From Pole to Pole: A Book for Young People — Sec 13 Japan

NAGASAKI AND KOBE

Marco Polo was also the first European to make Japan known in Western countries.

He called it Chipangu, and stated that it was a large, rich island in the sea east of China.

Accordingly the Chinese call it the "Land of the Rising Sun," and Nippon, as the Japanese themselves call their islands, has the same poetical signification, derived from the rising of the sun out of the waves of the Pacific Ocean.

The flag of Japan displays a red sun on a white field, and when it flies from the masts of warships the sun is surrounded by sixteen red rays.

We leave Shanghai by the fine steamer _Tenyo Maru_, which is driven by turbines and makes 18 knots an hour.

The _Tenyo Maru_ belongs to a line which plies between Hong-kong and San Francisco, calling at Shanghai, Japan, and the Sandwich Islands on the way.

From Shanghai it is 470 miles over the Eastern Sea to Nagasaki, a considerable town situated on Kiu-shiu, the southernmost of the four islands of Japan proper.

As we near Japan the vessel crosses the great current called the "Kuro Shiwo," or the "Black Salt."

It comes from the region immediately north of the equator, and flows northwards, washing the Japanese coast with its water, over 200 fathoms deep, and with a temperature of 72°, just as the Gulf Stream washes the east coast of Europe.

Off Japan the sea is very deep, the lead sinking down to 4900 fathoms and more.

In Nagasaki the visitor is astonished at the great shipbuilding yards and docks; they are the largest in Asia, and the _Tenyo Maru_, as well as other ships as big, have been, for the most part at any rate, built here.

It is hard to believe that it is only forty years since the Japanese took to European civilization and the inventions of Western lands.

In many respects they have surpassed their teachers.

[Illustration: MAP SHOWING JOURNEY FROM SHANGHAI THROUGH JAPAN AND KOREA TO DALNY (pp. 185-202).

] After a whole day in Nagasaki we steam out to sea again and make northwards round Kiu-shiu to the beautiful narrow strait at Shimonoseki which leads to the Inland Sea.

Unfortunately it is pitch dark when we pass Admiral Togo's fleet.

He has just been engaged in manoeuvres with eighty-five of Japan's two hundred modern warships.

In sea-power Japan is the fifth nation of the world, and is only surpassed by England, Germany, America, and France.

A large number of their warships were captured from Russia during the war, and afterwards refitted and re-christened with Japanese names.

On a peace footing the land army of Japan contains 250,000 men and 11,000 officers.

In time of war, when all the reservists and landwehr troops are called out, the strength amounts to a million and a half; 120,000 men yearly are called out for active service.

The Japanese make any sacrifice when it is a question of the defence of their fatherland.

To them affection for Nippon is a religion.

The area of Japan is about half as large again as that of the British Islands, and the population is, roughly, a quarter more.

But if the recently acquired parts of the mainland, Korea and Kwan-tung, be included, 77,000 square miles must be added and the population increased to 65 millions.

Early on the morning of November 9 we pass through the strait of Shimonoseki into the Inland Sea, the Mediterranean of Japan, which lies between the islands Hondo, Kiu-shiu, and Shikoku.

The scenery which unfolds itself on all sides is magnificent, and is constantly changing.

Close around us, away over the open passages and in among the dark islands, is the clear, green, salt water, edged with foaming surf and dotted with picturesque fishing-boats under full sail; and as a frame to the gently heaving sea we have the innumerable islands--some large, some small, some wooded, others bare, but all sloping steeply to the shore, where the breakers thunder eternally.

A pleasant breeze is felt on the promenade deck of the _Tenyo Maru_, the air is fresh and pure, the day bright and cheerful, and from sea and coast comes a curious mixed odour of salt brine and pine needles.

At dusk we cast anchor in the roadstead of Kobe, where the _Tenyo Maru_ has to remain for twenty-four hours in order to take cargo on board.

A

launch takes us to the busy town, and we determine to spend the night on shore in a genuine Japanese hotel.

At the entrance we are met by the landlord, in a garment like a petticoat and a thin mantle with short hanging sleeves.

Two small waiting-maids take off our shoes and put a pair of slippers on our feet.

We go up a narrow wooden staircase and along a passage with a brightly polished wooden floor.

Outside a sliding door we take off our slippers and enter in stocking feet.

Cleanliness is the first rule in a Japanese house, and it would be thought inexcusable to enter a room in shoes which had lately been in the dust and dirt of the lanes and streets.

Our rooms are divided from one another by partitions of paper or the thinnest veneer, which can be partially drawn aside so that the rooms may be thrown into one.

Here and there mottoes are inscribed on hanging shields, and we see that they are written in the same singular characters as are used in China.

On one wall hangs a _kakemono_, or a long strip of paper with flowers painted in water-colours.

On a small carved wooden stool below the painting stands a dwarf tree scarcely two feet in height.

It is a cherry-tree which has been prevented from growing to its full size, but it is a real, living tree, perhaps twenty years old, and exactly like an ordinary cherry-tree, only so small that it might have come from Lilliput.

The floor is laid with mats of rice straw with black borders.

Each mat is 6 feet long and 3 wide, and when a house is built the areas of the rooms are always calculated in a certain number of mats; thus a room of six mats is spoken of, or one of eight mats.

Not infrequently the rooms are so small that three or even two mats will cover the floor.

We take our seats crossed-legged or on our heels on small, square, down cushions, the only furniture to be seen.

A young Japanese maiden, also in stocking feet, enters and places a stove in the middle of our circle.

There is no fireplace.

This stove is shaped like a flower-pot, made of thick metal, and is filled with fine white ashes.

The young woman builds the ashes up into a cone like the summit of Fujiyama and lays fresh glowing charcoal against it.

Instead of tongs she uses a pair of small iron rods.

Bedsteads are not used in Japan, and the bedding, which consists of thick padded quilts of rustling silk, is simply spread out on the mats on the floor.

All the service and attendance is performed by women.

They are dressed in their becoming and tasteful national costume, the "kimono," a close-fitting coloured garment, cut out round the neck, a broad sash of cloth round the waist, and a large rosette like a cushion at the back.

Their hair is jet black, smooth, and shiny, and is arranged in tresses that look as if they were carved in ebony.

Japanese women are always clean, neat, and dainty, and it is vain to look for a speck of dust on a silken cuff.

If they did not giggle sometimes, you might think that they were dolls of wax or china.

They are treated like princesses with the greatest politeness and consideration, for such is the custom of the country.

They do their work conscientiously, and are always cheerful, contented, and friendly.

[Illustration: PLATE XIX.

A JAPANESE RICKSHA.

] We sit down on our cushions for breakfast.

The serving-girls bring in a small red-lacquered table, not larger or higher than a footstool.

Every guest has his own table, and on each are five cups, bowls, and small dishes of porcelain and lacquer, all of them with lids like teapots.

These contain raw fish and boiled fish in various forms, omelettes and macaroni, crab soup with asparagus in it, and many other strange viands.

When we have partaken of the first five dishes, another table is brought in with fresh dishes; and if it is a great banquet, as many as four or five such tables may be placed before one before the dinner is over.

We eat with two chopsticks of wood or ivory not larger than a penholder, drink pale, weak tea without sugar and cream, and a kind of weak rice spirit called _saké_.

When a bowl of steaming rice cooked dry is brought in, it is a sign that the meal is ended.

* * * * * The streets of Kobe are not paved.

They are narrow roads, too narrow for the large, clumsy vehicles, which are, however, few in number, and are mostly used for the transport of goods.

The people ride in "rickshas"--neat, smart, two-wheeled gigs drawn by a running bare-legged man with a mushroom-shaped hat on his head (Plate XIX.

).

The road westwards along the coast runs through a succession of animated and busy villages, past open tea-houses and small country shops, homely, decorated wooden dwellings, temples, fields, and gardens.

Everything is small, neat, and well kept.

Each peasant cultivates his own property with care and affection, and the harvest from innumerable small plots constitutes the wealth of Japan.

It is impossible to drive fast along the narrow road, for we are always meeting waggons and two-wheeled carts, porters, and travellers.

At the "Beach of Dancing Girls" we stay a while under some old pine-trees.

Here people bathe in summer, while the children play among the trees.

But now in November it is cold rather than warm, and after a pleasant excursion we return to Kobe.

On the way we look into a Shinto temple erected to the memory of a hero who six hundred years ago fell in a battle in the neighbourhood.

In the temple court stands a large Russian cannon taken at Port Arthur, and also a part of the mast shot off the man-of-war _Mikasa_.

Buddhism was introduced into Japan in the sixth century A. D.

, and more than half the population of the country profess this religion.

The old faith of Japan, however, is Shintoism, to which about one-third of the people still belong.

The sun is worshipped as a principal god and the powers of nature are adored as divinities.

From the solar deity the imperial house derives its origin, and the Emperor is regarded with almost religious reverence.

Respect is also paid to the memory of departed heroes, as in China.

Of late Christianity has spread far and wide in Japan, and Christian churches are now numerous.

FUJIYAMA AND TOKIO

It is now November 11. During the night the _Tenyo Maru_ has passed out from Kobe into the Pacific Ocean, and is now steering north-east at a good distance from the coast of Hondo.

The sky is gloomy, and the desert of water around us is a monotonous steely-grey expanse in every direction.

The Mediterranean countries of Europe lie on the same parallel of latitude as Japan.

But Japan lies in the domain of the monsoons or periodical winds, and when these blow in summer from the ocean, they bring rain with them, while the winter, when the wind comes from the opposite direction, is fairly dry.

On the whole Japan is colder than the Mediterranean countries, but the difference in climate between the northern and southern parts is very great.

On the northern island, Yezo, the winter lasts quite seven months.

At noon Fujiyama[17] is first seen towards the north-east.

Nothing of the coast is visible, only the snowy summit of the mountain floating white above the sea.

Our course takes us straight towards it, and the imposing mountain becomes more distinct every quarter of an hour.

Now also the coast comes in sight as a dark line, but only the summit of the mountain is visible, a singularly regular flat cone.

The top looks as if it were cut off; that is the crater ring, for Fujiyama is a volcano, though it has been quiescent for the past two centuries.

The snowfields in the gullies stand out more and more clearly, but still only the summit is visible, floating as it were free above the earth, a vision among the clouds.

An hour later the whole contour comes into view and becomes sharper and sharper; and when we anchor off the shore the peak of Fujiyama rises right above us.

Fujiyama is the highest mountain in Japan, and the crater ring of the slumbering volcano is 12,395 feet above the surface of the Pacific Ocean.

Fujiyama is a holy mountain; the path up it is lined with small temples and shrines, and many pilgrims ascend to the top in summer when the snow has melted away.

It is the pride of Japan and the grandest object of natural beauty the country possesses (Plate XX.

).

It would be vain to try to enumerate all the objects on which the cone of Fujiyama has been represented from immemorial times.

It is always the same mountain with the truncated top--in silver and gold on the famous lacquered boxes, and on the rare choice silver and bronze caskets, on the valuable vases in cloisonne, on bowls, plaques, and dishes, on screens, parasols, everything.

[Illustration: PLATE XX.

FUJIYAMA.

] Painters also take a delight in devising various foregrounds to the white cone.

I once saw a book of a hundred pictures of Fujiyama, each with a new foreground.

Now the holy mountain was seen between the boughs of Japanese cedars, now between the tall trunks of trees, and again beneath their crowns.

Once more it appeared above a foaming waterfall, or over a quiet lake, where the peak was reflected in the water; or above a swinging bridge, a group of playing children, or between the masts of fishing-boats.

It peeped out through a temple gate or at the end of one of the streets of Tokio, between the ripening ears of a rice-field or the raised parasols of dancing girls.

Thus Fujiyama has become the symbol of everything that the name Nippon implies, and its peak is the first point which catches the rays of the rising sun at the dawn of day.

Singularly cold and pale the holy mountain stands out against the dark blue sky as we steer out again to sea in the moonlight night.

It is our last night on the long sea voyage from Bombay.

Close to starboard we have Oshima, the "great island," an active volcano with thin vapour floating above its flat summit; Japan has more than a hundred extinct and a score of still active volcanoes, and the country is also visited by frequent earthquakes.

On an average 1200 are counted in the year, most of them, however, quite insignificant.

Now and then, however, they are very destructive, carrying off thousands of victims, and it is on account of the earthquakes that the Japanese build their houses of wood and make them low.

In the early morning the _Tenyo Maru_ glides into the large inlet on which Yokohama and Tokio are situated.

Yokohama is an important commercial town, and is a port of call for a large number of steamboat lines from the four continents.

Its population is about 400,000, of whom 1000 are Europeans--merchants, consuls, and missionaries.

A few miles south-west of Yokohama is the fishing-village of Kamakura, which was for many centuries the capital of the Shoguns.

It has now little to show for its former greatness--at one time it was said to have over a million inhabitants--except the beautiful, colossal statue of Buddha, the Daibutsu (Plate XXI.

).

The figure, which is about 40 feet high, is cast in bronze, and dates from 1252. At the head of the bay lies Tokio, the capital, with over two million inhabitants.

Here are many palaces surrounded by fine parks, but the people live in small, neat, wooden houses, most of them with garden enclosures.

The grounds of the Japanese of rank are small masterpieces of taste and excellence.

It is a great relief to come out of the bustle and dust of the roads into these peaceful retreats, where small canals and brooks murmur among blocks of grey stone and where trees bend their crowns over arched bridges.

In Tokio the traveller can study both the old and the new Japan, There are museums of all kinds, picture galleries, schools, and a university organized on the European model.

There is also a geological institution where very accurate geological maps are compiled of the whole country, and where in particular all the phenomena connected with volcanoes and earthquakes are investigated.

In scientific inquiries the Japanese are on a par with Europeans.

In the art of war they perhaps excel white peoples.

In industrial undertakings they have appropriated all the inventions of our age, and in commerce they threaten to push their Western rivals out of Asia.

Not many years ago, for example, some Japanese went to Sweden to study the manufacture of those safety matches which strike only on the box.

Now they make safety matches themselves, and supply not only Japan but practically all the East.

At Kobe one can often see a whole mountain of wooden boxes containing matches, waiting for shipment to China and Korea.

So it is in all other branches of industry.

The Japanese travel to Europe and study the construction of turbines, railway carriages, telephones, and soon they can dispense with Europe and produce all they want themselves.

The present Emperor of Japan, Mutsuhito,[18] came to the throne in 1867. His reign is called _Mei-ji_, or the "Era of Enlightened Rule."

During this period Japan has developed into a Great Power of the first rank, and it is in no small measure due to the wisdom and clear-sightedness of the Emperor that this great transformation has been accomplished.

Formerly the country was divided into many small principalities under the rule of _daimios_ or feudal lords, who were often at war with one another, though they were all subject to the suzerainty of the Shogun, the nominal ruler of the whole country.

Together with the _samurais_ the _daimios_ constituted the feudal nobility.

It is curious to think that little more than forty years ago the Japanese fought with bows and arrows, sword and spear, and that the _samurais_ went to battle in heavy harness with brassards and cuisses, helms and visors over the face.

They were skilful archers, and wielded their great swords with both hands when they rushed on the foe.

[Illustration: PLATE XXI.

THE GREAT BUDDHA AT KAMAKURA.

] Then the new period suddenly began.

In 1872 universal service was introduced, and French and German officers were invited to organise the defensive force.

Now Japan is so strong that no Great Power in the world cares to measure its strength with it.

NIKKO, NARA, AND KIOTO

From Tokio we travel northwards by train in two hours to Nikko.

There are several villages, and we put up in one of them.

In front of the inn ripples a clear stream, spanned by two bridges, one of which is arched and furnished with a red parapet.

Only the Emperor and his family may step on to this bridge; other mortals must pass over another bridge near at hand.

On the farther side we ascend a tremendously long avenue of grand cryptomerias rising straight up to the sky.

It leads to a mausoleum erected to the memory of the first Shogun of the famous dynasty of Tokugawa.

The first of them died in the year 1616. This mausoleum is considered to be the most remarkable sight in Japan.

It is not huge and massive, like the Buddhist temple in Kioto, the old capital of Japan.

It is somewhat small, but both outside and inside it displays unusually exquisite artistic skill.

Granite steps lead up to it.

A _torii_, or portal, is artistically carved in stone, and another is so perfect that the architect feared the envy of the gods, and therefore placed one of the pillars upside down.

We see carved in wood three apes, one holding his hands before his eyes, another over his ears, and the third over his mouth.

That means that they will neither see, hear, nor speak anything evil.

A pagoda rises in five blood-red storeys.

At all the projections of the roof hang round bells, which sound melodiously to the movement of the wind.

In the interior of the temple the sightseer is lost in dark passages dimly illuminated by oil lamps carried by the priests.

The walls are all covered with the finest paintings in gold and lacquer.

A moss-grown stone staircase leads down to the tomb where the Shogun sleeps.

Nara is situated immediately to the south of Kioto.

Here are many famous temples, pagodas, and _torii_, and here also is the largest image of Buddha in Japan, twelve hundred years old.

The finest thing of all, however, is the temple park of Nara, where silence and peace reign in a grove of tall cryptomerias.

Along the walks are several rows of stone lamps placed on high pedestals of stone.

They stand close together and may number a thousand.

Each of these lamps is a gift of some wealthy man to the temple.

On great festivals oil lamps are placed in them.

Hundreds of roedeer live in the park of Nara.

They are as tame as lambs, and wherever you go they come skipping up with easy, lively jumps.

Barley cakes for them to eat are sold along the paths of the park, and you buy a whole basket of these.

In a minute you are surrounded by roedeer, stretching out their delicate, pretty heads and gazing at the basket with their lovely brown eyes.

Here a wonderful air of peace and happiness prevails.

The steps of roedeer and pilgrims are heard on the sand of the paths, but otherwise there is complete silence and quiet.

The feeling reminds one of that which is experienced at the Taj Mahal.

All Japan is like a museum.

You can travel about for years and daily find new gems of natural beauty and of the most perfect art.

Everything seems so small and delicate.

Even the people are small.

The roads are narrow, and are chiefly used by rickshas and foot passengers.

The houses are dolls' closets.

The railways are of narrow gauge, and the carriages like our tramcars.

But if you wish to see something large you can visit the Buddhist temple in Kioto.

There we are received with boundless hospitality by the high priest, Count Otani, who leads us round and shows us the huge halls where Buddha sits dreaming, and his own palace, which is one of the most richly and expensively adorned in all Japan.

If you wish to see something else which does not exactly belong to the small things of Japan you should visit a temple in Osaka, the chief manufacturing town of Japan.

There hangs a bell which is 25 feet high and weighs 220 tons.

In a frame beside the bell is suspended a beam, a regular battering-ram, which is set in motion up and down when the bell is sounded.

And when the bell emits its heavy, deafening ring it sounds like thunder.

Kioto is much handsomer than Tokio, for it has been less affected by the influence of Western lands, and lies amidst hills and gardens.

Kioto is the genuine old Japan with attractive bazaars and bright streets.

Shall we look into a couple of shops?

Here is an art-dealer's. We enter from the street straight into a large room full of interesting things, but the dealer takes us into quite a small room, where he invites us to sit at a table.

And now he brings out one costly article after another.

First he shows us some gold lacquered boxes, on which are depicted trees and houses and the sun in gold, and golden boats sailing over water.

One tiny box, containing several compartments and drawers, and covered all over with the finest gold inlaying, costs only three thousand _yen_, or about three hundred pounds.

Then he shows us an old man in ivory lying on a carpet of ivory and reading a book, while a small boy in ivory has climbed on to his back.

From a whole elephant tusk a number of small elephants have been carved, becoming smaller towards the point of the tusk, but all cut out in the same piece.

You are tired of looking at them, they are so many, and they are all executed with such exact faithfulness to nature that you would hardly be surprised if they began to move.

Then he sets on the table a dozen metal boxes exquisitely adorned with coloured lacquer.

On the lid of a silver box an adventure of a monkey is represented in raised work.

Pursued by a snake, the monkey has taken refuge in a cranny beneath a projecting rock.

The snake sits on the top.

He cannot see the monkey, but he catches sight of his reflection in the water below the stone.

The monkey, too, sees the image of the snake, and each is now waiting for the other.

Now the shopman comes with two tortoises in bronze.

The Japanese are experts in metal-work, and there is almost life and movement in these creatures.

Now he throws on to the table a snake three feet long.

It is composed of numberless small movable rings of iron fastened together, and looks marvellously life-like.

Just at the door stands a heavy copper bowl on a lacquered tripod, a gong that sounds like a temple bell when its edge is struck with a skin-covered stick.

It is beaten out of a single piece, not cast, and therefore it has such a wonderful vibrating and long-continued ring.

Let us also go into one of the famous large silk shops.

Shining white silk with white embroidered chrysanthemum flowers on it--women's kimonos with clusters of blue flowers on the sleeves and skirt--landscapes, fishing-boats, ducks and pigeons, monkeys and tigers, all painted or embroidered on silk--herons and cranes in thick raised needlework on screens in black frames--everything is good and tasteful.

Among the most exquisite, however, are the cloths of cut velvet.

This is a wonderful art not found in any other country than Japan.

The finest white silken threads are tightly woven over straight copper wires laid close together, making a white cloth of perhaps ten feet square, interwoven with copper wires.

An artist paints in bright colours on the cloth a landscape, a rushing brook among red maples, a bridge, a mill-wheel, and a hut on the bank.

When he has done, he cuts with a sharp knife along each of the numberless copper wires.

Every time he cuts, the point of the knife follows one of the copper wires, and he cuts only over the coloured parts.

The fine silk threads are thus severed and their ends stand up like a brush.

Then the copper wires are drawn out, and there stand the red trees, hut, and bridge in close velvet on a foundation of silk.

In all kinds of handicrafts and mechanical work the Japanese are experts.

A workman will sit with inexhaustible patience and diligence for days, and even months and years, executing in ivory a boy carrying a fruit basket on his back.

He strikes and cuts with his small hammers and knives, his chisels and files, and gives himself no rest until the boy is finished.

Perhaps it may cost him a year's work, but the price is so high that all his expenses for the year are covered when the boy is sold to an art-dealer.

FOOTNOTES:

[17] "Fuji," without equal; "yama," mountain.

[18] The Emperor Mutsuhito died on July 30, 1912, and was succeeded by his eldest son, Yoshihito, who was born in 1879. XIV BACK TO EUROPE