April, flows for two miles between blossom-laden banks. Crowds gather
then from miles around, to gaze upon its beauty. The newspapers announce
each day the progress of the coloring, and maps of the city are sold, on
which are indicated in pink the groves of cherry-trees. Old Mother Earth
grows young again, and every heart, however sad, becomes rejuvenated too,
at the sight of thousands of these huge bouquets, lifting their clouds of
pale pink blossoms toward the light blue sky. Hundreds of pleasure-boats
also then float along the stream, which mirrors the gorgeous spectacle
above. A Japanese poet says: "I wish to cross the river, but fear to cut
the brocade upon its surface." Meanwhile, along the banks are thousands
of other admirers, on foot or in jinrikishas; and not infrequently a
mischievous breeze plucks handfuls of the dainty petals and scatters them
upon the upturned faces, like flakes of tinted snow.
[Illustration: A TEA-HOUSE ORNAMENTED WITH WISTARIA.]
As we might expect from such a refined and artistic race, the Japanese
are enthusiastic in their love of flowers. One of their favorite deities
is called "The Goddess who causes the blossoms to open." With them, to
make up parties for a floral exhibition is just as fashionable as for
us to arrange box-parties for the theatre. Even in winter they will
not allow themselves to be deprived of some enjoyment of this sort.
Hence they call snow-crystals a kind of flower, and expeditions to see
snow-displays form one of the regular amusements of the season.
[Illustration: A DWARF MAPLE.]
[Illustration: THE GREAT TREE NEAR LAKE BIWA.]
The land of the Mikado is with reason often called the Land of Flowers,
for each month of the year has its special blossoms which the Japanese
admire, and which together form an unbroken garland for the brow of
Time. Particularly beautiful is the Japanese wistaria, which blooms in
May, soon after the departure of the cherry-blossoms. This lovely vine
is trained on trellises, and covers bridges, canopies, and arbors with
magnificent purple clusters, two, and even three feet long. Japanese
tea-houses find it extremely profitable to decorate their gardens thus,
as thousands are attracted thither, who, as a matter of course, drink tea
upon the premises. It is precisely of such exhibitions that this peculiar
nation is most fond. With one or two exceptions, they do not seem to care
for cultivated flowers, preferring flowering trees and vines, like the
wistaria, plum, and cherry. In all the gardens that we visited in Japan,
we never saw a flower-bed. In fact, Japanese gardens differ from our own
as completely as a jinrikisha differs from a tally-ho coach. They are all
essentially alike, whether they cover several acres or only a tiny court
behind the house. If possible, an artificial lake is formed; large, if
the space permits; if not, a little tank of water containing half-a-dozen
goldfish must suffice. Rocks are heaped up to take the place of cliffs.
[Illustration: FOREST SOLITUDE.]
[Illustration: JAPANESE LANDSCAPE GARDENING.]
A path of pebbles represents a river-bed. A tiny beach of smooth, white
sand is made along the shore. Islands are also manufactured, with
fantastic bridges; and here and there among the trees we see a quaint
display of garden lanterns, miniature pagodas, fountains, grottoes, and
occasional statues. But of smooth lawns and ornamental flowers, like our
own, we find in Japanese gardens not a trace. What seems to take their
place in the affections of the Japanese is the cultivation of dwarf
trees. These are among the marvels of Japan. At first, we could hardly
believe our eyes, when we saw maples, pines, and oaks, from sixty to
one hundred years old, possessing crooked limbs and gnarled and twisted
trunks, though they were scarcely more than two feet high, and had their
roots confined within the limits of a flower-pot! Just what the secret
is of limiting the growth of these old monarchs of the forest, while
yet preserving their vitality, we did not learn. It is, however, an art
of which the Japanese are passionately fond, and which an experience
of centuries has brought to perfection. These hardy dwarfs are often
looked upon as precious heirlooms, and are carefully watched and tended
by the family from generation to generation. What a strange notion
this,--of dwarfing landscapes to the limit of a courtyard, and stunting
noble trees till they appear like a forest looked at through the large
end of a telescope! Sometimes, however, the taste of the Japanese in
arboriculture goes to the other extreme, and large trees are chosen
as objects of regard. These are often trained and trimmed, till they
resemble mammoth fans, pagodas, or stately boats with curving prows and
lofty masts adorned with tiny sails. Although ingenious, this seemed to
us like trifling with nature,--a parody of the sublime,--a burlesque of
the beautiful.
[Illustration: A TREE TRIMMED TO REPRESENT A SHIP.]
[Illustration: A LOTUS BED.]
The glory of the month of August in Japan is the sacred lotus-flower,
with whose broad leaves the moats in Tokio are filled. Growing from
muddy, stagnant water, yet holding up to heaven its flowers always
fresh and pure, the lotus is regarded as the symbol of the religious
life,--aspiring from unfavorable conditions to a state of purity. The
Buddhist writings say: "Though thou be born in a hovel, if thou hast
virtue, thou art like the lotus growing from the slime." Accordingly the
lotus is, _par excellence_, the flower of the Buddhist faith, associated
with the mysteries of death and immortality. Bronze vases, filled with
lotus-flowers made of metal, stand on all Buddhist altars, and statues of
Buddha have usually, as an appropriate pedestal, a smooth lotus-leaf in
stone or bronze.
[Illustration: STATUES OF BUDDHA WITH LOTUS PEDESTALS.]
[Illustration: THE NATIONAL FLOWER.]
Early November brings still another source of pleasure to the Japanese
in the chrysanthemum. Opinions differ as to whether this, or the
cherry-blossom, should be regarded as the Japanese national flower. To
us it seemed that the chrysanthemum should have that proud distinction;
for it is used as the crest of the imperial family; and the Mikado's
birthday, the third of November, is usually made the opening day for all
chrysanthemum exhibitions.
[Illustration: AUTUMNAL FOLIAGE.]
In cultivating this flower, the Japanese have shown extraordinary skill.
Some of their bushes are said to bear as many as four hundred perfect
flowers at one time. Five or six varieties sometimes grow upon a single
plant, and there are claimed to be, in all, two hundred and sixty-nine in
the Mikado's empire. Moreover, since it blossoms longer than most other
flowers, it is associated with the idea of longevity. One Japanese river,
into whose limpid waters great showers of chrysanthemum petals fall, is
thought to insure to a good old age the lives of those who drink from its
invigorating flood.
[Illustration: THE MODERNIZING RAILWAY.]
But perhaps the most gorgeous of the natural displays, which in Japan
adorn with a continuous brilliancy the path of the revolving year, is its
autumnal foliage. Then, as the Japanese poets say, the maple-trees put
on their damask robes. This also is thought to be a floral exhibition,
for bright-colored leaves are looked upon by the Japanese as flowers. The
subjects of the Mikado have, like ourselves, that most delicious season
of the year when the warm breath of summer still retards the frost.
We call it Indian Summer: their name for it is Little Spring. It is a
pretty--almost a pathetic--thought, to connect thus the deep, strong,
passionate hues that mark the year's maturity with the faint blushes of
the cherry-blossoms, which betoken youth. The year has lived through
much since that pink blush adorned its cheeks. The autumnal colors may
be richer and more effective, but that first bloom of hope and innocence
will never come again.
[Illustration: A WRESTLING MATCH.]
During our stay in Tokio, we one day visited a wrestling match. The
scene of its occurrence, though in the heart of the city, resembled the
enclosure of a country circus. On pushing through the crowd, we saw, in
the centre, an elevated platform covered with sand. Above this was a
highly decorated canopy, supported by tall bamboo poles, and gathered
round it was the expectant populace. The second story of the structure
consisted of a gallery made of bamboo rods, which, tied together, formed
a floor resembling an enormous grid-iron. This gallery was divided into
little areas, which served as private boxes for the entertainment.
[Illustration: A WRESTLER.]
We climbed up into one of these by means of a ladder, and tea and cakes
were subsequently brought to us; but we could not have eaten a mouthful,
unless fed by our attendant, for we were fully occupied in clinging to
the bamboo poles, like canary birds to their perches. There presently
appeared upon the stage a human monster, who seemed to have a gorgeous
lambrequin tied about his waist. This giant was a great surprise to
us. The Japanese are usually small their women seem like girls; their
children look like dolls their dwellings have the appearance of magnified
bird-cages their vehicle of transportation is a baby-carriage. Their
wrestlers, however, are enormous. Such mountainous displays of fat and
muscle we had never seen. One after another, fifty such giants stood
fronting us for a moment with uplifted arms, while an official read their
names to the admiring spectators. Twenty-five wrestlers were then chosen
to contend on one side and as many on the other. The prize was to be
given to whichever side should win the greatest number of single combats.
[Illustration: LIKE MAMMOTH BULL-FROGS.]
A moment later, the "lambrequins" were laid aside. A couple of huge
wrestlers squatted on the sand, like mammoth bull-frogs ready for a jump.
They had already rubbed their hands in the sand to make them gritty and
tenacious. Beside them stood the umpire, holding in his hand a fan. With
this he gave his signal to the wrestlers, much as a musical director
leads his orchestra. His word is law, and he decides whether the start
is properly made and whether the rules have been observed. A few false
springs were made at first, and the great crowd became impatient. At
last, however, the wrestlers fairly caught each other, and began the
struggle. For several minutes they tugged and strained, until it seemed
that neither could possibly gain the advantage. Meantime the Japanese
grew more and more excited, for all these wrestlers are well-known, and
have their patrons and admirers. One whom we saw is famous for having
thrown three rivals in succession. This is, of course, a proof of great
endurance; for by the time the third encounter comes, the victor must
necessarily be much exhausted.
[Illustration: "THEY TUGGED AND STRAINED."]
In the first match, however, the wrestlers whom we watched had no easy
task; but, presently, one of them saw his opportunity, and caught his
enemy under the left leg. The other instantly reached over his shoulder
and clutched his opponent's belt. For a few seconds neither moved. Then,
with a fearful lurch, the giant who had gained the advantage lifted his
rival off the ground, and swung him headlong over his shoulder clear off
the platform to the sand below. We felt our bamboo perch in the gallery
shake when the body struck. The conqueror was, of course, hailed with
shouts of triumph, and in five minutes all was ready for another contest.
[Illustration: AN ACROBAT.]
At the conclusion of the spectacle, as we were making our exit through
the crowd, we stopped to watch some Japanese acrobats, one of whom danced
upon a swinging rope with more agility and skill than we had ever seen.
"By the way," said a friend at my side, "do you know that once in the
history of this country the Japanese throne itself was wrestled for? It
happened just a thousand years ago. The Mikado died and left two sons,
each of whom claimed to be the rightful heir. Instead of plunging the
nation into civil war, they submitted their rival claims to a couple
of famous wrestlers, each agreeing to abide by the result! Who shall
say that there are not worse methods than this old Japanese mode of
arbitration?"
[Illustration: VILLAGE OF NIKKO.]
One of the most renowned and sacred places of resort, alike for pilgrims
and for tourists in Japan, is Nikko. "Nikko!" How little that brief name
suggests to those whose feet have never trod its hallowed paths; but, oh,
how much to those whose recollections of it are a joy forever! The mere
approach to it is astonishing. It is a sacred road, over twenty miles in
length, and lined for the most part on both sides with the grand cedars
of Japan. These trees, called cryptomerias, frequently attain a height of
two hundred feet, and are probably unsurpassed in size save by the giants
of our own Yosemite.
[Illustration: THE SACRED BRIDGE, NIKKO.]
[Illustration: TIER UPON TIER AND TERRACE UPON TERRACE.]
[Illustration: CHARACTERISTIC ARCHITECTURE.]
It was late in the afternoon when we reached the terminus of this avenue.
Before us rose a densely wooded mountain, around which swept a wild,
impetuous stream. Spanning this foaming torrent is the sacred bridge of
Nikko, whose floor and sides are covered with beautiful red lacquer, as
smooth to the touch as polished mahogany, and which is ornamented here
and there with tips of brass. In ancient times, none but the Shoguns
ever stepped upon this bridge; none but the emperor may do so now. When
General Grant, however, was traveling in Japan, the Mikado paid him the
unusual compliment of ordering this bridge to be thrown open for his
passage. But, from a delicate appreciation of the people's feelings, the
General modestly declined the honor and took the regular, frequented path.
[Illustration: THE ROAD TO NIKKO.]
Leaving behind us this ornate but untrodden bridge, we began to ascend
the hill itself. From time to time we halted, astonished and bewildered.
Imagine a mountain, covered with thousands of the most magnificent
cedar-trees that the Creator ever caused to grow; then realize that upon
this mountain and among these trees there is what may be called a sacred
citadel, rising tier above tier, and terrace upon terrace, each covering
several acres. Toward each plateau ascends a flight of broad stone steps.
In front of each is placed the characteristic gateway of Japan,--the
sharp-cut, mysterious _torii_, hewn out of massive stone or made of
polished bronze. In one place there is a beautifully decorated fountain,
at which all pilgrims wash their hands and mouths before approaching more
closely to the temples of their gods.
[Illustration: THE PILGRIMS' FOUNTAIN, NIKKO.]
[Illustration: ON ONE OF THE TERRACES.]
Ascending one of the staircases of stone, we stood in an extensive area,
where structures met our gaze so unlike all that we had elsewhere seen
that we were fain to believe our senses were deceiving us, and that it
was all an illusion,--a cunning trick for stage effect, which, when the
play was over, would completely vanish. Along the terraces, like jewels
darkened by the forest gloom, were belfries which appeared encased with
precious stones; fountains adorned with ornaments of gilded bronze;
picturesque temples bright with every color of the rainbow; lacquered
pagodas, rivaling the trees in height; and huge bronze bells, whose
solemn tones, in rhythmic waves of sound, roll on in grand reverberations
through these sacred avenues. But how powerless is language to portray a
place like this! Words impotently creep before the grand impressiveness
of Nikko, as insects crawl beneath its cryptomerias.
[Illustration: A GATEWAY AT NIKKO.]
[Illustration: A QUIET CORNER.]
[Illustration: PRIESTLY VESTMENTS.]
[Illustration: A PROCESSION AT NIKKO.]
[Illustration: AMONG THE SHRINES.]
As we advanced still farther through these wonderful enclosures, it
seemed like walking through a village whose buildings still remained in
symmetry and beauty, yet whose inhabitants had disappeared. The silence
of these courts was most impressive. Apparently, they have no guardians.
Only the moss-grown lanterns stand about each shrine, like sentinels
transformed to stone. Astonished and perplexed, we asked the meaning of
these structures, and learned that some are treasure-houses, where are
preserved the personal relics of the Shoguns and many of the gorgeous
robes, embroidered banners, and superb insignia which still, on festal
days, are borne in solemn state along these paths beneath a boundless
canopy of shade, just as they have been borne for centuries. For the old
trees of Nikko have looked down for nearly a thousand years on lines of
richly decorated priests and pilgrims moving in solemn pageantry along
these shadowy pathways consecrated to the gods. The individuals may come
and go, but the processions never fail--much as the bright-tinted leaves
fall here in autumn, to return no more, while the old trees live on.
[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO TEMPLE, NIKKO.]
[Illustration: A TARGET FOR MASTICATED PRAYERS.]
At last we stood before one of the many sacred gates which lead to
Nikko's shrines or sepulchres. Each displays against the foliage beyond
a mass of variegated color. In every case the roof curves slightly
upward at the base, and has a covering of copper, marked with ornaments
in brass. To the right and left of all such passageways are massive
wooden columns, lacquered red, and in the alcoves thus constructed at
this gate we saw, to our amazement, two grotesque statues of colossal
size. They seemed a startling union of Hercules and Mephistopheles. Yet
these repulsive figures represent gods, whose special duty is to scare
demons from the temple gates. We have no certain information about the
nervous temperament of demons, but one could well believe that these
unearthly shapes, with blood-red bodies, gaping mouths, and bulging eyes,
would throw most children into convulsions. Upon their forms and faces
are visible small marks resembling scars. These are in reality dried
paper-balls, which worshipers have first chewed into a pulp, and then
hurled at the statues, though not by any means in contempt. The pilgrim,
in the first place, writes his petition on a slip of paper; this he rolls
into a wad, which he deposits in his mouth; and, finally, when it is
softened by saliva, he throws it at the god. If it adheres to the idol's
face, the omen is propitious. If it sticks to any part of the body, there
is still some hope; but if it falls off on the ground, a favorable answer
is impossible. This custom is peculiar to Japan. One sees, of course,
numberless strange rites connected with religion in traveling about the
world, but Japan is the only land I have ever visited where deities serve
as targets for masticated prayers!
[Illustration: A GUARDIAN OF THE GATE.]
When, turning from these sculptured monsters, one looks with admiration
on the exquisitely carved and beautifully furnished temples of this
sacred citadel, one naturally exclaims: "How is it possible that the
same race, which has produced such beautiful, artistic works as these,
should also have created, and should still retain, such hideous, uncouth
statues as we have just beheld?" But one asks many such questions
in traveling through Japan. No race on earth is so astonishingly
contradictory and so full of puzzling surprises as the Japanese. "The
longer I live here," a resident of Tokio once said to me, "the less
I understand these people. A superficial knowledge of them is easily
acquired; but there is always at the last a mental gulf between the
Orient and the Occident, across which I perceive that their past is not
our past, and that their ideas on art, religion, government, the finite
and the infinite, are radically different from our own."
[Illustration: THE BRONZE PORTAL.]
[Illustration: THE PATH TO THE SHOGUN'S GRAVE.]
Leaving at length the shrines of Nikko, we climbed still farther up the
sacred mountain, by one of its great staircases of stone. It led us to a
place of which the temples are but antechambers and accessories. For this
magnificent forest is a vast sepulchral grove, in which are buried some
of the greatest statesmen of Japan.
[Illustration: NATURE'S CATHEDRAL.]
[Illustration: THE SHOGUN'S TOMB.]
[Illustration: NEAR ENOSHIMA.]
[Illustration: NEGLECTED SHRINES.]
It has been stated that previous to 1869, Japan, for seven hundred
years, had always had two sovereigns at the same time: one the ideal
and secluded monarch,--the Mikado; the other, the actual regent, known
as the Shogun. Bearing this fact in mind we reached the summit of the
staircase. Before us was a portal of black bronze, inscribed with
Sanskrit characters in gold. Behind it was a small enclosure, surrounded
by a massive wall. Only two dragon-headed dogs were stationed here as
guardians; but no one dares set foot within the sacred area,--none save
a priest may pass beneath the low-browed arch. But, standing on the
steps, we obtained at least a glimpse of what is here enshrined. It is
the tomb of Ieyasu, the most powerful military ruler of Japan. It is a
simple cylinder of bronze, six feet in height, the roof of which curves
upward like a miniature pagoda. In front, upon a pedestal of stone, are
the Japanese emblems of immortality. Here, then, the mightiest of the
Shoguns rests, in death exalted, as in life, above his subjects. It is an
awe-inspiring burial-place. Above him wave, like funeral plumes, majestic
cryptomerias; beneath him are the temples where his spirit is adored;
while, close beside him, in a deep ravine, the mountain torrent moans an
endless requiem.
[Illustration: A MOUNTAIN TORRENT.]
Yet it was when we left the Shogun's grave, and came down through the
forest by that foaming stream, that we best appreciated the grandeur
and sublimity of Nikko. Nowhere in the world, not even on the Alhambra
hill, have I been so profoundly moved and thoroughly enchanted by a walk
as by the one which winds about the sacred mountain of Japan. For miles
above and around us stretched a cryptomerian cathedral, whose columns
were the colossal trees, whose stained glass was the autumnal foliage,
whose altar-covering was the green velvet of the forest, whose surpliced
choristers were the white-robed and sweet-voiced rivers and cascades. One
may well liken it to a cathedral, for its shadowy expanse is tenanted
by countless rustic monuments and altars. Most of them looked abandoned
both by gods and men; yet, here and there, we saw that worshipers had not
forgotten them entirely, since fragrant flowers lay upon the thresholds
of the few.
[Illustration: A CRYPTOMERIAN CATHEDRAL.]
[Illustration: THE SACRED GROVE.]
[Illustration: THE LAST STRONGHOLD OF ROMANTIC PAGANISM.]
Lingering among these moss-grown emblems of an ancient faith, and
treading pathways deepened by the feet of millions long since turned to
dust, I shall never forget the impression made upon me. I felt that I was
assisting at the last hours of a great religion. "Young Japan" has no
more use for these ancestral shrines. It guards them merely as historic
souvenirs: its faith in them is gone. In one sense, I was glad of this;
but in another, I experienced here a feeling of regret. It seemed to me
that this was earth's last strong-hold of romantic paganism, and that its
life was ebbing fast.
Its sylvan gods, its nymphs and dryads of the hills, had left these
immemorial shrines; and I could easily fancy that the drops of rain which
fell that day from these old trees were in reality Nature's tears of
grief that Pan was dying. Another generation, and he will be dead.
[Illustration]
* * * * *
JAPAN
II
[Illustration: WRITING A LETTER.]
Japan
LECTURE II
[Illustration: PRINCE ITO.]