged by
the opening of experiment stations, railroads have been constructed from
the interior to the sea-coast, and harbours have been dredged and
lighthouses erected. Japanese expenditures in Korea have amounted to
twelve million dollars yearly.
The Governor-General gave us a dinner at his residence, a big European
house, where everything was done in European style. The four Japanese
ladies who received, however, were all in native costume--black kimonos,
which they wear for ceremony only, and superb gold _obis_, or sashes.
One of them was the Governor's daughter, Countess Kodama, who was very
beautiful. I went in to dinner with the Governor-General, and had on the
other side a Japanese doctor of the Red Cross, who had been much in
America and was well acquainted with Miss Boardman, the head of our Red
Cross here.
Our delightful luncheon at the Consulate must not be forgotten, for no
more charming people could be found anywhere than the Scidmores. Miss
Scidmore is the author of "Jinrikisha Days," as well as other books on
the East. The remarkably pretty Consulate, which is owned by our
Government, is an old Korean house, or _yamen_, built in a walled
compound on the slope of a hill. Having only one story, it presented
more the appearance of a studio than of a residence, but was made cozy
with open fires and attractive with many beautiful curios.
The religions of Korea are Buddhism, Confucianism and Shamanism, all
found there to-day. Shamanism is the form of worship of the more
primitive masses. There are many Buddhist temples in Chosen. For
instance, among the peaks of Keum-Kang-San alone, in the heart of the
Korean mountains, there are over fifty monasteries and shrines, but all
more or less in a state of decay. Christianity was brought into the
country by the Roman Catholics in 1777.
[Illustration: THE AMERICAN CONSULATE. SEOUL.]
The American colony in Seoul numbers about five hundred, among them
being many Methodist and Presbyterian missionaries. In regard to the
recent troubles between these missionaries and the Japanese the accounts
differ. The Governor was attacked by some Koreans, and, of course,
ordered an investigation and the trial of those accused. Some of the
Koreans asserted that they were tortured by the Japanese during their
imprisonment, but in most cases this was proved untrue. The
missionaries, having been the advisers of the natives in all kinds of
ways, should not be too harshly judged for taking the part of those whom
they believed innocent.
The results of mission work in Chosen are certainly very striking. I was
told by an unprejudiced observer that the largest congregations she ever
saw were in Seoul, and she was assured that, farther north, the numbers
drawn into the churches were still greater. Even if we admit that some
of these converts were won over by the hope of material gain, we cannot
fail to see that all this work has had a humanizing effect, which is
especially needed in this country.
Some of the best work of the missions is done in schools and
hospitals--especially in hospitals. Hygienic conditions among natives
not in contact with foreigners are frightful, and their ideas of
medicine and surgery are most primitive. From mere ignorant attempts to
aid alone there is tremendous physical suffering. The foreign hospitals
have now won the confidence of the people, so that in the end they
always make application there.
When we left Seoul, many Japanese officials were at the station in the
early morning to say good-bye, among them being General Akashi, Count
Kodama, and others. At every town of any importance, during our journey
south, the mayor, the chief of police, reporters and hotelkeepers came
to the train, presented their cards, and exchanged pleasant remarks with
my husband. We were surprised to see how many of them spoke English.
Southern Korea is quite beautiful, with fine snow mountains and
cultivated terraces, where rice is raised by irrigation. The red soil is
very fertile, but the mountains are bare of trees, the Koreans having
cut down the forests. As the Japanese have made good forest laws,
however, the trees will now be allowed to grow again. The whole trip
through Korea was beautiful and most interesting, and in the south
particularly we noticed that numbers of Japanese immigrants were
settling in the country.
The colonial possessions of Japan include not only Korea, but part of
Saghalien, Formosa and one or two groups of islands in the north. It was
to Saghalien that the most desperate of Russian convicts were sent for
many years. The southern half was ceded to Japan after the
Russo-Japanese War. It has proved quite a valuable asset, inasmuch as it
contains extensive forests of pines, larches and other trees of
sub-Arctic regions, is noted for its fisheries, and abounds in sables,
the fur of which is shipped to Japan. These last are perhaps not so fine
as the best Russian sables, but they are of good quality, nevertheless.
Formosa, which I had seen on a previous visit to the East, lies to the
southward, off the coast of China. About one half as large as Ireland,
it consists in the west of a narrow, fertile plain, and in the centre
and east of mountains, which descend to the coast in sheer precipices
over three thousand feet high. Mt. Morrison, the loftiest peak on the
island, is higher than Fuji, and has been renamed by the Japanese
Nii-taka-yama, the New High Mountain. The ascent of Mt. Morrison
discloses all the variety and luxuriance of vegetation seen nowhere
except on a peak in the tropics. At the lower levels are palms, banyans,
huge camphor trees, tree-ferns and rare orchids, and impenetrable
growths of rattans; higher up are cryptomerias--giant cedars; still
higher, pine-trees; and alternate tracts of forest and areas of grass
land extend to the very top.
The word _formosa_, which means beautiful, was given to the island by
the first Portuguese navigators who sailed along its coast. It is indeed
one of the loveliest islands of the Far East. In the late afternoon, the
day we passed by, the sky was a hazy grey and the island a delicate
mauve. The sun disappeared behind the peaks, and the heavens became a
glowing red, transforming the mountains into dark, flaming volcanoes. As
darkness came on, the heat was so great that we slept on deck. The
beautiful Southern Cross gleamed above the horizon, and the glory of the
sunset gave place to the wonderful, mystic charm of a tropical night.
After having been occupied by China for over two centuries, Formosa was
ceded to Japan in 1895. Here, as in Korea, Japanese administration has
introduced great changes, and it is difficult to realize that railways
and electric lights are to be found in this remote part of the earth. In
return Formosa supplies Japan with rice, tea and sugar. It also produces
nearly all the camphor used in the world.
The Chinese, during their possession of the island, inhabited only the
western section, and had no power whatever over the wild Malays of the
eastern half. These savages are head-hunters, and are difficult to
handle, because they enjoy above everything else that most terrible and
exciting game in the world, the game of taking another man's head. They
dance war dances, and keep the skulls of their slain enemies as
drinking-cups, from which they drink wine made from the brains of their
victims. The Japanese have devised an ingenious scheme for keeping the
head-hunters under control and conquering them. They have encircled the
mountain peaks with a live electric wire, and have stationed guards at
intervals along the line. The natives have learned the danger of this.
Now the Japanese are gradually moving the wire higher and higher, so
eventually they will have the savages pocketed, and will subdue them by
starvation or otherwise.
After our brief stay in Seoul we bade farewell to the Colonies and
turned our faces toward the Land of the Rising Sun itself, making the
crossing from Chosen to Shimonoseki in a single night. This is far
pleasanter than the passage from Vladivostok, which requires several
days. In order to attract travellers, the Japanese have put their best
cars and boats on this route. Our last glimpse of the Hermit Kingdom was
a picture of jagged peaks rising in lofty precipices from a moonlit sea,
their black masses outlined in solemn grandeur against the heavens.
CHAPTER II
HISTORIC KYOTO
It was a day's journey in the train from the coast to Kyoto. We ran
through stretches of glistening paddy-fields, with their patches of
bright green crops and rows of yellow straw-stacks, and then through
long villages of tiny thatch-roofed houses, or by avenues of twisted
pine-trees. We passed bullock carts and strangely laden horses, and
people clip-clipping along on their wooden clogs, and arrived finally,
late on Christmas Eve, at Kyoto, the ancient capital.
[Illustration: "WE PASSED ... STRANGELY LADEN HORSES."]
To our delight and surprise, we found that the thoughtful hotel
proprietor had arranged a pretty Christmas tree in our parlour. So we
had supper and exchanged gifts, although the hour was late, and felt
that in spite of being so far from home we were having a real Christmas
after all.
We stopped in Kyoto for the especial purpose of making a pilgrimage to
the burial place of the late Emperor Mutsuhito, now known as Meiji
Tenno. The emperors take their posthumous name from the name of their
era; the present Emperor has chosen to call his era Tai-Sho, for
instance, which means Great Righteousness. As L. wished to pay his
respects, it was arranged that we should visit Momoyama, where the late
Emperor is buried.
As all diplomats are obliged to wear Court mourning, we put on our
deepest black--I had a crêpe veil and bonnet which I had been wearing
for the mother of the King of Belgium. We went in a motor. The roads
were excellent, and the people made way for us, so that we ran with
speed and comfort, even through the narrow streets of the continuous
village with their congested traffic.
The place chosen for the tomb of Mutsuhito is on a hill beyond Kyoto
where there is a fine outlook which the late Emperor greatly loved. As
we drew near, constabulary, who were apparently waiting for us, directed
and stopped the traffic, so that we soon reached the broad new highway
which had been made for the funeral. It is a wide gravel road winding
around the base of the mountain to the low-lying buildings about the
tomb. These are of the simplest style. Indeed, the entire burial place
and shrine are in the Shinto fashion, very plain in form and
arrangement.
[Illustration: THE TOMB OF MUTSUHITO.]
We were met by the Honourable Chief Keeper of the Tomb, a Japanese
gentleman in a frock coat and top hat who conducted us into a pavilion
at one side, where seats were placed at the head of a table. Here we sat
for a few moments, and then, preceded by the Keeper, passed into the
wide gravelled courtyard surrounded by houses and walls of plain wood.
There are two "wash-hand" places at one side, between which a path leads
to steps that ascend from the court toward the burial place. People are
admitted to this courtyard, and at times over a hundred thousand have
come in a single day to worship the memory of the late Mikado. Princes
and ambassadors may go beyond this space, however, so we bowed and
passed up another gravelled way to the Memorial Temple, in its simple
Shinto style. Immediately above this, higher up on the hill, is the
temple beneath which the Emperor's body is buried.
At one side of the Memorial Temple, in a small pavilion, three figures
were squatting, immobile and expressionless. These were noblemen,
dressed in ancient fashion. Here we found a mat on which we knelt for a
while, then rose and bowed again toward the tomb, and then toward the
figures in the pavilion, who bowed in return. After that we passed out
as we had come.
It had really been a most impressive ceremonial, although so simple. As
we had been received by his late Majesty in audience and at luncheon,
there was something personal as well as official in the respect which we
had tried to show by our pilgrimage. Afterward we heard that it had been
greatly appreciated by the Japanese officials and people, who consider
their Imperial family almost divine.
The funeral of the Emperor occurred several months before our arrival in
Japan. From all accounts it must have been a very wonder of wonders.
Special ambassadors came from every country as guests of the Japanese
Government, and fine houses were put at their disposal. Mr. Knox, our
Secretary of State, was conveyed from the United States in a man-of-war.
Great pavilions in Shinto style were erected in Tokyo to accommodate the
distinguished guests during the evening of the procession, and feasts
were provided for them.
[Illustration: THE FUNERAL CORTEGE.]
As it had been so long since an Emperor had died, special Shinto
services had to be arranged. The funeral was at night. The music was
very weird and sad, and the wheels of the funeral car, which was drawn
by oxen, were made to creak as they ran along, as if writhing and crying
in agony for the loss of the Great Emperor they were bearing to his
resting-place.
High officials, officers, and priests, in old ceremonial costumes or
modern uniforms, were in the procession, and the brightly decorated
avenue, lined with soldiers and crowded with onlookers, made a weird
picture in the flashing lights--one never to be forgotten, I should
imagine, by those who were fortunate enough to witness it. After passing
in this fashion through the streets of Tokyo the body was put on the
train and conveyed to Kyoto, where the procession was resumed to the
tomb.
Of its reception in Kyoto, Terry, author of "The Japanese Empire," says:
"To the distant crashing and the reverberating roar of minute-guns; the
wailing of bugles and the booming of gigantic temple bells; to the sound
of the wild minstrelsy of priests and bonzes, the pattering of a
weeping, drenching rain and the sighing of a vast concourse of mourning
people ... the mortal remains of Mutsuhito ... were laid tenderly in
their last resting place."
A poem written by the late Emperor and translated by Dr. Bryan has
recently been published. It is called "My People," and although so short
is rather impressive.
"Whether it rain or shine,
I have only one care:
The burden of this heart of mine
Is how my people fare!"
Kyoto, sometimes called Saikyo, was the ancient capital, where the
shoguns and mikados used to reside in the early days. It is a city of
temples, where nothing under three hundred years is counted old, and
although typically Japanese it seems somehow different from other
cities. The tiny houses and narrow streets appear tinier and narrower
here than elsewhere.
The hills to the east of the city are covered with old shrines and
buildings, and the woods are full of temples, too. In the Chionin
Temple, founded some seven hundred years ago, may be seen an umbrella
left among the rafters of the roof by the master-builder during its
erection. Tradition insists that it flew thither out of the hands of a
boy whose shape had been assumed by the guardian deity of the temple,
but the other explanation, while less romantic, seems more probable.
Near this temple, on a small elevation among the trees, stands the Great
Bell, the largest in the country. Not far away are many other
interesting things, among them the Dai Butsu--the Great Buddha. There
are also some sacred springs, a curious temple on stilts, and
innumerable lanterns.
The two most important temples are the Eastern and the Western
Hongwanji, which belong to the most powerful Buddhist sect. We went
through the latter, which had some excellent paintings. The garden and
houses belonging to this temple, which are six hundred years old, were
built by Hideyoshi, the famous "clever boy," who from nothing at all
became shogun. The Eastern temple is described in the chapter dealing
with religions.
[Illustration: HIDEYOSHI'S HOUSE AND GARDEN.]
The approach to the Gosho Palace, once the abode of the mikados, is not
very attractive, leading through a bare, flat park. Our interest was
soon aroused, however, by the sight of one of the six gates of the
palace, through which we drove, following the grey wall with its stripes
of white and its tiles showing the sixteen-petalled chrysanthemums--both
emblems of royalty. Another gate, perhaps a little smaller than the
first, brought us to the immediate entrance. The building is
comparatively new, the old palace having been destroyed by fire in 1854,
but it is very large, covering an area of twenty-six acres.
Two officials greeted us at the inner gate, and, after politely asking
us to remove our shoes, conducted us down the long, narrow corridor to
what were probably waiting-rooms. There were three of these, decorated
in sepia. From here we were led through another corridor, past the room
with a dais at one end for the higher nobility, where the courtiers used
to dine off the flat, red lacquer tables, to the Seiryoden--the Pure and
Cool Hall--a room used for religious festivals, with marvellously
coloured birds painted upon its walls. This hall received its name from
a small stream of clear water which runs through a sluiceway near-by.
Opening from this is a courtyard in which grow two clumps of bamboo,
named centuries ago for the two ancient Chinese kingdoms, Kan and
Go--Kan-chiku and Go-chiku.
To the right of the Seiryoden is a room which is reserved for special
audiences, called Shishinden, or Mysterious Purple Hall. In the centre
of this is a platform on which stands the throne, a great chair inlaid
with mother-of-pearl. It is covered by a canopy of pale fawn-coloured
brocade with outer drapings of red and purple, and is guarded by the two
sacred dogs. The walls of this room are painted in panels representing
Chinese sages, the panels being copies of the originals, which were
painted in 888 A. D. and afterward destroyed by fire. Leading from the
courtyard into the hall is a flight of fifteen steps, corresponding in
number to the grades into which officials of government were divided.
The higher order stood on the upper step, and so on down to those who
were obliged to stand in the court. On one side of the steps is a wild
orange tree named Ukon-No-Tachibana, and on the other a cherry tree,
Sakon-No-Sakura.
From this hall we passed through more galleries, and through one
particularly beautiful chamber with decorations of wild geese in sepia.
At the end of a corridor, making a turn to the left, we came to some
more waiting-rooms, decorated in blue and white--the most heavenly blue,
surely pieces of the sky brought down from the kingdom of the gods by
the first illustrious ruler! Here tea and cigarettes were offered us,
and we were glad to rest and enjoy the view of the landscape garden with
its miniature lake and islands on which were temples and twisted trees.
From this room we passed through more corridors to the entrance, where
we bowed to our guide, put on our shoes, and departed, with a feeling of
having been soothed and rested by the beautiful simplicity and solemnity
of the Gosho Palace.
Once more out in the sunshine, we drove through the park into the
streets of the city and on to the Nijo Castle. This palace, formerly
belonging to the shoguns, dates from the early part of the seventeenth
century. Its splendid iron-bound gates are fine specimens of Japanese
architecture and carving. It is much more resplendent than the Mikado's
palace, having been built in a spirit of rivalry to show the superior
wealth and power of the Shogun. We were received here in the same
cordial manner as at the Gosho, and after removing our shoes were taken
into a small antechamber, which had two superb doors made of the
cryptomeria tree with bronze studdings and hinges. Then followed a
series of rooms, the first of which was set aside for the _samurai_ and
decorated with tigers with intent, awful eyes, crouching, rampant, even
flying, on a background of glorious gold.
From these we passed into the rooms used by the _daimyos_, and on from
room to room, every apartment having its golden setting, which was so
rich and mellow with age that we seemed to be breathing in the creamy
softness of it. In each of these suites were secret closets, where
guards were stationed in olden times, unseen by the assembly. One
chamber with its paintings of pine-trees was very attractive in its
simplicity; the next delighted us with remarkable carvings; the
following one, with its cherry blossoms and its ceiling, so pleased the
late Emperor that he had it copied for the banquet-room of his palace in
Tokyo. Still another apartment, with its bamboo decorations, rivalled
those we had seen before, while the last one had a pathetic touch with
its poor little cold and starving sparrows.
One door of especial note showed a heron, wet, cold and miserable,
standing on the gunwale of a boat. The grain of the wood had been
skilfully used by the artist to represent a rainstorm. The door had
unfortunately been much damaged by vandalism during the régime of the
Kyoto prefecture in 1868.
From a long series of rooms radiant with sunshine we entered others
which had the moonlight for their setting--all so beautiful that it is
difficult to express one's admiration. From this suite we were led
finally back to the entrance once more, arriving there bewildered by the
vast number of rooms, the length of the corridors, and the splendour of
all that we had seen.
It was in this palace that the last of the Shoguns formally turned over
his power to the Mikado, an event which marked the beginning of the new
era for Japan.
* * * * *
Japanese history, with which Kyoto is closely identified, begins with
myth and fable. No definite facts or dates are known, previous to the
fifth century A. D. According to legend, the country was first created
by Izanagi and his wife Izanami; from his left eye came the Sun-Goddess
and from his right eye the moon, while a tempestuous god came from his
nose. He was blessed with more than a hundred children, but, in spite of
this, his wife, Izanami, died and went to Hades. Although their parents
were divine, the children were only demi-gods, and came to earth by
means of a floating bridge.
The Sun-Goddess, Ama-terasu, was given partial control of the new realm.
She appointed her grandson, Ninigi, and his descendants for ever,
sovereigns of Japan. Before leaving his grandmother's kingdom Ninigi was
presented with a sacred mirror, sword and jewel. The mirror is shown at
the shrine of Ise, the sword in a temple near Nagoya, while the stone
has always been kept by the Mikado. Ninigi, accompanied by a host of
gods, alighted upon a mountain in the province of Satsuma, and his son,
Jimmu Tenno, finally made a conquest of Japan.
The Emperor Jimmu is said to have been the first human sovereign in the
land. He rowed up through the Inland Sea with his warriors, overcoming
and subjugating the savages whom he encountered. All this happened
during the seventh century before Christ. February eleventh is the date
celebrated as the anniversary of his coronation as Emperor, but, of
course, not only the date but even his very existence, is uncertain. The
present Emperor is believed to be a direct descendant of this first
ruler.
Some think that Jimmu Tenno may have been a Chinese warrior, for it is
true that during the third and fourth centuries A. D. vast hordes of
Chinese and Koreans invaded the country, bringing with them the arts and
sciences of civilization, as well as the religion of Buddha. The Ainus,
who were probably the original Island people, began to disappear and are
now found only on the northern island of Hokkaido--also called Yezo.
The first woman who seems to have taken an active part in Japanese
history is the Empress Jingo (Singokogu). She is supposed to have lived
in the third century A. D. and to have made a conquest of Korea, which
she added to her other possessions.
The son of Sujin, "the Civilizer," became known as the Merciful Emperor,
because he did away with the terrible custom of burying alive, with a
deceased Emperor, his family, retainers, and animals. Instead, he
substituted clay figures about the tomb. This is still the fashion, for
such figures were placed inside the tomb of the late Emperor. They are
also to be seen on the avenue leading to the Ming Tombs, near the Great
Wall of China.
Kyoto became the seat of the mikados during the eighth century A. D. and
was known as the Western Capital. From the twelfth century on, these
descendants of the Sun-Goddess were rulers of Japan in theory only,
however. In reality the power was held by a succession of powerful
nobles--mayors of the palace, like the Carolingians in mediæval
Europe--who were called _shoguns_.
The shoguns continued in power for nearly a thousand years, living at
first in Kyoto but later--in the sixteenth century--removing to Tokyo
(Yedo), which became the Eastern Capital. They never claimed supremacy,
always affirming that they ruled the country simply by authority
delegated to them from the Mikado. Any titles or honours which they
wished to bestow upon themselves or their favourites were given in the
name of the Emperor.
The Portuguese were the first foreigners to arrive, coming in 1542. With
them were Jesuit priests, who, under cover of attempted conversion, were
thought to be plotting a Portuguese conquest of the country. As a result
of this discovery, in 1587, an edict was issued that all Christian
teachers should leave Japan. Later even more stringent measures were
taken for the destruction of the Church, and all proselytes were called
upon to recant.
After this event two centuries and a half of peaceful seclusion, known
as the Tokugawa Period, followed. The founder of this dynasty was
Tokugawa Iyeyasu, a general of great genius who succeeded in bringing
the other nobles to terms and in establishing a strong and effective
central government. Bismarck is said to have described him as "a great
man long trained in the school of adversity." Feudalism reached its
perfection under his rule.
While the shoguns were in power they owned all the land in the realm.
This land they leased to the _daimyo_, or barons. These in turn sublet
to their vassals, the brave _samurai_, who formed the fighting class and
gave military service to their lords for the value received. Merchants,
traders, manufacturers, farmers, artisans and coolies, all owed
allegiance to their immediate master, who stood next above them in the
social scale.
During the Tokugawa Period art and letters flourished. The country was
at peace, and well governed. The only foreigners allowed in the country
were the Chinese and Dutch traders, who might enter the harbour of
Nagasaki under guard.
To Americans the most interesting date in Japanese history is that of
July 14th, 1853, when Commodore Perry appeared with his black ships, his
big guns, and a letter from the President of the United States to the
Shogun of Japan. (Foreigners did not realize that the Shogun was not the
supreme authority.) Prince Tokugawa not only received the letter, which
was contrary to national law, but in due time consented to the opening
of certain ports to foreign trade.
Soon after this, the "open door" policy proving unpopular with the
people, the country found itself in the throes of a revolution which
resulted, in 1868, in the restoration of the Mikado to the throne of his
ancestors and to the power which went with it. Prince Keiki Tokugawa,
the fifteenth of the House of Tokugawa and last of the shoguns, retired
in favour of the Emperor, Meiji Tenno. He survived the Emperor by over a
year, dying in November, 1913.
Although the Imperial line was restored to power, their capital, Kyoto,
was abandoned in favour of Tokyo, which has remained the seat of
government ever since.
CHAPTER III
FIRST DAYS AT THE EMBASSY
Soon after Christmas we left Kyoto for Tokyo. After having been on the
train eighteen days I looked forward with pleasure to being quiet once
more.
At the station we found the members of the American Embassy Staff and
some old Japanese friends waiting to greet us. There were nineteen in
all on the Staff--a larger number than at any other American Embassy. As
we walked down the platform to the carriage, the photographers took
flashlight pictures of the party in quite an up-to-date American
fashion.
We had a house ready for us on our arrival, as the United States owns
the Embassy in Japan. Of course all our embassies and legations and
consulates are considered American territory, but as almost all these
are rented houses, the theory is rather absurd. Years ago, however, the
Government felt that it was necessary to buy land in Japan and Turkey
for embassies and in China for a legation, and this accounts for our
experience.
Congress is not generous in anything which does not concern immediate
home politics. It will not pay for embassies which compare with those of
other nations, as a rule. The one appropriation so far suggested in
Congress for the purchase of five or six embassy buildings is not
sufficient to buy one suitable residence, so the Government would
probably acquire, at best, only a second-rate house, which would make
the American Ambassador second-rate in the eyes of the country to which
he was accredited.
Granting that the Government did acquire a suitable house, however, it
would require an increase in salary to keep it up. Diplomats are obliged
to observe certain standards of living unless they wish to have their
country looked down upon. For instance, in Vienna even the secretaries
must drive in a carriage with a pair--a one-horse conveyance is not
considered suitable for diplomats. On the other hand, as there is no
regular diplomatic service in America, the raising of salaries would
attract a poor class of politicians who would seek foreign posts for the
money that went with them. This happens sometimes in representations
from other countries, but as they have a well-organized service it does
not occur very often.
From the outside the Embassy in Tokyo looks rather like an American
summer hotel--a large white house with green blinds, of no particular
style and somewhat old and ramshackle. I was told that it had to be
built of wood on account of earthquakes; it certainly had great cracks
in the walls. It had been newly painted in honour of our arrival, and
looked fairly well on the outside, comparing favourably with some of the
other embassies: the English, German and Austrian are perhaps better,
and the French are to build an ambitious new one. The Dutch and the
Brazilians were our nearest diplomatic neighbours; the former have a
very nice compound on a hill near-by, and although the house is not
large it is filled with beautiful curios. Our own Embassy was shabby,
but we found it rather nice and comfortable, after all; it was one of
the few houses in Tokyo that had a furnace, which is a rare luxury in
Japan.
[Illustration: THE AMERICAN EMBASSY, TOKYO.]
The embassies are scattered about on commanding hills in different parts
of the city, as the land was bought at various times by their respective
governments. At one time Tsukiji was the only part down by the river
where foreigners who were not officials were allowed to live, but I
believe they may now rent houses in any section of Tokyo.
Our compound was on the slope of a hill in a district called Akasaka. It
covered about two acres and contained, besides the Embassy and the
chancery and the servants' quarters connected with it, a stable and two
bungalows. One of the bungalows was for the First Secretary, the other
for the First Japanese Secretary, who was not a Japanese but an American
who had mastered the language.
The compound itself, in which all the buildings stand, is really a
garden, with cherries and plums and twisted trees, an arbour of
wisteria, and, of course, a little pond and bridge. The snow that came
several times during the winter only added to its charm, making of it a
place where sprites would have loved to dance.
The front door of the Embassy opened into a large hall with a staircase
at one side. On the left was the Ambassador's private office, which
connected directly with the chancery offices, while on the right was a
small reception-room with an open fire. I often received guests in this
room for tea; it was done in green and had Japanese brasses and prints
upon the walls. Opening out of it was another small parlour done in pink
and white, with rows of books about; from this one entered a
drawing-room with red brocade on the walls, heavy furniture, and a
piano. This led in turn into a large dining-room, finished in white,
with an enclosed veranda outside.
Up-stairs there were four bedrooms, a library, and a long enclosed
balcony into which the sun poured all the morning. The bedrooms were
large and barn-like, but with the aid of Japanese crêpes and rugs they
came to look quite attractive.
The place which I liked best of all was a writing-room on the veranda.
On a table covered with a blue and white Chinese cloth stood a small
_hibachi_, a fire-box for warming the hands, made of hammered brass,
with fantastic chrysanthemums and leaves. There were also a long Korean
pipe and a shorter Japanese one, as well as a gun-metal box that we had
bought in Kyoto, inlaid with a crouching gold tiger. On the wall were
red and green prints. Pottery and baskets with plants in them, and a
bowl of goldfish, completed the decorations of this little den.
A few stray pieces of furniture, rather the worse for wear, were the
only things owned by the Government, but we had arranged to rent the
furnishings of my husband's predecessor. Fortunately these were
attractive things, so that the house was ready for use upon our arrival.
It is much harder than one would imagine, even to-day, to get things in
Japan for European houses. The foreign shops which had European
furniture to sell charged well for it, and did not have much that was in
good taste.
During the first few days we were busy unpacking our belongings--some
old Japanese screens that had travelled round the world back to Japan
with us, a few rugs, and our linen and silver. We weeded out the things
we did not especially care for in the house, and picked up here and
there some interesting prints and curios. It was said to be the moment
to purchase porcelains that were coming out of China, and as Jaehne, an
American dealer in Tokyo, came back with some good things, we bought a
few. With these, and with the enchanting little dwarf trees in bloom,
the Embassy soon looked homelike and pretty.
We had already engaged in advance the Japanese servants. These live in
the Embassy compound, and many of them are passed on from one Ambassador
to the next. Their quarters are connected with the Embassy house, and
they sometimes invite their relations to live with them, so that often
fifty or more persons may be found there. As they both eat and sleep
upon their mats and are very quiet, one would never know they were in
the compound at all.
Watanabe and Dick, with the little maids, all wore Japanese costumes.
Watanabe, the "head boy," or butler, had been in the Embassy for
thirty-five years, and had entire charge of the housekeeping
arrangements. He was head of the "Boys' Guild" of Tokyo, and an
important person. Dick was the only one of the servants who had been in
America, although the cook had been in France, and O Sawa, the maid, had
been to China and the Philippines.
[Illustration: JAPANESE SERVANTS.]
Every morning the cook sent up a French menu for approval. European
food, as prepared by the Japanese, is really very good. Turtle, served
in American fashion, is quite as palatable as our terrapin, and the
"mountain whale," or wild boar, is a real delicacy. (In olden times the
Buddhists were not supposed to eat meat, and because it was difficult
for the people of the mountains to get to the sea for fish the priests
allowed them to eat the wild boar on the hills, but called it "mountain
whale!") Some of the meat used in the city comes from Australia, as does
also the canned butter. Cows are few, but we were able to get our own
milk and butter from a local dairy. My husband is very fond of Japanese
food, and as I like it too, often of an evening when we were alone or
had friends who also enjoyed it, we would have Japanese dinners at the
Embassy, served upon the table but in the pretty lacquer bowls on little
lacquer trays. Eels with rice and _soy_ was a favourite dish.
I used to enjoy sitting in the den and listening to the street noises,
they were so strange and interesting. There were the songs of men
carrying heavy loads, and the bells of the men who, in the winter, run
from temple to temple, almost naked, and have cold water poured over
them, as a penance. There was the fanfare of the soldiers, too,
something like that of the Italians, and the flute of the blind masseur,
and the steady whistle of the man who cleans the pipes of smokers. The
newsboys all wore bells, and the people selling wares often had little
drums which they beat.
When not listening to the sounds outside, I often used to sit and look
into the bowl of glistening water where the goldfish lived, for they
quite fascinated me, with their jawless chins, which they kept opening
and shutting for food in such a greedy manner! The swish of their tails
was like the grace of a trailing kimono worn by the ladies of long ago,
while their fins suggested the sleeves of a _geisha_ girl. Some of them
had popping eyes that stared at you, some were so fat that they swam
upside down quite comfortably. They would rush from one side of the bowl
to the other, pushing their noses up close against the glass, as if they
were eager to swim out of their lovely opalescent world. Many humans
live in a world not very much larger than a goldfish's bowl, and never
try to get out at all!
Of an evening one heard the notes of the _samisen_, an instrument like a
small-headed banjo, made of catskin and having three strings. Japanese
music is minor, and being in half tones, which our ear is not trained to
appreciate, sounds very strange, and to many even uncouth. None of it is
written--the songs are simply passed on from one to another. Although so
many Europeans do not care for this music, I find it very fascinating.
But our ideas of what is beautiful are bound to differ. Watanabe caught
a nightingale in the Embassy garden by means of a spider, and put it in
a cage in the house. It had several notes, not all very pleasant, I must
admit, but I suppose it was a compliment when he told some one, after
having heard me sing, "Bird's high note just like Madam!"
In the silence of the night, one also heard the clack, clack of the
watchman at a house near-by, who beat two sticks together so that his
master might hear and know that he was keeping watch. Besides this,
there was the squeaking of rats, the meow of our cat, or the barking of
a dog. It must have been this same dog, by the way, who came to such an
untimely end while we were there.
"Have you heard the news?" one of the secretaries asked one morning.
"Why, no--what is it?" I inquired.
"Perhaps you may remember that the Embassy dog barked so much that our
neighbours complained and we had to give him away. Some _geishas_ took
him, but he still came back to visit us."
"Yes," I interrupted, "he comes back at night--I've heard him!"
"He did come back--but alas! he never will again. That is the news--we
found him dead in the garden this morning. His funeral procession has
just gone down the street, the _geishas_ following the corpse in their
'rickshas."
"A dog's funeral! How funny!"
"Not so funny as something that happened not very long ago, when the
local veterinary died," the Secretary assured me; "our Embassy dog was
invited to attend his funeral. Of course we sent him, and he rode in
state in the first 'ricksha behind the body, followed by other dogs of
lesser rank, each riding in its master's carriage."
Occasionally there would be the tremor of an earthquake. But most of the
shocks are slight--so slight that one doesn't often feel them. Having
been born and brought up on made land in the Back Bay of Boston, where
every team shakes the house, I did not notice one all the time I was in
Tokyo. I had to take the tremors on hearsay.
Tokyo is considered cold in winter. It has a chill wind, but not so bad
as the east wind in Boston. The climate might, perhaps, compare with
Washington, but as the houses are so lightly built, and the people live
upon the floor with little heat, the Japanese suffer a great deal from
the cold. It had always been thought too severe in Tokyo for the
Emperor, who as Crown Prince used to go to the seashore during the
winter months, but this year, having become Emperor on the death of his
father, he was obliged to stay in town. Miss Hyde has perhaps the most
attractive house and garden that I saw in Tokyo. The garden was small,
but you entered under a _torii_ gate, and found a bronze Buddha calmly
sitting beneath a tree. Indoors, Miss Hyde had decorated some of the
_shoji_, the sliding screens, with pretty, laughing Japanese children.
Her wood cuts of these children, by the way, are enchanting. The day we
lunched with her the table was charmingly arranged, with little dolls
among the flowers carrying lighted egg-shell lanterns.
[Illustration: "SECRET."--WOOD-CUT BY MISS HYDE.]
The different members of the Staff were very kind in welcoming us by
dinners given in our honour. Each entertainment had a new feature
introduced. Some of the "boys" are very clever in arranging miniature
landscapes on the table, or dwarf box-gardens. Often electric lights are
introduced among the flowers. Japanese fingers are so deft that the
results are marvellous. At one dinner to which we went, the guests found
little lanterns with their names on them, and sat under a huge,
wide-spread Japanese umbrella. On many occasions the place-cards were
charmingly painted. One was repeatedly fascinated by the fairy-like
scenes that were set on the tables. After dinner we often had music or
bridge--every Saturday night a certain set met for bridge at the Italian
Embassy, and on another evening at the Austrian.
One night, in the middle of a dinner, we heard great shouting outside.
It sounded like a college cry in Japanese and ended up with "_Banzai
Taishikwan_!" The latter word means ambassador. _Banzai_ is often used
as a toast--Good luck to you!--but literally translated, means, "Hurrah!
Ten thousand years!"
At a dinner one evening, we met two Japanese ladies, sisters, who were
dressed alike in black kimonos with white dots to represent a
snowstorm--a design especially appropriate for winter; superb silver
sashes embroidered with black crows completed their costumes. At this
dinner an Italian tenor sang delightfully. For souvenirs we were given
charming lacquer _saké_ cups.
We ordered as mementoes for our dinners at the Embassy small silver
boxes with the American eagle upon them. At Japanese dinners they often
give you exquisite lacquer cups or black lacquer boxes with decorations
in gold, tied with bright cord, or silver knickknacks made in artistic
designs. They are sometimes put on the table in their boxes in front of
you, or passed on a tray, uncovered, as is done at Court, at the end of
the repast, so that you may pick out the object you prefer. It was said
that the late Emperor himself used to design the tokens which were used
on the Imperial table. The little souvenirs are admired and greatly
treasured, both by the Japanese themselves and by foreigners, some of
whom have really beautiful collections which are displayed with pride on
the tables in their salons.
Shopping in Japan is always a leisurely affair. It is fascinating to go
into the queer, pretty little shops with their soft mats, and to enter
the attractive courtyards. If the dealer thinks you are sufficiently
appreciative, he will take out of his _godown_ or treasure-house a blue
and white vase, or a peachblow, and will sit on the mat handling it
tenderly while you drink a cup of tea or smoke a tiny pipe, as you
choose. One may spend days in such a curio shop, discussing the beauty
of a vase, admiring the bronzes, and finally, perhaps, settling upon a
price! It is very exciting when the silken handkerchief is being unwound
from some treasure, and you see the beautiful thing at last, for you
never can tell whether it is going to be a little bronze or a piece of
ivory, or smooth lacquer. We knew enough to make the dealer go deep into
his _godown_ before we began to talk or bargain, for they don't trouble
to bring out their best things unless you insist. When you have seen the
really good work you wonder how you ever looked at the _muki_[2] which
was displayed at first.
[2] Cheap articles made for foreign trade.
After luncheon our drawing-room would fairly seethe with dealers, who
came to show us their curios both old and new, which they laid out on
the furniture or the floor, as it happened. They brought lacquer boxes
and porcelains to tempt the eye, and innumerable wood cuts of doubtful
quality.
Not only the old curios, but the modern articles made for foreigners,
are very attractive, but dealers only make one or two of the same kind,
so it is often impossible to duplicate even the simplest household
things. Besides the silver tea and coffee sets, there are silk
articles--stockings, handkerchiefs, and crêpes of all kinds, beautifully
embroidered--while the modern porcelains are both charming and cheap.
But one finds most of these modern things in America now. The old
Japanese curios that are really good cost more than ever, and are every
year more difficult to find.
The culture pearls are especially attractive, and only the Japanese
produce them. The oyster must be three years old when it is opened and a
piece of mother-of-pearl inserted. This causes an irritation, which
forms a pearl in about four years. They are often coloured pink or blue
by injecting chemicals, but as they are rather flat on one side they do
not bring the prices of natural pearls.
It is possible to buy some furs which are rarely seen in America--the
long-haired rabbit, the badger, and slippers made of monkey-skin.
Wherever we went, we were advised to buy our furs elsewhere. China is,
of course, noted for its skins--the long white goat and the leopard
being among the best--but we were told not to buy in China because,
although furs were cheap there, they were not well cured. In Russia we
were warned not to buy them because they were so costly, but to wait
till we reached Germany, where they are both well-cured and inexpensive.
I must confess that we bought in all places, however, and found them
generally satisfactory. While the Japanese furs are not so cheap as the
Chinese, they are cheaper than the Russian and are well cured.
The main shopping street of Tokyo, the "Ginza," is very broad and has
the most prominent stores. Some of these look quite as modern as those
on Broadway and are several stories high--a great contrast to the little
wooden houses about them. One finds to-day in the city a great many wide
spaces and parks that did not exist a few years ago, but, of course,
many of the streets are still narrow and picturesque.
One lovely late afternoon, when there was a silver half-moon swimming in
the sky, I went for a walk with Osame through the city streets, which
are a continuous bazaar. We turned aside into little narrow ways, lined
with bamboo fences with quaint gates, inside of which were glimpses of
pretty gardens with gravel approaches and gnarled pine-trees, and of
little houses with overhanging roofs that threatened to tumble over with
their own weight. In front of the houses hung lanterns with characters
which Osame translated for me. Here was the house of a "Teacher of the
Tea Ceremony," there lived a "Teacher of Flower Arrangement;" each tiny
dwelling bore the name of its owner--and often his telephone number!--on
a little wooden slab tacked on the gate-post. It was all so typical and
so characteristic--so different from a street anywhere else in the
world. We came to a hill and passed up long flights of steps, coming to
a temple on the summit which is as quiet and solemn as if it were miles
from anywhere. Then we went down again, by another long flight of
stairs, into a busy district, past many pretty tea-houses in which
_geishas_ live, and so out into the more respectable quarter of the
Embassy. When my husband was here twenty-five years ago, much of this
thickly settled part of the city was all paddy-fields.
Some of the signs on the streets, written in English "as it is Japped,"
used to be very funny, but the Government has tried to do away with the
amusing ones, so that to-day they are seldom seen in the city, though
one runs across them now and then in the country. "The efficacy of this
beer is to give the health and especially the strength for stomach. The
flavour is so sweet and simple in here if much drink," was one of them,
I remember. A tailor of uniforms had on his sign, "Gold Tail Shop,"
while another shop assured the passer-by that "The tas [tea] are restful
and for sharpen the minds." Cigarettes are driving out the native
tobacco; a brand is advertised as being "very fragrant except a bad
smell." One sign insisted that within could be produced "wine, beer, and
others!"
The days at the Embassy passed very pleasantly. Afternoons and evenings
were filled with social duties, but the mornings I was free to spend as
I chose. Mrs. Caldwell, wife of one of the Staff, and I found the
Japanese toys so fascinating that we could hardly tear ourselves away
from the shops. Madame Van Royen, the American wife of the Dutch
Minister, and I had several automobile rides together. Mrs. Caldwell and
I played tennis and sang duets, and sometimes of a morning I would have
a walk with one of the secretaries.
There was always plenty of sight-seeing to be done whenever we had any
spare time. It was a happy surprise not to find more changes in the
outward appearance of the country and of the people since my earlier
visits. The hotels throughout the country are more comfortable, however,
and the European food better. The _naisans_ (maids) and _geisha_ girls
speak a little English now, which they could not do a few years ago. In
many of the towns the streets are wider and are bright with electric
lights, while electric cars and motors are quite popular, and even
flying-machines are to be seen. The cities are more sanitary than they
were, too, although even now an occasional case of cholera is
discovered, and foreigners are still careful not to eat uncooked food.
The yellow journals of both America and Japan have been active in trying
to stir up trouble between the two countries. When we were in Japan
fifteen years ago, some of our papers said that foreigners were in
danger there, but we never saw then, or while my husband was Ambassador,
any rudeness or threat of violence. Lately, owing to the California
trouble, I understand that some rude speeches have been made, and some
writing has appeared on the Embassy wall. When we were there with the
American Secretary of War on our way to the Philippines, no people could
have showed greater good-will than the Japanese Government expressed in
every way to our party, which represented the United States.
To return to the streets--although one sees many carriages and a few
motors, the man-drawn jinrikisha is still the most popular conveyance; a
few years ago there were forty thousand of them in Tokyo alone. The
runners can jog along at a good six miles an hour, and can keep up the
pace for a long distance. With a leader or pusher, or with three men, as
many as ninety miles can be made in a day. As Tokyo is almost as
wide-spreading as London, an automobile is a convenience in returning
visits, notwithstanding the narrowness of the streets, in which people
walk and children play. Pedestrians pay little attention to the warning
of the automobile horn, perhaps owing to the whistles and horns of the
dealers and the other noises of the busy streets.
There are some large new brick buildings in Tokyo, and a new railway
station is being built. Some of the European government buildings are
quite handsome, as well as very large and imposing--they would look big
anywhere, whether one admired their architecture or not. There are also
two large European hotels, and a good bank.
[Illustration: SHIBA PARK, TOKYO.]
Shiba Park is not very far from the Embassy. People go there to see the
Shiba Temples, which were built in honour of the sixth, seventh, and
ninth shoguns. As usual, one enters through a _torii_, or gateway, into
a paved courtyard, and takes off one's shoes before going into the
temple.
In feudal times, when the Shogun came to worship the spirits of his
ancestors, he alone ascended to the sanctum of the temple, the _daimyos_
seating themselves next to him in the corridor below, while the rest of
the nobility occupied the oratory.
The lacquer in these temples is perhaps the most beautiful that I saw in
Japan, and the carvings are superb. In many places one sees the
three-leafed asarum, which is the crest of the Tokugawa family, and the
lotus, the Buddhist emblem of purity.
Behind the temples are the stone tombs with their bronze lanterns; the
newest one bears the date 1877, and is the burial place of the present
Emperor's great-aunt. Near the tombs can be seen the imprint of Buddha's
feet, which must have been of phenomenal size!
One day we went over the Osaka Museum, which has probably more Buddhas
than any other museum in the world. It is a private collection near the
Embassy, and contains some superb red lacquers, all very well arranged.
It was interesting to note that the porcelains were tied to the shelves,
on account of earthquakes.
One of the most popular resorts, Uyeno Park, which is well known for its
temples and the tombs of the shoguns, is on very high ground and has a
fine view. An immense stone lantern--one of the three largest in
Japan--is there, and also an ancient pagoda and some fine cryptomerias.
During the season people visit this park in hundreds to see the cherry
blossoms.
The tombs of the Forty-Seven Ronins must be visited, so much has been
written about the brave band, and their dramatic story is so often told
in Japan. Under the huge cryptomerias on the side of a hill, one comes
to the many stone lanterns surrounding a sort of court, where their
admirers still place lighted incense sticks and leave their visiting
cards on the dead heroes. By the path leading to the tombs the well
where the Ronins washed the head of their victim still exists.
Briefly told, their story is as follows: In April of the year 1701,
Asano, Lord of Ako, while in Tokyo with the Shogun, was asked to arrange
one of the great State ceremonies. Now, Asano was a warrior, and knew
little of such matters, so he questioned a nobleman named Kira, who was
well versed in Court etiquette. It did not occur to Asano that he was
expected to pay for the information, and when he failed to do so, Kira
jeered at him, and one day insulted him by asking him to fasten his
_tabi_, or footgear. Stirred to anger, Asano drew his sword and slashed
the nobleman, without, however, killing him.
Unfortunately, this happened in the palace grounds. To fight in such a
sacred place is a crime, and Asano was told that as a punishment he must
perform _hara-kiri_, which he immediately did. Asano's castle was
confiscated and his family declared extinct, so that his faithful
retainers became _ronin_, or "wave men"--wanderers.
Oishi, the head retainer, consulted with forty-six of the most trusted
of the band, and they swore vengeance on Kira, who had brought about
their master's death. In time the forty-six became trades-people, while
Oishi himself pretended dissipation in order to put Kira off the track.
But they did not forget their oath of vengeance, and two years later,
during a severe snowstorm, the Forty-Seven Ronins made an attack upon
Kira and his retainers, and succeeded in vanquishing them.
As Kira was a great noble, he was given the privilege of performing
_hara-kiri_, but he was afraid to kill himself, and so Oishi murdered
him. As the Forty-Seven Ronins marched through the streets with the head
of their enemy, the people came out of their houses and cheered. Oishi
laid Kira's head upon the grave of Asano. Official sentence condemned
all the Ronins to commit _hara-kiri_,[3] and they have been worshipped
as heroes ever since.
[3] _Hara-kiri_ is an honourable form of capital punishment, is
also a popular method of suicide. The man who is about to
die invites his friends to share in a farewell feast. Robed
in white, he takes leave of them and enters a screened
enclosure, where he proceeds to disembowel himself with a
knife. A friend who acts as a sort of second stands by and
with a keen sword puts an end to his agony by cutting off
his head.
CHAPTER IV
COURT FUNCTIONS
Naturally, the most interesting event of the winter was our audience and
luncheon at Court. We started from the Embassy at half-past ten in the
morning. My husband was accompanied by his immediate Staff, in full
evening dress, and all wearing mourning bands on their arms--the Naval
and Military Attachés, of course, were in full-dress uniform. L. went
off in a State carriage of gold and black, sent by the Emperor, with a
Court dignitary to conduct him to the palace, and an escort of the
Imperial Lancers on horseback, bearing pennants of red and white, the
Imperial colours. Court carriages with the Secretaries and Attachés were
next in line, each one having a coachman with cockade and golden bands
on hat and livery, and two _bettos_, or running footmen.
I followed this procession in the Embassy carriage, with the Naval and
Military Attachés' wives in other vehicles behind. The coachman and the
_betto_ of the American Embassy presented quite a fine appearance in
their characteristic livery--navy-blue hats, mushroom-shaped and bearing
the eagle, and coats to match, with shoulder capes piped with red, white
and blue.
[Illustration: THE COACHMAN AND THE _BETTO_ OF THE AMERICAN EMBASSY.]
So we started on that wonderful drive through Tokyo. Down the steep
descent from the quaint, lovely garden of the Embassy we drove, the
_bettos_ holding back on the poles to help the under-sized little
horses. Two mounted soldiers fell in behind the official carriages as we
passed down the broad streets. The _bettos_ ran on ahead, and shouted
out warnings to the pedestrians, who always fill the roadways where they
are narrow, and scatter over them where they are broad. Men and women
stood still and faced the Imperial carriage as it passed, uncovering
their heads, and some even prostrating themselves on the ground; others
came out from the miniature shops to gaze; jinrikishas and trolley-cars
stopped, and people got out of them and stood respectfully; the tiny
dolls of children even looked on in wonder, and the police stood at
attention at the corners. For we were going to see the mysterious
Mikado, Son of Heaven, Heir of Two Thousand and Five Hundred Years of
Direct Descent from the Sun-Goddess. Hidden away there in his palace
behind the ramparts and moats of ancient castles, strange and far away,
he is still held sacred by his millions of people!
Every view was like a picture on a fan. We went on past the walled
residences of ancient feudal lords; past the _torii_--the "bird-rest"
gates at temple entrances--through which we caught glimpses of stone
lanterns and the wide-open fronts of picturesque shrines. Again we
passed tea-houses from which the twang of _samisen_ was heard; and left
behind us rows on rows of shops with wares of every kind exposed in
front for trade. Everywhere the men and quaint little women went
stumbling along on their clicking clogs, bowing low to one another; and
every moment through some opening of wall or entrance we could see
delightful little gardens of tree and stone and water arranged in a way
both fascinating and fanciful.
[Illustration: THE MOATS, IMPERIAL CASTLE, TOKYO.]
We came to the broad expanse before the first moat of the Imperial
castle. Beyond rose the great stone wall, grey, moss-grown and
impressive, of huge blocks like those of the Egyptian pyramids. The
branches of the grotesque overhanging pine-trees bowed down to the still
waters beneath, where the lovely lotus opens up its flowers in season
and the great leaves lie idly on the smooth surface. At the corners of
the wall rose the white, many-storied guardhouses, like pagodas with
their curving roofs. We passed through the huge gateway with its heavy
doors into a second wide space, which led to another moat and rampart of
the ancient castle fortifications, crossed another bridge, and entered
the sacred enclosure of the Imperial residence, with its imposing gate;
and finally wound round a gravel road, bordered with great trees, to the
palace entrance, a large covered porch, from which steps led toward the
reception hall. On each side stretched the palace, built in old Japanese
style, low and simple, in its wood colour and white.
Count Toda, Grand Master of Ceremonies, Count Watanabe, Minister of the
Imperial Household, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and other officials
and chamberlains met us at the entrance. With little delay the bowing
officials conducted the party through long corridors, laid with red
carpets. Here more officials in gold-braided European dress were
stationed at intervals. From the corridors we caught delightful glimpses
of large rooms with gorgeous decoration, and enjoyed the odour of
perfumed woods. The ladies were left in one reception-room and the men
gathered in another.
My husband was conducted alone to the Phoenix Hall, where he was to be
received in audience by the Emperor. Taking a few steps along the
gallery, which looked out into another delightful garden, he faced into
a square, simple Japanese room, in the middle of which stood His
Imperial Majesty, with his interpreter beside him, while at a distance
behind and on either side were gentlemen-in-waiting. Etiquette required
a low bow at the threshold and two others while approaching. The Emperor
extended his hand, and made some inquiries through his interpreter. L.
read a short speech, which was afterward translated by the interpreter,
and handed his credentials and the letter of recall of his predecessor
to the Emperor, who passed them to an aide at one side, and replied in a
very low voice through the interpreter with a few words of welcome and
assurances of the maintenance of happy relations. Then it was indicated
that the Staff might be presented. They entered, making their three bows
as they approached the Emperor, who shook the hand of each one, then
they retired backward out of the room. After they had disappeared, His
Majesty again gave his hand in token that the audience was over, and my
husband made his bows and withdrew.
After this he joined me, and we were both received by the Empress in the
Peony Hall, a small room with hardwood floors, wood carvings,
beautifully decorated walls and ceiling, but no furniture. I followed
L., courtesying at the door as he bowed, and again as the Empress gave
me her hand. The ladies with me followed in our train, also courtesying.
Her Majesty talked through an interpreter, the conversation consisting
principally of questions, such as--"How did you stand the journey across
Siberia?" "Do you not find it very cold in Japan?" "Do you enjoy
flowers?" The Empress is young, bright and very pretty. She was dressed
in deep mourning, in European style, and her hair was done in the
Western fashion. After she had spoken a few words to each one of us we
courtesied and backed to the door. Their Majesties were kind enough to
say they remembered us from our former luncheon at the palace during the
reign of the late Emperor.
In the interval between the audience and the luncheon, the latter not
occurring till half-past twelve, we drove back to the Embassy. Our "head
boy" told us it was customary to have a glass of champagne upon
returning from such a function, so we had some wine and biscuit, which
the Master of Ceremonies and the officer in command of the escort were
invited to share with us. Then we all went out and were photographed by
all kinds of cameras levelled by an army of photographers--as that
seemed to be the custom, too.
When we returned to the palace, we were conducted into the vast Room of
One Thousand Seeds, which, like the Peony Hall, had no chairs; but the
ceiling was magnificently carved and there were beautiful panels and
vases of flowers. Different members of the Imperial family came in, the
men in uniform, the ladies in black European gowns and hats. As the
luncheon was to be informal, frock coats were worn by the men of the
Embassy in place of evening clothes. I was then presented to the
Emperor, who was in khaki uniform, and seemed alert and interested in
everything, and we followed Their Majesties into the large dining-room
near-by.
This room was also vast and spacious, with glass on one side through
which we looked out into the garden. The table was set in handsome
European style for thirty or forty persons, and a number of servants in
European liveries stood in impressive line behind. Their Majesties sat
together in the centre of the table, with Prince and Princess Kan-in on
their right and left.
Prince Kan-in, who was on one side of me, is a cousin of the Emperor,
young and quite good looking. Having lived in France for nine years, he
spoke French well. On the other side was Prince Katsura, who was at that
time Prime Minister and one of the strongest and best-known men in
Japan. Prince Katsura spoke a little English, but preferred German. His
German was not much better than mine, so we did not have so much
interesting conversation as we otherwise might have had. Prince Fushimi,
now quite an old man, whom we had met years ago in Boston, was there,
besides many others.
The luncheon was in European style and delicious. The table ornaments
were exquisite orchids in silver dishes. During the meal the Emperor
sent me several messages through one of the gentlemen-in-waiting, who
acted as interpreter: "Do you have orchids in America?" "Are you going
to Nikko this summer!" To my answer that I had been at Nikko, His
Majesty replied, that his Summer Palace was at Nikko, and that he hoped
we might go there again, as he felt sure we would each time see even
more beautiful things. The Emperor proposed my husband's health by
lifting his glass and drinking, and L. rose, lifted his, and drank to
the Emperor. Then His Majesty pledged me, and I rose, and drank to him
in return. At the close of the luncheon charming silver bonbon boxes in
old Japanese designs, such as the _hibachi_ and the _kago_, or
sedan-chair, and bearing the Imperial crest, were offered us as
souvenirs. We were each delighted to select one of these attractive
mementoes.
After luncheon we returned again to the Hall of One Thousand Seeds,
followed by the high officials of the Imperial Household. Here my
husband and I conversed more intimately with Their Majesties.
Conversation was carried on in a whisper through the interpreter, for
Japanese Court etiquette requires that the voice be never raised while
talking with the Emperor and Empress. Then the Imperial party withdrew,
and the rest of us were left to pass out at leisure and view with
interest and pleasure the rooms through which we were conducted,
visiting the large, simple Throne Room on the way. So this extraordinary
experience came to an end, and remains a dream, wonderful, seemingly
unreal. The day after the audience we went over to the palace, and
signed our names in the Imperial books.
The reigning Emperor is the one hundred and twenty-fourth of his line.
It is said that he wishes to travel beyond his kingdom, but although the
Japanese people themselves seek to be up to date and familiar with the
ways of the Western world, many of them do not wish their ruler to be
so, and therefore do not quite approve of his taking so much interest in
foreigners. In his boyhood the Emperor went to school and seemed quite
well and strong; it is said, however, that he is rather delicate now.
Even then he was astonishingly democratic in his ideas. They tell a
story that, when a boy, while out driving one day, he saw a man on the
corner of a street selling cookies, and said that he wished to have
some. Other cookies were made like them and given to him, but he refused
them. Nothing would do but he must have those sold by the old man on the
corner. In vain the attendants argued that those cookies were only made
for common people, for human beings--members of the Imperial family are
supposed to be divine--the boy said that if human beings and the common
people could eat them, he could eat them, too. So the cakes were finally
bought, and no doubt he enjoyed them.
The beautiful new palace on the edge of the city, at Akasaka, is a fine
building in good European style, much like the palace in Brussels. Here
the garden parties take place. The present Emperor has never lived in
it, preferring his Japanese palace on the same grounds, which he
considers more wholesome, and where he lived as Crown Prince. Audiences
are still held, as in his father's time, in the old palace, which has
been done over somewhat since the death of the late Emperor.
After our audience and luncheon at Court, we were received also by
several of the Imperial Princes and Princesses at their palaces. To
these visits we went in our own automobile, our chauffeur and footman
wearing caps with the American eagle and gold braid on the visor, and
little shoulder-straps of gold that made them look suitably
ambassadorial. Sometimes we took Osame on the box instead of the
footman, so that he might straighten matters out in case of difficulty,
as the footman and the chauffeur did not speak a word but Japanese. In
his frock coat and top hat he looked quite properly funereal. My husband
went in his evening dress, and I wore black. The houses were usually
quite European, but were somewhat bare inside, with a little
old-fashioned European furniture. As we entered, we were greeted by
several officials-in-waiting in fine uniforms, and then were almost
immediately received, quite in the same fashion as by the Emperor and
Empress, except that we were asked to sit down.
One day the Prince and Princess Kan-in received us. The Nagasakis were
in attendance and acted as interpreters. They spoke excellent English.
We had known them before, and had found them especially agreeable. Mr.
Nagasaki is Court Councillor and Master of Ceremonies, as well as Lord
Steward to His Imperial Highness, Prince Kan-in. Prince Kan-in's palace
is a large modern house with fine grounds, surrounded by a splendid
old-fashioned wall and entered by a great old-time gate. It was rather
cold and bare inside, but the Aide and the Master of Ceremonies in their
gold regalia gave bright touches of colour.
The second princess who received us was the wife of Prince Asaka and
daughter of the late Emperor. Again the officer in attendance had been
educated in England and was a man of the world. As at Court, the women
were in European dress and in deep mourning with jet jewelry. The
conversation, as usual, was more or less about flowers, the weather and
the journey.
Later, we were received at Prince Higashi Fushimi's, whose house we
found Japanese in style and especially charming. The room where we were
received, however, had been arranged for the comfort of foreigners, as
it contained a sofa, a table and chairs. Prince Fushimi, who is an
admiral in the navy, was in London with the Princess at the time of the
Coronation. Both spoke English very well. A card was sent to us as a
return visit within half an hour after each diplomatic audience, as is
required by Japanese etiquette.
An important function, which the Diplomatic Corps missed on account of
the mourning for the late Emperor, was the New Year reception at Court.
At this the ladies wear beautiful long court trains hung from the
shoulders, such as are worn at the Court of St. James. I was told that
the diplomats are first conducted to the Throne Room, a large hall,
where two chairs are arranged upon a raised dais, much as at European
courts. Here they march in the precedence of embassies and legations
past the Emperor and Empress on their thrones, then past all the
Imperial Highnesses, bowing and courtesying to each one. After this, in
a smaller room they are served with tea, coffee and cakes, and receive
lovely gifts as souvenirs. Finally, in still another room, they are
received by Their Majesties and the other Imperial personages in a more
special way.
Among Court recreations in which the Diplomatic Corps are invited to
join, is the Imperial duck-catching party, held in gardens near Tokyo in
the spring. By decoy ducks the wild birds are lured into little canals,
on either side of which stand those who take part in the sport, holding
large nets with long handles high in the air. All are silent and alert,
and as soon as a duck takes flight, the netter dashes forward and, if
expert, entangles a bird in the net. This sport is a combination of
snaring and hawking, for if a bird escapes the hunter, it is likely to
be killed by the hawk chained to the hunter's wrist, which is then set
free. Afterward luncheon is served, a delicious duck stew being the
principal feature, and the guests return home laden with the birds they
have succeeded in catching.
The official celebration of the Emperor's birthday includes several
imposing Court functions. When my husband was in Japan in 1889,
earthquakes, reviews and events of all kinds were provided for His
Imperial Majesty's thirty-sixth anniversary. First, they were treated to
three seismic shocks within twenty-four hours, and of quite perceptible
violence. Then there was the Grand Review of troops by the Emperor at
the cheerful hour of half after eight in the morning.
My husband thus describes it: "Aoyama, the 'Champ de Mars' of Tokyo, is
a tremendously large parade ground, which was simply walled in by the
mass of plebeians that had turned out to do honour to the occasion. For
the foreigners the 'high seats' had been reserved in the diplomatic tent
next to the Imperial stand. The Emperor, followed by the Lancers and a
gorgeous Staff, made a tour of the field, and then the troops passed in
review before him. They were about ten thousand in number, and made a
really excellent appearance; the marching and order were good, at times
very good. The cavalry appeared rather awkward, but this was due to the
brutish little horses more than anything else."
"In the evening there was the grand ball at the 'Rokumeikan,' given by
Count Okuma, then Minister of Foreign Affairs, in honour of the
Emperor's anniversary, which starts the social whirl of the capital for
the season. It was an elegant affair, and from the good taste and good
management, it might well have been in Paris. The grounds were
beautifully decorated with lanterns and coloured lights, and the
building was superb inside with bunting and flowers, the national
chrysanthemum being used with excellent effect. The uniforms and
decorations of the guests added brilliancy and movement. There were
almost as many foreigners as Japanese, and nearly all the latter were in
European dress, only a few ladies wearing the native costume. Those in
European gowns carried them off exceedingly well, and danced waltzes and
quadrilles in most approved Western manner."
The present Emperor's anniversary, as I have learned from a letter, was
celebrated in 1913 in much the same way as his predecessor's more than
twenty years ago--with one important exception, the three earthquake
shocks were omitted! The day began with the review of the soldiers at
Aoyama, after which congratulatory poems were presented to His Majesty
by the Empress and the Empress Dowager.[4] The Emperor then received the
Imperial Princes and Princesses, and entertained them at luncheon.
[4] The Dowager Empress of Japan died of heart disease at the
Imperial Villa Nowazu, April 9th, 1914. She was the widow of
Emperor Mutsuhito, who died July 30th, 1912. The Empress
Dowager was born May 28th, 1858, and was married to the late
Emperor in 1869. She was the daughter of a nobleman,
Icliejo-Tadado, and was greatly beloved by the Japanese
people.
The birthday dinner in the evening was followed by the ball given by the
Minister of Foreign Affairs, Baron Makino, at his official residence.
Here were princesses of the blood in white gowns and superb jewels,
Japanese ladies in kimonos, ladies of the Corps Diplomatique in European
costume, priests in their varied robes, and diplomats and attaches in
gorgeous uniforms. It was a brilliant scene. The rooms were lighted by
electricity and decorated with a profusion of chrysanthemums and the
Imperial crest in gold. Long clusters of wisteria depending from the
ceiling sparkled with electric bulbs, and in the supper-room the guests
were seated at tables under the branches of artificial cherry-trees
blossoming in the Emperor's honour.
Some account of our previous reception at Court by the late Emperor and
Empress may be of interest. It took place when we passed through Japan
in the company of the American Secretary of War, Mr. Dickinson, on the
way to the Philippines in 1910. At that time we crossed the Pacific to
the Land of the Rising Sun.
[Illustration: THE LATE EMPEROR.]
News had been received while at sea by aerogram from the Embassy that
the Imperial Mikado and the Empress would grant an audience and
entertain at luncheon at the palace, but there was much doubt as to what
this really meant, for the audience might be only for the Secretary and
Mrs. Dickinson. So the pleasure and surprise were all the greater when,
on arrival, it was found that those accompanying the Secretary were to
be included in both functions.
The invitations, in Japanese characters, were handed to us with many
others on our arrival, but had already been formally answered at the
American Embassy. The instructions were the same then as they are to-day
as to costume and etiquette. They indicated that the ladies were to wear
high-necked dresses with trains and hats, and the men were to be in
uniform or full dress. On the morning of the sixteenth (of July), we all
met at the Embassy at eleven o'clock--as the audience was due at
noon--and placed ourselves in the hands of the Ambassador.
Two Imperial carriages conveyed the important official members of the
party to the palace, and the rest proceeded in vehicles hired for the
occasion.
After the men of the party were presented to the Emperor, in the manner
already described, they rejoined the ladies, and all were introduced to
the lady-in-waiting, Countess Kagawa, and then conducted to Her
Majesty's audience hall. Mrs. O'Brien, the wife of the Ambassador,
preceded, making low courtesies; the ladies followed.
The Emperor, who was in uniform, appeared older than we had expected.
Her Majesty was several years older than the Emperor, and had charming
manners, but she did not smile. Expression, we were informed, is not
considered aristocratic. Her hair and dress were in European fashion,
and she wore beautiful pearls. She had no children--the present Mikado
is the only son of Emperor Meiji by another wife.
Some stories that are told of the late Emperor show how much real
strength of character he possessed. A few years ago, it is said, when a
plot against His Majesty's life was discovered, the Prime Minister went
to him and offered his resignation, saying that as this plot had been
brought to light while he was in office (the first plot against any
Mikado in the history of Japan), he felt that perhaps his administration
had not been good. The Emperor, however, would not accept his
resignation, saying that if the people wished to take his life, it must
be his fault--it must show that he had not been a good ruler.
Accordingly, he ordered only twelve of the twenty-four offenders to be
put to death.
In his last illness, owing to the old belief that his person was too
sacred to be touched, even the doctors were not allowed to come in
contact with him, his pulse being counted by a silken cord about his
wrist. The Empress was at his bedside when he died. The only person who
ever entered his apartment, I was told, was Prince Ito, who came on some
urgent affair of state in response to a telephone message from the
Emperor himself. The Prince was admitted before the Mikado was dressed
in the morning. Even on the greatest occasions, however, he was never
really well dressed, because no one was permitted to fit his clothes,
lest a mere human being should touch his person.
Yet the life of the late Emperor, secluded though he was within his
palace walls, was freedom itself in comparison with that of the ancient
rulers. In olden times, so Hearn writes, "His (the Mikado's) feet were
never permitted to touch the ground out of doors, nor was he allowed to
cut his hair, beard or nails, or to expose himself to the rays of the
sun." His only excursions outside the walls of his palace were made in a
large _norimono_, or palanquin, borne by fourteen men, in which, behind
the latticed windows, he was able to catch glimpses of the outer world
while himself invisible. Even if he granted an audience, he was never
seen, his person being completely hidden by bamboo screens.
The emperors of ancient days were allowed to have three consorts besides
the Empress, also nine maids of high rank and twenty-seven maids of
lower rank, all of whom were known as wives. In addition to these, he
was at liberty to have eighty-one concubines. Only one of the wives
ranked as empress, but the twelve next below her had each a palace near
that of the Emperor. By way of contrast, it is said that the present
Emperor has never loved any woman but the Empress. The Mikado's eldest
daughter was in olden times appointed chief priestess of the Temple of
the Sun, at Ise.
* * * * *
Somewhat in contrast with my husband's experiences were those of
America's first Ambassador to Japan, Mr. Townsend Harris, as he has
related them in his journal. After his arrival in Japan and many weary
months of waiting at Shimoda, he wrote September 25th, 1857, "I am to go
to Yedo (now Tokyo) in the most honourable manner; and after my arrival
I am to have an audience of the Shogun, and then present the letter of
the President!!"
"The manner in which I am to salute the Shogun," he adds, "is to be the
same as in the courts of Europe, that is, three bows. They made a faint
request that I would prostrate myself and 'knock-head,' but I told them
the mentioning such a thing was offensive to me."
After two months spent in preparation for the journey, Mr. Harris with
an imposing retinue started for Yedo, about one hundred miles away.
As a part of the preparation for his journey, "Bridges had been built
over every stream," he tells us, "the pathway mended, and all the bushes
cut away so as to leave the path clear." At one place the road had
actually been _swept_ only a few hours before the procession passed over
it. All along the way the people stood motionless in front of their
houses, and all the shops but the cook shops were closed. The
magistrates of each village conducted Mr. Harris to the borders of the
next, prostrating themselves in salute as they left. The Government had
also ordered that there should be no travel over the Tokaido, the
Eastern Sea Road, during his journey.
In Yedo the American Envoy was domiciled in the "Court" section of the
city, and eight _daimyos_ were appointed as "Commissioners of the voyage
of the American Ambassador to Yedo." Another week was passed in
receiving and paying visits of ceremony, and in arranging matters of
detail. Mr. Harris received as a present from the Shogun seventy pounds
of Japanese bonbons beautifully arranged in four trays.
On December 7th, at ten o'clock in the morning, our Ambassador set out
for his audience of the Shogun. "My dress," he says, "was a coat
embroidered with gold after the pattern furnished by the State
Department, blue pantaloons with a broad gold band running down each
leg, cocked hat with gold tassels, and a pearl-handled dress sword." He
was escorted by the same retinue that he had had during the journey. He
was carried in his _norimono_ up to the last bridge in front of the
audience hall, and before entering this building he put on a new pair of
patent leather shoes. The Japanese, of course, went in their _tabis_.
After a time he was led to the audience hall, past a number of
_daimyos_, seated in Japanese fashion, who saluted by touching their
foreheads to the mat. The Prince of Shinano, Master of Ceremonies, then
threw himself on his hands and knees, and Mr. Harris stood behind him,
with Mr. Heusken in the rear bearing the President's letter.
At a given signal, the Prince crawled forward on hands and knees, and as
Mr. Harris followed and entered the hall of audience, a chamberlain
called out, "Embassador Merican!" With the prescribed three bows at
intervals, he advanced toward the throne, before which the members of
the Great Council lay prostrate on their faces. Pausing a few seconds,
Mr. Harris then addressed the Tai-kun--as he had been instructed to call
the Shogun--expressing the good wishes of the President.
"After a short silence," says Mr. Harris, "the Tai-kun began to jerk his
head backward over his left shoulder, at the same time stamping with his
right foot. This was repeated three or four times.[5] After this he
spoke audibly and in a pleasant and firm voice," expressing his pleasure
in the Ambassador's speech, and graciously adding, "Intercourse shall be
continued for ever."
[5] I have been told that Mr. Harris _shouted_ in delivering his
address to the Shogun, who, perhaps, had never before heard
anyone speak above a whisper.
Mr. Harris then presented the President's letter, after which he
withdrew, as he had entered, with three bows.
Mr. Harris' description of the Shogun himself is of interest: "The
Tai-kun was seated in a chair placed on a platform raised about two feet
from the floor, and from the ceiling in front of him a grass curtain was
hung; when unrolled, it would reach the floor, but it was now rolled up,
and was kept in its place by large silk cords with heavy tassels. By an
error in their calculation, the curtain was not rolled up high enough to
enable me to see his headdress, as the roll formed by the curtain cut
through the centre of his forehead, so that I cannot fully describe his
'crown,' as the Japanese called it. The dress of the Tai-kun was made of
silk, and the material had some little gold wove in with it, but it was
as distant from anything like regal splendour as could be conceived; no
rich jewels, no elaborate gold ornaments; no diamond-hilted weapon
appeared.... The Japanese told me his crown is a black lacquered cap, of
an inverted bell shape."
Two years later Mr. Heusken, Mr. Harris' secretary, was assassinated,
and his own house was burned. But Mr. Harris never wavered. Dignified,
firm, self-respecting, he was always the kind, patient teacher of the
Japanese in the ways of the outside world, winning from them the title
which they love to give him--"the nation's friend." He was a great
diplomat, but his was a strikingly human and Christian diplomacy. He
laid the foundations for America's subsequent dealings with Japan so
deep in the bedrock of justice and mutual forbearance that the
superstructure has never yet been shaken. Our own personal experiences
were pleasanter because Townsend Harris had led the way.
CHAPTER V
LIFE IN TOKYO
Our diplomatic visits were made within two days of our arrival, as
etiquette requires. My first visit was on the Doyenne of the Diplomatic
Corps, Marchesa Guiccioli. The French Ambassador was Doyen, but as he
was not married the Italian Ambassadress was the first lady of the
Corps. When our diplomatic calls had been made and returned, we returned
those made by the American colony in Tokyo and Yokohama.
During the winter the ladies of the Diplomatic Corps decided to have a
day "at home" each week. The period of second mourning for the late
Emperor had begun, and we all dressed in black and white. Dinners and
calling among the diplomats continued, but the official dinners between
the Japanese and the foreigners did not take place on account of the
mourning.
The diplomatic dinners were always large affairs of twenty or thirty
people, and quite formal, with the host and hostess sitting in foreign
fashion at the centre of the table, the ends filled in with young
secretaries. There were but few women present, for many of the diplomats
in Tokyo were not married. Occasionally we found one or two Japanese at
these dinners, but not often, owing to the official mourning. They might
have been given in Europe or anywhere, except for a touch of the East in
the costumes of the servants and the curios about the house.
To show how a Japanese lady or gentleman answers an Ambassador's
invitation, I give literal translations of two responses which are quite
typical.
"WORSHIPFULLY ADDRESSED.
"Having received upon my head the honourable loving invitation
of the coming 25th day, I humbly regard it as the extremity of
glory. Referring thereto, in the case of the rustic wife there
being unavoidably a previous engagement, although with regret,
(she) is humbly unable to ascend; consequently the little
student one person, humbly accepting, will go to the honourable
residence. Rapidly, rapidly, worshipfully bowing.
"Great Justice, 2d year, 2d moon, 19th day.
American Ambassador,
Beneath the Mansion.
Honourable Lady,
Beneath the Mansion."
"WORSHIPFULLY REPORTING.
"Having received upon my head the
honourable loving invitation to the
banquet of the honourable holding on
the coming 25th day, thankfully, joyfully,
humbly shall I worshipfully run.
However, in the matter of ----, although
regretting, (he) humbly declines.
The right hand (fact) upon
receiving (he) at once wishes humbly
to decline. It is honourably thus. Respectfully
bowing.
"Second moon, 20th day.
American Ambassador, Mr. Anderson,
Beneath the Mansion."
Our first reception was attended by most of the diplomats, some of the
American colony, and a few Japanese. In American fashion I had the
ladies of the Embassy pour tea at the large table in the dining-room.
There were over a hundred and fifty guests in all, many coming from
Yokohama. On another of our days at home a huge shipload of tourists
from the _Cleveland_ arrived, which made the afternoon quite gay. They
began to arrive half an hour before time, much to their dismay. It seems
that they had been put into 'rickshas and their coolies instructed to
take them to the Embassy, but when they got there they could not make
the 'ricksha-men understand that they were early and wanted to drive
about a bit until three. When my husband came down-stairs they had
camped outside in the snow, which had fallen quite heavily the day
before; he heard them talking, and, of course, asked them in at once.
One afternoon we entertained some American and English women. I was
quite amused when a missionary's wife came up to me, wagging her head
and looking very solemn about something.
"I suppose you did not know," she said, "that the singer is a very
naughty man."
"No, I didn't," I answered; "but I don't quite know what I can do about
it--" and I'm afraid I wagged my head, too, as I added, "Don't you think
we can reform him, perhaps?"
She must have seen the twinkle in my eye, for she laughed and said she
didn't believe we could. We agreed that he sang very well indeed.
Our last big reception was held at the Embassy on Washington's Birthday.
We had some souvenirs made in Japanese style, little black lacquer ash
trays with the crest of the United States in gilt upon them for the men
and fans also decorated with the crest for the ladies. A good many of
the missionaries came, not only from Tokyo and Yokohama, but also from
the interior.
On St. Valentine's day I took some presents out to Watanabe's house,
where I had asked all the children of the compound to gather. There were
about a dozen of them, sitting on mats and making a very pretty group.
They had put a carpet over the mat, so I did not have to take off my
shoes, and a chair was procured for me to sit in. Then I told Osame to
translate and tell them how, on St. Valentine's day, people in America
send each other verses--sometimes love-verses, sometimes comic
verses--but that as I couldn't write any in Japanese for them I had
brought some little gifts instead. The children all bowed to the ground,
and were very, very respectful--much better behaved than young people at
home! They seemed to be pleased, and after giving each one his present I
withdrew, telling Watanabe to give them tea and cake or whatever they
wanted. But pretty soon he asked if they might come into the Embassy and
thank us. So they filed in, bowing again, and sang a little Japanese
song to my husband and myself, which was all quite touching. We showed
them a toy tiger we had bought in Paris that would spring and jump when
wound up, and a bear that would drink water, both of which delighted
them greatly. After a while, bowing once again, they departed.
We made some very pleasant friends in Japan. Among others we met
Baroness Sonnomiya, who is herself English but married to a Japanese.
During her husband's lifetime she had great power, as she was the
intimate friend of the Empress Dowager. There were also Dr. Nitobe and
his wife, who were among the most delightful people we met. I enjoyed
his books thoroughly, as well as his address before the Japanese Peace
Society, which met at the Embassy.
This gathering had its amusing side, because the president of the
Society had made most of his money selling guns! Moreover, before I
realized that it was the Peace Society which was coming to the Embassy,
I had invited the Naval Attaché's wife and an army officer's wife to
pour tea! Just at that moment it hardly looked as if the cause of peace
was making much headway in the world, for while we were talking about
it, terrible battles were being fought in Turkey, the City of Mexico was
under bombardment, and there was talk of fighting between Austria and
Russia.
One day I called on Madame Ozaki, whom I had met in Italy when she was
Marion Crawford's secretary. Her mother was English, her father
Japanese; she is very pretty and writes charming stories. After living
in Europe for a number of years she returned to her father in Japan and
taught school, finally marrying Mr. Ozaki, one of Japan's most
conspicuous politicians to-day. When I called on her I found her dressed
in European style, but she had the true Japanese reserve; in fact was
much more Japanese than I had expected after her many years abroad. Her
house was partly European, but when the _shoji_ was thrown aside, the
little maid who received us bowed to the ground in true native fashion.
Madame Ozaki did not speak of politics, although her husband had just
made an attack on Katsura, who had been for the moment overthrown. It
was said that she had received threatening letters warning her and her
husband to flee to England.
At this time of political upheaval a curious article appeared in the
paper to the effect that three men had attended their own funeral
services, which they wished to hold because they were about to start on
a dangerous expedition. It was suggested that perhaps they might be
going to take some prominent man's life, but nothing happened, so far as
we knew, until spring, when Mr. Abe, of the Foreign Office, was
murdered.
In order to explain the political situation in Japan as we found it, I
am obliged to touch briefly on the political changes during the last
fifty years,--that is, since the time of feudalism.
After Commodore Perry's visit, the Tokugawa government, whose shoguns
had been the real rulers of the country for more than two centuries and
a half, decided to open the ports to foreigners, while officials at the
Imperial Court of the Mikado desired to continue the policy of
exclusion. Finally the reigning Shogun was brought to see that it would
be better for the country to have but one ruler, and resigned in favour
of the Mikado. This inaugurated the wonderful Meiji Era--the era of the
late Emperor.
Since they had always been men of action, it was the clever _samurai_,
rather than the old nobles, who found a chance to show their ability
under the new régime. They became prominent in both the Upper and Lower
Councils, which were based somewhat on feudalism, and yet showed
strongly the influence of Western ideas.
Political questions were freely discussed, political parties appeared,
and the first conventions were held. The first cabinet was formed in
1885, with Prince Ito as Premier.
The Administration was divided into ten departments:--The Imperial
Household, Foreign Affairs, Interior, Finance, Army and Navy, Justice,
Education, Agriculture, Commerce, and Communications. A Minister of
State was appointed head of each department. The Empire was divided into
provinces, each ruled by a governor. In 1890 a national assembly was
granted, and the first Diet was convened.
The government to-day is Conservative, and is controlled by the _Genro_,
the elder statesmen. The Progressive party, the Seyukai, is led by
Ozaki. The Socialists make a good deal of noise, but are still far from
powerful; their opposition to the Russian war weakened their influence
greatly. The Socialist party in Japan was largely responsible for the
recent anti-American demonstrations.
For many years Prince Ito was considered the ablest man in the country.
Okubo and Okuma were also noted leaders, while Prince Katsura, in recent
times, held great power. Katsura was quite unpopular with the people
while we were in Japan. It was felt that he had delayed a meeting of the
Diet in order to form a party which would be stronger and at the same
time more completely under his control. Each time when the assembly was
postponed by a command from the Emperor, the blame was placed on
Katsura. Finally Yamamoto was chosen to form a cabinet, which took a
long time to do on account of the different parties. Ozaki, as head of
the Progressives, wished to dictate to Yamamoto, but the latter would
not comply, so things came to a standstill. People seemed to think that
Ozaki was going too far, and that he had better take half a loaf instead
of insisting upon a whole one. It appeared that the Japanese were not as
yet advanced enough for his ideas, or else that he was too advanced for
theirs. Later on, his party yielded somewhat, and Yamamoto made up his
cabinet with Ozaki left out.
After the trouble had all blown over, people said that it had all been
worked out by clever Katsura. If this is true, it was one of his last
achievements, for the Prince, who is considered the greatest Premier
Japan ever had, died in October, 1913. His career was an interesting
one. His father belonged to the _samurai_ class, and the boy, Katsura
Taro, became a staff officer when only twenty-one. During the
Franco-Prussian war he was in Germany studying military tactics. Later
he was given charge of the reorganizing and modernizing of the Japanese
army. The success of the Japanese in the Chinese and Russian wars is
attributed to his genius and to his "silent and unrewarded toil." Only
after the battle of the Yalu, when he was made viscount, did his work
begin to be appreciated. Later he was created prince. After the Chinese
war he changed from soldier to statesman--was four times Prime Minister,
and "almost a whole cabinet in himself."
Internal politics do not run any more smoothly in Japan than they do in
our own country. On account of the frequent changes of cabinet there was
often rioting in front of the Diet during the winter we were at the
Embassy. Newspaper offices were attacked and burned, and the mob seemed
to have an especial grudge against the police, who were hardly able to
cope with the situation. Hearing that there was rioting near the Embassy
one evening after dinner, several of us walked to a _matsuri_ not far
away, but the crowd was dispersing when we arrived, and only the
policeman's sentry-box, which was overturned, remained to tell the tale.
* * * * *
Clubs are an important element in our modern civilization, and
especially for foreigners in the Orient, where bachelors so greatly
predominate--I believe the proportion is even more than that of forlorn
damsels in Massachusetts. At Yokohama there are two organizations, the
Yokohama United and a German club, besides the two American societies,
the Asiatic and the Columbia.
The Tokyo Club has the reputation of being the most charming in the
East. It is splendidly situated on a hill near the American Embassy. The
charges are moderate, and the service is generally good. Japanese as
well as Europeans belong to it. While we were in Tokyo my husband was
invited to become the foreign vice-president, the president being an
Imperial Prince. At first he begged off, but a committee of the club
visited him and urged him to accept the office, saying that the Japanese
were anxious to pay our country a compliment. The Tokyo Club is more
than a register of social prominence in the city--it is also important
as a political barometer, and this polite insistence upon L.'s accepting
the place was, in its way, a tribute to America.
Many adventurers come to the East to seek their fortunes, and one hears
strange stories, tragic or romantic as the case may be. A lover waits on
the dock for his fiancée on the steamer, only to find that she has
decided at the last moment to marry another whom she has met on the
voyage; a wife returns from a long vacation at home to find her husband
consoling himself with a _geisha_; a father who comes out to look for
his son discovers him deep in debt and drinking himself to death. Such
are a few of the many tales we heard.
Some differences in social customs may be noted here. It is polite, for
instance, to remove your shoes at the door on entering a Japanese home.
After you have entered it is only polite, as well as modest, to remain
near the door! When you are offered tea or anything of the sort, it must
be twice declined, but the third time it may be accepted.
In conversation one must exalt the person addressed, while everything
belonging to the speaker must be held of no value at all. A father, on
taking a bright boy to the teacher, would naturally say, "O honourable
teacher, here is my idiot son!" And a mother, no matter how deeply she
may feel the death of a child, must shed no tears but continue to smile
and say, "Oh--child no good!"
What Hearn says about poetry is also true of the Japanese smile. When in
danger, smile; when angry, smile; when sad, smile; in fact, it is
etiquette always to smile! In so many ways the Japanese are an admirable
race, and in none more so than in this. Their instincts are all for good
taste and good manners.
Speaking of manners--of course, standards vary. It used to be a common
thing in the country villages to see men and women bathing together in
large tanks, but as Westerners disapproved of this custom, a few years
ago an order went forth that men and women bathing together must put on
suits. The result is that to-day they sit on the edge of the tank, or on
the seashore, and dress and undress as they have always done, before one
another, and wonder why they are obliged to put on bathing-suits when
they go into the water! But an order is an order, they say, and must be
obeyed.
In 1897, when we were in Japan, foreign clothes and top-hats were very
popular, and to-day queer combinations of clothes are still noticeable.
The foreign cap is much worn by the men, and a sort of loose-sleeved
overcoat of English cloth, like an opera coat, is used in winter, worn
over the kimono. But the _tabis_, or linen socks made like a mitten, and
the clogs, are worn as before, while often an unmounted fur skin is
wrapped about the neck. People well dressed in European clothes are
called "high-collared"--in fact, this expression is applied to almost
anything that is Western and modern. Many of the men who have been
abroad are very correctly and smartly clad, but they usually put on a
Japanese costume in the evening, for they call the European dress an
"uncomfortable bag."
Some of the "high-collared" Japanese have at least one meal a day in
European style, and part of the house is usually devoted to foreign
furniture. They also believe that milk and meat should be eaten in order
to make the race grow larger. Most of the men are anxious to learn
Western ideas, and take great pride in showing inventions that have been
introduced. They consider themselves quite up to date, and so they are
in many ways.
When my husband was first in Japan, in 1889, a woman's highest desire
was to wear European clothes, and if she could hire a costume and be
photographed in it, she was perfectly happy. But I do not think they
feel like that to-day. The novelty has worn off. Besides, Japanese
dressmaking is a very simple matter; a kimono is made of straight
breadths of cloth basted together. Compared with that, the plainest
Western frock must offer many problems.
It is certainly better for us not to attempt to talk Japanese, for if
one cannot speak it well it is safer not to try at all. One is very
liable to address a nobleman in the language of a coolie, or to mystify
a servant by speaking to him in the tongue of the higher classes--there
are three ways of making a remark, according to the rank of the person
addressed! No one can believe the difficulties of the language till he
has tried it. To master it in any degree requires years of study.
To illustrate this I will quote from Dr. Gordon, the missionary, who
gives a bit of dialogue between teacher and pupil during a lesson. "The
pupil says,'The child likes _meshi_.' 'No,' says his mentor, 'in
speaking of a child's rice it is better to use the word _mama_--the
child likes _mama_.' Undiscouraged, the student tries again: 'Do you eat
_meshi_?' But his teacher stops him and tells him that it is polite, in
speaking to another of his having or eating rice, to call it _gozen_.
Having taken this in, the student goes on with his sentence-building:
'The merchant sells _gozen_.' Again the teacher calls a halt, and tells
him that _meshi_ and _gozen_ are used for cooked rice only, and that for
unboiled rice _kome_ is the proper word. Feeling that now he is getting
into the secrets of the language, he says, '_Kome_ grows in the fields,'
but he is again stopped with the information that growing rice is called
_ine_."
More than one scholar in European tongues has declared Japanese to be
the most difficult language in the world. One has said that a man "can
learn to understand as much of Spanish in six months as he can of
Japanese in six years." Chinese ideographs are said to outnumber the
Japanese characters to-day, and in numerous instances have actually
displaced them, even among the common people. Many characters have two
meanings and only in combination can you know which is intended. There
are no pronouns in the language, nor are there any "swear-words" or
imperatives, the people are so polite.
Family names are also very confusing--to the Japanese themselves, I
should think, as well as to us--because of the frequency of adoption.
Each family feels that it must have an heir to take care of the aged
members while they live and to pray for them when they die, so a child
is adopted and given the patronymic. Blood doesn't seem to count at all,
for even if a son is born later, it is the adopted child who inherits.
Sometimes children brought up in foreign countries take foreign names. A
naval officer told me of a charming Japanese girl whom he knew, named
Bessie. One day she confided to him that she was going to marry Charlie.
"Marry your brother!" exclaimed the astounded officer. "Yes," replied
Bessie sweetly, "you not know--I not father's real child, and Charlie
not father's real child. Charlie and I, we no relation--both adopted!"
Adoption is not always necessary, however, for if a man has no children
he can easily divorce his wife, simply by telling her to return to her
father's house, and he may then marry another woman. The modern law also
gives this privilege of divorce to the wife, but custom is so strong
that she never leaves her husband of her own accord.
Marriages are generally arranged by the parents, with the assistance of
a mutual friend. The man and girl are allowed to see each other, but
although they are not actually forced into marriage, few would dare to
disobey their parents' wishes in the matter. They have a wedding feast,
at which the bride and groom sit on the floor facing each other. The
ceremony sometimes consists of their both drinking from a two-spouted
tea-pot. The bride is clad in a white kimono and veil, which she keeps
all her life, and wears once more when she is dead. Many presents are
received, but the gifts of the groom, which are as costly as he can
afford, are offered by the bride to her parents in gratitude for all
that they have done for her in the past.
After the wedding the husband takes his bride to his home, no doubt to
live with his father and mother. The wife must not only obey her
husband, but is also much under the rule of her mother-in-law. A man
sometimes brings his concubine into the house, and often her children as
well, and these his wife is obliged to adopt. If husband and wife
disagree, the go-between is usually consulted, and occasionally succeeds
in arranging matters.
Japanese ladies, as a rule, do not go about very much, except those who
have married foreigners or have lived abroad. A few ladies appear at
foreign dinners with their husbands, but very often the men have dinners
at which their wives do not appear. This may be partly owing to their
inability to speak English.
But, as a whole, the women have little pleasure. When the man of the
house entertains, he either takes his guests to a tea-house or calls in
a _geisha_ to help him do the honours, while his wife sits apart in a
room by herself and is neither seen nor heard. The diversions, even of
the well-to-do, are few, comprising the arrangement of flowers, the
composition of poetry, and an occasional visit to the theatre.
Women are employed in manual work, in the fields, and in the loading of
coal in the big ports, and more and more in the new industries. The
kitchen-standard of wifehood is disappearing. Last winter a woman made a
speech in public; this caused great excitement--in fact, it was said
that she was the first Japanese woman to do such a thing. In spite of
the many changes which are coming about, they are as far from being
suffragists as we were a hundred years ago. The sex as a whole are a
long way from anything like economic freedom.
A woman has recently been made bank-president in Tokyo--a quite
unheard-of innovation. She is Madame Seno, a sort of Japanese Hetty
Green. In spite of the fact that she is over seventy, she goes to her
office every morning punctually. Her tastes are very frugal. She wears
plain cotton kimonos, and travels third-class. At the outbreak of the
Russian war, however, she was the first to offer her subscription to the
Government.
The children have a very good time, spinning tops, flying kites, and
playing battledore and shuttlecock. In the life of Japan everything has
its place and period, and the children's games succeed one another in
such due order that it is almost impossible to buy the toys of one month
when the season has passed into the next month. It is extraordinary how
the little people combine their work and play, for you see a small boy
carrying a baby on his back staggering around on stilts, and another
small boy pulling a loaded cart and rolling a hoop at the same time, and
little girls with littler girls on their backs tossing balls into the
air or bouncing them in the streets. It is really an unusual thing to
see a woman or young girl in the street without a baby attached to her.
I think one of the reasons why the Japanese race has not grown larger is
because the children from a very early age carry such weights on their
backs.
[Illustration: "_Little girls with littler girls on their backs_"]
Mr. Brownell tells a story of a Japanese girl which shows the filial
duty and faithfulness that prevail. It seems she fell in love with a
foreigner, and he with her. His intentions were good, and, although he
was obliged to go away on a trip, he wrote her that he would soon be
back to make her his wife. During his absence, however, her parents
arranged another marriage for the girl, and on his return he found this
letter from her:
"SIR:--
"I am married and is called Mrs. Sodesuka, and by our Japanese
morality and my natural temperament I decline for ever your
impoliteness letter."
"SODESUKA OTOKU."
CHAPTER VI
THE GROWING EMPIRE
Although in many of her newer phases Japan is less fascinating to the
casual tourist than where she is still "unspoiled," the efforts she is
making to get into step with the rest of the world, and to solve the
problems which are confronting her, are full of interest to the student
and to the more sympathetic traveller.
To wide-awake Americans the growing Japan should be of especial
interest, since however much we believe in and hope for continued peace
between the two nations, there is bound to be more or less commercial
competition.
Where the British Islands have stood in regard to shipping and commerce
on the Atlantic, the islands of Nippon bid fair to stand on the Pacific.
Even to-day the Pacific is by no means an empty ocean, but its
development still lies largely in the future. It is the near future,
however, and Japan knows it. The Panama Canal is almost completed; China
is awakened and beginning to take active notice; Japanese colonies are
being planted in South America and elsewhere.
While many countries of the Western world are facing a falling
birth-rate, Japan's is rising rapidly. There is a tradition which
accounts for this state of affairs. It seems that there was once a
quarrel between the creators of the land, Izanami threatening his wife,
Izanagi, that he would cause the population to die off at the rate of a
thousand a day. The goddess, however, got the last word, and increased
the birth-rate to fifteen hundred a day. Apparently she has been able to
maintain the ratio to the present time--at any rate, there is an annual
gain of half a million.
With a population already averaging three hundred to every habitable
square mile, it is little wonder that the nation feels the need of
extending her boundaries and to that end is trying to open up new
territory to her emigrants.
Emigration began in 1885, when the King of Hawaii called for settlers in
his island realm. Emigration societies were organized, under the control
of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and to-day the men of Nippon greatly
outnumber the whites. The Foreign Minister still has entire charge of
the societies: he grants all passports, and sees to the proper
distribution of the thousands who every year leave their own country to
settle more or less permanently in other parts of the world. Many
emigrants go to Manchuria, Korea and Formosa, some to the Malay
Peninsula and Australia, a few to the Philippines, and an increasing
number to Central and South America. But they are a home-loving people,
and eventually three-fourths of those who go out, return to Japan to
settle down once more with their families.
Greatly to Japan's mortification, her people have been repulsed in
California. Professor Peabody of Harvard returned recently from a trip
to the Orient, and had this to say on the subject: "We accept as
citizens the off-scourings of Eastern Europe, and shut our door on the
thrifty Japanese, whose colour may be no darker and whose descent may be
from the same original stock. What nags the Japanese in the matter is
the indirect insinuation of bad blood, the intimation that a people
whose education is compulsory and self-help is universal may not prove
as serviceable elements in a commercial democracy as the average of
Syrians or Copts; that, in short, the Far East is intrinsically inferior
to the Near East." He points out that after twenty years the Japanese
hold only about one per cent. of the agricultural land in the State of
California, and that there are five thousand less of them there now than
there were three years ago, owing to a "Gentlemen's Agreement," by which
Japan limits her emigration to the United States.
This land question came up after we left Tokyo, but it naturally
interested us intensely. The Californians seem to fear the Japanese
because they live so cheaply and work so hard that it is thought they
may come in time to own the whole state.
A recent competition, with a prize offered for the best essay on the
California trouble, showed a world-wide ignorance of the real situation
and its causes. Since this was true of both American and Japanese
competitors, it seems to show that even the more educated among us need
to think and study more deeply into the problem before making up our
minds.
An extract from the _Japan Magazine_, which is published in Tokyo, shows
how men of the better class feel regarding the land question: "Japan is
not angry, but she is earnestly anxious to know whether America will
rest content to allow the California attitude to pass as national. No,
Japan is not wrathful, but she is mortified to see any section of the
country that calls itself her friend, somewhat abruptly suggest that her
absence is preferred to her presence.... Happily, the California
attitude does not represent the American people, so that Japan still has
hopes of a reconsideration and a reinstatement. On the other hand, it is
unfortunate that the majority of Japanese residents in the United States
are not really representative of Japan. Certainly the average of
emigrants going to America is not at all on an intellectual or social
equality with the average citizen at home ... they are the poorest and
most unfortunate of their countrymen, and would never have left home if
they could have succeeded as well in their own country. The same may be
said of every immigrant from Europe.... When the lowest class can do so
well, a better class would do even better.... The main hope lies at
present in so instructing intending emigrants that they will be able to
assimilate speedily and amicably with American society and abide by the
customs and laws of the country."
It is interesting to note that in Japan they talk of the "white peril"
and tell of the cruelty and oppression of Europeans to their "less
civilized" yellow brethren. They have no difficulty in finding cases
where might has made right, even in very recent times.
It is suggested by a Japanese newspaper that their diplomatists, in
dealing with our country, have been imitating the attitude of the
British toward the United States, apparently believing it to be in the
end the one most likely to achieve results. The main features of this
"attitude" are much patience and brotherly kindness, but unwavering
firmness.
Before leaving the subject a few statistics are not out of place. The
reason why the question centres about California is that sixty per cent.
of all the Japanese in the country are in that state, where most of them
are engaged in agriculture. During the last five years the number of
immigrants has steadily decreased. In 1911, the Japanese farmers
produced more than twelve million dollars' worth of crops, which is
nearly twenty per cent. of the entire yield of the state. Reckoning
their labour on land they do not control, however, they are responsible
for at least ninety per cent. of the agricultural products of
California, whether vineyard, vegetable, or fruit. The most successful
farmers are in the northern part of the state, where the low district
along the river is tabooed by Americans, and but for the men from Japan
would be idle and useless. The immense harvest of fruit and grain in the
San Joaquin valley could hardly be gathered without them.
During the agitation against Asiatics, when the number of Japanese was
reduced, and Indians, Greeks, Mexicans, and Italians took their places,
the American managers admitted that one Japanese was equal to three or
four of the other nationalities in agricultural work. The farmer from
Nippon is a hard-working man, always eager to have his own little hut
and a wife and family.
Dr. Sidney L. Gulick, in his recent book, "The American Japanese
Problem," points out the one-sidedness of the attacks made upon the
Japanese in California. He says, for instance, that "When Governor
Johnson and Secretary Bryan came to Florin [a town used as an 'awful
example' of Japanese occupation], Mr. Reese, already known for his
anti-Japanese attitude, was chosen by Governor Johnson to be their guide
and instructor, while Mr. Landsborough, known to Governor Johnson as
pro-Japanese, was turned aside." The report of the State Labour
Commission, which investigated the situation, was so favourable to the
Japanese that the state government is said to have suppressed it--at any
rate, it has never been published.
The _Los Angeles Times_ says: "The Japanese have become an important
factor in the agricultural and commercial life of the southwest. Their
thrift is remarkable, their patience inexhaustible, and they are natural
gardeners, seeming to read the secrets of the very soil and to know
instinctively what will do well and what will do better. The result of
this close study of soil conditions, close observation of crop and
weather conditions, enables the Japanese to control to a great degree
the vegetable-raising industry of Southern California."
Considering that there are more Italians in New York than there are in
Rome, and that one person in every three in our metropolis is a Jew,
while half the population of Norway is in this country--to mention a few
cases--it doesn't seem as if we ought to object seriously to a handful
of Japanese immigrants.
Although California repulsed them, South America has proved very
hospitable to the Japanese. The "Latin-American A-B-C" of Argentina,
Brazil and Chile, receives their colonists eagerly. Guglielmo Ferrero,
the Italian philosopher, finds traces of a possible racial likeness
between the Japanese and the natives of South America. While he is by no
means sure of this relationship himself, he says, "Japan will not shrink
from relying upon the anthropologic theories above stated for the
purpose of opening to its emigrants the ports of this immense and
wealthy continent and establishing the strongest ties of close
friendship where Europeans are gathering such harvests of wealth."
The friendship which exists between Japan and Argentina, however, is not
based upon any real or fancied racial ties. It began at the time when
the latter country sold the Island nation two new warships which she was
having built in Europe, thus proving herself a friend in need.
Emigration to Argentina has only just begun, but the future is very
promising commercially, not alone on account of the cordial relations,
but because the republic offers a good market for Japanese
merchandise--with a population of but six million, she buys and sells
more in a year than China with her three hundred million.
There is a great demand for Japanese immigrants in Brazil, where there
is no race prejudice to be encountered and much fertile land to be had
for the asking. Brazil is a Portuguese country, which is especially
appropriate, since Portugal was the first to send missionaries to Japan,
nearly three centuries ago.
A company has been formed in Japan for the purpose of colonizing in
Brazil, aiming to settle the surplus population in a country where it
will be well treated. At least three thousand immigrants a year are
promised by the company, but more will be welcomed, Brazil promising
land, roads, and transportation from Japan. Farmers, who in their own
country received perhaps fifteen cents a day, are able to save from one
hundred to three hundred dollars a year to send home, while wages are
steadily rising.
A writer in a recent issue of a Brazilian bulletin comments on the scene
at the dock when the first shipload of Japanese immigrants arrived. "The
spectacle was curious and very different to the disembarking of European
immigrants," he says. "The men, many of whom had their chests adorned
with the Manchurian medal, carried little flags in which the Brazilian
and Japanese colours were mingled, green and gold, white and red. The
extreme cleanliness of the Japanese was remarkable; while European
emigrants, and particularly those from the south of Europe, leave the
ship that has transported them in a filthy state, the cabins of the boat
on which the Japanese travelled were on arrival as neat as at the time
of departure. Each of them had in his baggage ... numerous articles of
toilet, tooth-paste, and tooth-brushes."
As yet there is little commerce between Brazil and Japan, but another
year will probably see a change in this respect, for the opening of the
Canal will make the route four thousand miles shorter, and the
freightage, as a consequence, much lower.
The Panama Canal will make a considerable difference in Japanese trade
with the United States. At present her exports to our country are nearly
double her imports from us. There are now two routes to New York--the
quicker one, to San Francisco and thence by rail, the slower one, all
the way by sea, through the Suez Canal; the former is expensive, while
the latter may require six months. It will be possible to make the trip
by way of Panama in almost the time needed for the shorter route, but
with the low freightage charge of the longer.
The Canal will also facilitate trade with the eastern coast of South
America, giving direct intercourse, not only with Brazil, but also with
Argentina. At present exports to these countries are sent via Europe and
transshipped.
On account of her insular position Japan has always been a sea-going
nation, but her shipping has increased enormously since the war with
Russia. She now has over six thousand ships, manned for the most part by
her own seamen. The question of building larger liners, such as are
being put into commission for the Atlantic trade, has been discussed. At
present the Japanese steamers which carry passengers are as good as the
American ones, if not better. Instead of buying them abroad, Japan is
beginning to build her own steamships--there are large shipyards at
Nagasaki and Kobe.
In her efforts to cope with her rapidly growing population and
multiplying industries, Japan is seeking trade-openings all over the
world. Her business men are touring the globe in search of them. At
present she is, perhaps, most interested in China, which has doubled the
amount of her annual trade in the last ten years. The first months of
1913 showed a gain of forty-six per cent. over the corresponding months
of 1912 in exports to China, while the United States exceeded her
previous purchases by only three per cent. Of the hundred thousand
Japanese in the former country, nearly all are engaged in commercial
pursuits, rather than in farming as they are in other parts of the
world. Japan also has the advantage of being near this great market, and
with labour so cheap she can easily compete with England, Germany, and
the United States. She could make great profits if it were not necessary
for her to buy most of her manufacturing machinery abroad.
America is by far Japan's best customer. She sold us and our colonies
over a hundred million dollars' worth of goods last year--about a third
of her total exports. Incidentally, she is an excellent customer of
ours, for she bought over thirty million dollars' worth of cotton alone,
in 1912, and much else besides.
Usually the Empire finds it necessary to import the raw materials and
the machinery for their manufacture, while she exports the finished
product. Much of her Oriental trade consists in yarn and cloth; the raw
material is brought in from China and America and sold again to China
and India.
In no way is the growth of Japan more striking than in her industries.
Sixty years ago she had no foreign trade, for she had nothing to export.
To-day Great Britain finds her an interesting rival. Mills and factories
have sprung up like mushrooms, almost over night. The conditions which
accompanied this change and rapid development are worth noting.
In feudal times both the arts and the industries were carried on under
the patronage of the nobility--the _daimyo_ and the _samurai_. They were
great lovers of beauty, these warlike lords; it is said that many a
_samurai_, returning from the wars covered with glory, preferred the
gift of an exquisite vase as a reward for his valour, rather than lands
or decorations. They encouraged their subjects to make things; but, more
than that, to make them beautiful.
Nevertheless, manufacturing conditions were very primitive. There was no
division of labour, so that often a man would need to be skilled in
several crafts in order to make a single article. Each man worked by
himself. A boy inherited his father's trade, whether he liked it or not.
Each trade had its guild, to which a worker must belong if he wished to
be free to carry on his business. These guilds still exist to-day, but
have far less power than labour unions in America or guilds in China.
The feudal system came to an end in 1868, and private ownership of
property began. Organized industries appeared on a small scale:
machinery was imported from Europe and America, railroads were built and
factories started. Nine years later the first industrial exposition ever
seen in Japan was held in Tokyo; soon afterward the Island Empire was
sending exhibits to Europe and America to show the world what she could
do. This, of course, resulted in stimulating the export trade and the
manufacturing of such articles as were most in demand.
After the Chinese war, in 1895, there was a great boom. Old methods of
private enterprise were no longer adequate to meet the increased demand.
Stock companies began to be organized. The Government itself took over
certain forms of industry for the purpose of raising revenues. Improved
machinery was introduced from the Western world, and experts were
engaged.
Since the Russo-Japanese war industries have multiplied so tremendously
that the demand for labour has been very great. Wages have gone up, and
the workers have become much more independent. As yet, there have been
no labour strikes of any importance; fortunately, no Gompers or
McNamaras have appeared.
For the first time in Japan women began to be employed. They are to be
found in large numbers in the factories near Osaka (which is called the
Chicago of Japan) and Kobe, as well as in the districts near Tokyo. Most
of these women are peasants from the provincial sections who serve on
three-year contracts. Children are still employed, although the
Government does not allow them to go to work under twelve years of age.
Wages in all branches of industry are still very low, and the cost of
living is rising. But living conditions, even at their worst, are much
better than with us among corresponding classes. Weavers, dyers, and
spinners receive from ten to twenty cents a day, while a streetcar
conductor gets five or six dollars a month.
The factory owners keep their employees in compounds, where they provide
some sort of shelter free and charge a nominal amount for meals. In the
older type of factory there is often crowding and a low standard of
living, but in the more modern and socialistic ones great attention is
paid to the worker's needs, physical, mental and moral.
There is a fine factory in Hyogo from which many of our mills might well
take pattern. Besides having beautiful recreation and dormitory gardens,
there are rows of pretty, two-storied houses with tiny gardens in front
of each. The owners also furnish a theatre for the use of their
employees, a coöperative shop, a spacious hospital, and schools and
kindergartens for the children.
Japan has more than seventy cotton mills in operation, and can
manufacture cloth as cheaply as any of its rivals. The home demand is
large, since the lower classes wear only cotton the year round. Cotton
towels, printed in blue and white, have become so popular in America
during the last year or two that the export trade in them has increased
enormously.
Four years ago a boy of eighteen, Torakichi Inouye, succeeded to the
hereditary management of a large towel firm in Tokyo. He realized that
foreigners seemed much attracted by the pretty designs, and were buying
them in surprising quantities at the shops where they were for sale. So
he began trying them on the American markets, with the success that we
have seen. To-day his factory is making two hundred thousand towels a
day, and in ten months shipped over 175,000,000 pieces. He originated
the idea of printing designs that could be combined into table-covers,
bedspreads, etc. The patterns for the towels are cut in paper, like a
stencil, and are folded in between many alternate layers of the cloth.
The indigo-blue dye is then forced through by means of an air-pump.
Instead of importing all their machinery, as formerly, the Japanese are
now beginning to manufacture it for themselves. They get the foreigners
to come and teach them how to build steamships and locomotives, and as
soon as they have learned whatever they wish to know they put their own
countrymen in charge of the work. Although at one time there were many
foreign engineers in different parts of the Empire, every year finds
fewer of them filling important positions. This is true in every branch
of industry.
Inventive genius is being cultivated, too, for clever people are not
content simply to imitate. A system of wireless quite different from
that generally in use is said to have been perfected for the navy.
Wireless telephones are used over short distances, and are being rapidly
improved and extended. Quite an advance has been made this last year in
aviation also. Experts in both army and navy are making good records.
In spite of many difficulties several thousand miles of railway have
been built during the last forty years. Engineers often find it
necessary not only to tunnel through mountains, but under rivers the
beds of which are shifting. To make matters even more interesting, there
are typhoons, earthquakes, and torrents of rain which end in floods.
Notwithstanding the cost of building and maintaining the roads under
such conditions, railway travel is cheaper than with us or in Europe.
First class costs less than third in an English train.
For the wherewithal to feed her people, Japan depends largely upon her
native farmers. In spite of their poverty these are of a higher class
socially than in most Western countries. The _samurai_ and _daimyo_ made
much of agriculture, ranking it above trade. The Government to-day
continues to do all that it can to aid and encourage farming. Experiment
stations have been established, and various coöperative societies formed
for the use of the farmers, who also have a special bank of their own.
Prices are rising, and, on the whole, the prospects are good, although
the nature of the land is against any great advance. The surface of the
country is so mountainous that only about one-seventh can be cultivated,
and that is not especially fertile. Sixty per cent. of the population is
agricultural.
Each man owns his own little farm, which he tills in primitive fashion,
growing rice, wheat, or beans, according to the soil or season. Almost
no livestock is kept, and pastures are rarely seen. An average farm,
supporting a family of six, has about three and a half acres.
[Illustration: A RICE FIELD.]
The soya bean, which is much grown, really furnishes an industry in
itself. It has many uses. _Soy_, the national sauce, is made from it,
and also bean cheese. Recently an English chemist has discovered a
method of producing artificial milk from it. Its oil is extracted and
sold to foreign markets, rivalling the cottonseed oil, which is better
known. The pulp remaining is used as fodder and fertilizer.
Rice is the favourite crop and is of such good quality that much of it
is exported to India, whence a cheaper grade is imported in return for
the use of the poorer classes. Instead of forming the national diet, as
we are inclined to suppose, rice is really such a luxury that many
people never eat it except in sickness or on feast-days.
For all the Japanese farmer is so independent, he is often miserably
poor. An acre of rice may in good years produce an annual profit of a
dollar and a half, but there is quite likely to be a deficit instead.
When one considers that it takes the labour of seventeen men and nine
women to cultivate two and a half acres of rice, this is not surprising.
Vegetables do better than grain, and mulberry plantations for the
raising of silkworms do best of all, but it has been figured that a
hard-working man, with very likely a large family to support, does well
if he clears a hundred and twenty dollars in the course of a year. As a
result of this, most of the peasantry are in debt, and many of them are
leaving their farms and going to the city, as they are doing in our own
country.
Really more important than rice, of which we hear so much, is the sweet
potato, of which we hear so little. The first one reached Japan some two
hundred years ago as the gift of the King of the Loochoo Islands to the
Lord of Satsuma. The latter prince was so pleased with the taste of it
that he asked for seed-potatoes, and before long the Government
commanded that the new vegetable should be grown throughout the country,
since it could be raised even in famine years, when other crops failed.
In Tokyo there are over a thousand sweet-potato shops, where one buys
them halved or sliced or whole, all hot and nicely roasted, serving in
cold weather to warm one's hands before delighting the inner man--or
rather, child--for they are a delicacy much prized by children. There is
no waste in their preparation, for not only are the peelings sold for
horse-fodder, but the ashes in which they are roasted are used again
around the charcoal in the _hibachi_!
The silkworm was introduced into Japan by a Chinese prince in 195 A. D.,
and a century later Chinese immigrants taught the people how to weave
the new thread. To-day sericulture is largely carried on by the women
and children of the farm, and is twice as productive as the rest of the
crops. As in poultry-raising, however, the gains are not in proportion
to the size of the plant, the smaller ones being the more successful.
The mining industries have been much slower to develop than most of the
others, although they are of ancient origin. A great deal of
metal--gold, silver and copper--was exported during the Middle Ages. It
has been suggested that Columbus had the gold of Japan in view when he
set out upon the voyage which resulted in the discovery of America.
Japan has been described as the missionary to the Far East. Certainly,
whatever her motives, her influence in Korea and Formosa has been most
helpful. The latter island has been nearly freed from smallpox and other
plagues, while its revenues have been increased six hundred per cent.
Her influence in the liberalizing of China is marked, too, although it
is less concentrated, of course, than in the smaller fields.
The Japanese have an undoubted advantage over other nationalities in
China. Their agents know the language, but more than that, they are able
to adapt themselves to native conditions of living and to "think
Chinese." For ages past China has been the godmother of Japan, teaching
her many valuable lessons in art and industry. It is now only fair that
the pupil should do what she can to help her ancient teacher. Naturally
the form which this expression of gratitude takes is by no means
unprofitable commercially to the younger nation!
"With regard to that part of Manchuria which comes under Japanese
influence," writes a British merchant, "the conveniences and facilities
afforded by the Japanese to one and all in regard to banking
institutions, railway communications, postal and telegraph service are
far and away superior to those afforded by the Russian and Chinese
institutions."
It has taken Europe six hundred years to do what Japan has done in
sixty, and if the little Island Nation has left a few things undone, or
has made mistakes and perhaps gone too far in some directions, it is not
surprising. The marvel is that with the thrill and bustle of modern
business life she has kept so much of the ancient charm and delight as
to make us even to-day feel the witchery of her Spell.
CHAPTER VII
A YEAR OF FESTIVALS
Most important and most generally observed of all Japanese festivals is
the New Year, the holiday season lasting for about two weeks. The most
striking feature to us was the varied decorations of the gates, which
were adorned with a collection of emblems of one kind and another,
producing an effect unique in the extreme, even if their significance
was unknown. These decorations are put up before Christmas in the case
of the foreigners, but those in front of the native houses are not
completed until New Year, and remain in place throughout the holidays.
A large number of apparently incongruous articles are used in
ornamenting Japanese homes for the New Year, and not until we learn the
symbolic meaning of each one of these can we understand their use. They
range from bamboo, ferns, oranges, pine-trees and branches of
_yusuri_-tree to paper bags, straw ropes, bits of charcoal, seaweed and
even lobsters, incomprehensible as it may seem to the Western mind that
some of these objects should have any significance whatever.
As you enter a house you discover, stretched from post to post of the
gateway above your head, a thick, twisted rope--the _nawa_--with the
following emblems suspended from it: first, the _yebi_--lobster--whose
bent back is the symbol of long life, suggesting the hope that he who
passes beneath may not die until time has bowed his back in like manner.
Surrounding the lobster, as a frame to its brilliant scarlet, are the
_yusuri_ branches, on which the young leaves are budding while the old
have not as yet fallen, significant of the several generations of the
family within. Almost hidden by the lobster and directly in the centre
of the _nawa_, are perhaps the prettiest of all the emblems, two dainty
fern-fronds, symbolical of the happiness and unity of wedded life, and
carefully placed between the two, a budding leaflet emblematic of
fruitfulness.
From Japanese mythology we learn the significance of the _nawa_--the
rope of rice straw. Ama-terasu, the Sun-Goddess, in terror of her
brother, Susa-no-o, fled to a cave, from which she refused to come
forth. Then the Eighty Myriads of Gods took counsel as to how they might
induce her to bestow upon them the light of her face once more. They
decided to give a wonderful entertainment, introduced by the songs of
thousands of birds. Ama-terasu came out, curious to know the meaning of
these sounds, daylight returned, and the gods stretched a barrier across
the mouth of the cavern in order that she might never retreat to it
again. The _nawa_ represents this obstacle, and wherever it hangs, the
sweetness of spring is supposed to enter.
But one may ask, what is the connection between the New Year and the
coming of spring? According to the old Japanese calendar, the year began
at any time between January sixteenth and February nineteenth, so it
came, as a rule, at least a month later than with us, and the idea of
spring was always associated with the New Year. Although spring arrives
in Tokyo about the time it does in Washington, January first is far
enough from any suggestion of buds and flowers: but the Japanese keep
the old associations and call the first fortnight of the year
"spring-advent" and the second fortnight "the rains."
The mention of spring suggests a charming stanza by an anonymous
Japanese poet, which I give in Professor Chamberlain's translation:
"Spring, spring has come, while yet the landscape bears
Its fleecy burden of unmelted snow!
Now may the zephyr gently 'gin to blow,
To melt the nightingale's sweet frozen tears."
That the gods may not be forgotten, propitiatory offerings in the shape
of twisted pieces of paper cut diagonally--_gohei_, meaning
purification--are attached at intervals along the _nawa_, looking for
all the world like the horns stuck in the hair in the children's game of
"Horned Lady." Setting off the scarlet hue of the lobster, on either
side is placed a _daidai_,--a kind of orange--expressing the hope that
the family pedigree may flourish. The rather incongruous piece of
charcoal--_sumi_, meaning homestead--comes next, and gently waving to
and fro beneath the oranges may be seen strips of
seaweed--_konbu_--signifying rejoicing.
On either side of the gateway stands the guardian pine-tree, indicative
of long life, supporting the _nawa_, which is about six feet in
length--on the right the _me-matsu_ (the red pine), and on the left the
_O-matsu_ (the honourable black pine). Behind, giving grace and dainty
freshness to the whole, nod and sway the exquisite feathery branches of
the bamboo, typical of health and strength. The full list of symbols is
not always seen, as the task and the purse of the individual are both
consulted before deciding upon his gateway decorations. But even among
the poorest there is never a doorway wholly unadorned; the omission
would be sure to bring harm to the householder and misfortune to his
friends, and the gods unpropitiated would look frowningly down during
the year. Although two diminutive pine-trees before a house may be all
that can be afforded, the dweller within feels as securely guarded
against harm in the coming year as if the whole panoply of emblems were
waving over his humble doorway.
The pine-trees remind me of Bashô's epigram on New Year decorations,
beautifully translated by E. W. Clement:
"At every door
The pine-trees stand:
One mile-post more
To the spirit-land;
And as there's gladness,
So there's sadness."
Much brighter colours are worn at the New Year than at other times, and
presents are exchanged. The older people make gifts of dwarf trees,
while the children give one another dolls and kites, and games of
battledore and shuttlecock, which one sees both old and young playing in
the streets. The small, stocky horses that drag the carts with their
picturesque loads are adorned with streamers of mauve and lemon and rose
in honour of the first drive of the year, and many of the carts carry
flags and lanterns on bamboo poles, so that the streets are very gay.
Tokyo is especially gay the last evening of the old year, because a
_matsuri_, or fair, is held in the principal street, with little booths
illuminated by lanterns, where any one who is in debt can sell his
belongings in order to pay all he owes and begin the New Year fairly.
Small groups go from house to house, carrying the strange lion-dog's
head, which they put through various antics, while they dance and sing
in order to drive away evil spirits. (The lion-dog is a mythical animal
borrowed from the Chinese.) They are usually rewarded by the owner with
a few pennies. People go about on New Year's Day, stopping at the
doorways of their friends to say: "May you be as old as the pine and as
strong as the bamboo, may the stork make nests in your chimney and the
turtle crawl over your floor." The turtle and the stork symbolize long
life.
Part of the preparation for the New Year festival consists in the annual
house-cleaning. This custom is kept up to-day, and is carried out even
in foreign houses. Under the old régime, we are told, officials of the
Shogun's Court sent overseers carrying dusters on long poles to
superintend the work and thrust their brooms into cracks and corners
where dust might be left undisturbed by careless servants, at the same
time making mystic passes with their poles to form the Chinese character
for water. The merchants, too, have their "big cleaning," when all their
wares are tossed out into the street. As one of the Japanese poets has
said:
"Lo, house-cleaning is here;
Gods of Buddha and Shinto
Are jumbled together
All on the grass!"
One of the most attractive customs associated with the New Year is that
of placing under the little wooden pillows of the children a picture of
the _Takara-bune_, the Treasure Ship, with the Seven Gods of Good
Fortune on board. This ship is said to come into port on New Year's Eve
and to bring a wonderful cargo, among other rare things being the Lucky
Rain-Coat, the Inexhaustible Purse, the Sacred Key and the Hat of
Invisibility. This is the Japanese interpretation of our expression,
"When my ship comes in."
At the Embassy the observance of New Year's Eve was a mixture of
American and Japanese customs. We invited all the unmarried members of
the Staff, and after visiting the _matsuri_ we returned to the Embassy,
and as the clock struck twelve we passed a loving bowl, and all joined
hands and sang songs. Then, as the passing year was the year of the
cock, and 1913 was the year of the bullock, some one crowed a good-bye
to the rooster of 1912, and some one else mooed like a bullock as a
welcome to the newcomer, and we had a very jolly time.
But New Year's Day itself is not without its religious and ceremonial
observances. Every man is obliged to rise at the hour of the tiger--the
early hour of four o'clock--and put on new clothes. Then he worships the
gods, does homage to the spirits of his ancestors, and offers
congratulations to his parents and the older members of the family. All
this must be done before he can breakfast.
The first repast of the year is in every sense symbolic. The tea is made
with water drawn from the well as the first ray of the sun touches it.
The principal dish is a compound of six ingredients, which are always
the same, although the proportions may be varied. A special kind of
_saké_ is drunk from a red lacquer cup in order to ensure good health
for the coming year. In addition to these things, there is always an
"elysian stand"--a red lacquer tray, covered with evergreen _yusuri_
leaves and bearing a lobster, a rice dumpling, dried sardines, and
herring roe, also oranges, persimmons and chestnuts, much as in a "lucky
bag." All these articles of food are in some way emblematic of long life
and happiness, and the stand itself represents the chief of the three
islands of Chinese mythology, where all the birds and animals are white,
where mountains and palaces are of gold, and where youth is eternal.
New Year calls are as much a part of the celebration in Japan as in the
Western world. Originally, these were genuine visits, and the "elysian
stand" was set before the guests for their refreshment, but among the
higher classes the calls are now the most conventional of affairs, in
which the visitor simply writes his name in a book or leaves a card in a
basket, often without being received by the householder at all. The
caller leaves also a little gift of some sort--such as a basket of
oranges, a bunch of dried seaweed, or a box of sweetmeats--wrapped in a
neat package and tied with a red and gold cord in a butterfly knot. A
finishing touch is given to the parcel by a sprig of green in a
quiver-shaped envelope tucked under the knot.
The seventh of January was the proper time to go out into the fields and
gather seven common plants, among which were dandelion, chickweed and
shepherd's purse. These were boiled with rice and eaten for health,
strength and good luck.
Originally, the Japanese had no weekly day of rest and recreation, but
in recent years the Sabbath has been made an official rest-day, to be
observed by all in government employ. The mass of the people, however,
bring up their average of holidays by other occasions. There are during
the year ten or twelve special feasts which are always observed--the
Emperor's birthday, or when he eats first of the season's rice crop, or
makes a pilgrimage to the shrines of his mythological ancestors, and
other similar events, are all made the occasion of a national holiday
and popular rejoicing. Besides, every section of a city or district in
the country has a little _matsuri_ every day or two, and these, of
course, are held holiday, but it must be remembered that many of the
festivals mentioned in this chapter belonged to Old Japan, and are dying
out to-day.
Some festivals take the names of animals, such as the Horse Day, and the
years are also named after animals, 1914 being the year of the tiger.
The Fox Temple Festival is well known, when the people pray for good
crops. Among other holidays are the Lucky Day, the seventh day of the
seventh month, when two planets are in conjunction, and the first day of
the eighth month. Certain prescribed flowers and plants are used on each
of these occasions. Any important date, such as that on which a young
man comes of age, or an official is promoted in rank, is also made a
festal day.
The twenty-eighth day of every month is observed by the Japanese, but
more generally in the first month than in any other, in order to begin
the New Year properly. We went to a Buddhist temple in Uyeno Park, where
they beg the god of luck to protect them and keep them from misfortune
throughout the year. Before entering the temple, as is always done, they
purify themselves by washing their hands and scattering little offerings
of money done up in paper. On account of some ancient custom, money is
much more valued in Japan if wrapped in paper. Candles are lighted, and
priests sitting cross-legged with their backs to the audience read from
sacred books. A holy fire is kindled, and each worshipper buys a hundred
tapers and walks from the fire to the shrine, praying, I suppose, for
they seem to be saying something. As they reach the fire again, they
throw a taper into it, and repeat the ceremony till all are gone.
Surrounding the temple are little booths, where toys are for sale and
gay lanterns and good things to eat and drink are displayed, so that
when the prayers have been offered, the people can enjoy themselves in
feasting, watching the jugglers at their tricks, or making small
purchases at the booths.
On the night of February third, distant shouts were heard at the
Embassy. Upon inquiring what the noise was about, I was told that this
was called "Bean Night," when the servants in most houses throw beans
out into the garden, crying, "Demons go out, luck come in." As I passed
a temple that evening, I saw crowds of people, and noticed some Shinto
or Buddhist priests doing a religious dance.
[Illustration: DISPLAY OF DOLLS, DOLLS' FESTIVAL.]
The third of March is the Dolls' Festival, the great day of the year for
little girls. At all times of the year the Japanese have miniature
belongings for children which are very attractive, but just before this
festival the shops are even prettier than at Christmas in America, and
the windows are always arranged either to show the _No_ dance--two
figures in curious dress in front of a gold screen with pine-tree
decorations--or the Emperor and Empress. These dolls are placed on the
top shelf with a screen behind and a canopy overhead to suggest a
palace. Although for twenty years or more the Emperor has generally
appeared in uniform on State occasions, and the Empress has been gowned
in the latest Parisian style, these Imperial dolls wear flowing robes
and have strange crowns upon their heads, the Emperor, too, having his
hair curiously arranged; and they sit in Japanese fashion on a raised
platform. On the shelf below are ladies-in-waiting, then follow
musicians, lanterns and articles of food down the steps in order, all
very tiny and perfectly made.
For a picture of this festival as it is kept even to-day I borrow from
Miss Alice M. Bacon's "Japanese Girls and Women," only adding that I was
so delighted with the toys myself that I bought many of them, and with
the aid of Watanabe set them up in proper order at the Embassy:
"It was my privilege," says Miss Bacon, "to be present at the Feast of
Dolls in the house of one of the Tokugawa _daimyos_, a house in which
the old forms and ceremonies were strictly observed, and over which the
wave of foreign innovation had passed so slightly that even the calendar
still remained unchanged, and the feast took place upon the third day of
the third month of the old Japanese year, instead of on the third day of
March, which is the usual time for it now. At this house, where the
dolls had been accumulating for hundreds of years, five or six broad,
red-covered shelves, perhaps twenty feet long or more, were completely
filled with them and with their belongings. The Emperor and Empress
appeared again and again, as well as the five Court musicians, and the
tiny furnishings and utensils were wonderfully costly and beautiful.
Before each Emperor and Empress was set an elegant lacquered table
service--tray, bowls, cups, _saké_ pots, rice baskets, etc., all
complete--and in each utensil was placed the appropriate variety of
food. The _saké_ used on this occasion is a sweet, white liquor, brewed
especially for this feast, as different from the ordinary _saké_ as
sweet cider is from the hard cider upon which a man may drink himself
into a state of intoxication. Besides the table service, everything that
an Imperial doll can be expected to need or desire is placed upon the
shelves. Lacquered _norimono_, or palanquins; lacquered bullock carts,
drawn by bow-legged black bulls--these were the conveyances of the great
in Old Japan, and these, in minute reproductions, are placed upon the
red-covered shelves. Tiny silver and brass _hibachi_, or fire-boxes, are
there, with their accompanying tongs and charcoal baskets--whole
kitchens, with everything required for cooking the finest of Japanese
feasts, as finely made as if for actual use; all the necessary toilet
apparatus--combs, mirrors, utensils for blackening the teeth, for
shaving the eyebrows, for reddening the lips and whitening the face--all
these things are there to delight the souls of all the little girls who
may have the opportunity to behold them. For three days the Imperial
effigies are served sumptuously at each meal, and the little girls of
the family take pleasure in serving the Imperial Majesties; but when the
feast ends, the dolls and their belongings are packed away in their
boxes, and lodged in the fireproof warehouse for another year."
As we may well believe from the tenderness with which it is treated, the
Japanese doll is not simply a plaything but a means of teaching a girl
to be a good wife and mother. It is never abused, but is so well cared
for that it may be in use for a hundred years. Certain large dolls,
representing children two or three years old, were formerly believed to
contain human souls, and it was thought that if they were not well
treated they would bring ill luck upon their owners.
A story is told of a maid who was much disturbed by dreams of a
one-armed figure--the ghost of a girl or woman--which haunted her bed at
night. These visitations were repeated so many times that she decided to
leave the place, but her master prevailed upon her to stay until he had
made a thorough search of her room. Sure enough, in the corner of a
cupboard shelf, he came upon an old one-armed doll, left there by a
former servant. The doll's arms were repaired, it was honourably put
away, and the restless little ghost was laid.
Lafcadio Hearn says, "I asked a charming Japanese girl: 'How can a doll
live?' 'Why,' she answered, '_if you love it enough_, it will live.'"
But as all things earthly must have an end, so even a Japanese doll at
last comes to the close of its life. It is lovingly cared for even then,
is not thrown away, is not buried, but is consecrated to Kojin, a god
with many arms. A little shrine and a _torii_ are erected in front of
the _enoki_-tree, in which Kojin is supposed to live, and here the doll
finds its last resting-place.
On the eighth of April is celebrated the religious festival known as the
Baptism of Buddha, when crowds assemble at all the temples, and pour
_amacha_, or sweet tea, over the statue of Buddha. In the centre of a
small shrine set up for the occasion is the image, adorned with flowers
and surrounded by small ladles to be used by the worshippers. The right
hand of the image is uplifted toward heaven and the left pointed
downward toward the earth, "in interpretation of the famous utterance
attributed to Buddha at birth: 'Through all the heights of heaven and
all the depths of earth, I alone am worthy of veneration.'"
The ceremony is said to have originated in the effort to
interpret the meaning of the _sutra_--a Buddhist text--called
Wash-Buddha-Virtuous-Action _sutra_. In this we are told that "a
disciple once asked Buddha how best to enjoy the virtue ascribed to the
Master both in heaven and on earth." The answer was in substance that
the worshipper would find peace by pouring a perfumed liquid over
Buddha's statue, and then sprinkling it upon his own head. While
performing the ceremony, the devotee must repeat the golden text, "Now
that we have washed our sacred Lord Buddha clean, we pray that our own
sins, both physical and spiritual, may be cleansed away, and the same we
pray for all men." This festival is an especial favourite with children,
who throng the temples, each one throwing a small copper coin into the
shrine and deluging the god with sweet tea, which is usually a decoction
of liquorice and sugar in water.
[Illustration: DISPLAY OF ARMOUR AND TOYS, BOYS' FESTIVAL.]
At the Boys' Festival, on the fifth of May, over every house where a boy
has been born during the year a bamboo pole is set up, from which flies
a paper carp, the fish moving in the breeze as if ascending a stream.
The carp is the boldest of fish in braving the rapids, so to Japanese
boys he symbolizes ambitious striving. In every household where there
are sons the favourite heroes of olden time are set out in the alcove of
honour of the guest-room. Among them will be seen the figure of an
archer clothed from head to foot in gay armour, with a huge bow in his
hand and a quiver full of arrows on his back. This is Yorimasa, the
famous knight, who was the greatest archer of his time. On this day,
too, pride of family and veneration for ancestors are inculcated by
bringing out the antique dishes, the old armour and the other heirlooms
that during the rest of the year are stored in the _godown_.
The Gion Festival, on the seventh of June, in honour of the mythical
Prince Susa-no-o-no-mikoto and his consort, Princess Inada, and their
son, Prince Yahashira, is famed for its magnificent procession, in which
the car of the god is drawn. In the centre of the car is a figure
attired in rich brocades; in front is a beautiful youth, who is
accompanied by other boys, all wearing crowns; at the back is the
orchestra that furnishes music for the procession. This display is
witnessed by crowds of people, who throng the Shijo Road, in Kyoto,
where it occurs.
In ancient times it was customary to atone for a crime by shaving the
head and cutting the nails of the fingers and toes. This custom has now
been modified to a sort of vicarious atonement, called _harai_. _Gohei_,
which in this case is cut in the shape of a human figure, is rubbed on
the body of the evil-doer in order that it may take his sins, and is
then thrown into the stream and carried away. Repentant sinners obtain
_harai_ from the priests of Shinto temples.
This ceremony, which occurs in June and is called the Festival of the
Misogi, is referred to in the following old song:
"Up Nara's stream
The evening wind is blowing;
Down Nara's stream
The Misogi is going:
So Summer has come, I know!"
A festival of fairy-land is the _Itsukushima_, celebrated at Miyajima,
on the Inland Sea, from the fifteenth to the seventeenth of June.
Brilliant decorations are everywhere--on the long avenue by which the
shrine is approached, and over the water, where bamboo-trees have been
set up, and flags and lanterns are hung from them. Musicians in three
boats furnish music for the assembled crowds. The place is thronged by
thousands on the last day of the festival, when the boats with the
musicians are stationed under the great _torii_, and the sweet sounds
floating over the water and the myriad lights reflected in the sea make
the scene one of indescribable enchantment.
On the seventh of July occurs the _Tanabata Matsuri_, or Festival of the
Stars, which, like so many other Japanese customs, was introduced from
China. A charming nature myth tells us that beside the East River of
Heaven, the Milky Way, lived the fair Princess Tanabata, who was known
to the human race as the star Vega. She was a weaver by profession. As
she was obliged to marry in order to fulfill her destiny, Heaven chose
for her the great male star, Kengyu (Aquila), whose abode was on the
West River. In her happiness the Princess forgot her weaving; whereat
Heaven was so displeased that she was sent back in disgrace to the East
River, and ever after was allowed to see her husband only once a year.
All devout Japanese pray for fine weather on July seventh, as that is
the date on which the unfortunate lovers meet; for, if even a few drops
of rain fall, the East River will rise above its banks and prevent the
Princess from crossing to her waiting spouse.
On the evening of this day, the young maidens of the family lay a straw
matting in the garden, and place on it a table with fruits and cakes as
offerings to the two stars. Then they present their petitions for
themselves and their true loves. Some pray for long life and a large
family; others set up a bamboo pole, on which they hang a piece of
embroidery as an emblem of their desire for skill in needlework; still
others attach to the pole pieces of paper, on which are written the
poems they bring in praise of the heavenly couple. This festival has
scant observance in large cities.
Touched with a peculiar tenderness and pathos is the Festival of the
Dead, observed from the thirteenth to the fifteenth of July. In every
house new mats of rice straw are laid before the little shrines, and a
tiny meal is set out for the spirits of the departed. When evening
comes, the streets are brilliant with flaming torches, and lanterns are
hung in every doorway. Those whose friends have only lately left them
make this night a true memorial to their dead, going out to the
cemeteries, where they offer prayers, burn incense, light lanterns and
fill bamboo vases with the flowers they have brought. On the evening of
the third day the Ghosts of the Circle of Penance are fed, and those who
have no friends living to remember them. Then on every streamlet, every
river, lake and bay of Japan--except in the largest seaports, where it
is now forbidden--appear fleets of tiny boats, bearing gifts of food and
loving farewells. The light of a miniature lantern at its bow and blue
wreaths of smoke from burning incense mark the course of each little
vessel. In these fairy craft the spirits take their departure for the
land of the hereafter.
In September occurs the Moon Festival, which appears to have no
religious significance whatever, but to be simply an occasion for
enjoying the beauty of the moon. It was doubtless borrowed from the
Chinese in the eighth century, and is still celebrated in some places.
The ancient Chinese, however, observed it in solemn fashion, going to
the top of some pagoda and writing poems about the Queen of the Night,
but the Japanese of olden times combined with pure æsthetic enjoyment
the pleasures of actual feasting. They used to gather in the garden of
some restaurant by a lake or river, where a banquet of rice dumplings,
boiled potatoes and beans was set out, and enjoyed at the same time the
good food and the scene before them.
Also in September is the Ayaha Festival, in honour of the two Chinese
women who first taught weaving to the Japanese, many centuries ago.
These teachers died in September, and on the seventeenth of that month
cotton and hempen fabrics are offered to their spirits at the shrines
built in their honour.
At the temple of the goddess Amaterasu-Omikami, near Shiba Park, Tokyo,
the Shinmei Feast is observed from the eleventh to the twenty-first of
September. This is especially the time to offer the petition, "O God,
make clean our hearts within us," hence much ginger is sold, the plant
being supposed to prevent impurity. A sweetmeat called _ame_ is sold in
cypress-wood baskets, curved like the roofs of ancient shrines. Cypress
is held sacred because the roof-trees of old shrines were made of it,
and is supposed to have the power of warding off diseases.
One of the most curious of all Japanese festivals is the Laughing
Festival of Wasa, celebrated in October. A procession is formed of old
men carrying boxes full of oranges and persimmons impaled on sharpened
sticks, followed by children with the same kinds of fruits on bamboo
rods. On reaching the shrine, the leader turns round and makes up a
comical face, which is greeted with shouts of laughter.
According to the legend, the gods, once upon a time, met in the great
temple at Izumo to consider the love affairs of the kingdom. When all
were seated, one alone, Miwa-Daimyo-jin, was missing, and although
search was made, he could not be found. Now, this god was so deaf that
he had misunderstood the day appointed for the assembly, and he appeared
at Izumo only after all was over. The Laughing Festival commemorates the
laughter of the gods when they heard of poor Miwa-Daimyo-jin's mistake.
Another October celebration is held in memory of Nichiren, called the
Luther of Japan, who endeavoured to purify Buddhism from the
superstitions that had crept into it. He was the founder of the sect
named for him. On October thirteenth great numbers of his disciples
assemble at Ikegami, the place of his death, near Tokyo, carrying
lanterns and banners, and reciting a _sutra_ in concert.
A curious feast is observed by merchants on the twentieth of October in
honour of Ebisu, one of the seven gods of good luck, who is especially
the guardian genius of tradesmen. They invite their friends and
relatives to a banquet, upon which a large picture of the god looks down
from the wall. Fishes, called _tai_, are laid before this picture as
offerings, and are also eaten by the guests. After the feast has
proceeded a little way, sport begins. Perhaps one of the guests starts
an auction of the dishes before him, his companions bidding up to
thousands of _yen_,[6] the joke continuing until it runs itself out.
This little buying and selling episode is to emphasize the fact that it
is a merchants' festival that is being celebrated.
[6] The _yen_ is fifty cents.
The present Emperor's birthday is the thirty-first of August, but
henceforth it is to be celebrated on the thirty-first of October, which
brings it very near to the third of November, the late Emperor's
birthday, so long a holiday all over Japan. Although this is one of the
annual festivities, the celebration is so largely official and
diplomatic that I have described it among Court Functions.
The fall _matsuri_ in Tokyo is held early in November at the Shokonsha,
a temple sacred to the memory of the patriots who have given their lives
for their country. It is especially a soldiers' festival, and is the
occasion when the garrison comes in a body to worship at this shrine.
The troops form by divisions in front of the temple and salute,
presenting arms while the bugles sound a sacred call. Afterward the
soldiers have a race-meeting on a half-mile track, which is made very
amusing by the rivalry between the different divisions and the mad
careerings of the little horses. This is a large _matsuri_, and the
booths of peddlers and mountebanks line the streets for blocks.
November eighth is the day of the _Fuigo Matsuri_, when thanks are
returned to the god of fire, who invented the bellows--_Fuigo_ meaning
bellows. As the centre of the worship of this god is in Kyoto, it is
observed to a greater extent there than elsewhere, beginning in a
curious way, by opening the windows before sunrise and throwing out
quantities of oranges to the children who are always waiting outside.
The Japanese counterpart of our New England Thanksgiving occurs the
twenty-third of November, when the Emperor is the chief celebrant,
making an offering of the new rice of the year before the shrine of his
ancestors, and in behalf of the nation uttering a prayer of thanksgiving
and a plea for protection. After presenting this offering His Majesty
partakes of a sacred feast, consisting of the first fruits of the year,
and the next day he invites the highest officials of the State to a
grand banquet at the palace.
Near the end of December comes the _Kamado-harai_ Feast of the Oven. The
_kamado_ is the fire-box on which the food is cooked, and it has a god
of its own. As the year draws to a close, the god of the _kamado_
carries to heaven a report of the conduct of the household during the
twelve months. So the priests are called in to pray the oven-god that he
will give as favourable an account as possible. As modern stoves are now
taking the place of the old _kamado_ to some extent, this feast is less
observed in the larger cities than in the country districts.
At a shrine in Shimonoseki the festival of _Wakamegari-no Shinji_ is
observed on the thirty-first of December. A flight of stone steps leads
through a stone _torii_ down into the sea far below the lowest
tide-mark. The Shinto priests, in full robes, are obliged to descend
these steps on the feast-day until they reach and cut some of the
seaweed (_wakame_), which they offer at the temple the next day.
Japanese legend relates that the Empress Jingo sailed from this spot to
the conquest of Korea, bearing two jewels that were given her by the god
of this shrine. When off the Korean coast, she threw one jewel into the
water, and a flood tide at once bore her ships high up on the shore;
then she tossed the other gem into the waves, and the swift ebbing of
the tide left the fleet safely stranded.
CHAPTER VIII
CULTS AND SHRINES
"He that practiseth righteousness receiveth a blessing; it
cometh as surely as the shadow followeth the man."
The quotation at the head of this chapter is of especial interest,
because it reminds one so much of a precept from the Bible. It is taken
from a little Japanese text-book of ethics, which is ascribed to a
Buddhist abbot of the ninth century.
There are two distinct but perfectly harmonious forms of non-Christian
belief in Japan to-day--Shinto and Buddhism--which dovetail so well that
each one contributes something of value to the Japanese character. The
Confucian philosophy, also, had its share in developing _Bushido_, the
"Soul of the People."
Shinto is the native religion of Japan, and both because it is so little
known outside of that country and because a study of it goes so far to
explain many national characteristics, it seems worth while to consider
it at some length. The word Shinto may be translated as the Way of the
Gods, and defined in brief as a worship of ancestors, especially of the
Emperor and his forebears. Human beings are believed to be the children
of the sunshine, and sin is hardly recognized.
Shinto is a combination of primitive instincts. It is based on hero
worship, and it has myriads of deities, who live in every conceivable
object, from the spirit of the sewing-needle to the gods of thunder and
lightning, or of the sun, moon and stars. "The weakness of Shinto," says
Dr. Nitobe, the eloquent exponent of Japanese beliefs, "lies in the
non-recognition of human frailty, of sin." The sum total of its moral
teaching is this, "Be pure in heart and body."
The Shinto idea seems to be that it is only necessary to act out the
natural impulses of the heart in order to be pure. But where there is no
sense of sin, there can be no consciousness of need, no incentive to
higher things. Shinto lacks ideals. It allies itself with the practical
affairs of every-day life, inculcating industry and personal
cleanliness, some of its sects even prescribing mountain-climbing and
abdominal respiration as religious duties. But, as it has no theology,
it offers no explanation of the great problems of the universe; and,
having no sacred writings, it has no authority on which to base a system
of ethics. Theology and the spiritual element in religion came to Japan
with Buddhism; while ethics was the gift of Confucianism.
The first sign of a Shinto temple is the _torii_. This peculiar gateway,
though originally erected only by the Shintoists, has been adopted by
the Buddhists, who have changed it by turning up the corners of the top
beam and adding inscriptions and ornament. Passing under the _torii_ you
stand before the huge gate, generally painted red, guarded by wooden
figures, or keepers. These are supposed to be Ni-o--two gigantic and
fierce kings--and they occupy a sort of cage with wire in front, that
stands on either side of the entrance. Every worshipper makes a wish as
he enters the temple, and throws at the kings little wads of paper
precisely like the spitballs of school children. If the wads go through
the wire, the wishes are supposed to come true.
The temple itself stands in a courtyard inside the gate, and is rather
plain and undecorated, much like Japanese houses. A flight of steps
leads up to a balcony on the front, there is matting upon the floor
inside, and an altar in the centre supports a big bronze vase, which
usually contains pieces of gold paper, called _gohei_. A mirror is the
most important article in a Shinto shrine, the idea being that it is a
symbol of the human heart, which should reflect the image of Deity as
the glass reflects the face of the worshipper. The mirror is not found
in the temples of merely local divinities, but only in those sacred to
the Sun-Goddess herself, and even there is not exposed to view. Wrapped
in a series of brocade bags--another being added as each in turn wears
out--and kept in a box of cypress wood, which is enclosed in a wooden
cage under silken coverings, the mirror itself is never visible to the
eyes of the curious.
[Illustration: GRAND SHRINE OF ISE.]
Two famous Shinto shrines--at Ise and Kitzuki--are especially revered on
account of their great age. Kitzuki is so ancient that no one knows when
it was founded. According to tradition, the first temple was built by
direct command of the Sun-Goddess herself, in the days when none but
gods existed. The approach to the sacred enclosure is most imposing. A
beautiful avenue, shaded by huge trees and spanned by a series of
gigantic _torii_, leads from a magnificent bronze _torii_ at the
entrance to the massive wall that surrounds the temple courts. Within
are groves and courts and immense buildings. The people are not admitted
to the great shrine itself, but offer their petitions before the Haiden,
or Hall of Prayer. Each pilgrim throws money into the box before the
door, claps his hands four times, bows his head, and remains for a few
minutes, then passes out. So many thousands throng this court that--to
borrow Hearn's figure--the sound of their clapping is like the surf
breaking on the shore.
Although the shrine at Kitzuki is the oldest, the temples at Ise are
more venerated. The inner shrine itself is a plain wooden building set
within successive courts, but stately cryptomerias and the most
magnificent camphor groves in all Japan give the place an unusual air of
grandeur and sanctity.
Wedding and funeral customs are extremely interesting. They have both
the religious and the civil marriage in Japan. To make it legal, the
parents must sign in the register. Marriages in Shinto temples have been
unusual until recently, as they have generally taken place in the home.
The custom is changing now, and temple weddings are becoming more
frequent. Funeral customs are changing also. Formerly it was always the
Buddhist priest who conducted the burial service, now the aristocrats
are interred according to Shinto rites.
At a wedding that we witnessed in a Shinto temple the couple first
listened to a sermon by the priest, then they were given tapers at the
altar. The bride lighted her candle first, and the bridegroom lighted
his from hers. After this the two tapers were put together in such a way
that they burned as one, symbolizing the perfect unity of wedded life.
The bride was handsomely dressed--the _obis_ for these occasions
sometimes cost over one hundred dollars--and wore the headdress with
horns, half hidden by a veil called the "horn-hider." This name would
seem to refer to the Buddhist text, "A woman's exterior is that of a
saint, but her heart is that of a demon." After the marriage ceremony,
the bridal party was photographed in the temple courtyard in a decidedly
up-to-date fashion. At the house the bridal couple drank the nuptial
_saké_, which had been prepared by two girl friends of the bride. This
was poured from a gold lacquer vessel into one of silver lacquer--the
two representing husband and wife--then into a cup, which the master of
ceremonies handed to the bride and afterward to the groom, and from
which they both drank.
As Shinto is the faith of the reigning family, the funeral ceremony of a
prince throws a good deal of light upon the cult itself. I did not
witness such a ceremony myself, so I condense the vivid description
given by the Baroness d'Anethan, who, as wife of the Belgian Minister,
resided in Tokyo for many years.
The funeral procession was headed by over eighty bearers dressed in
white, the Japanese sign of mourning, each carrying a huge tower of
flowers. Following these were officers in uniform holding cushions, on
which rested the Prince's numerous grand crosses and orders. Next came
various persons surrounding a casket, which contained the favourite
food, the shoes for the journey (large wooden _geta_), the sword to
guard against evil spirits during the soul's fifty days' wanderings, and
the money to pay for the ferry-boat that crosses the river to Eternity.
Finally appeared a beautifully fabricated casket of pure white wood (the
Shinto sign of purity), embossed with the family arms in gold, in which
the body was arranged in a sitting position. The chief mourner, a young
prince, was dressed in the old-fashioned Court mourning, consisting of a
wide, full, black silk petticoat, covered partially by a short white
kimono, crowned by an unusual form of headdress, made of what looked
like stiff black muslin. The two princesses of the family also wore
ancient Court mourning--a greyish-brown _hakama_ (a kind of divided
skirt)--and had their black hair puffed out at the sides like great
wings and hanging down the back.
Arriving at the cemetery, the Corps Diplomatique walked up a path paved
in wood and bordered on each side by covered seats, at the end of which
were high trestles supporting the coffin. The service now began,
accompanied by weird funeral music. Low white wooden tables were placed
before the coffin, all sorts of objects being offered to the departed by
the priests. First was a long box, containing the name which His
Imperial Highness was to bear in the next world. After this followed a
repast of various kinds of fish, game, sweetmeats and fruit--the
favourite foods of the deceased. These articles were handed with great
ceremony from one priest to another. There were ten priests, and as each
one took the dish, which was placed on a stool of white wood, he clapped
his hands twice to call the gods, and the last priest, bowing very low,
finally set it on the table. After all the food had been deposited,
prayers were intoned from an immense scroll, the final ceremony being
that each member of the family, and after them, the Corps Diplomatique,
approached the coffin, carrying branches of some particular tree, from
which floated long papers inscribed with prayers. The actual interment
took place some hours later, and with the remains of the Prince were
buried the various articles of food and clothing.
Our visits to the cemeteries showed us the veneration of the Japanese
for their noble dead, and impressed us with the significance of ancestor
worship in the Shinto cult. The big graveyard in Tokyo, where Nogi and
his wife were buried, was most interesting. Modern cemeteries in Japan
are much like ours, each owner having an enclosed lot and misshapen
stones or stone lanterns to mark the graves, but they are not so well
kept up as in America. Attached to the fence surrounding the lot is a
wooden box, in which visitors leave their cards when calling at the
abode of the dead. The mourners sometimes burn incense and leave
branches of laurel, too. As we approached the resting-place of Nogi and
his wife, we saw crowds of people standing near, for although months had
passed since their dramatic death, the Japanese were still visiting
their graves in great numbers.
In many cemeteries are the statues of "The Six Jizo"--smiling, childish
figures about three feet high--bearing various Buddhist emblems. A bag
of pebbles hangs about the neck of each one, and little heaps of stones
are piled up at their feet and even laid upon their shoulders and their
knees. Jizo is the children's god. He is the protector of the little
souls who have gone from this world to the Sai-no-Kawara, the abode of
children after death, where they must pile up stones in penance for
their sins! When this task is done, the demons abuse them and throw down
their little towers; then the babies run to Jizo, who hides them in his
great sleeves, and drives the evil spirits away. Every stone that is
laid at the feet of Jizo is a help to some little one in working out its
long task.
Hearn gives an interesting account of a wonderful cave at Kaka, on the
wild western coast of Japan, which can be visited only when there is not
wind enough "to move three hairs," for the strongest boat could not live
in the surf that beats against the high cliffs and dashes into the
fissures in their sides. But let one make the journey safely, and he
shall find in this grotto an image of Jizo, and before it the tiny stone
heaps. Every night, it is said, baby souls make their way to the cavern,
and pile up the pebbles around their friend, and every morning the
prints of little bare feet--the feet of the baby ghosts--are seen in the
moist sand.
Buddhism has become so complicated and changed in the different
countries through which it has travelled since it originated in Southern
India, and there are to-day so many sects, that it is difficult to
define.
The Ikko sect undoubtedly holds the purest and loftiest form of this
faith. Its chief teaching is, that "man is to be saved by faith in the
merciful power of Amida, and not by works or vain repetition of prayers.
For this reason, and also because its priests are permitted to marry,
this body has sometimes been called the Protestantism of Japan."
All the followers of Buddha believe in reincarnation; they feel that
life is a struggle, which human beings must get through with as well as
they can, and that as they are frail, they return to this earth in
various forms in punishment for their sins, always toiling on, until at
last their purified souls merge in the Divine and realize calm. As an
old Japanese writer puts it, "Though growing in the foulest slime, the
flower remains pure and undefiled. And the soul of him who remains pure
in the midst of temptation is likened unto the lotus."
There have been many Buddhas, who have returned at different times to
this world, Yamisaki being the latest. Buddhism has degenerated in
Japan, having absorbed the Shinto gods, and as it is based on a
pessimistic view of life, it appears to be rather a depressing religion.
[Illustration: _Lacquer Work_]
Buddhist temples are adorned with wonderful carving and lacquer work,
and contain bronzes and golden Buddhas. One of the largest and most
magnificent in Japan, surrounded by gardens of great extent and beauty,
is the Eastern Hongwanji temple in Kyoto. The shrines of the Ikko sect
are called Hongwanji, meaning "Monastery of the Real Vow," from the vow
made by Amida that he would not become Buddha unless salvation was
granted to all who sincerely desired it and testified their wish by
calling upon his name ten times. There is no government fund for this
shrine, and it has no regular source of income, yet it has been the
recipient of munificent gifts from royal personages and men of wealth,
and has all the prestige that could come from temporal support and the
sanction of government.
When we visited this temple, we were ceremoniously received by the
priest in charge and a number of his confrères. The head priest, short,
fat and clean-shaven, who met us at the gate, grunted and drew the air
through his teeth in greeting us, as a symbol of great politeness and
respect. His costume was a black silk robe over a soft white
under-garment, and a gold brocade band about his neck.
As we passed into the building, we were told that the present structure,
which is said to have cost seven million _yen_ and was sixteen years in
building, was erected on the site of an ancient temple that had been
destroyed by fire. It is noteworthy that the new temple contains a
system of tile pipes in the roof and ceiling, from which, in case of
fire, water may be dropped over the entire area.
[Illustration: EASTERN HONGWANJI TEMPLE, KYOTO.]
Before the altar is a broad sweep of stone flooring, and in front of
that a railing, outside which the people come to worship. Several were
kneeling there as we passed, their palms together in the traditional
attitude of Christian prayer. Others were prone on the floor. The
ragged, the lame and the desolate, blind and deaf to the passing crowd,
knelt upon this bare stone pavement--separated from the altar by a
railing beyond which they might not pass--their hands lifted in
supplication or adoration, their heads bowed in humility. The scene
called to mind the legend of Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer, whose
mission Longfellow has so beautifully described. We looked at the silent
god standing within the lotus--sacred emblem of humanity--veiled by the
pervading incense, and we wondered how many of those unspoken prayers
penetrated to the mysterious depths where Buddha dwells.
To the left of the altar is a space reserved for the priesthood, where
Buddhist monks come daily to their morning devotions and religious
exercises. Although the priests do not live in the temple, they
sometimes pass the night here in meditation, seated on the long rows of
mats that we saw arranged in orderly fashion. About forty priests are
usually in attendance at the morning services, but on occasions of State
ceremony larger numbers gather from all parts of the Empire. On the
twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth of each month services are held in memory
of the founders of the temple.
The priests conducted us between the railing and the altar, bowing their
heads as they passed. A number of small coins were scattered on the
matting--these were offerings left by worshippers. Our hosts, who
treated us with unfailing courtesy, pointed out further details of the
building, and afterward took us to a room where we were served with tea
and small cakes. We were told that this apartment had been donated by
the present Emperor.
We followed one of the priests into the walled garden and through its
narrow paths. We crossed brooks on bamboo bridges, and looked into the
calm waters. Among the trees were small temples and tea-houses
overhanging the water, and curiously shaped stones and crooked pines.
Hongwanji garden has all the fascination of a true Japanese garden, and
has, besides, the additional charm of age, for it is over three hundred
years old. We sat in this ideal spot, in one of the pretty tea-houses
with its soft mats and lacquer and polished wood, and again drank tea
from wee porcelain cups and ate sugared cakes.
The memory of this temple garden clings to me still. I imagine the
priests sitting on the little covered wooden bridge gazing into the calm
water with the lotus flowers, while the crickets sing in the
silence--crickets who were perhaps once human, now doing penance for
their sins. I hear the priests murmur over and over _Namu Amida Butsu_,
the Japanese rendering of the Sanskrit invocation meaning "Hail to the
Eternal Splendour of Buddha!" I see them meditating on the unending life
that they believe to be in store for them, until evil shall have left
them, and they shall be absorbed into Nirvana, "as a dewdrop sinks into
the shining sea."
As we left the temple we were shown the great coil of ropes made of
human hair. There were originally twenty-nine of these cables, the
longest of which measured two hundred feet. It seems that at the time
when the old shrine was burned, and they wished to rebuild it, the
church had no funds. People came together from all over the Empire, and
set to work like beavers. The men gave what they could, in work and
money; the women had nothing, yet they, too, wished to help. In a frenzy
of religious zeal they cut off their hair--their most treasured
possession--and cast it at the foot of the shrine of Buddha. From their
offerings were woven the cables that hoisted the tiles to the roof and
lifted into place the great wooden pillars of the temple.
The temple of Buddha, with its unpainted exterior, its bare pillars in
their naked simplicity, its glint of gold, its magnificent carvings, the
delicate fragrance of burning incense, its candles, its wealth of
symbolism--all this is a fading memory; yet its fascination lingers. We
wonder how much of the temple of Buddha we really saw, how much we felt
the presence of that power which is so intimately linked with the spirit
of the East and with the genius of the Oriental peoples. We felt the
reverence--unexpressed in word or outward act--with which our hosts, the
priests, drew our attention to the inscription above the altar, painted
in golden Japanese characters by the hand of the late Emperor, which,
being interpreted, means, "See Truth."
The temples at Nikko, the finest in Japan, are part Shinto, part
Buddhist. A ceremony which we once witnessed there, in the mausoleum of
Iyeyasu, the great Shogun, was full of interest. After taking off our
shoes at the entrance, we wandered over the mats, looking at the
gloriously carved panels, till we were informed that all was ready and
were invited to enter an inner room. I was given a peach-coloured
brocade robe, which I threw over my shoulders, but was told that it was
not necessary to don the skirt, which forms the rest of the ceremonial
costume. They gave us two camp-chairs, as we preferred to sit on them
rather than on our heels, in Japanese fashion. On either side of us
squatted three priests in white and green robes with curious black
openwork hats on their heads. We faced the inner shrine, in which stood,
on a table, a vase containing the gold paper for purification, such as
is seen in Shinto shrines.
[Illustration: THE HONDEN, IYEYASU, NIKKO.]
Then began the most unearthly music that I have ever heard, made by the
three priests on L.'s side, who were musicians. One had a strange
instrument made of flutes put together, resembling a small organ, which
gave out a sound somewhat like a bagpipe. While this man played a weird
tune on his pipes, another with a different instrument made a most
unpleasant whistle, like that of a train, which continued throughout the
entire ceremony.
Besides the green-robed musicians there were on my side white-robed
priests with even quainter head-gear, who moved about on their knees and
presented food and drink before the altar with many bows and much
clapping of their hands. This service led to the opening of the door of
the inner shrine, into which we were afterward taken and served with
_saké_. Then we were conducted behind one beautiful set of painted
screens after another till we came into the innermost place, gloriously
decorated in lacquer and painting but in absolute darkness, except for
the glow of the lanterns which we took with us. On emerging from these
hidden recesses, we left the temple, with polite bows to the priests and
thanks for their courtesy. As we walked away from the building, we could
hear the screeching instruments, the priests going on with the service
as the offerings were brought out of the sacred place.
Just as we were departing, I was given this translation of the Precepts
of Iyeyasu, which I have been glad to preserve as a souvenir of
beautiful Nikko:
PRECEPTS OF IYEYASU
Life is like unto a long journey with a heavy load. Let thy
steps be slow and steady, that thou stumble not. Persuade
thyself that imperfection and inconvenience is the natural lot
of mortals, and there will be no room for discontent, neither
for despair. When ambitious desires arise in thy heart, recall
the days of extremity thou hast passed through. Forbearance is
the root of quietness and assurance for ever. Look upon wrath as
thy enemy. If thou knowest only what it is to conquer, and
knowest not what it is to be defeated, woe unto thee! it will
fare ill with thee. Find fault with thyself rather than with
others. Better the less than the more.
_Translated by Prof. K. Wadagaki,
of the Imperial University._
The Japanese, like Arabs and Hindoos, not content with worshipping at
near-by shrines, often make pilgrimages to holy places at a distance.
There are several of these resorts in the Empire, some of the most
famous being the temple of the Sun-Goddess at Ise, the holy mountain
Fuji, the monastery of Koya-san, and the lovely island of Miyajima, in
the Inland Sea. As most of the pilgrims belong to the artisan and
peasant classes, and have scarcely more than enough for their daily
needs, they have evolved a scheme for defraying the expenses of these
trips by forming a great number of associations, or brotherhoods, the
members of which contribute each a cent a month. At the proper season
for the pilgrimage certain members are chosen by lot to represent the
brotherhood at some shrine, and their expenses are paid out of the
common fund. No distinctive dress is worn by most of them, but those on
their way to Fuji and other mountains are attired in white garments and
broad straw hats.
[Illustration: OFF MIYAJIMA.]
These Japanese pilgrims are not only performing a pious duty, they are
also taking their summer vacation. After their prayers are said, as at
the various festivals I have described, they do not hesitate to join in
all the amusements that are provided. It makes little difference to the
mass of the common people whether they worship at a Shinto or a Buddhist
shrine, and the Government actually changed Kompira from Buddhist to
Shinto without in the least detracting from its popularity. The relics
guarded in these temples of Buddha remind us very much of the sacred
memorials cherished by the Roman Church--holy garments, holy swords,
pictures by famous saints, and bits of the cremated body of a Buddha.
It was from her religions that Japan drew her Knightly Code, _Bushido_,
obedience to which raised the _samurai_ from the mere brutal wielder of
swords to the chivalrous warrior. From Shinto he imbibed veneration for
his ancestors, the strongest possible sense of duty to his parents, and
the most self-sacrificing loyalty to the sovereign. Buddhism gave him a
stoical composure in the presence of danger, a contempt for life, and
"friendliness with death." It made him calm and self-contained. Finally,
the _samurai_ obtained from the teachings of Confucius his principles of
action toward his fellow men.
_Bushido_ is spoken of as "the Soul of the People." The Greeks of old
located the soul in the kidneys, the Romans in the heart, and it is only
in recent years that it has been described as in the head; even then the
soul at best is indefinable, so I am at a loss to tell exactly what
_Bushido_ means.
When I asked a Japanese to define _Bushido_, he answered, "Loyalty--the
loyalty of the servant to his master, of the son to his father. The
servant is willing to make any sacrifice for the master. The Forty-Seven
Ronins are an example of this. General Nogi is another instance of the
same thing. Nogi felt that his death would remind the younger generation
of the Spartan virtues of the older days, which they were forgetting,
and would be a good thing for the country. He also wished to die in
order that his master, the Emperor, might not be lonely."
The Japanese national hymn, as translated by Professor Chamberlain,
fitly embodies this sentiment of loyalty to the Emperor:
"A thousand years of happy reign be thine;
Rule on, my lord, till what are pebbles now
By age united, to mighty rocks shall grow,
Whose venerable sides the moss doth line."
"Among the rare jewels of race and civilization which have slowly grown
to perfection is the Japanese virtue of loyalty," writes Dr. W. E.
Griffis; "In supreme devotion, in utter consecration to his master, in
service, through life and death, a _samurai's_ loyalty to his lord knew
no equal.... Wife, children, fortune, health, friends, were as
naught--but rather to be trampled under foot, if necessary, in order to
reach that 'last supreme measure of devotion' which the _samurai_ owed
to his lord. The matchless sphere of rock crystal, flawless and perfect,
is the emblem of Japanese loyalty."
The material side of _Bushido_ is the fighting spirit, and the germ of
the spiritual side is the idea of fair play in fight--a germ which
developed into a lofty code of honour. In feudal times Japanese warriors
endured severe discipline. They were obliged to be expert with the
fencing-stick, skilled in _jiu-jutsu_, the aristocratic form of
wrestling, in archery, and in the use of the spear and the iron fan, as
well as the double sword. They felt that mastery of the art of battle
gave self-control and mental calm.
Mental exercises were practised more generally in olden times than they
are to-day. There are several cults for the training of the mind, such
as _Kiai_ and _Zen_, both Buddhist practices. The secret of _Kiai_
condensed is: "I make personality my magic power. I make promptitude my
limbs. I make self-protection my laws."
_Zen_ teaches: "Commit no evil, do only good, and preserve the purity of
your heart and will. If you keep aloof from mundane fame and the lusts
of the flesh, and are inspired by a firm resolve to attain the Great
Truth, the gates of Stoicism will be opened to you."
_Bushido_ is the foundation of the nation, built of rock. It is strong
and true, and whatever is built upon it in the future, even if it topple
and fall, can always be rebuilt again, for the rock is there for ever.
May they build something worthy to rise on such a firm foundation!
CHAPTER IX
NEW LIGHT FOR OLD
The Old and the New Japan jostle each other at every turn. One day we
visited the tomb of the heroic Nogi, who sacrificed his life on the
altar of _Bushido_, and the next we received at the Embassy the pupils
of the Tokyo Normal School, who will have so large a share in the
continued remodelling of the nation. The Land of the Rising Sun has
undergone decided changes within the last fifty years in her desire to
make herself the equal of the Great Powers of Christendom; she has been
willing to cast aside tradition, to modify her form of government, to
adopt Western customs. But none of these things appears to me so vital
as the reconstruction of her educational system and the free admission
of a new religious belief.
The old system of Japanese education was derived from Chinese models as
early as the eighth century, but for many hundred years it was barely
kept alive in Buddhist monasteries, and was never fully carried out
until the Tokugawa period. The higher institutions were devoted entirely
to the study of Chinese history and literature, and their object was
chiefly to train efficient servants of the State. Buddhist priests were
the usual teachers of the lower classes, but retired _samurai_ often
opened elementary schools, such as that pictured so vividly by one of
their pupils:[7]
[7] Dr. Nitobe, in "The Japanese Nation."
"This primitive school," he says, "consisted of a couple of rooms, where
some twenty or thirty boys (and a very few girls), ranging in age from
seven to fourteen, spent the forenoon, each reading in turn with the
teacher for half an hour some paragraphs from Confucius and Mencius, and
devoting the rest of the time to calligraphy. Of the three R's, 'riting
demanded the most time and reading but little, 'rithmetic scarcely any,
except in a school attended by children of the common people as distinct
from those of the _samurai_. Sons of the _samurai_ class had other
curricula than the three R's. They began fencing, _jiu-jutsu_,
spear-practice and horsemanship, when quite young, and usually took
these lessons in the early morning. As a child of seven, I remember
being roused by my mother before dawn in the winter, and reluctantly,
often in positively bad humour, picking my way barefooted through the
snow. The idea was to accustom children to hardihood and endurance.
There was little fun in the schoolroom, except such as our ingenious
minds devised behind our teacher's back."
Yet this primitive system of education trained leaders of sufficient
wisdom, unselfishness and breadth of view to guide Japan safely from the
old to the new. Okubo and Kido, two members of the embassy that was sent
to the treaty powers in 1871, discovered, upon landing in San Francisco,
that the very bell-boys and waiters in the hotel understood the issues
at stake in the election then going on. This convinced them that nothing
but education could enable Japan to hold her own beside the Western
world. Okubo said, "We must first educate leaders, and the rest will
follow." Kido said, "We must educate the masses; for unless the people
are trained, they cannot follow their leaders." Between the two, they
got something of both.
The younger generation lost no time in availing themselves of their new
privileges, and indeed they are to-day so eager for learning that, after
their daily work, many of them sit up the greater part of the night to
study. In consequence, they often grow anæmic, nervous and melancholy.
While the Japanese seem now to have adapted their elementary schools to
the needs of their people, they have not been so successful with their
secondary schools, called "middle" for boys and "high" for girls. The
course of study for boys is much the same as in this country, except
that instead of Greek and Latin they have Chinese and Yamato--old
Japanese. English occupies six hours a week through the whole five-year
course, but is taught only for reading, so that while most educated
Japanese can understand some English and have read the classics of our
literature, they may not be able to carry on a conversation in our
language. In girls' high schools there is a room that might be styled "a
laboratory of manners," where pupils have a "course in etiquette,
including ceremonial tea and flower arrangement." The certificate of the
middle school legally admits a student to the government colleges, but
as there are only eight of these institutions in the country, they
cannot receive all who apply. Consequently, students must pass a rigid
entrance examination. There are four Imperial universities, of which
that in Tokyo is the oldest and has about six thousand students, and
several private universities, one of which, Waseda, has an enrollment of
more than seven thousand.
It did not escape the notice of the wisest leaders that perhaps the
weakest point in this new educational system was its lack of moral
training, all religious teaching being forbidden in government schools.
Accordingly, in 1890, the late Emperor issued the Imperial Rescript on
Education, a printed copy of which with the Emperor's autograph is
sacredly cherished in every school, and upon which nearly all modern
Japanese text-books of ethics are based. The most important part of this
document reads as follows:
"Ye, Our subjects, be filial to your parents, affectionate to your
brothers and sisters; as husbands and wives be harmonious, as friends
true; bear yourselves in modesty and moderation; extend your benevolence
to all; pursue learning and cultivate the arts, and thereby develop
intellectual faculties and perfect moral powers; furthermore, advance
public good and promote common interests; always respect the
Constitution and observe the laws; should emergency arise, offer
yourselves courageously to the State; and thus guard and maintain the
prosperity of Our Imperial Throne, coeval with heaven and earth."
I was much interested in two secondary schools in Tokyo. We had the
pleasure of entertaining the graduating class of young men from the
Normal School. Professor Swift, who accompanied them, had been teaching
in Japan for twenty-five years, having had the present Emperor at one
time in his school. He said his students had never been received at the
Embassy before, and in fact, he thought none of them had ever been in a
European house. There were about forty of the Japanese and one young
Chinaman. I think most of them were perhaps about twenty years old. They
wore European dress, but the Japanese master came in his native costume.
According to their rules of politeness, they gathered about the door,
and could scarcely be induced to come in to shake hands with us. When
they finally did come, they backed into a corner, and in true Japanese
fashion had to be invited three times before they would enter the
tea-room.
These students go out through Japan to teach English after they
graduate. They did not speak English, however, quite so well as I had
expected, but no doubt they were a little frightened, and probably they
were more used to such questions as I heard at one school when the
teacher read to the class, "Where was Phineas when the mob gathered
about the portal?" Our guests enjoyed the mechanical bear and tiger,
for, like most people of the East, the Japanese are especially fond of
such toys. The students seemed to take interest in the photographs also,
and when one asked for music, we started the Victor and allowed them to
choose their own records.
Male and female teachers are trained in separate normal schools, which
are government institutions. All their expenses--for board, clothing,
tuition and books--are met by the State. After a preparatory course of
one year, they take the regular course of four years, which covers a
very full curriculum. Music, gymnastics, manual training, law and
economics form part of this very modern course of study, and commerce
and agriculture may be added. English is also included, but made
optional. The necessary training in teaching is given in a practice
school attached to each normal school. A shorter course of one year is
devoted chiefly to the study of methods and practical work. A severe
military training is given in the schools for males. Graduates from the
regular course are obliged to serve the State as teachers for seven
years, and those from the shorter course for two years.
[Illustration: MISS TSUDA'S SCHOOL, TOKYO.]
The second school which particularly interested me was Miss Tsuda's.
Miss Tsuda herself was one of several Japanese children from good
families who, when they were very young, were sent to America to be
educated. Three of the girls, it is said, decided at school how they
wished to live their lives. One said that above all things she should
marry for love and in the Western fashion, and so it was--she met a
young Japanese studying in America, and they were married and returned
to Japan. The second one said she wished to be a power, and she returned
home and in Japanese fashion was married by her parents to a very
prominent leader in political life. Miss Tsuda felt that she wished to
help her countrywomen, and that she would remain unmarried and devote
her life to education. So, curiously enough, these three women have
carried out the ideals of their girlhood.
The school for the higher education of Japanese girls which Miss Tsuda
has established is practically a post-graduate course, to fit them for
teachers. One class that I visited was reading really difficult
English--something of George Eliot's. Miss Tsuda herself is a graduate
of Bryn Mawr, and speaks most beautiful English--perhaps the most
perfect I have heard from any Japanese. The school is supported chiefly,
I understand, by people in Philadelphia. I was told that the Bible was
taught, but that the study of it was not compulsory, and that many of
the girls were Buddhists. These students are from all stations in life.
The outside of the buildings was in Japanese style, but the schoolrooms
were like those in America; the pupils sat in chairs and had desks. I
inquired why they did not sit on the mats, and Miss Tsuda said they had
adopted chairs and desks because the girls felt that on the whole the
chairs were more comfortable, and that they could move more quickly. It
is thought the race will grow taller if they all learn to use chairs,
instead of sitting on their legs as they have always done. The majority
of the girls had writing-boxes and books upon the floors of their own
rooms, and kept their bedding in a cupboard after the custom of their
people, but they were allowed to have chairs if they asked for them.
Hanging upon the _shoji_ were Christian mottoes, photographs of their
relatives, and in one case a picture of Nogi. European food is given
here, as well as Japanese, and our methods of cooking are taught.
These students have modern gymnastic training every day, and they also
play baseball, which the old-fashioned Japanese think very unladylike.
Every Saturday evening they play games, have charades, and act little
plays, both in English and Japanese.
On a previous visit, some years ago, L. had gone over the Imperial
University with Professor Yoshida. At that time Tokyo University and the
Engineering College had lately been amalgamated. He said it seemed
strange, coming from an American university, to see the complete neglect
of what we call classics, Latin and Greek. All the modern sciences,
medicine, the 'ologies and law were studied in English, German and
French.
One department, the seismic, established especially for the separate
study of volcanic disturbances and earthquakes, was then peculiar to
this university. It is particularly interesting to the Japanese, for
they are constantly experiencing such disturbances--the late eruption in
the province of Satsuma is a hint that results might be still more
serious.
In the art schools in Tokyo, which we visited, we saw the students
painting and carving in their peculiar, painstaking way.
An American teacher, who is not herself a missionary but has lived with
missionaries in Japan for some time, and whom I consider an impartial
judge, has given me her opinions on educational matters, including the
work of the mission schools. The Japanese need, she feels, both moral
and commercial instruction of the kind that only Western teachers can
give. This teaching should be well given by the mission schools. At
first, as in Korea, these schools were the only sources of Western
thought, so they were frequented by all the Japanese who wished for any
sort of progress. Everything was gobbled down hungrily. Even if they
were not religiously inclined, they pretended to be, for this was their
only means of learning English.
At the present time, the government schools teach Western branches, but
they are hampered by a narrow-minded educational board with antiquated
methods, and tied up by miles of red tape, so that their teaching of
Western studies is away behind the times. We might consider the English
heard all over Japan a fair sample of the superficiality that prevails,
but, to be impartial, we must take into account the difficulties that
have to be overcome by students and teachers. Because of the ideographs
and other peculiarities of their own tongue, it is far more difficult
for the Japanese to learn English than for us to learn French or German.
Government schools are superior in Japanese branches--they teach
Japanese and Chinese classics and ethics, Japanese law and ideals better
than the mission schools--and certificates from them give better
positions, so ambitious Japanese go to them, but in Western subjects
they try to do too many things. The students work only for examinations,
not for really substantial progress. This is noticeable, except in rare
individuals, who would probably progress under any conditions. The best
Japanese educators realize this as well as the foreigners and greatly
deplore it.
The reason that some of the mission schools are not so good as they
might be is that they are too much occupied with proselyting, and hardly
give more than superficial training to students. It would be better for
the Japanese in the end if more real educators were sent out rather than
so many preachers. If the mission schools would combine in having
Japanese teachers for Japanese subjects, there could be concentration of
effort and expense.
There is also a crying need, my friend says, of schools for foreign
children, because there are no good ones in Japan, and it is expensive
to send the boys and girls to America or Europe. An international
foreign language school, too, is much needed. _The ignorance of foreign
tongues is one of the greatest barriers to amicable relations with other
countries._ The inscrutability of the Japanese, which we hear so much
about, is due principally to their lack of familiarity with languages.
To understand the religious situation in Japan at all, it is necessary
to take another backward glance over her history. Except during the two
hundred and fifty years of the Tokugawa Period, the country has always
been open to foreigners and foreign ideas. Chinese and Koreans, who
brought new religions, a new civilization and a new philosophy, were
gladly received. Young men from Japan sought learning in other
countries, even in distant India. So, when Francis Xavier and his
intrepid Jesuits made their way thither in the sixteenth century, they
found a cordial welcome awaiting them.
For fifty years Christian work went on; hundreds of thousands of
Japanese accepted the Roman Catholic faith. But the Roman Church claims
to be superior to the State, and the rulers of Japan saw reason to
believe that the priests were aiming at political power. At once they
reversed their former policy, branded Christianity as "_Ja-kyo_," the
"Evil Way," and set about its extermination. Thousands of converts laid
down their lives for the new faith in the terrible persecution that
followed; foreigners were driven out of Japan, and her own people were
forbidden to leave her shores.
After the "Long Sleep" of the Tokugawa Period, the Meiji Era, known as
the "Awakening," began in 1867. Once more Christianity was brought in,
but this time in the guise of Protestantism, and again it made rapid
progress. By the middle of the eighties some Japanese leaders of opinion
were even advising that it should be declared the national religion,
although this was largely for political reasons. However, full religious
liberty was granted in 1889.
In the early nineties came the reaction. The conservative element in the
nation began to make itself heard against the mad rush for new things.
Japanese students returning from abroad brought stories of vice and
crime in Christian lands. The Japanese began to discover, too, that the
standard of Christian ethics was a higher one than they had ever known,
and demanded a change of life as well as of belief, and that the
diplomacy of so-called Christian countries was often anything but
Christian. So those who had simply "gone with the crowd" into the
Christian ranks fell away. The churches were sifted.
This revulsion of feeling was not lasting. Gradually the Japanese came
to modify their conclusions. Those who remained in the churches did so
from conviction, and a stronger church was the result. In this period of
reaction Japan simply stopped to take breath, to adjust itself to the
new life upon which it had entered. Progress now may be slower, but it
is more substantial.
The missionary question is absorbing, if one has time to see what has
been done and what is being done now in the schools and kindergartens
and hospitals, although to-day these Christian teachers are not playing
so important a rôle as they did a few years ago. At first the Japanese
went to the foreigners as their advisers and teachers, but now that they
have travelled more and know more of Western ideas they do not need them
so much. Six hundred thousand dollars goes yearly from America to Japan
for missions. Japan is a poor country, but some people feel it is time
for the rich men there to come forward and contribute to their own
charities, rather than to let foreigners do so large a share. I feel
that there is more need of missionaries in China to-day, especially
medical missionaries.
Fifty years ago there was desperate need of medical missionaries in
Japan. When Dr. Hepburn opened his dispensary in a Buddhist temple at
Kanagawa, diseased beggars were very common on the streets, for
hospitals were unknown. Now there are over one thousand public hospitals
managed by Japanese doctors, who are well fitted for their
profession--some have been educated in Germany and are very skilful.
As there are natural hot springs in Japan, lepers in the early stages of
the disease go there in the hope of being cured, but as a cure is not
possible, they gradually become worse and cannot leave the country, so
one often sees them begging in the streets. The only beggars I have ever
seen in Japan have been victims of leprosy.
Up to 1907 there were no hospitals for lepers except those founded by
foreign missionaries. In that year the Government established five of
these institutions, but as they are always crowded, the poor sufferers
cannot be received unless they are very ill. Father Testevinde, a French
Catholic priest, founded the first private hospital for lepers--which is
still the largest--in 1889. Miss Riddell, an Englishwoman, has
established another, which she is now trying to enlarge.
Eye troubles are especially prevalent in Japan, but the blind earn their
living by massage, and the note of their flute is often heard in the
street. There is a great deal of tuberculosis, but there are no
sanatoriums for consumptives, who are taken into the regular hospitals.
As the sufferers are kept in their homes until the last stages, the
disease is spreading rapidly.
It is very common to see children afflicted with skin-diseases. Japanese
mothers believe that inborn wickedness comes out in this form. Since
they no longer shave the children's heads as in the old days, however,
the skin trouble is disappearing somewhat. Well-organized dispensaries
and district nurses are certainly much needed in out-of-the-way
villages, but no provision has as yet been made for such work. Midwives,
however, are to be found.
The Episcopal hospital in Tokyo, where Japanese women are taught
nursing, is supposed to be the best in the country. Dr. Teusler is doing
excellent work there. The Japanese hospitals are not so well managed as
the best foreign ones, and the training for women nurses is not so long
or so thorough as in America. It is difficult for foreigners to judge
their hospitals, because they are intended for Japanese patients and
their whole manner of living is so different from ours. At first, on
account of native customs, only the poorer class of women could be
induced to take up nursing as a profession, but to-day the better class
are engaging in it.
In no branch of medical work has Japan made greater progress or achieved
finer results than in the Red Cross. In 1877 the _Hakuaisha_ was
formed--the Society of Universal Love--which cared for the wounded in
the great civil war. Japan joined the European Red Cross League in 1887.
The Japanese Red Cross was finely organized for service during the war
with Russia. The first work was the care of the Russian sailors at
Chemulpo, who were even presented with artificial limbs by the Empress
of Japan. During the war six thousand sick and wounded Russian prisoners
were cared for by the Japanese. In return the Russians subscribed to the
Japanese Red Cross. The women nurses remained at home stations, all
relief detachments at the front consisting of men only, but on the
relief ships there were both sexes. An American nurse who was in Japan
during the war said we had many things to learn from the Japanese and
few to teach, in the way of handling the wounded.
The pamphlet called, "The Red Cross in the Far East," states that if a
member dies, his _hair_ or his _ashes_ with the death certificate and
his personal belongings shall be forwarded to his former quarters.
The Red Cross in Japan numbers now more than one million five hundred
thousand members, has twelve hospitals and two hospital ships, and
nearly four thousand doctors, apothecaries and nurses ready for service.
On her first voyage, the hospital ship _Kosai Maru_, was out from March,
1904, until December, 1905, and transported more than thirteen thousand
patients. There are Red Cross stations also in Formosa and Port Arthur.
The Empress Dowager often attended the meetings of the society, and
assisted with large contributions. The Japanese Red Cross is said to be
the largest, the best and the richest in the world.
[Illustration: RED CROSS HOSPITAL BUILDINGS.]
To return to distinctively religious work, the time that I could myself
give to the observation of missions was limited, but I saw something of
the Episcopal work in Tokyo. Bishop McKim was absent most of the winter
in the Philippines, but the Rev. Dr. Wallace, whom we had known in
Honolulu years before, conducted the services. Japanese services were
also held at the cathedral, and a school for native children was carried
on by the mission. The bishop's house and that of Dr. Wallace, which
were in the cathedral compound, were of brick and looked fairly
comfortable.
As the lower classes are decidedly emotional and are easily influenced
by revival meetings, while the better class naturally tend toward
philosophy and other intellectual studies, there is room for Christian
workers of different denominations. In actual numbers there are more of
the Episcopalians than of any other Protestant denomination, as they
include the English, Canadians, Australians and Americans. Next to these
in number are the Presbyterians. There is a Unitarian mission conducted
by the Rev. Dr. MacCauley, who has been there many years and whom we
knew well. The Baptists are prominent in Yokohama. The American Board
missionaries--the Congregationalists--I have been told, do the best
work.
A very kindly spirit exists among them all, but they could economize
greatly if they worked even more in union. Each mission, for instance,
has its Japanese secretary, because of the difficulty of the language,
but if they combined, they could do with fewer secretaries, and could
also have Japanese teachers for Japanese subjects. A few big,
broad-minded men--like Dr. Greene, who was looked up to by every
one--who were men of affairs as well as clergymen, could do much good by
acting as the heads of the missions and directing the Japanese
Christians, somewhat as is done in the stations of the American Board.
Right here I wish to pay my tribute to the beautiful life and the great
work of the Rev. Dr. Greene, whose death last September left the
American Board mission poorer for his loss. Dr. Greene and his wife went
to Japan in 1869, when the government edict banning Christianity was
still in force. They lived to see the country under a constitutional
government, with a modern system of education and full religious
liberty. Dr. Greene was a missionary statesman; he was the intimate
friend of Count Okuma and other Japanese leaders. As teacher, author,
translator of the New Testament, and president of the Asiatic Society,
he did a varied work. A few months before his death the Emperor
conferred upon Dr. Greene the Third Class of the Order of the Rising
Sun, the highest decoration awarded to civilians residing in Japan.
A work frequently overlooked is the service rendered in translation and
the compilation of dictionaries. When Dr. Hepburn, to whom I have
already referred, reached Japan in 1859, immediately after establishing
his dispensary, he began the preparation of a Japanese-English
dictionary, and as he had previously lived for several years in China,
he was able to make rapid progress. In 1867 he brought out his great
lexicon, which was published in Shanghai, because printing from metal
type was not then done in Japan. When an invoice of it arrived in
Yokohama, "Two worlds, as by an isthmus, seemed to have been united....
As a rapid feat of intellect and industry, it seemed a _tour de force_,
a Marathon run." Later, Dr. Hepburn assisted in translating the Bible
into Japanese. For all his work--as physician, lexicographer, translator
of the Bible--and especially for his noble character, he was known in
Japan as "_Kunshi_," the superior man. Engraved on his tombstone are the
words, "God bless the Japanese."
The following statistics, given out recently by the Japanese Bureau of
Religion, are interesting as showing the number of adherents to each of
the great faiths:
Christians, 140,000
Buddhists, 29,420,000
Believing Buddhists, 18,910,000
Shintoists, 19,390,000
Believing Shintoists, 710,000
Temples with priests, 72,128
Temples without priests, 37,417
The discrepancy between the number of "believing Shintoists" and
Shintoists is explained when we remember that all persons in government
employ--military and naval officers, officials in the civil service, and
teachers in government schools--must be nominal Shintoists, even though
they are Buddhists at heart.
I cannot better close this chapter than by giving the opinions of a few
representative people of different faiths and nationalities upon the
subject of missions in Japan.
Professor Masumi Hino of Doshisha University, _a Christian Japanese_,
gives reasons why none of the old faiths will meet the needs of Japan
to-day. He says, "Shinto stands for polytheism, which in Japan stands
side by side with skepticism and religious indifference." He credits
Confucianism with teaching "fair and square dealings with every man,"
but adds, "It nevertheless fails to meet the people's yearning after the
eternal values." Buddhism will also, he believes, "fail to be the
supreme spiritual force in Japan," because it does not attach sufficient
importance to ethical teaching; because it sinks the individual in "the
absolute and the whole;" and because its belief in immortality is "based
on the pessimistic view of life."
Professor Hino acknowledges his own debt and that of the Japanese people
to all three religions, but questions whether any of these can meet the
pressure of twentieth-century life and problems. For himself he believes
Christianity alone "is able to meet the demands of the coming generation
in Japan."
Mr. E. J. Harrison, _a resident of Japan for fourteen years_, says in
his book, "The Fighting Spirit of Japan":
"I venture the opinion merely for what it may be worth, but that opinion
is, that those who flatter themselves that the day will ever dawn when
the Japanese as a people will profess Christianity imagine a vain thing,
and are pursuing a will-o'-the-wisp. They will dabble in Christianity as
they have dabbled and are dabbling in numerous other 'anities,' 'isms,'
and 'ologies'; but the sort of Christianity which will ultimately be
evolved in Japan will have very little in common with its various
prototypes of the Occident." Most people residing in Japan for any
length of time agree with Mr. Harrison.
Then there is the _missionary opinion_. As recently as August 22, 1913,
Rev. Dr. Greene wrote from Tokyo:
"Everything points to an increased appreciation of the place of religion
in human life. The rapid headway which the more spiritual philosophy of
the West, as represented by Bergson and Eucken, is making among the
thoughtful men of Japan, including the young men of the universities,
suggests much promise. Professor Anezaki, head of the department of
Comparative Religion in the Imperial University of Tokyo, said not long
ago that the students were weary of the materialism still propagated by
certain of the older Japanese thinkers, and were seeking guidance of
younger men imbued with the more recent philosophical thought.
"If the Christian leaders will but put themselves in harmony with this
deep-flowing stream, they may well indulge the brightest hopes."
At a special gathering of public men in Tokyo in 1913, when evangelistic
preachers from America were present, Baron Sakatani, the Mayor, although
_not a Christian himself_, said:
"You men of the West owe us a lot. Your civilization has come in and
broken down very largely the old faiths of Japan. We are looking for a
new and better one. You owe it to us to help us find something to take
the place of that which we have lost."
A year or two ago, the Minister of Education, who is _not a Christian_,
called a conference of Buddhists, Shintoists and Christians, at which he
said, "What Japan needs is more vital religion, and I ask each of you to
become more in earnest in bringing your faith to bear upon the lives of
our people."
CHAPTER X
PROSE, POETRY AND PLAYS
The Japanese are true story-tellers, and for centuries their folklore
has been passed down by word of mouth. The stories which Madame Ozaki,
Pasteur and others have so cleverly translated into English are a great
delight to me, many of them are so full of humour, pathos and charm.
They fall into three characteristic types:--stories of the unreal world,
legends of the great warriors of feudal days, and tales of love. Instead
of trying to describe them I will give an example of each in condensed
form.
Fairy tales play an important part in the literature of the people, and,
except possibly the Norwegian, I think none compare with those of Japan.
They have a strange and fascinating quality which specially
distinguishes them from ours--they deal with imps and goblins, with
devils, foxes and badgers, with the grotesque and supernatural, instead
of the pretty dancing fairies, the good fairies that our children know.
"The Travels of the Two Frogs," from the charming version in Mr. William
Elliot Griffis' "Fairy Tales of Old Japan," is given here in condensed
form.
* * * * *
THE TRAVELS OF TWO FROGS
Once upon a time there lived two frogs--one in a well in Kyoto,
the other in a lotus pond in Osaka, forty miles away. Now in the
Land of the Gods they have a proverb, "The frog in the well
knows not the great ocean," and the Kyoto frog had so often
heard this sneer from the maids who came to draw water with
their long bamboo-handled buckets that he resolved to travel and
see the "great ocean."
Mr. Frog informed the family of his intentions. Mrs. Frog wept a
great deal, but finally drying her eyes with her paper
handkerchief she declared that she would count the hours on her
fingers until he came back. She tied up a little lacquered box
full of boiled rice and snails for his journey, wrapped it round
with a silk napkin, and putting his extra clothes in a bundle,
swung it on his back. Tying it over his neck, he seized his
staff and was ready to go.
"_Sayonara!_" cried he, as with a tear in his eye he walked
away--for that is the Japanese for "good-bye."
"_Sayonara!_" croaked Mrs. Frog and the whole family of young
frogs in a chorus.
Mr. Frog, being now on land and out of his well, noticed that
men did not leap, but walked upright on their hind legs, and not
wishing to be eccentric he began walking the same way.
Now about the same time, an old Osaka frog had become restless
and dissatisfied with life on the edge of a lotus pond. Close by
the side of his pond was a monastery full of Buddhist monks who
every day studied their sacred rolls and droned over the books
of the sage, to learn them by heart. Now the monks often came
down to the edge of the pond to look at the pink and white lotus
flowers. One summer day, as a little frog, hardly out of his
tadpole state, with a fragment of tail still left, sat basking
on a huge round leaf, one monk said to another, "Of what does
that remind you?" "That the babies of frogs will become but
frogs!" answered one shaven-pate, laughing; "What think you?"
"The white lotus springs out of the black mud," said the other
solemnly, and they both walked away.
The old frog, sitting near-by, overheard them and began to
philosophize: "Humph! the babies of frogs will become but frogs,
hey? If the lotus springs from mud, why shouldn't a frog become
a man? If my pet son should travel abroad and see the world--go
to Kyoto, for instance--why shouldn't he be as wise as those
shining-headed men, I wonder? I shall try it, anyhow. I'll send
my son on a journey to Kyoto--I'll cast the lion's cub into the
valley!"
Now it so happened that the old frog from Kyoto and the "lion's
cub" from Osaka started each from his home at the same time.
Nothing of importance occurred to either of them until they met
on a hill near Hashimoto, which is half-way between the two
cities. Both were footsore and websore, and very, very tired.
"_Ohio!_" said the lion's cub to the old frog, by way of good
morning, as he fell on all fours and bowed his head to the
ground three times.
"_Ohio!_" replied the Kyoto frog.
"It is rather fine weather to-day," said the youngster.
"Yes, it is very fine," replied the old fellow.
"I am Gamataro, the oldest son of Lord Bullfrog, Prince of the
Lotus Ditch."
"Your lordship must be weary with your journey. I am Sir Frog of
the Well in Kyoto. I started out to see the great ocean from
Osaka, but I declare my hips are so dreadfully tired that I
believe I'll give up my plan and content myself with a look from
this hill, which I have been told is half-way between the two
cities. While I see Osaka and the sea, you can get a good look
at Kyoto."
"Happy thought!" cried the Osaka frog. Then both reared
themselves up on their hind legs, and stretching up on their
toes, body to body, and neck to neck, propped each other up,
rolled their goggles, and looked steadily, as they supposed, on
the places they each wished to see.
Now every one knows that a frog has eyes mounted in that part of
his head which is front when he is down, and back when he stands
up. Long and steadily they gazed, until at last, their toes
being tired, they fell down on all fours.
"I declare!" said the older frog, "Osaka looks just like Kyoto!
As for that great ocean those stupid maids talked about, I don't
see any at all, unless they mean that strip of river which looks
for all the world like Yedo. I don't believe there is any great
ocean!"
"For my part," said the other, "I am satisfied that it's all
folly to go further, for Kyoto is as like Osaka as one grain of
rice is like another."
Thereupon both congratulated themselves upon the happy,
labour-saving expedient by which they had spared themselves a
long journey. Then they departed, after exchanging many
compliments, and, dropping once more into a frog-hop, leaped
back in half the time ... the one to his well, the other to his
pond. And so to this day the frog in the well knows not and
believes not in the "great ocean!"
* * * * *
Excellent collections of fairy tales have been made by F. Hadland
Davis--"Myths and Legends of Japan"--and R. Gordon Smith--"Ancient Tales
and Folklore of Japan." Children love to read about Princess Blossoming
Brilliantly Like the Flowers on the Trees, and Princess Long as the
Rocks, about Prince Fire Shine, and Prince Fire Shade, and the other
delightful characters with strange names. The story of "The Magic Sword,
the Glittering Jewel and the Heavenly Mirror" is perhaps an especial
favourite.
A good example of the legendary narrative is that of Hachiro Tametomo
the Archer, told in English by Madame Ozaki in her "Warriors of Old
Japan" and given here much condensed.
* * * * *
HACHIRO TAMETOMO THE ARCHER
Hachiro was the eighth son of an illustrious family. As a child
he gave promise of being a very strong man, and as he grew older
this promise was more than fulfilled. He early showed a love of
archery, and his left arm being four inches longer than his
right, there was no one in the realm who could bend the bow
better or send the arrow farther than he could. He became the
most skilful archer in all Japan.
By nature Hachiro was a rough, wild lad who did not know what
fear meant, and he loved to challenge his brother, Yoshitomo, to
fight. As he grew older he grew wilder still, so that even his
own father found him unmanageable. One day a learned man came
from the palace of the Emperor to give the boy a lecture. In the
course of his talk he spoke of Kiyomori, an enemy of the house,
as a clever archer. At this Hachiro laughed aloud in scorn, and
told the learned man that he was both foolish and ignorant.
This rudeness was so contrary to the rules of Japanese courtesy
that it made the lecturer very angry, and when his discourse was
finished he rebuked the boy sternly for his behaviour. When the
boy's father heard what had happened he, too, was angry with his
son for daring to dispute with one who was his elder and
superior, and refused to keep him any longer beneath his roof,
sending him away to the island of Kyushu.
Now Hachiro did not mind his banishment in the least. On the
contrary, he felt like a hound let loose from the leash, and
rejoiced in his liberty. Free to do as he liked at last, his
thirst for conflict became so great that he could not restrain
himself. He challenged the men in all the neighbouring provinces
to match their strength against his, and in the twenty battles
which followed he was never defeated. He was like the silkworm
eating up the mulberry tree, for just as the worm devours one
leaf after another, so Hachiro fought and fought, one after
another, the inhabitants of all the provinces anywhere around,
till he had them all under subjection. By the time he was
eighteen the boy had thus mastered the whole western part of
Japan, and had made himself chief of a large band of outlaws
noted for their reckless bravery.
This band became so powerful that the Government decided to
interfere and put a stop to the outlawry. A regiment of soldiers
was sent against them, but without effect: Hachiro could not be
brought to surrender. As a final resort the Government, hoping
thus to bring the son to bay, arrested Hachiro's father, and
severely punished the old man for being the parent of an
incorrigible rebel.
Although Hachiro was so rude and undisciplined by nature, there
was hidden deep in his heart a sense of duty to his father, and
on this his enemies had counted. He was greatly distressed at
what had happened, and feeling that it was inexcusable to let
his father suffer for his own misdoings, he gave up, without the
least hesitation, all the western lands which had cost him such
hard fighting. Then, taking with him ten men, he went to the
capital and sent in a document signed and sealed in his own
blood, asking the pardon of the Government for all his former
offences and begging for the release of his father. When those
in authority saw his filial piety, they could not find it in
their hearts to treat him with severity, so they merely rebuked
him for his lawlessness and set the old man free.
Soon after this a civil war broke out in the land, for two
brothers of the late Emperor aspired to sit on the Imperial
throne. Hachiro and his father fought on one side, while his
elder brother, Yoshitomo, fought on the other. Hachiro was not
yet twenty years of age, but was more than seven feet in height.
His eyes were sharp and piercing, like those of a hawk, and he
carried himself with pride and noble bearing. He was consulted
about the tactics to be used in a great battle, and if his
advice had been followed, the history of Japan might have been
quite different. As it was, the enemy won the victory.
On seeing the foe approaching the gate where he was stationed,
Hachiro exclaimed, "You feeble worms, I'll surprise you!" and
taking his bow and arrow he shot a _samurai_ through the breast.
The arrow was carried in alarm to the general. It was made from
strong bamboo and the metal head was like a chisel--it looked
more like the arrow of a demon than a man, and the general
retired in fear from before the gate.
When Yoshitomo came up, however, he was not afraid, but cried
out, "What a wicked deed you commit to fight against your elder
brother!" To this Hachiro answered, "It is wrong for me to take
up arms against my brother, truly, but are you not an undutiful
son to take up arms against your father?" The elder brother had
no words to answer this, and Hachiro knew that he could kill him
as he stood there. But they were brothers, born of the same
mother, and he felt that he could not do it. Yet he could not
resist raising his bow and arrow and taking a good aim at the
helmet which Yoshitomo wore, shooting his arrow right into the
middle of the star that topped it.
In the end Yoshitomo's forces were so much greater that Hachiro
and his father were taken prisoners. The older man was put to
death, but Hachiro's courage aroused sympathy, even in the
hearts of his foes. It seemed a pity to kill so brave a man, and
so they set him free. But to prevent his using his wonderful
skill against them they cut the sinews in both his arms, and
sent him to the island of Oshima.
The simple island folk recognized in him a great man, and he led
a happy life among them. One day, while standing on the beach
thinking of his many past adventures, he was seized with a
desire for more. So, stepping into a boat, he set out on a
voyage of discovery. He came to an island which was inhabited by
people with dark red faces and shocks of bright red hair.
Landing, he went up to a large pine-tree and uprooted it with as
much ease as if it were a weed, brandishing it above his head
and calling aloud, "Come, you demons! Fight if you will! I am
Hachiro Tametomo, the archer of Japan. If you will be my
servants and look up to me as a master in all things, it is
well--otherwise, I will beat you all to little pieces!" He could
have done it, too, because his arms were as strong as ever,
notwithstanding the sinews had been cut. So the inhabitants
prostrated themselves before him, and he took possession of the
island. Later, however, he returned to Oshima.
Now the island of Oshima has always been free from smallpox, and
the reason is that Hachiro lived there. One day a little man, no
bigger than one foot five inches, came floating in on the waves,
sitting on a round straw mat.
"Who are you?" Hachiro asked.
"I am the germ of smallpox," answered the pigmy.
"And why have you come here to Oshima?"
"I come to seize hold of the inhabitants!"
"You would spread the hateful pestilence--Silence! I am
Hachiro."
At that the smallpox microbe shrank and shrank until he was the
size of a pea, and then he floated away for ever, as
mysteriously as he had come.
On hearing of this, the Minister of State decided that Hachiro
was becoming too powerful and popular a hero. When the young man
saw the soldiers approaching the island, he seized his bow and,
pulling it to the shape of a half-moon, sent an arrow that upset
the boat and pitched the soldiers into the sea. After thinking
the matter over, however, he decided that if he fought against
the Government it would bring disaster upon the islanders who
loved him, and it would be better to die at the height of his
glory. So he committed _hara-kiri_ and thus saved himself from
all dishonour and the people of Oshima from further trouble.
[Illustration: ARMOUR AND WEAPONS OF ANCIENT WARRIORS.]
* * * * *
Of a different sort altogether is the legend of the "Theft of the Golden
Scale," so charmingly rendered into English by Mr. Brownell.
* * * * *
THE THEFT OF THE GOLDEN SCALE
Daredesuka was a _ronin_ bold, and Eikibo was a beautiful
_geisha_. One day Daredesuka asked Eikibo to be his wife, a
request that _geishas_ will generally accept, for it puts them
in the highest of the four classes of society, ranking almost as
well as the nobility. But Eikibo only laughed and said, "Such
promises are like the little flies that live a day and then no
one knows what has become of them!"
Daredesuka cried, "It is not so! Give me some test, for I must
have you know I speak the truth. Shall I bring you pearls from
the deep sea, or golden scales from the dolphins on Nagoya
Castle? Only say the thing, and I will do it, for you must
believe me."
Eikibo looked at him and said merrily, "Yes, I must believe you
if you bring me a dolphin's golden scale from the ridge of the
fifth story of the tower. I know Nagoya well, for I am there
every year. Yes, I should know you spoke the truth if you
brought the scale!" And she laughed again, for to the _geisha_
the parents of a truthful man are not yet born. Then she added,
"_Sayonara!_ My call-time for the Full Moon Tea-house over the
river has arrived. I beg your honourable pardon, I must go now.
Next month I shall be at the great _matsuri_ at Nagoya, where I
am to dance. Bring me the scale, and I shall know your heart!"
Two nights later he was in Nagoya.
Now Daredesuka was a wonderful man with kites. He had made large
ones when he was with his old lord, and had once dropped a line
far over a junk that was blowing out to sea, and so saved many
lives. He decided that he would use a kite to get the scale that
Eikibo had declared would tell if he spoke true. Secretly he
went to work and made a kite so large that he was sure it would
carry the weight of his body. He found another _ronin_ to help
him in his strange plan, and on a stormy night, in wind and rain
and clouds, he went up with his kite, and secured a golden scale
from the ridge of the fifth story of the tower. But the tool he
had used in prying it off was wet and slippery, and it fell from
his hands to the ground far beneath him. The guards' attention
was attracted. At the fatal moment a rift in the clouds let the
moon shine down, and they discovered the kite. So it happened
that when Daredesuka reached the earth they caught him with the
golden scale. But because he was a _samurai_ he was allowed to
commit _hara-kiri_, and performed the act serenely before the
State officials.
Eikibo did not do the fan dance at the _matsuri_ in Nagoya, for
on the morning of the day on which she was to appear, an old
priest found her body on Daredesuka's grave.
* * * * *
At first it seemed that the opening of the country to foreigners was to
be a death-blow to the old Japanese forms of art and literature.
Translations of American and European books have become very common, and
Western ideas permeate their work. But side by side with the newer
forms, the classic writings are again coming into vogue.
Paradoxical as it may sound, much of the classical Japanese literature
is Chinese. This is especially true of the older works, but it holds
good only in less degree to-day. Chinese has always been the written
language of the students, and of the higher classes in general, while
Japanese was considered fit only for the common people, much as English
was regarded down to the time of More's "Utopia." But while written in
Chinese characters, much of this literature is distinctly national in
spirit and feeling, and belongs as much to the country as does that
written in the native tongue. Only within recent times has the common
language of the people been used for writing books and scholarly
treatises.
Previous to the introduction of the Chinese ideographs in the early
Christian centuries, the Japanese had no written language. A knowledge
of these ideographs places all Chinese literature at the service of the
Japanese scholar. There are over eighty thousand characters, and three
ways of writing as well as of pronouncing each, but one finds that most
people know only about five or six thousand.
The great classical period, corresponding perhaps to the Elizabethan
Era, covers about five hundred years, from the eighth to the twelfth
centuries. During this time history, romance, and poetry flourished. The
Japanese record of ancient happenings, dealing with early history and
mythology, dates back to 712 A. D. and is sometimes called the Bible of
Japan. The romances, many of which were written by women, described the
Court life of the tenth and eleventh centuries. Most of the verses were
written in the short _tanka_ form, but longer ones, comprising groups of
these stanzas, were common.
In later times Bakin (1767-1848) became famous for his novels. One of
these--the "Tale of Eight Dogs"--contains no less than one hundred and
six small volumes.
In spite of the fact that Kozo Ozaki was born less than fifty years ago,
he is regarded as the Father of Japanese Literature. His work may be
likened to that of making a stone palace from a prehistoric cave, for he
simplified and unified the language, which was a mixture of the
scholarly speech of the stage with the modern vulgar tongue. Ozaki was a
perfect type of the gentleman of Old Japan. He was an artist as well as
an author, and also an orator, people flocking to hear him speak. A
group of young writers was formed in his time, but he was distinctly the
leader. His stories were mostly of love. Among the seventy volumes
published before his death (at the age of thirty-seven) "The Confessions
of a Lover," "Three Wives," and "The Golden Demon" are especially well
known. Among his most noted contemporaries were Rohan Koda and Kyoka
Izumi, the latter of whom was termed the Japanese Maeterlinck.
To-day Osaki Batsume is one of the most prominent writers. He was born
in Tokyo in 1867, and is said to have taken George Meredith as his
model. One of his best known works is "Botchan," which is on the order
of "Tom Brown's School Days." Much satire, and much philosophy, are
found in his books, but he shows little sympathy with the follies of
this life. His local colour and descriptions of social life are
excellent, and he attacks the imperfections of his day with good effect.
He is considered the master writer of modern times.
Many writers and books might be mentioned, but I want to speak of Dr.
Nitobe, whose "Bushido" and "Japanese Nation" are known the world over.
His wife is a charming American woman, and he has been exchange
professor with America. I quote two of his essays that I especially
like.
* * * * *
HEART AND CONSCIENCE
In thy sweet tremulous voice whisper in my ears what thou fain
wouldst have. And the Heart confided her secret of love to
Conscience. Said he in harsh tones of rebuke, "Thou most foolish
one! Thy love is born of flesh. Thou shalt never behold the face
of thy beloved. Thou art utterly corrupt." The poor Heart wept
its bitterest; but her sobs stern Conscience heeded not; they
reached the ears of the angels only.
* * * * *
THE SOUL'S QUEST OF GOD
Oft have I asked the question, O God, who art Thou? Where art
Thou? And each time the answer comes in softest voice, Who art
thou that askest Who I am? What thou art, that I am, and what I
am art thou. And where art thou that askest where I am? Where
thou art, there am I--and where I am, there art thou.
In worshipping God we worship ourselves, and in worshipping
ourselves we worship God. The real self is within us, the
essence of the Ego is divine. We clothe it in the rags of flesh
and of fleshly desires, until the divine self is hid; and we
call that self which does not strictly belong to it.
* * * * *
Japanese poetry differs very largely from anything with which we are
familiar. It has little if any rhythm, as we understand rhythm. The
_tanka_ was for many years the only form of verse known. It has five
lines and thirty-one syllables, which are arranged 5-7-5-7-7. This is an
unusual metre to our ears, and translators are obliged to change the
verses somewhat in order to make them sound more familiar to English
readers. The following poem by the late Emperor is typical:--
THE NEW YEAR PINE
"Atarashiki
Toshi no hogigoto
Kiku niwa ni
Yorodzu yo yobo-o
Noki no matsu kaze!"
"While New Year celebration fills my mind and heart,
I seem to hear above the palace eaves apart,
Winds calling midst the pines my garden doth adorn;
The voice of countless generations yet unborn!"
BY MEIJI TENNO.
_Translated by Mrs. Douglas Adams._
Japanese classical poetry consists of poetical ideas expressed in
flowery language and packed into the regulation metre. It abounds in
word-plays and all sorts of puns, but is absolutely free from any trace
of vulgarity. In those early days philosophy, religion, and satire were
not considered fit themes for poetic treatment.
There is an even more Lilliputian form of verse than the _tanka_, called
the _hokku_, which contains only seventeen syllables, often with little
or no rhyme. An example of this form given by Lafcadio Hearn is known as
"Vagabondage," and is a good example of much in little: "Heavily falls
the rain on the hat that I stole from the scarecrow." Two others of
quite a different trend are particularly exquisite: "What I saw as a
fallen blossom returning to the branch--lo! it was a butterfly." "So
lovely in its cry--What were the cuckoo if it laughed?"
The Japanese believe that if the beauty suggested in the five lines of a
_tanka_ verse cannot be fully appreciated by the reader, there is
something hopelessly deficient in that reader. They do not believe in
"smothering the soul with many words."
Perhaps what strikes one most in connection with the classic verses is
the dates at which they were written, for many that have come down to us
were composed a thousand years ago. Indeed, Japanese poetry is older
than Japanese history, and tradition says that there were many
versifiers even in the days of the mythological Emperor, Jimmu Tenno. At
any rate, Japan had a literature of its own long before the Northmen
found America!
In the old days only nobles, Court officials and church dignitaries
wrote poetry. The lower classes were not supposed to know anything about
the art. Love and "picture" poems were popular, and it is wonderful what
perfect thumb-nail sketches were composed. It has been said that "the
predominating feature, the under-current that runs through them all, is
a touch of pathos. ... It shows out in the cherry blossoms which are
doomed to fall, the dewdrops scattered by the wind, the mournful cry of
the wild deer on the mountain, the dying crimson of the fallen maple
leaves, the weird sadness of the cuckoo singing in the moonlight, and
the loneliness of the recluse in the wilds.
"The souls of children are often pictured as playing in a celestial
garden with the same flowers and butterflies they used to play with
while on earth. It is just this subtle element of the childlike
disposition that has helped to discover the secrets of flowers and birds
and trees, has enabled them to catch their timorous fleeting shadows and
to hold them, as if by magic, in a picture, on a vase, or in a delicate
and wistful poem."
"'Do not say anything unkind, but compose a poem. Is your best-beloved
dead? Do not yield to useless grief, but try to calm your mind by making
a poem. Are you troubled because you are about to die, leaving so many
things unfinished? Be brave, and write a poem to death. Whatever
misfortune or injustice disturbs you, put aside your resentment or your
sorrow as soon as possible, and write a few lines of sober and elegant
verse for a moral exercise.'" Thus Hearn translates from an ancient
writer, and then goes on to say:
"In the olden days every form of trouble was encountered with a poem.
Bereavement, separation, disaster, called forth verses in lieu of
plaints. The lady who preferred death to loss of honour composed a poem
before piercing her throat. The _samurai_ sentenced to die by his own
hand wrote a poem before performing _hara-kiri_. Even in this less
romantic era of Meiji young people resolved upon suicide are wont to
compose some verses before quitting the world."
These three little love-poems, which have been translated into English
by William Porter, were written during the tenth century--the first one
in 961 A. D. by the Imperial Adviser, Asa-Tada.
"To fall in love with womankind
Is my unlucky fate:
If only it were otherwise,
I might appreciate
Some men, whom now I hate."
The second, by Kanemori Taira, was composed in 949 A. D.:
"Alas! the blush upon my cheek,
Conceal it as I may,
Proclaims to all that I'm in love,
Till people smile and say--
Where are thy thoughts to-day?"
The last one was written in the same year by the minister of the Kawara
district of Kyoto:
"Ah, why does love distract my thoughts,
Disordering my will!
I'm like the pattern on the cloth
Of Michinoku hill,
All in confusion still."
Japan has not been without her women poets. Lady Horikawa, who wrote
this bit of verse, lived in the twelfth century and was in attendance on
the Dowager Empress Taiken. The poem is dated 1142, and, like the
others, was translated by Mr. Porter.
"My doubt about his constancy
Is difficult to bear;
Tangled this morning are my thoughts
As is my long black hair.
I wonder--does he care?"
The Empress Jito lived in the seventh century. She was the daughter of
an Emperor and became Empress on the death of her husband, the Emperor
Tennu. During her reign _saké_ was first made. She wrote:
"The spring has gone, the summer's come,
And I can just descry
The peak of Ama-no-kagu,
Where angels of the sky
Spread their white robes to dry."
Daini-No-Sammi, who was the daughter of a poet, composed this pretty
verse:
"As fickle as the mountain gusts
That on the moor I've met,
'Twere best to think no more of thee
And let thee go. But yet
I never can forget!"
Old age seems a favourite subject. Tsure Yuki Kino was a nobleman at
Court and one of the great classical poets. He died in the middle of the
tenth century.
"The village of my youth is gone,
New faces meet my gaze;
But still the blossoms at the gate,
Whose perfume scents the ways,
Recall my childhood's days."
Jealousy is the theme of many of the verses:
"Where many a tree
Crowns Takasu Hill,
Does my wife see
My vanishing sleeve
And so take leave?"
Of the many picture poems, this is considered
one of the best:
"Out of the East,
Over the field,
The dawn is breaking breaking--
I turn to the West,
And the moon hangs low!"
Another picture poem is by the late Emperor:
"Kie nokoru
Matsu no kokage no
Shirayuki ni
Ariake no tsuki!"
"At dawn, how cold the waiting moon doth shine
On remnants of snow beneath the pine!"
BY MEIJI TENNO.
_Translated by Mrs. Douglas Adams._
That the poetry of Japan is not without its humour is shown by the
following comic song, which deals with a subject of universal interest:
"In the shadow of the mountain
What is it that shines so?
Moon is it? or star? or is it the firefly insect?
Neither is it moon,
Nor yet star....
It is the old woman's eye--it is the eye
Of my mother-in-law that shines!"
Modern poetry is read by every one, and composed by every one. Poems are
written on tablets and hung or suspended in the houses; they are
everywhere, printed on all useful and household articles. I quote a poem
called "The Beyond," which was published in a recent issue of the _Japan
Magazine_. It shows not only a change of form, but of theme as well.
"Thou standest at the brink. Behind thy back
Stretch the fair, flower-decked meadows, full of light,
And pleasant change of wooded hill and dale
With tangled scrub of thorn and bramble bush,
Which men call life. Lo! now thy travelled foot
Stands by the margin of the silent pool;
And, as thou standest, thou fearest, lest some hand
Come from behind, and push thee suddenly
Into its cold, dark depths.
"Thou needst not fear;
The hidden depths have their own fragrance too,
And he that loves the grasses of the field,
With fragrant lilies decks the still pool's face,
With weeds the dark recesses of the deep;
March boldly on, nor fear the sudden plunge,
Nor ask where ends life's meadow-land.
E'en the dark pool hath its own fragrant flowers."
The two young poets, Horoshi Yosano and his wife Akiko, are known as the
Brownings of Japan. Yosano was editing a small magazine of verse not
long ago when the poetess Akiko sent him one of her maiden efforts for
publication. A meeting followed, and in spite of poverty--for poets are
poor in Japan as elsewhere--they fell in love and were presently
married. They went to France, and were made much of by the young poets
of Paris. Yosano is something of a radical, impatient of poetic
conventions and thoroughly in harmony with the new spirit of Japan. The
power of Akiko's work is suggested in a poem of hers called "The
Priest."
"Soft is thy skin:
Thou hast never touched blood,
O teacher of ways
Higher than mortal:
How lonely thou art!"
* * * * *
The Japanese drama has not held so high a place as have the other forms
of literature, for the stage was regarded for many years as nothing more
than a rather common and even vulgar means of amusement. The classic
drama, represented by the _No_ dances, was partly religious and had more
prestige, but there have been few good dramatists. The stage is of
interest, however, because it is the only place left where one may study
the manners and customs of long ago.
[Illustration: A JAPANESE STAGE.]
To give a brief summary of this art--the Japanese drama, like the
ancient Greek, and the English also, had its origin in religion. In the
very earliest days there were crude religious dances and songs. Later,
popular tales of history and legend, mixed with poetry, were dramatized.
Minstrels often recited these to the accompaniment of the lute.
Marionette dances accompanied by songs were also popular. Since these
performances were regarded as beneath the consideration of the nobility,
the _No_ performance with a chorus came into existence for their
benefit. After the earlier form had become debased and vulgarized the
_No_ dances kept their ancient ceremonial character, and continued to be
performed before Shogun and _samurai_, and even before the Imperial
family. They developed into something very like the classic drama of
Greece. The actors were masked, the plays were held in the open air with
no scenery but with elaborate costumes, and had a religious quality
which they have retained to the present day. As the _No_ is very long,
comedy pieces were introduced, like the "interludes" of the
pre-Elizabethan stage, to offset the classical severity. The actors have
always been of a better class than the _kabuti_, or players for the
common people.
Takeda Izuma is one of the most celebrated play writers, having
dramatized the story of the Forty-Seven Ronins, as well as other
historic tales. Chikamatsu is sometimes called the Shakespeare of Japan;
his best work is a play in which the expulsion of the Dutch from Formosa
is used as a theme. He was a prolific writer of rather a sensational
order. Samba, who has taken the name of Ikku, is one of the best
dramatists of the present time, and is renowned throughout Japan.
Hitherto myths, legends--religious or secular--and folklore, as well as
passages from Japanese history, have been the material used for plays.
To-day, however, novels are dramatized as with us, and many plays are
translated. Western dramas are having a great vogue at present.
Whether the plays are original or not, the author's name frequently does
not appear at all. When Miss Scidmore, the author of "Jinrikisha Days,"
asked a great tragedian who wrote the play in which he was appearing,
the star was puzzled and said that he did not understand. A bystander
explained that it was based on newspaper accounts of various
catastrophies, made into some sort of scenario by a hack-writer, with
the stage-effects planned by the manager and the dialogue written by the
actors--each of whom composed his own lines! No wonder the tragedian was
puzzled by the question. As a rule, however, the dramatic author has
entire charge of the production--he writes the play, arranges the
scenes, and consults with the leading actor and proprietor.
CHAPTER XI
AMUSEMENTS
As the traveller's first idea on reaching land after a long voyage is to
enjoy himself, I am going to suggest several forms of amusement. Perhaps
I had better begin by trying to answer what is sure to be his first
question--"Where is the best tea-house with the prettiest _geisha_
girls?"
We found that the most celebrated _geishas_ were in Kyoto, where the
dancing is classic, a model for the rest of the country. Here were also
the best-trained _maikos_, or little dancers. The Ichiriki, or
One-Power, Tea-house, which we visited, is one of the most famous in the
country, for here in the long-ago Oishi, leader of the Forty-Seven
Ronins, resorted in order to mislead the emissaries sent out to watch
him by pretending dissipation and cowardliness. There is a shrine in the
tea-house to the revered hero.
The place is very typical, with its clean-matted rooms and its tiny
garden with miniature features of rock and water, its lanterns and
stepping-stones, its gnarled trees and clumped bamboo. At the entrance
to this tea-house we removed our shoes and passed over the soft mats
into the simple, pretty rooms, open to the air and overlooking the
lovely garden.
It took some time for the little entertainers to gather, for they are
not used to haste. In the meantime we sat on mats while tea and _saké_
were served by the _naisan_, or maids, who shave off their eyebrows in
order to make themselves plainer and so set off the beauty of the
dancers. They came slipping in and falling upon their knees before us,
bowing low and presenting the tiny cups for drinking--all a matter of
much ceremony and etiquette when politely done.
[Illustration: GEISHA GIRLS AT THE ICHIRIKI TEA-HOUSE, KYOTO.
(In the corner is inserted a geisha girl's visiting-card, _actual
size_.)]
Finally some wee _maikos_ came shuffling in with their quaint dress and
hair make-up, their whitened faces and painted lips, and knelt among us
in picturesque attitudes. These _maikos_ are girls of from ten to
thirteen years of age who are learning to be _geishas_. Following them
came the _geishas_ themselves--the older dancers--and then the musicians
began to tune and twang their instruments, and to chant the monotonous
songs that tell the stories of the dancing.
Our eyes grew big with wonder and delight as the figures were taken up
in turn, one after another--movements grotesque, but oh, so dainty and
quaint! Such posturing in adorably awkward attitudes! Such sliding with
tiny feet turned inward, heads and hands at all angles, eyes askew! To
one to whom their dancing has become familiar, it is all so fascinating
and fanciful, so full of delight and grace and meaning!
Tomiji and Kanoko, both _maikos_--dear tiny figures in gay garments and
huge _obis_--danced the Story of the Stone Bridge. One of them was a
peony, and the other was a lion! Then a _geisha_, Harikiku, or the
Spring Chrysanthemum, danced the Story of the Spring Rain, which has a
theme like that of Romeo and Juliet, as old as the hills--only now one
of the lovers was a nightingale while the other was a plum.
So they postured and made picture after picture, and when it was over,
came and sat among us to help pass the tea and _saké_ and cake and
fruits that had been so daintily prepared. After that there was more
dancing, and we took our leave amid much laughter and many _sayonaras_
and wishes for a speedy return from our cheery little entertainers.
The _geishas_ of Kyoto dress in more subdued colors than they do
elsewhere. An American woman would be impressed by the cost of some of
the kimonos, for no expense is spared in making them as beautiful as
possible. The designs are carefully thought out, and an artist is
selected to execute them. After the work is completed the stencils are
usually destroyed, so that the pattern may never be duplicated.
These girls are the professional entertainers of Japan. They can be
called to private houses, as well as to tea-houses, to help pass the
time with their dancing and singing, and are cultivated in all the arts
and graces that may add to their ability to please. Thus a _geisha_ not
only sings and dances attractively, but she is a trained
conversationalist as well. She is not necessarily immoral, as Westerners
often imagine. It is not uncommon even to-day for a girl to die by her
own hand because she loves a man who, for some reason, cannot marry her.
Many Japanese believe, however, that _geishas_ are dangerous, designing
and hard-hearted creatures, related to fox-women--a kind of goblin-ghost
believed in by the ignorant.
The _geisha's_ songs are usually of love, the universal theme, and are
sung to the notes of the _samisen_. They correspond to our classic love
songs, but are much more popular among the lower classes than any music
is with us, unless it be rag-time! The sentiment and phrasing are often
fairy-like in their delicacy and charm, but, of course, much of this is
lost in translation. The following is one of the chief favourites--it
depicts "a lover, when the landscape is white with snow, going to the
window to look out before he takes his departure." His lady-love seeks
to delay his going, and this is the song:
"In vain thy cloak do I hide, Love,
And in vain to thy sleeve do I cling;
Wilt thou no longer abide, Love,
Nor give me for Winter, fond Spring?
I push back the window so slightly,
And point to the snow-burdened land:
O Love, wilt thou leave me thus lightly,
And choose the cold snow for my hand?"
The little quip at the end which turns this one from a love song to a
tribute to the moon has doubtless teased many an ardent wooer:
"In the wide, wide world
Of woes and tears,
Let us find a narrow spot
To live together,
You and I,
Until the world
Is quite forgot,
O my sweet--
Moon that shines
In my little window!"
Perhaps the best known tea-house in Tokyo is the Maple-Leaf Club. We
dined there one evening when there was a fine full moon, and the lovely,
mysterious little garden was like a dream in the glorious night. The
meal was served on the lacquer service by dainty _geishas_ as we sat on
the soft mats, while delightful dances were performed before us. Our
favourite was the spider dance, in spite of its name, but we enjoyed
them all, and even the music of the _samisen_ and _koto_, which many
foreigners do not care for. This house is famous for its excellent
dancing and its pretty girls.
One feature of the meal which is characteristic of a Japanese dinner we
could have easily dispensed with--that was the live fish, which was
served to us still breathing, with a knife in its side, to show that it
was perfectly fresh.
Theatre-going in Japan is a source of endless enjoyment. There is a big
and quite beautiful opera house in Tokyo where the national plays, both
old and new, as well as European opera with Japanese words, are given.
Here the combination of East and West is very interesting. The audience,
although for the most part wearing Japanese clothes, sits in seats
instead of on mats. It is said that when the first European opera
company came to Tokyo and the leading lady took her high notes, the
audience was so convulsed with laughter that the manager had to pull
down the curtain.
The English plays and the light operas given by the Japanese strike one
as amusing. It always seems strange to see Orientals in European dress,
and one never gets used to their ballet on account of their queerly
shaped legs, which have been made crooked by ages of sitting upon them.
A sample program of a performance given at the Imperial Theatre in
Tokyo, "Daily from 5th January, 1913," at 4.30 P.M., names five plays:
1. "The Soga Vendetta," a musical drama in one act, laid in the twelfth
century; 2. "Muneto," an historical drama in four scenes, representing
Kyoto in the eleventh century; 3. "Maria de Cronville," a musical
pantomime in four scenes, Paris in the reign of Louis XIV; 4. "The Woman
Hater," a modern farce in two acts, the settings representing the garden
of a hotel in Kamakura and a room in a "hospital for mental diseases;"
and 5. "The Merry Ferry," a musical drama in one scene, representing a
ferry landing in Yedo in the eighteenth century. It would be an exacting
taste which did not find something to satisfy it in a generous bill like
this!
Most of the theatres are still quite Japanese. They are built of wood
and so flimsily as to be full of draughts. The stage extends across one
side of the square auditorium, whose sloping floor is divided into boxes
two yards wide by low railings, which can be used as bridges by patrons
arriving late or departing early. There is one gallery with boxes in
front and room behind where the lower classes may stand. The actors
enter the stage by means of two long raised platforms called
"flower-paths," which extend across the auditorium--they receive their
name from the custom of strewing the way of a popular actor with
blossoms when he appears. These paths have been given up in the Imperial
Theatre, as have also in some cases the little "supers," dressed in
black in order that they may be considered invisible, who were of great
service in perfecting the details of a stage-picture. But the old
methods are still used in most of the theatres.
When an actor wishes to disappear from the audience he may leave the
stage by the flower-paths, he may vanish into the wings, or--more simply
still--he may hold up a small curtain in front of him and so accomplish
the desired effect.
The revolving stage is used oftener in Japan than it is in Europe, to
say nothing of America, where it is practically unknown. It allows quick
changes of scene, for one setting may be arranged out of sight in the
rear of the stage while another is in use before the audience. Instead
of having the curtains lowered between the acts, the audience is often
allowed to see the stage turn, which is interesting.
The plays usually begin at half-past four in the afternoon and last
until eleven in the evening. A play may run for several days, or there
may be three or four at one performance. During the intermissions the
audience goes out and gets dinner at one of the score of restaurants in
the building.
Although stage people are looked up to a little more than formerly, they
are still regarded as a rather low class. Madame Sada Yakko is perhaps
the best known actress of the new school, for she met with great
success, not only on the Parisian stage in 1900, but later in America as
well. Danjuro, Kikugoro, and Sadanji, the greatest actors of the
Japanese stage, are all dead. To-day the best are Sojuro and Sawamura,
who take women's parts, and Koshiro Matsumoto, who takes men's.
On a previous visit we spent a day at the Theatre Nakamuraza, which was
then the finest in Tokyo. Danjuro, who was playing there, "supported by
a strong company, including the great comedian Tsuruzo," was the
favourite actor of the time and delighted a large audience. I do not
feel competent to judge his acting, as I saw him only once, but critics
say that he was much like Henry Irving, and one of the world's greatest
artists of the old school. There is a marked difference between good
Japanese acting and the inferior article, the former is so much more
natural, with less that is grotesque and ranting.
[Illustration: AN ACTOR OF THE PRESENT DAY.]
The founder of the Japanese drama is supposed to have been a woman--O
Kuni, a priestess of the temple at Kitzuki. She was as beautiful as she
was pure, and was skilled in the dances which are supposed to delight
the gods. One day, however, she fell in love with a "wave-man"--a
_ronin_--and fled with him to Tokyo. Here her dancing and her beauty
soon made her famous. Not satisfied with this, she and her lover--who
was also her devoted pupil--became actors, and were the first to put
secular plays on the stage. While still quite young the "wave-man" died,
and O Kuni left the stage for ever. She cut off her wonderful long hair
and became a Buddhist nun, spending the rest of her life writing poems.
From her day until recent times women have not been allowed to appear on
the stage, men taking all the parts as in the plays of ancient Greece
and old England. To-day, however, women often take part with the men, as
with us.
The old plays are very interesting and well done, the costumes being
superb and the scenery excellent. The characters consist for the most
part of _samurai_ and _daimyos_, two or three of whom are either killed
or commit _hara-kiri_ during the performance. While their postures mean
little to our eyes, to a Japanese every movement has its significance.
When the actors pose and stamp around and finally kill themselves, the
audience weeps in sympathy. The speeches are in the scholarly language,
which only the better educated (very few of whom are women) can
understand. This fact accounts for the large amount of sensational
action which is considered necessary to hold the attention of the common
people. One result of the many historical dramas given in the theatres
is that the lower classes know and revere their national heroes.
In the early days of the theatre masks were much used. They were made to
express sadness, hatred or amusement, and the actors chose them to fit
the part they had to play. Often they portrayed the faces of well-known
persons, and these were especially popular. If the actors wished to
represent divinities or devils they had masks coloured black, red,
green, or gold, often with real hair on them. The custom of masking on
the stage was given up at the end of the seventeenth century.
One day we went to a native theatre and sat cross-legged in a box for
over three hours, watching with real interest the exciting legendary
romance of the famous Forty-Seven Ronins, whose story is told in another
chapter. This was a very long play which had already taken twenty days,
from eight in the morning till five in the afternoon, and would require
three days more to finish it. The dialogue was, of course, quite
unintelligible, but the play was nevertheless very interesting, for
there was always a lot of action. The hero was truly superb--by a glance
of his eye or a threatened blow he could knock down a whole stage-full
of men! There was a very realistic suicide, with spurting blood and many
gurglings. The acting was a trifle exaggerated--at times even grotesque
and absurd--but I could follow the thread of events quite easily.
Some clever tumbling and acrobatic feats were introduced after the play,
and a really funny funny-man, but to me the most amusing thing was to
see an assistant come out on the stage after some especially violent
scene and proceed to mop the perspiration from the actors' faces,
walking coolly off again when his errand of mercy was accomplished.
The costumes and stage-effects were rather showy. There were no
drop-scenes or flies. The people sat on the floor in their little
stalls, and drank their tea or _saké_ and nibbled their cakes, coming
and going as they wished.
The monkey theatres, where monkeys take the parts of men and women,
should not be forgotten. The apes seem to enter into their rôles with
great spirit and energy. They are dressed in complete costumes to
represent farmers, nobles, or two-sworded _samurai_, and they weep and
rant and slay each other through the length of a classic play in the
most natural manner. Their performance of comedy, tragedy, and drama
generally, is absurdly human. There are men behind the scenes who tell
the story of the action that is going on, but the monkeys themselves do
everything but speak. Now and then, however, they forget their cues and
the action stops till they are prompted. One "high officer," who came on
to the stage on a big black dog for a horse, caused much confusion by
refusing to dismount and kill his enemy, because the enemy, being a very
well-trained monkey, insisted upon falling dead anyhow. These theatres
are very small and can easily be moved about from place to place, like a
Punch and Judy show.
Once while we were in Tokyo there came to town "The Royal Australian
Circus," which gave two performances a day to crowded houses--or rather
tents. As if the idea of a circus in the heart of Japan were not a
sufficiently striking contrast, they pitched their tents, each with its
familiar ring and sawdust, almost within the shadow of an ancient
temple. For a few _yen_ you got a box with red cotton trimmings and
watched "Mr. Merry-man" get off his jokes in cockney English and
Yokohama mixed. The show itself was poor, both in quality and quantity,
and peanuts--the fundamental element of a proper circus--were wholly
lacking.
Moving-picture shows are very popular in Japan as elsewhere. Once, when
we were lunching at the hotel in Yokohama, a very pretty American woman
made up as a Japanese came into the room, attracting a great deal of
attention. We were quite unable to make out the situation, but were
afterward told that she belonged to an American moving-picture company
and had just come in from rehearsal.
Everywhere the "movie" is taking the place of the story-teller, who used
to hire a room and tell over and over the tales of love and adventure
which the people enjoy. Only the more prosperous can afford to see the
_geishas_ dance, but crowds flock to see them on the screen. They also
see their native plays acted quite as realistically as on the stage,
where the actors might as well be dumb since they do not speak the
common language.
Perhaps for the first time the kinematograph has been of use in making
history instead of simply recording it. When the Crown Prince of Korea
was taken to Japan to receive his education, rumours were circulated
among the Koreans that he was badly treated and was in reality a
prisoner. There was great danger of an uprising in his behalf, but the
Japanese Government hit upon the happy expedient of having the young man
followed through a whole day's routine by a man with a moving-picture
camera. When his subjects saw their Prince looking well and happy,
learning his lessons and playing games with his friends, their fears
were allayed and trouble was averted.
[Illustration: MR. ARNELL AND MR. ARNOLD IN A JAPANESE PLAY.]
Mr. Arnell and Mr. Arnold, of the Embassy, took lessons in Japanese
acting, and Mr. Arnell was able to make up extraordinary faces and to
kill himself, apparently in the greatest pain. Of course he dressed in
costume, and with his _tabis_ on he would make his big toe stand up in
true Japanese style, and would slash with his sword very realistically.
Mr. Arnold, in one of the plays they learned together, took the part of
a girl named Cherry Blossom; he did it very well indeed.
The English and American colonies often give theatricals: a performance
of the "Merchant of Venice" at the opera house was excellent. We enjoyed
it, and the Japanese students flocked to see it.
Sports of various kinds are occasionally indulged in. The annual fall
exhibition, at which L. was present during one of his earlier visits,
takes place late in October. The sports were held in the compound of the
University grounds, which was beautifully decorated in honour of the
heir-apparent--the present Emperor--then a good-looking little fellow
about ten years old, who sat on a green baize chair on a raised
platform, surrounded by chamberlains and officers. There were obstacle
races, and the 220 on a turf track was run in 27 seconds, the 440 in
60-1/2 seconds. A race between professors created great amusement, and a
sprint between champions of the different schools was enthusiastically
followed.
"The annual fall meeting of the Nippon Race Club," wrote L. during his
visit in 1889, "was held the last of October. This is quite a successful
club, and is the racing association at Yokohama. They have a pretty
course out behind the Bluff, pretty from an æsthetic point of view only,
however, for it is a bad track with a regular Tottenham Corner near the
finish. The meeting proved to be great fun and quite exciting. The
runners are limited to China and Hokkaido ponies--little brutes between
12.1 and 14.1 hands--and though the time is slow the finishes are
generally close and exciting. In one race, the Yokohama plate, one mile
and three-quarters, the three leaders finished within a nose of each
other. The great interest is, of course, in the betting. There is always
a tremendous amount of gambling in the Orient, and these meetings prove
exceptional opportunities for this spirit to exhibit itself.
"The second day's racing was graced by the presence of His Imperial
Majesty [the late Emperor] and his suite, and so was the great day of
the meeting, and a great day for Yokohama also. The Emperor seldom
leaves his palace, but his earthly half--for he is still considered half
divine by the people--is fond of horses and of horse-racing, and he
makes this one of the occasions on which he does exhibit himself. He was
very ceremoniously treated. After the last race he was driven around the
track in his carriage of State, surrounded by lancers, for the benefit
of the thousands who had come out to Negishi Hill to pay their respects
to their sovereign."
Near Uyeno Park in Tokyo there is a racecourse, but it is not so popular
as it was a few years ago, for the Japanese are not horsemen. The horse
of Nippon is thoroughly a beast, and stubborn, and this fact created
variety and interest when L. visited the riding-school. The French
method was used in those days--hands out in front, body bent
forward--and they retained the old custom of short stirrups and knees
elevated toward the chin.
The grounds of the school were good. There were about seventy horses,
but L. said that only a few half-breed ones were passable, for the
thoroughbred Japanese ponies were bull-necked, mule-hoofed, and had
miserable quarters. Since those days, however, horses from Australia and
Arabia have been introduced, and although they are said not to thrive
very well in Japan, they have improved the stock considerably.
A typical amusement of the country is wrestling. The professional
wrestler is a man of no mean rank, standing far above merchants,
farmers, and actors in the social scale. His family has probably been
devoted to wrestling for generations, and he has been trained from
childhood and fed on special food to make him big and strong. If he is a
famous fighter his patron, who is doubtless some great nobleman, is very
proud of him, and the people of his province look upon him as little
less than a demi-god.
Although the ladies all go to bull-fights in Spain, very few go to
wrestling-matches in Japan. Foreign women are apt to consider it a
brutal sport, somewhat on the order of our prize-fighting, because the
wrestlers are so fat and dreadful looking. But there is no
fist-fighting, and the skill is so great that I found it very
interesting. You can always tell the wrestlers when you see them,
because they wear their hair done in old-fashioned style, somewhat
resembling the queue of the matador.
The history of wrestling goes back to the first century B.C., for it is
an ancient as well as honourable profession. It began as a Court
function for the entertainment of the nobility. Political issues of
great importance are said to have been decided in the ring in the early
days. The sport took on a religious aspect during the first half of the
seventeenth century, when the priests began organizing matches in the
temples to raise money for divers "pious purposes." In time many abuses
crept in. There was much bitter feeling between contestants from
different sections of the country, and so much foul play that the
Government put a stop to all public performances. Not until 1700 A. D.
were public matches again allowed, and then only under restrictions
which made it safer for the contestants. From that day to this,
wrestling (_sumo_) has been very popular with all classes.
[Illustration: A WRESTLER.]
In Osaka we saw some fine matches where the wrestlers of the East met
those of the West. People gather from all over the country to witness
these contests, which generally take place in the middle of the summer.
There are wonderful matches in Tokyo also, which continue during the
month of February. Formerly they took place under a large circus-tent,
but now they are held in a huge arena, shaped something like a
bull-ring, only not open to the sky. The ring in the centre is very
small and raised on a platform beneath a canopy. A light is thrown on
the contestants as they come swaggering and waddling down the aisles to
meet in the centre, mount the stage, and take grotesque postures that
show to advantage the muscles of their legs and arms. When they first
come in they wear their gold-embroidered aprons, which are very costly.
Of course these are taken off when they fight. The referees sit at the
corner under a canopy, while two wrestlers try to throw each other out
of the ring.
Each bout is preceded by elaborate formalities. The wrestlers pray to
their gods, and show themselves off to the spectators. Then they squat,
rub their hands, turning them palm outward toward the people, take a cup
of water, and scatter salt as a sign of purification. This done, they
take positions on all fours, facing each other, till, at a psychological
moment, they attack. If one starts his attack before the other, however,
it doesn't count, and they swagger back to the sides and rinse their
mouths and scatter more pinches of salt. Between the bouts much betting
goes on.
Viewed in the dim light, through the smoke of the many little pipes in
the audience, the scene was stranger than anything else I have ever
witnessed. The wrestlers use such skill, and the excitement is so great
when one of them has won, that the cheering is as good as at a football
game at home. We saw one bout where fifteen thousand on-lookers became
frenzied with excitement, because a "number one" champion was thrown out
of the ring. On certain days the wrestlers appear all dressed up in
their ceremonial clothes and give a dance.
Ordinary wrestling, or _sumo_, must not be confused with the more
scientific form known as _judo_, or more commonly, _jiu-jutsu_, which
has been introduced to some extent in our own country. Here weight and
strength count for little in comparison with skill and adroitness. While
ordinary wrestlers are perfect mountains of men, some of the cleverest
exponents of _jiu-jutsu_ are quite small. Mr. Harrison, in his "Fighting
Spirit of Japan," tells an amusing tale of a contest between exponents
of the two systems, to decide which was the better. "At the very
commencement of the struggle the big man picked the _judo-ka_ up and,
holding him high above his head, asked triumphantly, 'Now, where are
you?' Apparently not a whit perturbed by this turn of events, the
_judo-ka_ answered, 'Oh, this is just where _judo_ comes in! The moment
you attempt to throw me down, I'll kick you to death!' Terrified out of
his wits by this awful threat, the fat man, still holding the _judo-ka_
above his head, rushed out into the street, shouting loudly for help."
_Jiu-jutsu_ is not practised publicly as is _sumo_, for it belongs to
the upper classes. The matches are not advertised or reported in the
papers. Its history goes back to mythological times, and it ranks with
fencing as an art. Hundreds of young men get up at three o'clock on
winter mornings and practise until seven in order that they may become
proficient in this difficult exercise.
The foreigner in Tokyo usually feels that he has not "done" the city
unless he has seen the sights of the gay quarter--the Yoshiwara--which
is very gay indeed and as naughty as it is gay. There is nothing exactly
like it outside Japan. It is impossible to see the place in a
jinrikisha, so one must thread the crowded streets as best he can on
foot. Girls in superb kimonos sit behind barred windows like dolls
displayed for sale in a shop. The condition of these girls is much
better than formerly. The Salvation Army has done a wonderful work for
them, and not long ago the Government allowed all who wished to leave
the houses.
When other entertainment fails, there is always a _matsuri_. This is a
great holiday institution among the lower and middle classes--a fair
held in the streets or in the open spaces about a temple--for, like the
drama, the _matsuri_ traces its origin to a religious rite. The most
popular of these fairs is held near the great Buddhist temple known as
Asakusa Kwannon. The long street leading to this temple is very gay with
the shops on either side filled with wonderful toys. In various booths
in and about the temple there are many entertainments in full
swing--tea-houses and theatres and "movies," fortune-tellers and
jugglers--all jumbled up together. It is a strange mixture of things
sacred and secular. Murray says that even many years ago this temple was
so popular that they had notices prohibiting smoking, and warning people
not to take their afternoon naps there.
Every _matsuri_ has its fortune-teller. I found one sitting in a little
booth--an aged, bald-headed old man with horn spectacles which did not
in the least conceal his piercing eyes. He asked my age, and muttering
continually, lifted the divining-rod to his forehead. After looking at
me through a magnifying-glass he proceeded to separate the packets of
rods and finally, by means of an interpreter, he said:
"You will be married in two years, and have three children by the time
you are thirty!"
I bowed gravely and thanked him, telling him that he was a wonderful
soothsayer--a verdict with which he seemed to agree perfectly. It may be
mentioned, however, that I am over thirty, and have been married many
years, with no children.
Great reliance is placed on fortune-telling by the Japanese of the lower
classes. I have seen a mother with a sick child shake the curiously
lacquered box of sticks which the priest of a temple has in his charge,
hoping to get help. She exchanged the numbered stick that fell out for a
slip of paper which had a prescription printed on it, and then went out
to buy the medicine with a sublime faith that it was just what her baby
needed for its recovery.
Fortune-telling is not confined to _matsuris_ or to temples. One hears
the calls of the prognosticator in the streets at night. There is also a
very elaborate system of foretelling the future, based on the colouring
and formation of the head and features, which a few men of a higher
class practise with quite wonderful results.
To these amusements, which any one may enjoy, I add two other forms of a
more serious nature which are of great interest, although the foreigner
rarely has time or opportunity to see them during a hurried visit. They
are the _No_ dance and the _cha-no-yu_, or tea-ceremony.
The Japanese nobility rarely attend the public theatres, but they do
attend--and even take part in--the _No_ dances, which are not really
dances, but high-class theatrical performances. Why a play should be
called a dance is hard to explain, unless one remembers that this is
Japan, where they begin a book at the wrong end, wipe with wet towels,
saw and plane toward themselves, shoe their horses with straw, and even
have their compass-needles pointing to the south! The Japanese world is
"topside down" to us, but I suppose ours is just as much so to them.
[Illustration: THE _NO_ DANCE.]
We were fortunate enough to see an excellent _No_ dance which was being
performed in a private house. The performance was given in honour of an
ancestor of theirs, who had died two hundred years before. It was a very
aristocratic audience--the upper class people are easily distinguished,
as they are more intelligent and stronger looking, as well as more
refined, than the middle and lower classes. The play was given in a very
dignified and ceremonious manner, and the acting was of the highest
order, but to one unacquainted with the language and the meaning of the
various postures even the best _No_ dance is apt to prove tedious. The
_No_ is further described in the chapter on literature.
An even more serious form of entertainment, and one well worth the
attention of those who have longer to stay in the country and who wish
to make a study of the customs, is the _cha-no-yu_, a ceremony which has
almost the force of a religious rite.
Viscounts Kadenokuji and Kiogoku took us to one of these tea-ceremonies
at a private club house--Hosigaoko--in Sanno. This was the most
wonderful piece of house-building I have ever seen--the polish on the
floor, the fitting of the frames, the joining, were simply perfect. Some
of the porch boards were forty-five feet long and as smooth and polished
as glass.
A very small room of four and a half mats (nine feet square) is held
sacred for the ceremony. The entrance is made through a door which is
only a couple of feet square--a custom remaining from the time when
visitors were so received lest they hold swords hidden in their robes.
The guests, who should be five in number, sit down in a row, the
Japanese sitting on their feet in ceremonial manner; foreigners,
however, are allowed to cross their legs, tailor-fashion, for one is
expected to remain without moving during the whole affair.
This _cha-no-yu_ is a relic of the old days when ceremonies were
invented to pass away the time, and is the most formal mode of
entertainment. It is taught as a fine art and accomplishment by various
schools, which differ in regard to small details of etiquette. The
master who performed it for us, Nakamura, is the most famous teacher in
Tokyo.
The rite consists in making a bowl of tea. Even the tiniest motion has
its own particular meaning, and is performed most solemnly and
religiously. As in all Japanese ceremonials, it is done very slowly,
requiring three hours for its completion. Certain implements are used
for the _cha-no-yu_ alone, and these are of the finest make. It is part
of the performance to pass them around for the guests to examine, and it
is etiquette to admire them. The tea-making is followed by a formal
dinner, in which the guests get a chance to air their knowledge of
strict social laws, even as to what to eat, and how much. The exit is
made, after it is all over, by crawling out through the hole of a door.
CHAPTER XII
BEAR-HUNTING AMONG THE AINUS
On the northern island of Hokkaido (or Yezo) is to be found the Ainu,[8]
and with him the grizzly bear which he hunts, kills, and yet worships.
The winter climate of Hokkaido resembles that of Canada, and Bruin
thrives there, growing to a large size--sometimes ten feet, it is said.
[8] The Ainus are quite distinct from the Japanese, both in
appearance and language, and are gradually being supplanted
by them.
[Illustration: THE HUNTING PARTY.]
Mr. Arnell of the Embassy went up there in March, reaching the
hunting-grounds six days after leaving Tokyo. His party consisted,
besides himself, of Major Wigmore, Lieutenant Keyser, and Mr. J. A.
Fenner. They had engaged, besides a guide apiece, six Ainu men and three
women to meet them at Kushiro and carry their baggage. The women were
found to be "stunning walkers" and, with others of their sex, to be not
"bad-looking except when tattooed with a green moustache." I will give
the story of the hunt in Mr. Arnell's own words.
"Choosing between drenching and freezing," he says, referring to the
heavy rains in Tokyo, "I prefer the snow-clad peaks of Hokkaido.
"We reached Kushiro, the terminus of the railroad, three days after our
departure from Tokyo. We were met by our faithful Ainu, who had consumed
gallons of distilled spirits while waiting for us, and made us lose a
day waiting for him to recover. We finally succeeded in marshalling
three sleighs, each about the size of a Japanese mat, and seating
ourselves in a squatting posture, started up the frozen river.
"The snow was about a foot deep at Kushiro, but increased in depth as we
approached the mountains, where it varied from three to five feet. It
took us three days to reach the hunting-grounds. After we left the river
the road was very uncomfortable. As long as we kept to the centre,
progress was good, but whenever the sleigh happened to go one foot too
far either side, over we went,--driver, horse, passengers, baggage!
Spills of this kind were frequent, and relieved the monotony of the
journey. We spent two nights at inns in lumber-towns on the way.
"We had telegraphed ahead to the last town, Teshikaga, and a courier was
dispatched to collect the Ainu beaters, who were waiting our arrival.
There we held a council of war with the warden of the Imperial
forests--the dwelling-place of His Majesty's ursine subjects.
"We also tried out our snowshoes, oval frames of mulberry wood, without
which locomotion was impossible. There was not time to make perfect
fits, so we had to make the best of ready-made ones, all of which were
baffled by the Major's avoirdupois.
"An interesting bird had been shot at this camp the day before our
arrival; it has no name, but is known as 'the bird which appears only
every six years,' and is distinguished by having its legs above its
tail-feathers, so that when it waddles on dry land, if it ever does
waddle, its tail forms the head of the procession. It is probably
related to the penguin, but is different from it in that its beak is
long and straight like a crane's. Strange to say, on our return to
Kushiro by river a week later Mr. Fenner shot another of the same
species, and with the waters of the Kushiro we christened the fowl _Avis
rara Fenneri_!
"On the day after our arrival we continued our journey by sleigh to the
shores of Lake Kutchare, which is in the heart of an uninhabited forest
and has a circumference of over twenty-five miles. Here we separated
into two parties--the Major and Fenner, Keyser and myself. Across the
frozen surface of the lake rose the ghost-like summit of Mount Shari.
"'Bears, bears!' whispered the Ainus, pointing to the peak with their
hairy fingers.
"After dining on salt salmon, corned beef and hard-tack, we put on our
snowshoes and set out across the lake, accompanied by the aborigines
carrying our baggage. Keyser and I, the 'lean detachment,' struck for
the higher spurs of the mountain, while the Major and Fenner, the 'fat
brigade,' fixed their gaze on the lower slopes.
"Keyser and I--hereafter designated simply as 'we'--reached the foot of
the mountain as night set in, and, to our keen disappointment, found a
dilapidated hut made of pine boughs; we had yearned to spread our
skin-lined sleeping-bags under the starry heavens. (As it turned out,
however, the roof of the hut was sufficiently starry, for the night was
spent in receiving falling lumps of melting snow.) With the remnants of
the walls we built two fires, one for the wild men, and the other for
ourselves; while I boiled the coffee and the mush, Keyser fried the
bacon and the spuds. For dessert we had raisins and chocolate.
"The rest of the evening we spent in council of war with our braves.
With our clothes on, our guns by our sides, and our Colt six-shooters in
our bags, we resigned ourselves to dreams of the morrow's chase, while
the Ainus spread themselves around us like the crust on a pumpkin pie.
The fires soon died out, and we were awakened about four in the morning
by the murmurs of frozen feet, and passed the remaining wee small hours
struggling between romantic sentiments and cold--very cold--facts. At
half-past five the hairy men relighted the fires, and at six I jumped
from my bag like a dum-dum from an automatic; I set the mush and coffee
to boiling, and was soon followed by Keyser with the spuds and bacon.
"We decided not to wash for three days, for a bath is inconvenient with
all your clothes on, and the Ainus considered it bad luck anyway. At
seven we put on our snowshoes, and armed with a can of pork and beans, a
biscuit, a flask of brandy, a kodak, a Winchester high power
self-loading rifle, and a Colt six-shooter, we set out with one guide
and one packman each.
"Our course first lay along the shore of the lake for about a mile,
after which we entered the snow-laden pine forest, where each step
through four feet of snow felt like a ton. After emerging from the
majestic pines, we started the climb, now erect and now recumbent, until
at last from the middle of the mountainside the country lay like a
conquered army at our feet.
"'Where are the bears?' we asked. The Ainus pointed to the misty summit
above us. 'Whew!' we said, and went on.
"The bears live in holes which are practically invisible, among the
spurs of the mountain, and it is no easy matter to approach their lair.
The attack is usually made under conditions that might easily give Bruin
the first fall.
"At one o'clock we sat down on the spur beneath the peak and taking out
our lunch we fletcherized the brandy, and fed the beans to the Ainus and
the dogs. With our stomachs full, we clicked a charge into the chamber,
with four reserves in the magazines, and scanned the horizon. 'A bear
hole!' whined the Ainus--but alas, of last year!
"We reached the summit; the day's work was done, but the bears were none
the worse for it, so far. Separating, we commenced the descent, Keyser
down one valley, I down another, reaching camp about six o'clock. I
forgot to say that one of the Ainus shot a hare, which provided an
entrée for our menu that evening. The other courses were identical with
those of the previous dinner, which happily relieved us from the
necessity of mimeographing fresh bills of fare.
"At nine o'clock we were tired, but not discouraged, for our
expectations had been fully realized. We aligned ourselves for the
night, regardless of race or previous condition of servitude, and were
soon oblivious of the crackling of the snow, for the thermometer
continued to drop until the Hour of the Rat. The men of the wild snored,
but it sounded like the murmuring of the pines, and only added to the
romance.
"Next morning we were up again at six, and, after eating, set out with
our previous equipment, except that we left our revolvers behind; we had
discovered that they impeded the hip movement, and in the event of a
race would leave us far behind the bear. Fearing that the animals would
be intimidated by the size of our army, we decided to separate into two
detachments, Keyser with his guide and packman and I with mine. He
climbed one valley, and I another, with three valleys between us.
"My ascent was even more difficult than that of the previous day, but I
went with a knowledge of what was before me. I ate two quarts of snow at
each halt, and the anticipation of the next meal cheered me on. We
reached a broad open slope just below the summit at one o'clock. The
wind cut like a newly honed razor, but my alcoholic luncheon afforded me
all the comfort of a winter hearth.
"The dog did not stop as usual to eat my pork and beans, but trotted up
the glassy incline for a little exercise. In about five minutes he
returned like an arrow from a bow, his tail seeking refuge between his
legs, his voice pitched in a minor key.
"'Shut up, you fool!' growled the Ainu, thinking the pup had been
frightened by a shadow.
"But the yearling only struck another key and continued his descent,
evidently expecting us to follow. We decided to see whether there was
any cause for his alarm, and followed his tracks to the side of a tree.
The dog watched us from a safe distance, growling his disapproval. Lo
and behold!--there was a circular hole in the snow, some six inches in
diameter. The edge of the hole was brownish, and no more evidence was
needed that the inmate was there and had already risen on his hind
quarters to receive us.
"It had started to snow in thick flakes. There were no rocks on which to
seek refuge, and the soft snow fastened us at each step. I stamped a
foothold at a distance of seven feet from the hole--the nearer the
safer, the Ainus said, for we could not afford to let the bear evade us.
I was directed to stand sentinel, with the stock of the thunder-stick
against my shoulder, while the savages, singing in their native dialect,
ran down the slope to fetch a tree.
"They were soon back with a trunk about eight feet long, and took up
their position above the hole. The old Ainu unfastened his girdle and
tied it to one end of the pole, which he placed in the snow over the
aperture. The guides had only one gun between them, and that a
single-loader, so the young Ainu decided to go in search of a club in
case my shot should fail to tell and we should be drawn into a fisticuff
with the enemy.
"No sooner had the hairy youth gone than his square-jawed uncle pulled
the girdle, driving the tree into the den just before Bruin's nose.
Claps of ursine thunder followed. The beast rose to his feet with a
heavy thud. Next moment the snow scattered as if raised by a snow-plow,
and a broad head with flashing eyes and bared teeth emerged, and gave me
a glance that ran down my back-bone. He had not got out beyond the
shoulders, however, before I buried a .401 calibre soft-nose bullet in
his left ear, and close on the tracks of that came a round lead ball
from the savage's blunderbuss.
"My Winchester makes a deep impression on animal tissue at a distance of
one hundred yards, deep enough to make a bear forget that he is alive,
so the impact at a range of seven feet was tremendous. When the bullet
struck the head it swung to the opposite side, as if hit by a
fifty-pound sledge-hammer. There was a pause of fifteen seconds, and the
huge form made another plunge, which was evidently the death struggle,
but giving the advantage to the doubt I pulled the trigger again; there
was no response, and I found that a bamboo leaf had choked the bolt. In
about five seconds, however, I was able to restore the gun to working
order by ejecting the cartridge in the chamber, and then popped two more
peas into the waning intellect of the brute. The Ainu's lead must have
gained admission, as he stood a foot nearer than I did, but we failed to
locate it at the autopsy. My bullet--a pancake of lead with splinters of
nickel-steel--was lodged in the right jaw, having passed through the
brain from the left ear.
"The next step was to skin and quarter the bear, but before doing so my
Ainus insisted on paying their last respects to the spirit of the
departed--a spirit which was to hover over them for all time to come,
for the moment my bullet entered the ear of the bear he had taken his
place in the pantheon of Ainu gods. The savages spread his feet and
placed his head in position, then they arranged several branches in a
row before him, and kneeling on the snow, with bowed heads, they rubbed
their hands and muttered fervent prayers.
"They prayed, 'O bear, we thank thee for having died! We humbly beseech
thee to permit us to kill another bear as we have killed thee. We pray
that this happy event may not be far off, and that when we meet thy
brother or sister, thy aunt or uncle, or other kin, whatever his or her
kinship may be, thy kin may not bite or strike us, and above all, dear
bear, that he or she may not evade our poisoned arrow or our leaden
bullet. O bear, we beseech thee to be always near, and to oversee our
welfare in this land, where since the advent of the Japanese the number
of bears is rapidly decreasing, so that we poor Ainus are day by day
being deprived of the pleasure of our forefathers. O bear, again we
thank thee for having died!'
"After the prayer meeting had closed the young Ainu crawled into the
wintry home of the deceased. But the cub which we expected to take back
to Tokyo was not to be found. However, on skinning the bear we did find
two lead bullets which told the story--the cub had been killed the
previous year, but the mother had escaped. It seems cruel to have taken
her life, but when one knows that she had killed at least ten horses
during her career, and would have continued to slaughter two per annum
for the rest of her days had she been allowed to live, she forfeits the
sympathy of the wise. The forests of Hokkaido are strewed with the
bleached bones of horses taken from the pastures by marauding bears.
Wherever we made our headquarters we were visited by owners of pastures,
who were often accompanied by the Chief of Police or the provincial
Governor, earnestly requesting us to come to their assistance.
"Having justified my act, I shall resume the story. The first part which
the Ainus dissected was the stomach, which is dried and powdered and
serves as a panacea for all ills; this was the occasion for a short
prayer and was sanctified by repeated touching of the bear's nose. After
the skin had been removed, the meat was cut into six portions and was
buried in the snow until next morning. The skin itself was rolled into a
scroll weighing about sixty pounds, and was placed on the back of the
young Ainu. The head of the bear faced outward, and the packman looked
like one of the itinerant showmen who used to ply their trade along the
Tokaido in the days of the Shogun, with the mask of a long-nosed
hobgoblin fastened to his back.
"We descended the mountain as if shod with skees and were soon crossing
the lake on our way to camp. When the _menoko_--female children, a
generic term for Ainu women--spied us at a distance of half a mile they
burst into a weird chant, clapping their hands and jumping up and down,
keeping it up until we reached the place where they stood.
"Keyser had already returned with an empty bag. The Major and Mr. Fenner
joined us that evening, having deserted their camp after vain efforts to
traverse the soft snow which covered the lower hunting-grounds, on which
they had worked; later their _menoko_ followed with their baggage. The
evening around the campfire was very merry as we ate our bear meat and
watched the Ainus perform their devotions.
[Illustration: MR. ARNELL AND AINUS.]
"The ground had been cleared to make a space for the altar. On this the
bearskin was placed with the head pointing outward. Each Ainu knelt
before the head, and as he rubbed his hands--now and again raising them
to his forehead, after lightly touching the nose of the bear--he
murmured a prayer similar to the one made on the mountain. One
grey-bearded patriarch continued his fervent invocation more than five
minutes, then, having finished, he knelt in front of me, and after a
solemn salaam exclaimed, 'Hurrah, hurrah!' With this the introductory
service came to an end.
"Meanwhile the barbarians had been boiling their bear meat and, the
services over, they started to make way with it, their eating
continually interspersed with rubbing of hands and mumbling of prayers.
"Next day Keyser and Fenner went out again in search of bear, but I
decided to rest on my oars for one day, and so did the Major, who had
become completely disgusted with the snow. We spent the day in talking
and eating,--three meals on bacon and two on bear. All the comfort and
luxury of a cozy home seemed to be concentrated between our mud floor
and snow roof. At noon four carriers, who had gone up the mountain early
in the morning, returned with their loads of meat.
"In the evening, after every one had assembled in camp and Keyser and
Fenner had reported that no tracks of bear had been seen, preparations
for the grand mass were begun. The Ainu to whom the hunting-grounds of
the mountain belonged removed the hide and meat from the skull.
Ordinarily he would have left the nose, but as I wished it for purposes
of mounting he reluctantly consented to cut it off. The skull cleaned,
it was placed on the altar.
"The ceremony then opened and continued for over an hour, every Ainu
present taking part. While the mumbling of prayers, rubbing and raising
of hands, and occasional touching of the missing nose, were going on,
the cartilaginous soles of the bear's feet had been boiling, to the
accompaniment of intermittent chanting by the women, and after being cut
into two-inch pieces were arranged on sticks in front of the skull.
After another invocation the elastic tid-bits were removed and eaten
with much loud smacking. The meat was put through a similar ordeal, and
the services were followed by a grand feast, which lasted till after
midnight and was characterized by a great deal of mirth, despite the
absence of distilled spirits, which the Chief of Police had prohibited.
To us its absence was a blessing, but to the simple barbarians a curse,
for they imbibe spirits as we drink water--in fact, it is the principal
cause of the gradual extermination of the race.
"We went to bed before the dark-skinned Mohawks, but got up with them at
sunrise. During the night sleet had begun to fall, and as we could not
tell how long it might continue, we decided to break camp and re-cross
the lake, as soon as we had seen the funeral services.
"The place chosen for the last rites was the top of a snow-covered knoll
beside the camp, where a palisade was built of bamboos and fir branches,
decorated with the ceremonial sticks with the skull of the bear in the
centre. The men--for apparently the Ainu women do not take part in
funerals--then proceeded to the place in a line, and arranging
themselves before the palisade, invoked the spirit of the king of the
forests in loud prayers, to the accompaniment of the usual rubbing and
raising of hands. We were clicking our cameras meantime, which added a
musical touch to the solemnity of the occasion, but the snow showed no
traces of our tears.
"Ordinarily the skull is left on the palisade for years and years, but I
needed it to mount the head of my trophy, so I negotiated with my guide
for its surrender. He readily consented, but when the women learned my
intention they made a terrible fuss, and with tears in their eyes begged
me to leave their god undisturbed. I was finally allowed to take the
skull, if I promised to see that it was not abused on the way to Tokyo,
and if, after my return, I would have it placed on the altar of my
parlour, paying it due reverence for all time to come. The parting
between the women and the skull was quite pathetic, and would have moved
a softhearted man to mingled emotions. I have fulfilled my promise, and
the mounted skull now adorns the dais of my drawing-room, with its nose
pointed toward all believers in the omnipotence of the bear.
"The services over, we shouldered our lighter baggage and started on our
snowshoes across the lake, followed by the packmen. The ice had begun to
melt in places, as the lake is full of hot-water springs, so we had to
select our route with care. The women and the bearskin were left behind,
as there was some sort of a memorial service still to be held, for which
our packmen returned that evening. It was to have been a primitive
bacchanalia, but as the Chief of Police had ordered the only two human
habitations within miles not to sell any _saké_ or _shoohu_ to the
worshippers, they must have passed a merry night on icewater.
"After crossing the lake we walked about five miles farther to a hot
sulphur spring, where we were given a fairly comfortable room by the
Japanese landlord. The hot springs were excellent, and we took three
baths each, one for every day we had hunted. We woke bright and early to
find the sleighs waiting to take us back to civilization, and contrary
to our expectations, the Ainus appeared at the appointed hour with the
skin. Paying them off, we bade them farewell until the scarcity of bear
meat in Tokyo should necessitate our return. As parting gifts we
distributed among them most of our remaining cans of corned beef, Boston
baked beans, sweet corn and strawberry jam. From the manner in which the
bear meat was treated by the recipients in the Capital, I fear we shall
have to find some other pretext than its scarcity for revisiting the
sylvan wilds of The Highway of the Northern Seas--Hokkaido. They said it
tasted granular, and fed it to the dogs, cats and chickens!"
CHAPTER XIII
MOTORING AND CRUISING
Parties of tourists usually land at Yokohama, rejoining their steamer a
few days later at Kobe. After a little sight-seeing in Yokohama they
generally take a train to Kamakura and stop at the island of Enoshima.
If there is time, they continue on to Miyanoshita. They take in Tokyo,
Nikko, and Kyoto, with perhaps a few hours in each, and then go on to
Kobe. In the limited time this all has to be done by train, which, in
the present condition of the roads, is a quicker and surer method of
travel than any other. _Kurumas_ (jinrikishas) can be used for side
trips, or _kagos_ (sedan-chairs) for mountain climbs. Trolley cars are a
convenience in the cities, and often take one to quite remote places in
the country as well. The rates are lower than in the West, and special
cars can be hired for a moderate amount.
[Illustration: _KAGOS_ (SEDAN-CHAIRS) FOR MOUNTAIN CLIMBS.]
For those who have longer to stay, the motor offers a delightful way of
seeing the country as well as many opportunities for getting off the
beaten track and having adventures. Because the roads are narrow and the
bridges frail, the motorcycle, rather than the automobile, is after all
the ideal method of travel, for it takes one into really out-of-the-way
places which could not be reached in a larger machine. Of course this
pastime is only for men, and for men who are willing to rough it, at
that. If a woman is at all inclined to be nervous she had better not try
motoring in Japan, even in a car, except on well-known roads.
The traveller with sufficient time at his disposal also finds various
trips to be made by steamer, such as the one through the Inland Sea,
which is described in this chapter.
Motoring is just beginning to be popular in Japan. Many of the roads are
not bad except in spots, and the scenery is usually beautiful. During
the rainy season the country roads are very disagreeable,--often almost,
if not quite, impassable. Only in a city like Tokyo or Yokohama is it
worth while for the resident to have a car the year round.
The best touring months are in the spring and autumn--in March, when the
plum blossoms are finishing and the cherry blossoms beginning, and in
April and May. In June comes the rain. The heat during July and August
is very severe, then come the typhoons, and rain again in September.
When the maple leaves are turning, later in the autumn, there is another
happy moment for the motorist. Although the winters are not really
disagreeable, there is a cold wind, and the Japanese inns are damp and
chilly.
A short machine is necessary, as well as a skilful chauffeur, for the
turns are often very sharp, especially at the bridges. These bridges, by
the way, are treacherous and need to be strengthened for motor-traffic.
They were built for the use of a 'ricksha or--at the most--for a horse
and two-wheeled wagon. Gasoline may now be procured in many places, and
road-maps are also to be had. It is important to take some one along who
can speak Japanese, and to provide food for the trip, if one does not
like the native dishes. Hot tea may be had almost anywhere.
In taking a motor trip one would naturally start at Yokohama. At first
glance this city seems thoroughly Japanese, but, on knowing it better, I
have found it to be in reality very European and not at all typical of
the country or its people. It is rather a laughing-stock among the
Japanese themselves, who call things "Yokohama" as a term of derision.
Most foreigners live on the "Bluff," which overlooks the bay. Some of
the houses in this section are fascinating, for they are surrounded by
gardens and command wonderful views. Some glimpses of real Japan may be
caught in the native quarter of the city, but coming back to Yokohama
after having been into the interior gives one the impression of having
left Japan behind.
A trip which is easy and comfortable for ladies may be made from
Yokohama to Miyanoshita. It takes several hours each way, with a day
added if one goes on over the Hakone Pass. L. and I took this trip while
the plum-trees were in bloom.
From Yokohama to Kamakura much of the way was through the paddy-fields,
which reminded me of trips on the narrow roads between the canals of
Holland. We passed some strange new pagodas on a hillside, erected
lately in honour of the Fire-God--a terrible creature carved on a rocky
cliff and painted in colours. We also passed a succession of little
places famous for the "plum-viewing," with their small tea-houses all
ready for the viewers. There were camellia-trees in bloom, too, and the
paddy-fields were beginning to show faint greens where the farmers were
pottering about in the carefully cultivated land.
[Illustration: THE BUDDHA OF KAMAKURA.]
Kamakura is sunny and warm, by the sparkling sea. Many invalids go
there, especially in winter--foreigners often rent the native houses.
The big Buddha, surrounded by plum-trees, has twice been washed by tidal
waves. The silvery branches with their white blossoms looked as if they
had been sprinkled with snow, and the delicate perfume in the air was
delicious. The Buddha is said to have stood there in the wind and rain
and sunshine for seven hundred years. It is perhaps the finest large
piece of bronze in the world; it has eyes of pure gold and a great
silver boss on its forehead that looks like a full moon, while on its
head are eight hundred curls. "These are the snails that kindly coiled
themselves on Buddha's head when by thinking too much in the hot sun he
might have been sun-struck."
We visited another shrine at Kamakura, where there is a huge trunk of
cedar carved into a Kwannon--she is the goddess of pity and humility. It
is said that once upon a time an illumination was seen over the waters,
and on going to find out what caused it some fishermen discovered the
figure of this goddess, carved in wood, which they brought ashore and
set up for all to worship.
It is told of Kwannon that "in her boundless love she divided herself
into many bodies and renounced the joy of Nirvana that she might bring
peace and happiness to others." She is often compared to the Christian
Madonna, and is considered the goddess of mercy, as well as the
protector of dumb animals, especially of horses and others that work for
man. She is variously depicted in Japanese art--sometimes with a
thousand hands, in each of which is an answer to a prayer--sometimes
with eleven faces, "smiling with eternal youth and infinite tenderness."
A remarkable piece of embroidery which was brought to the Embassy to
sell at a huge price showed Kwannon as the divine mother, pouring forth
from a crystal vial holy water, each bubble of which contained a tiny
child.
Osame told me that Kwannon was the daughter of a king of the Chow
dynasty who sentenced her to death for refusing to marry. The
executioner's sword broke without inflicting a wound, but her spirit
went to hell, which, however, she straightway turned into a paradise.
The king of the infernal regions hurried her back to earth and turned
her into a lotus flower on the island of Pooh-to.
While we were standing at her shrine, which is on the side of a
pine-clad hill looking out over the sea, there came a sad funeral
procession led by men carrying a big wicker birdcage. When I asked about
it, Osame said that birds were kept in it and were set free at funerals
to typify the release of the soul. There was the usual gold paper, and
the coloured paper lotus flowers. The unpainted carved box, or coffin,
shaped something like a palanquin, was borne on the shoulders of four
men. The widow was clad in white, which is the mourning colour.
Following the mourners came men, bringing trees and plants to set out on
the grave.
En route from Kamakura to Miyanoshita we motored over the old Tokaido
road--the great highway from Tokyo to Kyoto--with its crooked pines on
every side and its views of the bright blue sea and of enchanting Fuji,
so often represented in Japanese art.
On the way we passed the wonderful island of Enoshima. Here Benten,
goddess of the sea, has her shrine, for the island is said to have
arisen from the deep at her coming. She is one of the seven goddesses of
luck, and is likewise referred to as the divinity of love, beauty and
eloquence. It is customary for people who are in love, or for those who,
on the contrary, wish to be divorced, to go to Enoshima and pray to
Benten. She is said to have descended from the clouds and, entering a
cavern where the sea king dwelt, to have married him out of hand. He was
a dragon who devoured little children, but her good influence put an end
to his sins. She is depicted as having eight arms, and as riding upon a
dragon. Her shrines are generally found on islands.
I had always felt that Fuji was much overrated, but on this day it
certainly wove its charm about me. Mayon, in the Philippines, is as
beautiful in shape, but it never has any snow on its summit. Our own
snow-capped Mt. Rainier is truly superb, but its shape is less
symmetrical than Fuji's. Snow-capped and perfect in line, Fuji seemed to
rise out of the sea in its mist, a great, beautiful ghost-mountain.
Seeing it, I felt the Spell of Japan as never before.
[Illustration: _Fuji from Otome-Toge_]
So many things have been said about Fuji, and so many poems have been
written, that it would be impossible for me to invent anything new in
regard to it. It is called the "Supreme Altar of the Sun" and the
"Never-dying Mountain.'' It is supposed to hold the secret of perpetual
life, and miracles are said to have been performed there. It is likened
to a white lotus, and to a huge inverted fan. Sengen, the fire goddess,
and Oanamochi, "Possessor of the Great Hole," dwell there, while near
the shrine of the God of Long Breath is a spring of healing for the
sick.
Miyanoshita is one of the most famous summer resorts in Japan. It is two
thousand feet above the sea, and is surrounded by mountains as high
again. The climb up there in the motor went well; the air was fine and
clear, and the hot sulphur baths at the hotel refreshed us. This hotel
is excellent. It overlooks a beautiful valley, picturesque and green in
the foreground, and shading off into that pale blue of distance which
makes a Japanese panorama so complete. Around us rose high hills,
ravined and grotesque, with here and there the roofs of tiny tea-houses
peeping through the trees. As I looked from my window the tops of the
mountain opposite were all big and grey, like elephants' ears. The view
down the valley to the sea made me think of the wonderful Benquet Road
in the Philippines.
In a tea-house garden near the hotel were many-coloured carp dashing
about in the clear sulphur water. The long-tailed cock of antiquity is
now rarely to be found, but there was one in this same garden, and also
a minor bird which spoke quite as clearly as our parrot at home.
We went over the pass to Hakone. The road was difficult; the bridges
were often shaky, and occasional small landslides delayed our progress.
We were rewarded, however, by the sight of a charming lake some seven
miles in length, with mountains stretching down into it, and Fuji-San
beyond, hiding his lovely head in the clouds. The Emperor has a summer
palace at Hakone, built in European style.
When we came down from Miyanoshita in the motor, it was a beautiful
morning, and a beautiful ride it was, too, down through the valleys and
out on to the plain, along the Tokaido with its avenues of cryptomerias,
and across the paddy-fields.
I am told it will soon be possible to go by motor from Yokohama to
Miyanoshita by another route--over the new military road when it is
finished, across by Otome-Toge, and over the Hakone Range into the
valley this side of Fujiyama to Gotimba.
Another trip from Yokohama is to Mishima. We did not try this ourselves,
but the account of it given by a writer in the _Japan Magazine_, from
whom I quote, shows some of the difficulties to be encountered on the
road:
"It was on the stroke of ten, on the nineteenth of April, when three of
us, with a chauffeur, pulled out of the E. M. F. garage on the Yokohama
Bund in the new twenty-five h. p. Studebaker. Kozu was reached at noon,
and twenty minutes later we turned off the beaten track--from a motoring
point of view--at the terminus of the Odawara-Atami light railway.
"Here the real interest of the day's run began. The road to Atami,
though rather narrow, has a good surface for the most part, and runs
along the coast, now almost at the sea level, now winding over the
hills, from which a magnificent panoramic view of the Odawara Bay far
below is obtained. From the heights the coast with its white line of
surf can be followed by the eye beyond Enoshima on the one side, and on
the other side a succession of capes, merging in the haze, end in the
dim vista of Vries Island. A halt of some thirty minutes at a roadside
rest-house near Manazuru to have lunch and enjoy the beautiful scenery
passed all too quickly. Atami was reached at 2.30 P. M.
"So far the road presents no particular difficulties, but good care must
be taken, and a little backing is required to get around two or three
sharp turns. After a short halt to inspect the radiator and to see
whether the tires were well inflated, we started on the long climb."
The motorist had gone over the road on foot, and it had seemed quite
possible to negotiate all the curves without backing, but this did not
prove true in actual test. The curves were for the most part of the real
hairpin variety and came in such never-ending series that count of them
was soon lost. On more than half of them it was necessary to back at
least once, before getting round.
"Nevertheless," he resumes, "we were making good and steady progress
until within about a mile and a half from the top of the ridge, when the
gasoline began to get too low to reach the engine against the incline
and the cant of the car on the turns. From this spot on, the last mile
resolved itself into a trial of patience and muscle in manoeuvring the
car round each corner to a sufficiently even--or uneven--keel for the
gasoline to run to the engine until the critical point of each turn was
surmounted. The last two corners were negotiated in the dark, with the
writer sitting on the gasoline tank and the chauffeur blowing into it to
force the gasoline into the carburetor. At eight in the evening we
arrived safely at Mishima.
"Taking the above experience as a basis, it can be safely asserted that
passengers on a motor car would not run any risk at all on this road, as
there are no unprotected banks over which they could fall, as on the
Miyanoshita road. It also makes one of the most beautiful trips out of
Yokohama, for as one gradually rises above Atami the magnificent
panorama of land and sea displays itself before one's eyes in ever
widening circles. In our case we reached the Daiba Pass too late to
enjoy the splendid view of the hills on the one side, and of the ocean
with a fringe of foam along the shore down below, though the breakers
could be distinctly heard."
We often motored from Yokohama to Tokyo. The road-bed is comparatively
good, being hard and smooth, but it is very narrow, with constant
traffic, and there are so many children running across that speed is
impossible. Although the distance between the two cities is about twenty
miles, the street is like one long village with its rows of houses on
either side. It was endlessly interesting, with its procession of carts
and wagons with their picturesque loads, and its groups of little,
scurrying children in many-coloured kimonos clacking about on their
clogs. There were continuous rows of small open shop-fronts with their
wares set out in pretty array, and we had hurried glimpses of clean
matted interiors and quaint gardens and temple entrances. Every now and
then we would cross one of the queer, humped-up little bridges and look
down upon the thatch-roofed cabins and high poops of the sampans
congested in the river beneath. About an hour and a half is allowed for
the run.
Once on this road we stopped at Osame's home--a perfect plaything of a
house about two inches big, with an artistic bamboo fence and wicket, a
tiny entrance-place, and little six-mat rooms. The wife prostrated
herself repeatedly, and offered us tea and cake with many protestations
which Osame translated. Their baby was brought in, and looked wisely at
some presents which we had for him.
[Illustration: "LOOKED WISELY AT SOME PRESENTS WHICH WE HAD FOR HIM."]
There are a number of one-day excursions from Tokyo for cars, and still
more one- and two-day trips for motorcycles. The roads about Tokyo are
good, but with a car one is likely to strike mires or bad bridges or
ferryboats that are too small. These difficulties can generally be
overcome, however, and they make the trip both varied and amusing.
A short expedition from Tokyo, and one comfortable for the motorist, is
to the prehistoric caves--Hyaku Ana--near Konosu. These are some two
hundred cave-dwellings that have been uncovered on the side of a cliff.
They have long, low entrances, and vary from tiny holes to caves ten
feet square and high enough for a man to stand in. The pieces of jewelry
and pottery which have been found there are small help in reconstructing
the life of the troglodytes--"earth spiders," the Japanese call
them--who may have lived there some thousands of years ago.
Another trip from Tokyo[9] is to the Boshu Peninsula. The tourist will
have an excellent opportunity of getting a few glimpses of unfamiliar
Japan without going very far afield. The road follows the seashore most
of the way and offers a great variety of scenery--pine-clad hills, rice
fields, pretty gardens, and fishing villages with the ocean breaking on
rocky cliffs. There is little chance for speeding, as the highway is
often narrow and passes through many tunnels with sharp curves, but the
trip was made without any trouble by Mr. S.'s large fifty h. p.
Clement-Bayard.
[9] For this, and several other notes on motoring, I am indebted
to the _Japan Magazine_.
Mr. S. and friends started from Tokyo after tiffin, and spent the night
at Inage, a small village two miles from Chiba, where there was a quiet
inn. Next day, they drove along the coast southwest to Tateyama, which
is a popular bathing resort, reaching there in time for tiffin. The
views along the way, both of the hills and of Tokyo Bay, were very fine.
They went on to Katsu-ura for the night, passing Mera, which is an
important fishing village at the extreme tip of the peninsula, built on
a cliff near a lighthouse. It was here that the _Dakota_ was wrecked in
1909. Part of the way the volcano on Vries Island is to be seen.
Near Katsu-ura is the birthplace of the famous Buddhist saint, Nichiren.
He was born in 1222 A. D., and became a priest at the age of fifteen.
His doctrines being considered unsafe, he was sentenced to death, but
the executioner's sword was broken by lightning, and orders came from
the Regent to release him. Various well-known temples have been erected
in his memory.
Next day the return trip was made by way of Ichinomiya, Hamano, and
Chiba. The entire excursion can be made in two days, and with an extra
day one could also take in Narita, which has a very interesting temple
and is well worth visiting.
Mountaineering by motor is also possible in some parts of Japan. A
successful trip was made from Tokyo over the Torii Toge not long ago,
although the road left much to be desired, being narrow, tortuous, and
often washed away in places--between Azuma-Bashi and Narai it was
especially bad. This pass gets its name from the massive granite _torii_
at the top, and is over four thousand feet above the sea. The road over
the Shiojiri Toge, which is thirty-four hundred feet high, is so well
engineered that it was found possible to get to the top on middle gear.
The views along the way are said to be of the finest, and the "Kame-ya"
at Shimono-Suwa, a very comfortable hotel with natural hot baths and an
obliging landlord.
One motorist found difficulty in garaging his car, and it had to be left
under the wide eaves of the roof of the hotel. The ingenious landlord,
however, borrowed a huge sheet of thick oil-paper and covered it all up
snugly and securely from the weather, as well as from the attentions of
a crowd of boys who had gathered round.
"I found the boys troublesome everywhere," this traveller writes; "they
were not content to look, but must finger everything. On one occasion
they turned an oil-tap and lost me half a gallon of precious oil which
could not be replaced.... After this I tied up the oil-tap every night
and took the wires off the accumulators, for on another occasion I found
that a boy had switched these on." Such hints may prove useful to the
prospective motorist.
The road from Tokyo to Nikko is good, except at one point, where it
crosses a river. Next to Miyanoshita, this is the most popular
excursion, for the temples are glorious and the hotel is good. We did
not hear whether the road from Nikko to Chuzenji was passable.
The Japanese have a saying that you must call nothing beautiful until
you have seen Nikko. L. says nothing is beautiful after you have seen
Nikko. It is supreme, the climax. In 1889 he journeyed three hours to
Utsunomiya, and then five hours by _kuruma_ to Nikko, through the
wonderful avenue of cryptomerias, with the foliage meeting overhead.
This avenue is said to extend for fifty miles. When the temples at Nikko
were being raised, some three hundred years ago, many nobles presented
portions of them; but some, poorer than the rest, for their share
planted these trees as an approach to the temples.
[Illustration: THE WONDERFUL AVENUE OF CRYPTOMERIAS.]
L. was not disappointed in going there on a later visit, for the great
trees still stood solemnly above the gorgeous temples, and peace and
religious quiet were to be found there as always. On the other side of
the rushing river, however, there was a change, for hotels and European
comforts had been provided.
I am not sure whether one can motor from Tokyo to Fukushima or not, but,
in any event, it would be worth trying. We went there on a former visit,
staying at a Japanese inn, sleeping on mats in comforters. Next day we
went on, part of the way by train, part by jinrikisha, to the "eight
hundred and eight islands," the most fascinating place in the world. We
took a boat and went in and out among the islands until we came to
Matsushima, a little fishing town which is considered the first of the
Sankei--"the three finest views in Japan"--on account of its
exceptionally beautiful sea view. The islands are covered with queer,
stunted pines, among which quaint temples are to be seen. Even now in
the stillness of the night I can hear their bells, like a mysterious,
musical moan.
[Illustration: A VIEW OF MATSUSHIMA.]
The following condensed account of a trip by motorcycle from Tokyo to
Kyoto and beyond may be of use to the traveller. The distance is about
three hundred and forty miles. Three and a half gallons of petrol were
consumed, which is more than would have been used if the second and
third days' ride had not been in the teeth of a gale. The machine was a
2 3-4 h. p. twin-cylinder Douglas with free engine clutch and two-speed
gear. A lightweight of this sort has proved most suitable for Japan, for
there are dozens of occasions--lifting in and out of boats, up steps,
pushing over stony river-beds--when one is glad of its lightness. One
never wishes for more speed. Allowing time for rest, food, and casual
stops, not over a hundred miles can be made in a day with any pleasure.
On this expedition the cyclist went by way of Kozu and stayed over a day
at Shizuoka. It is fifty-five miles from there to Fukuroi, where he
lunched, and then continued on to Maisaka for the night.
"From Maisaka," he says, "one can cross over the Hamano Lagoon to Arai
by ferry, one can take the train over the bridge, or make the circuit of
the lagoon. As there was a strong gale blowing the ferry did not put
out, so this night was spent at Benten-jima, a pleasant little bathing
resort at the mouth of the lagoon."
Next morning, he left Arai at nine o'clock. About two miles out there
was a very stiff hill, which is frequently mentioned in pictures of
Tokaido travel. The ascent commenced immediately after a sharp turn out
of a village street, so that it was impossible to get a good start. The
view over the sea from the top was splendid, however, and the run down
to Toyohashi among slopes blazing with azaleas proved delightful.
At Atsuta, fifty-five miles from Toyohashi, the cyclist left the Tokaido
and passed through one of the suburbs of Nagoya. This is the third city
of Japan, Tokyo being the first and Osaka the second in size. It is
famous for its potteries and especially for its castle, which has a keep
typical of the ancient feudal times and often shown in Japanese art. The
castle is in fairly good preservation and is one of the best specimens
of architecture in the country. The central building is a massive
structure one hundred and fifty feet high, surmounted by two golden
dolphins, which may be seen from a tremendous distance glistening in the
sun. One of them was exhibited at Vienna in 1873; on its way home it was
lost with the ship, but was finally recovered at great expense.
After Nagoya, Kano was reached. Here one turns to the left, without
entering Gifu, and proceeds along the Nakasendo--the great highway that
connects Tokyo and Kyoto by way of the mountains while the Tokaido runs
nearer the coast. Maibara, on the shores of Lake Biwa, was reached that
evening at eight o'clock; from there it was a straight run to Kyoto.
Lake Biwa, the largest piece of fresh water in Japan, is about
forty-five miles long. It is surrounded on all sides by hills and is
supposed to have been produced by an earthquake early in the third
century before Christ.
[Illustration: LAKE BIWA.]
It is also possible to go from Tokyo to Kyoto by way of Atami, but it is
not a very good trip. Those who try it generally get on the train at
Kozu and get off again at Gotimba--a method much easier for a motorcycle
than for a car, of course.
There are a thousand things to do and see in Kyoto, but if one is there
in cherry blossom season one must not fail to see the glorious old
cherry tree so widely renowned. Near it is the Mound of Ears. Osame told
me that long ago, after a great battle in Korea, the returning victors
brought with them their enemies' ears and noses, instead of the heads,
to show how many Koreans they had killed. These trophies were buried in
a mound to commemorate the battle.
A trip was made from Kyoto to Ama-no-Hashidate--another of the "three
finest views"--by way of Suchi and Kawamori. For some miles the road out
of Kyoto is bad; there is a long climb before Kameoka and a steep, long,
but well-graded pass between Sonobe and Kinokiyama. The whole of this
day's journey lay through beautiful, well-wooded country with glimpses
of the Yuragawa as one rode along its left bank, then over a splendid
hilly coast road into Miyazu--a distance of about ninety miles in all.
[Illustration: AMA-NO-HASHIDATE.]
The return was made by way of Shin-Maizuru, where one turns to the right
after getting into the broad main street and soon reaches the coast
again near Takahama. From there on to Obama the scenery would be hard to
surpass with its views of the coast and of the wooded hills inland
covered with azaleas, wisteria and other brilliant flowers. The road
from Imazu skirts the western shores of Lake Biwa and is very narrow and
bumpy until within ten miles of Otsu. Indeed, the roads, after leaving
the coast, are often so narrow that there would be no pleasure in taking
a car over them.
L. and I found most of the roads around Kyoto good. A few of them
present difficulties, such as the one from Kyoto to Kamazawa, but from
this point they are again fine, though many hills and dangerous spots
are still to be met with. On a former visit we went in 'rickshas to the
foot of these hills, passing green fields of rice and reaching the
Harashiyawa River, which flows rapidly into the plain. We took a
flat-bottomed boat and were towed and poled up the swift water between
the steep, wooded banks, where it was very lovely. We had tea at a
tea-house on the bank, and watched the fishermen in boats, and looked
out over the pleasant landscape in the sunset glow of crimson and gold
before the purple shadows fell across the plains.
From Kyoto to Otsu, which is on the shore of Lake Biwa, is about an
hour's ride by rail. There one takes a small steamer up the lake to
Nagahama, where, after a tiffin of carp with rice and _soy_ at a
tea-house, one may take a train again for Nara.
One may also go from Kyoto to Nara direct by _kuruma_--a day's journey.
There are interesting temples to visit on the hillsides along the
road--popular shrines where thousands of pilgrims with jangling staves,
and holiday-makers taking tea and cakes, enjoy themselves simply in
their beautiful surroundings. We passed among them, beneath the great
gates guarded by fantastic demon gods, green and red and blue, and into
temples, gorgeous but often dilapidated and dusty, past pagodas and
through long avenues of stone lanterns. At Nara we saw the Golden
Pavilion and the Silver Pavilion, the summer places of retired princes.
There are entrancing gardens with little ponds filled with goldfish,
tiny bridges and imitation mountains, the "wash-the-moon" cascade, and
the platforms where warriors used to sit and look at the moon--those
fierce, two-sworded warriors of other days.
The old temples of Nara have stood there silently for over a thousand
years, beneath the gaze of that huge, ungainly bronze Buddha who looks
down with half-shut eyes, one hand held up in benediction, the other
resting on his knee. He sits on his open lotus flower beneath the tall,
solemn cryptomerias,--this wonderful Dai Butsu, the largest in all
Japan.
We wandered through the groves and the park where the dainty wild deer
are so friendly. On the hillside above is a temple to Kwannon, over a
thousand years old, standing out from the dark green of the pines.
Farther along is a Shinto temple, low and with galleries and many
lanterns. Here we saw priests praying--shaven-headed _bonzes_ in their
robes--at whom pilgrims were tossing coppers. Beyond is the Wakamiya,
where, for a consideration, some priestesses perform a dance called
_kagura_ while priests chant and play the flute and the tom-tom. As we
went by, we saw a veiled priestess dancing there in true Eastern style.
At the foot of the slope is a five-storied pagoda, black with age, for
it dates back to the eighth century.
[Illustration: ANCIENT TEMPLE NEAR NARA.]
Nikko and Nara! The one a place of some three hundred years, gilded and
coloured--the other ancient, and sombre, and impressive.
From Nara to Osaka you pass more old temples, where they say an eye of
Buddha is secretly guarded. Osaka is sometimes called the Venice of
Japan, on account of its many canals and bridges. The castle here must
have been by far the most magnificent in the country before it was
destroyed by fire. The moats and foundations that remain are splendid
specimens of masonry.
From Kyoto to Kobe is a ride of two and a half hours in the train. The
road skirts the hills which bound Kyoto, passes Osaka, and follows some
rivers that flow higher than the level of the country--indeed, the road
runs through tunnels under three large streams!
The terracing of the land is very marked along this route. Japanese
methods of farming and irrigation require that the land shall be level,
and so the country is all plotted off into little irregular terraces.
The ground is saturated with water, which stands to a depth of several
inches around the growing crops. Paddy-fields are really ponds of
standing water, while a farm is a marsh, the house alone rising above
the surface. Farmers, while taking in their rice or plowing their
fields, work with the water and thick black mud up to their knees.
Kobe is the foreign name applied to Hyogo, the treaty-port. It is next
to Yokohama in commercial importance. The foreigners in Kobe--English,
German and American--have a very pleasant club, and pretty bungalows on
the hills back of the town. A beautiful waterfall and the Temple of the
Moon are not far away.
Maiko, in the province of Harima, is one of the most enchanting spots in
this part of Japan. It is near the upper entrance to the Inland Sea, not
far from Kobe. Nothing can be more fairy-like and mysterious than the
spreading, twisted trees on the white sand there in the moonlight.
_Maiko_ means dancing girl, and the place gets its name from the effect
given the ancient pines when the wind blows the sand into shifting
scarfs about them.
Lake Shinji, on the northern coast, is also one of the most interesting
places in the country and one seldom seen by foreigners. Ogo-Harito is
famous for its giant rocks washed by the sea into strange and fantastic
shapes. It is the female spirit of the west coast, while Matsushima is
considered the male spirit of the east coast.
If one has time, Yahakii should be seen, for it is a very strange valley
with its enormous conventional terraces made by nature. At the bottom of
the canyon is a swift river, and temples are perched here and there on
high crags. Koro Halcho, in the province of Kii, is very beautiful,
especially in the spring when the gorge with its deep cliffs is made
lovelier still with wild flowers. A motorcyclist would find inviting
trips in Hokkaido, where the roads are not bad, though it is rather
difficult getting there. Over on the other coast, from Nazano to
Navetta, and around Kamisana, there are good roads.
Our trip through the Inland Sea, from Kobe to Nagasaki, was one of the
most delightful experiences that we had in Japan. We chartered a boat at
Kobe, after an extravagant comedy of errors. L. went on board at
midnight to examine it, and the agent did not discover until after the
business was finished that it was not the boat which he intended L. to
see at all; but the captain was too quick for him, and seized the
opportunity to make a good bargain.
It turned out very well indeed for us. The steamer was of two hundred
tons burden, one hundred and fifty feet long, with very comfortable
cabins--two small ones in European style and one large one extending
entirely across the boat, with mats in native style, where Japanese
passengers may lie side by side on their comforters. We took our own
supplies, and had a very good cook until he went off one night on a
spree.
We went aboard one evening, and sailed at daybreak next morning, being
awakened by the rattling of the chain and the churning of the propeller.
Soon we were gliding out of the harbour between the shipping, just as
the sun came up out of the Eastern Ocean, chasing the shadows down the
hillsides and bathing the shore in a glorious crimson. We turned Hyogo
Point and headed for Akashi Straits, to enter the Inland Sea, passing
palisades like those on the Hudson.
All day long we went through the archipelago of green and yellow
islands. At first the sea was glassy, then gently ruffled, and junks and
sampans with queer sails glided by. Toward evening we passed into even
narrower passages and straits, and the moon rose, all silver in the
twilight sky, while we turned many times, now to the right, now to the
left, finally coming to anchor off the twinkling lights of Onomichi. We
landed after dinner and walked through the little town, then sat out on
deck and sang in the flooding moonlight.
[Illustration: JAPANESE JUNKS.]
When we left next morning it was to pass more promontories on beautiful
islands, lovely mountains rising behind, and picturesque shores fringed
with tiny trees all green and purple in the haze. In the afternoon the
clouds and rain that crossed our path only added to and varied the
loveliness of the approach to Hiroshima.
During the day we had an unsurpassed panorama of Japanese scenery, with
grotesque, broken islands fringed with pine, and ravined mountains
dipping down into the calm blue waters, on which the quaintest and most
unreal of sampans and junks were idly floating. We felt as if we were
passing through a miniature ocean with its islands and old-world
villages constantly appearing and disappearing in the rising, shifting
mist. No wonder the Japanese believe in ghosts and in Bahu, the Eater of
Dreams!
As the sun went down we rounded the enchanted island of Miyajima--the
third of the "three finest views"--and glided into the bay before the
famous temple. When it grew darker the four hundred lanterns of bronze
and stone along the water's edge were lighted for us. The temple itself
is built on piles, and the _torii_ stands far out from the shore. We
were sculled across the still waters in a sampan. The tide was at its
highest, and the hundreds of little lights were reflected in its glassy
surface. Slowly we drifted beneath the great _torii_ to the temple
entrance. Once more the Spell of Japan stole over us.
[Illustration: THE GREAT _TORII_.]
The sunrise next morning was too beautiful for words. We appeared to be
coming out from a rosy dawn into a grey, dim future, as the sun came up
through a pearly mist and the little clouds rose in wreaths about the
tops of the strange mountains, making pictures such as the art of Japan
loves to depict. Tiny straw-sailed boats appeared and disappeared
mysteriously. It was all very silent and lovely.
Later in the day we climbed the hill behind the temple, then came down
and bathed, having tea at a delightful little tea-house, taking tiffin
ashore beneath the tiny-leafed maples near a brook; we went aboard in
the late afternoon, and, hoisting anchor, steamed away.
Next morning we saw the sun rise at Moji. We passed Shimonoseki and then
steamed out into the China Sea, keeping the picturesque shore of Kyushu
in sight all the way. We picked our course through the outlying islands
and the swirling straits of Hirado, and reached Nagasaki late at night.
Contenting ourselves with one look at its twinkling lights, we retired.
Morning showed us once more its beautiful harbour, the mountains range
on range behind it, and the city itself on either side, the houses
rising above each other on long terraces to the summits of the hills on
which Nagasaki is built.
Near us a big ship was coaling--a wonderful sight to one who beholds it
for the first time. It was surrounded by countless barges upon which
were swarming crowds of Japanese--men, women and children. Forming a
long line that reached from the barges up a ladder into the ship's hold,
they handed baskets of coal from one to the other, so that a continuous
stream poured steadily into the ship. The strangeness of the costumes,
the unusual sight of women doing a man's work--many of them with babies
strapped to their backs--added to the interest of the busy scene. Down
in the hold, where the heat must have been suffocating, they plodded on,
men and women, clad chiefly in coal-dust. All day long they worked away
with happy smiles, the babies bobbing up and down on their mothers'
backs, doubtless wondering what it was all about. The sight reminded me
of the passage in the Æneid, where the poet speaks of the ants as "tiny
toilers of giant industry," and describes them carrying crumbs in their
mouths to the common storehouse in a seemingly never-ending line.
As we steamed out of the harbour, the green hills rose steeply from the
water with houses and shrines peeping through the trees, backed by a
still higher range of hills which were finally lost in the blue distance
or broke off into crags and cliffs.
CHAPTER XIV
FLOWERS, INDOORS AND OUT
"If one should inquire of you concerning the spirit of a true
Japanese, point to the wild cherry blossoms shining in the sun."
_The poet Motoori._
The Spell of Japan owes no small part of its potency to the abundant
flowers, which weave about the land an ever-changing veil of bright
colours and exquisite textures. First appear the fragrant plums,
earliest of the "One Hundred Flowers," and the freesias, and the
wonderful display of cherry blossoms in March and April, then the
wisteria and azalea, the iris and the peony, "the flower of
prosperity"--in China it is called "the queen of flowers"--in July the
lotus, and in the autumn the chrysanthemum, "the long-lasting plant." Of
all these the cherry and the chrysanthemum are the most famous.
The plum, an emblem of chastity, is enjoyed chiefly by the intellectual.
There is only a breath of flower on the gnarled stock, a mystery of
white or pink or red, which requires close study to find delight in the
manner in which the blossoms scatter irregularly on the beautiful,
twisting branches, silvery with lichen.
This charming little poem by Sosei refers to the plum as the herald of
spring:
"Amid the branches of the silv'ry bowers
The nightingale doth sing: perchance he knows
That spring hath come, and takes the later snows
For the white petals of the plum's sweet flowers."
The cherry, being gayer and more profuse, is more popular with the
people. It is called "the king of flowers," and especially represents
abundance and vitality. It is therefore a fitting symbol of the national
population. When the cherry is in blossom, the Japanese make excursions
to view particularly beautiful trees, and as they feast and float in
their pleasure boats, they enjoy even the fluttering petals, whether
seen in the bright sunlight or the pale moonbeams. So high an official
as a Prime Minister will take a day's journey for the sight of a cherry
tree in bloom.
A Japanese of the olden time has beautifully pictured the blossoming
cherry trees: "When in spring the trees flower, it is as if fleeciest
masses of cloud faintly tinged by sunset had floated down from the
highest sky to fold themselves about the branches."
The wisteria is an especial favourite with foreigners, no doubt for the
reason that we seldom see in America drooping clusters of such
length--the length of an umbrella, as the Japanese measure. It is
believed that this flower attains great size and beauty if the roots are
nourished with the rice wine of the country, and there is at Kameido a
tree producing unusually fine blossoms, at the base of which visitors
are accustomed to empty their wine cups.
Every one is familiar with the beautiful and varied colours of the
Japanese iris, as the bulbs are shipped to all parts of the world. The
peony often measures nine inches across, and some of the tree peonies
have petals of a lovely silky sheen and texture. It is sometimes called
"the plant of twenty days," because it is said to keep fresh for that
length of time. In art, it forms a constant decoration on temple and
palace walls, and it is supposed, like the lotus, to have medicinal
properties.
The lotus is not used for festivities or rejoicing in Japan, but for
sacred ceremonies and funerals. As it is a Buddhist flower, and as
Buddhism started in India, it is sometimes called the national flower of
India. It grows wonderfully, however, on the castle moats in Tokyo.
In its season the chrysanthemum pervades the country. It blossoms in
every garden, it grows by the roadside, and it stands in every tiny
shop. Each loyal son of Dai Nippon has a flower upon which he may rest
his eye and with which he may delight his artistic and patriotic sense.
The sixteen-petalled flower is the crest of the Emperor, and no one else
is allowed to use that as a design, although the blossom is often
reproduced in decoration with fewer petals. The people go on pilgrimages
in order to gaze with semi-religious awe upon "the long-lasting plant";
the Emperor gives a chrysanthemum party; and the season of this most
decorative of flowers is made one of general rejoicing.
The chrysanthemum has been cultivated in China for more than two
thousand years, says Dr. Bryan in the _Japan Magazine_, and there is
evidence of its being cherished in Egypt a thousand years before it is
mentioned in China. Whether it came from Egypt to China, or vice versa,
it is impossible now to determine, but the Chinese like to regard it as
a product of the Far East. Confucius mentions it in 500 B.C., under the
name of _liki_. From China it was brought to Japan, where it has reached
its highest development.
What the lotus was to Egypt, the fleur-de-lys to France, and the Tudor
rose to England, the chrysanthemum is to Japan. The flower is single,
yet many. It is a unity in variety, and a variety springing from one
undivided centre. The Japanese call it "binding flower," for just as its
petals bind themselves together on the surface, so the Emperor and the
people are forever bound together in indissoluble union. It was probably
chosen as the most natural and artistic emblem of the sun, but both this
and the cherry blossom, like the Emperor and his people, are considered
children of that luminary, whose orb resplendent stands for the country
as a whole. Many a maiden of Japan is named after "the binding flower,"
and its use is very typical of Japanese art and life.
[Illustration:_A Japanese Flower Man_]
At one chrysanthemum show we saw nine hundred blossoms on a single
plant, and the flowers were arranged to form figures of warriors and
ladies of long ago, from the fairy tales of Old Japan. At Dango-zaka, a
place of professional gardens, an exhibition is held each year, for
which visitors are charged two _sen_[10] a peep. Here we saw wonderful
figures made of flowers--one of an elephant and his rider being
thirty-six feet high. In the grottoes and rockeries of the garden were
other life-like figures. It was a sort of "Madame Tussaud's" with the
characters in flowers instead of wax. On revolving stages were rocks and
mountains, horses and men in all sorts of attitudes, brilliant, curious
and interesting--all made of flowers. One scene represented Commodore
Perry's reception by the Shogun.
[10] A _sen_ is three-fourths of a cent.
The Imperial Chrysanthemum Party has been in vogue at the Japanese Court
since 1682.[11] Formerly, as the guests came before the Emperor, a vase
of lovely blossoms, to which was attached a bag of frankincense and
myrrh, was placed in front of His Majesty, and cups of _saké_ with the
petals floating in them were handed around. In the annals of China we
read the explanation of this custom:
[11] For this description, also, I am largely indebted to the
writings of Dr. Bryan.
There was once upon a time, as the story goes, a man who was warned of
an impending calamity, which could be warded off, he was told, by
attaching a bag of myrrh to his elbow and ascending a certain hill,
where he was to drink _saké_ with the petals of the chrysanthemum
floating in it. The man did as was suggested, but on returning home he
found all his domestic animals dead. When he informed his teacher that
the plan had not worked, the former replied that the calamity was to
have come upon his family, and that by acting upon the warning he had
averted it, throwing the vengeance on the animals instead.
The Emperor's Chrysanthemum Party is now conducted in a somewhat
different manner from that of the olden time. It is held in the flower
palace of the Imperial garden at Akasaka. Upon the arrival of the
Emperor and his suite at the main gate, the Japanese national anthem
begins, and the guests, who are already in their places, line the
pathway on either side, bowing as Their Majesties, the Emperor and
Empress, and the princes of the blood, file past. Then the guests fall
into line after the Imperial party and follow to the place where the
feast is prepared.
The Emperor takes his place on the dais at the head of the marquee, and
receives all the representatives of foreign countries and some of the
higher officials of the Empire. As each diplomat appears in the Mikado's
presence he bows three times, and his felicitations are translated into
Japanese by an interpreter who stands near His Majesty. The Empress is
seated on a dais slightly lower but very near, and all who approach the
Emperor bow also to the Empress. This function over, the Emperor sips a
glass of wine, which is the signal for the feast to commence. As soon as
the feasting is ended the band strikes up, and His Majesty begins to
prepare for his departure. The guests again line up, and bow in farewell
as the Imperial procession files out, then they enjoy the view of the
superb chrysanthemums.
The Imperial Cherry Blossom Party in the spring is held in the same
garden at Akasaka, and is conducted in much the same way, an elaborate
feast being laid in a great marquee. The palace in these grounds
originally belonged to Prince Kishu, but after the burning of the
Emperor's palace in 1873 this one was used as a temporary abode of the
Imperial family, and was afterward the residence of the Crown Prince,
now Emperor.
In the province of Kai there is a hill called Chrysanthemum Mount,
overhanging a river into which the petals fall. It is believed that long
life is assured by drinking the water. Among the people the custom also
survives of placing small blossoms or petals in the cup during the
wine-drinking that takes place at the festival on the ninth day of the
ninth month.
The Japanese fondness for flowers is not bestowed chiefly on the rare
and costly varieties produced by the florist's skill, but is lavished
upon the familiar blossoms of every day. Love of nature is shown in
their pilgrimages for seeing flowers, picking mushrooms, gathering
shells, and even for viewing the moon, which form their favourite
holiday excursions. One of the prettiest conceits of the Japanese
imagination is that which regards the snowflakes as the flowers of
winter, and has added snow-viewing to the list of flower-festivals.
Parties are even formed to rise at dawn and go out to see the
morning-glories open. I can testify, too, from my own experience that
they are well rewarded, for Japanese morning-glories are worth seeing.
One day when our train was delayed at a village, the station master
invited us to view the morning-glories in his tiny garden, about twenty
feet square. The colours were so beautiful that they were really a feast
for the eyes. Some were pale in tint, some brilliant, and some had
crinkled flowers and leaves.
Among the Japanese popular names for plants are some interesting ones.
The tufted grass that grows on the hillsides has the delightful name of
"lion's moustache." The barberry, which grows wild in Japan as it does
here, is popularly styled "snake-can't-climb-up," on account of its
thorns, the idea being that the snake wants the berries, but the thorns
keep him off. The little pachysandra, sometimes used here for borders in
gardens, bears the high-sounding title of "noble plant." We are
surprised at this until we discover that it is very hardy, adapts itself
to any surroundings, and blossoms under the unfavourable conditions of
early spring. Because of these qualities, rather than for anything
striking in its outward appearance, it is called noble. It is also a
symbol of good luck, perhaps in recognition of the fact that a person's
good fortune comes chiefly from his hardihood, adaptability and power to
overcome obstacles.
On one of our visits to Japan we imitated the fashion of the country and
made pilgrimages to view the lotus, which was in full bloom in July, its
pink and white blossoms almost covering the waters of the ponds. Again
in the autumn, we went on excursions to enjoy the charming colours of
the maples. Often we took jinrikishas and went to an inn by a rippling
brook, where we spent the day, eating the native food with chopsticks
from little lacquer trays, and looking out from the balcony of polished
wood upon the bright, sharp-pointed leaves dancing in the sunshine.
At the various festival seasons of the year, different flowers and
plants are used, either alone or in combination with others. For
instance, the pine and the bamboo appear among New Year decorations; the
iris is the flower of the Boys' Festival; fruits and berries are used on
the first day of the eighth month. Such occasions as the coming of age
of a young man, a promotion in rank, farewell gatherings, death
anniversaries, poetry meetings, tea ceremonials and incense burnings,
all are adorned by their appropriate flowers.
Japanese flower arrangement differs fundamentally from that of the West,
and includes much more than the mere massing of a cluster of blossoms of
beautiful colour and texture, set off by a sufficient number of leaves
of some kind. _Ike-bana_, as they call their art, considers the flower
as a mere detail and of little beauty apart from its proper place on the
stem. In addition to grace and beauty of line and an entire absence of
crowding, it requires the expression of the thought that what you have
before you is not simply cut flowers but a growing plant--which must
always have an uneven number of branches. Buds and even withered leaves
are used as well as flowers, in order to suggest the natural mode of
growth. By keeping the stems together for a few inches at the base a
strong plant is indicated, springing from the surface of the water,
which is supposed to represent the surface of the earth.
[Illustration: _IKE-BANA_ OR FLOWER ARRANGEMENT.]
As we learn the rules of _Ike-bana_, we do not wonder that it has been
the study and diversion of philosophers, generals and priests. The three
branches with which the arrangement starts are named Heaven, Man and
Earth. Heaven, the longest branch, must be one and one-half times the
height of the vase and must stand in the centre of the cluster. Man
should be one-half the length of Heaven, and Earth one-half as long as
Man. These sprays are bent into the desired curves before they are
placed in the vase. Finally, but with great care, every leaf or flower
that hides another must be ruthlessly cut off.
By the use of special flowers and the varying disposition of the sprays
the season of the year or the particular occasion for which the
arrangement is designed may be indicated. For example, unusual curves of
the branches suggest the high winds of March; white flowers are used at
a housewarming, or they signify water to put out a fire; evergreens or
chrysanthemums are used when a youth comes into his property, to express
the wish that he may long keep his possessions.
Following out the Buddhist idea of preserving life as long as possible,
the Japanese make their vases with a wide mouth, so that the water they
contain may be exposed to the air. This makes it necessary to support
the branches, and various kinds of holders have been devised for this
purpose. Both vases and holders are made of basket-work, porcelain,
bronze and bamboo, and according to their shape they are called by such
names as "Singing Mouth," "Crane Neck," and "Rampant Lion." Hanging
baskets in the form of boats, too, are popular, and receive names like
"Cloud Boat" and "Dragon-head Boat." In summer low, shallow vases are
used, which suggest coolness by the extent of water surface exposed.
According to the law of _Ike-bana_, vases should be nine-tenths filled
with water in spring and autumn, in hot weather they must be brimful, in
winter only four-fifths full, and even less in very cold weather.
Pebbles may cover the bottom of the vase in imitation of a river-bed,
both white and black ones being used. An effective arrangement is to
place three large stones on top of the small ones--quite a high rock to
represent a mountain, a second flat one, and a third between the others
in height.
The Japanese love to decorate their houses with flowers, but we might
say on entering, Where are they? Why, in the most honoured place of all!
On the raised platform of the alcove, perhaps beside the image of some
god, stands a large vase with a few carefully arranged branches of
flowers, or maybe of leaves alone. These are enough. You feel no need of
anything more.
The table decorations made for Europeans are especially interesting.
They are often placed directly on the tablecloth. One that we saw
contained a conventionalized Fuji in evergreen needles, like a flat
print, overhung with cotton wool to imitate clouds. Sometimes miniature
landscapes are formed in a box, for anything tiny delights the Japanese,
and they spend whole days arranging such things. The Inland Sea is often
represented in blue and white sand, with real earth for the shores and
the islands, while small pine branches are introduced to look like
twisted trees. Boats and fishes are put in the blue sand, and small
temples set up on the shore. As every imaginable toy is made by the
Japanese, the scene can be varied according to the taste of the
designer--I have even seen tiny European ladies imitated, and railway
trains and telegraph poles introduced.
[Illustration: "THE TABLE DECORATIONS ... ARE ESPECIALLY INTERESTING"]
In the miniature landscapes which Watanabe devised for us he used
dwarfed trees in almost every instance, and imitated water and
waterfalls with sands of different colours. For the Fuji of these
pictures he sometimes used one of those oddly shaped pebbles that abound
in Japan.
On Washington's Birthday Watanabe surpassed himself in this sort of
decoration. He represented Washington City by a diminutive Capitol and
White House and Washington Monument, set in a park-like arrangement of
gravel drives and avenues of tiny trees. Among these appeared absurd
little equestrian monuments and decorative detail of various kinds. As
he had never been in America we asked him how he had pictured it so
correctly. He answered that he found a photograph of the Capitol in a
book, and took it to a friend, who made models of the buildings for him.
He also had arranged a large cherry tree (which, because it had
artificial flowers, appeared to be in full bloom), into which the
proverbial hatchet was stuck.
The Japanese art of landscape gardening arose from their fondness for
nature, which led them to reproduce in miniature the scenery visible
from their homes. No doubt Chinese influence had its effect upon this
art, as upon many others, through the medium of the Buddhist priesthood.
Among the earliest examples of landscape gardening were the temple
groves of Nara. From the twelfth to the fourteenth centuries gardens
took on a freer form, more like that of the present time, but the
dried-up water scenery was used, showing the hollow of a lake dry, as if
in time of drought, sometimes combined with the bare mountain. In the
fifteenth century, when the tea ceremony was introduced, a special form
of garden was devoted to its use, while at the same time the art of
flower arrangement flourished. Soami, about 1480, and Enshiu, a hundred
years later, are among the best known landscape artists. "The Rocky
Ocean," "The Wide River," "The Mountain Torrent," and "The Lake Wave"
are fanciful names given to different styles of gardening.
A Japanese garden is generally enclosed by a bamboo paling, often in
some pretty design, which may surround the house as well. There should
be one high point in the garden, which dominates the whole, and it may
contain a miniature mountain, dwarf trees, stones, and a tea-house with
a gateway at the entrance. If possible, there should be water with a
bridge over it, and a cascade to bring luck.
From the varying arrangement of these features, we find hill gardens,
flat gardens, finished, intermediary or rough gardens. On our place in
Brookline, Massachusetts, we have a Japanese hill garden. The flat
effect is especially popular in Japan, with its gravel walks and stone
lanterns in different sizes and designs; but whichever style is chosen,
it must be so planned as to present its best appearance from the house.
No garden is complete without one or more lanterns, which are placed, if
possible, by the water, that their light may be reflected in the pond.
The stone basins for washing the hands vary in style, and so, too, do
the gateways; these sometimes have thatched roofs, which provide
shelter, and can be made very attractive. There are twisted dwarf trees
here and there, of course, and variously shaped stepping-stones set in
regular order along the narrow paths. Low bridges, usually without
railings, cross the tiny pond, in which there are often double-tailed
goldfish and carp which rise to the surface when you clap your hands.
Some enclosures even contain gaily coloured pheasants, ducks and storks.
[Illustration: _A Japanese Garden, Tokyo_]
Curiously shaped stones are carefully selected for the garden, each one
having a name and a meaning attached to it. Standing upright in the
centre should be the high "guardian stone." You may look for the
"worshipping stone" in the foreground or on an island; you will find the
"perfect view" on the hillside or in some prominent place; you discover
the "water-tray stone" on the pond shore, and the "shadow stone" in the
valley between two hills. Next to the "worshipping stone" is the "seat
of honour," which is flat and horizontal. The "snail" is the most
important stepping-stone.
Trees as well as stones have rank in the miniature landscape. The
principal tree is the largest, and is as a rule either a pine or an oak.
One in a secluded corner with thick foliage to afford shade is called
the "tree of solitude." The "perfection tree" should have fine branches.
Around the waterfall is planted the "cascade circuit," consisting of low
bushes; and in the background is the "setting-sun tree," which is turned
westward in order to screen the garden somewhat from the rays of the
sun, and is often a maple that will light up the place with its own glow
in the autumn.
In the literature of gardens we read of male and female cascades and
rocks--just as of male and female styles of flower arrangement--the big
one being the male, the smaller one near-by the female. The flowering
tree is also considered a male, the plant in the same pot a female.
The dwarf trees, that looked so strange when we first saw them, soon
became to us one of the delightful features of gardening in Japan.
These, as well as the gardens themselves, originated in the love of
nature, the Japanese wishing to have about them reduced copies of trees
which they admired. As the demand for these pigmies has greatly
increased in recent years and the process of dwarfing is slow, Japanese
florists have discovered a way of making them by a speedier method. When
they find old, stunted trees that have taken on unusual shapes--those
that have become gnarled and twisted by growing among rocks are
especially good for this purpose--they cut them back very closely, root
and branch, then leave them to grow for a time in the soil. After this
they take up the plants carefully without disturbing the earth
immediately about the roots, and place them in pots. Trees even one
hundred years old have been successfully treated in this way.
But this is not "real dwarfing," which was described to me by my
Japanese gardener. For this process, if you wish to keep the tree very
small, it is raised from seed sown in a pot. After the seedling has made
the growth of the first year, it is taken up, and the earth is carefully
shaken off the roots and replaced with soil adapted to the special needs
of the tree, which is allowed to grow for two or three years. Then it is
time to begin trimming it into shape, and here the same symbolic
arrangement is followed as in _Ike-bana_, based upon the three main
branches, Heaven, Man and Earth. Root-pruning must also be started after
the growing season is over, and the larger roots cut away, leaving only
the finer ones. If the branches run out too far in one direction, their
growth is stopped by cutting off the roots on that side. A tree that is
to be kept very small is not repotted until the roots have filled the
pot; one that is to make a larger growth is transferred at an earlier
date. By scraping off the top of the soil occasionally and putting on
fresh earth repotting may be postponed for eight or ten years according
to the kind of tree.
Dwarf maples from seed are ready for sale in two or three years;
seedling pines require from five to ten years to fit them for the
market, and plums four or five years. Lately, however, it has become the
custom to graft the plum, cutting back the tree until only a contorted
old stump is left, and grafting upon this. We had two such trees at the
Embassy, which were simply old stumps filled with plum blossoms, one
cluster pink and the other white, diffusing their perfume all over the
house. They were very beautiful with a plain gold screen for a
background.
All kinds of evergreens, oaks and maples, the plum and some other
flowering trees, bamboos and every sort of flowering shrub, and some
vines, such as the wisteria and the morning glory, are all used for
dwarfing. Plants having thorns are never treated in this way, neither
are they used in the decoration of shrines nor in real Japanese flower
arrangement. For this reason the large, fine roses in which we take such
delight, had never been cultivated in Japan until perhaps forty years
ago, when the first one was brought from Holland, and the method of
cultivation was also borrowed from the Dutch.
In gardens, these diminutive trees are carefully shaded from the rays of
the afternoon sun, and special pains are taken to keep them well
watered. When the temperature is above ninety degrees, they are watered
three times a day--at eleven in the morning, and at two and five in the
afternoon. If they are used as house plants, the care of them is a
dignified occupation, in which even nobles and princes may engage in
their own homes. As the use of ordinary fertilizers might be
disagreeable to these exalted personages on account of their bad odour,
a pleasant and economical way has been found of supplying the small
quantity of nourishment needed from eggs. After an egg has been broken
and the yolk and the white removed, the shell, with the small amount of
albumen that adheres to it, is taken in the hand and the broken edge
touched here and there to the soil of the pot, leaving on each spot a
tiny drop of white of egg. This process, repeated from day to day,
furnishes the little tree with all the nutriment it requires. Milk is
also sometimes fed to these plants by the Japanese, who have discovered
that it gives brighter colours to the flowers.
We visited a charming exposition of pigmy trees in Shiba. Many gentlemen
of Tokyo had sent their tiny plants and miniature vases, _hibachi_,
lacquers, books and jades to decorate the doll-house rooms. These
playthings are in many cases of great antiquity and value, and lovely in
quality and colour; as much pains and taste are required to arrange
these little expositions as to decorate the large rooms of a palace. On
account of our visit the gardener had taken particular trouble, and he
showed us all the fairy articles with loving hands and words. There were
microscopic trees an inch high and landscapes two inches long, which
were a real delight, so exquisite were they. Such trees are really works
of art, and some of them indeed as valuable as gems. About us, in pots
of beautiful form and colour, were the dwarf trees of fantastic
shape--stunted plum in fragrant bloom, white and pink, and gnarled trees
hundreds of years old with blossoming branches springing out of
seemingly dead trunks.
The Arsenal Gardens in Tokyo are said to have been formerly the most
wonderful in the country. Koraku-en, their Japanese name--literally
translated, "past pleasant recalling,"--probably means "full of pleasant
remembrances." They were designed some three hundred years ago with the
object of reproducing in miniature many of the most renowned scenes in
the Island Empire. In front of the pavilion, however, is a lake which is
copied from a noted one in China called Soi-ko. Beyond the lake rises a
wooded hill, on which stands a small, beautifully carved replica of the
famous temple Kiyomisu at Kyoto. Lower down the hill is a little stream
spanned by an accurate copy of the well-known bridge at Nikko; further
on is the shrine of Haky-i and Shiky-sei, the loyal brothers of Chinese
legend. An arched stone bridge leads to still another shrine, and from
this a path through a thicket of creepers conducts to a lake covered
with lotus and fed by a stream which forms a lovely cascade. Another
path crosses little mountains through thick foliage of bamboo and pine,
passes the artificial sea with its treasure island in the centre, and
leads over bridges, by waterfalls and around temples.
In these gardens the Japanese most perfectly realized their desire to
transfer the features of a natural landscape to their immediate
surroundings; here were magnificent trees of great size, lakes and
streams and mountains in miniature, and a wide jungle of grass and
bamboo. Through the noise and dust and dilapidation due to the
encroachments of the Arsenal workshops, one can still catch a glimpse of
the underlying plan and imagine the ancient beauties of Koraku-en.
CHAPTER XV
THE ARTIST'S JAPAN
"The great characteristic of Japanese art is its intense and
extraordinary vitality, in the sense that it is no mere exotic
cultivation of the skilful, no mere graceful luxury of the rich,
but a part of the daily lives of the people themselves."
_Mortimer Menpes._
At every turn of the head the artist in Japan discerns a picture that
delights his eye--a quaint little figure dressed in bright colours
standing by a twisted tree, a fantastic gateway through which he sees a
miniature garden, or the curving roof of a temple, half hidden among the
trees.
As architecture is always more or less affected by climate, the
Japanese, in their land of earthquakes and typhoons, have put up low
wooden structures, using cedar or fir principally, because they are
plentiful. The laws require that houses shall not exceed six _kin_, or
fathoms, in height, but allow warehouses, or _godowns_, which are more
substantially built, to be carried up much higher. If by any chance a
house has two stories, the second is very low. When I asked the reason
for such a law in China, where they have a similar one, I was told the
wind gods did not like tall buildings, but I was also assured that it
was partly to keep missionaries from building high churches. In Japan, I
think it is probably on account of the danger of earthquakes.
Owing to the rainy seasons in spring and autumn, the houses have no
cellars and are set on low piles. The summers are very warm and the
winters are fairly cold, so the _shoji_, or sliding screen, without
windows, was no doubt developed for that reason. Every house can be
thrown open in summer and closed tightly in winter. As fires are
frequent, no house is expected to last many years, and therefore the
Japanese store their valuables in fire-proof _godowns_.
The "Flower of Yedo" blossomed gloriously the other night, for hundreds
of the tiny fragile houses went up in smoke, and thousands of people
were made homeless. These Flowers of Yedo are the conflagrations that
time after time spread through wide districts of the Capital with
startling rapidity and leave nothing behind. Two days after the fire,
little houses and fences of fresh new wood were springing up, for the
people have been accustomed from time immemorial to these "Blossoms of
the Flower."
In olden times the roofs were covered with thatch, but the danger from
fires is so great that this has been replaced on many houses by tiles.
In China it is said that the fashion of curving the roofs of buildings
originated in order that the devil, when sliding down over them, might
be tossed up again; in Japan, there are also curving roofs and--in the
interior of the country--upon the outer walls there are drawings of the
god Jizo, who carries a large sword in both hands to ward off
misfortune.
In Japanese dwellings the kitchen is at one side of the front door. The
rooms seldom have more than one solid wall, the others consisting of
paper screens. In this solid wall there is always a _toko-noma_, or
alcove, raised about a foot above the floor of the room and perhaps two
feet deep. It should stand opposite the entrance, and is the most
honourable place in the house. Here, where the _kakemono_--a
perpendicular, panel-shaped picture--is hung, and a rare porcelain vase
of flowers may stand, is the seat of honour. At one side of the
_toko-noma_ is a cupboard--the place for the "honourable" book--and
above this is a drawer where the writing-box is kept, also the wooden
pillow. In some houses a square hole is found under the mat, in which a
fire is built for warmth or for cooking purposes. Where there are none
of these "fire holes," prettily decorated jars of charcoal, called
_hibachi_, are used.
The _shoji_ is often adorned with paintings or made of beautiful carved
wood. The hammered brass, the lacquered and polished wood, and the
superb ceilings add much to the beauty of the homes of the rich.
[Illustration: A CARVED PANEL.]
Wood carving, both inside and out, is such a feature of the houses as
well as the temples that it deserves mention here. At the entrances to
fine places and also on the slanting roof over the doorway of the house
itself superb carvings are often seen. So many designs and colours are
introduced, especially on temple gates, that full scope is given to the
imagination and taste of the artist. The famous cat, for instance, on
one of the gates at Nikko, is so wonderfully carved and so life-like
that it is said to frighten the rats away. Bahu, the Eater of Dreams,
and the phoenix and other imaginary animals also appear in Japanese wood
carving.
Temples are built on rising ground because the people believe that the
gods are pleased with high places. The old castles and temples are finer
architecturally than other buildings, the former, which were built upon
hills or beside great rivers, being extremely picturesque. They are
many-storied, pyramidal structures, with curving roofs and gables
projecting over each story. The buildings generally stand in three
enclosures, each surrounded by a wall or moat, and cover a large extent
of ground. The innermost, chief castle, is a large, square tower, three
or four stories high, in which lived the lord in feudal times. The
gentlemen of the household dwelt within the second enclosure, and in the
outer one the soldiers and servants had their quarters.
In the erection of castles and pagodas which have stood for many
centuries, the Japanese have shown not only their skill as architects
but also their knowledge of the principles of construction. Castles and
the sides of moats are built of huge blocks of stone, some of those at
Osaka being over thirty feet long and fifteen feet high, but the walls,
slanting from base to apex, are really pyramids, which are supported
within and bound together by enormous timbers.
Among the most interesting of these old structures are the castle at
Nagoya and that at Kumamoto, in Kyushu; the castle of Himeji is the most
perfectly preserved. Kumamoto was built in its present fashion in 1607,
and in the Saigo rebellion of 1877 it held out successfully against a
large force of rebels, showing no lack of strength in its construction.
The castle at Osaka, one hundred and twenty feet high and commanding an
extensive view over the River Temma and the surrounding country, was
once the finest fortress in the East, but has since been partially
destroyed in various sieges.
[Illustration: THE CASTLE OF HIMEJI.]
Pagodas--which are really towers with a series of curving roofs--are
very striking in appearance and most artistic. Some of them have stood
for seven hundred years or more, and many of them are kept upright by an
exceedingly ingenious device. In the centre, suspended from the top by
one end, hangs an immense log, the lower part of which is surrounded by
four other logs of the same size, firmly bolted to it. The base of this
enormous structure is about an inch from the earth at the bottom of the
pagoda, so that it forms a mighty pendulum, which in case of earthquake
sways sufficiently to keep the building stable.
When we discover that in Japan every person is an artist, we wonder at
the universal deftness and skill in handiwork, until we learn that
Japanese calligraphy is itself a fine art. Every character is an
exercise in freehand drawing, each stroke of the brush, which is filled
with India ink, being made by a quick movement of the forearm without
support for the wrist.
The methods of Japanese painters are very different from those of
Western artists. They begin work with a burnt twig, often on a piece of
prepared silk, afterward using the brush with India ink and water
colours. Each one values his own special cake of India ink very highly.
They do not draw directly from the object, but study it for hours in
every detail, and then draw from memory. After a picture is well thought
out, its execution may require only five or ten minutes.
Japanese artists have conventional types of beauty, as the Greeks had. A
woman must have a forehead narrow at the top, eyebrows far above the
eyes, eyelids scarcely visible, and a small mouth. A man should have
greatly exaggerated muscles, and arms and legs placed in almost
impossible attitudes. Their pictures abound in bold, sweeping lines--the
touch of power--and perhaps for that reason, they have great admiration
for Michel Angelo's work.
Although we may know the colour prints of the Japanese better than their
paintings, it is nevertheless true that their leading painters rank
among the great artists of the world. Pictures were painted for the
aristocracy; the colour prints, which cost but a trifle, were made for
the common people. Painting was introduced into Japan by Buddhist
priests, and some of the finest masterpieces are shut up from the world
in the temples of Buddha. Many of them, however, have been reproduced in
the beautiful series of wood cuts published by the Japanese Government.
America has two collections of the original paintings which are finer
than any in Europe--that in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, and the
Freer collection in Detroit.
Painting, as a fine art, has existed in Japan for twelve centuries. The
oldest picture recorded is said to have been done on the wall of a
temple at Nara in the early part of the seventh century. The ninth
century was the first great literary and artistic era of Japan, when
Kanaoka lived, who is called the greatest master in the whole history of
Japanese painting. His works included not only Buddhistic figures but
also animals, landscapes and portraits.
Tradition has it that the peasants in the neighbourhood of a certain
Buddhist temple were greatly troubled on account of the havoc wrought in
their gardens by the nightly visits of some large animal. Setting a
watch, they discovered the intruder to be a magnificent black horse,
which took refuge from his pursuers in the temple. They entered, but no
horse was there, except one superbly painted by Kanaoka. As they stood
beneath the picture, drops of sweat fell upon them--the horse was hot
and steaming! Then one of the peasants caught up a brush, and painted
into the picture a halter which fastened the horse to a post. This was
effective; he never again foraged in the peasants' gardens.
The earliest purely Japanese school was the Tosa, which originated in
the tenth century. A glorious artistic period covered the three
centuries from the eleventh to the fourteenth. It was in 1351 that the
great Cho Densu was born, who has been styled "the Fra Angelico of
Japan." By some critics he is ranked with Kanaoka himself. Although he
was a Buddhist priest he did not confine himself to religious subjects,
but was equally great in other lines.
The Kano School was founded in the fifteenth century. This was the
period of the masters of landscape painting, among whom Sesshiu is the
most famous. His landscapes are full of grandeur and dignity, but it is
said his figure paintings must be seen before his power can be
appreciated. He went to China for study, but to his disappointment could
find no artist who could teach him anything he did not already know.
Then he said, "Nature shall be my teacher; I will go to the woods, the
mountains and the streams, and learn of them." As he travelled through
the country in carrying out his purpose, he found Chinese artists came
to study with him. The Emperor of China engaged him to paint a series of
panels on the walls of the palace in Peking, and on one of them, as
testimony that the work was done by a Japanese painter, he depicted the
peerless Fuji.
In the seventeenth century arose the Ukioye, or Popular School, of which
Moronobu and Hokusai were the great artists. They are perhaps even
better known for their prints. The Naturalistic School, more like
European work than that of the earlier artists, was founded by Okio in
the eighteenth century. To this group belonged Ippo, a fine landscapist,
and Sosen, one of the famous animal painters of the world, particularly
known for his pictures of monkeys.
Yosai, who died in 1878, was the last great Japanese painter. He studied
in all the schools, and combined some of the best characteristics of
each. Since his death there have been clever painters but no great
artists.
Like many other things in Japan to-day, her art of painting is in the
transition stage. There are two schools, the conservatives, who cling to
the art of ancient days, and the progressives, who believe that they
must borrow fresh conceptions from the Western masters, and feel that
want of reality has been a defect in the old Japanese work. However, in
copying Western methods, they are introducing vulgar subjects, from
which Japanese painting has generally been free. At the art exhibitions
of 1913 there were ninety-three who entered oil paintings; this alone
shows the great change in their work. While the Japanese painters of
to-day cannot escape the influence of European art, it is to be hoped
that they will not lose the delicacy of treatment, the subtle
suggestiveness, and the grace and sweep of line that belonged to the old
masters.
To my mind the most interesting things for Europeans to collect in Japan
are the prints, which first came in vogue about 1690. The Japanese have,
in these, added a charm quite their own to every thought which they have
received from other nations. The conditions under which the artists
worked in olden times were most favourable, for they lived under the
protection of the great _daimyos_, were supplied with the necessities of
life, and were free from care.
Mr. Keane, of Yokohama, is an authority on old prints, of which he has
made several collections. "We lunched one day with him at his home in
the upper part of his office building on the Bund, in Yokohama. (When
foreign merchants first went to Japan they always lived over their
places of business.) The view over the sparkling harbour and away off to
the horizon, where little fleets of slanting-sailed sampans were working
their way up the Bay of Yedo with the sunlight striking their sails, was
really superb. Mr. Keane stores his prints in a safe, but for the
enjoyment of his guests he took them out on the day of the luncheon.
They were so much finer and more interesting than the common, every-day
prints of the dealers that they quite took our breath away.
Of American collections, that of Mr. William Spalding, in Boston, is
particularly good, including, as it does, some beautiful rare figures in
black and white by Matabei, the father of the Ukioye school of painting,
from which the art of colour printing is derived. Mr. Spalding has
hand-coloured prints by Moronobu, some of which are in orange-red and
old rose. In some cases the paper of the old prints takes on a beautiful
yellow autumn glow with age, which adds to their beauty. The colours
yellow, black, orange and green were introduced about 1765. For the
orange-red and old rose red-lead (_tan_) was used, hence the prints of
this kind were called _tan-ye_, and are of great value to-day. Moronobu
was a wonderful draughtsman, and his figures in black and white are
greatly prized.
Masanobu and Kiyonobu were prominent among the early artists, but the
perfection of technique in prints was reached under Kiyonaga.
Utamaro, who became the leading print designer of his day, lived in the
latter part of the eighteenth century, when the art of making these wood
cuts was at its best. Unfortunately his whole life was a career of
dissipation; his father disowned him, and he was finally put in prison
for libelling the Shogun. Soon after that, his health gave way, and he
died at the age of fifty-three. Toward the end of his life, however, he
was so popular and so overwhelmed with commissions that in his endeavour
to fulfill orders his later work degenerated. Utamaro's style was copied
by his pupils, and his signature was so often forged that it is
difficult to pick out his prints. His chief works were pictures of
_geishas_, in which the long lines of the kimonos are much admired. His
were the first colour prints to reach Europe through the Dutch.
Toyokuni was another master of the same period, whose favourite subjects
were actors in character. In this sort of print and in his technique he
was unsurpassed.
Hiroshige--two of whose pupils took his name--lived at the beginning of
the downfall of Japanese colour printing. He was a prolific worker, and
his wood cuts are delicate and seldom show strong contrasts. He is
especially noted for landscapes, and did views of the Inland Sea, of
snow scenes, and of mists and rains, in very delicate pastel colours.
Eight famous views of Lake Biwa, as well as several sets of the Tokaido,
were done by this artist. Heads by Sharaku with a silver background are
very striking, and have lately become the rage in Paris. They certainly
have strength and individuality, but they are hideous beyond words. He
was especially fond of doing actors, and the faces are full of
expression.
Hokusai, whom Whistler called "the greatest pictorial artist since
Vandyke," is placed by European critics at the head of all colour-print
designers, but in Japan is considered second-rate. For one reason, the
Japanese cannot forgive the vulgarity of some of his subjects. We might
well apply to him the name given to the school of art of which he is the
best example--Ukioye, "Mirror of the Passing World." He was born in
1760, and started as an engraver, but became a book-illustrator at an
early age. At eighteen he went into the studio of Shunsho as a pupil,
but his work was so original and so unlike his master's that he was soon
expelled. After that, he was so poor that he peddled in the streets of
Tokyo.
Later, Hokusai collaborated with the successful novelist Bakin for many
years. The famous set of prints of a hundred views of Fuji, the series
of the waterfalls of Japan, the noted bridges, the scenes in the Loochoo
Islands, as well as the views of the Tokaido, were all done in the
latter part of his life. Hokusai used strong colours, and produced fine
work. He was most unfortunate in having all his original studies
destroyed by fire, and as he was careless about money matters he died in
poverty. Just before his death--in 1849--he said, "If fate had given me
but five years more, I should have been able to become a true painter."
[Illustration: VIEW OF MOUNT FUJIYAMA.--PRINT BY HOKUSAI.]
Entirely green and entirely red prints, I was told, were rare. I never
saw but one wholly green print in Japan, but that sold for a small sum,
so perhaps I was misinformed as to its value. I was also told that the
prints entirely in red were made to amuse the lepers in olden days, so
were destroyed afterward, hence few exist, but as I find some collectors
never heard of this story, again I am in doubt. The triptychs are
particularly valuable to-day. The long strips--the pillar prints--were
made for the poorer classes, the _kakemono_ for the nobles. Both
paintings and prints are usually in one of two shapes, either the
_kakemono_, or long scroll, or the _makemono_, the horizontal picture.
The former are not framed, so they can easily be rolled and stowed away
when not wanted for decoration.
The blocks on which the prints were engraved were made of cherry wood,
both sides of which were used for economy's sake. The design on thin
Japanese paper was pasted on the block, face downward, then the wood was
cut by the engraver. Black ink was used in the first stages of the
reproduction. Proofs were then taken by hand-pressure and pasted on
other blocks, one for each colour. "'Each of these colour-blocks was
then cut in a manner to leave a flat surface of the correct form to
receive the pigment proper to it; and the finished print was the result
of a careful and extraordinarily skilful rubbing on all the blocks in
succession, beginning with the key block.'"[12]
[12] Quoted from Mr. Arthur Morrison, in J. F. Blacker's "The
A B C of Japanese Art."
Some of the great Japanese painters designed prints, others did not.
Often it is difficult to distinguish by whom a print was designed,
notwithstanding the signature, because artists sometimes gave their own
name to their favourite pupil. For this reason and many others, beware
of the print-dealer.
The highly developed artistic sense of the Japanese has found expression
in various ways, but their deftness and delicacy of touch has led them
especially to the production of small objects that delight the collector
of curios. There is the _netsuke_ in endless variety; the _inro_, or
small medicine chest; the ornamental sword-hilt; minute wood carvings;
besides bronzes and porcelain in shapes innumerable.
Collectors will show you with great pride their _netsuke_. These were
worn as ornaments attached to the cord of the tobacco pouch to prevent
it from slipping through the sash. The _inro_ and the pocketbook were
also worn in the same way. The oldest and most valuable _netsuke_ were
made of the heart-wood of the cherry, which becomes a rich brown colour
with age, and some were beautifully carved.
A very old wooden _netsuke_, which was presented to us, represents the
goddess Uzume-no-Mikoto, popularly known as Okame. She was so beautiful
that she could not be pictured. As it was impossible to reproduce her
charms, a face was chosen to represent her that in no way was a
likeness, but was sufficiently individual never to be mistaken. She is
made very fat in the cheeks, and sits in the shade of a mushroom.
_Netsuke_ are also found in ivory, bone and jade. Many are images of
gods and goddesses, and some are humourous figures. A beautiful ivory
one that was given us is in the form of a turtle, which signifies long
life, but on the under side is one of the seven gods of luck with his
shiny bald head.
During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the _inro_ was worn as an
ornament, and no man of taste would consider himself well dressed
without it. This led many of the great artists to design them. Among the
well-known _inro_ artists were Jokasai, Iizuka and Saiihara-Ichidayu,
but there are so many others who are noted in Japan that it is
impossible to give them all here. Some of the finest specimens of their
work are found to-day in the Imperial Museum in Tokyo. Many of these are
of lacquer, minutely and exquisitely carved, those in gold lacquer and
dark red being the most valuable.
There are lacquer vases and boxes, too, but the fine old lacquers are
not easy to get nowadays. Writing-boxes, some of which are in charming
designs, are also much in demand for collectors. Some of our
writing-boxes are of deeply carved old red lacquer, depicting houses and
landscapes. One is of gold and black with tinted maple leaves, exquisite
in design. Another has a background of speckled gold, on which are dwarf
cherry trees with blossoms of enamel, and still another of gold lacquer
is inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
Sculpture, like painting, was brought to Japan by Buddhist priests, and
many of the earliest statues were figures of gods and goddesses. These
were usually of bronze or wood, not so often of stone. As early as the
seventh century fine bronzes were cast at Nara, and over a hundred
altar-pieces of that period are still in existence in Japan. To a
somewhat later age belongs the colossal Buddha of Nara, the largest
statue ever cast in bronze. The Great Buddha of Kamakura, rather smaller
but of finer workmanship than that at Nara, is believed to date from the
thirteenth century.
Old bronzes are much sought after by collectors, the best dating from
the seventeenth century. Vast numbers of gods and goddesses and mythical
animals were made of small size to be set up in houses as well as
temples. Among these some of the Buddhas and Kwannons are fine. Buddha
has many attitudes--sleeping, exhorting or meditating--and all are
interesting.
Temple-lanterns, candlesticks, bells and incense-burners were also made
of bronze in forms showing great wealth of imagination. The beautiful
old bronzes are of several kinds--gold and silver, and many shades of
green and brown. The gold bronze takes on a wonderful polish, and can be
made in different colours according to the proportions of the metals
used in the alloys, varying from a deep-blue violet to a red-yellow or a
golden green. The silver bronze has a fine silver-grey tint. These
metals are also used in combination with gold lacquers and with
mother-of-pearl and silver, or are encrusted with charming relief
designs in enamels.
In the entrance hall of our Washington house is a huge green bronze
Buddha, at least ten feet high, with tight curls upon his head,
half-shut eyes, and the big ear-lobes, which signify longevity. In the
bronze halo about his head are small figures of Kwannon, and Chinese
characters decorate his garment. With one hand uplifted, he sits serene
and imperturbable, cross-legged on his lotus flower.
Not far from the Buddha is a bronze Kwannon about five feet high, a
gracefully draped figure, standing on a large petal of the lotus. About
her neck are jewels, and behind her crown is a small image of Buddha,
typifying her ever-present thought of him.
We also have a shrine that we prize greatly--a modern shrine, perhaps
five feet in height, such as is found in a Japanese gentleman's house.
The exterior is of black lacquer, but when the folding doors are open,
the interior is seen to be golden. In the centre stands a small Buddha;
the wise men--his advisers--sit cross-legged on either side. The carving
in this shrine is slightly tinted in colours, mixed with gold, and is
indescribably fine and beautiful. A _No_ dance is depicted for the
entertainment of the Buddha, above which are palaces, people and
animals, supposed to represent scenes in heaven. On either side hang two
bronze lanterns. On the table before the shrine are the ceremonial
utensils, consisting of an incense-burner, two flower vases, and two
candelabra. Below is a gong for the devotee to strike, in order to call
the Buddha's attention, and near-by is the box containing the holy
books.
In feudal days the _samurai_ went into battle clad in breast-plate and
helmet, gauntlets and coat-of-mail, all of which were adorned by the
armourer's skill, but the most beautiful decorations were lavished upon
the sword--"the soul of the _samurai_." The _shakudo_--sword-hilt--is a
curio that people collect. The inlaying and overlaying and blending of
metals that was done on arms and armour in olden times was marvellous,
and even the metal-work of to-day is remarkably clever. Besides the
sword-hilt, there was the sword-guard, a flat piece of metal, often in
exquisite designs.
Pottery from Korea and porcelain from China, of course, had some
influence in Japan. The Japanese are considered very fine potters,
perhaps the best in the world, and their old ware is highly prized. The
handsome old pottery made in Kyoto and also that of Bizen are much
valued by Japanese collectors, and the work of such famous men as
Nomura, Ninsei, and others is highly esteemed. Old Imari and Arita wares
are considered choice, as well as Satsuma, but all of them, especially
Satsuma, are much imitated to-day.
The Arita, a blue ware, is thought very pretty, but not until after
German methods were introduced did it attain perfection. The Seto
porcelain, made in the Tokugawa Period, is very well known. Kutani is
especially popular in America, and Awada ware is also in demand in the
foreign market. The cream-white made to-day in Kyoto is particularly
attractive. Neither the ancient nor the modern Japanese porcelains,
however, compare with the old Chinese, some people even going so far as
to say that the only things in the Far East worth collecting are old
Chinese porcelains.
Incense-burners are made in porcelain and bronze, and are beautifully
modelled in the form of gods and goddesses, and of birds and other
animals. Curiously enough, besides their office in worship, they were
used in playing a game, which consisted in guessing the name of the
perfume that was burning.
There are attractive lacquer and porcelain _saké_ cups to collect, and
so many charming modern things that I will not mention any more, except
the wonderful crystal balls, so clear and mysterious that they quite
hypnotize you if you look into their depths. The legend called "The
Crystal of Buddha" seems to show that these balls were originally
introduced from China. I insert the story here in order that we may
always be reminded of the delightful mythology of Japan as well as of
the treasures of the land. In a few words it is this:
A beautiful Japanese girl became the wife of the Emperor of China.
Before she left Japan, she promised to send back three treasures to the
Temple of Kofukuji. The Chinese Emperor found her very charming and
loved her very much, and when she told him of her promise, he put before
her many curios to choose from. She finally decided upon three fairy
treasures--a musical instrument which would continue to play for ever,
an ink-stone box which was inexhaustible, and the last, in Madame
Ozaki's words, "A beautiful crystal in whose clear depths was to be seen
from whichever side you looked, an image of Buddha riding on a white
elephant. The jewel was of transcendent glory, and shone like a star,
and whoever gazed into its liquid depths and saw the blessed vision of
Buddha had peace of heart for evermore."
But alas! while the treasures were on their way to Japan, there arose a
terrible storm, during which the crystal ball was stolen by the Dragon
King of the Sea. A poor fisherwoman at last found it shining in the
depths of the ocean. While in bathing, "she suddenly became aware of the
roofs of the palace of the Sea King, a great and gorgeous building of
coral, relieved here and there with clusters of many-coloured seaweeds.
The palace was like a huge pagoda rising tier upon tier. She perceived a
bright light, more brilliant than the light of many moons. It was the
light of Buddha's crystal placed on the pinnacle of this vast abode, and
on every side of the shining jewel were guardian dragons fast asleep,
appearing to watch even in their slumber." The fisherwoman stole the
jewel, but it cost her her life. In reward for her bravery her son was
brought up as a _samurai_, so the wish she had most at heart was
gratified.
CHAPTER XVI
SAYONARA DAI NIPPON
At the close of the last administration, L. resigned his post, and with
real regret we prepared to leave the Land of a Million Swords. We had
experienced nothing but the pleasantest relations with the Japanese, nor
had we at any time heard of rudeness to Americans.
The day we sailed L. was besieged with people who came to say good-bye.
Among those who called were Mr. Sakai and Mr. Yoshida, for the Foreign
Office. Mr. Matsui, the Vice-Minister of Foreign Affairs, brought us a
superb basket of flowers, while Mr. Nagasaki, Master of Ceremonies at
Court, presented us with some orchids from the Imperial greenhouse.
Best of all, as we thought at the time, Mr. Baba, Master of Ceremonies
to the Empress, came with a magnificent gold lacquer box from Her
Majesty. We received him in state in the parlour, and with much ceremony
and repeated bows he presented the gift, accompanying it with many
pleasant messages from the Empress. In return we bowed and expressed our
gratitude for the great honour, speaking of our love for the country and
our deep regret at leaving, and adding that we should always have the
happiest memories of our stay in beautiful Japan. The most gratifying
token of appreciation, however, has come to my husband since his
withdrawal from the diplomatic service. This is the grand cordon of the
Order of the Rising Sun, First Class, conferred in recognition of his
efforts to promote friendly relations between this country and Japan.
Many people telephoned to know by what train we were leaving, but we
decided to slip away to Yokohama in the motor. We looked for the last
time at the Embassy, with its pretty garden, where we had been so happy,
and getting into the car were shot out of the porte-cochère and around
the circle, waving good-bye to some of the Staff and the servants who
stood bowing at the door.
At the Consulate in Yokohama L. joined Mr. Sammons, the Consul-General,
and went to a luncheon at the Grand Hotel given in his honour by the
Asiatic and Columbia Societies, which are composed of the American
colony. All joined in drinking his health and in wishing him a pleasant
voyage and a speedy return. In answer L. said that during his all too
brief stay in Japan he had come to realize the great cordiality and
hospitality of the American community in Yokohama and other cities, and
this realization made it all the harder for him to say farewell. After
adding that each visit to Japan only made him like the country better,
he closed by saying that while he was about to cease to be officially
the Ambassador from one country to the other, he yet looked forward to
being in the future, unofficially, an ambassador between the two, and
hoped that he would soon see many of those present at his home, where
they would always be welcome.
I went to Mrs. Sammons' luncheon, where she had several ladies as
guests. The table decorations were exquisite, in Japanese style. After
luncheon Mrs. Sammons took me in her motor to the wharf, where we found
L. waiting for us with a number of people who had come to see us off.
Everybody cheered as we boarded the launch, which took us to the
steamer; there we found baskets of flowers, candies, books, and other
gifts awaiting us.
In a few minutes the big ship began to shake and the water to rush by,
and we knew that we were off. Soon the sun, a great red disk--fitting
national emblem of Japan!--went down in the glow of the dying day. Above
the darkness, which settled on earth and sea, rose the mysterious cone
of "O Fuji-San," seeming detached from all that was earthly below, a
divine spirit of a mountain-top, which slowly disappeared as the night
filled the heavens with stars.
As I sat in my steamer chair I had time to think again and again of the
land and the people we had left behind. I remembered with pleasure the
pretty, gentle women with their laughing, almond-eyed babies riding
happily on their mothers' backs, and recalled with admiration the
Spartan men, so loyal to their country. Closing my eyes I seemed to see
the quaint little streets, lined on either side with paper houses, in
front of which gay toys were displayed for sale. Industrious workmen,
making curious objects with their deft fingers, sat in their doorways,
and painters also, designing fantastic animals of the imagination. Once
I seemed to catch the perfume of the plum blossoms, and with it I
dreamed of golden temples on the hillside and thought I heard a Buddhist
priest muttering to himself, "All beings are only dreaming in this
fleeting world of unhappiness."
Mixed in the fantastic medley of this dream passed the animals of the
years--the strutting cock of 1912, the stolid bullock of 1913, and in
the distance the crouching tiger of the year to come. Then I saw the
little apes of Nikko, sitting motionless before me--Mizaru, who sees no
evil, Kikazaru, who hears no evil, and Mazaru, who speaks no evil. Above
them all flew the H-oo, the guiding bird of good omen, which only
appears to herald the coming of peace and prosperity. May he bring them
both to Japan!
[Illustration: THE LITTLE APES OF NIKKO.]
Many times since, on looking back, it has seemed as if Dai Nippon must
be all a dream--a fairy island, perhaps, conjured out of the sea by some
mighty giant. I often wonder if it did not truly sink into the sea
beneath the red eye of the setting sun.
When I am troubled about this, I get out Osame's letter and read it
again. It came to us soon after we reached home, and is very reassuring.
In order that you, too, may know that Japan is real, I will let you read
it.
"DEAR EXCELLENCY," he wrote L., "when the first news of your
coming to Japan announced I could not feel but the happiest news
like from Heaven, and only waited the day might flew to your
arriving date. The joy and happiness reached its maximum height
when I had the pleasure and delight of meeting you and Madam
once more at Kharbin. Three years passed since your last visit
and you and Madam had not least changed, like the peerless Fuji
towering high above the clouds I wished I had power to show you
the appreciation and gratitude I always indebted to you, but it
was vain effort.
"However Heaven blessed me that you had an interview three years
ago with late Emperor and now again with His Majesty his son, we
look up to them like a living God enthroned since 666 B.C. I was
so pleased. Now alas you passed away again from Japan at four
o'clock on the fifteenth instant. As I left the ship I could not
utter a word with the heart-rending unhappiness of parting from
you. The launch blew the whistle thrice, and puffing out a great
column of smoke she slowly moved away. I saw you fading sight
and thanked you for your kindness of watching me until we could
not discern each other. And the joy and happiness rolled with
the waves following your course. With no sign of encouragement I
reached shore and out the dream. I ran to the Post Office to
send a cable.
"I hope you are enjoying the best health and the best time. Do
not forget this humble Osame, always with you no matter what
part of the planet you may travel, and always glad and feel
happy to hear.
"Please recommend me to one who come to Japan.
"I hope I may be a little service to you for the rare
opportunity and honour in my life. With the best wishes for you
and Okusuma, anxiously awaiting to hear I remain
"Your humble servant,
"OSAME KOMORI."
So it ends, and so likewise, respectfully bowing, the "Rustic Wife"
makes her last apologies and bids the "Honourable Reader _sayonara_!"
THE END.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
ANDERSON, WILLIAM: Japanese Wood Engravings
ANETHAN, BARONESS ALBERT D': Fourteen Years of Diplomatic Life in
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AVERILL, MARY: Japanese Flower Arrangement
BACON, ALICE MABEL: Japanese Girls and Women
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BLACKER, J. F.: The A B C of Japanese Art
BRINKLEY, F. A.: Japan and China
BROWNELL, C. L.: The Heart of Japan
BURTON, MARGARET E.: The Education of Women in Japan
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---- Things Japanese
---- Aino Fairy Tales
CLEMENT, E. W.: Handbook of Modern Japan
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DICK, STEWART: Arts and Crafts of Old Japan. (In The World of Art
Series)
GORDON, REV. M. L.: An American Missionary in Japan
GRIFFIS, WILLIAM ELLIOT: Fairy Tales of Old Japan
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---- Townsend Harris, First American Envoy in Japan
---- The Mikado's Empire
GULICK, SIDNEY L.: The American Japanese Problem
---- Evolution of the Japanese
HARADA, TASUKU: The Faith of Japan
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---- The Japanese Nation
---- Thoughts and Essays
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TERRY, T. PHILIP: The Japanese Empire
INDEX
A
"A B C of Japanese Art," 366
Abe, Mr., 97
Adams, Mrs. Douglas, 234, 240
Ainus, 35, 274, 275, 277-291
Akasaka, 43, 73, 332, 333
Akashi, General, 18
Akashi Straits, 322
Akiko, 241
Altai Mountains, 2
Ama-no-Hashidate, 315
Ama-no-kagu, 238
Ama-terasu, 34, 137
Amaterasu-Omikami, 158
Ambassador, American, 41, 43, 45, 59, 81, 82, 84, 86, 87, 91,
92; French, 90
America, 54, 55, 58, 71, 94, 102, 115, 124-126, 148, 172, 195,
196, 200, 201, 205, 213, 235, 253, 340, 357, 372; diplomatic
service in, 41
American Board (of Foreign Missions), 207, 208
"American Japanese Problem, The," 118
Americans, 112, 117, 207
Amida, 174, 175
"Ancient Tales and Folklore of Japan," 219
Anethan, Baroness d', 170
Anezaki, Professor, 212
Aoyama, 78, 79
Arabia, 263
Arabs, 182
Arai, 312, 313
Argentina, 119, 120, 122
Arita, 372
Arnell, Mr., 260, 274
Arnold, Mr., 260
Arsenal Gardens, 347; (Korakuen), 348, 349
Asaka, Prince, 75
Asakusa Kwannon, 268
Asano, Lord of Ako, 62, 63
Asa, 237
Atami, 303, 305, 314
Atsuta, 313
Attachés, Naval and Military, 64, 96
Australia, 47, 114, 263
Austria, 96
Ayaha Festival, 158
Azuma-Bashi, 309
B
Baba, Mr., 375
Bacon, Miss Alice M., author, 148
Bahu, the Eater of Dreams, 323
Baikal, Lake, 3
Bakin, 230, 364
Baptists, 207
Bashô, epigram by, 140
Bean Night, 147
Benquet Road, 301
Benten, 299, 300
Benten-jima, 313
Bergson, 212
"Beyond, The," 240
Bismarck, quoted, 37
Biwa, Lake, 315, 316, 363
Bizen, 272
Blacker, J. F., 366
Bluff, the, 261, 296
Boardman, Miss, 16
Boshu Peninsula, 307
Boston, 50, 71, 361; Back Bay of, 50; Museum of Fine Arts, 357
Boys' Festival, 153, 336
Brazil, 119-122
Brazilians, 42
British, 117; Islands, 112
Broadway, 55
Brookline, Mass., 342
Brownell, Mr., 111, 226
Brownings, of Japan, 241
Brussels, last sight of, 1; to Kyoto, 3; palace in, 74
Bryan, Dr., 28, 329
Bryan, Secretary, 118
Bryn Mawr, 196
Buddha, 29, 35, 51, 61, 142, 152, 153, 174, 175, 177-179, 184,
297, 318, 357, 369-371, 373, 374
Buddhism, 160, 164, 173, 174, 184, 211, 328; in Korea, 16
Buddhist, 29, 46, 166, 196, 210, 213
_Bushido_, 164, 184-188
C
Caldwell, Mrs., 58
California, 59, 114-119
Canada, 274
Carolingians, 36
Catholics, Roman, 17
Central America, 114
Chamberlain, Professor, translation by, 138, 185
Champ de Mars, 78
Changchun, 4, 5
Chemulpo, 205
Chiba, 308
Chicago of Japan, the, 126
Chikamatsu, 243
Chile, 119
China, 19, 20, 45, 46, 55, 112, 120, 123-125, 133, 134, 156,
203, 209, 326, 329, 331, 349, 350, 352, 359, 373; suzerainty of,
12; Sea, 324
Chinese, 35, 141, 158, 200, 329
Chionin Temple, 28
Cho Densu, 358
Chosen (Korea), 6, 16, 17
Christianity, 201, 211, 212
Christians, 210, 213
Church, Roman, 184, 200
Chuzenji, 310
Clement, E. W., translator, 140
_Cleveland_, 93
Columbus, 133
Confucianism, 16, 211
Confucius, 184, 189, 329
Congregationalists, 207
Copts, 114
Corps, Diplomatic, 76, 77, 80, 90, 171
Court (Imperial), 52, 64, 74, 75, 76, 80, 97, 239; of St. James,
76; Shogun's, 142
Crawford, Marion, 96
Crown Prince, 50, 74
D
Daiba Pass, 305
Dai Butsu, 29, 317
Daini-No-Sammi, 238
_Dakota_, 308
Dalny, 13
Dango-zaka, 330
Danjuro, 253, 254
Daredesuka, 226-228
Davis, F. Hadland, author, 219
Dick, 46
Dickinson, Mr., 80; Mrs., 81
Diet, 98, 99, 101
Dolls' Festival, 147-150
Doshisha University, 210
Dutch, 42, 243, 363
E
Eastern Capital, 36
East River of Heaven, 156
Ebisu, 160
Egypt, 329, 330
Eighty Myriads of Gods, 137
Eikibo, 226-228
Elizabethan Era, 230
Embassy, American, 40, 42, 43, 45, 47, 52, 57, 60, 61, 64, 65,
69, 70, 81, 93-96, 101, 143, 146, 188, 193, 274, 298, 346;
Italian, 52
Emperor, the present, 24, 35, 50, 61, 64, 68, 70-76, 79, 80, 84,
99, 161, 177, 261, 380
Empress, the present, 69, 72, 75, 76, 79, 81, 375, 376; Dowager,
79, 95, 205, 206
Engineering College, 197
England, 97, 124, 255, 330
Enoshima, 293, 299, 300, 303
Episcopalians, 207
Eucken, 212
Europe, 85, 91, 96, 116, 120-122, 125, 126, 130, 134, 200, 253,
357, 363
Europeans, 48, 116, 120, 339
F
"Fairy Tales of Old Japan," 215
Feast of the Oven, 162
Fenner, Mr. J. A., 274, 277, 287, 288
Festival of the Dead, 157
"Fighting Spirit of Japan, The," quoted, 211, 267
Fire-God, 296
Florin, 118
Formosa, 13, 19, 114, 133, 206, 243; description of, 19-22
Forty-Seven Ronins, 61-63, 185, 243, 245, 256
Fox Temple Festival, 146
France, 241, 330
Freer (collection), 357
French, 42
Ferrero, Guglielmo, 119
Fuigo Matsuri, 161
Fuji, 4, 20, 183, 299, 300, 302, 339, 340, 359, 364, 378, 380
Fukuroi, 312
Fukushima, 311
Fushimi, Prince, 71; (Higashi), 76; Princess, 76
G
Gare du Nord, 1
_Genro_, 99
"Gentlemen's Agreement," 115
Germany, 55, 100, 124, 203
Ghosts of the Circle of Penance, 157
Gifu, 314
Ginza, the, 55
Gion Festival, 154
Go-chiku, 30
God of Long Breath, 301
Gordon, Dr., 105
Gosho Palace, 29, 32
Gotimba, 303, 314
Grand Hotel, 376
Great Bell, Kyoto, 29
Great Britain, 124
Great Council, 87
Greece, 243, 255
Greeks, 118, 184, 356
Greene, Rev. Dr., 208, 212
Griffis, Dr. W. E., quoted, 185, 215
Guiccioli, Marchesa, 90
Gulick, Dr. Sidney L., quoted, 118
H
Hachiro Tametomo, 219-226
Hakone, 302; Pass, 296; Range, 302
Haky-i and Shiky-sei, 349
Hamano, 308; Lagoon, 312
Harashiyawa, 316
Harikiku, 247
Harima, 319
Harris, Mr. Townsend, 84-89
Harrison, Mr. E. J., author, 211, 212, 266
Hawaii, 113
Hearn (Lafcadio), quoted, 83, 151, 173, 234, 235; referred to,
103, 168
Hepburn, Dr., 203, 209
Heusken, Mr., 87, 88
Hideyoshi, 29
Himeji, 355
Hindoos, 182
Hirado, 324
Hiroshige, 363
Hiroshima, 322
Hokkaido, 35, 274, 275, 285, 292, 320
Hokusai, 359, 364
Holland, 296, 346
Hongwanji, Eastern and Western, 29; Eastern, 175; Garden, 178
Honolulu, 207
H-oo, 379
Horikawa, Lady, 238
Hosigaoko (in Sanno), 271
Horse Day, 146
Household, Imperial, 72
Hudson, the, 322
Hyde, Miss, 51
Hyogo (Kobe), 127, 319 Point, 322
I
Ichinomiya, 308
Ichiriki Tea-house, 245
Icliejo-Tadado, 79
_Ike-bana_, 336-338, 345
Ikegami, 160
Ikko, 174, 175
Imari, 272
Imazu, 315
Imperial University, 197, 212 Theatre, 251, 252 Museum, 368
Inada, Princess, 154
Inage, 308
India, 124, 200, 328 Southern, 174
Indians, 118
Inland, Sea, 35, 155, 183, 294, 320-324, 339, 363
Ippo, 359
Irving, Henry, 254
Ise, Temple of, 4, 84; shrine of, 34, 167, 168, 183
Italians, 47, 118, 119
Italy, 96
Ito, Prince, 83, 98, 99
_Itsukushima_, 155
Iyeyasu, Tokugawa, 37, 180; Precepts of, 182
Izanagi, 34, 113
Izanami, 34, 113
Izumo, 159
J
Jaehne, 45
Japan Club of Harvard University, 14
"Japanese Empire, The," 27
"Japanese Girls and Women," quoted, 148-150
"Japanese Nation, The," 189
_Japan Magazine_, 115, 240, 303, 329
Jesuit, 37
Jew, 119
Jimmu Tenno, 35, 235
Jingo, Empress, 36, 163
"Jinrikisha Days," 16, 244
Jito, Empress, 238
Jizo, 172, 173, 352
Johnson, Governor, 118
Jokusai, Iizuka, and Saiihara-Ichidayu, 368
K
Kadenokuji and Kiogo, Viscounts, 271
Kagawa, Countess, 82
Kaka, 173
Kai, 333
Kamakura, 251, 293, 296-299, 369
Kamazawa, 316
Kameido, 328
Kameoka, 315
Kamisana, 321
Kanagawa, 203
Kanaoka, 357, 358
Kan-chiku, 30
Kaneko, Baron, 14
Kanemori Taira, 237
Kan-in, Prince and Princess, 71, 75
Kano, 314; School, 358
Katsura, Prince, 71, 97, 99, 100
Katsu-ura, 308
Kawamori, 315
Keane, Mr., 361
Kengyu (Aquila), 156
Keum-Kang-San, peaks of, 16
Keyser, Lieutenant, 274, 277, 278, 280, 281, 287, 288
Kharbin, 3, 5, 13, 380
_Kiai_, 186
Kido, 190
Kii, 320
Kikugoro, 253
Kinokiyama, 315
Kira, 62, 63
Kishu, Prince, 333
Kiyomisu, 349
Kiyomori, 220
Kiyonaga, 362
Kiyonobu, 362
Kitzuki, 167, 168, 254
Knox, Mr., 26
Kobe, 123, 126, 293, 318-321
Kodama, Countess, 16; Count, 18
Kofukuji, 373
Kojin, 152
Kompira, 184
Komura, Baron, 14
Konosu (Hyaku Ana), 307
Korea, 1, 3, 6, 10, 21, 36, 114, 133, 163, 198, 315, 371;
mourning in, 7; dethroned Emperor and Empress of, 11; Empress
Bin of, 11; history of, 12-15; religions, 16; missions, 17, 18;
Crown Prince of, 259; southern, 18, 19
Koreans, 35, 200, 259, 315
Koro Halcho, 320
Kosai Maru, 206
Koshiro Matsumoto, 254
Koya-san, 183
Kozo Ozaki, 230
Kozu, 303, 312, 314
Kumamoto, 355
Kushiro, 274, 275, 277
Kutani and Awada, 372
Kutchare, Lake, 277
Kwannon, 297, 298, 318, 369, 370
Kyoka Izumi, 231
Kyoto, 23, 24, 27, 34, 36, 39, 40, 44, 154, 162, 175, 215, 217,
218, 237, 293, 299, 311, 314-316, 318, 319, 349, 372; Brussels
to, 3; description of, 28; prefecture, 33; _geishas_ of, 245,
248
Kyushu, 221, 324, 355
L
Lancers, Imperial, 64, 78
Landsborough, Mr., 118
"Latin-American A-B-C," 119
Laughing Festival of Wasa, 159, 160
Liaotung Peninsula, 13
London, 59, 76
Loochoo Islands, 132, 364
_Los Angeles Times_, 119
Lucky Day, the, 146
Luther of Japan, the, 160
M
MacCauley, Rev. Dr., 207
Madonna, 298
Maiko, 319
Maisaka, 312
Makino, Baron, 80
Malay Peninsula, 114
Malays, in Formosa, 21
Manazuru, 303
Manchuria, 3, 5, 13-15, 114, 134
Maple-Leaf Club, 250
Masanobu, 362
Massachusetts, 101
Masumi Hino, Professor, 210, 211
Matabei, 361
Matsui, Mr., 375
Matsushima, 311, 320
Mayon, 300
McKim, Bishop, 206
Meiji Era, 98, 201, 237
Meiji Tenno, 24, 39, 82, 234, 240
Memorial Temple, 25
Mencius, 189
Menpes, Mortimer, 350
Mera, 308
"Merchant of Venice, The," 260
Meredith, George, 231
Mexicans, 118
Mexico, City of, 96
Michel Angelo, work of, 356
Michinoku, 237
Middle Ages, 133
Mikado, the, 25, 34-37, 39, 65, 81-84, 97, 98, 332
Milky Way, 156
Ming Tombs, 36
Mishima, 302, 305
Misogi, Festival of the, 155
Miwa-Daimyo-jin, 159, 160
Miyajima, 155, 183, 323
Miyanoshita, 296, 299, 301, 302, 305, 310
Miyazu, 315
Mizaru, Kikazaru, and Mazaru, 379
Moji, 324
Momoyama, 24
_Mon_ (entrance gate), 11
Mongols, 2
Moon Festival, 158
Moronobu, 359, 362
Morrison, Mr. Arthur, quoted, 366
Morrison, Mt., 19; renamed Niitaka-yama, 20
Moscow, 2, 3
Mound of Ears, 314
Mukden, 14
Murray, 268
Mutsuhito, Emperor, 24, 27, 79; tomb of, 24
"My People," 28
"Myths and Legends of Japan," 219
N
Nagahama, 316
Nagasaki, 38, 123, 321, 324
Nagasakis, the, 75, 375
Nagoya, 34, 227, 228, 313, 314; Castle, 227, 355
Nakamura, 272
Nakamuraza, Theatre, 254
Nakasendo, 314
Nara, 155, 316-318, 341, 357, 368, 369
Narai, 309
Narita, 309
Naturalistic School, 359
Navetta, 321
Nazano, 320
Negishi, 262
New Year, 136, 138, 140-144, 146
New York, 119, 122
Nichiren, 160, 308
Night, Queen of the, 158
Nijo Castle, 32
Nikko, 71, 180, 182, 293, 310, 318, 349, 353, 379
Ninigi, 34, 35
Ninsei, 372
Ni-o, 166
Nippon Race Club, 261
Nirvana, 178, 298
Nitobe, Dr., 95, 165, 189, 231
_No_, 242, 243, 270, 271
Nogi, General, 13, 14, 171, 185, 188, 196
Nomura, 372
Northmen, 235
Norway, 119
Nowazu, 79
O
Oanamochi, 301
Obama, 315
Obi River, 2
O'Brien, Mrs., 82
Odawara, 303
Ogo-Harito, 320
Oishi, 63, 245
Okio, 359
Okubo, 99, 190
Okuma, Count, 78, 99, 208
O Kuni, 254, 255
Onomichi, 322
Order of the Rising Sun, Third Class of the, 209; First Class of
the, 376
Osaka, 126, 215, 217-219, 264, 313, 318, 319, 354, 355
Osaka Museum, 61
Osaki Batsume, 231
Osame Komori, 4, 5, 56, 74, 94, 298, 299, 306, 314, 379, 381
O Sawa, 46
Oshima, 224, 225
Otome-Toge, 302
Otsu, 316
Ozaki, Madame, 96, 97, 214, 219, 373; Mr., 96, 99, 100
P
Panama Canal, 112, 122
Paris, 78, 95, 241, 363
Pasteur, 214
Peabody, Professor, quoted, 114
Peace Society, Japanese, 95, 96
Peking, 359; palace in, 11
Peony Hall, 69, 70
Perry, Commodore, 38, 97; reception, 331
Pescadores, 13
Philadelphia, 196
Philippines, 46, 59, 80, 114, 207, 300, 301
Phoenix Hall, 68
Port Arthur, 13, 14, 15, 206
Porter, William, translator, 237, 238
Portsmouth, N. H., treaty signed at, 14
Portugal, 121
Portuguese, 37
Presbyterians, 207
President of the United States, 38, 85, 87
"Priest, The," 241
Protestantism (of Japan), 174, 201
R
Rainier, Mount, 300
Red Cross, 16, 205, 206
Reese, Mr., 118
Religion, Japanese Bureau of, 209
Riddell, Miss, 204
Rohan Koda, 231
Rokumeikan, 78
Romans, 184
Rome, 119
Room of One Thousand Seeds, 70, 72
Russia, 96, 123, 205; negotiations with, 14; furs in, 55
Russo-Japanese War, 19, 126
S
Sada Yakko, Madame, 253
Sadanji, 254
Saghalien, 15, 19
Saigo, 355
Saikyo (Kyoto), 28
Sai-no-Kawara, 173
Sakai, Mr., 375
Sakatani, Baron, 213
Sakon-No-Sakura, 31
Salvation Army, 268
Samba (Ikku), 243
Sammons, Mr. and Mrs., 376, 377
Sandalphon, 176
San Francisco, 122, 190
San Joaquin, 118
Sankei, 311, 315, 323
Satsuma, 35; Lord of, 132; province of, 197; ware, 372
Scidmore, Consul-General, 9; Miss, 16, 244
Secretaries, 64
Secretary, First, 43; First Japanese, 43; of War, American, 59,
80, 81
Seiryoden, 30
Sengen, 301
Seno, Madame (the Japanese Hetty Green), 110
Seoul, 3, 18, 22
Seoul, arrival in, 9; American colony in, 17
Sesshiu, 359
Seto (porcelain), 372
Seven Gods of Good Fortune, 142
Seyukai, 99
Shakespeare, of Japan, 243
Shamanism, 16
Shanghai, 209
Sharaku, 363
Shari, 277
Shiba, Park, 60, 158, 347; Temples, 60
Shijo Road, 154
Shimoda, 85
Shimonoseki, treaty of, 13; Straits of, 14; Chosen to, 22;
shrine in, 163; passed, 324
Shimono-Suwa, 309
Shinano, Prince of, 87
Shinji, Lake, 320
Shinmei Feast, 158
Shin-Maizuru, 315
Shinto, 25, 26, 142, 163-170, 184, 210
Shintoists, 210, 213
Shiojiri Toge, 309
Shishinden, 30
Shizuoka, 312
Shogun, 32, 38, 60, 62, 85-88, 97, 243, 286, 331, 362
Shokonsha, 161
Shunsho, 364
Siberia, 2, 69
Siberian Express, 2
Sierras, Californian, 3
Smith, R. Gordon, 219
Soami and Enshiu, 341
Societies, Asiatic and Columbia, 101, 376
Society of Universal Love, 205; Asiatic, 208
Sodesuka, Mrs., 111
Soi-ko, 349
Sojuro and Sawamura, 254
Sonnomiya, Baroness, 95
Sonobe, 315
Sosen, 359
Sosei, author, 327
South America, 113, 119, 120, 122
Southern Cross, 20
Spain, 263
Spalding, Mr. William, 361, 362
Staff, American Embassy, 40, 51, 58, 64, 68, 143
Stars, Festival of the, 155
State Department, 86
St. Valentine's Day, 94
Suchi, 315
Suez Canal, 122
Sujin, 36
Sun-Goddess, 34, 36, 66, 137, 167, 183
Susa-no-o, 137
Susa-no-o-no-mikoto, Prince, 154
Swift, Professor, 193
Syrians, 114
T
Taiken, Empress, 238
Tai-kun, 87, 88
Tai-Sho, 24
Takahama, 315
Takasu, 239
Takeda Izuma, 243
Tanabata, Princess, 156
Tateyama, 308
Temma, river, 355
Tennu, Emperor, 238
Terauchi, Count, 15
Terry, author, 27
Teshikaga, 276
Testevinde, Father, 203
Teusler, Dr., 204
Thanksgiving (Japanese), 162
"Theft of the Golden Scale, The," 226
Throne Room, 72, 76
Toda, Count, 67
Togo, Admiral, 13, 14
Tokaido, 86, 286, 299, 313, 314, 363, 364
Tokugawa, House of, 39; family, 61; government, 97; Period, 37,
38, 188, 200, 201, 372; Prince (Keiki), 38, 39
Tokyo, 26, 27, 33, 36, 39, 40, 42, 43, 51, 55, 59, 60, 62, 65,
77, 78, 85, 90, 91, 94, 102, 110, 115, 126-128, 132, 138, 141,
158, 160, 161, 170, 171, 192, 193, 197, 204, 206, 212, 213, 231,
250, 251, 254, 258, 262, 265, 267, 272, 275, 285, 290, 291, 294,
299, 305, 306, 307-314, 329, 347, 348, 364, 368; Bay, 308;
London to, 3; Boys' Guild of, 46; climate of, 50; Club, 101,
102; Normal School, 188, 193; University, 197
Tomiji and Kanoko (maikos), 247
Torakichi Inouye, 128
Torii Toge, 309
Tosa, 358
Toyohashi, 313
Toyokuni, 363
Trans-Siberian, 2
"Travels of the Two Frogs, The," 215
Treasure Ship, 142
Tsuda, Miss, 195, 196
Tsukiji, 42
Tsure Yuki Kino, 239
Tsuruzo, 254
Turkey, 96
U
Ukioye, 359, 362, 364
Ukon-No-Tachibana, 31
United States, 40, 59, 94, 115-117, 122-124
Ural Mountains, 2
Utamaro, 362, 363
"Utopia," More's, 229
Utsunomiya, 310
Uyeno Park, 61, 146, 262
Uzume-no-Mikoto (Okame), 367
V
Vandyke, 364
Van Royen, Madame, 58
Vega (star), 156
Venice, of Japan, 318
Vienna, 41, 313
Vladivostok, 3, 22
Vries Island, 303, 308
W
Wadagaki, Prof. K., translator, 182
_Wakamegari-no Shinji_, 163
Wakamiya, 318
Wallace, Rev. Dr., 207
"Warriors of Old Japan," 219
Waseda, 192
Washington, 50, 138, 340
Washington's Birthday, 94, 340
Watanabe, 46, 48, 94, 95, 148, 340
Watanabe, Count, 67
Western Capital, 36
West River, 156
Whistler, 364
Wigmore, Major, 274, 276, 277, 287, 288
X
Xavier, Francis, 200
Y
Yahakii, 320
Yahashira, Prince, 154
Yalu River, 13, 14, 100
Yamagata, met at luncheon, 13
Yamamoto, 99, 100
Yamato, 191
Yamisaki, 174
Yedo, 36, 85, 86, 252, 351; Bay of, 361
Yezo, 35
Yi, Prince, the Elder, 12; Prince, the Younger, 12; dynasty, 12
Yokohama, 90, 93, 94, 101, 207, 209, 259, 261, 262, 293-296,
302, 305, 319, 361, 376; United (club), 101; Bund, 303, 361
Yorimasa, 153
Yosai, 360
Yosano, 241
Yoshida, Professor, 197; Mr., 375
Yoshitomo, 220, 223, 224
Yoshiwara, 267
Yuragawa, 315
Z
Zen, 186, 187
Transcriber Notes:
Passages in italics were indicated by _underscores_.
Small caps were replaced with ALL CAPS.
Throughout the document, the oe ligature was replaced with "oe".
Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents
of the speakers. Those words were retained as-is.
The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up
paragraphs and so that they are next to the text they
illustrate. Thus the page number of the illustration might not
match the page number in the List of Illustrations, and the
order of illustrations may not be the same in the List of
Illustrations and in the book.
Errors in punctuations and inconsistent hyphenation were not
corrected unless otherwise noted.
On page 130, "cooperative" was replaced with "coöperative".
On page 276, "showshoes" was replaced with "snowshoes".
On page 384, a quotation mark was added after "European and
Japanese Gardens".
On page 389, a comma was added after "Indians".
On page 391, a period was removed after "Meiji Tenno, 24, 39,
82, 234, 240".
On page 394, a semicolon was added after "Shimonoseki, treaty
of, 13".
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