the beginning of the “Opening of the University” decorations. The
College attains the dignity of a University on September 11. They are
still actively building new departments and have unlimited ground for
more; the whole temple of learning is most pleasing, extensive, and
picturesque.
=September 7.=--I left early for Shiroi, a small village which is
largely pure Aino. A contingent saw me off at Sapporo, and I was
extremely sorry to say farewell to some of them; but to be alone once
more is a real pleasure. At Shiroi I saw all there was to be seen; the
little straw homes and boats (it is a fishing village) of the Aino are
very different from those of the Japanese.
Some of the Aino are extremely picturesque and dignified-looking, their
long, thick, black hair standing out all round their patriarchal heads.
They are not all small; most of the men I have seen are taller than
I am, and very thick-set. The women are terribly disfigured by green
tattoo marks on their faces, the most essential of which is the one
across the lips, which has the appearance of a moustache. One or two
of the young women who have not been tattooed are very handsome. They
are a fundamentally different race from the Japanese, and there is very
good evidence that they are actually descended from the stone-tool
using people, who once covered all the Japanese islands.
I came on to Noboribetsu to spend the night. It is about ten miles from
the station, and to it runs the first road I have yet seen outside a
village. Such a road! It is a marvel to me how we ever got out of its
swamps and ruts, and how the wheels could all be at such extremely
various and varying angles without coming off. Half-way there it got
dark, and the rest of the journey we went tearing down little slopes
or crashing and jolting over the ruts, when there was only a margin of
about a foot between us and a ravine. Yet nothing happened.
=September 8.=--I spent last night in the crater of a semi-active
volcano! Yet it was not so thrilling as it sounds. The crater is
nearly a mile across, and much of it is just like a deep-wooded
circular valley, in which are a little hotel and one or two houses.
Only a couple of hundred yards or so away from the hotel the active
part remains, however, and there are vents and small cones, bubbling
streams of boiling water, and piles of sulphur in any quantity. Some of
the boiling basins are black and solid-looking, and some frisky with
little geysers--most of them tame enough for close acquaintance, but a
few dangerous and impossible to approach. As I look out on the hotel
garden the steam rises in thick clouds from the boiling stream bubbling
through it, which is utilised for baths. The Guide-book naively says:
“The only drawback to a visit to the springs of Noboribetsu is the
chance of meeting naked bathers.” I would say “_certainty_ of meeting.”
But I got off quite alone and went up through the woods, following a
track of course--it would be mad to leave it here--and saw three snakes
in an hour, one nearly 4 feet long hardly moved from the path. I met
an Aino, tattooing and all, and we exchanged a few courtesies in bad
Japanese. Aino itself is a curiously hard language, nearly all _k’s_.
=September 9.=--A wet drizzling day, which blurs all the landscape, so
that trees, sky, rain and sulphurous clouds all merge into one another.
The air is heavy, and full of the odour of rotten eggs. I am the only
European here, and am living absolutely _à la Japonaise_. The place is
entirely untouched by our civilisation, and my room is a gem of native
art: the delicate wooden trellis-work and bands of black lacquer on
the paper doors and windows, the beautiful heavy metal fire-pot and
embossed kettle are _real_ Japanese of good quality. I sincerely wish I
could bring such a room to London, it would delight those followers of
the _art nouveau_ who have retained some of their original conceptions
of the beauty of simplicity. I was rather glad to leave the hot
choking fumes, however, and reach Mororan at night. It is a pretty
little port, in a beautiful bay forming a splendid natural harbour. I
went on board at 9 o’clock at night.
=September 10.=--We should have arrived at 10 or 11 o’clock this
morning at Aomori (on the main island), but there was a storm, the
tail of one of the typhoons which are abounding this year, and we did
not get in until after 4 in the afternoon. While waiting three hours
to catch the train I saw a little of the town, and spent some time
soothing a distracted missionary and his wife, recently from America,
and not yet accustomed to waiting, and trusting large sums of money
to Japanese porters with no guarantee that they would get the tickets
they wanted. Japan takes some learning, and a highly-strung American
accustomed to New York bustle must find it a peculiarly hard lesson.
=September 11.=--I arrived at Matsushima station at 5 o’clock this
morning and took a _kuruma_[2] to the place itself, on the way stopping
to climb a small hill which overlooks the wonderful archipelago--one of
the three greatest sights of Japan. As I sat there the sun rose, and
lit up the gleaming water and the thousand pine-decked islands, whose
shapes are so fantastic that one can only imagine them to be the work
of the drollest of trolls, who with his drollery had a soul that was
rare enough to combine nobility of beauty with fantastic form.
[2] The native name for the mail-cart-like hand-carriage I called a
rickshaw at first. It is only in Yokohama and such Europeanised places
that the word rickshaw is understood.
The hamlet of Matsushima is built among similar rocks on the dry land,
which has certainly risen from the sea. This little place, utterly
unspoiled by European influence (I did not even see a European hat), is
the Japan I have dreamed of, and had begun to fear I should not find.
I cannot describe it here; if anything can move me to write literature
some day, it may be that place as I saw it at sunrise.
I sailed among the fairy islands in a dreamland boat--which went so
slowly and so smoothly that I thought it did not move--to Shiogama, in
which I saw no romance, and took a _kuruma_ for 5 miles off the line
of beaten roads, and the railway to a tiny hamlet by the sea. Here I
put up in an inn built on a little rocky peninsula, which is just big
enough to hold it and a few pine trees. When the tide is in we cannot
get into the front door! The room which I have opens on two sides to
the sea, the front is shut off only by folding-doors from another with
three sides open to the sea, so that at will I could have my three
walls removed and the sea view all round. A more ideally beautiful
situation it would be quite impossible to find: on either side stretch
blue bays with sandy shores, and rocky islets with twisted pines
growing on them in all manner of ways, and beyond lie line after line
of blue hills, which in the distance merge into the blue sky.
=September 12.=--To-day was spent in finding out paths to tiny fishing
hamlets along the coast, and seeing ever new and delightful rocks--one
is pierced by a big hole, 30 feet or so above sea-level.
At night there was a great sensation in the bay, as many big
fishing-boats came in. On the shore they lit huge blazing fires, the
men and women singing all the time, and every now and then one of them
seizing a burning brand and rushing into the water with it up to their
necks, and even swimming out with it to the boats. The new moon rose
clear and sparkling above the bay. It seemed wicked to go to bed. I am
the only visitor of any kind staying in this hotel.
=September 13.=--My hours are primitive: rising with the sun about 6,
and breakfasting; eating again at 12 and 6, and going to bed after
seeing the sunset shadows deepen into night and the stars rise over the
sea--_i.e._ about 7 o’clock.
I walked into Shiogama for some shopping, but was much noticed by the
country people, for I wore a white blouse, a skirt, and hat. Here the
women all wear long blue trousers and short tunic-like kimonos, and I
found they took no notice of me at all when I wore what I wore in the
mountains, namely, short close knickers and coat to match.
=September 15.=--Alas, it is the last day of my short holiday. The
weather has been perfect these four days.
=September 16.=--A long and tedious day travelling, beginning at 5 in
the morning. I did not reach my Tokio home till 11 at night, and then
found that they had given me up and all gone to bed. On the way I had
to change and wait two hours at Sendai, which I therefore explored
a little. It is noted for ornaments and trays made of fossil wood
so-called, which is found in quantity in a mountain near by. It seems
to be gymnospermic, however, and to correspond more to our “bog-oak”
than to an actual fossil, so I lost scientific interest in it, but
liked it well enough as a curiosity to buy some specimens.
=September 17.=--After a month’s absence my correspondence has
accumulated, and to-day has been spent largely in reading and writing
letters. Also, this is just the last day or so for the swimming out
of the spermatozoids of _Ginkgo_, and I spent a few delightful hours
in the Laboratory watching their infusorian-like movements and the
quick vibrations of their spiral crowns of cilia. Fancy cutting up
dozens of juicy Ginkgo seeds! I lunched in the Institute with the
botanical staff, who have a wonderfully detailed knowledge of all my
doings, likes and dislikes--from the newspaper! Apparently one or
other of my retinue has acted as special correspondent for the papers.
Mercifully, it is all published in Japanese characters, so that the
European residents can’t read it, or I should not dare to present my
introductions.
=September 18.=--A quiet day at the Institute, trying to overtake my
writing arrears. The last forty-eight hours it has rained incessantly,
and the roads are an interesting study. They may be divided into
three main classes, viz. those which are well made, and which have
been washed spotlessly clean by the rain--these are very few and far
between; those which have retained the water, and mixed it with their
own soil until there is a swamp of thick, boggy, squashy mud from 2 to
10 inches deep--these predominate; and those on which water alone is to
be seen, varying from 2 inches to 3 feet in depth. Through a quarter of
a mile of the latter I had to come, in a _kuruma_ of course, but the
man was up to his hips in water, and I was glad indeed that my house is
on the top of a hill as I saw the floods rushing through the houses.
=September 22.=--The roads of Tokio are a never-ending source of
delight when their muddiness does not force itself home. A hundred
times in a walk, even in the heart of the city, one comes upon a bend
of the road where groves of bamboo or pine trees are seen, as though
one were far away in the country; or a rivulet will cross the lane (so
many of the city roads are like nothing but our country lanes), and
its mossy banks hanging with ferns are luxuriant, as only our Lake
District streams are luxuriant, in their glorious greenery of delicate
fronds. Or perhaps a bend of the road will take one away from a little
village of shops into a narrow avenue of straight-growing cryptomerias,
leading to a tiny shrine or temple with its garden and moss-grown
stepping-stones. Along the line of the electric city railway we all
walk freely, and to-day I found corners of woodland and scraps of
meadow along its course--little forgotten scraps of land where small
bamboos and feathery grasses, and sweet white and blue flowers grow in
brilliant, fresh, dustless perfection. A hundred times a day I ask
myself, “Can this be a city?” While the main streets are “streety”
enough, the charming spots are always only a few yards away from them.
I cannot understand how it is that land and rents are so outrageously
dear, dearer even than in the parts of London just outside the city.
Here so much seems to be left to run wild, or to form a garden or field
round a tiny house--wasted commercially--but what a rich delight to
those who live in this sweet garden city!
Early this morning I had a real Japanese experience. I was wakened at
about 5 o’clock by a tremendous sensation among my walls and floor, as
though they were all striving to part company. I at once thought of a
typhoon, and as my floor was swaying like the ocean waves, I started
to rush downstairs, my room being the only one on the second story.
Then I rushed back, thinking of all the awful tales of robberies I
had heard, and seeing a figure approaching me, I accosted it angrily
and demanded it to give an account of itself and be off! It was some
time before I recognised myself in the glass! All the time the floor
was swaying violently in what I fancied was a fearful wind--when it
suddenly stopped, and I lay down feeling very sea-sick. Then, and then
only, did I remember that I was in a land of earthquakes, and had just
experienced my first. I heard later in the day that it had been a
moderately bad one.
=September 23.=--A rather broken day with papers at the Institute. I
have not yet worked off my Hokkaido debt of letters and presents.
There was a local festival in the temple near my house, and the houses
were gay with scarlet and white lanterns, and branches of scarlet and
white paper flowers.
=September 24.=--A universal holiday, and the Institute is shut. The
day was filled with sight-seeing, temples and gardens. Of the several I
saw, two in the heart of the city were in such striking contrast as to
be worth an attempt at description.
To the one, the approach was lined by rows of little open shops, whose
trivial gaudy wares were pressed upon the throngs of passers-by. In the
open court of the temple were many stalls and small tea-houses, and
hundreds of pigeons fluttering about to be fed. One could buy one sen’s
worth (about a farthing’s worth) of peas and rice from the numerous
little stalls kept by ancient women. The birds did not appreciate my
offering properly, as it was a festival, and they were already overfed,
and so contented themselves with pruning their feathers perched on
the great eaves of the temple, or on the nose or curly tail of some
of the many great dragons. In the vestibule of the temple (this is
hardly the right word, but I know no other to express it) hundreds of
people clattered in their wooden clogs, and chattered loudly, gazing
through the wire-netting into the inner portion, where the priests and
readers in gorgeous array and pomp were carrying on a service. The
whole effect was not unlike that of a good Roman Catholic Church, but
more glittering and richer. As I was watching, a large part of the
ceremony seemed to consist in turning over the folds of manuscript
very rapidly, giving the effect of endless streams of writing. Into
a money-box, as large as a small swimming bath, the devotees threw
their small coins, often over the heads of the groups in front of
them. Glitter, bustle, noise, and crowds characterise this temple. The
other I found by chance in one of the dear little side roads I love.
It stood grey and solemn in the midst of its green garden, its great
bell in a little house beside it, and its old stone figures and great
lotus of copper. Twisted pines and moss-grown paths around it, and
behind a silent grove of pine and bamboo. Complete silence in the heart
of the city, and though I remained in the garden some time no person
came to disturb its peace. Greyness and greenness--and one brilliant
golden butterfly dancing above the great green copper lotus, one shrub
with scarlet flowers flung against a grey sky--and in the heart of it
all the silence of Buddha, whose heart does not seem to beat as he
contemplates the universe.
=September 25.=--A tiring day, but little to show for it. Tokio
certainly makes one very sleepy, and also demands the expenditure of
much time to get a small result.
=September 26.=--Official visit to the Director of the Survey--time
spent getting there and back, three hours--length of visit, ten
minutes. The rest of the day at the Institute.
=September 27.=--An amusing day spent at the sale by auction of all
the household effects of the Spanish consul. It appears that these
sales are recognised social functions, and all the good Society was
represented, from the Embassy and some Baronesses downwards. I managed
to get two feather pillows for twice what they cost in England, but
half what they cost here in the shops; and so hope to rest more
peacefully at night now. There is such a frightful duty on all foreign
goods that every one here buys what they can at these sales; as they
are all the goods of friends, which have sometimes been the round of
several distinguished families, there is no feeling against obtaining
them. It only wanted tea and a little music to be like an “At Home.”
=September 28.=--A quiet day at the Institute. The gardens surrounding
it are largely situated on elevated ground, so that one looks down on
tree tops and out over an expanse of clear blue sky and lovely light
clouds. Now the temperature is like our best days in June, and the
actual sunshine still hotter and brighter.
=September 29.=--Sunday--so we went to visit temples. This time to
a tiny lonely one in the country to the north of the town. Though
it was less than 10 miles out of Tokio, everything was fresh and
beautiful, and quite untainted with the horrible suburban effect of our
environs--it was real country, though not at all solitary. Between the
green fields, where the crops looked as fresh and vigorously sprouting
and green as with us in the late spring, were quiet lanes and narrow
roads overhung by the swaying feathery shafts of the tall bamboos.
Every quarter of a mile or so in all directions were little woods of
bamboo and pine or cryptomeria, in the midst of which generally one
or two small houses nestled, their thick thatches overgrown by the
blue-flowered relative of tradescantia, which is here so pretty and so
plentiful. Surrounded by its little grove of cryptomerias the wooden
temple stands apart from all houses--a small closed building, hung with
gaudy pictures from the devotees whose prayers have been answered.
Leading to it is an imposing flight of well-kept stone steps, but as
there is no gate, and a dozen paths through the wood lead to the temple
by easier grades, they are more for show than use. A big stone trough
stands filled with water for the worshippers to wash their hands before
folding them in prayer--but I saw no worshippers, and I stayed there in
the quiet for a number of hours.
A fraction of a mile away was the small ill-kept cemetery, with little
grey headstones and forlorn wooden laths with the names of the dead,
but no visible graves.
The tall _tsuzuki_ reed, with its clusters of feathery fruits standing
out against the sky at evening, and the stars twinkling through the
beautiful bamboo and the trees of sweet chestnuts, all seemed far too
fresh and unsullied to be so near a city. The Japanese can certainly
populate a place without defacing it. The absence of all railings and
notice boards is also very soothing.
=September 30.=--A cut-up day at the Institute. Dr. _Y----_, one
of the geologists from the Survey, visited me and we spent some
time discussing the beds of Hokkaido. This country is an extremely
difficult one for us all, so little is yet quite reliably finished, as
exposures are so scarce.
=October 1.=--A long morning down at the Survey Offices with the
Director and Dr. _Y----_, chiefly planning for the next venture, which
is to be in the directly opposite direction from the last, and promises
difficulties not a few. This time I _will not_ go with a huge escort
like the last.
On the way back to the Institute I looked into the biggest drapers
while the sale of the year was on--all Japanese of course, and very
amusing.
=October 6.=--A miserable, wet day, spent with small profit at the
Institute preparing for another long expedition. The least heavy
rain seems to give rise to floods at some place or other, and again
the roads were quite impassable except for the coolies, who drew my
_kuruma_ through.
=October 8.=--I arrived at last at Okayama at about 3 in the afternoon,
very dirty after the night in the train, and tired for want of food--to
be met by a party of Japanese, most kind and welcoming, who took me
to a charming hotel and kept me sitting and talking for two hours
without a chance of even washing! They also took me to see the renowned
Koraku-en garden, and it was half-past six before I could get a bath,
and while I was still dressing the _kuruma_ came to take me off to a
meeting of Naturalists, which took the form of a dinner in my honour.
The gardens of Koraku-en were certainly very pretty, but less so than
one would expect from the descriptions of them one reads. They were
once the private property of the owner of the castle at the foot of
which they lie. In them are vistas and views cleverly constructed,
and many pretty little rocky islands and bridges. There are also some
sacred cranes which live in separate apartments in a house of their
own, and which take the air and sun themselves in the best part of the
day. What pleased me far more than these much-praised gardens were the
little courts and gardens of the hotel in which I was staying. From
my room I could look down from the verandah on to two little gardens,
with dwarf trees and green paths and grey stepping-stones leading to
imaginary distances.
On my way out, for the house was large and rambling, with several ways,
I could pass a square garden but 10 feet or so big, in which was a
little temple, with lanterns and lions and gateway all complete. Here
every evening the lanterns were lit, and incense sticks glowed, sending
a sweet scent along the corridors. It was the smallest temple I have
seen, and also one of the prettiest additions to a house.
The dinner with the Naturalists was a somewhat trying affair. There was
but one lady and she was obviously asked for my sake, and was put next
me at the table. The President and I sat opposite to each other in the
middle of the long table, and kept something of a conversation going,
though I had to furnish all the subjects, which was a little difficult
after more than twenty-four hours’ travelling and no rest after my
arrival. The others were mute, except when I turned to ask a definite
question, or said something which the President repeated to them, and
suggested discussion. All could speak English nominally. The dinner was
in foreign style and included four meat courses, and I found few of
those present knew which things to eat with which table implement, so
I was repaid in kind for the entertainment I must have afforded while
learning to use chop-sticks. Fortunately it was possible to leave very
early, and I welcomed a good night in my charming Japanese room.
=October 9.=--I was up at 6 to start to the real place for work and
was seen off by a deputation, and shaken for some time in the train of
a local branch line. After that came the truly awful business of the
day--four hours in a _kuruma_!
The _kuruma_ is a kind of mail-cart on two wheels (country specimens
have no springs), and is drawn by a man over stony roads. The works
of the thing jolt, jingle, and clang till one’s head splits and one’s
bones feel sore.
The road lay along a very beautiful valley, however, cut out of the
steep rocky sides running along the broad and beautiful river of
Takahashi. I entirely escaped the Guide-book--not so easy a job either,
as it is written by Chamberlain, who knows the country better than
most Japanese, and who has numerous collaborators who seem to inform
him of minute details, even of very out-of-the-way places. At the end
of the journey I found a much better inn than I expected under the
circumstances.