AN EXCURSION TO DAI-BOOTS AND ENOSHIMA.
A favorite resort of the foreign residents of Yokohama during the summer
months is the island of Enoshima. It is about twenty miles away, and is
a noted place of pilgrimage for the Japanese, on account of certain
shrines that are reputed to have a sacred character. Doctor Bronson
arranged that his party should pay a visit to this island, as it was an
interesting spot, and they could have a glimpse of Japanese life in the
rural districts, and among the fishermen of the coast.
They went thither by jin-riki-shas, and arranged to stop on the way to
see the famous bronze statue of Dai-Boots, or the Great Buddha. This
statue is the most celebrated in all Japan, as it is the largest and
finest in every way. Frank had heard and read about it; and when he
learned from the Doctor that they were to see it on their way to
Enoshima, he ran straightway to Fred to tell the good news.
"Just think of it, Fred," said he, "we are to see a statue sixty feet
high, all of solid bronze, and a very old one it is, too."
"Sixty feet isn't so very much," Fred answered. "There are statues in
Europe a great deal larger."
"But they were not made by the Japanese, as this one was," Frank
responded, "and they are statues of figures standing erect, while this
represents a sitting figure. A sitting figure sixty feet high is
something you don't see every day."
Fred admitted that there might be some ground for Frank's enthusiasm,
and, in fact, he was not long in sharing it, and thinking it was a very
good thing that they were going to Enoshima, and intending to see
Dai-Boots on the way.
At the appointed time they were off. They went through the foreign part
of Yokohama, and through the native quarter, and then out upon the
Tokaido. The boys were curious to see the Tokaido, and when they reached
it they asked the Doctor to halt the jin-riki-shas, and let them press
their feet upon the famous work of Japanese road-builders. The halt
was made, and gave a few minutes' rest to the men that were drawing
them, and from whose faces the perspiration was running profusely.
The Tokaido, or eastern road, is the great highway that connects Kioto
with Tokio--the eastern capital with the western one. There is some
obscurity in its history, but there is no doubt of its antiquity. It has
been in existence some hundreds of years, and has witnessed many and
many a princely procession, and many a display of Oriental magnificence.
It was the road by which the Daimios of the western part of the empire
made their journeys to Tokio in the olden days, and it was equally the
route by which the cortége of the Shogoon went to Kioto to render homage
to the Mikado. It is a well-made road; but as it was built before the
days of wheeled carriages, and when a track where two men could ride
abreast was all that was considered requisite, it is narrower than most
of us would expect to find it. In many places it is not easy for two
carriages to pass without turning well out into the ditch, and there are
places on the great route where the use of wheeled vehicles is
impossible. But in spite of these drawbacks it is a fine road, and
abounds in interesting sights.
[Illustration: A VILLAGE ON THE TOKAIDO.]
Naturally the Tokaido is a place of activity, and in the ages that have
elapsed since it was made many villages have sprang into existence along
its sides. Between Yokohama and Tokio there is an almost continuous
hedge of these villages, and there are places where you may ride for
miles as along a densely filled street. From Tokio the road follows the
shore of the bay until near Yokohama, when it turns inland; but it comes
to or near the sea again in several places, and affords occasional
glimpses of the great water. For several years after the admission of
foreigners to Japan the Tokaido gave a great deal of trouble to the
authorities, and figured repeatedly in the diplomatic history of the
government. The most noted of these affairs was that in which an
Englishman named Richardson was killed, and the government was forced to
pay a heavy indemnity in consequence. A brief history of this affair may
not be without interest, as it will illustrate the difficulties that
arose in consequence of a difference of national customs.
Under the old laws of Japan it was the custom for the Daimios to have a
very complete right of way whenever their trains were out upon the
Tokaido or any other road. If any native should ride or walk into a
Daimio's procession, or even attempt anything of the kind, he would be
put to death immediately by the attendants of the prince. This was the
invariable rule, and had been in force for hundreds of years. When the
foreigners first came to Yokohama, the Daimios' processions were
frequently on the road; and, as the strangers had the right to go into
the country, and consequently to ride on the Tokaido, there was a
constant fear that some of them would ignorantly or wilfully violate the
ancient usages and thus lead the Daimios' followers to use their swords.
[Illustration: A PARTY ON THE TOKAIDO.]
Things were in this condition when one day (September 14th, 1862) the
procession of Shimadzu Saburo, father of the last Daimio of Satsuma, was
passing along the Tokaido on its way from the capital to the western
part of the empire. Through fear of trouble in case of an encounter with
the train of this prince, the authorities had previously requested
foreigners not to go upon the Tokaido that day; but the request was
refused, and a party of English people--three gentlemen and a
lady--embraced the opportunity to go out that particular afternoon to
meet the prince's train. Two American gentlemen were out that afternoon,
and encountered the same train; they politely turned aside to allow the
procession to pass, and were not disturbed.
When the English party met the train, the lady and one of the gentlemen
suggested that they should stand at the side of the road, but Mr.
Richardson urged his horse forward and said, "Come on; I have lived
fourteen years in China, and know how to manage these people." He rode
into the midst of the procession, and was followed by the other
gentlemen, or partially so; the lady, in her terror, remained by the
side of the road, as she had wished to do at the outset. The guards
construed the movements of Mr. Richardson as a direct insult to their
master, and fell upon him with their swords. The three men were severely
wounded. Mr. Richardson died in less than half an hour, but the others
recovered. The lady was not harmed in any way. On the one hand, the
Japanese were a proud, haughty race who resented an insult to their
prince, and punished it according to Japanese law and custom. On the
other, the foreigners had the technical right, in accordance with the
treaty, to go upon the Tokaido; but they offered a direct insult to the
people in whose country they were, and openly showed their contempt for
them. A little forbearance, and a willingness to avoid trouble by
refraining from visiting the Tokaido, as requested by the Japanese
authorities, would have prevented the sad occurrence.
As a result of this affair, the Japanese government was compelled to pay
a hundred thousand pounds sterling to the family of Mr. Richardson, or
submit to the alternative of a war with England. In addition to this,
the city of Kagoshima, the residence of the Prince of Satsuma, was
bombarded, the place reduced to ashes, forts, palaces, factories, thrown
into ruins, and thousands of buildings set on fire by the shells from
the British fleet. Three steamers belonging to the Prince of Satsuma
were captured, and the prince was further compelled to pay an additional
indemnity of twenty-five thousand pounds. The loss of life in the affair
has never been made known by the Japanese, but it is certain to have
been very great. It would not be surprising if the Japanese should
entertain curious notions of the exact character of the Christian
religion, when such acts are perpetrated by the nations that profess it.
The blessings of civilization have been wafted to them in large
proportion from the muzzles of cannon; and the light of Western
diplomacy has been, all too frequently, from the torch of the
incendiary.
But we must not forget our boys in our dissertation on the history of
foreign intervention in Japan. In fact, they were not forgotten in it,
as they heard the story from the Doctor's lips, and heard a great deal
more besides. The Doctor summarized his opinion of the way the Japanese
had been treated by foreigners somewhat as follows:
[Illustration: BEGINNING OF RELATIONS BETWEEN ENGLAND AND JAPAN.]
"The Japanese had been exclusive for a long time, and wished to continue
so. They had had an experience of foreign relations two hundred years
ago, and the result had well-nigh cost them their independence. It was
unsatisfactory, and they chose to shut themselves up and live alone. If
we wanted to shut up the United States, and admit no foreigners among
us, we should consider it a matter of great rudeness if they forced
themselves in, and threatened to bombard us when we refused them
admittance. We were the first to poke our noses into Japan, when we sent
Commodore Perry here with a fleet. The Japanese tried their best to
induce us to go away and let them alone, but we wouldn't go. We stood
there with the copy of the treaty in one hand, and had the other
resting on a cannon charged to the muzzle and ready to fire. We said,
'Take the one or the other; sign a treaty of peace and good-will and
accept the blessings of civilization, or we will blow you so high in the
air that the pieces won't come down for a week.' Japan was convinced
when she saw that resistance would be useless, and quite against her
wishes she entered the family of nations. We opened the way and then
England followed, and then came the other nations. We have done less
robbing and bullying than England has, in our intercourse with Japan,
and the Japanese like us better in consequence. But if it is a correct
principle that no man should be disturbed so long as he does not disturb
any one else, and does no harm, the outside nations had no right to
interfere with Japan, and compel her to open her territory to them."
[Illustration: PILGRIMS ON THE ROAD.]
This conversation occurred while they were halted under some venerable
shade-trees by the side of the Tokaido, and were looking at the people
that passed. Every few minutes they saw groups varying from two to six
or eight persons, very thinly clad, and having the appearance of
wayfarers with a small stock of money, or none at all. The Doctor
explained that these men were pilgrims on their way to holy places--some
of them were doubtless bound for Enoshima, some for Hakone, and some for
the great mountain which every now and then the turns in the road
revealed to the eyes of the travellers. These pilgrimages have a
religious character, and are made by thousands of persons every year.
One member of a party usually carries a small bell, and as they walk
along its faint tinkle gives notice of their religious character, and
practically warns others that they are not commercially inclined, as
they are without more money than is actually needed for the purposes of
their journey. They wear broad hats to protect them from the sun, and
their garments, usually of white material, are stamped with mystic
characters to symbolize the particular divinity in whose honor the
journey is made.
[Illustration: THRESHING GRAIN.]
Village after village was passed by our young adventurers and their
older companion, and many scenes of Japanese domestic life were unfolded
to their eyes. At one place some men were engaged in removing the hulls
from freshly gathered rice. The grain was in large tubs, made of a
section of a tree hollowed out, and the labor was performed by beating
the grain with huge mallets. The process was necessarily slow, and
required a great deal of patience. This mode of hulling rice has been in
use in Japan for hundreds of years, and will probably continue for
hundreds of years to come in spite of the improved machinery that is
being introduced by foreigners. Rice is the principal article of food
used in Japan, and many people have hardly tasted anything else in the
whole course of their lives. The opening of the foreign market has
largely increased the cost of rice; and in this way the entrance of
Japan into the family of nations has brought great hardships upon the
laboring classes. It costs three times as much for a poor man to support
his family as it did before the advent of the strangers, and there has
not been a corresponding advance in wages. Life for the coolie was bad
enough under the old form of government, and he had much to complain of.
His condition has not been bettered by the new order of things,
according to the observation of impartial foreigners who reside in
Yokohama and other of the open ports.
[Illustration: PEASANT AND HIS WIFE RETURNING FROM THE FIELD.]
About ten miles out from Yokohama the party turned from the Tokaido, and
took a route through the fields. They found the track rather narrow in
places; and on one occasion, when they met a party in jin-riki-shas, it
became necessary to step to the ground to allow the vehicles to be
lifted around. Then, too, there had been a heavy rain--the storm that
cut short their visit to Tokio; and in some places the road had been
washed out so that they were obliged to walk around the breaks. Their
journey was consequently somewhat retarded; but they did not mind the
detention, and had taken such an early start that they had plenty of
time to reach Enoshima before dark. They met groups of Japanese peasants
returning home from their work; and in every instance the latter made
way for the strangers, and stood politely by the roadside as the
man-power carriages went rolling by. Frank wanted to make sketches of
some of the groups, and was particularly attracted by a woman who was
carrying a teapot in one hand and a small roll or bundle under her other
arm. By her side walked a man carrying a couple of buckets slung from a
pole, after the fashion so prevalent in Japan and China. He steadied the
pole with his hands, and seemed quite indifferent to the presence of the
foreigners. Both were dressed in loosely fitting garments, and their
feet were shod with sandals of straw. The Japanese sandal is held in
place by two thongs that start from near the heel on each side and come
together in front. The wearer inserts the thong between the great toe
and its neighbor. When he is barefooted this operation is easily
performed; and, in order to accommodate his stockinged feet to the
sandal, the Japanese stocking has a separate place for the "thumb-toe,"
as one of them called the largest of his "foot-fingers." The foot of the
Japanese stocking closely resembles the mitten of America, which young
women in certain localities are said to present to discarded admirers.
[Illustration: A JAPANESE SANDAL.]
The road wound among the fields where the rice was growing luxuriantly,
and where now and then they found beans and millet, and other products
of Japanese agriculture. The cultivation was evidently of the most
careful character, as the fields were cut here and there with little
channels for irrigation; and there were frequent deposits of fertilizing
materials, whose character was apparent to the nose before it was to the
eye. In some places, where the laborers were stooping to weed the
plants, there was little more of them visible than their broad sun-hats;
and it did not require a great stretch of the imagination to believe
they were a new kind of mushroom from Brobdingnagian gardens. Hills like
sharply rounded cones rose from each side of the narrow valley they were
descending; and the dense growth of wood with which the most of them
were covered made a marked contrast to the thoroughly cleared fields.
The boys saw over, and over, and over again the pictures they had often
seen on Japanese fans and boxes and wondered if they were realities.
They had already learned that the apparently impossible pictures we find
in Japanese art are not only possible, but actual; but they had not yet
seen so thorough a confirmation of it as on this day's ride.
Several times they came suddenly upon villages, and very often these
discoveries were quite unexpected. As they rode along the valley
narrowed, and the hills became larger and more densely covered with
trees. By-and-by they halted at a wayside tea-house, and were told to
leave the little carriages and rest awhile. Frank protested that he was
not in need of any rest; but he changed his mind when the Doctor told
him that they had reached one of the objects of their journey, and that
he would miss an interesting sight if he kept on. They were at the
shrine of Dai-Boots.
They went up an avenue between two rows of trees, and right before them
was the famous statue. It was indeed a grand work of art.
Frank made a careful note of the figures indicating the height of the
statue. He found that the whole structure, including the pedestal,
measured sixty feet from the ground to the top of the head, and that the
figure alone was forty-three feet high. It was in a sitting, or rather a
squatting, posture, with the hands partly folded and turned upwards,
with the knuckles touching each other. The eyes were closed, and there
was an expression of calm repose on the features such as one rarely sees
in statuary. There was something very grand and impressive in this
towering statue, and the boys gazed upon it with unfeigned admiration.
[Illustration: THE GREAT DAI-BOOTS.]
Fred asked if the statue was cast in a single piece. But after asking
the question, he looked up and saw that the work was evidently done in
sections, as the lines where the plates or sections were joined were
plainly visible. But the plates were large, and the operation of making
the statue was one that required the handling of some very heavy pieces.
In many places the statue was covered with inscriptions, which are said
to be of a religious character.
The figure was hollow, and there was a sort of chapel inside where
devout pilgrims were permitted to worship. On the platform in front
there were several shrines, and the general surroundings of the place
were well calculated to remind one of a sanctuary of Roman Catholicism.
Thousands and thousands of pilgrims have come from all parts of Japan to
worship at the feet of the great Buddha; and while our friends stood in
front of the shrine, a group of devotees arrived and reverently said
their prayers.
A little way off from Dai-Boots are the temples of Kamakura, which are
celebrated for their sanctity, and are the objects of much veneration.
They are not unlike the other temples of Japan in general appearance;
but the carvings and bronze ornamentations are unusually rich, and must
have cost a great deal of money. There was once a large city at
Kamakura, and traces of it are distinctly visible. The approach to the
temples is over some stone bridges, crossing a moat that must have been
a formidable defence in the days before gunpowder was introduced into
warfare.
After their sight-seeing in the grove of Dai-Boots was over, the party
proceeded to Enoshima. When they arrived at the sea-shore opposite the
island, they found, to their dismay, that the tide was up; and they were
obliged to hire a boat to take them to their destination. At low tide
one can walk upon a sand-bar the entire distance; but when the sea is at
its highest, the bar is covered, and walking is not practicable. The
beach slopes very gradually, and consequently the boats were at some
distance out, and the travellers were compelled to wade to them or be
carried on men's shoulders. The boys tried the wading, and were
successful; the Doctor, more dignified, was carried on the shoulders of
a stout Japanese, who was very glad of the opportunity to earn a few
pennies. But he came near having a misadventure, as his bearer stumbled
when close to the edge of the boat, and pitched the Doctor headlong into
the craft. He was landed among a lot of baskets and other baggage, and
his hat came in unpleasant contact with a bucket containing some freshly
caught fish. Luckily he suffered no injury, and was able to join the
others in laughing over the incident.
On their arrival at the island, it was again necessary to wade to the
shore. Frank found the slippery rocks such insecure footing that he went
down into the water, but was not completely immersed. The others got
ashore safely, and it was unanimously voted that the next time they came
to Enoshima they would endeavor to arrive when the tide was out. An
involuntary bath, before one is properly dressed, or undressed, for it,
is no more to be desired in Japan than in any other country.
[Illustration: SALUTATION OF THE LANDLORD.]
A street leads up from the water towards the centre of the island, and
along this street are the principal houses of the town. The most of
these houses are hotels for the accommodation of the numerous pilgrims
that come to the sacred shrines of Enoshima; and, as our party
approached, there was a movement among the attendants of the nearest
hostelry to invite the strangers to enter. They halted at the door of a
large building on the left. The proprietor was just inside the entrance,
and bowed to them in true Japanese style, with his head touching the
floor. He not only bowed to the party in general, but to each one of
them separately, and it took two or three minutes to go through with the
preliminaries of politeness and begin negotiations for the desired
accommodations.
In a little while all was arranged to the satisfaction of everybody
concerned, and our friends were installed in a Japanese inn. What they
did there, and what they saw, will be made known in the next chapter.
[Illustration: THE HEAD WAITER RECEIVING ORDERS.]