THE SPELL OF JAPAN
THE SPELL SERIES
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_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_
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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
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THE PAGE COMPANY
53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass.
[Illustration: _Court and Gate, Shiba Park, Tokyo_
(_See page 60_)]
_The_ SPELL _of_
JAPAN
_BY_
_Isabel Anderson_
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATED
Boston
THE PAGE COMPANY
MDCCCCXIV
_Copyright, 1914._
BY THE PAGE COMPANY
_All rights reserved_
First Impression, July, 1914
THE COLONIAL PRESS
C. H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.
TO THE MEMORY OF
_MY FATHER_
WHO WAS THE FIRST TO TELL ME OF
THE LAND OF THE MILLION SWORDS
JAPANESE PRONUNCIATION
In general, single vowels have the same sounds as in the Continental
pronunciation of Latin. The diphthong _ai_ is like _i_ in fight; _ei_
like _a_ in gate; _au_ like _ou_ in bough. The consonants are sounded as
in English, except that _g_ is always hard and in the middle of a word
is like a prolonged and very nasal _ng_; and _z_ before _u_ is the
equivalent of _dz_. When consonants are doubled, both are distinctly
enunciated. Syllables are pronounced lightly and with nearly uniform
accent as in French, but vowels marked long are carefully lengthened.
INTRODUCTION
The term "Spell," as applied to a series of books treating of various
countries seems instantly to conjure up before the vision the most
romantic and attractive episodes in their history, the most picturesque
and fascinating aspects of their geography, the most alluring qualities
of their inhabitants. Under this ample and elastic term, Romance has
been able to weave its iridescent glamour, if possible enhancing the
charm of the reality, like a delicate veil over a mountain view.
The fortunate authors have been enabled to take journeys as it were on
Solomon's magic carpet, the aerial vehicle of the Imagination, and to
depict ideal conditions based nevertheless on solid foundations of
Truth.
Occasionally Fate seems to idealize reality: a novelist could hardly
conceive a more fortunate setting for a romance than the Court of an
Oriental Potentate, or find a happier source of vivid experiences than
would spring from the position of an open-eyed American woman suddenly
transported to such a scene as the wife of an ambassador sent to some
exotic Empire. Fiction in such a case is transcended by actual fact and
there would be no need of inventing opportunities of inner observation:
every door would stand open and the country would be revealed in its
highest perfection.
In this respect Mrs. Anderson's "Spell of Japan" differs perhaps from
most of its predecessors in the series of "Spell" books. Her husband was
appointed by President Taft in 1912 Ambassador Extraordinary and
Minister Plenipotentiary to the Court of His Majesty the Mikado, and the
whole time of their sojourn in Dai Nippon was filled with experiences
seldom vouchsafed to foreigners. They witnessed functions to which they
were admitted only because of their official position; they were granted
every facility for seeing aspects of Japanese life which ordinary
visitors would have infallibly missed, and they became acquainted with
the very flower of Japanese civilization.
Mrs. Anderson took copious notes and she has utilized these in the
preparation of her most delightful and illuminating volume. It is so
naturally and unostentatiously written that one almost forgets to be
amazed at the intimacy of the pictures: one enters the Imperial palaces
and attends Court functions as simply as one would go to an afternoon
tea at home. Then perhaps suddenly comes the realization of what a
privilege it is to be admitted to see through her keenly observant eyes
the penetralia so jealously hidden from the general throng.
The book therefore is rightly entitled to carry the title of Spell, for
it shows Japan at its very best; it makes one understand the glamour
which the courteous manners, the elaborate customs, the harmonious
costumes, the perfect Art everywhere displayed, cast over all those who
have been fortunate enough to visit the Land of the Rising Sun.
Mrs. Anderson's book cannot fail to serve as a new and important tie of
friendship between the United States and Japan; it will be hailed as an
eminently fair presentation of Japanese ideals, and will from its
authoritative accuracy and its admirable spirit give great pleasure to
all in the best circles of the Empire and serve to do away with many
prejudices which ignorance has disseminated among our own people. It
could not have breathed a more conciliatory and friendly spirit, and its
simple and engaging style cannot fail to win golden opinions for its
talented author.
NATHAN HASKELL DOLE.
FOREWORD
My recent residence in Japan, when we lived in the Embassy in Tokyo, has
served only to enhance the Spell which that country has cast over me
since I first crossed the Pacific, sixteen years ago. What beautiful
summer evenings were those on the Southern Seas, when the moon was full!
As we sat in the bow of the _Doric_ and sang to the music of the
_eukalalie_,[1] we gazed into the water glistening with phosphorescence.
The mornings found us there again, listening to the swish of the waves
as the boat slowly rose and sank on the long Pacific swell. We watched
the flying-fish, and the schools of leaping porpoise, and the tropical
birds with their long white tail-feathers sailing in the blue sky.
[1] Hawaiian guitar.
The excitements and interests on the steamer were many and varied. On
Sunday, while Christians were singing hymns, Chinese and Jews gambled at
fan-tan, Filipinos and Japanese wrestled on the steerage deck, and
Chinese and Hindus knifed each other. Among the passengers were
missionaries with large families, and wayward sons shipped to the East;
in a single group we saw an opium smuggler, a card sharp, and the
ever-present commercial traveller.
As we neared Japan a huge turtle floating on the smooth surface of the
water appeared to have come out expressly to greet us and wish us long
life and happiness, for that is what he represents to the Japanese. We
are grateful to him, for it is true he was a good omen; we were on our
honeymoon, and Japan cast its Spell about us then and still holds us in
its toils, for we have returned again, and yet again.
As Japan consists of five hundred and eighteen islands it is often
called the Island Empire. In the days of mythology and legend it was
named The Country in the Midst of the Luxuriant Reed Plains; later it
was The Mountain Portal, while during the Middle Ages the Chinese called
it The Source of the Sun, or The Land of the Rising Sun--Hinomoto.
Finally it became Nippon Dai Nippon--Great Japan. But it has still other
names, such as The Land of the Gods, The Land of a Million Swords, The
Land of the Cherry Blossoms, and The Land Between Heaven and Earth.
Notwithstanding the changes of recent years, the picturesque and
enchanting Old Japan that men of letters have written about so
delightfully still survives in many ways. The enormous bronze Buddha at
Kamakura sits calmly looking down upon us, as always. At Nikko the
avenue of cryptomerias is still wonderfully fine, while the huge blocks
of stone in the long flights of steps on the wooded mountain-side bring
up a vision of the armies of coolies who placed them there to remain
through the ages. The bronze tombs are the same, only more beautifully
coloured with age, and the wood-carving and lacquers of the glorious old
temples have been kept bright and new by faithful, loving hands. The
Inland Sea is just as mysterious and ever-changing, while Fuji is
worshipped to-day as it has been since the beginning of all time.
So much has been written--and well written--about Old Japan, that in the
language of the Japanese, "The Rustic and Stupid Wife is loth to give to
the Honourable and Wise Reader these few poor notes." It is not so much
of Old Japan that I will write, however, but rather of New Japan, of
social and diplomatic life, of present-day education, of motor trips,
and politics, of bear-hunting among the Ainus, and of cruising in the
Inland Sea.
Notwithstanding our four visits to Japan, on all of which we kept
journals, I wish to say that I have begged, borrowed or stolen material
from travelling companions and others; I desire to acknowledge my
special indebtedness to Mr. C. J. Arnell, of the American Embassy, who
kindly contributed the chapter on bear-hunting, to Major Gosman, also of
the Embassy Staff, who gave me notes on motoring, to Mrs. Lucie
Chandler, who allowed me to use her conclusions in regard to education
and missionaries, to Miss Hyde for the loan of her charming wood-cut,
and to the _Japan Magazine_. Much of my information, besides, came from
my husband's journals. I wish also to thank Miss C. Gilman and Miss K.
Crosby, who have done so much to help me in getting this book together.
I. A.
WELD, BROOKLINE,
March First,
1914.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
INTRODUCTION vii
FOREWORD xi
I. OUTLYING JAPAN 1
II. HISTORIC KYOTO 23
III. FIRST DAYS AT THE EMBASSY 40
IV. COURT FUNCTIONS 64
V. LIFE IN TOKYO 90
VI. THE GROWING EMPIRE 112
VII. A YEAR OF FESTIVALS 136
VIII. CULTS AND SHRINES 164
IX. NEW LIGHT FOR OLD 188
X. PROSE, POETRY AND PLAYS 214
XI. AMUSEMENTS 245
XII. BEAR-HUNTING AMONG THE AINUS 274
XIII. MOTORING AND CRUISING 293
XIV. FLOWERS, INDOORS AND OUT 326
XV. THE ARTIST'S JAPAN 350
XVI. SAYONARA DAI NIPPON 375
BIBLIOGRAPHY 383
INDEX 385
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
COURT AND GATE, SHIBA PARK, TOKYO (_in full colour_)
(_see page 60_) _Frontispiece_
MAP OF JAPAN _facing_ 1
A KOREAN COUPLE 8
A VIEW OF SEOUL 10
THE AMERICAN CONSULATE, SEOUL 16
"WE PASSED ... STRANGELY LADEN HORSES" 23
THE TOMB OF MUTSUHITO 25
THE FUNERAL CORTEGE 27
HIDEYOSHI'S HOUSE AND GARDEN 29
THE AMERICAN EMBASSY, TOKYO 42
JAPANESE SERVANTS 46
"SECRET"--WOOD-CUT BY MISS HYDE 51
SHIBA PARK, TOKYO 60
THE COACHMAN AND THE _BETTO_ OF THE AMERICAN
EMBASSY 65
THE MOATS, IMPERIAL CASTLE, TOKYO 67
THE LATE EMPEROR 80
"LITTLE GIRLS WITH LITTLER GIRLS ON THEIR BACKS"
(_in full colour_) 110
A RICE FIELD 130
DISPLAY OF DOLLS, DOLLS' FESTIVAL 147
DISPLAY OF ARMOUR AND TOYS, BOYS' FESTIVAL 153
GRAND SHRINE OF ISE 167
LACQUER WORK (_in full colour_) 175
EASTERN HONGWANJI TEMPLE, KYOTO 177
THE HONDEN, IYEYASU, NIKKO 180
OFF MIYAJIMA 183
MISS TSUDA'S SCHOOL, TOKYO 195
RED CROSS HOSPITAL BUILDINGS 206
ARMOUR AND WEAPONS OF ANCIENT WARRIORS 223
A JAPANESE STAGE 242
GEISHA GIRLS AT THE ICHIRIKI TEA-HOUSE, KYOTO 246
AN ACTOR OF THE PRESENT DAY 254
MR. ARNELL AND MR. ARNOLD IN A JAPANESE PLAY 260
A WRESTLER 265
THE _NO_ DANCE 271
THE HUNTING PARTY 274
MR. ARNELL AND AINUS 286
_KAGOS_ (SEDAN-CHAIRS) FOR MOUNTAIN CLIMBS 293
THE BUDDHA OF KAMAKURA 297
FUJI FROM OTOME-TOGE (_in full colour_) 302
"LOOKED WISELY AT SOME PRESENTS WHICH WE HAD
FOR HIM" 306
THE WONDERFUL AVENUE OF CRYPTOMERIAS 310
LAKE BIWA 314
AMA-NO-HASHIDATE 316
ANCIENT TEMPLE NEAR NARA 318
A VIEW OF MATSUSHIMA 320
JAPANESE JUNKS 322
THE GREAT _TORII_ 323
A JAPANESE FLOWER MAN (_in full colour_) 330
_IKE-BANA_ OR FLOWER ARRANGEMENT 336
"THE TABLE DECORATIONS ... ARE ESPECIALLY INTERESTING" 339
A JAPANESE GARDEN, TOKYO (_in full colour_) 342
A CARVED PANEL 353
THE CASTLE OF HIMEJI 355
VIEW OF MOUNT FUJIYAMA--PRINT BY HOKUSAI 364
THE LITTLE APES OF NIKKO 379
[Illustration: JAPAN
MAIN ISLANDS.]
THE
SPELL OF JAPAN
CHAPTER I
OUTLYING JAPAN
Our last sight of Brussels, when we left it in early December, was a row
of people, among whom was the Japanese Minister, waving good-bye to us
at the Gare du Nord.
We were starting for the Far East, for my husband had been transferred
from his post in Belgium to that of Ambassador to Japan. This promotion
was very pleasing to us, for Eastern questions were vital, we liked the
Japanese people, and no country could have been more interesting to us
than the Land of the Cherry Blossoms. It was our fourth visit to the
Orient, and, strange though it may seem, when we reached Korea, the
"jumping-off place," we said to ourselves that we began to feel at home.
A quick run across Germany and Russia brought us to Moscow, where
the great Chinese walls reminded us that we had reached an outpost
of the Occident, a city which had once been occupied by the Mongols.
When the Siberian Express pulled out of the station, we felt that we
had really said farewell to Europe and our faces were turned toward
the East. We crossed the vast plains of eastern Russia and western
Siberia--monotonous expanses of white, only relieved by the Ural
Mountains, which at the southern extremity of the range, where the
railroad passes over them, are not really mountains at all, but hills.
Beyond the Obi River we rose from the level steppe to the foot-hills of
the Altai Mountains, a forest region interspersed with open stretches of
good farming land--a country so much like our own West that it is
sometimes called "the new America." We passed immigrant trains filled
with Russian peasants, and the old road over which the exiles used to
march before the railroad was built, and saw cars with barred windows,
like those of prisons, in which convicts are transported.
The thermometer went down, down, as far as forty degrees below zero, but
the cars on the Trans-Siberian were kept as warm as the tropics. The
drifts grew deeper, and there were days and nights of endless snow. In
the hilly country around Lake Baikal we saw some fine scenery. Low hills
and high cliffs covered with larches border its eastern and western
shores, but to the southward, a huge mountain wall, lofty and snow-clad
as our Californian Sierras, closes in around the lake.
In comparison with our fast American trains this "express" moved so
slowly that we feared we should be old, grey-haired men and women before
reaching the end of the journey. It was a welcome sight when Kharbin at
last appeared, and we knew we were nearing Manchuria. Most Siberian
towns that we had seen consisted of low wooden buildings, but Kharbin
contains many substantial brick structures.
It is supposed to be nine days from Moscow to Kharbin, and fourteen days
from London to Tokyo direct, via Vladivostok. We were eighteen days from
Brussels to Kyoto, but we stopped off at Seoul. Our route was through
Korea, which, as everybody knows, is now a Japanese colony, because my
husband wished to see it on his way to his new post. Passengers for
Vladivostok left the train at Kharbin, but we were to continue on
southward toward Changchun, where we expected to find Osame Komori, a
Japanese whom we had known for many years, and who was to be my
husband's interpreter.
We had already received the following letter from Osame:
"DEAR EXCELLENCY:
"My honourable sir, allow me the liberty presenting you this
letter. I meet you Changchun. My gratitude is higher than Fuji
and sacred as the Temple of Ise. Your kindness to me is as deep
as the Pacific Ocean. Your letter was like sunshine in my life,
your news gave me the life from death.... I am total wreck by
fire. We had storms lately turning the beautiful Fuji like
silver capped mountain, but grain still presents carpets of red
and yellow. About gold lacquer you write. I made several enquiry
when it will be accomplished. I kick Y. urgently to finish
it.... My baby has grown well and often repeat the honour of
your last visit.
"Best wishes I remain,
"YOUR FAITHFUL SERVANT."
Osame was better than his word, for he met us at Kharbin instead of
Changchun, bringing with him supplies of various sorts, which he thought
might be acceptable.
After leaving Kharbin we passed through Manchuria, a flat and
low-rolling country, in places somewhat roughened, where streams have
cut their way. The black earth is carefully cultivated as far as the eye
can see, and at this season it was all in furrow. Little primitive carts
with shaggy ponies crossed the landscape, laden with bags of the bean
which is the great product of this section. Every now and then we passed
small fortified guardhouses of stone and brick, with the sentry at his
post, for protection against the brigands who sweep down from the
mountains and try to carry off even parts of the railway.
At Changchun we were assured that the Japanese Government wished us to
be its guests, and we found compartments reserved for us on the Pullman
train. From this point we were escorted by Japanese officials, who were
sent to meet us and give us all the information we could ask about the
country. They told us with bows that the train would be run on a faster
schedule than usual in our honour, and sure enough, we soon were
speeding over the excellent road-bed at a good rate.
As we went on, the snow began to disappear, and the sharp mountains of
Korea came in sight, with little villages tucked away in the ravines.
For Chosen, the Land of Morning Calm, as it is always called in Japan,
is a country of mountains. Granite peaks, deep gorges and fertile
valleys are everywhere in the interior, and the rugged, irregular
eastern coastline, of which we had a glimpse in crossing to Japan, winds
in and out around the base of the ranges. Among the hills and groves
that we passed were the mounds of buried ancestors. We were much
impressed by the sturdy, well set-up appearance of the Japanese soldiers
along the route, and the military bearing of their officers.
Here live the bear and deer, and the long-haired Korean tiger, so
well-known to sportsmen. Foreign sportsmen are free to hunt among these
hills wherever they will and they find it a strange sensation to watch
for tigers on ridges from which they can look down on the thatched roofs
of small villages, or to hear at night from their tent in the village
the cough of the tiger seeking his prey on the hills. The wild pigs and
hog deer, startled by this cough, flee in blind terror, and are seized
by the tiger as they dash past him. In every village a hornblower is on
the watch at night, and when he sounds his horn, all the people beat
their tiger alarms of tin pans to drive the animal away.
The Korean peasants eat the meat and drink the blood of a slain tiger in
the belief that this will render them brave and strong. They make an
all-powerful medicine from the long white whiskers, and use the tiny
collar-bones as charms to protect them from any devils they chance to
meet.
Although it was winter, both men and women were dressed in white cotton,
which looked rather startling after the dark costumes of the Chinese and
the fur coats of the Russians. White used to be the badge of mourning in
Korea, but now it is the national costume. Various stories are told to
account for its adoption. According to one of these, in the early part
of the nineteenth century three kings died in close succession, and as
every one was obliged to wear mourning for three years after the death
of a ruler, at the end of this period all the dyers had become
discouraged and given up their business, and so white became the dress
of the people. Now, when the men are in real mourning, they wear huge
straw hats, and do not think it proper to speak.
Although white is still the national costume, the Emperor, some years
ago, published an edict giving his subjects permission to wear other
colours. The nobles wear a number of coats of the finest cream-coloured
silk lawn, over which there may be an outer garment of blue. The white
garments impose a needless burden upon the women of the lower classes,
who are incessantly engaged in laundry work. The coats are ripped to
pieces and washed in some stream, where they are pounded on stones, then
after they are dry are placed on wooden cylinders and beaten with sticks
until the white cotton has taken on the sheen of dull satin.
Korean men wear curious little open-work hats of black horsehair, which
make them look very tall and slight and give them a dudish appearance.
They present an especially funny picture when riding a bullock. The
women, on the contrary, are wound about in white cotton to such an
extent that they look rather Turkish, and they waddle as if bow-legged.
Many of them are comical in green silk coats, with which they cover
their heads without putting their arms into the sleeves. They were
allowed to wear these garments as a badge of honour for their bravery in
battle, or, as some say, that they might be ready at a moment's notice
to change them into soldiers' coats.
[Illustration: A KOREAN COUPLE.]
It is said that the broad-brimmed hat sometimes worn by the men
originated, several centuries ago, in the efforts of one of the emperors
to put a stop to drunkenness. He decreed that all the men should have a
light earthen-ware hat of the shape worn to-day, which was never to be
taken off, except when they were lying down. The head was protected
against the hard surface of this covering by a light padded cap beneath.
As the rooms of Korean houses are small, not more than four men could be
seated in one, if they had this peculiar headgear. When any one was
found to have a broken hat, it was taken for granted that he had been in
some drunken brawl, and he received the prescribed punishment.
On our arrival in Seoul, we were met by Japanese officials, and were
also greeted by our Consul-General, Mr. Scidmore.
Seoul is charmingly situated in a valley surrounded by beautiful
white-capped mountains, over which wanders the high wall that encloses
the city. The old entrance gates are massive structures--great
foundations of stone with arches cut through them, on which rise the
double recurving roofs of tile. The old town with its narrow alleys and
its filth has well-nigh disappeared. Under Japanese administration, the
gates are no longer closed at night, for there is police protection, and
parts of the city are lighted by electricity. The new streets are wide,
clean and well drained. Although Korea is called the Hermit Kingdom, and
said to be many years behind Japan, there are telegraph lines, electric
cars, bicycles, even one or two motors, brick houses and a Railway
Station Hotel. The Japanese portion of the town was gay with flags
flying from bamboo staffs, in honour of the approaching New Year, and
red and white lanterns swung along the ridgepoles.
One peculiarity of Korean houses strikes a Westerner as very strange. As
their walls and floors are of stone or brick, it is possible to heat
them in the same manner as the Chinese _kang_, that is, by fires built
below. So, many of them are warmed in this way, the wood being put in
from the outside through an opening in the wall of the house, and the
smoke escaping through a chimney on the opposite side. A network of
pipes under the floors carries the hot air to every part of the
building.
[Illustration: A VIEW OF SEOUL.]
We visited the old palace where the dethroned Emperor and Empress used
to live. It is rather Chinese in appearance, but not quite so handsome
as the palace in Peking, which we had seen previously. The approach to
it is by a broad way lined on each side with low, tile-roofed houses;
this leads to the great _Mon_, the entrance gate, with double
overhanging roofs towering above it. Inside this is a great court, next
another massive gateway with two-storied upturned roofs, then another
courtyard, around which are low houses, and a third gate, leading into
the last court, which is approached by terraced steps of stone. Finally
appears the audience hall, a building with recurving roofs of tile,
beautiful carvings, and brilliant decorations in colour. Passages and
courts lead from this to the pleasure pavilion, a large, open,
two-storied structure with a heavy pagoda roof, which stands on a stone
terrace, and is reached by three bridges with stone balustrading. Beside
it is a tank where lotus grows, and near-by a park-like grove of quaint
pine-trees.
In this palace, several years ago, Empress Bin of Korea was assassinated
while asleep. The Emperor, however, dressed as a coolie, escaped to the
Russian Legation, where he lived for two years. He afterward built
himself a new palace in European style, where he resides now as a sort
of prisoner, while his son lives in another palace, and the grandson is
being educated in Japan. The Emperor is now known as Prince Yi the
Elder, and his son as Prince Yi the Younger, while his grandson, who
also bears the same name, is the last of the Yi dynasty, which has ruled
Korea for five hundred years.
As we all know, Korea was involved in the two terrible wars that have
been waged in the Far East in recent years. Japan needs Korea as an
outlet for her surplus population, as a source of food supply and a
market for her manufactured products, but still more does she need it as
a strong country to stand between herself and Russian aggression. In the
last decade of the nineteenth century the Hermit Kingdom was still under
the suzerainty of China, and its government was weak and hopelessly
corrupt. Japan refused to acknowledge this overlordship of China, and
insisted that the Korean government must be reformed. China was asked to
help in enforcing the changes, but refused to interfere. Neither China
nor Japan would yield.
Finally the Koreans sent for Chinese troops, and then the Japanese
attacked the Emperor's palace. A great naval battle was fought at the
mouth of the Yalu River, in which the Chinese were defeated and five of
their ships sunk. The Japanese army took Dalny and Port Arthur. Another
naval battle ended in the surrender of the Chinese fleet and the suicide
of the Chinese admiral. Togo and Yamagata, whom I once had the pleasure
of meeting at a luncheon in Tokyo, and Nogi, were among the heroes of
this war. By the treaty of Shimonoseki, in 1895, China agreed to pay an
indemnity to Japan and to recognize the independence of Korea, and also
ceded the Liaotung Peninsula with Port Arthur, and the islands of
Formosa and the Pescadores group to Japan. No sooner was this treaty
signed, however, than the Great Powers compelled Japan to restore
Liaotung to China.
But within a few years, Russia obtained a lease of Liaotung, and the
Powers made no protest. She soon invested immense sums in Manchuria--in
building the Manchurian Railroad, in fortifying Port Arthur and making
it a naval base, and extending the Chinese Eastern Railroad toward the
Yalu and Korea. She made Kharbin her military base and filled Manchuria
with soldiers.
Japan saw the necessity of protecting not only her freedom of trade, but
her very existence as a nation, for Russia, from her vantage ground in
Manchuria, had begun to take possession of the valley of the Yalu River,
on Korea's northwestern frontier. Once this section was in her power it
would be an easy matter to sweep down through the peninsula and across
the narrow Straits of Shimonoseki to the Island Empire itself.
In vain did Japan try to open up negotiations with Russia. On one excuse
or another, she was put off for months, while all the time Russia was
preparing for war. Finally diplomatic relations were severed by order of
Baron Komura, Japanese Minister of Foreign Affairs, and war was declared
February 10, 1904. Baron Kaneko, in an address before the Japan Club of
Harvard University, in April of that year, said that Japan was fighting
to maintain the peace of Asia and to conserve the influence of
Anglo-American civilization in the East.
After Admiral Togo had destroyed the Russian fleet, and the long siege
of Port Arthur had ended in its surrender to the heroic Nogi, all the
Japanese armies combined for the final struggle around Mukden, which
terminated in the flight of the Russians from Manchuria. The treaty of
peace, which was signed at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, gave Japan Port
Arthur, a protectorate over Korea, and half the island of Saghalien, and
provided that both nations should evacuate Manchuria. The protectorate
over Korea has since become a sovereignty.
The Japanese Governor-General, Count Terauchi, is a very strong and able
man, and under his administration many improvements have been made in
Korea. This has not always been done without friction between the
natives and their conquerors, it must be confessed, but the results are
certainly astonishing. The government has been reorganized, courts have
been established, the laws have been revised, trade conditions have been
improved and commerce has increased. Agriculture has been encouraged by
the opening of experiment stations, railroads have been constructed from
the interior to the sea-coast, and harbours have been dredged and
lighthouses erected. Japanese expenditures in Korea have amounted to
twelve million dollars yearly.
The Governor-General gave us a dinner at his residence, a big European
house, where everything was done in European style. The four Japanese
ladies who received, however, were all in native costume--black kimonos,
which they wear for ceremony only, and superb gold _obis_, or sashes.
One of them was the Governor's daughter, Countess Kodama, who was very
beautiful. I went in to dinner with the Governor-General, and had on the
other side a Japanese doctor of the Red Cross, who had been much in
America and was well acquainted with Miss Boardman, the head of our Red
Cross here.
Our delightful luncheon at the Consulate must not be forgotten, for no
more charming people could be found anywhere than the Scidmores. Miss
Scidmore is the author of "Jinrikisha Days," as well as other books on
the East. The remarkably pretty Consulate, which is owned by our
Government, is an old Korean house, or _yamen_, built in a walled
compound on the slope of a hill. Having only one story, it presented
more the appearance of a studio than of a residence, but was made cozy
with open fires and attractive with many beautiful curios.
The religions of Korea are Buddhism, Confucianism and Shamanism, all
found there to-day. Shamanism is the form of worship of the more
primitive masses. There are many Buddhist temples in Chosen. For
instance, among the peaks of Keum-Kang-San alone, in the heart of the
Korean mountains, there are over fifty monasteries and shrines, but all
more or less in a state of decay. Christianity was brought into the
country by the Roman Catholics in 1777.
[Illustration: THE AMERICAN CONSULATE. SEOUL.]
The American colony in Seoul numbers about five hundred, among them
being many Methodist and Presbyterian missionaries. In regard to the
recent troubles between these missionaries and the Japanese the accounts
differ. The Governor was attacked by some Koreans, and, of course,
ordered an investigation and the trial of those accused. Some of the
Koreans asserted that they were tortured by the Japanese during their
imprisonment, but in most cases this was proved untrue. The
missionaries, having been the advisers of the natives in all kinds of
ways, should not be too harshly judged for taking the part of those whom
they believed innocent.
The results of mission work in Chosen are certainly very striking. I was
told by an unprejudiced observer that the largest congregations she ever
saw were in Seoul, and she was assured that, farther north, the numbers
drawn into the churches were still greater. Even if we admit that some
of these converts were won over by the hope of material gain, we cannot
fail to see that all this work has had a humanizing effect, which is
especially needed in this country.
Some of the best work of the missions is done in schools and
hospitals--especially in hospitals. Hygienic conditions among natives
not in contact with foreigners are frightful, and their ideas of
medicine and surgery are most primitive. From mere ignorant attempts to
aid alone there is tremendous physical suffering. The foreign hospitals
have now won the confidence of the people, so that in the end they
always make application there.
When we left Seoul, many Japanese officials were at the station in the
early morning to say good-bye, among them being General Akashi, Count
Kodama, and others. At every town of any importance, during our journey
south, the mayor, the chief of police, reporters and hotelkeepers came
to the train, presented their cards, and exchanged pleasant remarks with
my husband. We were surprised to see how many of them spoke English.
Southern Korea is quite beautiful, with fine snow mountains and
cultivated terraces, where rice is raised by irrigation. The red soil is
very fertile, but the mountains are bare of trees, the Koreans having
cut down the forests. As the Japanese have made good forest laws,
however, the trees will now be allowed to grow again. The whole trip
through Korea was beautiful and most interesting, and in the south
particularly we noticed that numbers of Japanese immigrants were
settling in the country.
The colonial possessions of Japan include not only Korea, but part of
Saghalien, Formosa and one or two groups of islands in the north. It was
to Saghalien that the most desperate of Russian convicts were sent for
many years. The southern half was ceded to Japan after the
Russo-Japanese War. It has proved quite a valuable asset, inasmuch as it
contains extensive forests of pines, larches and other trees of
sub-Arctic regions, is noted for its fisheries, and abounds in sables,
the fur of which is shipped to Japan. These last are perhaps not so fine
as the best Russian sables, but they are of good quality, nevertheless.
Formosa, which I had seen on a previous visit to the East, lies to the
southward, off the coast of China. About one half as large as Ireland,
it consists in the west of a narrow, fertile plain, and in the centre
and east of mountains, which descend to the coast in sheer precipices
over three thousand feet high. Mt. Morrison, the loftiest peak on the
island, is higher than Fuji, and has been renamed by the Japanese
Nii-taka-yama, the New High Mountain. The ascent of Mt. Morrison
discloses all the variety and luxuriance of vegetation seen nowhere
except on a peak in the tropics. At the lower levels are palms, banyans,
huge camphor trees, tree-ferns and rare orchids, and impenetrable
growths of rattans; higher up are cryptomerias--giant cedars; still
higher, pine-trees; and alternate tracts of forest and areas of grass
land extend to the very top.
The word _formosa_, which means beautiful, was given to the island by
the first Portuguese navigators who sailed along its coast. It is indeed
one of the loveliest islands of the Far East. In the late afternoon, the
day we passed by, the sky was a hazy grey and the island a delicate
mauve. The sun disappeared behind the peaks, and the heavens became a
glowing red, transforming the mountains into dark, flaming volcanoes. As
darkness came on, the heat was so great that we slept on deck. The
beautiful Southern Cross gleamed above the horizon, and the glory of the
sunset gave place to the wonderful, mystic charm of a tropical night.
After having been occupied by China for over two centuries, Formosa was
ceded to Japan in 1895. Here, as in Korea, Japanese administration has
introduced great changes, and it is difficult to realize that railways
and electric lights are to be found in this remote part of the earth. In
return Formosa supplies Japan with rice, tea and sugar. It also produces
nearly all the camphor used in the world.
The Chinese, during their possession of the island, inhabited only the
western section, and had no power whatever over the wild Malays of the
eastern half. These savages are head-hunters, and are difficult to
handle, because they enjoy above everything else that most terrible and
exciting game in the world, the game of taking another man's head. They
dance war dances, and keep the skulls of their slain enemies as
drinking-cups, from which they drink wine made from the brains of their
victims. The Japanese have devised an ingenious scheme for keeping the
head-hunters under control and conquering them. They have encircled the
mountain peaks with a live electric wire, and have stationed guards at
intervals along the line. The natives have learned the danger of this.
Now the Japanese are gradually moving the wire higher and higher, so
eventually they will have the savages pocketed, and will subdue them by
starvation or otherwise.
After our brief stay in Seoul we bade farewell to the Colonies and
turned our faces toward the Land of the Rising Sun itself, making the
crossing from Chosen to Shimonoseki in a single night. This is far
pleasanter than the passage from Vladivostok, which requires several
days. In order to attract travellers, the Japanese have put their best
cars and boats on this route. Our last glimpse of the Hermit Kingdom was
a picture of jagged peaks rising in lofty precipices from a moonlit sea,
their black masses outlined in solemn grandeur against the heavens.