“You must go to Nara,” they told us, as soon as we had landed in Japan.
“It is one of the oldest and most sacred cities of the Empire. Though
now politically of little importance, there are many interesting things
to be seen. There are beautiful groves of cryptomerias, shadowy roads,
crumbling stone lanterns, tame deer, and many an ancient Shinto
temple. If you do not see Nara, you do not see Japan.”
And so on a certain April morning we found ourselves on our way to the
southern part of the island.
You have heard much of the sunshine and the flowers, the tea-drinking,
and the various æsthetic touches of Japanese life, so it may be
somewhat disillusioning to learn that there are other points of view.
This thought forces itself upon my mind whenever I think of our watery
journey to Nara,--for it rains in Japan. The days can be cold and dark,
hotel accommodations can be scanty, and foreigners can take a long and
hungry railroad ride, and have impressions that they do not care to put
down in a book of travels. We had heard the praises of the journey so
rapturously sung, that the rainy mountains, the swollen streams, the
dripping trees, the cold, wet, and uncomfortable passengers, struck us
with a painful sense of the reality of things. As yet I had experienced
only the warm and sunshiny side of the climate, and so, as I stepped
from the train that afternoon, and gazed about on the various signs of
general discomfort, I could but ask myself, “Is this Japan?”
Yes, it was Japan, and more than that, it was Nara. If I had any
reasonable doubt, before me stood the everlasting symbol of things
Japanese,--the _jinrikisha_ man. He had a melancholy and rainy-weather
look, which was increased by the freedom with which he had discarded
his usual costume and appeared wrapped in a covering of straw. Such a
picturesque equipage and ingenuous attendant look well in a photograph,
and can even afford a certain amount of pleasure in a busy city with
plenty of daylight and interesting objects as a background; but as I
stood there, facing the downpour and a two-mile ride, I began to wonder
whether the ancient capital of Japan was such a fascinating study as my
friends had promised.
For all that, I crawled in, and my stoical friend began to arrange me
with a tenderness of which his face betrayed no sign. He drew a leather
robe over my lap, tucked it in to keep out the least intruding drop
of rain, drew the top of the carriage completely over and shut me in,
much after the way in which my grandmother used to draw her sunbonnet
over her face. Everything was dark and mysterious, and had I been of
a nervous temperament there would have been much to terrify. I began
to wonder how the rest of the party was getting on; but the blind
faith that there was a _jinrikisha_ somewhere back of me could not be
confirmed until I had reached the end.
[Illustration]
I could feel small streams of water trickling down my neck, and pools
gathered in the bottom of the carriage. It began to splash into my
face and hands; the wind came pouring in, and a blast occasionally
unloosened my lap robe. I was surrounded by impenetrable darkness,
with the exception of a small aperture below, where I caught sight of
a pair of uncovered legs automatically moving. I divined that these
were the property of the gentleman who had arranged me in my present
position with such extreme solicitude, and whose spirit would have been
keenly pained had he known that so large a portion of the storm was
finding its way into the carriage. His utter disregard of himself had
a suggestion of the sublime; for, though the day was cold, he had on
hardly more than a covering of straw, and his bare feet went through
the mud and pools with the utmost indifference. I learned afterward
that his limited wardrobe was not so real as apparent, and that his
appearance that afternoon was caused not so much by poverty as by
pride; for this _jinrikisha_ man occupied an enviable position among
his fellows, and had reason to consider himself a favourite of fortune.
This is all explained when I tell you that he was the haughty possessor
of a pair of European trousers. It mattered little to him that these
might have been thrown aside by some more fastidious American, or that
the style might have been a little behind the time. They were the chief
glory of his life,--and the chief torment too. No one can say how much
his melancholy aspect was caused by the fact that fate had heaped such
bountiful favours and grave responsibilities on his head,--for he lived
under the constant fear that some day he might wear these trousers out.
And so, with the true Japanese spirit of economy, he had hit upon an
excellent plan against such a contingency,--he resolved not to wear
them at all.
[Illustration]
This unconscious humourist furnished the only diversion of the ride.
Doubtless I passed through many delightful scenes, and might have
caught many charming bits of Japanese rural life. I shall never know
how those tea-fields looked in that pouring rain, and the plodding
Orientals that must have passed are a sealed picture. I could
occasionally hear the tall trees swaying and scraping together in the
cold breeze, but they were not for the eye. All that I could see was
a small square of mud and water, and the mournful movement of the
untrousered legs below. These were very instructive as object-lessons
in domestic economy, but I would have preferred to have enough
landscape to set them off to better advantage. Such an interesting
thing, however, was enough in itself to keep my spirit up, and I
thoroughly enjoyed the ride, in spite of the many things I could not
see. My faithful friend unconsciously kept up a stock of that good
humour which was soon to be called into play; for when we had reached
the hotel where we were to spend the night, the guide came gloomily
towards us and made the announcement that the house was full, and that
we would be obliged to find some other place. He said that he had
succeeded in finding a small Japanese house near by, and that this was
the best that could be done.
It was still raining hard, the night was getting dark, and there was
nothing for us to do but to take what we could get; and I do not know
that we regretted it after all. The approach to the house was not
convenient, but the place itself was of the true Japanese daintiness:
a tiny affair, with but one story, the earthquakes having been duly
considered in its erection. It contained but two rooms, and resembled
more a child’s play-house than a dwelling. It was furnished with the
ever-present white mats that are so prominent a feature of Japanese
domestic life. We decided to conform ourselves to our surroundings, and
be distinctively Japanese. So, carefully removing our shoes, we sat
down on our heels, while the guide departed to see what could be found
to eat. This oriental posture is very interesting as an experiment,
but I would not advise you to let your enthusiasm carry you too far.
If you have spent hours on the floor with a child playing with paper
dolls, you can get a good idea of what it is like. Our first intention
was to spend the whole evening in this way, and in other respects to
do as the Japanese did, but we soon found that the effect was mainly
valuable as furnishing a few jokes to enliven the conversation. And
when we thought of eating our dinner after the fashion of the best
Japanese society, we again became irresolute, and were greatly relieved
when one of the little _musmees_ returned with American dishes and
American chairs. Thereafter we let our attendants look after the honour
of Japan. They amused us during the progress of the meal by tying and
untying their sashes,--their chief feminine vanity,--and by indulging
in the endless capers and familiarities permitted to the _musmee_
alone. The evening passed rapidly and gaily, and the wind and rain were
forgotten in the Japanese dreams that followed the artless speeches and
childish pranks of our little entertainers.
[Illustration: Tying and untying their Sashes.]
A soft, grey light came streaming through the paper panes, and in my
drowsy ears I heard the chatter of the _musmees_, telling us that it
was morning, and time to be on our way. The storm was not entirely
over, though it was indulging in a momentary pause. The water was
dripping from the trees, only waiting for the sunlight to pierce
through the heavy clouds to clothe every leaf with sparkling gems.
The sky had an air of indefiniteness and unconcern, in doubt whether
to repeat its performance of the day before, or to burst forth into
that splendour with which we were more familiar. There was nothing
lacking but this for a perfect day; the wind had worn itself out
during the night, the atmosphere was assuming a more oriental
gentleness, the flowers were fresh and bright, and our hearts were full
of gay anticipation. We had little time during the day and evening
previous to think of one great predominant fact: that we were at the
far-famed city of Southern Japan, warm with tradition and beauty, its
history alive with the early tales of a struggling people, its temples
and shrines aglow with much that is finest in human sentiment.
[Illustration]
We were surprised at our breakfast by the hurried entrance of our
guide. He was a man of considerable refinement and composure, and we
were therefore taken aback at the excitement that he now displayed.
With bated breath he explained to us that the unforeseen had happened,
though whether this was a matter of congratulation his demeanour
did not make clear. If you are familiar enough with the mixture of
reverence and love with which the Japanese regard their dowager
Empress, you will readily understand the agitation of our guide. She
is an exalted being, the wife of one Mikado and the mother of another,
and is besides a most estimable woman with lovable qualities of her
own. So when the guide learned that she was at the present time at Nara
and would be there for the rest of the day, his emotions of loyalty
and awe had a sudden inspiration, and there was nothing for him to
do but to try to communicate them to us. After we had satisfied him
that we were duly impressed by the situation, he consented to descend
to particulars. One of the most ancient ceremonies at Nara is the
sacred dance which is yearly given in the adjoining grounds of one of
the temples, and at which some member of the royal family is expected
to be present. That her Majesty should select the very day that we
had appointed to visit the place can only be considered as a happy
coincidence of fate. Preparations had been going on for many days, and
everything was ready for a most elaborate performance. At this point
the guide became somewhat mysterious, and began to hint that possibly
after the royal party had finished we might persuade the priests to
repeat the dance for our benefit. Of course we were duly shocked
that any such thing should be done, but we smothered our reverential
emotions, and decided to make the attempt. I all along suspected that
our friend had completed arrangements before he had spoken to us, but
he betrayed no evidence of this in his anxiety lest his plan should
fail. To confess the truth, I did not feel quite at ease over the
matter, for the Empress had been painted to me in a rather unpleasant
light, and I was very much afraid of offending her royal pride. I had
been told that she regarded foreigners with an unfriendly eye, and was
jealous of the innovations that were creeping in from the West, and
gradually making the real Japan a thing of the past. It was said that
she looked upon the European costume as a thing to be abhorred, and the
silk hat as a sign of barbarism. Particularly, my friends had been kind
enough to inform me that she regarded the American race as a peculiarly
unpleasant growth, and one to be tolerated by no respectable Japanese.
Though I discovered later that my information was wrong, the thought
sufficed to make me uncomfortable, and I felt that to intrude upon a
ceremony intended only for the royal eye, was audacious and indelicate.
The assurance of the guide that this had been done before did not mend
the matter, and I had some twinges of conscience as I stepped into the
_jinrikisha_ awaiting to conduct me to the temple grounds.
As we rode out of the court-yard, we observed an interested throng
gathered around an equipage of a kind somewhat difficult to classify.
Had we seen it in an American city we should have taken it for a
dilapidated victoria; but it was hard to determine what connection such
a disreputable affair could have with the mother of the Mikado. The
whole thing, from the ragged upholstering to the rickety wheels, had a
most unroyal appearance. The small, shaggy horse may have been having a
good time, but he failed to reveal it by any expression of contentment.
The coachman, however, managed to extract much satisfaction from the
situation. He had the bristling, black hair so characteristic of the
people, and on the back of this he wore a small, low-crowned derby hat,
gracefully cocked on one side, with an air of great self-satisfaction.
His dress was the not uncommon combination of Japanese _kimono_ and
European trousers, the latter being carefully creased, and turned up to
display his American shoes. His studied attempt to appear dignified was
made the more amusing by the shortness of his stature; but the crowd
was not amused. The Japanese take this sort of thing seriously, and the
only emotions their faces displayed before this cosmopolitan outburst
were those of envy and admiration. When my attendant informed me that
this was the equipage provided for the first lady of Japan, I began to
suspect that her reported dislike of western civilisation was unreal.
I told the _jinrikisha_ man to hurry on before she came out, as I was
anxious to escape her observation.
[Illustration]
We entered the temple-grounds by a long avenue arched over by tall
cryptomerias, which extended in a tangled forest on either side.
Through the wistaria vines, almost as dense as a jungle, occasional
glimpses of the sky could be seen. There was little sunshine, and the
morning had the air of twilight. The avenue extended in a long and
regular line ahead, and seemed a fitting entrance to the most sacred
shrine of Japan. A gentle touch was given the whole scene by a number
of tame deer that find safe abode in these forests, where the hunter
is unknown. As they came up to us and looked into our faces with their
large, confiding eyes, they were followed by a troop of little girls
who had cakes to sell, of which the animals were very fond. Little was
said, for we all felt that we were in a sacred atmosphere, and the
quieting influence of the past was beginning to steal over us. The
endless array of those famous stone lanterns, ranged on both sides of
the avenue, was a fitting suggestion of former glory; the days of many
of these had long gone by, and they were slowly crumbling in ruins. We
were told by our guide that occasionally one was lighted, but most of
them had been extinct for years. Before us we could see the pavilion
where the dance was to take place. It was a simple roof supported by
columns, its floor the mat-covered earth. The priests were walking
around in their stately white robes and fly-screen shaped hats, with
little priestesses by their side. We had abandoned our _jinrikishas_ on
entering the grove, and now walked slowly along, thinking of nothing
but the trees, the stone lanterns, the deer, and the general beauty of
the scene. Even the Empress had been forgotten, until, happening to
glance back, I was startled to see the royal carriage with the sedate
coachman on the seat, ambling along at a leisurely Japanese gait. A few
seconds later it stopped, and the Empress and her retinue alighted,
with the apparent intention of doing the rest of the journey on foot.
Wishing to avoid observation, we quickly stepped behind one of the
stone lanterns at a turn of the road. Unfortunately we were not quick
enough, or the glance of her Majesty was too keen, for our presence and
hurried movement did not escape her. As she slowly passed we had a good
opportunity to observe her closely, and in spite of the disagreeable
stories we had heard, the impression was not an unfavourable one. She
was apparently seventy years of age, with an intelligent and kindly
face, having by no means the severe demeanour we had been led to
expect. She was dressed in the old-time Japanese style, with bright
red skirt and white satin _kimono_. Her hair was arranged in a kind
of a halo, falling down her shoulders in the back. All the ladies in
her train were dressed in a similar style, but the men were attired
after the European fashion,--in the prevailing court costume. The
chamberlain of the household department, an elderly man, was in charge
of affairs. As the procession neared our place of vantage, it turned
to the right in the direction of the Temple-grounds. We were about to
congratulate ourselves that we were to escape unseen, when her Majesty
turned completely around and subjected us to a scrutiny that was
embarrassing, however kindly meant. I bowed with a reverence that would
have done credit to the most obsequious Oriental, and at the same time
the men of the party lifted their hats in approved occidental style.
The ladies and gentlemen of the royal retinue returned our greetings
with a politeness that rivalled our own, but the Empress did not
incline her body in the least. She continued gazing at us with the same
puzzled expression, yet with no indication of displeasure. Apparently
satisfied with what she had seen, she presently passed on. The few
moments had been embarrassing for us, for we did not know of how many
breaches of propriety we might have been guilty; and our salutations
had not been without a touch of penitence as well as respect.
The Empress had hardly disappeared when one of the priests, with
long robes waving in the wind, came running towards us. We were now
confident that he had some message from the Empress, and were fearful
that the long-expected dislike of foreigners was to be shown. This
idea could hardly have been gained from the priest’s face, however, as
it betrayed no evidence of offended dignity, though there were signs
of anxiety and surprise. He paid no attention to us, but immediately
engaged our guide in an earnest conversation, the conclusion of which
we waited with some apprehension. Finally our attendant turned and
spoke to us in the following surprising terms,--
“Her Majesty has learned with pleasure that you have come so far to see
the sacred dance, and is very glad that you have happened here the
same day as herself. She is very unwilling, however, that you should be
kept standing while she witnesses the performance, but thinks that you
should be treated with all the kindness and hospitality of Japan. She
has therefore sent one of the priests to bid you greeting, and offers
you the seats that have been prepared for herself and party; and she
will feel very much offended if you do not accept.”
These words affected us with mingled feelings of astonishment,
flattery, and embarrassment. We had heard much of the politeness of
the Japanese, but here was a unique expression of it; one could hardly
receive more. And what had become of the dislike for foreigners which
I had been told was so prominent a trait in her character? We were
somewhat in doubt as to what was the right thing to do, and stood
there gazing at each other for a few moments, waiting for some one to
take the initiative.
“I hope you will thank her Majesty for us,” I finally answered, “but
we could not think of taking her place at the dance. We can just as
conveniently wait until she has finished. We all, however, very deeply
feel her kindness.”
“Oh, but you must come--you must come,” hurriedly returned the guide,
dropping a little of his formality in his fear that we would not
accept. “The Empress would not like it at all if you refused her
invitation. She says that she can see it at any time, but you have come
from far over the seas, and must see it to-day or never. You cannot
decline,--it would never do.”
Without considering the possibility of our refusal any further, he
and the priest immediately led the way. There was nothing for us to
do but to follow; and the faces of our Japanese friends were wreathed
in smiles as they saw that we had overcome our scruples. We were much
relieved on our arrival to find that the Empress and her train had gone
to the northern part of the temple to perform their devotions. However
much we would have liked to thank her in person, our acquaintance with
Japanese court etiquette was not such that we could know just how it
should be done. With a genuine oriental awe we seated ourselves in the
chairs that had been destined for the venerable Empress, and from the
cups made for nobler hands drank the tea that was meant for royal lips.
We soon found ourselves in a more comfortable frame of mind, and by the
time the dance had begun, we were in a condition to enjoy it.
There is not much variety in Japanese dancing, and that which we saw
on this occasion differed little from many similar performances we had
attended. There were five little girls, ranging from nine to twelve
years of age, dressed in the old imperial costume of red silk, with
divided skirts, the white _kimono_ being covered by another of gauze,
painted with purple wistaria. As usual, their faces were covered with
white plaster, their lips were of a bright carmine, and their eyebrows
shaved. Their hair, tied in gold paper, hung down their backs, and on
their foreheads were clusters of wistaria and white camellias. The
accompaniment was furnished by two priests, one performing on a kind
of fife, the other provided with two small sticks of wood, which he
struck together, at the same time that the chief priest delivered, in
a high-pitched voice, notes very suggestive of the Midway Plaisance.
The dancing consisted of the slow posturing that the Orientals so much
prefer to the agile movements of the West, and we had begun to catch
the spirit of it, and were able to enjoy it after the true Japanese
style.
We saw no more of the Empress who so disliked foreigners, but who could
treat them with such delicacy. We had another indication of her kindly
disposition, however, after we had left the pavilion at the conclusion
of the dance. Outside stood the sacred white horse always to be found
near these ancient temples, and one of the little girl attendants stood
by, selling the peculiar mixture which forms his only food. After I had
done my duty by the divine animal, I took the hand of the little girl,
who looked up into my eyes and said,--
“Her Majesty has just gone by. She was very gentle to me, and gave the
sacred horse many measures of grain.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]