THE SPELL OF JAPAN
THE SPELL SERIES
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
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
THE PAGE COMPANY
53 beacon street, boston, mass.
Court and Gate, Shiba Park, Tokyo
(See page 60)
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]
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.
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.
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.
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.
"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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
"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.
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.
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.
THE MOATS, IMPERIAL CASTLE, TOKYO.