AN EVENING SHOW
"Speaking of dolls," said Mr. Montell to Nan, when they all met at
dinner, "we Westerners have no idea of their value nor of the sentiment
with which they are regarded here in Japan. Did you know that there was
once a doll so human that it ran out of a house which had caught on
fire?"
"Oh, Mr. Montell!" Nan looked her incredulity.
"If you don't believe it I refer you to that wonderful writer upon
Japan, Lafcadio Hearn. It is a belief in this country that after
generations of care and devotion, certain dolls acquire a soul; as a
little girl told Mr. Hearn, 'they do when you love them enough.'"
"I think that is perfectly charming," cried Nan. "Tell me something
more about the dolls. We were deeply interested in those we saw this
afternoon, but we hadn't time to examine them all to see if there were
any among them who had gained a soul through love. Have you been to a
Doll Festival, Mr. Montell?"
"Oh, yes, and to several other festivals, for I have been here since
the first of January."
"And which was the first festival you saw?"
"The feast of the New Year which lasts about two weeks. It is something
like our Christmas holiday lengthened out, for during the whole month
every one wears his, or her, best clothes, gifts are exchanged, and
there is much visiting back and forth; besides, the Japanese homes
overflow with dainties, at least with what they consider dainties.
There is a cake made of rice flour, and called _mochi_, which isn't
half bad."
"I rather like the rice cakes, and I have always liked rice, but when
it comes to raw fish and such things I draw the line. Imagine seeing a
perfectly good live fish brought to the table and then seeing your host
calmly carve slices from its writhing sides! Ugh! I hate even to think
of it. Were you ever present when such a thing was done?"
"Yes, I was on one occasion, and I cannot say that the vision increased
my appetite. I had the good fortune to be given letters of introduction
to one or two prominent Japanese families and have been able to see
something of the home life of the people. It is really charming when
you know it. I never knew a more beautiful hospitality, nor a sweeter
spirit of gentleness shown."
"They do seem a happy race, for they are perpetually smiling."
"And yet we would think the lot of most a most unhappy one."
"Except the children's and some of the old people's. I have been
shocked to see what terrible burdens some of the poor old women carry.
I had an impression that all old people in Japan were revered and were
treated as something very precious."
"On general principles it is so, but among the lower classes the women
are treated with little respect and have duties imposed upon them which
make one fairly groan to think of."
"I have learned that women have not a price above rubies in this land,
although they are much more fascinating than I imagined. Mrs. Otamura
is the most delicate, doll-like little creature, really very pretty and
with such an exquisitely gracious and graceful manner. That reminds me
again of the dolls. Is it real food they offer them? I wasn't quite
sure and I didn't like to ask."
"Oh, yes, it is real rice and _saké_ and all that which you probably
saw. It is a great pleasure to the little girls to set a meal before
their dolls whenever one is served to themselves."
"Such beautiful little lacquered and china sets of dishes they were,
too; I felt like playing with them myself. When is there another
festival, Mr. Montell?"
"I think the feast of the Cherry Blossoms will be the next important
one, but there are little shows all the time, small temple festivals
rather like a fair, such as one sees in Europe in the small towns."
"And can one buy things at them?"
Mr. Montell laughed. "The difficulty will be not to buy, for you will
be pestered with persistent venders of all sorts of wares."
"We bought such a funny lot of little bodyless dolls to-day; we felt
that we must have some, such dear little faces with downcast eyes and
such a marvelous arrangement of hair. They were only five _rin_ apiece.
I am just learning the value of the coins, and only learned to-day that
there was such a thing as a _mon_. I have it written on the tablets of
my memory that ten _mon_ make a _rin_ and ten _rin_ make a _sen_. Five
rin, then, is about half a cent, so our dollies are very cheap."
"I recognize your little doll at once; she is O-Hina-San. You see her
frequently, though, as you may have observed, no O-Hina-San looks
exactly like another."
"Well, at all events she is a very cunning little person. I am
surprised to find what cheap and pretty things one can buy for so very
little. Don't you think that in the countries where there are coins
of such small denominations one can always find cheaper things than at
home? When I am in Europe I always think twice before spending five
centimes and twenty-five seem a whole great big lot, yet they represent
only five cents of our money, and who hesitates to spend a nickel? If
we had mills as well as cents I believe it would soon reduce the price
of things."
Mr. Montell laughed. "That is a theory to present to our political
economists who are trying to get at the cause of the high price of
living. Will you write an article on the subject? I might place it for
you."
Nan shook her head. "No, indeed. I will present you with the idea and
you can work it up for your paper. I could do better with an article on
the Doll Festival. Dear me, why didn't I come to Japan before I left
college? I love that theory of their gaining souls, and, indeed, some
are so lifelike that it is hard to believe they are not alive, and some
of them that we saw were over a hundred years old."
"You know the dolls are never thrown away, but are given something
like honorable obsequies. The very, very old ones must, in due course
of time, become hopeless wrecks. They are not exactly buried, but are
given to the god _Kojin_. A mixed person is _Kojin_, being neither a
Shinto nor a Buddhist deity. A tree is planted near the shrine where
he lives, and sometimes the poor old worn-out doll is laid at the foot
of the tree, sometimes on the shrine; but if the tree happens to be
hollow, inside goes dolly."
"Isn't it all entertaining and surprising?" returned Nan. "I suppose
you have seen and have learned many wonderful things."
"More than I hoped to. I am going further up into the country after a
while, for in the isolated districts one can get at some very curious
customs which have not become modified by modern invasion."
"Just as it is in Spain or any other country which is not
tourist-ridden."
"I am wondering if there may not be a temple festival to-night; I will
inquire. If there is we must all go, for it is something that every
foreigner should see."
"An evening affair, is it?"
"Yes, and for that reason the more interesting, to my mind."
"Do you hear that?" Nan turned to the others. "Mr. Montell is going to
pilot us all to an evening street show, a temple festival. Won't it be
fine?"
"Is it this evening?" Miss Helen inquired. "If it is I am afraid you
will have to count me out, for I have about used up my strength for
to-day."
"Even after having had a reinforcement of food?" inquired Nan.
"It won't prevent your going, dear child," said Miss Helen. "You know
we agreed that we were not going to stand on the order of our going and
coming, and that any one who felt inclined should always be at liberty
to drop out of any expedition she felt disinclined to make."
"I think you young people would better undertake the show," put in Mrs.
Craig. "Nell and Neal can chaperon you all, and we elders can stay at
home and keep one another company. I have seen temple shows galore, so
I shall lose nothing."
This was agreed upon, and they all arose from the table, separating
into groups, the younger people going to the front to look out upon the
passing crowd, while Miss Helen and Mrs. Craig seated themselves for a
talk over the plans for the following day.
Mr. Montell went off to make his inquiries. Nan and Eleanor Harding
paced up and down the corridors, leaving Mary Lee with Mr. Harding.
"We don't know a thing about Tokyo," said Mary Lee addressing her
companion. "What is the name of this street, for instance?"
"It is a part of the great Tokiado Road which is three hundred miles
long."
"Gracious!" exclaimed Mary Lee. "Where does it end?"
"It goes from Tokyo to Kioto and passes through many towns. It is
really a wonderful trip from one city to the other."
"Have you taken it?"
"Yes, I went with a party of six."
"How did you travel?"
"By _jinrikisha_."
"Dear me, all that distance?"
"Yes, indeed. The runners can travel six or seven miles an hour,
sometimes even as much as eight, and it is really a most agreeable way
to go, for one has a chance of seeing the country as he would in no
other way, unless he walked."
"I wish we could do it."
"There is no reason why you shouldn't. If you are good walkers you can
relieve the monotony by getting out once in a while; we did whenever we
felt inclined, and over the mountains it was a distinct advantage."
"I am afraid that wouldn't appeal to Aunt Helen particularly. She is
not so ready as she used to be to endure discomfort, and we shall
probably have enough of that if we keep on beaten tracks. There are
wonders in abundance to be found without doing any terrific stunts, and
I reckon we may as well keep to them."
"How long had you planned to stay?"
"Oh, I don't know. We haven't planned at all. We will stay till we
think it is time to go. I suppose we shall get homesick for mother and
the twinnies in course of time."
"You'd better do as much of your sightseeing as possible before the
rainy season begins."
"And when may we expect that it will?"
"It is liable to start in almost any time during the spring, but
usually extends through late spring and early summer."
Just here Mr. Montell returned with the news that he was correct in his
surmise and that there would be a night festival in another part of the
city. "It is over by ten o'clock," he told them, "so we'd better be off
if we want to enjoy it."
The girls rushed to their rooms to prepare themselves for the outing
while the young men hunted up the _jinrikishas_ which were to take them
to the spot.
"We shall be tired enough after an hour in that jostling crowd," Mr.
Montell replied when it was proposed by the girls that they should
walk one way.
"And besides," put in Mary Lee, "we have been going all day, and we
must not get tired out in the very beginning, for we want to save up
for all the rest there is to see."
So off they set in the _jinrikishas_, to arrive at last before the
temple which was supposed to occasion the gathering of the crowd which
jostled and clattered within a small radius. Just now it was at its
greatest. At first the arriving party merely stood still to see the
varying scene. A few turned to look at the foreigners, but such were
by no means rare in this huge city and they did not arouse as great an
interest as did the booths and the flower show.
"Isn't it the weirdest sight?" said Nan to Mr. Harding who had her in
charge while Mary Lee and Eleanor were under the care of Mr. Montell.
"It is certainly different from anything we have at home," he returned.
"Shall we see the flowers first? I think we may as well move with the
crowd, as it will be easier than standing still where one is liable to
be shoved and pushed about."
They slowly made their way toward the spot where there was a
magnificent display of flowering plants, young trees, and shrubs lining
both sides of the streets. The only lights were those of torches,
which flickered in the wind, and of gay paper lanterns swung aloft.
"Before you attempt to buy anything," Mr. Harding said, "let me warn
you not to pay the price first asked. The system of jewing down is the
order of things here and you will be cheated out of your eyes if you
don't beat down your man."
"I am afraid I don't know enough of the language to do anything more
than pay what they ask, unless you will consent to do the bargaining,
that is, if your proficiency in the language will allow."
"I think I can manage that much," he replied cheerfully.
Nan paused before a beautiful dwarf wisteria. "What wouldn't I give to
have that at home," she said, "but when one considers that it would
have to be toted six thousand miles, it doesn't encourage one to add it
to one's impedimenta. I am already aware that I shall have the hugest
sort of collection to take home with me, and my sister is continually
warning me not to buy everything I see. I think, however, I shall have
to get just one little lot of cut flowers to take back to Aunt Helen.
Oh, those are cherry blossoms, aren't they? The dear pinky lovely
things! I shall have to get a branch of those". They paused before the
beautiful collection of plants and flowers whose charms were being made
known vociferously by the flower dealer. Foreigners are easy prey of
course, so at once the price was put up beyond all reason.
Mr. Harding shook his head. "Too much," he said in the vernacular,
and immediately the price dropped perceptibly, but it required more
haggling before it came within the limits of reason. But finally Nan
bore off her treasure in triumph, holding it carefully above the heads
of the crowd. This was rather an easy matter as she was much taller
than the general run of those who constituted the throng, and more than
once was regarded with amusement. She could not leave the flower show,
however, without one more purchase, this time a beautiful little dwarf
tree in full flower, for Mrs. Craig, "who," explained Nan, "has a place
to keep it."
Mr. Harding assumed the responsibility of carrying this purchase, and,
leaving the flowers, they pressed their way toward the booths where
myriads of toys were for sale. "Things unlike anything in the heavens
above or the earth beneath or the waters under the earth," exclaimed
Nan pausing before a booth which attracted her and which was surrounded
by children looking with eager longing at the toys. Most of them, to
be sure, would be certain not to go home empty-handed, for the parents
of these were seldom too poor to spend half a cent to please a child.
But there was one little pale-faced creature with the inevitable baby
on her back who did seem destitute of a _sen_ or even a _rin_.
"There is an example of womanhood's burdens," said Mr. Harding,
watching the slight figure in its gay kimono. "The little girls are
seldom without a baby on their backs, it seems to me; no wonder they
look old and bent and wizened before their time, yet they are the most
cheerful, laughing creatures in the world, and do not seem to mind
being weighted down with a baby any more than American children would
with a hat."
"But this seems a particularly small girl and a particularly big and
lusty baby," returned Nan, eyeing the little motherly creature. "Do you
suppose I might make her a present? I wonder what she would like best
of anything on this stall."
"Shall I ask her?"
"Oh, will you?"
Mr. Harding put the question, but beyond the answering smile, there
was no reply from the shy little maid, though her interest in the
foreigners was immediately awakened.
"There is a lovely O-Hina-San," whispered Nan. "Do you suppose she
would like that?"
"I am sure it wouldn't come amiss, and would be worth the guess."
"Then I will get it at the risk of a whole half cent." She laid down
her five _rin_ and took up the queer little figure, a flat stick
covered with a gay kimono made of paper, and surmounted by a pretty
little head. Nan held out the gift smilingly, but the little girl
looked at her wonderingly, making no effort to take it. Nan opened the
small fingers and clasped them around the doll. The child smiled and
looked at Mr. Harding.
"For you," said he in the child's own language.
The smile brightened and down went the child, unmindful of the baby,
her head touching earth while her tongue was unloosened to say "Arigato
gozaimasu," which meant "honorable thanks."
"Now I must get something for the baby," declared Nan; "that is, if
I can get any idea of what these things are for. There is a most
fascinating red and blue monkey clasping a stick; that strikes me as
appropriate. Will you ask how much it is?"
Mr. Harding put the question. "One-eighth of a cent," he told her, "and
this is 'Saru,' the 'Honorable Monkey'; why honorable, I cannot say."
The toy dealer picked up one of these toys, pressed a spring and lo!
the monkey ran up the stick. "I must have him. All that for one-eighth
of a cent! Surely this is a Paradise for children." She placed the
monkey in the baby's little fat hand. He regarded it gravely, but his
little sister again prostrated herself to offer her "honorable thanks,"
and rising, looked at Nan with as adoring an expression as her small
wan face could assume.
"And all for less than a cent," said Nan. "I should like to spend the
rest of the evening buying toys for these poor little mother-sisters. I
could buy thousands for a dollar."
But by now the little girl had moved away, probably to go home with the
wonderful tale of the foreign lady, who had given her an experience
which was quite as delightful as the presents themselves; and Nan with
her escort followed along with the crowd, stopping to examine the toys
and have their meaning explained whenever possible.
"Many of these toys have a religious meaning," Mr. Harding told her.
"All these queer little images represent some god. Fukusuke looks like
a jolly sort of a boy, and Uzume who is the god of laughter, I take
it, is a most merry personage. That one with a fish under his arm is
Ebisu, the god of markets and of fishermen."
Seeing their interest, the dealer picked up a figure representing a
hare sitting on a sort of handle of what Nan took to be a bowl of some
sort. "Usagi-no-kometsuki," said the man.
"Aha! this is Hare-in-the-Moon," exclaimed Mr. Harding. "He is cleaning
his rice."
"Oh, is that what the pestle is for? I have seen them cleaning rice;
they do it by stepping on the handle."
"The next time you see the moon, look up and try to discover
Usagi-no-kometsuki. Will you allow me to present him to you?" He bought
the little toy and handed it over to Nan who laughingly accepted it,
and they went on past the booths showing more toys, or sometimes quaint
little ornaments, strange compounds of confections or fans, goldfish
and such things, all entertaining enough to one unaccustomed to such a
display.
Presently the crowd began to thin out, the torches flickered
uncertainly, paper lanterns bobbed off in different directions as
individuals took their way home; the clatter of the wooden clogs grew
less noticeable. Nan suddenly came to a realizing sense that the show
was over "Oh, is it time to go?" she asked. "I wonder where the others
are. We have not once seen them. I forgot everything in my interest in
the show."
Her companion smiled. "It is easy to see that you are a person who
has not worn out her enthusiasms," he said. "We will hunt up a
_jinrikisha_, if you say so, for the flower dealers are packing up
their wares, and it is after ten o'clock."
Stowed away in a _jinrikisha_, they were borne away from the fast
dimming scene, and after what seemed a labyrinthine journey through
strange streets they stopped at the door of the hotel.
[Illustration: CHAPTER VI
AT KAMAKURA]