A trip to Lotus land

Front matter

tA Trip to JqtusJXnd

Archie Belt

CORNELL

Foreword

ANYONE who has enjoyed the rare experience of making the tour of Japan, will advise all others making it for the first time to remain "as long as possible." Japan is a most gratifying vacation ground and "lives up to its reputation." It has a mighty reputation to maintain, because its praises have been sung by westerners since the first one set foot on Nippon's soil — and before. Marco Polo did not visit Japan, but he whetted the imagination of Europe concerning it when he related what he had heard. More frequently than otherwise, the visitor returns to his native land and enthusiastically recommends the tour to his friends, associates and acquaintances. Perhaps he spent a year, a season or a month there. His friends cannot remain a year and do not care to travel so far for a month's holiday, certain that much of Japan's charm could not be experienced in that brief time. They would not care to cross the Pacific, merely to gain a glimpse of a few coastal cities.

How long, then, must one remain in Japan to see the country, its people and their life?

I have heard the question asked many times and the books do not answer it. That then, if apology were required for contributing another volume to vi FOREWORD

the already existing library upon the subject, would be mine for the following pages.

Experience proved to me that six weeks, after the ship docks at Yokohama — where American passengers usually disembark — is ample time for seeing and enjoying all that the casual tourist will care to see. If he follows something like the itinerary sketched below, he will arrive back at Yokohama ready to depart for home, exactly six weeks from the day he arrived at the same port. And unless he has denied it entrance, the sunshine of Japan will have lodged in his heart and he will join the choir that gladly chants the praises of Nippon.

Yokohama, two days

Kamakura, one day

Miyanoshita, three days

Hakone, one day

Tokyo, three days

Shidzuoka, one day

Nagoya, one day

Kyoto, five days

Yamada, two days

Toba, one day

Nara, three days

Osaka, one day

Kobe, one day

Miyajma, three days

Shimonoseki, one day

Seoul, three days

Nagasaki, three days

Travel, one day

Nikko, seven days

The Author

ILLUSTRATIONS

Fuji from Lake Hakone Frontispiece

Geishas in Yokohama Facing page 28

Miyanoshita 28

Diabutsu at Kamakura 40

Digging Bamboo Root 40

Starting out for a "Drive" 50

Shinto Priest 50

Japanese Actor and Actress 64

"Hear, Speak, See no Evil " — Nikko Temple . . 82

Tea-Pickers, Shidzuoka 108

Flower Girl, Nara 108

Detail Carved Temple Panels, Nikko 114

Iris Garden, Kamakura 122

Fish-Wives, Kamakura 122

At a Flower Show, Nagoya 128

Nagoya Castle 128

Coopers at Nagoya 136

Maker of Cloisonne 136

Women Coaling Ship, Nagasaki 142

Tree Boat in Temple Garden 142

Lady in Kago 154

Park in Tokyo 154

Aoi Festival Procession, Kyoto 162

In Hozu Rapids 162

Native Wrestlers, Kyoto 168

Hand Silk Looms, Kyoto 168

Golden Pavilion, Kyoto 178

Kiyomizu-dera, Kyoto 178

vii viii ILLUSTRATIONS

Entrance to Ise Shrines 186

Buddhist Priest, Kobe 186

Approach to Yamada Shrines 196

Shrines of Ise, Yamada 196

Entrance to Park, Nara 208

Geisha Orchestra, Yamada 208

Buddhist Abbess and Nun, Nara 214

Flower Arrangement (Ikebana) 214

Schoolboys Fencing, Nara 220

Priestesses at Nara Temples 220

Lantern-Makers, Osaka 226

Shoes outside Theater, Kobe 226

Tori, Miyajima 232

Basket-Weavers, Shimonoseki 232

Bowing Ceremony 236

Huckster, Miyajima 236

Plowing Rice Paddy 242

Rice Fields outside Nagasaki 242

Bride, Nagasaki 256

Geisha, Nagasaki 256

Interior of Japanese House 260

Private Garden in Tokyo 260

Cryptomeria Avenue, Nikko 266

Shogun's Bridge, Nikko 270

Buddhas along Ravine, Nikko 272

Ieyasu Temples, Nikko 276

Ieyasu's Tomb, Nikko 282

Chapter I

Some of us, at least, have often wished thai it were possible to live for a season in the beautiful vanished world of Greek culture. And yet, to witness the revival of some perished Greek civilization — to walk about the very Crolona of Pythagoras — to wander through the Syracuse of Theocritus — were not any more of a privilege than is the opportunity actually afforded us to study Japanese life.

— Lafcadio Heabn

As it (the lotus) lifts up its buds out of the slimy ground to a greater or less height above the water, unfolding its beautiful leaves and flowers, on whose spotless petals no traces are to be found of the mire from which it has sprung, so the souls of men, according to the Buddist faith, rise from the slime of sin, by their own power and effort, to different heights, and reach the blessedness of Nirvana.

— T. Phtt.tp Terry f I THIS is not a guidebook. Mr. Terry's "Japa- -I- nese Empire," and the excellent publications of the Imperial Japanese Government railways, make other guidebooks superfluous. There are books by the dozens concerning the religion, government, temples, shrines, palaces, army, navy, art, trees, birds, and butterflies of Japan. This does not add to the number. It has a purpose distinct from the others, in that vast library which makes the beautiful land of the lotus an agreeable topic from whatever angle it is viewed by the writer. The purpose is to convey to the reader something of the joys of a six weeks' tour of Nippon. It is unnecessary to drink a barrel of emerald chartreuse to know whether or not it pleases the palate; a sip from a tiny glass brings one to a definite conclusion. It is not necessary to make a permanent residence in Japan to know the Japanese nor to see their attractive country. The specialists will remain for many months and many years and they will feel amply rewarded. Lafcadio Hearn said that when he arrived in Japan, a native scholar told him that he could not hope to understand the Japanese for many years; but finally, when he had despaired of ever understanding them, he might know that he was beginning to understand. This was true of an Occidental like Hearn, one who was unhappy until he had probed to the soul of things. His object in going to Japan was not at all that which should prompt the average American to go there, and perhaps the world is poorer because there are few men like Lafcadio Hearn.

But there are few of them. That fact, however, should not deter the rest of us, if we have the desire to see something of Nippon. We cannot remain for years, nor for months, the greater number of us; and for that reason the greater number of us do not go at all. And in this way we miss one of the most enjoyable holidays of our lives. So much has been written about the impenetrable and inconceivable Far East, that the inclination has grown to abandon thought of paying it a visit. Most of us have gained the idea, as did Hearn, that we must remain in Japan many years before the curtain is raised, something like waiting in a temple for the oracle to speak. The idea is wrong. A total stranger, with comparatively little time for hoUday-making, sailed away on the fast "Empress" boats which cut the round trip between Vancouver and Yokohama to twenty days. From the day that the great screws at the ship's stern stopped whirling, there was no haste until the steamer pointed its bow for home. Six weeks allowed ample time for what seemed to be a leisurely pilgrimage through the country, during which not only the "High Spots" of the routine and itinerary tourist were visited, but also plenty of those eye-delighting, out-of-the-way retreats that are frequently overlooked by the "personally conducted" parties that listen too well to the native guide's enchanting refrain concerning a protracted visit at Nikko, Kyoto, Nara or Miyanoshita. Every day of the six weeks was filled to the brim with the most alluring experiences that can fall to the latterday American traveler, but six weeks were ample time. On the day of the steamer's departure there were no regrets that anything had been overlooked. There was the always desirable vow to return on a later occasion, that doubtless causes every visitor's heart to throb a little faster as he sees the scenes of happy days fading from view; but no traveler would have it otherwise if he could. The country that does not throw out this parting appeal is not worth visiting at all. Nobody, however, with the tiniest drop of romantic or sentimental adventure in his blood, can think of leaving Japan without a tear in his eye, voice, or mind. Without a doubt, it is the most fascinating vacation ground remaining in the world for the casual traveler who desires comfort, and no annoyance in regard to transportation, lodgings, or food, while feasting his eyes on new sights as the days pass, and affording the opportunity for rest or excitement, mountains or lakes, country or city, as he chooses.

One would not advise less than six weeks' sojourn in lotus land, and preferably the tour should be made in the early spring, so that arrival may be in April, the famed cherry blossom time which heralds the pageantry of flowers, which seem such a vital contribution to Japan's beauty. But less than six weeks is better than no glimpse at Japan at all. Any time, spring weeks being filled, may never suggest to the traveler that he has erred. The wistaria follows the cherry and plum, the iris comes later, and the chrysanthemum runs late into the fall, when maples are casting a mantle of the shades of ancient tapestry or brocades over Nippon's bills. Even the winter has its delights and has been preferred by leisurely travelers who have remained the round year in the shadow of pagodas and within range of the bronze bells of temple or shrine.

The greater part of the expense will consist in the passage money required to cover the lengthy voyage from American shores, but this will be counted among the joys of the whole experience. Formerly it was a tedious or uncomfortable voyage; but it is no longer so. One feels almost that he has plunged into the midst of fabled Oriental luxury as he leaves his native country. The days pass rapidly, the service in every way compares favorably with what could be purchased by money on Atlantic liners, and, added to it all, there is the satisfaction of drifting by speedy degrees into the mythical region of incense and mystery. One pleasant morning one finds that he has not drifted aimlessly for a moment of the ten day voyage. While he was sleeping, enjoying the recreations of the deck, partaking of the sumptuous meals that beckon to all who breathe the salt air of the Pacific, the crew were at their posts. The ship was plowing speedily through the ever-blue waves. The vast distance of the maps has been covered ; he is in Japan, which is doubtless one of the day dreams of most Americans who like to bestir themselves from their own firesides for a peep at other parts of the world.

The expense on shore will be mainly what one desires to make it. As a general rule, it may be put down at about the same as a trip in European countries, which is usually considerably less than in America. Guides are a luxury, and, like other luxuries, they are available in plenty in all parts of the country; but guides are not a necessity. No familiarity with the language of the country is not so great a disadvantage as it is in France, Germany, Italy, or most of the lesser countries of Europe, because more people speak English in Japan than in any country where another language is spoken. Japan emerged from seclusion less than a half century ago, but she has emerged at rapid strides, and one of the principal items in her phenomenal campaign to place her name on the roster of the world powers has been to make herself not only acceptable to the foreigners, who were formerly forbidden to land on her shores, but to recompense all who come, for past neglect, by proving herself to be a most amiable hostess. Everything has been done to make the stranger within her gates as comfortable as he could be elsewhere. Japan's youth have been sent by the thousands to mingle with the peoples of the Western world. Keen observers, they have returned to their native land with all information that could assist in contributing to the enjoyment of western guests. T his information has been widely circulated, so that the proprietor of the inn in a remote village, the rikisha boy, the railway guard, or the small shop-keeper constantly surprises his visitor not only with a sometimes uncanny knowledge of his desires, but also with an eagerness to contribute his share to the easy progress of the stranger through the land of their august master, the Mikado. "Be neither servile nor arrogant to foreigners," the school children of Japan are told by their teachers. "Do not charge anything above what is proper. Do not do anything to disgrace us as a nation. Treat foreigners as equals and act uprightly in all your dealings with them. Men are to be judged by their conduct and not by their nationality." And the lessons of the teachers have borne fruit. Many parts of the country remain practically as they were centuries ago; but the treatment of strangers is different. There is a great national desire to play the friendly host; and what remains undone is largely a matter of physical impossibility.

The passing of a single year in Japan has completely changed conditions. The nation is bestirring herself as no other nation in the history of the world has ever done. Basil Hall Chamberlain, a well-informed authority, declares that the Japanese boast that they have done in thirty or forty years what it took European states as many centuries to accomplish. "Some even go further," he says, "and twit us Westerners of falling behind in the race." " It is a waste of time to go to Germany to study philosophy," said a Japanese savant recently; " the subject is much better taught in the University at Tokyo."

The day I sailed from Vancouver, I met a student of the world who has traveled much in many lands, and in the course of his pilgrimage for enlightenment has spent much time in the land of the Mikado. "You are going to Japan," he said, "and you will either enjoy yourself very much, or you will not. Much depends upon yourself. There is much, no doubt, to interest the man who sees Japan as the newest among the nations of the world, but if you would know its full joys, you must not consider that you have gone to Japan at all. Imagine that you have traveled, not to another country in 1917, but that you have gone to the Greece of the Age of Pericles. Between you and me, the American understands ancient Greece much better than he understands modern Japan. I have thoroughly enjoyed the Mikado's country, because I always make myself imagine that I was in ancient Athens. I looked upon the Japanese of to-day as the Athenians of that distant day. At least, I thought that I understood them from that point of view, and I enjoyed being among them."

And as quickly as the steamer had pushed away from the pier at Vancouver, with the admonition of this man still in my ears, I read that young Japan does not fancy having its country talked about as

"ancient Greece," as an earthly paradise, a beautiful cherry blossom and lotus land of quaint manners, usually the enthusiastic outbursts of a foreigner, if we may judge by the books that have come to us from travelers. "Why," asks young Japan, "not talk about our gigantic industries, our industrial enterprise, commercial talent, political sagacity, and powerful armaments, the real strength of a great nation,, and not the attractive exterior and surface? To talk only of the cherry blossoms indicates that you view us as a pretty weakling."

One day during the Pacific voyage, an American long resident in Tokyo, said to me, " If you stay in Japan six weeks, you may write a book. If you stay a year you may feel like writing a magazine article. But if you stay ten years you will feel incapable of writing anything, because it will all seem to be bewildering and you will realize or think that you realize you can never understand."

Six weeks in Japan! That is our plan as we leave Vancouver. During that time we shall travel much in a jinrikisha and try to be not one of those whom the Prophet Isaiah declared see and observe not. We shall try to unravel a few of the inconsistencies and incongruities, many of which doubtless arise from the fact that what was written about Japan last year or the year before is no longer correct. Whatever may come in the future, Japan ao A TRIP TO LOTUS LAND

is at present the most vitally interesting national experiment in the world. Although she has very recently presented herself as a candidate for world honors, Japan entered the race with a surprising handicap, which we of the West are too likely to overlook. One who knows the nation well says: "Japan has the advantage that her people can think as thoroughly as do the Orientals and then act on the results of her thoughts as decisively as do the Occidentals. To no other race in the world, as far as can be seen at the present moment, have both these gifts been given." But even these things are of no greater interest to us than the fact that we have reached the shores of Nippon. We are to see for ourselves and draw our own conclusions from what we see. Hasty conclusions, perhaps, but we are certain to have experiences that will abide in memory as long as we live. In many ways we are entering upon the most enjoyable six weeks of our lives.

The tourist agency tells us when we purchase our tickets from America for the Orient, that steamers sail in a bee-line from Vancouver to Yokohama, but we find in actual practice, for some reason or other, the steamer points its bow northward soon after leaving port and we sail towards Alaska, in exactly the route taken by steamers in summer for that part of the world. Then, apparently, when the commander thinks that he has ventured as close to the Arctic circle as his passengers will be able to endure, on account of the cold, he steers for the south coast of the Aleutian islands and skims along them, almost to the shores of Kamchatka, whereupon he drifts into the current and eventually arrives at Japan. An officer of the ship told me that, owing to the curvature of the earth, the ship gains about 600 miles, in the passage across the Pacific, by steering so far north. People who go down to sea in ships should not question the reason why, nor the routes taken. The commander is paid to do that worrying for us. It is the quickest route between America and Asia, this voyage consuming about ten days between Vancouver and Yokohama, allowing for the lost day at the 108th meridian. We shall always be thankful that we arrived in the morning in Yokohama; the first impression will never leave us. There may be more beautiful spots in the world. Usually travelers give the honor to Nagasaki harbor, the bay of Naples, Hongkong, and several other ports scattered over the earth's surface. Yokohama is a thriving and bustling seaport, and seaports are notoriously not as attractive as the other cities lying further inland. Particularly is this true of all eastern countries, where the "taint" of Europe and America has come into conflict with the native life, achieving questionable results, because the best of the two races never seem to come to the surface and survive. But

Yokohama is the Westerner's first view of Japan. To him it is Japan! Not perhaps that quaint dreamland of the interior, but even American automobiles, English, German, and French shops, banks, and offices cannot deprive it of its natural character.

And on that first morning the beautiful mists of the sea seem to rise and disclose, like the rising of a curtain, the beautiful country as typified by one of its most prosperous cities. Off in the distance rose Fuji, one of the most photographed, painted, and embroidered and otherwise artistically represented spots on the earth's surface. To the Japanese it is a sacred mountain; to the westerner it is the most celebrated possession of the country.

During hours of preparation we may have fancied that we were a long time waiting, but we made haste after the steamer came between the two beacon fights that mark the approach to the harbor. She swung up beside a pier, and almost before we were aware of it we had entered our rikishas and we had become a part of that constantly moving mass of humanity so characteristic of the East.

Immediately we heard the clatter of hundreds of wooden shoes on the pavements, although close observation showed us that a large percentage of the people moved along noiselessly on straw sandals. We saw great troupes of girls in brilliant kimonos, many of them seeming to be carrying the future hopes of Japan on their backs. We even saw many girls of sixteen or seventeen years with one infant tied on their backs and another astride their stomachs. They seemed to be taking the whole family for an airing, and all seemed to be happy, as was proved by their smiling faces. Japan has been called the country of childhood, and our first glance at it seemed to make this description most apt, for we saw that even the older generation was enjoying itself in the most innocent and childlike pleasures, often enough with grandchildren strapped to their backs as they plodded along through the crowded streets. We saw hundreds of rikishas being drawn by wiry little brown men, who trotted along at a lively gait. Perhaps we had thought of this typically Japanese vehicle as being more ornamental than practical, but we soon change our minds after seeing it in operation. There are thousands upon thousands of these two-wheeled carts scattered over the empire, and they are not here for ornament, where so much seems for no other purpose than to please the eye and aesthetic senses of one who beholds it. Five minutes after reaching port we decide to ride everywhere. The fare is cheap. Ten or fifteen cents in American money will pay for the usual ride about town. And everyone else rides, so we soon feel that we cannot walk alone in a city of a half million inhabitants and inside of two hours imagine that we have been riding in jinrikishas all our lives.

We see hundreds of grave citizens in dark blue, purple or black robes and we see many Japanese in European costumes, which usually seem to be most inappropriate, for most of them scuff along in their tight shoes, evidently wishing that they had wooden or straw sandals and the conventional coat and trousers seem very ugly raiment by comparison to the graceful lines of the national costume.

Unbelievable loads are drawn or pushed on carts by two or three men. Everyone seems to be on the move. Everyone seems to be doing something for a livelihood, even to the most amazing occupations, as viewed through Western eyes. It costs more to live in Japan than it did ten years ago. With the general adaptation or at least a toleration of European customs has come a desire for greater comforts. The man who formerly lived on lotus bulbs, seaweed, and fish now experiments with healthier food. He desires a better home. He sees others of his countrymen prospering because they have adopted the foreign ways of living. If it is too late for him, he wants his sons to have opportunities which he did not enjoy. So he is straining every muscle to earn another yen. And the whole population of Yokohama seems to be doing something and doing it with speed rather than with the "don't hurry" and "don't care about time" manner of old Japan.

According to the last census there are about 800 Americans residing in this cosmopolitan city, where almost every nation under the sun is well represented. The majority of them are engaged in the export business and are in one way or another connected with the vast shipping industry between their own and the adopted country. America is Japan's best customer, and much that reaches our shores passes through this port, so that almost constantly there is a fleet of merchant ships lying in the harbor and they are the destination of an immense fleet of barges and canal boats which reach the warehouses and depots where produce arrives from inland. These waterways are spanned by picturesque bridges in all parts of the city, which is in reality divided into a large number of islands, although this fact is not apparent until one climbs the heights overlooking the harbor. But it is not the shipping industry, the commerce, nor even the fascinating shops, where silk goods and curios are sold by the thousands to tourists who tarry in port but one day, that first attract the eye of one who expects to remain for some days. First of all one must accustom himself to the picturesque humanity in the city streets; then gradually one drifts to the scenic splendors and finally to the shops or marts of trade.

The guidebooks will warn us that one of the pests of the country is the Chinese tailor. And it seems to me that old Won Lung is the most pestiferous of the crew. Of course Lung is the one I drew. He it was who took it upon himself to et me know what he thought of American tailoring, soon after I left the ship that brought me to Japan. The number of these celestial costumers in the Japanese empire is said to run away into the thousands, and the number is increasing every week, proportionate to the increased prosperity of the country.

The Japanese will haul a cart all day, or pull a rikisha twenty-five miles over hilly roads between dawn and sunset for wages amounting to about as much as the American Pullman porter expects for a tip. He will wade in mud to his knees in the rice fields, comb the beach for clams, sea-weed, and other "edibles," after each outgoing tide, or brush gutters with bunches of twigs and reeds. But he lets the despised Chinamen do the tailoring. And the celestial improves his opportunity. It is true that prices are ridiculously low, compared to America, but this has not prevented the wily merchants from amassing much wealth. Some of them have large establishments in the principal cities and no longer haunt the footsteps of the newcomer; but they engage troupes of their countrymen to do the soliciting for them. It seems to be a part of their great scheme not to permit the stranger to land in Japan without selling him at least one suit of clothes.

The hotels of Yokohama are first class in almost every respect excepting this one. Either they are unable to keep the Chinese tailors out, or they derive a percentage from all business taken under their roofs. It might not be a bad guess to suspect the latter of being true. The Chinese tailors permit the newcomer to arrive at the hotel from the ship. Perhaps they even let him register his name at the desk before beginning the campaign. It is even possible to reach one's room without being attacked. But soon afterwards begins the pestering. Finally, in despair, one gives an order for at least one suit of clothes, and may pass beyond the hotel portals without having a tailor at his heels, reminding him that he is not well dressed.

A Japanese boy who went with me to show the location of the room, after I had answered the "information for police" questions at the desk, required of all new arrivals, was accompanied by another, whom I took to be an old Chinese servant. That was my first glimpse of Won Lung. He entered the room when I did, bowed with his forehead to the floor as did the hotel menial, but when the boy left, old Lung declined to do so, and immediately began to spread his samples of cloth on the table.

He was my first Chinese tailor! I told him to get out, and he got out, but not more than five minutes later he tapped at the door and asked if I did not want to reconsider his excellent offers. I shut the door in his face, and actually reached a hotel rikisha without encountering another tailor. Apparently there is a "fraternity" method among them; I was one man's "prospect," and the others permitted Iiitti to pester me as much as he pleased, while they stood at a distance. When I returned to the hotel he was waiting at the gate. Soon began another tirade about the excellence of his silk pongee; and before a day had passed I let him take my measure for a suit, which was made to order for eight American dollars. He was prompt in his delivery. Probably his workmen toiled all night, for the next day he appeared at my door before I was ready for callers, carrying the suit wrapped neatly beneath linen covers. Inquiry among the other arrivals who came on the same boat proved that my experience was about the same as that of the others. Everyone had bought at least one suit of clothes within ten hours after arriving in Japan. So it appears that the Westerners who walk Japanese streets do not wear the clothing that they bring from the "fatherland," but appear costumed as a Chinese tailor thinks an improvement.