THREE WEEKS IN JAPAN.
We left Hong Kong on the 15th of May, just one year from the day that
we sailed from New York on our journey around the world. As we
completed these twelve months, we embarked on our twelfth voyage.
After being so long on foreign ships--English and French and Dutch:
Austrian Lloyds and Messageries Maritimes--it was pleasant to be at
last on one that bore the flag of our country, and bore it so proudly
as "The City of Peking." As we stepped on her deck, and looked up at
the stars above us, we felt that we were almost on the soil of our
country. As we were now approaching America, though still over six
thousand miles away, and nearly ten thousand from New York, we thought
it was time to telegraph that we were coming, but found that "the
longest way round was the nearest way home." The direct cable across
the Bay of Bengal, from Penang to Madras, was broken, and the message
had to go by Siberia. It seemed indeed a long, long way, but the
lightning regards neither space nor time. Swift as thought the message
flew up the coast of China to Siberia, and then across the whole
breadth of two continents, Asia and Europe, and dived under the
Atlantic, to come up on the shores of America.
The harbor of Hong Kong was gay with ships decorated with flags, and
the British fleet was still firing salutes, which seemed to be its
daily pastime, as the City of Peking began to move. With a grand sweep
she circled round the bay, and then running swiftly into a winding
passage among islands, through which is the entrance to the harbor,
steamed out on the broad Pacific.
We had intended to go to Shanghai, and through the Inland Sea of
Japan, but we sacrificed even such a pleasure (or rather left it till
the next time) to take advantage of this noble ship, that was bound
direct for Yokohama. Our course took us through the Channel of
Formosa, in full sight of the island, which has had an unenviable
notoriety from the treatment of the crews of ships wrecked on its
inhospitable coast. Leaving it far behind, in six days we were running
along the shores of Japan, and might have seen the snowy head of
Fusiyama, had it not been wrapped in clouds. The next morning we left
behind the long roll of the Pacific, and entered the Bay of Yedo--a
gulf fifty miles deep, whose clear, sparkling waters shone in the
sunlight. Fishing-boats were skimming the tranquil surface. The
Japanese are born to the sea. All around the coast they live upon it,
and are said to derive from it one-third of their subsistence. The
shores, sloping from the water's edge, are sprinkled with Japanese
villages. Some thirty miles from the sea we pass Mississippi Bay, so
called from the flag-ship of Commodore Perry, which lay here with his
fleet while he was conducting the negotiations for the opening of
Japan; the headland above it bears the name of Treaty Point. Rounding
this point, we see before us in the distance a forest of shipping, and
soon cast anchor in the harbor of Yokohama.
Yokohama has a pleasant look from the sea, an impression increased as
we are taken off in a boat, and landed on the quay--a sea wall, which
keeps out the waves, and furnishes a broad terrace for the front of
the town. Here is a wide street called "The Bund," on which stand the
principal hotels. From our rooms we look out directly on the harbor.
Among the steamers from foreign ports, are a number of ships of war,
among which is the Tennessee, the flagship of our Asiatic squadron,
bearing the broad pennant of Admiral Reynolds, whom we had known in
America, and indeed had bidden good-by at our own door, as we stepped
into the carriage to drive to the steamer. We parted, hoping to meet
in Asia, a wish which was now fulfilled. He was very courteous to us
during our stay, sending his boat to bring us on board, and coming
often with his excellent wife to see us on shore. It gave us a
pleasant feeling of nearness to home, to have a great ship full of our
countrymen close at hand.
In the rear of the town the hill which overlooks the harbor, bears the
foreign name of "The Bluff." Here is quite an American colony,
including several missionary families, in which we became very much at
home before we left Japan.
Yokohama has an American newness and freshness. It is only a few years
since it has come into existence as a place of any importance. It was
only a small fishing village until the opening of Japan, since which
it has become the chief port of foreign commerce. It is laid out in
convenient streets, which are well paved, and kept clean, and
altogether the place has a brisk and lively air, as of some new and
thriving town in our own country.
But just at this moment we are not so much interested to see American
improvements as to see the natives on their own soil. Here they are in
all their glory--pure-blooded Asiatics--and yet of a type that is not
Mongolian or Malayan or Indian. The Jap is neither a "mild Hindoo" nor
a "heathen Chinee." His hair is shaved from his head in a fashion
quite his own, making a sort of triangle on the crown; and no long
pigtail decorates his person behind. We recognize him at once, for
never was a human creature so exactly like his portrait. We see every
day the very same figures that we have seen all our lives on tea-cups
and saucers, and fans and boxes. Our first acquaintance with them was
as charioteers, in which they take the place, not of drivers, but of
horses; for the _jin-riki-sha_ (literally, a carriage drawn by man
power) has no other "team" harnessed to it. The vehicle is exactly
like a baby carriage, only made for "children of a larger growth." It
is simply an enlarged perambulator, on two wheels, drawn by a coolie;
and when one takes his seat in it, he cannot help feeling at first as
if he were a big baby, whom his nurse had tucked up and was taking out
for an airing. But one need not be afraid of it, lest he break down
the carriage, or tire out the steed that draws it. No matter how great
your excellency may be, the stout fellow will take up the thills,
standing where the pony or the donkey ought to be, and trot off with
you at a good pace, making about four miles an hour. At first the
impression was irresistibly ludicrous, and we laughed at ourselves to
see what a ridiculous figure we cut. Indeed we did not quite recover
our sobriety during the three weeks that we were in Japan. But after
all it is a very convenient way of getting about, and one at least is
satisfied that his horses will not run away, though he must not be too
sure of that, for I sometimes felt, especially when going down hill,
that they had got loose, and would land me with a broken head at the
bottom.
But Yokohama is only the gate of Yedo (or Tokio, as it is the fashion
to call it now, but I keep to the old style as more familiar), of
which we had read even in our school geographies as one of the most
populous cities of Asia. The access is very easy, for it is only
eighteen miles distant, and there is a railroad, so that it is but an
hour's ride. While on our way that morning, we had our first sight of
Fusiyama. Though seventy miles distant, its dome of snow rose on the
horizon sharp and clear, like the Jungfrau at Interlachen.
Arrived at Yedo, the station was surrounded by _jinrikishas_, whose
masters were kept in better order than the cabmen of New York. Wishing
to appear in the capital with proper dignity, we took two men instead
of one, so that each had a full team; and fine young bloods they were,
full of spirit, that fairly danced with us along the street, in such
gay fashion that my clerical garb was hardly sufficient to preserve
my clerical character. We first trotted off to the American
Minister's, Mr. Bingham's, who received us with all courtesy, and sent
for the interpreter of the Legation, Rev. Mr. Thompson, an American
missionary, who kindly offered to be our guide about the city, and
gave up the day to us. With such a cicerone, we started on our rounds.
He took us first to what is called the Summer Palace, though it is not
a palace at all, but only a park, to which the Mikado comes once in a
while to take his royal pleasure. There are a few rest-houses
scattered about, where one, whether king or commoner, might find
repose; or strolling under the shade of trees, and looking off upon
the tranquil sea. Next we rode to the Tombs of the Tycoons, where,
under gilded shrines, beneath temples and pagodas, sleep the royal
dead. The grounds are large and the temples exquisitely finished, with
the fine lacquer work for which the Japanese are famous; so that we
had to take off our shoes, and step very softly over the polished
floors. Riding on through endless streets, our friend took us to a
hill, ascended by a long flight of steps, on the top of which, in an
open space, stood a temple, an arbor, and a tea-house. This point
commands an extensive view of Yedo. It is a city of magnificent
distances, spreading out for miles on every side; and yet, except for
its extent, it is not at all imposing, for it is, like Canton, a mere
wilderness of houses, relieved by no architectural magnificence--not a
single lofty tower or dome rising above the dead level. But, unlike
Canton, the city has very broad streets, sometimes crossed by a river
or a canal, spanned by high, arched bridges. The principal business
street is much wider than Broadway, but it has not a shop along its
whole extent that would make any show even in "The Bowery." The houses
are built only one story high, because of earthquakes which are
frequent in Japan, caused, as the people believe, by a huge fish which
lies under the island, and that shakes it whenever he tosses his head
or lashes his tail. The houses are of such slight construction that
they burn like tinder; and it is not surprising that the city is often
swept by destructive fires. But if the whole place were thus swept
away, or if it were shaken to pieces by an earthquake in the night,
the people would pick themselves up in the morning and restore their
dwellings, with not much more difficulty than soldiers, whose tents
had been blown down by the wind, would find in pitching them again and
making another camp. Some of the government buildings are of more
stately proportions, and there are open grounds in certain quarters of
the city, adorned with magnificent trees, like the ancient oaks which
cast their shadows on the smooth-shaven lawns of England, and give to
English parks such an air of dignity and repose.
The Castle of the late Tycoon, which may be said to be the heart of
the city, around which it clusters, is more of a fortress than a
palace. There is an immense enclosure surrounded by a deep moat (whose
sides are very pretty, banked with rich green turf), and with
picturesque old towers standing at intervals along the walls. In the
rear of the grounds of the old Castle is the much less ambitious
residence of the Mikado, where he is duly guarded, though he does not
now, as formerly, keep himself invisible, as if he were a divinity
descended from the skies, who in mysterious seclusion ruled the
affairs of men.
By this time we were a little weary of sight-seeing, and drew up at a
Japanese tea-house, to take our tiffin. The place was as neat as a
pin, and the little maids came out to receive us, and bowed themselves
to the ground, touching the earth with their foreheads, in token of
the great honor that had come to their house--homage that we received
with becoming dignity, and went on our way rejoicing.
The pleasantest sights that we saw to-day were two which showed the
awakened intelligence and spirit of progress among the people. These
were the Government College, with two hundred students, manned in part
by American professors (where we found our countryman Dr. Veeder in
his lecture-room, performing experiments); and an old Temple of
Confucius which has been turned into a library and reading-room. Here
was a large collection of books and periodicals, many from foreign
countries, over which a number of persons were quietly but studiously
engaged. The enclosure was filled with grand old trees, and had the
air of an academic grove, whose silent shades were devoted to study
and learning.
After this first visit to the capital, we took a week for an excursion
into the interior, which gave us a sight of the country and of
Japanese life. This we could not have made with any satisfaction but
for our friends the missionaries. They kindly sketched the outlines of
a trip to the base of Fusiyama, seventy miles from Yedo. It was very
tempting, but what could we do without guides or interpreters? We
should be lost like babes in the wood. It occurred to us that such a
journey might do _them_ good. Dr. Brown and Dr. Hepburn, the oldest
missionaries in Japan, had been closely confined for months in
translating the Scriptures, and needed some relief. A little country
air would give them new life; so we invited them to be our guests, and
we would make a week of it. We finally prevailed upon them to "come
apart and rest awhile," not in a "desert," but in woodland shades,
among the mountains and by the sea. Their wives came with them,
without whom their presence would have given us but half the pleasure
it did. Thus encompassed and fortified with the best of companions,
with a couple of English friends, we made a party of eight, which,
with the usual impedimenta of provisions and a cook, and extra shawls
and blankets, required eleven _jinrikishas_, with two men harnessed to
each, making altogether quite a grand cavalcade, as we sallied forth
from Yokohama on a Monday noon in "high feather." To our staid
missionary friends it was an old story; but to us, strangers in the
land, it was highly exciting to be thus starting off into the interior
of Japan. The country around Yokohama is hilly and broken. Our way
wound through a succession of valleys rich with fields of rice and
barley, while along the roads shrubberies, which at home are
cultivated with great care, grew in wild profusion--the wisteria, the
honeysuckle, and the eglantine. The succession of hill and valley gave
to the country a variety and beauty which, with the high state of
cultivation, reminded us of Java. As we mounted the hills we had
glimpses of the sea, for we were skirting along the Bay of Yedo. After
a few miles we came to an enchanting spot, which bears the ambitious
title of the Plains of Heaven, yet which is not heaven, and is not
even a plain--but a rolling country, in which hill and valley are
mingled together, with the purple mountains as a background on one
side and the blue waters on the other.
As we rode along, I thought how significant was the simple fact of
such an excursion as this in a country, where a few years ago no
foreigner's life was safe. On this very road, less than ten years
since, an Englishman was cut down for no other crime than that of
being a foreigner, and getting in the way of the high daimio who was
passing. And now we jogged along as quietly, and with as little
apprehension, as if we were riding through the villages of New
England.
On our way lies a town which once bore a great name, Kamakura, where
nine centuries ago lived the great Yoritomo, the Napoleon of his day,
the founder of the military rule in the person of the Shogun (or
Tycoon, a title but lately assumed), as distinguished from that of the
Mikado. Here he made his capital, which was afterwards removed, and
about three hundred years since fixed in Yedo; and Kamakura is left,
like other decayed capitals, to live on the recollections of its
former greatness. But no change can take away its natural beauty, in
its sheltered valley near the sea.
A mile beyond, we came to the colossal image of Dai-Buts, or Great
Buddha. It is of bronze, and though in a sitting posture, is
forty-four feet high. The hands are crossed upon the knees. We crawled
up into his lap, and five of us sat side by side on his thumbs. We
even went inside, and climbed up into his head, and proved by
inspection that these idols, however colossal and imposing without,
are empty within. There are no brains within their brazen skulls. The
expression of the face is the same as in all statues of Buddha: that
of repose--passive, motionless--as of one who had passed through the
struggles of life, and attained to Nirvana, the state of perfect calm,
which is the perfection of heavenly beatitude.
It was now getting towards sunset, and we had still five or six miles
to go before we reached our resting-place for the night. As this was
the last stage in the journey, our fleet coursers seemed resolved to
show us what they could do. They had cast off all their garments,
except a cloth around their loins, and straw sandals on their feet, so
that they were stripped like Roman gladiators, and they put forth a
speed as if racing in the arena. A connoisseur would admire their
splendid physique. Their bodies were tattooed, like South Sea
Islanders, which set out in bolder relief, as in savage warriors,
their muscular development--their broad chests and brawny limbs. With
no stricture of garments to bind them, their limbs were left free for
motion. It was a study to see how they held themselves erect. With
heads and chests thrown back, they balanced themselves perfectly. The
weight of the carriage seemed nothing to them; they had only to keep
in motion, and it followed. Thus we came rushing into the streets of
Fujisawa, and drew up before the tea-house, where lodgings had been
ordered for the night. The whole family turned out to meet us, the
women falling on their knees, and bowing their heads till they touched
the floor, in homage to the greatness of their guests.
And now came our first experience of a Japanese tea-house. If the
_jin-riki-sha_ is like a baby carriage, the tea-house is like a baby
house. It is small, built entirely of wood with sliding partitions,
which can be drawn, like screens, to enclose any open space, and make
it into a room. These partitions are of paper, so that of course the
"chambers" are not very private. The same material is used for
windows, and answers very well, as it softens the light, like ground
glass. The house has always a veranda, so that the rooms are protected
from the sun by the overhanging roof. The bedrooms are very small, but
scrupulously clean, and covered with wadded matting, on which we lie
down to sleep.
At Fujisawa is a temple, which is visited by the Mikado once or twice
in the year. We were shown through his private rooms, and one or two
of us even stretched ourselves upon his bed, which, however, was not a
very daring feat, as it was merely a strip of matting raised like a
low divan or ottoman, a few inches above the floor. The temples are
not imposing structures, and have no beauty except that of position.
They generally stand on a hill, and are approached by an avenue or a
long flight of steps, and the grounds are set out with trees, which
are left to grow till they sometimes attain a majestic height and
breadth. In front of this temple stands a tree, which we recognized by
its foliage as the _Salisburia adiantifolia_--a specimen of which we
had in America on our own lawn, but there it was a shrub brought from
the nursery, while here it was like a cedar of Lebanon. It was said to
be a thousand years old. Standing here, it was regarded as a sacred
tree, and we looked up to it with more reverence than to the sombre
temple behind, or the sleepy old bonzes who were sauntering idly about
the grounds.
The next morning, as we started on our journey, we came upon the
Tokaido, the royal road of Japan, built hundreds of years ago from
Yedo to Kioto, to connect the political with the spiritual
capital--the residence of the Tycoon with that of the Mikado. It is
the highway along which the daimios came in state to pay their homage
to the Tycoon at Yedo, as of old subject-princes came to Rome. It is
constructed with a good deal of skill in engineering, which is shown
in carrying it over mountains, and in the building of bridges.
Portions of the road are paved with blocks of stone like the Appian
Way. But that which gives it a glory and majesty all its own, is its
bordering of gigantic cedars--the _Cryptomeria Japonica_--which attain
an enormous height, with gnarled and knotted limbs that have wrestled
with the storms of centuries.
As we advance, the road comes out upon the sea, for we have crossed
the peninsula which divides the Bay of Yedo from the Pacific, and are
now on the shores of the ocean itself. How beautiful it seemed that
day! It was the last of May, and the atmosphere was full of the warmth
of early summer. The coast is broken by headlands shooting out into
the deep, which enclose bays, where the soft, warm sunshine lingers as
on the shores of the Mediterranean, and the waters of the mighty
Pacific come gently rippling up the beach. So twixt sea and land,
sunshine and shade, we sped gaily along to Odawara--another place
which was once the residence of a powerful chief, whose castle is
still there, though in ruins; its stones, if questioned of the past,
might tell a tale like that of one of the castles on the Rhine. These
old castles are the monuments of the same form of government, for the
Feudal System existed in Japan as in Germany. The kingdom was divided
into provinces, ruled by great daimios, who were like the barons of
the Middle Ages, each with his armed retainers, who might be called
upon to support the central government, yet who sometimes made war
upon it. This Feudal System is now completely destroyed. As we were
riding over the Tokaido, I pictured to myself the great pageants that
had swept along so proudly in the days gone by. What would those old
barons have thought if they could have seen in the future an
irruption of invaders from beyond the sea, and that even this king's
highway should one day be trodden by the feet of outside barbarians?
At Odawara we dismissed our men, (who, as soon as they received their
money, started off for Yokohama,) as we had to try another mode of
transportation; for though we still kept the Tokaido, it ascends the
mountains so steeply that it is impassable for anything on wheels, and
we had to exchange the _jinrikisha_ for the _kago_--a kind of basket
made of bamboo, in which a man is doubled up and packed like a bundle,
and so carried on men's shoulders. It would not answer badly if he had
neither head nor legs. But his head is always knocking against the
ridge-pole, and his legs have to be twisted under him, or "tied up in
a bow-knot." This is the way in which criminals are carried to
execution in China; but for one who has any further use for his limbs,
it is not altogether agreeable. I lay passive for awhile, feeling as
if I had been packed and salted down in a pork-barrel. Then I began to
wriggle, and thrust out my head on one side and the other, and at last
had to confess, like the Irishman who was offered the privilege of
working his passage on a canal-boat and was set to leading a horse,
that "if it were not for the honor of the thing, I had as lief walk."
So I crawled out and unrolled myself, to see if my limbs were still
there, for they were so benumbed that I was hardly conscious of their
existence, and then straightening myself out, and taking a long bamboo
reed, which is light and strong, lithe and springy, for an alpenstock,
I started off with my companions. We all soon recovered our spirits,
and
"Walked in glory and in joy
Along the mountain side,"
till at nightfall we halted in the village of Hakone, a mountain
retreat much resorted to by foreigners from Yedo and Yokohama.
Here we might have been in the Highlands of Scotland, for we were in
the heart of mountains, and on the border of a lake. To make the
resemblance more perfect, a Scotch mist hung over the hills, and rain
pattered on the roof all night long, and half the next day. But at
noon the clouds broke, and we started on our journey. Dr. and Mrs.
Brown and Mrs. Hepburn kept to their baskets, and were borne a long
way round, while the rest of us were rowed across the lake, a
beautiful sheet of water, nestled among the hills, like Loch Katrine.
One of these hills is tunnelled for two miles, to carry the water
under it to irrigate the rice fields of some twenty villages. Landing
on the other side of the lake, we had before us a distance of eight or
ten miles. Our coolies stood ready to carry us, but all preferred the
freedom of their unfettered limbs. The mountain is volcanic, and on
the summit is a large space made desolate by frequent eruptions, out
of which issues smoke laden with the fumes of sulphur, and hot springs
throw off jets of steam, and boil and bubble, and hiss with a loud
noise, as if all the furies were pent up below, and spitting out their
rage through the fissures of the rocks. The side of the mountain is
scarred and torn, and yellow with sulphur, like the sides of Vesuvius.
The natives call the place Hell. It was rather an abrupt transition,
after crossing the Plains of Heaven a day or two before, to come down
so soon to the sides of the pit.
Towards evening we came down into the village of Miya-no-shita (what
musical names these Japanese have!), where our friends were waiting
for us, and over a warm cup of tea talked over the events of the day.
This is a favorite resort, for its situation among the mountains, with
lovely walks on every side, and for its hot springs. Water is brought
into the hotel in pipes of bamboo, so hot that one is able to bear it
only after slowly dipping his feet into it, and thus sliding in by
degrees, when the sensation is as of being scalded alive. But it takes
the soreness out of one's limbs weary with a long day's tramp; and
after being steamed and boiled, we stretched ourselves on the clean
mats of the tea-house, and slept the sleep of innocence and peace.
One cannot go anywhere in Japan without receiving a visit from the
people, who, being of a thrifty turn, seize the occasion of a
stranger's presence to drive a little trade. The skill of the Japanese
is quite marvellous in certain directions: They make everything _in
petto_, in miniature--the smallest earthenware; the tiniest cups and
saucers. In these mountain villages they work, like the Swiss, in
wooden-ware, and make exquisite and dainty little boxes and bureaus,
as if for dolls, yet with complete sets of drawers, which could not
but take the fancy of one who had little people at home waiting for
presents. Besides the temptation of such trinkets, who could resist
the insinuating manner of the women who brought them? The Japanese
women are not pretty. They might be, were it not for their odious
fashions. We have seen faces that would be quite handsome if left in
their native, unadorned beauty. But fashion rules the world in Japan
as in Paris. As soon as a woman is married her eyebrows are shaved
off, and her teeth blackened, so that she cannot open her mouth
without showing a row of ebony instead of ivory, which disfigures
faces that would be otherwise quite winning. It says a good deal for
their address, that with such a feature to repel, they can still be
attractive. This is owing wholly to their manners. The Japanese men
and women are a light-hearted race, and captivate by their gayety and
friendliness. The women were always in a merry mood. As soon as they
entered the room, before even a word was spoken, they began to giggle,
as if our appearance were very funny, or as if this were the quickest
way to be on good terms with us. The effect was irresistible. I defy
the soberest man to resist it, for as soon as your visitor laughs, you
begin to laugh from sympathy; and when you have got into a hearty
laugh together, you are already acquainted, and in friendly
relations, and the work of buying and selling goes on easily. They
took us captive in a few minutes. We purchased sparingly, thinking of
our long journey; but our English friends bought right and left, till
the next day they had to load two pack-horses with boxes to be carried
over the mountains to Yokohama.
The next day was to bring the consummation of our journey, for then we
were to go up into a mountain and see the glory of the Lord. A few
miles distant is the summit of Otometoge, from which one obtains a
view of Fusiyama, looking full in his awful face. We started with
misgivings, for it had been raining, and the clouds still hung low
upon the mountains. Our way led through hamlets clustered together in
a narrow pass, like Alpine villages. As we wound up the ascent, we
often stopped to look back at the valley below, from which rose the
murmur of rushing waters, while the sides of the mountains were
clothed with forests. These rich landscapes gave such enchantment to
the scene as repaid us for all our weariness. At two o'clock we
reached the top, and rushed to the brow to catch the vision of
Fusiyama, but only to be disappointed. The mountain was there, but
clouds covered his hoary head. In vain we watched and waited; still
the monarch hid his face. Clouds were round about the throne. The
lower ranges stood in full outline, but the heaven-piercing dome, or
pyramid of snow, was wrapped in its misty shroud. That for which we
had travelled seventy miles, we could not see at last.
Is it not often so in life? The moments that we have looked forward to
with highest expectations, are disappointing when they come. We cross
the seas, and journey far, to reach some mount of vision, when lo! the
sight that was to reward us is hidden from our eyes; while our highest
raptures come to us unsought, perhaps in visions of the night.
But our toilsome climb was not unrewarded. Below us lay a broad, deep
valley, to which the rice fields gave a vivid green, dotted with
houses and villages, which were scattered over the middle distance,
and even around the base of Fusiyama himself. Drinking in the full
loveliness of the scene, we turned to descend, and after a three
hours' march, footsore and weary, entered our Alpine village of
Miya-no-shita.
The next morning we set out to return. Had the day shone bright and
clear, we should have been tempted to renew our ascent of the day
before. But as the clouds were still over the sky, we reluctantly
turned away. Taking another route from that by which we came, we
descended a deep valley, and winding around the heights which we had
crossed before, at eleven o'clock reentered Odawara.
And now we had done with our marching and our kagos, and once more
took to our chariots, which drew up to the door--the men not exactly
saddled and bridled, but stripped for the race, with no burden added
to the burden of the flesh which they had to carry. A crowd collected
to see us depart, and looked on admiringly as we went dashing through
the long street of Odawara, and out upon the Tokaido. Our way, as
before, led by the sea, which was in no tempestuous mood, but calm and
tranquil, as if conscious that the summer was born. The day was not
too warm, for the clouds that were flying over the sky shielded us
from the direct rays of the sun; yet as we looked out now and then,
the giant trees cast their shadows across our path. An American poet
sings:
"What is so rare as a day in June?"
Surely nothing could be _more_ rare or fair; but even the sky and the
soft Summer air seemed more full of exquisite sensations to the
strangers who were that day rolling along the shores of the Pacific,
under the mighty cedars of the Tokaido.
Once more I was surprised and delighted at the agility and swiftness
of the men who drew our _jin-riki-shas_. As we had but twenty-three
miles to go in the afternoon, we took it easily, and gave them first
only a gentle trot of five miles to get their limbs a little supple,
and then stopped for tiffin. Some of the men had on a loose jacket
when we started, besides the girdle about the loins. This they took
off and wrung out, for they were dripping with sweat, and wiped their
brawny chests and limbs, and then took their chopsticks and applied
themselves to their rice, while we went upstairs in the tea-house, and
had our soup and other dishes served to us, sitting on the floor like
Turks, and then stretched ourselves on the mats, weary with our
morning's walk, and even with the motion of riding. While we were
trying to get a little rest our men talked and laughed in the court
below as if it were child's play to take us over the road. As we
resumed our places and turned out of the yard, I had the curiosity to
"time" their speed. I had a couple of athletic fellows, who thought me
a mere feather in weight, and made me spin like a top as they bowled
along. They started off at an easy trot, which they kept up, without
breaking, mile after mile. I did not need to crack the whip, but at
the word, away they flew through villages and over the open country,
never stopping, but when they came to slightly rising ground, rushing
up like mettlesome horses, and down at full speed. Thus they kept on,
and never drew rein till they came to the bank of a river, which had
to be crossed in a boat. I took out my watch. It was an hour and a
quarter, and they had come seven miles and a half! This was doing
pretty well. Of course they could not keep this up all day; yet they
will go thirty miles from sunrise to sunset, and even forty, if
spurred to it by a little extra pay. Sometimes, indeed, they go even
at a still greater speed for a short distance. The first evening, as
we came into Fujisawa, I do not doubt that the last fifteen minutes
they were going at a speed of ten miles an hour, for they came in on a
run. This is magnificent, but I cannot think it very healthful
exercise. As gymnasts and prize-fighters grow old and die before their
time, so with these human racehorses. Dr. Hepburn says it exhausts
them very early; that they break down with disease of the heart or
lungs. They are very liable to rheumatism. This is partly owing to
their carelessness. They get heated, and then expose their naked
bodies to drafts of cold air, which of course stiffens their limbs, so
that an old runner becomes like a foundered horse. But even with all
care, the fatigue is very exhausting, and often brings on diseases
which take them off in their prime. Yet you cannot restrain their
speed, any more than that of colts that have never been broken. I
often tried to check them, but they "champed at the bit," and after a
few vain remonstrances I had to give it up, and "let them slide."
We did not stop at Fujisawa, where we had slept before, for it is a
large and noisy town, but pushed on three miles farther, across a
sandy beach to Enoshima, a little fishing village, which stands on a
point of land jutting out into the sea, so that at high tide it is an
island, and at low tide a peninsula. Indeed, it is not much more than
a projecting rock of a few hundred acres, rising high out of the
waters, and covered thickly with groves of trees, among which are
several Buddhist temples. As we strolled along the top of the cliffs
at sunset, there were a dozen points of view where we could sit under
the shade of trees a hundred feet above the waves, as on the cliffs of
the Isle of Wight, saying with Tennyson:
"Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!"
The next morning we rambled over the hills again, for it was a spot
where one could but linger. The bay was alive with boats, as
"The fishers went sailing out into the West."
On the shore were divers, who plunged from the rocks into deep water,
to bring up shells and coral for us, and a sort of sponge peculiar to
this country, with spicules like threads of spun glass. Under the
cliff is a long cave, hollowed out by the waves, with an arch overhead
like a vaulted roof. Thus under ground or above ground we wandered
hour after hour.
But all things pleasant must have an end. The week was gone; it was
Saturday noon: and so reluctantly leaving both the mountains and the
sea, and taking to our chariots once more, we struck into the Tokaido,
and in four hours were rolling along the Bund at Yokohama.
Three days after we made a second visit to Yedo, to visit an American
gentleman who held a position in the Foreign Office, and spent a night
at his pretty Japanese house in the Government grounds. Here being, as
it were, in the interior of the State Department, we got some European
news; among which was the startling intelligence of a revolution in
Turkey, and that Abdul Aziz had been deposed!
In our second excursion about the city, as we had long distances to
traverse, we took two prancing bucks to each jinrikisha, who ran us
such a rig through the streets of Yedo as made us think of John Gilpin
when he rode to London town. The fellows were like wild colts, so full
of life that they had to kick it off at the heels. Sometimes one
pulled in front while the other pushed behind, but more often they
went tandem, the one in advance drawing by a cord over his shoulder.
The leader was so full of spring that he fairly bounded over the
ground, and if we came to a little elevation, or arched bridge, he
sprang into the air like a catamount, while his fellow behind, though
a little more stiff, as a "wheel horse" ought to be, bore himself
proudly, tossing up his head, and throwing out his chest, and never
lagged for an instant. C---- was delighted, nothing could go too fast
for her; but whether it was fear for my character or for my head, I
had serious apprehension that I should be "smashed" like Chinese
crockery, and poked my steeds in the rear with my umbrella to signify
that I was entirely satisfied with their performances, and that they
need not go any faster!
While in Yedo we attended a meeting of missionaries, English, Scotch,
and American, in a distant part of the city, and in the evening paid a
visit to Prof. Verbeck, who has been here so long that he is an
authority on all Japanese matters. It was eight o'clock when we set
out to return to our friends in the Foreign Office, and we bade our
men take us through the main streets, that we might have a view of
Yedo by night. The distance was some three miles, the greater part
through the principal street. It was near the time of the full moon,
but fortunately she was hidden to-night by clouds, for even her soft
radiance could not give such animation and picturesqueness to the
scene as the lights of the city itself. The broad street for two miles
was in a flare of gas-light, like one of the great streets of Paris.
The shops were open and lighted; added to which were hundreds (perhaps
thousands) of _jin-riki-shas_, each with its Chinese lantern, glancing
two and fro, like so many fireflies on a summer night, making a scene
such as one reads of in the Arabian Nights, but as I had never
witnessed before.
But that which is of most interest to a stranger in Japan, is not Yedo
or Fusiyama, but the sudden revolution which has taken place in its
relations with other countries, and in its internal condition. This is
one of the most remarkable events in history, which, in a few years,
has changed a whole nation, so that from being the most isolated, the
most exclusive, and the most rigidly conservative, even in Asia, it
has become the most active and enterprising; the most open to foreign
influences; the most hospitable to foreign ideas, and the most ready
to introduce foreign improvements. This change has taken Japan out of
the ranks of the non-progressive nations, to place it, if not in the
van of modern improvement, at least not very far in the rear. It has
taken it out of the stagnant life of Asia, to infuse into its veins
the life of Europe and America. In a word, it has, as it were,
unmoored Japan from the coast of Asia, and towed it across the
Pacific, to place it alongside of the New World, to have the same
course of life and progress.
It is a singular fact, which, as it has united our two nations in the
past, ought to unite us in the future, that the opening of Japan came
from America. It would have come in time from the natural growth of
the commerce of the world, but the immediate occasion was the
settlement of California. The first emigration, consequent on the
discovery of gold, was in 1849; the treaty with Japan in 1854. As soon
as there sprang up an American Empire on our Western coast, there
sprang up also an American commerce on the Pacific. Up to that time,
except the whalers from New Bedford that went round Cape Horn, to cast
their harpoons in the North Pacific, or an occasional vessel to the
Sandwich Islands, or that brought a cargo of tea from China, there
were few American ships in the Pacific. But now it was ploughed by
fleets of ships, and by great lines of steamers. The Western coast of
America faced the Eastern coast of Asia, and there must be commerce
between them. Japan lay in the path to China, and it was inevitable
that there must be peaceful intercourse, or there would be armed
collision. The time had come when the policy of rigid exclusion could
not be permitted any longer. Of course Japan had the right which
belongs to any independent power, to regulate its commerce with
foreign nations. But there were certain rights which belonged to all
nations, and which might be claimed in the interest of humanity. If an
American ship, in crossing the Pacific on its way to China, were
shipwrecked on the shores of Japan, the sailors who escaped the perils
of the sea had the right to food and shelter--not to be regarded as
trespassers or held as prisoners. Yet there had been instances in
which such crews had been treated as captives, and shut up in prison.
In one instance they were exhibited in cages. If they had fallen
among Barbary pirates, they could not have been treated with greater
severity. This state of things must come to an end; and in gently
forcing the issue, our government led the way. As English ships had
broken down the wall of China, so did an American fleet open the door
of Japan, simply by an attitude of firmness and justice; by demanding
nothing but what was right, and supporting it by an imposing display
of force. Thus Japan was opened to the commerce of America, and
through it of the world, without shedding a drop of blood.
The result has been almost beyond belief. A quarter of a century ago
no foreign ship could anchor in these waters. And now here, in sight
of the spot where lay the fleet of Commodore Perry, I see a harbor
full of foreign ships. It struck me strangely, as I sat at our windows
in the Grand Hotel, and looked out upon the tranquil bay. There lay
the Tennessee, not with guns run out and matches lighted, but in her
peaceful dress, with flags flying, not only from her mast-head, but
from all her yards and rigging. There were also several English ships
of war, with Admiral Ryder in command, from whose flag-ship, as from
the Tennessee, we heard the morning and evening gun, and the bands
playing. The scene was most beautiful by moonlight, when the ships lay
motionless, and the tall masts cast their shadows on the water, and
all was silent, as in so many sleeping camps, save the bells which
struck the hours, and marked the successive watches all night long. It
seemed as if the angel of peace rested on the moonlit waters, and that
nations would not learn war any more.
The barrier once broken down, foreign commerce began to enter the
waters of Japan. American ships appeared at the open ports. As if to
give them welcome, lighthouses were built at exposed points on the
coast, so that they might approach without danger. A foreign
settlement sprung up at Yokohama. By and by young men went abroad to
see the world, or to be educated in Europe or America, and came back
with reports of the wealth and power of foreign nations. Soon a spirit
of imitation took possession of Young Japan. These students affected
even the fashions of foreign countries, and appeared in the streets of
Yedo in coat and pantaloons, instead of the old Japanese dress; and
ate no longer with chopsticks, but with knives and forks. Thus manners
and customs changed, to be followed by a change in laws and in the
government itself. Till now Japan had had a double-headed government,
with two sovereigns and two capitals. But now there was a revolution
in the country, the Tycoon was overthrown, and the Mikado, laying
aside his seclusion and his invisibility, came from Kioto to Yedo, and
assumed the temporal power, and showed himself to his people. The
feudal system was abolished, and the proud daimios--who, with their
clans of armed retainers, the _samourai_, or two-sworded men, were
independent princes--were stripped of their estates, which sometimes
were as large as German principalities, and forced to disband their
retainers, and reduced to the place of pensioners of the government.
The army and navy were reconstructed on European models. Instead of
the old Japanese war-junks, well-armed frigates were seen in the Bay
of Yedo--a force which has enabled Japan to take a very decided tone
in dealing with China, in the matter of the island of Formosa; and
made its power respected along the coast of Eastern Asia. We saw an
embassy from Corea passing through the streets of Yokohama, on its way
to Yedo, to pay homage to the Mikado, and enter into peaceful
relations with Japan. A new postal system has been introduced,
modelled on our own. In Yokohama one sees over a large building the
sign "The Japanese Imperial Post-Office," and the postman goes his
rounds, delivering his letters and papers as in England and America.
There is no opposition to the construction of railroads, as in China.
Steamers ply around the coast and through the Inland Sea; and
telegraphs extend from one end of the Empire to the other; and
crossing the sea, connect Japan with the coast of Asia, and with all
parts of the world. Better than all, the government has adopted a
general system of national education, at the head of which is our own
Prof. Murray; it has established schools and colleges, and introduced
teachers from Europe and America. In Yedo I was taken by Prof.
McCartee to see a large and noble institution for the education of
girls, established under the patronage of the Empress. These are signs
of progress that cannot be paralleled in any other nation in the
world.
With such an advance in less than one generation, what may we not hope
in the generation to come? In her efforts at progress, Japan deserves
the sympathy and support of the whole civilized world. Having
responded to the demand for commercial intercourse, she has a just
claim to be placed on the footing of the most favored nations.
Especially is she entitled to expect friendship from our country. As
it fell to America to be the instrument of opening Japan, it ought to
be our pride to show her that the new path into which we led her, is a
path of peace and prosperity. Japan is our nearest neighbor on the
west, as Ireland is on the east; and among nations, as among
individuals, neighbors ought to be friends. It seemed a good token
that the American Union Church in Yokohama should stand on the very
spot where Commodore Perry made his treaty with Japan--the beginning,
let us hope, of immeasurable good to both nations. As India is a part
of the British Empire, and may look to England to secure for her the
benefits of modern civilization, so the duty of stretching out a hand
across the seas to Japan, may fairly be laid on the American church
and the American people.
Our visit was coming to an end. A day or two we spent in the shops,
buying photographs and bronzes, and in paying farewell visits to the
missionaries, who had shown us so much kindness. The "parting cup" of
tea we took at Dr. Hepburn's, and from his windows had a full view of
Fusiyama, that looked out upon us once more in all his glory. We were
to embark that evening, to sail at daylight. Mr. John Ballagh and
several ladies of "The Home," who had made us welcome in their
pleasant circle, "accompanied us to the ship." We had a long row
across the bay just as the moon was rising, covering the waters with
silver, and making the great ships look like mighty shadows as they
stood up against the sky. "On such a night" we took our farewell of
Asia.
The next morning very early we were sailing down the bay of Yedo, and
were soon out on the Pacific. But the coast remained long in sight,
and we sat on deck watching the receding shores of a country which in
three weeks had become so familiar and so dear; and when at last it
sunk beneath the waters, we left our "benediction" on that beautiful
island set in the Northern Seas.
We did not steer straight for San Francisco, although it is in nearly
the same latitude as Yokohama, but turned north, following what
navigators call a Great Circle, on the principle that as they get high
up on the globe, the degrees of longitude are shorter, and thus they
can "cut across" at the high latitudes. "It is nearer to go around the
hill than to go over it." We took a prodigious sweep, following the
_Kuroshiwo_, or Black Current, the Gulf Stream of the Pacific, which
flows up the coast of Asia, and down the coast of America. We bore
away to the north till we were off the coast of Kamschatka, and within
a day's sail of Petropaulovski, before we turned East. Our ship was
"The Oceanic," of the famous White Star line, which, if not so
magnificent as "The City of Peking," was quite as swift a sailer,
cleaving the waters like a sea-bird. In truth, the albatrosses that
came about the ship for days from the Aleutian Islands, now soaring in
air, and now skimming the waters, did not float along more easily or
more gracefully.
As we crossed the 180th degree of longitude, just half the way around
the world from the Royal Observatory at Greenwich, we "gained a day,"
or rather, recovered one that we had lost. As we had started eastward,
we lost a few minutes each day, and had to set our watches every noon.
We were constantly changing our meridian, so that no day ended where
it began, and we never had a day of full twenty-four hours, but always
a few minutes, like sands, had crumbled away. By the time we reached
England, five hours had thus dropped into the sea; and when we had
compassed the globe, we had parted, inch by inch, moment by moment,
with a whole day. It seemed as if this were so much blotted out from
the sum of our being--gone in the vast and wandering air--lost in the
eternities, from which nothing is ever recovered. But these lost
moments and hours were all gathered up in the chambers of the East,
and now in mid-ocean, one morning brought us a day not in the
calendar, to be added to the full year. Two days bore the same date,
the 18th of June, and as this fell on a Sunday, two holy days came
together--one the Sabbath of Asia, the other of America. It seemed fit
that this added day should be a sacred one, for it was something
taken, as it were, from another portion of time to be added to our
lives--a day which came to us fresh from its ocean baptism, with not a
tear of sorrow or a thought of sin to stain its purity; and we kept a
double Sabbath in the midst of the sea.
Seventeen days on the Pacific, with nothing to break the boundless
monotony! In all that breadth of ocean which separates Asia and
America, we saw not a single sail on the horizon; and no land, not
even an island, till we came in sight of those shores which are dearer
to us than any other in all the round world.
Here, in sight of land, this story ends. There is no need to tell of
crossing the continent, which completed our circuit of the globe, but
only to add in a word the lesson and the moral of this long journey.
Going around the world is an education. It is not a mere pastime; it
is often a great fatigue; but it is a means of gaining knowledge which
can only be obtained by observation. Charles V. used to say that "the
more languages a man knew, he was so many more times a man." Each new
form of human speech introduced him into a new world of thought and
life. So in some degree is it in traversing other continents, and
mingling with other races. However great America may be, it is
"something" to add to it a knowledge of Europe and Asia. Unless one be
encased in pride, or given over to "invincible ignorance," it will
teach him modesty. He will boast less of his own country, though
perhaps he will love it more. He will see the greatness of other
nations, and the virtues of other people. Even the turbaned Orientals
may teach us a lesson in dignity and courtesy--a lesson of repose, the
want of which is a defect in our national character. In every race
there is something good--some touch of gentleness that makes the whole
world kin. Those that are most strange and far from us, as we approach
them, show qualities that win our love and command our respect.
In all these wanderings, I have met no rudeness in word or act from
Turks or Arabs, Hindoos or Malays, Chinese or Japanese; but have often
received kindness from strangers. The one law that obtains in all
nations is the law of kindness. Have I not a right to say that to know
men is to love them, not to hate them nor despise them?
He who hath made of one blood all nations of men to dwell on the
earth, hath not forgotten any of His children. There is a beauty in
every country and in every clime. Each zone of the earth is belted
with its peculiar vegetation; and there is a beauty alike in the pines
on Norwegian hills, and the palms on African deserts. So with the
diversities of the human race. Man inhabits all climes, and though he
changes color with the sun, and has many varieties of form and
feature, yet the race is the same; all have the same attributes of
humanity, and under a white or black skin beats the same human heart.
In writing of peoples far remote, my wish has been to bring them
nearer, and to bind them to us by closer bonds of sympathy. If these
pictures of Asia make it a little more real, and inspire the feeling
of a common nature with the dusky races that live on the other side of
the globe, and so infuse a larger knowledge and a gentler charity,
then a traveller's tale may serve as a kind of lay sermon, teaching
peace and good will to men.