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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 54591 ***</div>
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paragraphs. The full-page illustrations with a blank verso
participated in pagination. These pages have been removed,
and page numbers are skipped.</p>
</div>
<div class='epubonly'>
<p class='c001'>Illustrations have been moved slightly to avoid falling within
paragraphs. Each chapter begins with an illustrated 'drop-cap'
including the first letter of the chapter. With the exception
of Chapter XI, these are not reproduced in this version. The
illustration for Chapter XI has a caption, and is mentioned
in the list of illustrations, and so has been retained in
a slightly altered form.</p>
</div>
<p class='c001'>The few footnotes have been moved to the end of paragraph in which
they are referenced.</p>
<p class='c001'>Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please
see the transcriber’s <a href='#endnote'>note</a> at the end of this text
for details regarding the handling of any textual issues encountered
during its preparation.</p>
<div class='epubonly'>
<p class='c001'>Corrections appear as hyperlinks to the endnote’s errata table where
the original text is given, in context, and brief note of the
change.</p>
</div>
<div class='htmlonly'>
<p class='c001'>Corrections appear as <ins class='correction' title='original'>underlined</ins> word or phrase. If the
cursor is placed over the phrase, the original text appears in a popup
tool-tip. The endnote’s errata table will provide a brief explanation
of the change to be found at the indicated page and line of the original.</p>
</div>
<div class='htmlonly'>
<div class='figcenter id001'>
<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c002'>
<div><span class='xxlarge'>AN ENGLISH GIRL IN JAPAN</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'><a id='frontis'></a></p>
<div class='figcenter plate'>
<img src='images/i_frontis.jpg' class='ig001' alt='' />
<table class='c003' summary='caption'>
<colgroup>
<col width='70%' />
<col width='30%' />
</colgroup>
<tr><td> </td><td class='c004'><span class='small'>(<i>Page</i> 24.</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2">A LITTLE NASAN APPEARED.</td></tr>
</table>
</div>
<div>
<h1 class='c005'>AN ENGLISH GIRL <br /> IN JAPAN</h1>
</div>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c000'>
<div><span class='small'>BY</span></div>
<div><span class='large'>ELLA M. HART BENNETT</span></div>
<div class='c002'><i>SECOND EDITION</i></div>
<div class='c006'><span class="blackletter">Illustrated</span></div>
<div class='c006'>LONDON</div>
<div>WELLS GARDNER, DARTON & CO., LTD.</div>
<div>3, PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS, E.C.</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='figcenter id002'>
<img src='images/i_a006.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
</div>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center'>
<div><i>First Edition, May, 1904</i></div>
<div><i>Second Edition, June, 1906</i></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c006'>
<div>TO</div>
<div class='c000'><span class='large'>MY FRIEND MARY</span></div>
<div class='c000'>A SOUVENIR</div>
<div class='c000'>OF MANY PLEASANT DAYS</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='lg-container-b c007'>
<div class='linegroup'>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>‘Though wide the ocean now dividing us,</div>
<div class='line'>Ne’er let its waters separate our souls.’</div>
<div class='line in22'>(<em>Japanese quotation.</em>)</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='chapter'>
<h2 class='c008'>PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION</h2>
</div>
<p class='c009'>The following sketches of life in Japan and the
voyage there and back are taken from a diary which
I kept during my travels.</p>
<p class='c001'>Since writing my little book of personal reminiscences,
which, thanks to indulgent readers and kind
friends, is now republished in a second edition, many
and great changes have taken place in the Far East.</p>
<p class='c001'>Japan has now become a great Power--not only
in the East, but also in the West. It is <em>little</em> Japan
no longer; or, rather, its greatness is now understood
and acknowledged by all the world. Western
civilization has taken a firm hold on the Japanese
people. They have been rapidly adopting, and, in
fact, improving on, Western methods, customs, and
manners. The fear of the globe-trotter of to-day is
whether he will be in time to see the Japan of his
dreams and of romance, before this great Western
wave of progress and reform has divested the Land
of the Rising Sun of its quaint originality and
fascinating charm.</p>
<div class='c010'>E. H. B.</div>
<p class='c001'>1906.</p>
<div class='chapter'>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_I'>I</span>
<h2 class='c008'>PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION</h2>
</div>
<p class='c009'>The following sketches of life in Japan and the
voyage there and back are taken from a diary which
I kept during my travels.</p>
<p class='c001'>As Japan and its wonderful little people have
come so much before the world during the last
few years, and especially at this time are one of the
chief factors in the crisis in the Far East, I thought
that these reminiscences and anecdotes taken from
real life might be of interest.</p>
<p class='c001'>I am indebted to the editors of the <cite>Cornhill</cite>,
<cite>Sketch</cite>, <cite>Sunday</cite>, and the <cite>Buenos Aires Standard</cite> for
the reproduction of some of the following sketches.</p>
<div class='c010'> ELLA HART BENNETT.</div>
<p class='c001'>1904.</p>
<div class='chapter'>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_xi'>xi</span>
<h2 class='c008'>CONTENTS</h2>
</div>
<table class='table0' summary=''>
<colgroup>
<col width='85%' />
<col width='14%' />
</colgroup>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'>CHAPTER I</td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'><span class='fss'>ON THE WAY</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'> </td>
<td class='c013'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'>I start on my travels--A fair Theosophist--Life on an American liner--Arrival at New York--Delmonico’s---The Hotel Waldorf--Niagara Falls--Across the Lakes--The prairies--A quiet Sunday</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#Page_1'>1–12</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'>CHAPTER II</td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'><span class='fss'>IN THE ROCKIES</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'>First sight of the Rockies--Stay at Banff--Indians and salmon--Arrival at Vancouver--The <i>Empress of India</i>--Chinese passengers--The missing day--A court-martial--First sight of Japan</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#Page_13'>13–22</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'>CHAPTER III</td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'><span class='fss'>EARLY DAYS IN JAPAN</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'>A new friend--A Japanese dinner--Japanese temples--An earthquake--A fire in Yokohama</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#Page_23'>23–32</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'>CHAPTER IV</td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'><span class='fss'>A JAPANESE HARROGATE</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_xii'>xii</span>A trip to the Japanese Harrogate--A curious travelling companion--A Japanese inn--A mountain ride--At the sulphur springs--A sulphur bath--A night in a tea-house--Sad news</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#Page_33'>33–50</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'>CHAPTER V</td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'><span class='fss'>AN IMPERIAL GARDEN-PARTY</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'>Silk dresses and frock-coats--A disappointed Colonel--The Royal procession--The chrysanthemums--I am presented--A Japanese play--Japanese royal sport--The Mikado and his subjects</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#Page_51'>51–65</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'>CHAPTER VI</td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'><span class='fss'>JAPANESE LADIES</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'>Their habits and ways--Home life--The Honourable Bath--Count Ito and his wife--Old Japan--Loyalty to husbands--A mixed marriage--Curious customs--Japanese sayings</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#Page_66'>66–82</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'>CHAPTER VII</td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'><span class='fss'>JAPANESE CHILDREN</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'>Boys and girls--Games--The Feast of Dolls--School life--The ‘Hina Matsuri’--The Feast of the Carp--The ‘Bon Matsuri,’ the festival for dead children</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#Page_83'>83–97</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'>CHAPTER VIII</td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'><span class='fss'>SERVANTS IN JAPAN</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'>Their politeness--Frequency of their baths--Always ready for a nap--Mrs. Peter Potts</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#Page_98'>98–108</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'>CHAPTER IX</td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'><span class='fss'>SOME FESTIVALS AND A FUNERAL</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'>The Imperial Silver Wedding--Parade of the troops--The wedding feast--The Chinese ball in Tokio--A gay assembly--A Royal funeral--Strange customs</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#Page_109'>109–123</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'><span class='pageno' id='Page_xiii'>xiii</span>CHAPTER X</td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'><span class='fss'>CHANG, MY CHOW</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'>His first appearance--Adventures and mishaps--Companions in the Hospital--Chang goes to church--Facing the enemy</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#Page_124'>124–140</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'>CHAPTER XI</td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'><span class='fss'>FURTHER ADVENTURES OF CHANG</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'>The tale of a tub--Sayonara--Board-ship acquaintance--Queer company</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#Page_141'>141–163</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'>CHAPTER XII</td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='2'><span class='fss'>PAUL AND VIRGINIA</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'>Life on a tea-estate--My animal friends--Two brown bears--Brutus, the monkey--Always in mischief--The Brazilian macaw</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#Page_164'>164–176</a></td>
</tr>
</table>
<div class='chapter'>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_xv'>xv</span>
<h2 class='c008'>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
</div>
<table class='table0' summary=''>
<colgroup>
<col width='63%' />
<col width='22%' />
<col width='14%' />
</colgroup>
<tr>
<td class='c012'> </td>
<td class='c014'> </td>
<td class='c013'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'>A little Nasan appeared</td>
<td class='c014'><a href='#frontis'><em>Frontispiece</em></a></td>
<td class='c013'> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>In the Heart of the Rockies</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b015'>15</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>‘Tum adain soone! sayonara!’</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b026'>26</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>One of the Shinto Temples</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b027'>27</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>The Great Bronze Buddha</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b028'>28</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>We start for Kodzu</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b035'>35</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>Idaka, the Guide</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b039'>39</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>Prepared for the Night</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b047'>47</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>Our Invitation-cards were very large and thick</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b053'>53</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>The Gardens are very beautiful</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b057'>57</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>Quaint Signboards in some of the Streets, Tokio: Butcher’s, Umbrella Shop</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b063'>63</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>Quaint Signboards in some of the Streets, Tokio: Poultry and Egg Shop, Japanese Tailor</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b064'>64</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>‘Many are distinctly pretty when young’</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b068'>68</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>A Japanese Lady of the Upper Class</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b069'>69</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>A Tea-house Veranda</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b072'>72</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>‘How picturesque they looked!’</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b084'>84</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>Japanese Children</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b087'>87</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>Japanese Servants</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b099'>99</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>That Delightful Hotel in the Hills</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b102'>102</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>Three Friends</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b125'>125</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>The Garden of the Little Tea-house</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b129'>129</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'><span class='pageno' id='Page_xvi'>xvi</span>The Kind Old ‘Isha-san’</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b133'>133</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>The Little House in the Forest</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b137'>137</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>Chang’s First Appearance</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b140'>140</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>Yum-Yum and Dodo</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b141'>141</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>The Monastery in the Rock</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b143'>143</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>Mystical ‘Fuji-Yama’</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b151'>151</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>The Lotus Flower of Japan</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b154'>154</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012' colspan='2'>Arara</td>
<td class='c013'><a href='#b173'>173</a></td>
</tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='3'>Initials, Tailpieces, etc.</td></tr>
</table>
<div class='figcenter id003'>
<img src='images/i_a016.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
</div>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c002'>
<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_1'>1</span><span class='xxlarge'>An English Girl in Japan</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='chapter'>
<h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER I <br /> <span class='fss'>ON THE WAY</span></h2>
</div>
<p class='c015'>I start on my travels--A fair Theosophist--Life on an
American liner--Arrival at New York--Delmonico’s--The
Hotel Waldorf--Niagara Falls--Across the Lakes--The
prairies--A quiet Sunday.</p>
<div class='c009'>
<img class='drop-capi' src='images/i_b001.jpg' width='200' height='205' alt='' />
</div><p class='drop-capi1_0'>
The visit to the Far East,
where my father had business
in Japan, was taken
when I was only eighteen.
Being an only child, I had
been his constant companion
since the death of
my mother nine years previously.
I was never sent to school, and, after a
succession of governesses, my education was put
into the hands of the old bachelor Rector of our
parish, whose ideas as to what a girl ought to know
were somewhat peculiar. However, in other ways
<span class='pageno' id='Page_2'>2</span>I had more practical knowledge of life than was
usual for one of my age, as my father discussed
subjects of all kinds with me freely; and I grew up
to take interest in topics of the day, in animal life
of all kinds, and in my garden, of which I was
very proud.</p>
<p class='c001'>Until the last moment I feared something might
occur to prevent our going; and it seemed almost
too good to be true to think I was actually to see
the country from where my father had brought so
many beautiful curios on his former visit, and which
I had always heard spoken of as an earthly paradise.</p>
<p class='c001'>However, the day of departure came at last, and
after many preparations and tearful farewells from
the two old servants, who were to keep house for us
during our absence, we started--two planet pilgrims
bound for the Land of the Rising Sun.</p>
<p class='c001'>I have always disliked books of travel with dates
describing the day and hour when the writer did this
or that, and giving minute descriptions of food,
climate, feelings, etc. I don’t think it is in the least
amusing to read that on Monday, the 26th, the
heroine was seasick, and on the 30th, at 6 p.m.,
was able to enjoy roast mutton and pudding. Or
that she landed on such a day at such a place, and
exactly how she spent each hour. I have decided
only to write about the events and experiences which
have most impressed me during my travels, and to
describe as well as I can the characteristics of the
people that I came across.</p>
<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span>We sailed from Southampton in the <em>Paris</em>, a huge
American liner of 12,000 tons, more like a floating
hotel than a ship. My first impressions of life on
board were not altogether enjoyable, as we started in
a gale, and I own to more than once wishing myself
back again in Old England. However, in a couple
of days the weather calmed down, and I soon
recovered my sea-legs, and was able once again to
enjoy life.</p>
<p class='c001'>There were a good number of passengers of every
description and nationality on board--a theatrical
company, Mr. Carnegie (the millionaire), the late
Dr. Barnardo, Mrs. Annie Besant, a foreign Ambassador
and a Colonial Governor, besides many other
well-known people. Mrs. Besant was accompanied
by two Indian Mahatmas, who were the objects
of much interest. They spent the greater part of
their time together, reclining in long deck-chairs,
with pillows behind their heads, and covered up
to their chins with thick rugs. Sometimes they
lay for hours, hand in hand, with closed eyes; at
other times they talked earnestly in low tones.
One Indian was very short and fat, the other long
and thin, with snake-like movements and curious
piercing eyes. They had thick black hair down to
their shoulders, little red caps with tassels on their
heads, and long, rusty black frock-coats and white
trousers--a truly remarkable pair. I overheard the
fat one remark to Mrs. Besant that before they could
disintegrate and assume their astral shapes it was
<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>necessary to abstain from food for twelve hours,
when their bodies would be in a fit state to soar.
The fat little man must evidently have made up for
his abstinence at other times, judging from his portly
appearance. We were told that the trio were going
to lecture on Theosophy in Chicago, and, after some
little persuasion, Mrs. Besant consented to give a
lecture on board. Over three hundred of the
passengers assembled in the saloon, and the fair
Theosophist held us fascinated for more than an hour.
She spoke very quietly, but with intense earnestness,
in a rich, deep voice, with hardly a moment’s pause.
The subject was evolution, and the manner in which
the soul passes from one body to another, either
getting higher and more spiritual, or deteriorating
and becoming more animal.</p>
<p class='c001'>One of the audience got up and asked for the
proofs of Buddhism being superior to other religions,
others followed suit, and the discussion became
somewhat heated, until the chairman, Mr. Carnegie,
restored order by saying that we were not at a
debating society, but that Mrs. Besant having been
persuaded to speak for our pleasure and entertainment,
he thought the least we could do was to listen
with respectful attention, if not agreeing with the
subject in question. (Loud applause.)</p>
<p class='c001'>The remainder of the voyage passed in the
usual way--sports, tournaments, concerts, the daily
lottery on the run--the prize number being sometimes
worth between thirty and forty pounds.
<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>Various other amusements were arranged by enterprising
passengers and officers of the ship.</p>
<p class='c001'>We were fortunate in arriving at New York up to
time--in five days and a half--as the week before
the mails had been delayed by a severe cyclone, from
the effects of which New York was still suffering.
On landing at the Custom House the scene of confusion
baffled description. We luckily possessed a
pass, so had not to open our trunks, but it seemed
hours before our thirty-five boxes and packages were
collected together. Meanwhile, I sat waiting on one
of my boxes until my patience was quite exhausted.</p>
<p class='c001'>My father had engaged rooms at the Hotel
Waldorf, where we found a most charming suite
had been reserved for us. Each set of rooms in the
hotel is furnished in a different style--one Indian,
one Japanese, another Egyptian, and a special honeymoon
suite, all pink, blue, and Cupids. This hotel--probably
the most luxurious in the world--was
built by Mr. Astor, the millionaire, costing £400,000,
and £200,000 to furnish. The State-rooms, fitted
up for the Prince of Wales, who never went there
after all, are magnificent. The walls are hung with
Gobelin tapestry, and all the dinner-service is of
solid silver. I was particularly fascinated with the
winter garden, which resembles a huge conservatory,
with fountains, palms, and little tables dotted about.
A string band played there every evening, and I saw
a number of smartly-dressed American women and
girls, as well as men, enjoying their favourite American
<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>drinks. I was not content until I had sampled a
‘corpse reviver,’ drinking it through a long straw, but
I cannot say the result was altogether satisfactory.</p>
<p class='c001'>Everything about New York interested me immensely
after the quiet country life I had led at
home. The crowds in the streets, the bustle, the
electric-cars and overhead railways, were at first
bewildering. We were given a box at the Opera
Comique to see ‘Panjandrum,’ and there I saw
several American society beauties. The girls reminded
me much of Dana Gibson’s charming
drawings. The men seemed insignificant in comparison;
but it is said they make ideal husbands,
which is an important consideration.</p>
<p class='c001'>After the theatre we went to a ‘roof garden,’ going
up by lift to the top of a large building, and through
a door on to the roof. This had been converted
into a Café Chantant--plants, chairs, a small stage,
and a restaurant, all lit up with little coloured lamps.
It was very amusing, and a delightful way of spending
a hot evening, as, although the end of September,
the weather in New York was still sultry.</p>
<p class='c001'>Before returning to the hotel, my father took me
to Delmonico’s, the famous New York restaurant,
where we had an excellent supper, beginning with
hot, soft-shell crabs--a very favourite dish in America.
They are just like our crabs, but the shells are quite
soft and crisp, and one eats shell, legs, and all.
Mrs. Besant and her two Mahatmas were sitting at
a table near us. They had evidently no immediate
<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>intention of assuming their astral shapes, to judge
by the number of dishes which were placed before
them and were carried away empty. A precocious
little American girl of about ten was having supper
with her ‘poppa’ and ‘momma’ at the table next to us.
Between the intervals of eating she placed her elbows
on the table, brandishing aloft her knife and fork,
and made comments on the people round in a loud,
nasal voice. After some especially indiscreet remark
about the long, thin Indian, who turned and looked
at her with a melancholy gleam in his snake-like
eye, ‘momma’ exclaimed in equally strident tones:
‘I guess, Jemima, you had better keep your remarks
to your own <em>in</em>side, and not make them public, or
you’ll get yourself <em>dis</em>liked--say?’ For a few moments
Jemima remained silent, but soon began
again.</p>
<p class='c001'>The next morning I was awakened to find a negro
standing by my bedside with a tray in his hands.
He stood motionless in an attitude of attention, his
feet well turned out, a broad grin showing his
white teeth, apparently awaiting my commands.
After receiving my orders, he departed with another
low bow, still smiling. Most of the house-work is
done in America by negroes, who are very quick
and willing.</p>
<p class='c001'>After three delightful but most fatiguing days in
New York, spent in sight-seeing, we left by the night
train for Niagara. I shall never forget my first
impressions of those wonderful Falls, which even
<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>exceeded my expectations, they are so indescribably
beautiful and impressive.</p>
<p class='c001'>After lunch at the hotel where we were to stay the
night, we walked to various points on the American
side, and at each the view seemed more beautiful
than the last. The Niagara River divides and
forms three islands. On one side are the American
Falls; on the other, over a large suspension-bridge,
are the Canadian Horseshoe Falls. I persuaded my
father to take me down under the latter. We were
first both arrayed in a complete set of oilskins--coat,
long boots, and pointed hood--and presented most
comical figures. A guide led the way, as the path in
places was very steep and slippery. At one spot the
water poured down on us like a shower-bath, and it
required some strength of mind not to turn back;
but when we had once started we were determined to
see all. We came to a tunnel, lighted by lanterns,
where the water dripped from the roof and walls,
forming deep puddles, through which we plunged;
and I was glad to find myself in the daylight again,
safe and sound. The sunshine on the water produced
a rainbow at both Falls--a most beautiful
sight on the white foam.</p>
<p class='c001'>Almost more impressive, if possible, than the Falls
are the whirlpool rapids, which we visited next
morning--the place where Captain Webb was
drowned, and where only lately a foolhardy woman
lost her life attempting to cross in a cask. The cask
reached its destination safely, after some hours’
<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>buffeting with the current, but when opened, the
woman was found dead.</p>
<p class='c001'>I can only liken the scene to a tremendous storm
on a rocky coast, as the waves dashed over the rocks,
throwing up foam and spray high into the air, whilst
the thunder of the water was deafening. The cliffs
on either side of the river were covered with grass
and trees growing to the water’s edge, calm and
peaceful--a striking contrast to the Rapids and their
ceaseless tumult.</p>
<p class='c001'>From Niagara we went by train and boat to
Toronto. On our arrival at the hotel we found five
reporters sitting in the hall awaiting us, ready to
pounce on my father, who, being well known in the
literary world, was doomed to be victimized. In
vain did my unfortunate parent remind them it was
past nine o’clock, that we had had no dinner, and
having only that evening made our first acquaintance
with the delights of Canada, it was impossible fully
to do justice either to himself or the country. All
was of no avail; a long string of questions had to
be answered before we were permitted to depart in
peace, and the next morning in all the leading papers
appeared wonderful and totally untrue accounts of
our family history, appearance, and sentiments.</p>
<p class='c001'>From Owen Sound we went by steamboat across
Lake Huron and Lake Superior to Port William,
which is in connection with the Canadian-Pacific
Railway. The lake scenery is very beautiful, and
was a pleasant change after the dusty train. We
<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>were three hours passing through the lock which
divides the two lakes. As the steamboats are run
on strictly temperance principles, and no wine or
spirit of any description allowed on board--although
we were fed with such dainties as frogs’ legs and
soft-shell crab--the excitement was great on seeing
a little shanty by the lock where home-brewed beer
could be obtained. There was a frantic rush on
shore, and the little inn must have reaped a harvest
that day. Whilst waiting at the lock I was much
interested in seeing large quantities of timber floating
over the rapids, having come downstream hundreds
of miles from the Canadian forests. The wood is
caught by huge nets made of chains, and just by the
side of the lock is a storage depot, where the timber
is collected and cut into planks. We had some
excellent lake trout for dinner, and in the evening
watched the northern lights, which illuminated the
sky far into the night.</p>
<p class='c001'>The next morning we left Port William, a quaint
little town which had only been in existence three
years, but already boasted of a church and good
shops and houses, and started westward on our four
days’ train journey to Vancouver. During the first
twenty-four hours we passed through the prairies, a
vast stretch of yellow plain, with its deep purple
shadows, looking terribly desolate, but yet fascinating
in its loneliness. Here and there were prairie fires--some
still smouldering, others which had left only
their charred and blackened marks behind them.
<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>We passed many little settlements and farms--one
farm was a hundred miles in size--and an immense
quantity of wheat is grown in this district. At each
station are huge elevators, and the grain is sucked up
into them through tubes by means of compressed air
at marvellous rapidity. It was harvest-time when
we passed, but, being Sunday, none of the men were
at work. It seemed quite pathetic to see lines of
buggies and cars waiting outside some of the little
settlement churches, and as we passed we saw many
of the settlers riding and driving to and from service.
Some must have come very long distances. At one
place, far away from any dwelling, there was a little
cemetery--just a dozen white stones and one little
cross standing out against the sky--only divided by
a rough wooden rail from the rest of the prairie. In
winter the country is covered with snow to a depth
of from twenty to thirty feet, and the occupants of
the farms have to dig their way out, leaving only
the front-door exposed. We saw large herds of
cattle and horses, but the buffalo is almost extinct.
He, as well as the Indian, seems to disappear as
civilization advances.</p>
<p class='c001'>There are still some Indians left, however, and
we passed several encampments. Their wigwams
looked more picturesque than comfortable, composed
of mud and sticks. The few specimens we saw
were miserable-looking creatures. The women’s
cheeks were painted a bright brick-red, long matted
hair hung over their shoulders, and their costumes
<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>consisted of the most extraordinary collection of old
rags and finery imaginable. They seemed quite
harmless, but were much alarmed when I attempted
to snap-shot them, and slunk away, evidently warning
the others against us. The papooses, fastened like
little mummies to their mothers’ backs, had some of
them quaint, almost pretty, faces, but looked horribly
dirty and uncomfortable, swathed tightly in their
filthy rags.</p>
<p class='c001'>The violent rocking of the train, the dust, the heat
of the cars, all combined to give me a bad attack of
car-sickness, added to which I knocked my head
violently against the door of our car, and was almost
stunned. At each station the one thought of everyone
on board was to get out for some fresh air and
to stretch one’s limbs, and I was almost left behind at
a little wayside station, where I had quite forgotten
my troubles looking at the glorious sunset lighting up
the prairie. Suddenly, to my horror, I saw the train
slowly gliding off; had not the guard cleverly caught
me up in his arms as the end carriage was leaving
the platform, I should have been left to the tender
mercies of the station-master and signalman in the
middle of the prairie until the next train passed,
twenty-four hours later.</p>
<p class='c001'>After this adventure and fright I became so
thoroughly upset that my father decided to break
our journey at Banff for a couple of days.</p>
<div class='chapter'>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>
<h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER II <br /> <span class='fss'>IN THE ROCKIES</span></h2>
</div>
<p class='c015'>First sight of the Rockies--Stay at Banff--Indians and salmon--Arrival
at Vancouver--The <em>Empress of India</em>--Chinese
passengers--The missing day--A court-martial--First
sight of Japan.</p>
<div class='c009'>
<img class='drop-capi' src='images/i_b013.jpg' width='200' height='155' alt='' />
</div><p class='drop-capi1_0'>
After leaving the prairies
the scenery became more
hilly and the country
wooded and fertile. The
maples had just turned,
and their gorgeous colouring
of crimson and gold
made the landscape appear like a gigantic flower-garden.
Ill as I felt, the beauty of the scene so
fascinated me that hours passed like minutes.
Gradually the distant blue mountains grew nearer
and more distinct, and, almost without knowing it,
we found ourselves in the heart of the Rocky
Mountains, four thousand feet above the sea-level.</p>
<p class='c001'>At sunset a mist rolled across the valley, and above
towered the great Cathedral Rock, thirteen thousand
feet high, tinged a lovely rose-colour which gradually
<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>faded into soft pink and gray; then all was left
in shadow, with the young moon shedding her pale
light upon the dark, rugged outline of rock. It was
a scene never to be forgotten.</p>
<p class='c001'>We spent three pleasant days at Banff. Oh, the
joy of a quiet night’s rest, a hot bath, and being
clean again! I soon felt much better, though still
stiff and shaken. The hotel was very comfortable,
built like a huge Swiss chalet of pine-wood, with a
big veranda, and beautifully situated, overlooking
lake, forest, and river, and surrounded by high peaks
in the distance. The hot, iron, and sulphur springs
are a great feature of the place, and I much enjoyed
the warm, open-air bath, formed out of the rocks,
where I had a delightful swim each morning. The
air at Banff is most invigorating--so clear and pure.
We spent a good deal of our time on the Vermilion
Lake, paddling about in a Canadian canoe, and
exploring the many little creeks, some only a few
feet wide. Trout are very abundant in the lake,
and my father was fortunate in catching one weighing
nearly thirty-five pounds, much to the envy and
admiration of the other people at the hotel.</p>
<p class='c001'>After leaving Banff we travelled in the observation-car
of the train as far as Field, a little village five
thousand feet up in the mountains, where we stopped
to dine. It was intensely cold, and snow was already
on the ground. The train after Field makes the
most extraordinary turns and twists, and is called
the loop-line. In some places both ends of the
<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>train were visible from the car. The skeleton iron
bridges, hung from rock to rock, shook as we passed
over them, and I felt dizzy as I looked down at the
yawning chasms far below.</p>
<p class='c001'>After leaving the Rockies we passed into the
Selkirk Range, and crossed and recrossed the great
Frazer River, with its high rocks and great boulders.
The river is full of salmon, and in a clear pool we
saw at least forty or fifty big fish basking. The
Indians catch them in great quantities, and we
passed several little encampments where queer-looking
strings of red stuff were hanging from long sticks,
which we were told was the salmon.</p>
<div id='b015' class='figcenter id004'>
<img src='images/i_b015.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>IN THE HEART OF THE ROCKIES.</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>Here and there were little wigwams by the river-bank,
with Indians and their papooses, forming
<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>picturesque groups, some wading in the creeks, or
busy at work hanging up the salmon to dry in the
sun.</p>
<p class='c001'>The scenery as we neared Vancouver became less
wild. Mount Baker, over fifteen thousand feet high,
rose up solitary and grand, its snow-capped summit
standing out like a white pyramid against the deep
blue of the sky. We were fortunate in seeing it in
all its beauty, as it is generally hidden in clouds.</p>
<p class='c001'>Vancouver is a clean, well-built town at the mouth
of the Frazer River. The harbour there is large
enough for men-of-war to anchor in, and there we
found our steamer, the <em>Empress of India</em>, awaiting us--a
fine boat of 6,000 tons, painted white and built
on the lines of a large yacht. We spent Sunday,
the day after our arrival, in visiting the park near
Vancouver, where the famous big trees are to be seen--cedars,
firs, and spruce; one, perhaps the largest in
the world, measures sixty feet round, and a carriage
and pair of horses can go inside the trunk, which
is hollow. The forest is almost tropical with its
luxuriant vegetation and beautiful ferns. Wild
animals are to be found there, such as deer,
panthers, and a kind of lion, but the latter are
rarely seen now near the town.</p>
<p class='c001'>The voyage between Vancouver and Yokohama
takes fourteen days. I was glad to find on board a
very nice-looking set of passengers, mostly English.
The first day or two we took each other’s measure
cautiously, and limited the conversation to a few
<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>polite nothings, but before the end of the voyage
many of us were firm friends.</p>
<p class='c001'>There were about a hundred first-class passengers,
and three hundred miserable-looking Chinese in the
steerage. Many of them looked wretchedly ill, and
we saw a number of long black boxes in the hold,
which we heard afterwards were coffins. It seems
that the one desire of a Chinaman is to be buried in
his native land, otherwise he believes that his soul
will go into some low animal instead of to Paradise.
Just before sailing at midnight, I noticed a long line
of Chinese passing up the gangway to the steamer.
Before being admitted, they were carefully examined
by the ship’s doctor. Many poor wretches were turned
back, discovered to be suffering from some fatal
chest disease very prevalent amongst the Chinese.
As it was, I believe, there were several deaths on
board, in which case the steamship company was
bound under contract to convey the Chinese passenger,
alive or dead, to his destination.</p>
<p class='c001'>Our stewards on board were all Chinamen, and
most quick and willing. They had all very long
pigtails tied with black silk at the ends, and little
black caps with red tassels on their heads. When
waiting at table they wore butcher-blue garments
down to their heels, white cuffs; and their funny
little feet were encased in white shoes with black
rosettes. They had sad, old-looking faces, but were
really quite cheerful, and talked incessantly in their
queer pigeon-English. I longed to send one home
<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>as a present to our old Rector, who always described
our Norfolk servants as ‘the curse of the age.’</p>
<p class='c001'>An amusement committee was soon organized on
board, and by the end of the first week we were all
busily engaged in Bridge, Chess, Halma, and other
tournaments--cricket matches, athletic sports, and
one or two dances when the weather was sufficiently
calm. The Pacific Ocean rather belies its
name, as typhoons and severe storms prevail at
times, and we met one battered-looking sailing-ship,
which reported very rough weather off the
Japanese coast. However, we were most fortunate
during the whole voyage in having nothing worse
than a stiff breeze on one or two occasions, although
that was quite sufficient to send many of the passengers,
including myself, to their berths; but my
fears of being ‘battened down’ were never realized.</p>
<p class='c001'>In consequence of continually travelling westward,
when we reached the meridian of 180° from Greenwich,
we were told that a day would be dropped to
equalize matters. Consequently, after going to bed
one Sunday night, we woke up to find it was
Tuesday morning, and our missing day was never
recovered until, on our voyage home to England, we
sailed eastward. As there was much variety of
opinion as to the reason of the missing day, one of
the passengers offered a prize for the best poem
describing <em>why</em> we must lose a day, <em>where</em> it goes to,
and <em>what</em> is done with it. About twenty of the passengers
sent in verses, which were read aloud by the
<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>Captain in the saloon and voted for. The prize was
won by an American missionary. Not that his was
by any means the best poem, but the entire missionary
party--there was a large gathering of them
on board--all arranged beforehand to vote for their
dear brother, a rather unfair proceeding.</p>
<p class='c001'>During the voyage a stupid practical joke was
played, of which I was one of the chief victims. An
Australian lady and her daughter sent out invitations
to a tea-party in honour of the daughter’s birthday.
About a dozen of us were invited, including the
Captain and my father and me. A sumptuous
spread was prepared--cakes, sweets of all kinds,
and a delicious-looking soufflé, which our hostess
particularly begged us to try. I innocently put a
spoonful into my mouth, when I discovered to my
disgust it was made of nothing but beaten-up soap--the
most horrible concoction imaginable. Two or
three other people at the table followed suit, and our
feelings can be better imagined than described. It
took, indeed, some time before I recovered from the
effects.</p>
<p class='c001'>Nemesis, however, awaited the originators of this
unpleasant trick. A trial by jury was decided upon.
Judge, counsel, and jury were got together, and large
notices were placed about the ship saying that a most
cold-blooded attempt at wholesale murder by poison
had been attempted, but fortunately, with no fatal
results; that the police had every reason to believe
that jealousy was at the bottom of it, and so on.</p>
<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>After this, the Australian lady and her daughter
found life on board ship not altogether so delightful
as they had expected, but began to realize that it is
sometimes unwise to play practical jokes. The trial
took place two evenings later in the saloon, which
was arranged as much as possible like a court-room.
The judge, an English Colonel, arrayed in a long
scarlet cloak and a wig, sat at a table. The prisoners
were placed in chairs on another table, guarded by a
policeman. The counsel for the plaintiffs and the
defendants had wigs made by the ship’s barber, a
man of resource, who painted us up to represent our
various characters, making the three victims who
had swallowed the soap appear ghastly with white
chalk. The jury was composed of seven ladies.
There were also six witnesses, an usher, and a clerk
of the courts.</p>
<p class='c001'>The counsel on both sides spoke well. The
defence was that soap was harmless and good to
eat, and a witness was called who was really a soap
manufacturer at Shanghai. After the jury had
retired for some minutes, they returned with the
verdict ‘Guilty,’ at which the two prisoners turned
pale and dissolved into tears. The judge, looking
very stern, after a short speech on the iniquity of
practical jokes, sentenced the prisoners to be taken
on their arrival at Yokohama to be tattooed on their
wrists with the words ‘Pears’ Soap.’ Needless to say,
this threat was not carried into effect; but I think
the offenders were already sufficiently punished.
<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>Early the following morning my father called me to
see the first glimpse of Japan--a faint outline of blue
hills against the horizon, which gradually became
more and more distinct until by mid-day we anchored
in Japan waters, and our long, pleasant voyage was
at an end.</p>
<hr class='c016' />
<p class='c001'>On landing at Yokohama, we took rickshaws to
the Grand Hotel, a large English building on the
Bund facing the harbour. Never shall I forget my
first ride in the quaint little carriage resembling a
small buggy, only instead of having a horse in the
shafts, there was a funny little brown grinning
man, dressed in a blue cotton garment, barefooted,
with a large white hat like a mushroom on his head,
on which was printed his name and number. He
started off at a steady trot and, after the first feeling
of insecurity had passed, I thoroughly enjoyed the
motion and was quite sorry when we, with our luggage,
which had followed us in a long line of rickshaws,
were deposited at the steps of the hotel.</p>
<p class='c001'>I was much amused the morning after my arrival
before I was dressed to receive visits from three
Chinese tailors. They marched calmly into my room
at various times, without waiting for me to answer
their knock, bringing patterns and begging me to
patronize them. The last had hardly departed when
another visitor appeared, in the shape of a dealer in
curios. He proceeded to strew my room with
brocades, embroideries and every conceivable knick-knack.
<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>I was unable to resist a quaint little Japanese
clock, a small bronze Buddha, and an embroidered
silk kimono, for which treasures I afterwards found
I had paid about three times their value, though I
fondly imagined I had made excellent bargains.</p>
<p class='c001'>There was a charming view from the veranda of
my room. The harbour was gay with Japanese sanpans,<a id='rA' /><a href='#fA' class='c017'><sup>[A]</sup></a>
little sailing-boats,--here and there a man-of-war
and a couple of mail-steamers. Late that
afternoon I saw the <em>Empress of India</em> steaming slowly
out of the harbour, bound for Hongkong. It seemed
rather like saying good-bye to an old friend, and I
felt a little homesick as I watched my last link with
the old world disappear into the dim distance.</p>
<hr class='c018' />
<div class='footnote' id='fA'>
<p class='c001'><a href='#rA'>A</a>. Japanese boats.</p>
</div>
<hr class='c018' />
<div class='chapter'>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>
<h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER III <br /> <span class='fss'>EARLY DAYS IN JAPAN</span></h2>
</div>
<p class='c015'>A new friend--A Japanese dinner--Japanese temples--An
earthquake--A fire in Yokohama.</p>
<div class='c009'>
<img class='drop-capi' src='images/i_b023.jpg' width='150' height='318' alt='' />
</div><p class='drop-capi1_0'>
The first few weeks after our
arrival in Japan would have
been rather dull, as my father
had to leave at once for Tokio
on business, had I not made
the acquaintance of a girl staying
in the hotel who was also
travelling with her father in
Japan. Pauline, as she was
called, was a few years older
than myself, a clever girl with
very decided opinions on most
subjects. She was also an only
child, and her father, who was
an invalid, gave way to her in
everything. For some reason
or other she took a great fancy to me at first sight.
We soon became good friends and I was delighted to
<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>have someone to go about with as I had always longed
for a girl companion. We explored the streets of
Yokohama together, picking up a few words of
Japanese which enabled us to make purchases and
direct our rickshaw coolies. What delightful drives
we had, going out sometimes far into the country
with green rice-fields on either side and here and
there a little tea-house where we would stop to rest
and have a cup of the honourable tea!</p>
<p class='c001'>One evening my father took us both to dine at a
Japanese restaurant to have a real Japanese dinner.
On arriving, we had to take off our shoes before
entering the house and were then taken to a room
with absolutely no furniture, but divided by screens.
The floor was covered with spotless matting and
some little cushions on which we sat in various
attitudes. The Japanese way of sitting on one’s
heels is far too fatiguing to try for long.</p>
<p class='c001'>First a little nasan (servant) appeared bowing
to the floor, bringing tea in tiny cups and some
cakes made of sweet beans; then three charming
little geishas (dancing girls) entered, dressed in
scarlet-embroidered kimonos and bright sashes.
Their faces were carefully painted, and their black
hair decorated with many-coloured pins. They were
the dearest little people imaginable, not more than
thirteen or fourteen years old, with pretty little
hands and feet and charming, graceful manners. A
lacquer tray was placed before each of us on the
floor with a cup of saké, the national drink--something
<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>like sherry and water, but with a burning taste,
and most intoxicating. As water-drinking is dangerous
in Japan we had to content ourselves with
tea. Bowls of soup were first brought us with large
pieces of fish and some strange-looking morsels floating
in it. These we chased about with our chopsticks
with little success, much to the amusement of
the geishas, who sat in a row watching us, laughing
merrily and evidently discussing our clothes and
appearance.</p>
<p class='c001'>The next dish was raw fish cut in slices, with some
green and very nasty sauce made from seaweed; then
came a course of fried fish, after which there was a
dance by the two geishas--wonderfully graceful and
pretty. It consisted chiefly in the waving of fans
and the revolving on one leg to the melodious strains
of a samisen, which resembles anything rather than
what we call music. Still, it seemed to suit the
dance and the strange surroundings.</p>
<p class='c001'>Shrimps in batter was the nicest dish that we
tasted, followed by a concoction of fermented turnip
in slices and cabbage-stalks soaked in vinegar; and
finally a bowl of rice was served, always the last
course at a Japanese dinner.</p>
<p class='c001'>Spoons and forks were given us, but we stuck
manfully to our chopsticks. It was a polite way of
not eating more than absolutely necessary. Two
more dances finished our entertainment.</p>
<p class='c001'>On leaving we were each presented with a fried
fish in a little wooden box for good luck, and the
<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>little geishas and nasans followed us to our rickshaws,
calling out as we left: ‘Tum adain soone!
Sayonara!’</p>
<div id='b026' class='figcenter id005'>
<img src='images/i_b026.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>‘TUM ADAIN SOONE! SAYONARA!’</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>The Shinto and Buddhist temples round Yokohama
are curious and interesting with their stone
lanterns and little lacquer shrines. Most of them
are built of wood painted red. Those in the town
are generally crowded with people constantly coming
and going, some buying prayers on rice-paper for
their own particular want, price one sen (quarter of a
farthing), others only gossiping and strolling about.</p>
<div id='b027' class='figcenter id004'>
<img src='images/i_b027.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>ONE OF THE SHINTO TEMPLES.</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>Outside some of the temples is to be seen the
bronze or wooden figure of a god enclosed in a kind
of cage covered with wire-netting. These figures are
literally plastered over with little pellets of paper
<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>prayers which the people chew in their mouths and
throw or spit at the image. If the paper sticks on
the figure their petition is answered; if, on the other
hand, it remains in the netting their prayer is not
heard--a true relic of old Japanese superstitions.
The great bronze Buddha at Kamakura is very
<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>wonderful, and contains a small temple. The eyes
of the figure are of solid gold.</p>
<div id='b028' class='figcenter id006'>
<img src='images/i_b028.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>THE GREAT BRONZE BUDDHA.</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>At one of the temples which Pauline and I visited
a sacred horse is kept in a stall, and close by small
trays of corn are sold and given to the horse to do
duty as prayers. Needless to say, the poor beast is
almost as broad as it is long.</p>
<p class='c001'>We had our first experience of an earthquake soon
after our arrival in Yokohama. It was not a severe
shock, but quite enough to alarm the visitors at the
Grand Hotel, who came rushing out on the landings
and corridors in the strangest and most sketchy
attires. I hardly like to describe the appearance of
one or two visions I met as I ran out of my room to
see what had happened. One lady was tearing downstairs
followed by her maid holding out a dressing-gown,
<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>which she vainly endeavoured to persuade her
mistress to put on. Two old maiden ladies, who
had arrived only the day before, insisted on the
manager of the hotel hiring them two rickshaws,
although it was nearly midnight, and in them the
two agitated spinsters spent the rest of the night
driving slowly up and down the Bund (parade), to
be prepared in case of further alarms. I saw them
the next morning looking very pale and weary, but
still holding on their laps bundles of underclothing,
several bags and a miserable little pet dog.</p>
<p class='c001'>One or two cracks in the ceilings and walls of the
hotel was all the damage done by the shock that
night.</p>
<p class='c001'>A fire is almost as much dreaded as an earthquake
in Japan, and, unfortunately, is of common occurrence
owing to the houses in the native quarters of
the towns being built entirely of wood and paper.</p>
<p class='c001'>A few nights after the earthquake scare I was
awakened at about 2 a.m. by a brilliant glare in my
room and the noise of many hurrying footsteps
passing the hotel. Looking out of my window, I
saw what was apparently the entire native quarter
of Yokohama in a blaze. Flames and sparks were
leaping high into the air and great clouds of smoke
were pouring down the street. Quickly flinging on
a few clothes, I hurried to Pauline’s room, which
was next mine, and found her already half dressed.
It needed but little persuasion on her part to convince
me that the one and only thing to be done was
<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>to go and see what we could of the fire from a safe
distance. We crept downstairs and out of a side-door
into the street, which was by this time full of
little figures running rapidly in the same direction,
all carrying lanterns in their hands. I then remembered
that our passports, which had been given us
by the British Consul only a few days previously,
notified that no one was to attend a fire on horseback,
or without carrying a lantern. I could well
understand the danger there would have been riding
amongst this excited crowd of little Japs, but what
were we to do without a lantern? Suddenly I
remembered I had my purse in my pocket, and
seeing two shabby-looking boys carrying a light just
in front of me, I stopped them, and holding out
a yen (dollar), pointed to their precious lantern.
They understood my signals and, grinning broadly,
snatched at the money, handed me the lantern and
scampered off.</p>
<p class='c001'>Pauline and I, clinging closely to each other, were
swept on in the crowd, which every moment grew
denser, until we found ourselves on the edge of the
moat separating the native quarter from the settlement.</p>
<p class='c001'>As it seemed hopeless to attempt to put out the
fire, which every moment attacked fresh houses,
figures of men could be seen jumping from roof to
roof and tearing down houses still untouched to stop
the flames going further. The fierce glare lit up the
pale, excited faces of the thousands of little spectators
<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>swaying in one moving mass backwards and forwards,
whilst the clashing of bells from every quarter of the
town--one of the regulations in case of a fire--the
shouts of the crowd, and the crackling of the burning
wood, all added to the strangely horrible, yet fascinating
sight. The heat and smoke became almost
unbearable, sparks began to fall on us and one had
even scorched my hair. It seemed probable, unless
the wind changed, that the fire might cross the
moat, in which case our lives would be in danger. I
turned and asked Pauline whether we had not better
try to get out of the crowd and return home. To
my horror I found she was looking ghastly and ready
to faint. The heat and excitement had been too
much for her. I was in despair, knowing it would
be impossible to help her out in such a crush. At
that moment, to my intense relief, I saw my father’s
head and shoulders towering above the crowd not far
behind. I managed to call loud enough to attract
his attention, and he soon pushed his way through
to where we were standing. After some difficulty
we managed to get poor Pauline safely to a cooler
and less crowded spot. When she had revived a
little, we returned to the hotel half dead with fatigue,
our clothes ruined, and both of us thoroughly ashamed
of ourselves. I think my long-suffering parent thought
we had been punished sufficiently, as he did not refer
to our escapade, and Pauline’s father never knew
in what danger his idolized daughter had been that
night.</p>
<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>The next day we heard that over four hundred
houses had been destroyed in the fire and three lives
lost. The loss of property was not great, as the
Japanese keep all their valuables in ‘go-downs’--small
fireproof buildings, which alone remained
standing and unhurt when we visited the spot a few
days later. Even before the ashes were cold the
plucky little people were hard at work marking out
fresh sites for new buildings, and three or four months
later it was difficult to believe that a fire could ever
have taken place in that neighbourhood.</p>
<p class='c001'>Shortly after this Pauline confided to me her great
desire to see something of Japanese life in the interior,
far away from Treaty-port towns and European
hotels. Naturally, I also became seized with a
similar desire, so, after much persuasion and many
entreaties, our parents gave their consent to our
making a ten days’ tour, accompanied by a highly-recommended
and most respectable guide and interpreter,
by name Idaka. He was a most superior
person, with a fair knowledge of the English language,
and quite deliciously ugly. I liked that guide;
he told me I was a most intelligent walker, and had
a noble foot. Pauline insisted on calling him a fool--of
course not to his face, as ‘bacha,’ Japanese for
fool, is a terrible term to apply to anyone in Japan--but
even she admitted he certainly was useful.</p>
<p class='c001'>During our absence Pauline’s father decided to
remain quietly at Yokohama, whilst mine had still
much important business to do in Tokio.</p>
<div class='chapter'>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>
<h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER IV <br /> <span class='fss'>A JAPANESE HARROGATE</span></h2>
</div>
<p class='c015'>A trip to the Japanese Harrogate--A curious travelling companion--A
Japanese inn--A mountain ride--At the
sulphur springs--A sulphur bath--A night in a tea-house--Sad
news.</p>
<div class='c009'>
<img class='drop-capi' src='images/i_b033.jpg' width='150' height='243' alt='' />
</div><p class='drop-capi1_0'>
As our passports seemed to permit us
to go anywhere we liked, except to
a fire on horseback, we decided,
after much consultation with
Idaka, to go by train to Karuizawa,
and from there to visit the
hot sulphur baths at Kusatzu, a
place not generally known to
globe-trotters, where we were told
we should see much to interest us.</p>
<p class='c001'>Accordingly the next morning
we bade an affectionate farewell to our parents and
also to the kind little manager of the Grand Hotel
at Yokohama, and started for Kodzu in the quaint
little train, which goes at the rate of, at least, ten
miles an hour. Oh what a hot, steamy, journey
it was! and we anything but looked forward to
<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>the five hours’ journey which lay before us. However,
we rejoiced in having the carriage to ourselves,
which was something to be thankful for.
Idaka, very busy and important, travelled third class
in charge of the luggage, clad in a marvellous costume,
consisting of a scarlet and white blazer, thick homespun
shooting stockings, patent-leather shoes rather
the worse for wear, and a deer-stalking cap, all evidently
‘cast-offs’ of former employers. We quite
regretted that we had nothing to give him to add to
the collection.</p>
<p class='c001'>Just, however, as the train was starting, much to
our annoyance a stout little Japanese jumped into
the carriage and took his seat at the opposite end of
the compartment to where we were sitting. He was
a pale-faced little man, dressed in a black frock-coat,
dark trousers and a top-hat. He appeared very
much oppressed with the heat, but that was not
unnatural with a temperature of about 90° in the
shade.</p>
<div id='b035' class='figcenter id007'>
<img src='images/i_b035.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>WE START FOR KODZU (<em>p.</em> 33.)</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>Finding our companion very quiet and inoffensive,
we paid no further attention to him. An hour
passed, Pauline was fast asleep, and I suppose I also
must have closed my eyes, for presently, looking
across the carriage, I saw to my astonishment,
instead of the little black-coated man, a somewhat
slighter figure, in a set of gray dittos and cap to
match, quietly reading his Japanese papers as if
nothing had happened, a neatly-folded suit of clothes
on the seat beside him. I was somewhat startled at
<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>this curious transformation, and stories of disguised
criminals rushed into my mind, when up jumped the
little man and proceeded calmly to divest himself
of his gray suit, folding up the garments he took off
and placing them beside the black pile. Feeling
extremely embarrassed, I gazed severely out of the
window for several minutes. Pauline still slept. On
hearing the rustle of a paper, I ventured to look
round, and there sat our strange fellow-traveller, deep
in his ‘nichi-nichi shimbun’ (Japanese newspaper),
clad from head to foot in white duck and cricketing-cap
to match. ‘Now,’ thought I, ‘I should hope
his toilette is completed.’ No such thing. After
about half an hour the little man again seemed
restless and overcome with heat, and after casting a
despairing and perspiring glance around him, he got
up and reaching down from the rack a small black
bag, he pulled out a ‘ukata’ and ‘obi’ (the national
dress of a Japanese). Seeing the same performance
about to begin with regard to the white suit, I
coughed violently; but that having no effect and
escape being impossible I feigned sleep, and, when
I again ventured to open my eyes, a little thin figure
sat in the corner in correct Japanese attire. Three
neatly-folded bundles lay at his side,--hat, boots,
and all.</p>
<p class='c001'>Fortunately, this was the last metamorphosis that
our strange companion indulged in, and soon afterwards
we changed trains, leaving him in full possession
of the carriage; so I shall never know whether
<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>he redressed himself before the end of his journey, or
how he disposed of the remainder of his wardrobe.
It was certainly a novel way of carrying luggage.</p>
<p class='c001'>Pauline was very indignant when I told her of the
occurrence. She said had she been awake it would
never have happened.</p>
<p class='c001'>At last, after crawling along for five hours across
the burning plain, we reached Kodzu; and after a
short rest and a few little cups of yellow tea and
some peppermint sticks at the tea-house in the village,
we started off again in the little mountain train for
Karuizawa. Thankful enough we were, after passing
through twenty-six pitch-black tunnels reeking with
sulphur and smoke, to arrive at last, exhausted and
half-choked, but safe and sound at our journey’s end.</p>
<p class='c001'>Karuizawa is situated on a large plain, formed
by the lava from the great volcano Asama, and is
about four thousand feet above the sea-level.</p>
<p class='c001'>It is the strangest and weirdest spot imaginable.
For miles and miles in every direction as far as the
eye can reach stretches a vast plain covered with
pampas-grass and wild-flowers of every description,
and hemmed in by long ranges of blue mountains in
the far distance. In the centre of the plain rises
Asamayama like a great black pyramid, absolutely
bare; and from the summit a thin column of smoke
can be seen and an occasional flame, as if to give
warning of the fires down below.</p>
<p class='c001'>The village of Karuizawa, some little distance
from the base, is composed of a collection of hideous
<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>little wooden houses, principally the summer residences
of missionaries from all parts of Japan, a
small English church, only lately built, and a long,
straggling village street, with a few small native
shops of a primitive nature.</p>
<div id='b039' class='figcenter id008'>
<img src='images/i_b039.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>IDAKA, THE GUIDE.</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>Idaka had taken a room for us at the chief tea-house
in the village, and, although the smell of the
<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>‘daikon’ (fermented turnip) which permeated every
corner was not conducive to appetite, we managed
to make a fair supper of the tinned food we had
brought with us, supplemented by some native rice
and hot ‘saké’ (native drink).</p>
<p class='c001'>We were escorted to our bedroom by the landlord.
Either from mistaken politeness or curiosity, he
declined to leave us, repeatedly bowing and apologizing
for the want of comfort in his miserable
establishment, and assuring us how highly he appreciated
the honour of entertaining such distinguished
guests. All this in the most excruciating English.
Hints that we wished to retire to bed were of no
avail; and at last Pauline, unable to restrain her
impatience any longer, drew back the ‘shoji’ (sliding
panel) and, with an imperious wave of her hand,
pointed from our little tormentor to the door, and
said: ‘Go, wretch!’ This had the desired effect.
He departed, bowing even lower than before, still
murmuring to himself ‘honourable distinction.’</p>
<p class='c001'>‘Well,’ I said to Pauline as, closing the panel carefully,
she turned towards me, ‘what about Japanese
politeness? I thought it was the only thing that
really was important out here. You have put your
foot in it.’ Pauline’s face was a study. Notwithstanding
her manner, which was most impressive, she
was at heart extremely nervous and highly strung. It
was some time before I could assure her that doubtless
the little man was quite as glad to go as we
were to get rid of him, and that there was no fear
<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>of his detaining us by force or showing any resentment.</p>
<p class='c001'>At last, however, we settled ourselves as comfortably
as we could on our ‘futons’ (Japanese mattresses)
on the floor, and slept the sleep of the just.
I have the impression that I saw a figure glide past
the foot of my bed during the night, but I was too
sleepy to rouse myself, and it may have been a
dream.</p>
<p class='c001'>The next morning we were off at sunrise. Pauline
was meekness itself; and the little landlord had
evidently made a very good thing out of us, as he
presented us with some poisonous-looking cakes of a
bright green colour to eat on the journey; the last
we saw of him as we rode down the village street
was a quaint little form bowing backwards and forwards
repeatedly until we were well out of sight.</p>
<p class='c001'>Our cavalcade consisted of Pauline in a rickshaw
drawn by three men, two in the shafts and one
pushing behind. I was on a solid-looking white
pony which we had hired from the village carpenter.
Idaka and the cook rode mules, and three other
mules carried our provisions and baggage.</p>
<p class='c001'>What a glorious morning it was! The sun had
just risen, and the woods through which we passed
for the first couple of hours of our journey seemed
alive with the songs of birds and the hum of myriads
of insects. The climb was a steep one, and we
were glad to arrive on the open moorland, which
stretched for miles around, covered with wild-flowers--poppies,
<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>marguerites, campanulas; red, yellow, and
white lilies, and waving pampas-grass, all in wild
profusion--a perfect blaze of colour. Certainly there
is no place like Japan for wild-flowers.</p>
<p class='c001'>We halted at a little rest-house far away from any
other habitation. The air was very keen, and we
sat round the open fire, built in the ground, whilst
we ate our breakfasts. Our coolies kept up an incessant
chatter the whole time as they gobbled up
their little bowls of rice with their chopsticks. I
think Pauline rather regretted having chosen a rickshaw
instead of a pony, as the path was rough, and
the springs of the ‘kurama’ had seen their best
days; but after all, as I told her, a rickshaw was far
more Japanese, so she could not complain.</p>
<p class='c001'>After a few hours’ ride through a park-like
country--quite different from anything else we had
as yet seen in Japan--we arrived at a curious little
village, and halted for tiffin in what is called the
Town Hall of the place--a wooden hut built on long
posts over a deep ravine. Three sides were open,
except for a little balcony; the posts and the one
wall were covered with Japanese advertisements--such
strange-looking hieroglyphics. Here we rested
an hour. Another steep climb, through scenery
which gradually became wilder and more and more
desolate, brought us about sunset to the village of
Kusatzu (pronounced ‘Koosats’)--a place which has
been noted for centuries for its mineral springs and
baths, and where thousands of sick little Japanese
<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>come every year to try to get cured of various complaints.
Foreigners rarely come to Kusatzu, and, as
we passed down the village street, half the population
turned out to look at us, staring with open eyes
and mouths at the mad Englishwomen.</p>
<p class='c001'>The village is built in a hollow and surrounded
by bare and desolate hills, on which no vegetation of
any kind or description grows. In the centre of the
village a large enclosure is railed in, inside which is
a seething, steaming mass of sulphur rocks and water
at boiling heat. Round this enclosure are large open
bath-houses, with water at different temperatures
and with different mineral properties, as all sorts of
diseases are treated here. The patients spend their
entire day either in the water or standing just outside
awaiting their turn. From time to time the
most unearthly groans are to be heard proceeding
from the baths--a chorus of long-drawn ‘Ohs!’ as
the master of the ceremonies, the doctor of the bath-house,
gives the word of command for the patients
to enter the water. Then a tremendous splashing
ensues, which is caused by the bathers beating the
water to cool it. We were told that each bather
has to beat the water over a hundred times before
entering or leaving the bath. The temperature of
the water in some of the baths is almost incredible,
and the poor creatures must suffer torments. In
the bath-house we passed, we saw rows of heads,
each tied round with a blue handkerchief, rising out
of the steaming, yellow water, and weird-looking
<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>figures were scrambling in and out, each holding a
‘beating board.’ It was a most depressing sight, and
we were both glad to pass to the outskirts of the
village, where Idaka had taken rooms for us.</p>
<p class='c001'>I understand there are about two thousand patients
generally under treatment in Kusatzu, chiefly for
rheumatism and beri-beri. The lepers are separately
treated at some baths two miles away.</p>
<p class='c001'>Pauline was rather anxious to pay a visit to the
lepers, as she remarked, ‘When one is in for a
thing it is best to miss nothing.’ But I stoutly
refused to go. The memory of the poor crippled,
deformed and suffering creatures I had seen in the
streets of Kusatzu was quite enough. In fact, I
found sleep almost impossible that night. The
groans of the unfortunate bathers rang in my ears,
and my dreams were peopled with visions of horrors
of every description.</p>
<p class='c001'>We were lodged in a quaint little cardboard house,
innocent of furniture, but, fortunately, comparatively
clean, and we made ourselves fairly comfortable on a
couple of ‘futons’ which Idaka secured for us; and
we were too tired after our long day to find fault with
our quarters.</p>
<p class='c001'>The next morning I thought I would try the
effects of a warm sulphur swimming-bath attached
to the house. Milky-looking water bubbled up out
of the white rocks, and the sensation as I plunged in
was rather pleasant. After swimming and floating
about for a few minutes, I heard a splash, and looking
<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>round, I saw, to my horror, a dark head rising
out of the water at the other end of the bath. What
on earth to do I knew not. As long as I was in the
water at my end of the bath it was all very well, but,
unfortunately, I had left my clothes hanging on a nail
on the door at the other end! I waited, hoping the
intruder might recognise my predicament and have
the grace to depart. On the contrary, he seemed
prepared to spend hours at his morning ablutions.
Apparently he paid not the smallest attention to
poor me, but went through strange contortions in the
water, accompanying his movements with a weird
incantation I suppose he considered music. Feeling
desperate, as the strong sulphur water was rapidly
making me faint, I waved my arms frantically in
his direction and pointed to my garments on the
door. Then my companion evidently grasped the
situation, and a wide grin spread over his countenance
as he dived down into the water. I waited a
moment, but, as he did not reappear, I scrambled as
fast as I could on to the rocks, rushed to the door,
tore on my clothes, and vanished. Whether the
grinning little face ever appeared again on the surface
I know not, but when I reached my room, breathless
and exhausted, I vowed that nothing on earth would
again tempt me to take a sulphur bath.</p>
<p class='c001'>After breakfast, although still feeling very sleepy
and tired from the effects of my prolonged swim,
Pauline and I started for a walk, escorted by Idaka,
to the ‘Valley of the Iced Winds.’ What a desolate
<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>spot it was! The rocks were of every conceivable
shade and colour--some orange, some green, others
bright yellow and red, encrusted with the mineral
deposit from the little streams with which they were
intersected. Some of the streams were boiling hot,
others icy cold, but all had a strong sulphurous smell;
and we were surprised to see vegetation growing
almost to the edge of the water. In one place, however,
the fumes of sulphur were so strong that no bird
could pass above without being killed, and we were
glad enough to get away, feeling half suffocated.</p>
<p class='c001'>During the rest of the day we explored the
village and made friends with some of the patient
sufferers, who live most of their time when not at
the baths sitting on the rocks in the sun. Some
come every year to Kusatzu, spending all their hard-earned
savings in the hope of deriving benefit by
the treatment; but many looked far too weak and
feeble for such drastic remedies.</p>
<p class='c001'>The following morning we left at 7 a.m. for the
Shibu Pass, a stiff bit of riding; and the cold at the
summit was very piercing--a height of over seven
thousand feet. We were very glad of our tiffin in a
little rest-house, seated close to a peat fire. Pauline
and I had at last accomplished the trick of eating
rice with chopsticks--not an easy matter to the
uninitiated. With that and some hard-boiled eggs
and sandwiches we managed to fortify ourselves for
our downward journey.</p>
<div id='b047' class='figcenter id007'>
<img src='images/i_b047.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>PREPARED FOR THE NIGHT (<em>p.</em> 49).</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>After a brisk tramp of about three hours, we
<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>reached Shibu, a pretty little town situated in a
valley, surrounded by mountains. We found the
tea-house so full, on account of the arrival of a party
of pilgrims on their way to Asamayama, the great
sacred volcano, that we had to do with very small
accommodation--in fact, a large blue mosquito-like
cage only separated us from the rest of the lady
visitors at the tea-house. There being only two spare
rooms, one was reserved for the ladies and the other
for the gentlemen of the party.</p>
<p class='c001'>How we laughed as we lay in our blue cage and
watched the little ladies preparing for the night!
Sleep was practically impossible, owing to the mosquitos
and other lively inhabitants of the room and
the incessant tap-tap of the little Japanese pipes
which, even in her slumbers, a Japanese lady seems
to require.</p>
<p class='c001'>However, as Pauline said, such an experience of
the inner life of the Japanese was worth a little
discomfort, and in the abstract I fully agreed with
her.</p>
<p class='c001'>We were glad to be up betimes the next morning,
and started off again--all in rickshaws--for a pretty,
though hot, ride down to Nagano, where we took the
train. The heat in the plains was intense, but fortunately,
ice was obtainable at all the stations, and
by putting pieces on our heads and in our mouths we
managed to keep alive.</p>
<p class='c001'>It was evening again before we reached Yokohama,
travel-stained, brown and weary, but very well
<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>pleased with ourselves and our trip to the Japanese
Harrogate.</p>
<hr class='c016' />
<p class='c001'>Soon after our return Pauline and her father left
Yokohama for Shanghai. I missed my friend terribly,
and at first felt quite lost without her. We parted
with many promises to write every week to each
other and made numerous plans as to our future
meetings in England. But, alas, how little we can
foresee or direct the future! After three or four long
and cheery letters from my friend, she suddenly
ceased writing, and my letters to her remained unanswered.
Some time afterwards we learnt that she
had caught typhoid fever in Shanghai, and died after
a week’s illness. I suppose her poor old father had
not the heart to write and tell us the sad news, but
we heard that he had left for England almost immediately
after his daughter’s death.</p>
<div class='chapter'>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>
<h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER V <br /> <span class='fss'>AN IMPERIAL GARDEN-PARTY</span></h2>
</div>
<p class='c015'>Silk dresses and frock-coats--A disappointed Colonel--The
Royal procession--The chrysanthemums--I am presented--A
Japanese play--Japanese royal sport--The Mikado
and his subjects.</p>
<div class='c009'>
<img class='drop-capi' src='images/i_b051.jpg' width='150' height='272' alt='' />
</div><p class='drop-capi1_0'>
We had been in Japan nearly
three months when we were
invited to attend the chrysanthemum
garden-party
given by the Emperor and
Empress each November in
honour of His Majesty’s birthday.
Invitations are sent but a few days
beforehand, as the date of the
party depends on the state of the
chrysanthemums. Only the Corps
Diplomatique, Government officials,
and a few globe-trotters are invited;
the latter obtain their invitations
through their own Legations. As
it is almost the only occasion when Their Imperial
Majesties are seen in public, I was delighted at the
idea of going.</p>
<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>Our invitation-cards were very large and thick,
with the Imperial crest at the top and a gold border
of chrysanthemums. The writing was in Japanese
characters, but enclosed in the same envelope was
a slip of paper in French, saying that ladies were to
appear in silk dresses and gentlemen in frock-coats
and top-hats. Not possessing a suitable garment,
I was puzzled at first to know what to wear, but I
eventually succeeded, with the assistance of one of
the little Chinese tailors, in converting a blue silk
evening frock into one suitable for the garden-party.</p>
<p class='c001'>The day was fortunately fine and exceptionally
warm for November. We started from the Imperial
Hotel in Tokio, where we were staying, at about
half-past one, Colonel S. and his wife from Hongkong
sharing a carriage with us.</p>
<p class='c001'>Japanese horses are willing little beasts, not much
larger than ponies. Our coachman drove full gallop
through the streets, and the ‘betto,’ or footman,
ran along in front shouting at the crowds to get out
of the way. How an accident was avoided I do not
know, as the streets seem to be the playground of all
the children in Tokio; and I thought several of the
little doll-like figures must have been run over. Our
driver and betto wore dark blue linen with a crest
embroidered on their backs, and large white pith
hats fastened under the chin with a strap.</p>
<div id='b053' class='figcenter id007'>
<img src='images/i_b053.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>OUR INVITATION-CARDS WERE VERY LARGE AND THICK (<em>p.</em> 52).</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>Colonel S., who was only passing through Japan
on his way to England, had no frock-coat with him,
but in his well-cut dark suit and top-hat we all
<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>thought he could not fail to pass muster. We were
mistaken, however. On our arrival at the palace, we
were ushered into a large hall where a row of officials
in blue-and-gold uniforms were waiting to inspect us.
As the gallant Colonel passed up the room, two of
the officials stepped up to him, pointed to his frockless
coat, began gesticulating wildly and talking
rapidly in Japanese, of which the Colonel did not
understand a word. My father, who speaks Japanese,
attempted to explain matters, but without success.
The discomfited and disappointed officer had to
retire, leaving his wife, who fortunately had on the
required silk dress, to go on with us alone.</p>
<p class='c001'>After walking about half a mile through the
grounds, which are very beautiful, over little bridges
and up little winding paths, we arrived at some large
tents, where the chrysanthemums were on show.
Numerous groups of people were dotted about--Japanese
officers and officials in uniform; others in
grotesquely-cut frock-coats and opera-hats; their
wives and daughters in European dress; also members
of the different legations and consulates. I could not
help thinking how far better the little Japanese ladies
would have looked in their own national costume,
but European dress is the strict order at Court.
The scene was a very picturesque and animated
one, and great excitement prevailed when, about
half-past two, the Emperor and Empress were
announced to be coming. The Corps Diplomatique
arranged themselves in line--first the French Minister
<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>as <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><em>doyen</em></span>, with his wife, daughters, secretaries, and
Belgian staff; then followed the English, German,
American, Spanish, Dutch, Italian, Russian, Chinese
and Korean diplomats, the two latter looking very
picturesque in their quaint head-dresses and long
robes. The remainder of the guests stood in a
group a little apart.</p>
<p class='c001'>As the Royal procession appeared in sight, walking
slowly up the winding paths, the band played the
Japanese National Anthem and there was dead
silence amongst the crowd.</p>
<p class='c001'>The Emperor walked first in full General’s uniform,
quite alone. He is a tall man for a Japanese, stout
and extremely plain. He had a stern, somewhat
forbidding expression, which he always wore in
public; and as Sir Edwin Arnold says, ‘The
slightest bend of his brow in salutation appears
to be the result of superhuman effort of reluctant
will.’ Yet he is idolized by his people; it is said
that his power is enormous, while no one knows how
he controls and rules the Empire from the privacy
of his walled-in palace.</p>
<p class='c001'>Behind him walked the Empress, quite alone also,
dressed in crimson brocaded satin with a little Paris
bonnet to match, followed by her ladies-in-waiting
and the Court officials and Ministers of State--amongst
them the Marquess Ito, Count Oyama, and
General Yamagata, all well-known names in Europe
at the present time.</p>
<p class='c001'>They bowed low as they passed us, and we kept
<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>up a succession of bobs and curtsies until we joined
into line and followed the procession into the flower-tents.</p>
<div id='b057' class='figcenter id007'>
<img src='images/i_b057.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>THE GARDENS ARE VERY BEAUTIFUL (<em>p.</em> 55).</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>Apparently the great feature at a chrysanthemum
show, from a Japanese point of view, is not the size
and shape of each flower, but the number of blossoms
on a plant flowering at the same time. Three of the
tents contained but one enormous plant in each;
with from one to two thousand blooms all the same
size and colour. We were told that one of these
plants alone requires a gardener’s entire time to look
after it, as the difficulty is to get all the flowers to
perfection at once. In other tents, chrysanthemums
with small, different-coloured flowers had been
trained over wires to represent figures of people and
animals, more curious than beautiful.</p>
<p class='c001'>After the flowers had been inspected, the Emperor
and Empress entered a large tent, where the presentations
were made. Each Legation went in turn to
felicitate the Emperor on his birthday and to bow to
the Empress. All had to walk backwards out of the
tent past the Court ladies and officials--not an easy
task. With some the Emperor said a few words.
His face when smiling lighted up, changing his
morose expression to one of almost benevolence. I
own to feeling horribly nervous when my turn came
to be presented by our Minister’s wife, and breathed a
sigh of relief when I returned safe and sound from
the Royal tent without having utterly disgraced
myself by tumbling over my train, or knocking down
<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>one of the little officials who were stationed at every
available corner.</p>
<p class='c001'>Small tables were placed about on the grass, and
we were offered sandwiches of foie-gras, caviare and
chicken, creams, ices, and champagne.</p>
<p class='c001'>It was amusing to watch some of the Japanese
guests, not only partaking of a hearty meal, but
quietly secreting sweetmeats and cakes in their
pockets, probably for some little child at home.</p>
<p class='c001'>The royal party, after having some light refreshment
at a table a little apart from the rest, then rose
to leave. The National Anthem was again played,
and we all followed as we liked.</p>
<p class='c001'>At one end of the gardens a play was going on.
No stage, only a ring of chairs and a big sheet. The
actors were being made up and dressed in sight
of everyone. Men clothed in black, with masks,
arranged the scenes, and were supposed to be invisible.
The play was ‘The Forty-seven Ronins.’
All the Japanese in the audience held handkerchiefs
to their eyes and wept copiously, although I failed to
see anything at all pathetic in the wild gesticulations
of the actors. The famous Danjiro was there--the
Irving of Japan. Amongst the audience the poetess
of the Empress was pointed out to us, a curiously
shrivelled-up little lady in a stiff green-and-white
brocade, with a large bustle, green shoes and
stockings, and a wonderful erection of flowers and
feathers on her head. This costume must have done
duty on these occasions for many years, to judge by
<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>its antique style; but the little lady was evidently
very proud of her toilette. Three of the young
Princesses, pretty little girls, with round, merry
faces and bright dark eyes, were also spectators. We
did not see the Crown Prince, a delicate, consumptive
youth, already married and a father. The
Empress is not his mother. She is childless, but
the Japanese law has sanctioned the adoption of this
boy, the son of one of the Emperor’s unofficial wives,
as heir to the throne. I am told, however, that the
Crown Prince looks upon the Empress as his
mother.</p>
<p class='c001'>The Emperor has five unofficial wives, all ladies of
good family, who have separate establishments in the
palace grounds, but are never seen in public; in fact,
of the private life of the palace the outside world
knows nothing. Japan is one of the oldest dynasties
in the world, and the Japanese were living very much
as they do now, except for electric light and European
dress, when we Westerners were savages in
blue paint and feathers.</p>
<p class='c001'>In another part of the palace grounds are the
duck-ponds and decoys. The killing of these wild
duck, which come in great quantities every winter to
the moat and decoys, is held to be a royal sport in
Japan, and they are considered more or less sacred.
The official who showed us the decoy begged us to
keep quite silent, and we walked on tiptoe, in single
file, up a narrow path to a small wooden hut, where
we were allowed to peep at the sacred birds through
<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>little slits in the wood. There were already great
numbers of them collected together, all apparently
quite tame. The ‘sport’ is this: There are long
dykes, with a high net at the end. The ‘sportsmen’
stand on either side with large hand-nets, and the
duck are driven into the dykes from the pond, and,
not being able to get out, rise, when they are caught
in the nets and their necks wrung. It is supposed to
be a great disgrace to miss a bird.</p>
<p class='c001'>We were afterwards taken to the aviaries, where
we saw a collection of birds of every description, from
a Cochin-China hen to an eagle. There was a parrot
there which is known to be a hundred and twenty
years old, possibly more. They were all beautifully
kept and cared for. One of the attendants amused
us by saying: ‘Is it not a sign of the Emperor’s
good heart to have so many birds?’ But when we
asked him how often His Majesty came to see them,
he said: ‘Oh, he never <em>comes</em> here.’</p>
<p class='c001'>The Imperial Palace is an enormous building of
wood surrounded by a moat. The rooms are decorated
with valuable paintings, the walls hung with
‘kakimomos’ by celebrated Japanese artists, and old
embroideries; the Emperor also possesses a priceless
collection of gold lacquer and ivories. The palace is
fitted up with electric light, but the Emperor considers
it dangerous, so the rooms are lighted by
thousands of candles.</p>
<p class='c001'>The palace grounds cover many acres in the centre
of Tokio--the highest position in the city. Imperial
<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>etiquette forbids that the ruler of the Land of the
Rising Sun should be looked down upon from any
point of view; therefore from his palace windows <em>he</em>
can look down upon every part of the city. For the
same reason, on the rare occasions when His Majesty
passes through the streets of the city, orders are given
for all the upstair window-blinds to be lowered.</p>
<div id='b063' class='figcenter id009'>
<img src='images/i_b063a.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p><span class='fss'>BUTCHER’S.</span></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class='figcenter id009'>
<img src='images/i_b063b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic010'>
<p><span class='fss'>UMBRELLA SHOP.</span><br />QUAINT SIGNBOARDS IN SOME OF THE STREETS, TOKIO.</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>Formerly men, women, and children fell on their
faces as the royal carriage passed by; now they only
bow low, in token of their awe and respect.</p>
<div id='b064' class='figcenter id009'>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>
<img src='images/i_b064a.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p><span class='fss'>POULTRY AND EGG SHOP.</span></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class='figcenter id011'>
<img src='images/i_b064b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p><span class='fss'>JAPANESE TAILOR.</span><br />QUAINT SIGNBOARDS IN SOME OF THE STREETS, TOKIO.</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>Soon after our arrival in Tokio I had a rather
startling experience. I was standing in one of the
streets to watch the Emperor drive past in his
carriage, when suddenly my hat was wrenched off
my head, and I was pushed forward violently by
some heavy hand. On looking round, I saw an
officious little policeman glaring at me, my poor hat
in his clutches. Not until the procession had disappeared
from view could I understand what had
happened, but remained meek and hatless. It seems
the little man considered my attitude towards his
Sovereign was not sufficiently humble, and took
<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>this somewhat drastic way of correcting me. I
must say this was the only occasion when I have experienced
the slightest rudeness or incivility in the
streets of a Japanese town, although I do not consider
that foreigners are altogether beloved in Japan.</p>
<p class='c001'>An artist who painted the portraits of the Emperor
and Empress told me that he had been obliged to do
them almost entirely from photographs, as their Imperial
Majesties are far too sacred to pose as models.
On one occasion he persuaded one of the Court
officials to allow him to stand behind a curtain at a
Royal banquet. Through the curtain he made a little
hole, and was thus enabled to get a glimpse at the
Emperor. Another time he waited patiently for
hours at some place where the Empress was to pass;
but on her arrival all present were obliged to bow
their heads in obeisance, and the poor man could see
nothing. However, the likenesses were considered
good, and the artist received three thousand dollars
for each picture, as well as a large medal, of which
he is very proud.</p>
<div class='chapter'>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>
<h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER VI <br /> <span class='fss'>JAPANESE LADIES</span></h2>
</div>
<p class='c015'>Their habits and ways--Home life--The Honourable Bath--Count
Ito and his wife--Old Japan--Loyalty to husbands--A
mixed marriage--Curious customs--Japanese sayings.</p>
<div class='c009'>
<img class='drop-capi' src='images/i_b066.jpg' width='160' height='261' alt='' />
</div><p class='drop-capi1_0'>
The fair sex in Japan are the most
simple and, at the same time, the
most complicated creatures imaginable.
In their general ideas
and knowledge of the world they
are like children--delightful children,
too--and in their love of
enjoyment and simple pleasures
they retain their youthful simplicity
all their lives.</p>
<p class='c001'>But, on the other hand, it is almost impossible for
a foreigner really to understand their natures. Up
to a certain point a Japanese lady is apparently
friendly, as she greets one on meeting with that easy
grace and courtesy which is one of her peculiar
charms. But one seldom becomes more intimate.
There seems to be a wall of reserve, beyond which it
is impossible to penetrate. I have often attempted
<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>to fathom the cause of this barrier, but without
success; and I find it is the general experience of
those who, like myself, have lived amongst the
Japanese and known them well.</p>
<p class='c001'>Perhaps the natural antipathy which has so long
existed between the Eastern and Western races may
somewhat account for this want of intimacy; and
also, I fear, we Europeans have often wounded the
delicate susceptibilities of our Eastern cousins by our
want of tact, and our tendency to treat their manners
and customs with ridicule, if not contempt.</p>
<p class='c001'>I am speaking more particularly of the ladies of
the upper classes. The little ‘musmee,’ generally
considered by the ordinary globe-trotter to be the
recognised type of a Japanese woman, is no more so
than is the grisette the typical Frenchwoman, or
the English ballet-girl the typical Englishwoman.</p>
<p class='c001'>Nowhere, perhaps, in the world does one find a
more ideal ‘lady’ than amongst the wives and
daughters in fair Japonica.</p>
<p class='c001'>A Japanese lady reminds me of a delicate sea-anemone,
which at the first approach of a rough
hand shrinks into itself, avoiding contact with the
practical hardness of everyday life.</p>
<p class='c001'>She is almost morbidly sensitive, but her natural
pride and politeness forbid her in any way to retaliate.
How little we understand her feelings! A Japanese
<em>never</em> forgets. Sometimes revenge is impossible, but
I have heard of more than one case when a foreigner’s
official position has been lost owing to his wife’s
<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>indiscretion, though he and his wife also may be
entirely ignorant of the cause of his dismissal.</p>
<p class='c001'>In appearance, a Japanese woman is smaller and
of slighter build than a European. Many are distinctly
pretty when young, but they age very quickly,
and with their youth every vestige of good looks
departs. Their complexions are very sallow, but
their faces are generally thickly painted and powdered,
a hard line round the neck showing the point
where art stops and Nature begins.</p>
<div id='b068' class='figcenter id012'>
<img src='images/i_b068.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>‘MANY ARE DISTINCTLY PRETTY WHEN YOUNG.’</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>Beauty, from a Japanese standpoint, consists in a
long, oval face, regular features, almond-shaped eyes
sloping slightly upwards, a high, narrow forehead,
and abundance of smooth, black hair.</p>
<p class='c001'>Their movements are graceful, although the style
of their dress prevents them walking with ease;
<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>their feet and hands are delicately formed, and their
manners unquestionably charming.</p>
<div id='b069' class='figcenter id001'>
<img src='images/i_b069.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>A JAPANESE LADY OF THE UPPER CLASS (<em>p.</em> 68).</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>They take hardly any exercise, and one wonders
sometimes how the little ladies employ their time.
There seems so little to be done in a Japanese house.
To begin with, there are no regular meals. The
shops near at hand supply daily numberless minute
dishes, which seem to be eaten at all hours of the
day and night, a few pecks with those impossible
chopsticks at a time. Nothing is kept in the larder
except some slices of ‘daikon’ (fermented turnip),
some rice, and sweet biscuits.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘The honourable live fish’ is sold by men who
carry round large water-tubs from house to house,
and cut off as much as is required from the unfortunate
fish, replacing the sadly mutilated but
still struggling remains in the tub.</p>
<p class='c001'>Eggs are cheap and plentiful. Bread is never used,
so there is no necessity for an oven.</p>
<p class='c001'>The great stand-by is tea. A Japanese lady is
seldom seen in her home without the quaint little
tea-tray by her side and the inevitable pipe, containing
one whiff of tobacco, which is in constant
requisition.</p>
<p class='c001'>There is practically no furniture in a Japanese
house. The beds consist of large quilted rugs called
‘futons,’ which are rolled up every morning and put
in the cupboards concealed behind the ‘shoji,’ or
panels, in the walls. There are no carpets, curtains,
tables, or chairs, only the straw ‘tatami,’ and a few
small, flat cushions on the floor.</p>
<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>Instead of our European fireplace, a brass or
wooden ‘hibatchi’ (fire-box) is substituted, containing
charcoal. The boxes can be moved about a
room as desired.</p>
<p class='c001'>Everything is spotlessly clean. No muddy shoes
are allowed inside a house, and one can generally
judge of the number of inmates by the row of
wooden clogs placed in a row outside the front-door.</p>
<div id='b072' class='figcenter id005'>
<img src='images/i_b072.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>A TEA-HOUSE VERANDA.</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>It is all very quaint and strange in Japan, and the
longer one lives in the country, the more fascinated
one becomes with the little people, whose manners
and customs differ so greatly from our own.</p>
<p class='c001'>Before the Chino-Japanese War broke out there
was quite a revival of cordiality between the Japanese
<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>and foreigners in the capital. Dinners and garden
fêtes were given and returned, and the wives of the
Japanese Ministers and officials had their ‘At Home’
days during the winter, when nothing could have
exceeded their dainty politeness and the apparent
interest they took in our European houses and dress--especially
dress, I remember. Sometimes, when
conversation became rather strained, the introduction
of a <cite>Lady’s Pictorial</cite> or <cite>Queen</cite> would quite revive
flagging interest, and many a time have I been consulted
in the choice of some important item in their
‘toilette.’ I am glad to say there has been a reaction
the last year or two in favour of the national
dress, the long flowing kimonos and quaint obis
being infinitely more becoming to their slender little
figures than the madly complicated and ever-changing
fashions of the West.</p>
<p class='c001'>But everyone must appear at Court in European
dress, and many have been the dilemmas of the little
ladies when called upon to appear at some function
at the palace.</p>
<p class='c001'>It has been said that foreign clothes make a
difference in a man’s behaviour to his wife:
‘European dress, European manners.’ How far
this is correct I cannot say, but there may be some
truth in it. As I mentioned before, we were congratulating
ourselves on the progress we were making
in our friendly relations with the little ladies. But
when the war broke out, the Japanese Ministers
left in the Emperor’s train for the headquarters
<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>of the army at Shimonoseki, the officers joined their
regiments and ships, leaving their wives behind,
and for the next eighteen months no Japanese lady
crossed our thresholds, nor was to be seen at home
or abroad.</p>
<p class='c001'>Now, this was most disappointing. In vain we
called at their houses. ‘“Arimazen” (‘Not at
home’), said a smiling, and I fear untruthful, nasan.</p>
<p class='c001'>The nearest approach we had to success was one
afternoon, calling on the wife of one of the Ministers
of State. In answer to our inquiries if the Countess
was at home, the doors were drawn back--they don’t
open in Japan--and we were admitted, feeling very
triumphant. We removed our shoes, and were
ushered down long corridors to a room evidently
kept to receive foreigners, having as its only furniture
one small table and four chairs. After waiting
about ten minutes we heard a shuffling of feet and
much suppressed laughter; one of the panels of the
room was drawn aside, and to our great surprise our
own Japanese coachman appeared, followed by two
nasans, who seemed immensely amused about something.
After some difficulty--for our coachman’s
vocabulary in English was extremely limited--we
were given to understand that the ‘oksama’ (honourable
lady of the house) was engaged in having her
bath, and unable to receive us. We beat a hasty
and discomfited retreat, and after that resisted our
desire to renew the acquaintance of the mysterious
little people, who for some reason best known to
<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>themselves had so completely given us the cold-shoulder.</p>
<p class='c001'>Some months later, the war being ended and the
husbands having returned, their wives reappeared in
public as friendly and as smiling as before. We
asked them the reason of their apparent desertion,
but all we could gather was that their husbands had
forbidden them to enter society during their absence;
I fancy, however, their own inclination had a good
deal to do with their retirement from European
society.</p>
<p class='c001'>A Japanese lady is noted for her courage, her
strength of mind and self-possession. It is wonderful
to think what physical trials and dangers
these fragile, delicate little creatures will undergo in
an emergency. The Prime Minister’s life was once
saved by the courage and presence of mind of his
wife.</p>
<p class='c001'>Many years ago, when quite a young man, during
a rebellion, Count Ito was hiding from his enemies,
who, having tracked him to his house, sent a band
of ‘soshis’ to assassinate him. On hearing his
enemies approaching, and trapped like a rat in its
hole, the Count drew his sword and prepared to die;
but the Countess whispered, ‘Do not die; there is
hope still’; and removing the hibatchi, or fire-box,
and lifting up the mats and the planks beneath, she
induced her husband to conceal himself in the hollow
space which exists under the floor of all Japanese
houses. The murderers broke into the room just as
<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>the fire-box had been replaced, and demanded of the
Countess their victim. In vain they threatened and
cruelly ill-treated her, dragging her about the room
by her long black hair. But it was of no avail; they
could not shake her resolute fidelity. Thanks to her
courage Count Ito escaped, and has lived to give to
his country a new Constitution, and become one
of the greatest statesmen of modern Japan.<a id='rB' /><a href='#fB' class='c017'><sup>[B]</sup></a> I
often wondered when I saw the Countess, now a
delicate, gray-haired little lady, at the courage
and presence of mind that she displayed at that
critical moment of her life.</p>
<hr class='c018' />
<div class='footnote' id='fB'>
<p class='c001'><a href='#rB'>B</a>. Sir Edwin Arnold.</p>
</div>
<hr class='c018' />
<p class='c001'>Another instance of the high spirit of Japanese
women and their pride is shown in the following
anecdote, described by a German writer, entitled
‘A Japanese Lucretia’:</p>
<p class='c001'>In 1646 a nobleman named Jacatai was ordered to
present himself before the Mikado, and was obliged to
leave his wife behind. During his absence a former
rejected suitor of the lady’s, taking advantage of his
successful rival’s absence, came, with his retinue, and
by force carried off the unfortunate bride to his castle.
She, however, eventually managed to escape, and
instantly determined to be revenged. Holding out
distant hopes of pardon to the offender, she induced
him to remain in the neighbourhood of Saccai until
her husband’s return, when she gave an entertainment
to all her relations and friends to welcome him
back. In the middle of the banquet, which was held
<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>on the housetop, Lucretia suddenly rose up and
stated what had occurred, saying: ‘I pray you to
take my life now that I have been dishonoured, for I
do not care to live.’ All present protested against the
idea of punishing her for another’s crime, and her
husband assured her he loved her none the less for
what had happened. But her high sense of honour
was not satisfied. ‘Will no one punish me?’ she
said. ‘Then must I do it myself; but I pray you to
avenge me.’ With these words she flung herself
head foremost from the housetop and broke her
neck. The culprit was instantly pursued, but
escaped, only, however, to commit ‘hara-kiri’--the
honourable despatch--by the dead body of the unfortunate
lady whom he had wronged, but did not
desire to survive.</p>
<p class='c001'>From her youth a Japanese lady is taught to control
her feelings, and the strange immobility that is
so noticeable in the Empress is considered, from a
Japanese point of view, the very highest mark of
good breeding. During the war, when one of the
Japanese Princes was away fighting in China, and
exposed to every possible peril in that deadly
country, his wife was asked if she was not terribly
anxious as to her husband’s safety. ‘Oh no,’ she
replied; ‘I am proud that my husband should be
fighting for his country. If he is killed in the
service of His Majesty, I should feel he was honoured
above others who have not had the opportunity of
showing their loyalty.’</p>
<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>The Prince, however, returned in safety, and he
and his wife are living happily together; and one
trusts the brave officer may have other ways of showing
his valour than by his death.</p>
<p class='c001'>Much has been said about mixed marriages in
Japan. On rare occasions they are a success, but
this is not generally the case, especially if the wife
be the foreigner.</p>
<p class='c001'>I was much interested in a European lady I knew
who had married a Japanese officer. They were a
very united couple, and, had it not been for the husband’s
mother, all might have been well. But in
Japan a wife is still entirely in subjection to her
mother-in-law, who makes the most of this authority,
in some cases reducing her son’s wife into a sort of
upper servant. In the present instance, as long as
her husband remained at home his wife was able to
do pretty much as she pleased. When, however,
the war broke out and he joined his regiment in
China, the mother-in-law entirely regained the upper
hand. The unfortunate daughter had to abandon
her European customs, adopt Japanese dress for herself
and her child, sit on the floor, and live principally
on Japanese food. Nor was this all. During her
husband’s absence the elder lady absolutely forbade
her victim to accept any invitations or to receive any
visitors except her Japanese relations and a few of
their friends.</p>
<p class='c001'>I managed, however, to gain admittance one day,
and found my friend very miserable, shivering over a
<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>wretched charcoal ‘hibatchi,’ and without a single
book or paper to distract her thoughts from her
anxiety as to her husband’s safety. So great was the
old lady’s power and influence that the Western
woman did not dare to disobey, but had to submit
in silence until her husband’s return home, when, I
am glad to say, life once more became bearable to
her.</p>
<p class='c001'>The case is somewhat different when it is the wife
who is Japanese. To begin with, no Japanese lady
of gentle birth would ever think of marrying a
foreigner. She would consider it a <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><em>mésalliance</em></span> of
the very worst description. Therefore the Japanese
wives whom one meets in society are of very humble
origin, and generally know no language but their
own. They are charming little creatures when
young, pretty and gentle; but they have nothing in
common with their husbands, and are looked upon
more in the light of playthings than anything else.
They have often, though, great influence with their
husbands in their household, and succeed in bringing
up their children as much like Japanese and as
little like foreigners as possible. I fancy it is chiefly
owing to the Japanese parent’s jealousy and the
negligence of the foreigner that this is the case.</p>
<p class='c001'>The social position of Japanese women has very
much changed for the better during the last few
years, chiefly owing to foreign influence and the
spread of Christianity in the country.</p>
<p class='c001'>The Empress, too, has done much by promoting
<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>charitable work of all kinds in the country, and
through her influence the horrible custom of blackening
the teeth and shaving the eyebrows of married
women has been abolished. Her personal interest
in the Red-Cross Society was especially noticeable
during the last war, when she and the wives of
many of the nobles visited, and some even nursed,
the sick in hospital, and employed their days making
lint and bandages for the use of the wounded.</p>
<p class='c001'>A Japanese courtship and wedding are both very
curious ceremonies, and still somewhat savour of
barbarism.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘When a young man has fixed his affections upon
a maiden of suitable standing, he declares his love
by fastening a branch of a certain shrub to the house
of the damsel’s parents. If the branch be neglected,
the suit is rejected; if it be accepted, so is the suitor’
(Siebold).</p>
<p class='c001'>At the time of the marriage the bridegroom sends
presents to his bride as costly as his means will allow,
which she immediately offers to her parents, in
acknowledgment of their kindness in infancy and of
the pains bestowed upon her education. The wedding
takes place in the evening. The bride is dressed
in a long white silk kimono and white veil, and she
and her future husband sit facing each other on the
floor. Two tables are placed close by. On the one
is a kettle with two spouts, a bottle of saké, and cups;
on the other table a miniature fir-tree, signifying
strength of the bridegroom; a plum-tree, signifying
<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>the beauty of the bride; and lastly a stork, standing
on a tortoise, representing long life and happiness,
desired by them both.</p>
<p class='c001'>At the marriage feast each guest in turn drinks
three cups of the saké, and the two-spouted kettle,
also containing saké, is put to the mouths of the
bride and bridegroom alternately by two attendants,
signifying that they are to share together joys and
sorrows. The bride keeps her veil all her life, and
at her death it is buried with her as her shroud.
The chief duty of a Japanese woman is obedience--whilst
unmarried, to her parents; when married,
to her husband and his parents; when widowed,
to her son.</p>
<p class='c001'>In the ‘Greater Learning of Women’ we read:
‘A woman should look upon her husband as if he
were heaven itself, and thus escape celestial punishment....
The five worst maladies that afflict the
female mind are indocility, discontent, slander,
jealousy, and silliness. Without any doubt these
five maladies afflict seven or eight out of every ten
women, and from them arises the inferiority of
women to men. A woman should cure them by
self-inspection and self-reproach. The worst of them
all and the parent of the other four is silliness.’</p>
<p class='c001'>The above extract shows us very clearly the position
which women have until quite recently taken in
Japan. As a German writer says, ‘Her condition is
the intermediate link between the European and the
Asiatic.’ On the one hand, Japanese women are subjected
<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>to no seclusion, and are as carefully educated
as the men, and take their own place in society;
but, on the other hand, they have absolutely no independence,
and are in complete subjection to their
husbands, sons, and other relations. They are without
legal rights, and under no circumstances can a
wife obtain a divorce or separation from her husband,
however great his offence. Notwithstanding this, in
no country does one find a higher standard of
morality than amongst the married women of Japan.
Faithlessness is practically unknown, although the
poor little wives must often have much to put up
with from their autocratic lords and masters. They
bear all, however, silently and uncomplainingly, their
characteristic pride and reserve forbidding them show
to the outer world what they suffer. I read the other
day that a Japanese poet has called a Japanese wife
‘social glue,’ meaning, I suppose, that she had to
cement the happiness of everyone in the house
together.</p>
<p class='c001'>We Europeans might well in many respects imitate,
and have still much to learn from, our little
cousins in the Far East.</p>
<div class='chapter'>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>
<h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER VII <br /> <span class='fss'>JAPANESE CHILDREN</span></h2>
</div>
<p class='c015'>Boys and girls--Games--The Feast of Dolls--School life--The
‘Hina Matsuri’--The Feast of the Carp--The ‘Bon
Matsuri,’ the festival for dead children.</p>
<div class='c009'>
<img class='drop-capi' src='images/i_b083.jpg' width='180' height='184' alt='' />
</div><p class='drop-capi1_0'>
There is nothing more delightful
in Japan than the
children. Japan has been
called ‘the Paradise for
Babies,’ and the Japanese
‘a nation at play.’ Certainly
these titles seemed to me
appropriate as I took my
first drive through the narrow Japanese streets, and
saw at every turn the crowds of happy-faced little
beings, either flying huge kites--whose long strings
got sadly in the way of our rickshaws, though no
one seemed to care--or spinning tops on the pavement,
a fatal practice to short-sighted pedestrians.</p>
<p class='c001'>How picturesque they looked toddling about in
their bright-coloured kimonos and high wooden
clogs, with a baby almost as big as themselves
firmly secured on their backs, the rider and ridden
<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>sometimes so near of an age that one almost fancied
they must be taking turns and carrying one another!</p>
<div id='b084' class='figcenter id007'>
<img src='images/i_b084.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>‘HOW PICTURESQUE THEY LOOKED!’</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>The babies, too, appeared to enjoy the fun as
much as anyone, which was fortunate, as, willing
or unwilling, they had to join in all the games of
their elder brothers and sisters, and one wondered
<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>how on earth it was their little heads didn’t roll off
as they rocked backwards and forwards, and up and
down, in time to the rapid movements of the game
their elders were playing.</p>
<p class='c001'>Little girls, too small to carry real babies, had
big dolls strapped on their backs, and it was really
difficult to distinguish the live article from the
imitation. No wonder their backs become bent
nearly double by the time they are old women--they
age very quickly do the women in the Far
East--but they are wonderfully fascinating when
young, with their curious, old-fashioned manners,
their marvellous self-possession, and the politeness
and dignity with which they comport themselves on
every occasion. They have but one drawback, and
that I must confess is a very serious one--namely,
the total absence of pocket-handkerchiefs; and somehow
they always seem to have colds! I think I need
say no more.</p>
<p class='c001'>There are many strange and original customs
relating to the management and bringing up of
children in Japan. Boys are the most thought of,
as is universally the case all over the East, but not
to the same extent as in other Eastern countries.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘On the birth of a son there is great rejoicing in
a family. Two fans are presented to the infant by
his godparent, representing courage. When he is
thirty days old he is taken to a temple to receive
his name. Three names are written on separate
bits of paper and given to a priest, who, asking
<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>the gods to direct the choice, throws the slips into
the air, and the first falling to earth is supposed to
contain the name the gods approve of, and is consequently
given to the child.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘Other names are added during the boy’s life--on
his fifteenth birthday, on his marriage, and one is
given to him after death by his relations.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘A boy’s head is clean-shaven until he is five years
old, with the exception of four little tufts of hair--one
in front, one behind, and one at each side of his
head. On his fifth birthday the function of the
“hakama” takes place--the child, in other words,
goes into trousers. A godparent is appointed for
this important event, who presents his godson with
three gifts--a false sword, a wooden spear, and a
ceremonial dress embroidered with storks, tortoises,
branches of fir, bamboo-twigs, and cherry-blossom--all
emblems of good luck and long life. From that
date his hair is allowed to grow, though it is
generally very closely cropped in French fashion.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘On his fifteenth birthday the last and most
important function is celebrated--"the Ceremony of
the Cap"--when a new godparent is chosen, the
boy receives his second name, and he attains his
majority.’<a id='rC' /><a href='#fC' class='c017'><sup>[C]</sup></a></p>
<hr class='c018' />
<div class='footnote' id='fC'>
<p class='c001'><a href='#rC'>C</a>. Siebold.</p>
</div>
<hr class='c018' />
<div id='b087' class='figcenter id001'>
<img src='images/i_b087.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>JAPANESE CHILDREN.</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>We are also told by Siebold that it was the custom
of the ancients, on the birth of a female child, to let it
lie on the floor for the space of three days, and in
this way to show the likening of the man to heaven
<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>and the woman to earth. This custom has fortunately
been abolished, with many other cruel and
barbarous practices, and female children are no longer
neglected.</p>
<p class='c001'>When a daughter is born in a house, a godparent
is chosen, who presents the baby with a shell of
paint, implying beauty. A pair of ‘hina,’ or images,
are also purchased for the little girl, which she plays
with until she is grown up. When she is married
her hina are taken with her to her husband’s
house, and she gives them to her children, adding
to the stock as her family increases.</p>
<p class='c001'>Dolls occupy a very important part in the life of a
little girl. They are not merely playthings to be
thrown away and discarded at will; on the contrary,
they are considered ‘heirlooms’ in a family, and
carefully guarded and treasured for generations. I
really think an ‘ichi ban,’ or best doll, receives much
more care and attention than the real baby, who
from its earliest infancy, as I have before remarked,
is made to share in all the work and play of its
elders, with no regard to its own feelings or wishes.</p>
<p class='c001'>The ‘Hina Matsuri,’ or the Feast of Dolls, takes
place annually on March 3, and lasts about a week.
I remember paying a very interesting visit to the
wife of the late Japanese Minister of Marines in
Tokio, when I was invited to see her little girl’s show
of dolls.</p>
<p class='c001'>O Haru San--the Honourable Miss Spring--who
was an only child, and adored by her parents, greeted
<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>me with charming politeness and dignity, placing
her tiny white hands on her knees and bowing her
head down to the ground. She was a delightful
little creature of eight years of age, very small and
slender, with manners quite equal to the Countess,
her mother, who is one of the most charming women
I have met in the East. O Haru San was dressed
in a fascinating gray silk crape kimono, with
a fold of scarlet crape round the neck and a gold
brocaded obi. Her face and throat were much
whitened, the paint terminating in three points at
the back of the neck; her lips were reddened and
slightly touched with gold. Her hair was drawn
back, raised in front and gathered into a double
loop, into which a band of scarlet crape was twisted.
On her feet she wore ‘tabi,’ little white linen socks
hooked up at the side, with a separate place for the
great toe, and I noticed her little lacquered ‘geta’
(clogs) were placed neatly together just outside the
door. The whole effect reminded me of an exquisite
wax model, and it was impossible to imagine that
tiny delicate being capable of any mental or physical
exertion.</p>
<p class='c001'>To my surprise, however, she tripped gaily in
front of me up the wooden staircase and down a
long corridor to a large room where the Hina
Matsuri was being held. She appeared perfectly
at her ease, and chatted away, asking me many
intelligent questions, through the interpreter, about
little English girls, their games, dolls, etc.</p>
<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>On the landing a dolls’ garden was arranged, with
small houses, bridges, miniature fir-trees--the latter
a great speciality in Japan--a river with real
water, even a minute pond with three gold-fish--the
whole arrangement very artistically planned
and set out. As O Haru San drew back the
lacquered panels of her room, she looked at me
anxiously to see how I should be impressed. I
certainly had no cause to feign surprise. The
sight was a most unusual one. The room was
literally packed with dolls of every sort and description;
almost every nationality was represented, some
nearly life-size, others the length of one’s little
finger; all were arranged in groups, standing, sitting,
propped up against cushions, in every conceivable
attitude.</p>
<p class='c001'>On a kind of daïs were two dolls on thrones,
representing the Emperor and Empress of Japan.
As far as I could see every doll was in perfect order,
every detail of their costumes correct--no broken
noses, arms, or legs--no pins! Even in the hospital,
where several pale-faced dolls were lying in bed, I
noticed the splints and bandages were not to hide,
but to represent, injuries.</p>
<p class='c001'>My small hostess darted hither and thither, pointing
out special favourites, rearranging some of the groups
with her delicate little white hands with great care
and precision. I thought of my favourite rag-doll
Sally, with no features and destitute of legs, that I
used to hug in my arms as a child when I went to
<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>sleep; and I wondered what O Haru San’s feelings
would have been if I had suggested adding that
mutilated remnant to her collection. What havoc a
few English children would have made in that room!
But a Japanese child is perfectly content to look and
admire; and I imagine such a thing as breaking a doll
would be considered almost a crime. Many of these
toys, I was told, were over two hundred years old;
some represented warriors and ‘samuri’ of the seventeenth
century--uniforms, weapons, complete. I
must not forget the dinner-service which was spread
on one of the tables, and from which every day during
the Matsuri food was served to the more important
of the dolls by their young mistress.</p>
<p class='c001'>How comic it all seemed, and yet how real and
serious it was to little Miss Spring! She told me
that at the end of the week every doll was carefully
wrapped in paper and locked away until the following
year, although one or two special favourites were
occasionally brought out for change of air.</p>
<p class='c001'>Before leaving O Haru San presented me with
about a thimbleful of tea in a tiny transparent
cup of white and gold, saying in her pretty little
way: ‘This tea is worthless indeed, and green, but
deign to moisten your honourable lips with it.’ I
did as she requested, assuring her that never before
had I tasted its equal in delicious fragrance.</p>
<p class='c001'>One <em>must</em> be polite to avoid hopelessly disgracing
one’s self in Japanese society.</p>
<p class='c001'>I felt strongly inclined to kiss the tiny piquant
<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>face, white paint and all, as we said good-bye; but
that would have been far too great a breach of
etiquette to be tolerated by the little lady, who,
bowing low as I left the house, begged ‘to be very
kindly remembered to my most honourable father,
of whom she had heard so much.’</p>
<p class='c001'>The following extract, taken from a German book
written in 1841, shows us how much importance has
always been attached to the rules of politeness and
etiquette in Japan. It says, speaking of education:
‘Children of the higher orders are carefully instructed
in morals and manners, including the whole science
of good-breeding, the minutest laws of etiquette, and
the forms of behaviour as graduated towards every
individual of the whole human race, by relation,
rank, and station.’</p>
<p class='c001'>Compulsory education exists all over the country,
even in remote country villages in the interior. A
drum beats at seven o’clock in the morning to
summon the children to school, and if one is energetic
enough to be about at that early hour, one
sees troops of quaint little figures wending their way
to the school-house with satchels on their backs,
very possibly flying kites or spinning tops, according
to the time of year, as they go along.</p>
<p class='c001'>On a wet morning, instead of the merry little faces,
nothing is visible but a long procession of large
yellow parchment umbrellas, and bare brown legs
and feet. With one hand the kimono is carefully
held up high out of harm’s way, with no respect to
<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>appearances; in the other hand the children carry
their ‘geta’ (clogs), which are only used in fine
weather.</p>
<p class='c001'>As Miss Bird says, describing a Japanese school:</p>
<p class='c001'>‘The model behaviour of the children during school-hours
is quite remarkable; they are so imbued with
the spirit of obedience that their teachers have no
difficulty in securing quiet and attention. In fact,
they are almost too good; and their little old-fashioned
faces look painfully serious sometimes as
they pore over their books or repeat verses and
lessons in their monotonous voices.’</p>
<p class='c001'>One of their recitations, which I have since seen
translated, ran as follows:</p>
<div class='lg-container-b c007'>
<div class='linegroup'>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>‘Colour and perfume vanish away;</div>
<div class='line'>What can be lasting in this world?</div>
<div class='line'>To-day disappears in the abyss of nothingness.</div>
<div class='line'>It is but the passing image of a dream, and causes only a slight trouble.’</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c019'>In other words, ‘vanity of vanities’--a dismal
ditty for young children, but very characteristic of
the spirit of fatalism in the East.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘The penalties for bad conduct used to be a few
blows with a switch on the leg, or a slight burn with
the “moxa” on the forefinger, but now the usual
punishment is detention after school-hours.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘The cost of education is not expensive--from a
halfpenny to three halfpence a month, according to
the means of the parent.’</p>
<p class='c001'>Besides the national schools, there are many
<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>excellent colleges and schools for the children of the
nobles and upper classes in Japan. In Tokio alone
there are military, naval, and engineering colleges,
besides a large University. Japanese students, however,
frequently finish their education at foreign
Universities, where they often take high degrees.</p>
<p class='c001'>A girl generally leaves school when she is fifteen,
but she continues her studies until she marries. An
important part in her education is the arrangement
of flowers, an art cultivated into a veritable science
in Japan. I was anxious to take a few lessons, but
was told that no satisfactory result could be obtained
under three years’ constant study, so decided to
leave that accomplishment to those who had more
time and patience at their disposal.</p>
<p class='c001'>I must not forget to mention some of the games
and fêtes which take such an important place in the
lives of Japanese children. I have described the
Hina Matsuri, the festival for girls, which is celebrated
on the 3rd of March. The feast for boys is
held on the 5th of May at the festival of Hachman,
the god of war. The towns and villages on that
date present a most curious spectacle. Where there
are any boys in the family, large, hollow, canvas kites
in the form of a carp are hung at the end of long
poles from every home; the number and size of the
fish corresponding to the number and age of the
boys in the family.</p>
<p class='c001'>These fish used to be made large enough to carry
a man up in the air, and have been known to be
<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>employed in time of war to spy into the interior of
an enemy’s castle. On one occasion a robber was
caught by means of their help, and killed, but they
are no longer used for these practices.</p>
<p class='c001'>The carp is chosen as an emblem at the feast
of boys on account of its strength and power to
swim up against stream. In like manner a boy
is supposed to push his way along the stream of
life and combat difficulties.</p>
<p class='c001'>There is a very picturesque, and at the same time
curiously pathetic, festival which takes place annually
at the end of August at Nagasaki--the ‘Bon Matsuri,’
or festival to dead children. Every day during the
week children in gorgeous costumes parade the streets
of the town, carrying fans, banners and lanterns,
collecting subscriptions. On the last day of the
festival, at sunset, whole fleets of little straw sailing-boats,
with food and a light on board each, are
launched on the beach for the souls of the little
children who have died.</p>
<p class='c001'>How well I remember the scene! The sun was
sinking like a ball of fire into the purple sea, tinging
the mountains, the islands, and the yellow sand a
delicate rose colour.</p>
<p class='c001'>As far as the eye could reach numberless little
figures were hurrying to and fro on the beach, fitting
out their tiny crafts ready to launch into the water.
As the sun sank behind the horizon the murmur of
many voices broke the stillness, gradually resolving
into a weird incantation, which echoed from hill to
<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>hill. This was the signal for the lighting and launching
of the boats; a few minutes later, when night
had fallen, the sea seemed ablaze with countless
flickering lights; and on the shore, thousands of
little figures, fast disappearing into the darkness,
could be seen kneeling on the sand offering up their
prayers and petitions for the welfare of the little ones
they had lost, in whose memory the festival had
been celebrated.</p>
<p class='c001'>Since the opening up of the country to foreigners
and the introduction of Western civilization, many
of the quaint manners and customs in Japan are fast
disappearing, and the Japanese children, especially
in the Treaty-port towns, cannot be said to have
benefited by the change.</p>
<p class='c001'>Nothing can be more delightful than a Japanese
child with Japanese manners; nothing, I grieve to
say, more objectionable than one with European
manners. Why is it, I wonder, that bad habits are
so much more easily learnt than good ones?</p>
<p class='c001'>In spite of all this, however, one must admit that
much still remains, especially amongst the girls, of
that grace, that gentle politeness and courtesy, which
has ever given such a charm and attracted one so
much to the children of Japonica.</p>
<div class='chapter'>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>
<h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER VIII <br /> <span class='fss'>SERVANTS IN JAPAN</span></h2>
</div>
<p class='c015'>Their politeness--Frequency of their baths--Always ready for
a nap--Mrs. Peter Potts.</p>
<div class='c009'>
<img class='drop-capi' src='images/i_b098.jpg' width='200' height='225' alt='' />
</div><p class='drop-capi1_0'>
The Japanese make good servants--willing
and obliging
and quick to learn English
ways. They cost very little
to feed, living chiefly on rice
and vegetables, although they
are fond of European food
when they can get it. Their
honesty depends chiefly on
their masters and mistresses.
Where they attach themselves they are faithful and
trustworthy. On the other hand, an unpopular
English house is often servantless, and many are
the stories I have been told, especially in the English
settlements in Yokohama and Kobé, of the extravagance
and theft of the Japanese ‘boy’--a word
always employed in the Far East for all male
servants.</p>
<p class='c001'>The head boy of our establishment in Tokio, where
<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>we had a house for some time, was a Japanese who
in more prosperous days had been a <em>samuri</em>, or
two-sworded man. He had a fair knowledge of
English, was responsible for the payment of the
weekly bills, looked after the other servants, and
always accompanied us when travelling in the
interior. Yami was a little shrivelled-up-looking
man who might have been any age between thirty-five
and sixty. He possessed a father and mother
<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>as well as a wife and large family, all of whom lived
together in two small rooms in the Japanese quarter
of our house. Except on the occasion of a shock of
earthquake, when the garden seemed full of small
quaintly-robed figures running in every direction, I
saw little or nothing of some of the members of our
household; and on those unpleasant occasions I was
much too agitated to think of anything but my own
safety.</p>
<div id='b099' class='figcenter id013'>
<img src='images/i_b099.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>JAPANESE SERVANTS.</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>The only other time that our domestic staff
appeared in force was on Christmas Day, when my
father summoned everyone to his study, beginning
with Yami and his family down to the rickshaw
and water coolies, their wives and children. There
seemed an endless number of little bowing figures as
they appeared in a long line, all dressed in their best,
and apparently much impressed with the importance
of the occasion.</p>
<p class='c001'>Politeness in Japan is proverbial, and extends to
the lowest classes of the community. However
much Japanese servants are scolded and abused,
they will listen with apparent submission and repentance,
seemingly never taking offence, although they
really hide a good deal of feeling under their
humble demeanour. I have known a servant, after
being severely reprimanded by his master, attempt
to commit suicide. On the other hand, however,
when once roused to hatred, a Japanese is very vindictive
and will stop short of nothing for revenge.
They have, as a nation, wonderful control over their
<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>feelings, and on no account would they like to appear
anything but happy and contented in public.</p>
<p class='c001'>I remember one day asking Yami about the health
of his old father, who had not been well. With the
broadest of grins and every sign of pleasure, Yami
told me that only that morning his honourable parent
had ‘condescended to die’ and was about to be
buried that afternoon. He then apologized profusely
for mentioning such a trivial matter. I believe,
as a matter of fact, the death of the old man was
a great grief to his son, as there is much filial
affection existing between parents and children in
Japan.</p>
<p class='c001'>Yami was very devoted to me, and when travelling
always considered his duties embraced those of maid.
On arriving at our destination, his first thought was
to unpack my clothes and put out on my bed whatever
he considered suitable for me to wear--a somewhat
strange selection occasionally. Wherever we
were staying, he always brought me my morning
cup of tea, saying as he entered the room: ‘Good-morning,
everybody.’ Poor Yami died of pneumonia
just before we left Japan. I went to see him a few
hours before his death. On the floor by his side
were two little wooden frames with photographs of
my father and myself. He was too weak to speak,
but pointed to the photos, and then put his hand to
his heart to show us his affection, poor fellow!</p>
<p class='c001'>Japanese servants, if left to themselves, are lazy
little beings. Their chief joy in life seems to be
<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>their bath. How often have I had to wait to go for
my drive until the betto returned from the bathhouse!
Their horror of a drop of rain seems strange,
considering this; but not for one minute will a coolie
continue work in the garden if there is the slightest
indication of wet weather.</p>
<div id='b102' class='figcenter id007'>
<img src='images/i_b102.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>THAT DELIGHTFUL HOTEL IN THE HILLS.</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>They are ready to sleep on all possible occasions.
I remember we were staying in a little Japanese
house near Lake Chiunsenji, and having started out
for the day, we left orders that certain things were
to be done in the way of cleaning, during our
absence. We had not left a quarter of an hour,
<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>when we discovered our lunch-basket had been forgotten,
and my father hastened back to fetch it. On
entering the little hall, he heard a noise proceeding
from a large cupboard in which was a shelf kept for
boots and fishing-tackle. Looking in, he discovered
our four servants--cook, maid, house-boy and water-coolie--all
stretched out on the shelf among the
contents of the cupboard, evidently just preparing for
a pleasant siesta. They scurried away like rabbits
on seeing my father, and seemed overwhelmed with
shame when we spoke to them seriously the next
morning on the sin of laziness.</p>
<p class='c001'>Some of the nasans at the up-country hotels
are charming little creatures. How well I can still
see the row of merry, laughing faces that always
greeted us when we arrived at the delightful
hotel up at Myanoshita, where we went sometimes
for a change of air and rest after the gaieties of
Tokio. Before we knew it, our muddy boots would
be taken off, warm slippers given us, hot baths
prepared; to say nothing of an excellent meal always
ready at whatever hour we arrived--and all without
any fuss or noise but the patter of small feet up
and down the long corridors, as the little maidens
hastened to do our bidding.</p>
<p class='c001'>Once or twice at Christmas time, when games were
the order of the evening, we would request the
company of half a dozen of our little handmaidens
to join in a game of ‘hunt the slipper,’ How they
laughed and entered into the fun, and yet never
<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>forgot their polite manners, nor failed to treat us
with the greatest deference and respect!</p>
<p class='c001'>Soon after our arrival in Tokio we had a difficulty
in getting servants, and it was suggested that we
should obtain the services of Mrs. Peter Potts, whose
duties as ‘charwoman’ at the English Legation only
occupied her one day a week. When I first made
the old lady’s acquaintance she was about sixty-five
years old, still hale and hearty, in spite of a somewhat
strong predilection, I grieve to say, for ‘old
Tom.’ Her face always reminded me of a dried
russet apple, furrowed and lined by years of toil and
constant exposure. Her complexion was fresh and
ruddy, and shone from a lavish application of soap-suds
and much polishing. Her scanty gray locks were
generally hidden in the house by a red cotton handkerchief,
tied under the chin, out of doors by an
appalling erection which was once a bonnet, but
which the ravages of time and weather had reduced
to a confused jumble of faded blue velvet, jellow
flowers, and souvenirs from a deceased rooster’s tail.</p>
<p class='c001'>Her clothes, though shabby through much wear
and faded from many introductions to the wash-tub,
were always scrupulously clean and neat. A rusty
black silk dress and mantle, relics of former mistresses,
only appeared at weddings and funerals;
and the wonderful violet silk garment kept expressly
for Royal functions--for the old lady was nothing
if not loyal--was the above-mentioned garment
turned inside out!</p>
<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>From many years’ employment at the Legation,
Mrs. Peter Potts had come to consider herself
one of the ‘staff,’ and expected to be treated as such.
Her respect for the authorities, from the English
Minister downwards, was immense, and she had a
scale of reverence with which she greeted them--the
Court curtsey to His Excellency was a sight to be
remembered and wondered at. It could hardly be
properly accomplished in an ordinary-sized room,
although I have seen the old woman, interrupted in
the midst of cleaning a grate, her face and hands
black with soot, rise to her feet, catch a piece of
rough holland apron in either hand, and sweep
backwards across the room in a style a Duchess of
the eighteenth century could not have surpassed.</p>
<p class='c001'>History, however, relates that a former Minister
many years previously had come under ban of
Mrs. Peter Potts’ displeasure, and, in a moment of
indignation too strong to be suppressed, she grasped
His ‘Excurrency’--as she called His Excellency--by
the beard and shook it violently, much to
the great man’s surprise and alarm. Since then,
either the Corps Diplomatique became more cautious
as to their dealings with their ‘colleague,’ or our
friend learnt prudence with age. In any case, of
late years the Legation has had no firmer ally than
Mrs. Potts. ‘I allus makes my h’inclinations to
them of the Corps ’cause I knows my dooty, Miss,’
she said to me one day.</p>
<p class='c001'>The late lamented Mr. Peter Potts had departed
<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>this life some years before our arrival in Japan. He
was a pensioner, having been sent out as gate-keeper
to the Legation, then in Yokohama, early in the
sixties. Mrs. Potts surrounded the memory of her
‘poor Peter’ with such a halo of romance, and
attributed his death to such a marvellous number
of mortal diseases, that the ex-sergeant of Marines
became a glorified figure in her imagination. As
a matter of fact, I believe he was a weak sort of
creature, very hen-pecked, who died from too great
an affection to the gin bottle.</p>
<p class='c001'>Mrs. Potts has no family living, and seems to
rejoice in the fact.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘I did once ’ave a little bit of a thing not worth
mentioning, but, thank the Lord, it was took arter
three days. My mother, she ’ad eleven of us, pore
soul! all told, and I was the only one as lived to grow
up. I was a twin, too, and born with three teeth,
and they do say as ’ow they allus are vixens--I
know I was when a gal.’</p>
<p class='c001'>She treated our little Japanese maid-servants with
condescension and secret contempt. How could
anyone under sixty know how to do things in the
proper way?</p>
<p class='c001'>‘It’s comfort, not style, as you wants, my good
young lidy,’ she would say as she bustled about.
‘Them slips of Jap things can’t know your ways as
I does.’</p>
<p class='c001'>Once a week she used to have her mid-day meal
with us, and a glass of stout. Then how her tongue
<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>would wag! I asked her one day how she had
enjoyed her dinner.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘Why, miss, I fancied as ’ow I was at the Gilt
’All (Guild Hall). Them young gals was that
pressing I thought as ’ow I should never ’ave
done.’</p>
<p class='c001'>The memories of her early courtship and marriage
always brought a blush to her withered cheek, as
she would tell us how she met her ‘pore Peter,’ for
the first time, on the Thames Embankment--‘Jist
by one of them little trees in cages, you know, my
good young lidy.’ (This, you will remember,
was forty years ago; the trees have grown since
then.) ‘He did look a proper dook, did Peter, in ’is
red uniform--the dead split of the Colonel ’e were.’</p>
<p class='c001'>They were married at the Tower, and soon afterwards
came out to Japan, Mrs. Potts as temporary
maid to the wife of the English Minister.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘Law, miss,’ she said to me one day, ‘His Excurrency
used to get real Victoria Cross sometimes,
and stamp, ’e did, fit to scare you into next week,
but ’e was a kind master, ’e was. He’d say, “Come
along, Mrs. Potts, and choose a drink for yourself,”
and when I said I kind o’ fancied a glass o’ beer,
he’d go and draw it with ’is own ’ands, ’e would.’</p>
<p class='c001'>The old lady had a great admiration for my father.
I overheard her saying to Yami one day: ‘I think
as ’ow the master represents the one from above.
He’s no respecter of persons, ’e isn’t, but treats
us all alike--so perlite and consid’rate, ’e is. He
<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>says, “Thank you, Mrs. Potts,” as if I was a
Duchess, he do.‘</p>
<p class='c001'>She was a perfect walking <cite>Court Circular</cite>. Every
event connected with Royalties was of the greatest
personal interest to her, and she invariably took a
holiday to celebrate any Royal birthday, and hung a
little Union Jack out of her cottage window. Just
before the Coronation of the King we were all busy
preparing for the festivities, but for some reason best
known to herself Mrs. Potts refused to share in the
general rejoicings, although as a rule she was the
gayest of the gay on these occasions.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘I don’t somehow feel like jubilating, my dears,’
was all she would say.</p>
<p class='c001'>When the news of the King’s illness reached Tokio,
she said to my father, ‘You see, sir, I ’ad a “presentimum”
that there was something wrong, and I
thank the Lord that I wasn’t thinking of merry-making
with His Blessed Majesty ill-a-bed and like
to die.’</p>
<p class='c001'>Whether this was a strange coincidence, or second
sight I know not, but it was a fact.</p>
<div class='chapter'>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>
<h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER IX <br /> <span class='fss'>SOME FESTIVALS AND A FUNERAL</span></h2>
</div>
<p class='c015'>The Imperial Silver Wedding--Parade of the troops--The
wedding feast--The Chinese ball in Tokio--A gay assembly--A
Royal funeral--Strange customs.</p>
<div class='c009'>
<img class='drop-capi' src='images/i_b109.jpg' width='225' height='144' alt='' />
</div><p class='drop-capi0_9'>
It seems curious at first to
think of an Emperor with
six wives having a silver
wedding, but, as I have
previously mentioned, His
Majesty has but one wife
who is recognised officially--the present Empress of
Japan. My father and I were staying at Tokio at
the time of this ceremony, and were fortunate in
receiving invitations, as, out of the three thousand
guests invited to the palace, only about a hundred
were foreigners.</p>
<p class='c001'>The event caused great excitement in the capital,
for the Japanese are most loyal and devoted subjects.
Every street was decorated with flags and garlands
of flowers, whilst on the auspicious day, March the
9th, everyone donned their best attire and there
was a public holiday all over Japan. Thousands of
<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>peasants came from the country on the chance of
getting a glimpse at the ‘Ruler of the Rising Sun,’
who was to review his troops on the parade-ground
just outside the walls of the city. The cherry and
peach trees were also <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><em>en fête</em></span> for the occasion, their
pink and white blossoms adding much to the charm
of the scene, whilst the wind scattered their petals on
the passers-by, covering the ground like newly-fallen
snow. By two o’clock over ten thousand troops had
assembled, as smart and well-turned-out a set of
men as one could wish to see. The cavalry left
something to be desired, as the horses were small
and mostly in poor condition, but they are strong,
willing little beasts, and very serviceable for rough-riding.</p>
<p class='c001'>Three large tents had been erected on the parade-ground,
one for the Royal party, another for the
staff and Ministers of State, and the third for the
Corps Diplomatique and a few favoured foreigners.</p>
<p class='c001'>At mid-day a loud fanfare of trumpets was heard,
the massed bands struck up the Japanese National
Anthem and the Royal procession arrived in sight.
The Emperor and Empress were in a golden coach
drawn by six horses, followed by eight other carriages
containing Royalties and officials. As usual, on their
arrival there was dead silence, and their Majesties’
expressions were perfectly impassive, as if carved in
stone; in fact, during the whole afternoon and the
march-past of the troops, I never saw a smile or the
slightest sign of interest on either of those statuesque
<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span><a id='corr110.1'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='faces'>faces.</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_110.1'><ins class='correction' title='faces'>faces.</ins></a></span> When the review was over, we had barely
time to rush back to the hotel to dress for the
banquet and reception at the Palace. On this important
occasion I wore my first Court train, and very
proud I felt as I drove off with my father in the
carriage.</p>
<p class='c001'>The Palace grounds were brilliantly lighted by
thousands of coloured lanterns and little lamps. As I
stepped out of the brougham into the large entrance-hall,
where already many of the guests had assembled,
and had my train arranged by two of the gold-laced
attendants, I felt as if I were living in some other age,
being no longer only an English country girl, but
some Japanese Princess of old Japan.</p>
<p class='c001'>After passing down endless corridors brilliantly lit
with countless candles, along highly polished and
very slippery floors, we arrived at the banqueting-hall.
I presently found myself sitting with the
Chinese Minister, Mr. Wong, on my right and a
little Japanese Admiral on my left. My father was
some way down on the other side.</p>
<p class='c001'>It was a never-to-be-forgotten sight. Over five
hundred guests were present, seated at long tables,
which were exquisitely decorated with orchids, roses,
ferns, and every kind of fruit in silver dishes. All
the dinner-service was also of solid silver. At one
end of the hall, a little raised and apart, sat the
Emperor and Empress. The latter wore a European
dress of rich white satin embroidered all over with
silver; and masses of priceless diamonds were round
<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>her neck and in her dress. On her head was a
small crown studded with precious stones. On
either side sat the Royal Princes and Princesses;
they all wore the Grand Cross Order of Japan--a
broad orange and white ribbon. Every conceivable
uniform seemed to be represented--Diplomats,
Generals, Admirals, and a few foreigners in Court
dress.</p>
<p class='c001'>The dinner lasted nearly three hours, and, to judge
by the manner His Excellency Mr. Wong appreciated
every dish, it must have been a very good one.
Mr. Wong was a tall, oldish man with a shrewd,
parchment-like face. He spoke English well and
said he was a natural philosopher. He had gorgeous
brocades and thick furs lining his long robes. I asked
him why he did not wear these brocades outside
at night for variety, which idea seemed much to
amuse him. He told me his jade ring was worth
five thousand dollars. It certainly was a lovely
green stone.</p>
<p class='c001'>The little Japanese Admiral, who spoke no
English, tried to entertain me by making all sorts of
figures out of his bread. At each course he asked
for a fresh roll, and, by the end of dinner, we had an
array of minute bread soldiers, ladies and animals on
the table before us, really most cleverly contrived.</p>
<p class='c001'>Before the banquet was half finished I felt I could
eat no more, but my two neighbours seemed so
distressed when I passed a dish, that I felt obliged
to taste everything.</p>
<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>Each guest had before his plate a stork made of solid
silver, beautifully chased, standing on a little silver
box, with two tortoises at the foot, also in silver.
These were presented by their Majesties as souvenirs
of their silver wedding. The stork is the emblem
of happiness in Japan and the tortoise of long life.
Before leaving, we were also presented with silver
medals, coined especially for the occasion with an
inscription, and enclosed in a black and silver
lacquer box.</p>
<p class='c001'>After the banquet we went to the throne-room,
where seats were arranged for two thousand guests,
many being present who had not attended the dinner.
There was a stage, and some very curious acting
was performed--old Japanese plays, with weird
Japanese music, which resembled cats on a roof
more than anything I have ever heard.</p>
<p class='c001'>The solemnity of the large audience, the weird
acting and the appalling music suddenly inspired me
with a wild desire to laugh, and I only saved myself
from disgrace by bending my head low and trying
to think of everything sad I could recollect. It was
no use; I was rapidly becoming hysterical, when a
kind little Japanese lady, thinking I was feeling faint,
offered me her scent-bottle. This restored me to
my senses, and I repressed my feelings until the end
of the entertainment.</p>
<p class='c001'>The Emperor and Empress were present, sitting
in state together on their thrones. During the whole
performance they hardly moved a muscle of their
<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>faces, the sign of high breeding in Japan, but the
poor Empress looked very pale and exhausted before
the end, and neither she nor the Emperor attended
the supper to which we were all bidden before
leaving the palace.</p>
<p class='c001'>Truly it was a strange and unique ceremony.</p>
<hr class='c016' />
<p class='c001'>Another entertainment of interest to which we went
some time later was a ball given at the Chinese Legation
by their Excellencies the Minister and Lady Yü,
who had succeeded my old friend and philosopher,
Mr. Wong, in Tokio. Looking at the large cosmopolitan
company gathered together, all apparently
on the most friendly and cordial terms, it was hard
to believe that there had ever been war between
China and Japan, or that even then there were
strained relations between several of the countries
whose representatives were there on apparently the
most friendly and cordial terms. However, I suppose
even the most zealous statesman must at times put
aside his official capacity and yield to the enjoyment
of the moment, and this they certainly seemed to be
doing on the present occasion.</p>
<p class='c001'>The Chinese Legation is a large European building
of red brick, commanding one of the best
situations in Tokio. But for its yellow flag flying
aloft on fête-days and a few Chinese ‘monban,’ or
guards, at the gates, there is nothing to distinguish
it from any of the other official residences in the
capital. The Legation is furnished in European
<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>style, with curtains and coverings of bright-coloured
brocades, and has a large ball-room, with a parquet
floor and electric light. On this important evening
the walls were decorated with Chinese weapons and
flags, arranged very effectively. The guests, who
numbered between two and three hundred, arrived
shortly after nine o’clock; they included nearly all
the Japanese Ministers of State and high officials,
the various Corps Diplomatiques and their staffs, the
Russian Admiral and a number of Russian officers,
and also the greater part of the foreign community of
Tokio.</p>
<p class='c001'>On arrival, we were met at the entrance by an
imposing group of Chinese officials, who escorted us
two by two across the hall and up a long flight of
stairs to the dressing-room. After delivering over
our cloaks and wraps to the quaintest and most
picturesque-looking little maid-servants, we were
marched arm in arm solemnly in procession downstairs
to the drawing-room, where the Minister and
Lady Yü were waiting to receive us. Lady Yü
wore a European dress of violet satin and lace, and
had a Court train trimmed with ostrich-feathers;
although she is usually seen in her national costume.
She is a nice-looking woman, with a kind, pleasant
face. By birth she is American-Japanese, her father
having married and settled in Shanghai. Her two
daughters, Miss Lizzie and Miss Nelly Yü, were also
in European dresses of white silk. They are bright-looking
girls, very popular in Tokio society. All
<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>three speak English fluently. The Minister, however,
speaks only Chinese, but, I believe, understands
a good deal of the conversation going on around
him. He is a native of the province of Manchu, in
the North of China, and, like most of the inhabitants
of that part of the country, is above the average height
and a powerfully-made man. He adheres entirely to
his Chinese dress, and was attired in a long coat of
yellow brocade, lined with white Mongolian fur.</p>
<p class='c001'>There are two sons, the eldest about twenty-one
years of age, who is already married, and is a proud
father--the other a boy of about seventeen. They
both seemed thoroughly to enjoy the dancing,
although their long satin petticoats and curious high
shoes must have been somewhat inconvenient. They
are being educated by French and English governesses,
and one of them confided to me that his
mother fines him 10 sen (= 2½d.) whenever he speaks
Chinese!</p>
<p class='c001'>A number of Chinese guests were present, their
gorgeous, embroidered garments adding much to the
general effect of the ballroom, as did also the gay
uniforms of the various naval and military officers.
There was a curious mixture of costumes. Chinese in
Chinese dress, Chinese in European dress, Japanese
<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><em>à l’Anglaise</em></span>, Japanese <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><em>à la Japonaise</em></span>, and Europeans
in every imaginable combination of colour and style;
some toilettes as much ‘up-to-date’ as the distance
from the land of fashions permitted, others evidently
desirous of striking out a line of their own. One
<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>American lady had actually draped herself in a
Japanese kimono, but in a way that no Japanese
lady would dream of appearing. I also noticed a
German lady in a dress of pure white.</p>
<p class='c001'>Perhaps, however, they imagined it was a fancy-dress
ball! Contrary to the Chinese dress, which
is a combination of the most vivid colouring, the
Japanese ladies over twenty--in fact, even younger--wear
nothing but the most sober colours--grays,
drabs, fawns; and the elderly ladies are generally
seen in black, the only adornment being their crest
embroidered on the back of their kimonos. The
men and boys wear gray, dark blue, and black
ukatas.</p>
<p class='c001'>The cotillon was led by Miss Yü and a secretary
of the Russian Legation, and included some pretty
and original figures. The Russian <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><em>contredanses</em></span>
seemed to be especially appreciated, and the fun had
waxed fast and furious towards the small hours of
the morning when we took our departure. In fact,
the ball was a great success in every way, and the
general originality of the entertainment added much
to its charm.</p>
<p class='c001'>Some of the guests were a little disappointed in
not having a real Chinese supper; but when I
mention a few of the palatable dishes that were
served to us at a Chinese dinner at which we
were once present, I think you will agree with me
that we had a lucky escape.</p>
<p class='c001'>The chief dainties at that delectable feast--which,
<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>by-the-by, lasted three hours and a half--were
swallows’-nest soup, a very expensive dish, I believe;
sharks’ fins, more or less eatable; eggs, which had
been buried for several months and had become the
consistency and colour of old Stilton cheese; and
many other similar dainties which I fail to remember,
but all swimming in the inevitable and savoury
Chinese sauce made of pig and goose fat. Of course,
tastes differ, but I own to preferring the more commonplace
chicken-and-ham supper menu to the above
delicacies.</p>
<hr class='c016' />
<p class='c001'>Another ceremony of a very different character at
which I was soon afterwards present, was the Shinto
funeral of His Imperial Highness Prince Arizugawa,
uncle to the present Emperor. There is a most
remarkable custom in Japan--that any person of
Royal blood who dies away from home must have his
death concealed until his body can be removed to his
own palace. On this occasion, for several days after
the Prince’s death was an open secret, official bulletins
were issued describing his condition as very critical.
On the arrival of the coffin at the Imperial Palace in
Tokio, however, his death was publicly announced
to have taken place--quite a week later than was
really the case.</p>
<p class='c001'>By an early hour the streets of Tokio were thronged
with an expectant crowd, all in their best attire--a
picturesque gathering, very different from our sober-coloured
crowd in England. Death to a Japanese
<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>does not inspire the same dread and awe with which
we are accustomed to associate it.</p>
<p class='c001'>The day was all one could desire--one of those
brilliant frosty days which make the winter of
Japan so delightful. The funeral procession left the
palace about 9 a.m., preceded by a large number
of mounted troops; and the roads were lined by
the infantry to keep back the crowd. Not wishing
to follow the procession at a foot-pace for over
two hours--the Imperial burial-ground being nearly
five miles from the Prince’s palace--my father and
I started an hour later and, driving by a shortcut,
reached our destination in good time. Only
those having tickets were admitted into the Temple
grounds, but there was a very large gathering--almost
every nation being represented. The gay uniforms
of the Japanese Officials, Admirals, and Generals; the
entire Corps Diplomatique, Consuls from Yokohama,
the officers from the Russian and German men-of-war,
and the Chinese and Koreans in their quaint
dress, all formed a brilliant gathering, standing out
against the dark background of the great cryptomeria
trees.</p>
<p class='c001'>Several ladies were present, all in deep mourning;
among them we noticed two of the Royal Princesses.
Refreshments were provided in a small Japanese
house in the grounds; and the hot coffee and sandwiches
seemed much appreciated by many who had
come up by an early train from Yokohama that
morning. As the faint notes of the bugle announced
<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>the approach of the procession, we all formed into
a long line near the entrance-gate.</p>
<p class='c001'>The priests walked first, arrayed in white silk
kimonos, with curious erections of stiff black silk
on their heads, somewhat resembling the helmet
of Britannia. Then followed the choir, playing a
weird incantation on their curious instruments. As
I have said before, those who have not heard
Japanese music can hardly realize how utterly
unlike it is to the music of the West. Harmony it
has none, and the wailing, dirge-like sounds are
somewhat trying to the uninitiated. Notwithstanding,
I noticed a solemn dignity in the mournful
strains which had never struck me before.</p>
<p class='c001'>Great numbers of wreaths, also enormous erections
of artificial and natural flowers in bamboo stands,
were carried by men in white cloaks. Some of
these offerings were over twelve feet in height and
required two men to carry them. These were
followed by the late Prince’s servants, his horses,
then more priests--one carrying on a wooden stand
a pair of shoes for the use of the departed spirit on
its journey to Paradise or Hades, as the case might
be. Then came the coffin, enclosed in a plain white
wood sarcophagus, from which appeared a piece of
the sleeve of the dead Prince’s kimono, which, I
must own, produced a most uncanny effect.</p>
<p class='c001'>A Shinto corpse is always buried in a sitting
position, fully dressed, with head bent to the knees
in attitude of prayer. The coffin was carried by a
<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>dozen men, all in white and bare-headed. Young
Prince Arizugawa followed immediately after his
father’s coffin. He was in old Court dress--a petticoat
of black silk, very full, giving the appearance of
a divided skirt and a white silk kimono. He carried
a long, narrow piece of wood, which he held in front
of him, on which, doubtless, were inscribed prayers.
His head-dress was somewhat similar to that worn
by the priests, but at the back of the head was
fastened a large black wire hoop covered with silk.
In appearance the Prince is a small man, even for
a Japanese, but very dignified in manner, with a
clever, rather sad face. The ceremony must have
been a trying one for him, as he marched on foot in
the centre of the procession from one end of Tokio
to the other, and the Shinto funeral rites, as far as
the immediate relatives of the dead are concerned,
compelled them to remain by the coffin until after
sunset.</p>
<p class='c001'>Princess Arizugawa, the Empress’s messenger
and the late Prince’s mother were also in old
Japanese Court dress--enormous trousers of bright-red
material and white silk kimonos. Their hair
was dressed in the most fantastic style, part of it
standing out on either side of the head in stiff wings,
the back view of the head resembling a heart in
shape, the rest of the hair falling loosely down the
back. The poor little ladies seemed to experience
some difficulty in walking in their high clogs and
stiff trousers. I imagine they must prefer even
<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>European dress to this quaint, but unpractical
style.</p>
<p class='c001'>After waiting about an hour, while the coffin and
floral offerings were being arranged, we were conducted
to the other end of the Temple grounds,
where a temporary altar had been erected. The
priests, who were eight in number, after clapping
their hands before the altar to call the attention
of the gods and bowing to the ground repeatedly,
chanted several long prayers, and the choir again
began its dirge-like wailing. Then the priests in turn
placed a small white wooden stand in front of the
altar-steps, on each of which was a dish containing
different sorts of food. First, two fish were presented,
then a pair of wild duck, game, meat, rice,
bread, fruits, and lastly, a bottle of saké. Food is
always offered at a Shinto funeral for use of the
spirit of the departed, who is supposed to travel for
fifty days before his fate is finally decided by the
gods; and during that period prayers are incessantly
offered up by the priests and the family of the
deceased until the fiftieth day, when judgment is
supposed to be pronounced as to his future state.</p>
<p class='c001'>Before leaving, each guest in turn, beginning with
the messengers of the Emperor and Empress, placed
before the coffin a small branch of a tree, from which
hung strips of white paper cut into little angular
bunches, intended to represent the offerings of cloth
which in ancient days were tied to the branches of
the ‘cleyera’ tree in festival time. When our turn
<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>came, over a hundred branches had been presented,
and, on leaving, we passed a large crowd with their
offerings in their hands. The whole ceremony was
exceedingly simple. Indeed, the chief characteristic
of the Shinto religion is its simplicity; and ‘to follow
the dictates of your own conscience and to obey the
Mikado’ embraces the whole of its religious teaching.
The present religion of the country is Shinto, but
many of the Buddhist ceremonies have become
mingled with it, although each religion has its distinctive
marks.</p>
<div class='figcenter id014'>
<img src='images/i_b123.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
</div>
<div class='chapter'>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>
<h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER X <br /> <span class='fss'>CHANG, MY CHOW</span></h2>
</div>
<p class='c015'>His first appearance--Adventures and mishaps--Companions
in Hospital--Chang goes to Church--Facing the enemy.</p>
<div class='c009'>
<img class='drop-capi' src='images/i_b124.jpg' width='175' height='361' alt='' />
</div><p class='drop-capi1_0'>
Among all the reminiscences of
my life in Japan I think those
in which my Chinese chow dog
played a part are perhaps the
most vivid in my memory.</p>
<p class='c001'>We had some good times
together, Chang and I, and I
fear the chief blame lies at his
mistress’s door for not training
him up in the way he should
go. But who can teach a chow
what he doesn’t want to learn?
A cleverer person than I.</p>
<p class='c001'>How well I remember Chang’s
first appearance on the scene--a
Sunday afternoon in Tokio.
Enter Yami, very hot and agitated, holding a
struggling yellow ball in his arms. Here was the
much-longed-for chow puppy, sent me by a friend
<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>from Hong Kong. What a queer little chap he
was, with his bright brown eyes and black tongue.
Exceedingly dirty, too, I am sorry to have to
confess, in spite of several baths on his arrival at
Yokohama, to which I was told he much objected.</p>
<p class='c001'>As Chang grew up he became the very finest
chow dog seen out of China. What high-class
specimens may be reserved for the special consumption
of the yellow-jacketed and peacock-befeathered
Chinese mandarin I know not, but in the ‘Land of
the Rising Sun’ he decidedly held his own.</p>
<div id='b125' class='figcenter id015'>
<img src='images/i_b125.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>THREE FRIENDS (<em>p.</em> 127).</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>Which reminds me--and I have it on the best
authority, that of His Excellency Mr. Wong, late
Chinese Minister in Tokio, since beheaded--that
chow dogs are <em>not</em> eaten in China.</p>
<p class='c001'>I had two little Japanese chins at that time--Yum-Yum
and Dodo--which ran Chang very close
in my affections. What pretty little things they
were! Yum-Yum, no bigger than a fair-sized kitten,
but almost human in intelligence and powers of
affection, with her pretty little bird-like ways. I
fancy even Chang’s stony heart now and then felt a
pang of jealousy when he saw her sitting on my
shoulder, nibbling a bit of lettuce, or chin-chinning
to an admiring audience on the dining-room table
for a grape or wee bit of apple.</p>
<p class='c001'>Then the fat, sturdy Dodo too, with his long,
black-and-white, silky coat and inquiring mind. I
can see him now, gazing, with head on one side, like
a pert cock-robin, at that funny, immovable little
<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>policeman outside the gates. I sometimes almost
wondered myself if that small wooden figure were
really alive, or only a dummy in uniform and sword,
for surely it would have made a cat laugh to see
Dodo’s never-ending astonishment and curiosity.</p>
<p class='c001'>One constant source of excitement in Chang’s life
at Tokio were the black crows. What games he
used to play with them, feigning sleep, until those
wary thieves would venture to make a raid on a half-finished
bone; then up he would jump, and a mad
chase would follow. But those wily old birds somehow
always got the best of it, and would sit, cawing
away triumphantly, in the twisted pine-tree just out
of his reach.</p>
<p class='c001'>But Chang was a great source of anxiety to me
sometimes in those days, to say nothing of expense.
Only the other evening, looking over some old papers,
I came across the following bill, for which he is
responsible:</p>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center'>
<div><span class='sc'>Bill for Medical Treatment of the Chow Dog.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<table class='table1' summary=''>
<colgroup>
<col width='66%' />
<col width='16%' />
<col width='16%' />
</colgroup>
<tr>
<td class='c012'>Consultation</td>
<td class='c014'>1 yen.</td>
<td class='c013'> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'>Examination</td>
<td class='c014'> </td>
<td class='c013'>75 sen.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'>Operation</td>
<td class='c014'>2 yen</td>
<td class='c013'>25 sen.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'>Lodging, milk-and-egg diet for above-named animal during one month</td>
<td class='c014'>4 yen</td>
<td class='c013'>50 sen.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'> </td>
<td class='c013' colspan='2'>‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c020'>Total</td>
<td class='c014'>8 yen</td>
<td class='c013'>50 sen.<a id='rD' /><a href='#fD' class='c017'><sup>[D]</sup></a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c012'> </td>
<td class='c013' colspan='2'>‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c020'><em>First-class Veterinary Institution,</em></td>
<td class='c014'> </td>
<td class='c013'> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class='c020'><em>Komobar, Tokio.</em></td>
<td class='c014'> </td>
<td class='c013'> </td>
</tr>
</table>
<hr class='c018' />
<div class='footnote' id='fD'>
<p class='c001'><a href='#rD'>D</a>. Equals about 17s. 6d.</p>
</div>
<hr class='c018' />
<div id='b129' class='figcenter id007'>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>
<img src='images/i_b129.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>THE GARDEN OF THE LITTLE TEA-HOUSE (<em>p.</em> 131).</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>Ah! had it not been for the kind care and skill
of those clever little Japs, he would not now be
basking in luxury by the fire.</p>
<p class='c001'>One day I found him lying, to all appearance, dead
under the pink camellia-bush in the garden of that
little tea-house far away from Tokio in the interior
where we were staying. What could be the matter?</p>
<p class='c001'>‘Poison, evidently,’ suggested one would-be comforter.
Had he not barked at that melancholy-looking
individual, who had apparently come to this
far-off, secluded spot, in search of quiet and repose?
No wonder, then, a foreigner’s dog--and such a dog--should
be quietly, but surely, condemned!</p>
<p class='c001'>I was in despair. What was to be done?</p>
<p class='c001'>‘Consult a city magistrate?’ There was no city,
and certainly no magistrate.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘The village doctor’--brilliant suggestion from
our faithful interpreter, Idaka. A rickshaw was
summoned, and with many injunctions and--let me
confess--a few tears, the poor, unconscious treasure
was sent off in Yami’s watchful charge.</p>
<p class='c001'>Three hours’ waiting, whilst a long line of patient
and sick little Japanese went up for consultation to
the kind old ‘isha-san’ (doctor), who lived in the
little wooden house at the end of the narrow street,
with the big tiger-lily before the door. There he sat
upon his mat on the floor, clad in his blue kimono,
with spectacles and pipe, waiting to receive his
patients, with a little brass hibatchi burning away
beside him.</p>
<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>Chang’s pulse and tongue having been both
examined, Yami was given a small cardboard box
containing six minute pills.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘One every two hours until the patient is better.’
By mistake the pills all falling into his bread-and-milk,
were swallowed in one dose, but fortunately
no fatal result ensued.</p>
<p class='c001'>The next day we returned to Tokio. How were
we to dispose of the poor suffering one during the
four hours’ rickshaw drive? Finally Chang was rolled
up in a rug at my feet and all went well for the first
twelve miles or so, when our rickshaw coolie in the
shafts took it into his head to bolt down a steep hill.
Result, a smash--a confused heap of mistress and
dog on the ground, a broken-kneed coolie, to say
nothing of the telescoping of the other rickshaws in
the rear, which, not being able to stop in their
downward course, were literally jammed together,
the shafts of one going straight through the back of
the one in front. Stiff and shaken as I was, I have
seldom laughed more than at the sight the unfortunate
occupants presented in their original
prison. However, after some difficulty, at last we
arrived home, and the next day Chang was sent off
to that most excellent Japanese institution, the
Komobar, where, after a month’s residence and the
previously mentioned bill, he returned home convalescent,
not, however, in his former unblemished
condition. Having had inflammation of both lungs,
it was thought necessary to blister his sides, and the
<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>absence of hair was replaced by a blue linen wadded
coat, tied on with tape, and with two holes for the
front-legs.</p>
<div id='b133' class='figcenter id007'>
<img src='images/i_b133.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>THE KIND OLD ‘ISHA-SAN’ (<em>p.</em> 131).</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>Poor Chang, how he hated being the laughing-stock
of those odious curs in the neighbourhood.
But we tried our best to console him by making him
a coat of yellow iron-cloth, which we likened to
the late Li Hung Chang’s renowned yellow jacket.</p>
<p class='c001'>Chang’s little friends, the Japanese spaniels, were
also his companions in hospital. Strange to say,
about this time Dodo caught small-pox, or what
Dr. Hitchikito pronounced to be such, and was
promptly bundled off to the hospital for a three-weeks’
residence in a large wicker cage, with strict
quarantine, whence he returned somewhat thinner,
but just as pompous as ever.</p>
<p class='c001'>Little Yum-Yum’s illness was of a different nature.
During our absence from Tokio she pined to such an
extent that her little brain could no longer stand the
strain, and she developed brain-fever. We received
one morning a frantic telegram from the cook to
say ‘Yum-Yum seriously ill; under treatment.’ On
our return, we found the patient better, looking
very interesting, lying in a small brown basket
before the kitchen fire. She had sufficient strength
to give a weak little bark of joy, and feebly lick
our hands with her tiny red tongue. We were told
she had literally been packed in ice to reduce the
fever, until her silken coat stood out stiff and
straight like frozen snow.</p>
<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>They are clever men those Japanese veterinaries.
Where else in the world would an animal have been
treated in that scientific and up-to-date fashion?</p>
<p class='c001'>I think there were moments when Chang must
have been possessed of an evil spirit, otherwise what
can have put it into his disobedient head to follow
me to church one Sunday morning, in spite of strict
orders to remain at home?</p>
<p class='c001'>After he had been three times removed from the
aisle by the irate churchwarden, I was at last
obliged to escort him myself to what I thought was
a safe distance, and, leaving him trotting sadly away
up the little path towards the house, I returned to
church and my devotions quite happy in my mind.</p>
<p class='c001'>All went well until the sermon. The curate was
just going up into the pulpit when I saw him
suddenly start back, very nearly falling over as he
did so, and then beckon to one of the choir-boys.
An animated discussion followed, then the boy,
looking somewhat pale, mounted the steps, dived
down into the pulpit, and, to my horror, I saw
Chang being dragged out, much against his will,
looking extremely cross, but otherwise perfectly
regardless of the commotion he was causing.</p>
<p class='c001'>When he had been safely marched out through
the vestry, and the door firmly closed, the service
was resumed, but I noticed that the sermon was
somewhat dogmatic that morning. A thousand
pardons!</p>
<div id='b137' class='figcenter id007'>
<img src='images/i_b137.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>THE LITTLE HOUSE IN THE FOREST (<em>p.</em> 139).</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>On investigation, I discovered that Chang, as
<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>soon as my back was turned, had followed me quietly
at some little distance, and, entering the church
unperceived by the vestry door, decided to take his
morning nap on the pulpit mat until it should be
time to escort me home.</p>
<p class='c001'>The next morning I received a polite note from
the curate asking me kindly to abstain in future
from bringing my dog to church, as, although he
admired him immensely, he thought a dog a somewhat
disturbing element on such occasions. In
future, on Sunday mornings, before our departure to
church, the offender was firmly secured to the leg of
the kitchen table, and we had no more startling
apparitions to distract us.</p>
<p class='c001'>I think life would have been quite ideal in our
summer quarters at Karuizawa had it not been for
that odious black chow that lived in the other little
house in the forest, just across the stream down
below.</p>
<p class='c001'>He was not to be compared to Chang in beauty,
and, I must confess, in a tooth-to-tooth fight, Chang
invariably got the worst of it. After a daily encounter
on neutral grounds, affairs reached a crisis when,
one day, in a fit of bravado, my hero ventured into the
enemy’s camp, and a terrific and sanguinary battle
followed. In one last, desperate struggle, they fell
together into the gold-fish pond, and were only
rescued from a watery grave by the gallant exertions
of the black chow’s master, who dragged them out
dripping, half dead, but still locked in a deadly
<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>embrace, only to be loosened by the repeated application
of buckets of water and finally pepper on their
respective noses.</p>
<p class='c001'>The appearance of my friend for the next few days
resembled that of a victim to mumps, combined with
a black and swollen eye and a somewhat mangy
condition of his naturally glossy coat.</p>
<p class='c001'>Even that, alas! did not cure Chang’s pugilistic
tendencies. How often has he returned home a
sadder, though I fear not a wiser, dog! On one
occasion with but three sound legs; on another, with
a hole the size of a bullet-wound in his throat from
a mastiff’s fang. But enough of these painful reflections.</p>
<div id='b140' class='figcenter id016'>
<img src='images/i_b140.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>CHANG’S FIRST APPEARANCE.</p>
</div>
</div>
<div class='chapter'>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>
<h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER XI <br /> <span class='fss'>FURTHER ADVENTURES OF CHANG</span></h2>
</div>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center c021'>
<div>The tale of a tub--Sayonara--Board-ship acquaintance--Queer company.</div>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c022'><a id='b141'></a></p>
<div class='float-left c023'>
<table class='table2' summary=''>
<colgroup>
<col width='100%' />
</colgroup>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='1'><span class='htmlonly'><img class="inline" src="images/i_b141.jpg" alt="b141" /></span><span class='epubonly'><img class="inline" src="images/i_b141e.jpg" alt="b141" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class='c011' colspan='1'>YUM-YUM AND DODO.</td></tr>
</table>
</div>
<p class='drop-capi1_0'>There is one more reminiscence
of that happy summer
I must recall; I recollect it
very nearly ended disastrously
for my hero.</p>
<p class='c024'>We started one morning
at sunrise, a party of four
foreigners, twelve coolies, a
guide, and one wildly-excited
yellow dog, to the little
island of M----, where there
is a curious old monastery inhabited
by Buddhist monks.
After a steep descent of nearly two hours, we reached
the valley, and drove off gaily, three coolies to each
rickshaw, two pulling tandem in front and one
pushing behind.</p>
<p class='c024'>Our road lay close along the coast: on one side
the blue waters of the Inland Sea, with the waves
<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>rippling upon the yellow sand; on the other, the
green rice-fields, with the women hard at work at
their monotonous labour, looking, nevertheless, very
picturesque in their short blue linen kimonos and
white handkerchiefs tied over their black hair. A
peculiarity we noticed in this locality was that the
female portion of the population seemed to do all
the work. Women, mares, and cows are be seen
everywhere as beasts of burden, whereas the masculine
element appears to enjoy comparative leisure.</p>
<p class='c024'>This is by the way, however.</p>
<p class='c024'>After a three hours’ ride, at the rate of about five
and a half to six miles an hour, during which time
the sun had risen and become very powerful, whilst
we felt the change from the invigorating mountain
air we had come from, we at last arrived at a small
and exceedingly dirty tea-house. The first stuff they
brought us we could not drink. It was only daikon,
our guide assured us; wholesome possibly, but very
nasty.</p>
<p class='c024'>After partaking of some honourable tea and being
supplied with ‘waragi’ (straw sandals) and long sticks,
as the road was bad, we left our jinrickshaws and
coolies to wait our return, and started off on foot.</p>
<p class='c024'>The island is only accessible at low tide, so we
waited patiently on the beach for an hour, and
watched the innumerable little ‘sampans,’ with their
curious square sails, plying their way through the surf.</p>
<p class='c024'>As soon as the tide was sufficiently low, we were
carried across to the island on the backs of some
<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>funny brown-skinned fishermen--an experience more
exciting than comfortable.</p>
<div id='b143' class='figcenter id007'>
<img src='images/i_b143.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>THE MONASTERY IN THE ROCK.</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c024'>Then up the narrow street, with quaint little
shops on either side, where we spent all our ‘sens’
buying curious shell ornaments, dried sea-horses and
endless rubbish; and where I distinguished myself
by purchasing what I fondly imagined to be the red,
painted shell of a small crab. On putting it, for
safety, in the crown of my hat, I discovered, to my
<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>horror, the brute was still alive and capable of using
its claws!</p>
<p class='c024'>Then a steep climb up the rocks, at every turn
getting the most glorious peeps of the sea down
below, until we arrived, hot and breathless, at the
monastery. There we found two smiling monks, ‘all
shaven and shorn,’ standing at the door waiting to
receive us, who begged us ‘to be kind enough to
favour their wretched dwelling by reposing our
honourable forms on a mat.’ In a weak moment,
I suggested a bath, always a great institution in
Japan on every possible occasion, and our guide,
translating my request to the monks, was informed
that one should be prepared immediately for the
‘ojo-sama’ (honourable young lady) at whatever
temperature she required.</p>
<p class='c024'>In the meantime, we decided to climb to the topmost
rock and inspect the view. On our return, I
was told that my bath was ready, and, with many
smiles and the lowest of bows, I was conducted by
two of the monks to a large open quadrangle, in the
centre of which was a big wooden tub, about four
feet high, out of which clouds of steam were issuing.
Groups of monks stood about the quadrangle.
The advent of visitors was a great event in their
monotonous lives and the idea that I might not
appreciate their presence had not occurred to them
for a moment.</p>
<p class='c024'>What on earth was I to do?</p>
<p class='c024'>I explained as well as I could, to our guide, that
<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>foreign ladies were not accustomed to take their
baths in public, and at length, after an animated
conversation, of which I did not understand a word, to
my great relief, I saw that terrible and still steaming
tub being slowly but surely removed from its place
of honour.</p>
<p class='c024'>What a strange ‘tiffin’ those kind monks gave
us, and what a merry party we were sitting on the
floor, round a little table one foot high and trying
to eat with chopsticks! How our hosts laughed at
our awkwardness. I think Chang got most of those
queer-looking little dishes. I can remember the
menu now.</p>
<p class='c024'>First we had raw fish, with soy and pickled
turnip; then seaweed soup and young rushes;
prawns, bamboo-shoots, and lotus-root; rice, in
bowls, which we found absolutely maddening to eat
with chopsticks; hot saké, tea, and pipes. I believe
there were also some unwholesome-looking little
biscuits and arsenic-coloured bean-cakes. Without
these delicacies no Japanese banquet is complete.</p>
<p class='c024'>Then, after an hour’s rest, off we started again to
the caves down by the sea. How clear the water
was! We could distinctly see the beds of coral far,
far down below. A shoal of sardines flitted hither
and thither like a long line of silver. A school of
porpoises were splashing about at a little distance;
and we fancied we saw the black fin of a shark rising
out of the water not very far off.</p>
<p class='c024'>As we sat there watching the waves dashing up
<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>over the rocks, two strange, brown, naked beings
suddenly appeared from one of the caves and offered
to dive for some live lobsters, if we would give them
a few sen. Down they plunged, and so long were
they gone that we began to think, they really must
be demons from the sea, and not men at all.
Suddenly, a dripping creature stood before us, with
surely a lobster in its mouth, which it put down on
the rocks with a grin of triumph. Then, what must
Chang do but examine this strange-looking sea-trophy,
with the result that we heard a yell of pain
and saw him dancing madly about with a black
lobster firmly fastened to his nose! Before we could
come to his help over he fell, backwards, into the
sea below, and was borne rapidly away by the swift
current. The two brown demons plunged in after
him, and with some difficulty he was restored to land,
gasping and stunned, but safe.</p>
<p class='c024'>Full of gratitude, I presented the rescuers with a
yen (Japanese dollar), which they received with many
bows, rubbing their knees with their claw-like fingers
and hissing through their teeth in the most polite
Japanese manner. We noticed, however, they
seemed much entertained about something as they
scrambled off to their caves, chattering and laughing.</p>
<p class='c024'>What could have so amused them?</p>
<p class='c024'>After some hesitation, our guide confessed that they
were saying that the ‘ojo-san’ must be a silly fool
to have given so much for saving a dog, when, on a
previous occasion, having rescued a child at the same
<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>spot, the grateful parents had presented them with
only ten sen (2½d.)!</p>
<hr class='c016' />
<p class='c024'>I have not forgotten how Chang was once the
means of saving my life. How well I remember
that night in January! The snow lay thick on the
ground and there was every appearance of a continued
hard frost as I looked out of my bedroom
window on the moonlit scene below.</p>
<p class='c024'>Chang had been very restless all the evening,
jumping up and giving an impatient bark from time
to time, as if something were disturbing him. I had
induced him, however, to lie down on the mat in my
room, where he always slept, and jumping into bed
myself, I was soon fast asleep.</p>
<p class='c024'>It was about midnight, when I was suddenly
awakened by something pulling at my bed-clothes
and heard a low whine at my side. Wondering
what could be the matter, I sprang out of bed, and
had just hastily slipped on my dressing-gown and
slippers, when there was a loud roar like thunder,
followed immediately by a terrific crash, and the
whole house seemed to be falling. In less time than
it takes me to tell you, I was out of my room, flying
as fast as my feet would carry me down the stairs,
which were rocking so violently I could hardly
stand. On I rushed, out through the veranda into
the garden, until I found myself--how I know not--clinging
desperately to the branches of the twisted
pine-tree.</p>
<p class='c024'><span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>The earth was still trembling, though much less
violently, but I expected at any moment another,
and possibly a stronger, shock to follow and the
ground to open and swallow me up. However, all
gradually became still, and I was able to look around
me and realize what had happened.</p>
<p class='c024'>What a strange scene it was!</p>
<p class='c024'>The black crows, which had been much disturbed
by my sudden intrusion to their roosting-place,
cawed harshly as they flapped down from the
branches above me, brushing heavily against me
with their great black wings in their flight. The
ground all around was covered with its pure mantle
of snow, white and peaceful, as if no terrific force
of nature lay below, ready at any moment to blot
it out for ever.</p>
<p class='c024'>The moon, shining through the fleecy clouds,
looked down calm and cold. The cries of children,
the barking of many dogs, the twittering of birds
awakened from their slumbers, were heard on all
sides, whilst, as I climbed down from my perch, I
discovered it was decidedly cold, and that a tree is
not the most agreeable place in which to spend a
winter’s night.</p>
<p class='c024'>On approaching the house, which I found, almost
to my surprise, to be still standing, I was greeted
with many anxious inquiries as to my disappearance,
and by loud barks of joy from my faithful Chang.
Later on I realized how much I owed to him, as,
on going up to my room, I discovered that a large
<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>piece of plaster from the ceiling had fallen on my
bed and, had I not been warned in time, I should
most certainly have been severely injured, if not
killed.</p>
<p class='c024'>Slight shocks continued at intervals, and I spent
the remainder of the night on the drawing-room
sofa. The earthquake had evidently unhinged Dodo’s
inquiring mind, as at each recurring tremor he rushed
frantically round and round in a circle, howling
dismally, and would not be pacified.</p>
<p class='c024'>Chang, being more philosophic--like all Celestials--considered
that his duty lay in defending his
mistress from that ‘terrible subterranean fish, whose
tail was the cause of so much disturbance’--Japanese
superstition--and lay down calmly at my feet; with
one ear, however, well on the alert, to be prepared
for all emergencies.</p>
<p class='c024'>The next morning we found the town was a
scene of desolation, and had the appearance of a
bombarded city. There were cracks in the ground
in some places five feet wide, walls down, roofs off,
chimneys shattered, our dear little church destroyed,
and, worse than all, the reported loss of many lives,
though, happily, of no Europeans.</p>
<p class='c024'>An earthquake evidently takes people differently.
Several persons I heard of afterwards, mad with
fear, had jumped from the upper windows of their
houses, and were more or less seriously injured.
One lady I knew, had retired under her bed, whilst
her husband, in the act of running from the house,
<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>suddenly remembered he had left behind him, not
his wife, but his favourite cigar-case, which he
promptly returned for and rescued! One of the
servants took refuge on the roof, another in the arms
of her more-valiant half in violent hysterics. Others
flew wildly hither and thither, whilst a few had
sufficient presence of mind to station themselves in
the doorways.</p>
<p class='c024'>Buildings and furniture have also the strangest
vagaries on these occasions. A solidly-built house
close by us was literally in ruins, whereas ours
sustained little or no injury. I remember finding a
heavy clock on the ground, which had fallen off the
mantelpiece, and was still ticking away merrily, while,
in some cases, every possible ornament that could
get smashed did so with a thoroughness that defied
mending.</p>
<p class='c024'>‘But,’ as the French say, ‘one must suffer to
be beautiful,’ and had it not been for those terrible
volcanic eruptions, and those awful earthquake convulsions,
where would be that wonderful, that
mystical ‘Fuji-yama’ the Sacred Mountain--those
picturesque valleys and hills--those fantastically-shaped
rocks and mountain ranges, which add such
a charm and beauty to the islands of Japan?</p>
<hr class='c016' />
<p class='c024'>Oh, what good times we had that summer in the
little wooden house in the midst of the forest of
fir-trees far away in the mountains of Japan!</p>
<p class='c024'>What gallops over the hills in the early mornings,
<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>with the dew still on the grass and the larks
singing overhead!</p>
<div id='b151' class='figcenter id012'>
<img src='images/i_b151.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>MYSTICAL ‘FUJI-YAMA.’</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c024'>Sometimes Chang would escort us--though without
permission, I grieve to say--on our riding expeditions.
When we had gone two or three miles
along the plain, after leaving strict injunctions that
he was to be shut up until our return, a little speck
would be seen in the distance, rapidly developing
<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>into a panting, disobedient, yellow dog. Even
then, I fear, he did not get the punishment he
deserved. Who could be severe for long, with the
delicious mountain air fanning our cheeks, the blue
sky above, and, on either side of the narrow path, a
dazzling confusion of the most lovely wild-flowers--from
the tall white and orange lilies, waving their
stately heads in the summer breeze, down to the
little Japanese mountain edelweiss, which seemed to
flourish equally well under the hot Eastern sun as
does its sister in the West amongst the Alpine
snows?</p>
<p class='c024'>But I really believe the chief reason of the wily
one’s appearance was due to the thoughts of that
delectable and oily sardine-box, of which he was so
fond, and the tit-bits and scraps, which tasted so
much better out in the open than at home.</p>
<p class='c024'>Sometimes, too, after dinner, we would start off
to pay an evening call on one of our friends staying
in the village, each carrying a little paper lantern to
light the way. Here and there, in the opening
between the dark fir-trees, we could distinctly see
the outline of ‘Asamayama,’ the great volcano,
rising up like a black pyramid against the star-lit
sky, a crimson cloud concealing the summit, and an
occasional flame shooting up, as if to remind one of
the fires down below. The path through the forest
was so narrow we were obliged to go in single file,
our ‘four-runner,’ as we called Chang, trotting along
in front to guide us.</p>
<p class='c024'><span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>One evening, as we were warily picking our way
over the stepping-stones across the stream at the
edge of the forest--a somewhat difficult matter in
the darkness--Chang suddenly stopped short, uttered
a low growl, and we distinctly heard the rustle of
something in the long grass close by. Peering down
with our lanterns, we saw the outline of a large
snake, and heard the reptile hiss viciously as it disappeared
into the brushwood. In spite of many
assurances that these large snakes in Japan were
perfectly harmless, and only the little flat-headed
‘mamushi’ deadly, I always chose to consider that,
but for Chang’s timely warning, one of us would
certainly have been poisoned.</p>
<p class='c024'>Alas! those happy days in Japan are over now.
All things must come to an end, and we, too, at last,
had to say good-bye to fair Japonica, with its flowers,
its sunshine, its dear, kindly, merry little people, and
sail away westward. I look back and see it all again:
the quaint little streets; the children flying their
kites, with their small brothers and sisters firmly
secured on their backs; the never-ceasing murmur
of ‘Houdah-huydah,’ as the patient coolies slowly
drag their heavy burdens up the hills; and all the
countless sights and sounds only to be seen in that
delightful land.</p>
<p class='c024'>Even the earthquakes, the typhoons, and the
terrible floods seem to lose half their terrors viewed
across that mighty expanse of ever-rolling ocean that
separates us now from all things Japanese.</p>
<div id='b154' class='figcenter id007'>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>
<img src='images/i_b154.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>THE LOTUS FLOWER OF JAPAN.</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c024'>Sometimes, at night, as I lie awake in my Norfolk
home and listen to the murmur of the surf breaking
against the cliffs far below, I fancy I can hear the
whispered Sayonaras, borne on the waves from my
<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>friends far away; and as the wind sighs round the
house like a soul in trouble, I am reminded of those
charming lines from ‘The Light of Asia’:</p>
<div class='lg-container-b c007'>
<div class='linegroup'>
<div class='group'>
<div class='line'>‘Ye are the voices of the wandering wind,</div>
<div class='line'>Who seek for rest, and rest can never find,’</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c019'>and I wonder if perchance in their restless journeyings
they will bear back my answering message:
‘Sayonara! Farewell, farewell!’</p>
<hr class='c016' />
<p class='c001'>But I am moralizing. This will never do. I
must not forget our journey to Assam, nor the
disaster that befell us at Hong Kong. Up to there
all went well. At Kobé we were fêted and made
much of by the kind friend who rescued Chang
from drowning in the gold-fish pond. No dog could
have behaved better. His meekness and propriety
were such that I inwardly marvelled at the change,
and our hospitable host and hostess were almost
in tears at his departure. ‘Such a sweet, gentle
creature, and so good!’ I knew better; but ‘sufficient
for the day.’</p>
<p class='c001'>At Nagasaki we had only a few hours on shore,
but, wishing to give Chang exercise, I took him for
a walk along the Bund, and we wandered about
the quaint streets of that most picturesque town
immortalized by Pierre Loti.</p>
<p class='c001'>There, in spite of many temptations--such as tailless
cats and mangy curs, that looked only made to
be annihilated--my hero returned to the steamship
<em>Hohenzollern</em>, having resisted all except a villainous-looking
<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>coolie’s legs and a half-blind mongrel puppy--they
hardly count.</p>
<p class='c001'>Our next port was Hong Kong, where we changed
steamers and spent a couple of days in that charming
Blue Bungalow away up on the hill. What a
lovely spot it was, with its trailing creepers and
tropical vegetation, though terribly hot in summer,
I believe. There, too, Chang was admired and
made much of by all, except the five Siamese cats,
who were banished to the kitchen regions, much to
their disgust. It was a necessary removal, though,
and the one and only meeting between him and
those strange-looking, mouse-coloured, blue-eyed
quadrupeds was rather disastrous to the drawing-room
furniture; but one must draw the line somewhere,
and he evidently considered--at a Siamese
cat.</p>
<p class='c001'>The morning of our departure on board the North
German Lloyd’s steamship <em>Kaiser</em> was one of those
days in a Hong Kong spring when the air seems
full of the scent of delicious flowers. The twining
bougainvillea was a blaze of brilliant crimson in
the morning sunlight; the waxen flowers of the
stephanotis and gardenia glistened like snow against
their dark-green foliage; masses of delicate tropical
ferns grew all around in rich profusion; gorgeous
butterflies flittered hither and thither across our
path.</p>
<p class='c001'>A delicate gossamer mist hung over the harbour,
converting those great iron monsters of civilization
<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>into phantom ships, as we were rowed across the
water to our steamer, bound for Colombo.</p>
<p class='c001'>Oh, what was it induced Chang, the now virtuous
and reformed dog, to bolt down the gangway and on
to the quay just as we were about to sail from Hong
Kong? Heedless of all else but that my well-beloved
was leaving me, I tore after him, on and on
along the quay, into the hot and steaming town.
What cared I for the frantic shouts from my father
on board, or the wild excitement of John Chinaman,
who, seeing the mad chase, added yet to the general
confusion by his hideous yells?</p>
<p class='c001'>At last I captured the runaway, and, breathless
and spent, we sank together in a heap on the muddy
road. A few minutes later, an exhausted and disreputable
pair were to be seen wending their way back
to the quay, the deserter firmly secured by a chain.</p>
<p class='c001'>I wonder if that wicked dog had any self-reproach
for my feelings when, on arriving at the docks, I
saw to my horror the <em>Kaiser</em> had departed with all my
worldly possessions on board, including money; and
was slowly, but surely, steaming out of the harbour.</p>
<p class='c001'>What was to be done?</p>
<p class='c001'>In the distance I saw my friends rushing up and
down the deck, gesticulating wildly. I could even
hear a faint shout from the captain, but what good
was that?</p>
<p class='c001'>I was just considering whether to jump in and
swim--such was my state of mind at the moment--or
to accept the inevitable, and throw myself on the
<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>mercy of some kind friend in Hong Kong until the
next steamer, a fortnight later, when, suddenly, I
heard a shout from one of the steamers close by,
and to my joy, perceived the kind, jolly face of the
captain of the <em>Hohenzollern</em>. He shouted to me to
wait until he could fetch me in his steam-launch,
luckily near at hand, and a few minutes later the
captain and I, with Chang securely fastened up in
the bows, were steaming along merrily towards the
great mail steamer; I fear, laughing heartily over
the adventure.</p>
<p class='c001'>When, however, the <em>Kaiser</em> stopped, and let down
a ladder to take the two runaways on board, I own
to a certain feeling of dread as to what punishment
might be in store for us.</p>
<p class='c001'>Luckily the captain was merciful and, in fact,
treated the affair as a good joke, which was far more
than we deserved, as it is considered rather a serious
matter to stop a steamer carrying mails, if even for
only a short time. We had to stand a good deal of
chaff during the voyage home, but somehow I don’t
think either of us minded much.</p>
<p class='c001'>The funniest part of it all was that Florence, my
friend from the Blue Bungalow, who had come on
board to see us off, in the excitement of the moment
was nearly carried off in my place, and had to be
lifted over the side of the ship, and into a boat
below, as the steam-launch, with all the other people
on board returning to Hong Kong, had already left
some minutes.</p>
<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>The time that elapsed between our sensational
‘send off’ and our arrival at Colombo was a little
over three weeks.</p>
<p class='c001'>At first Chang was regarded rather as a pet lamb
among the children and babies--there were seventy-five
little olive-branches on board. Then an officious
and quarrelsome German made a request to the
captain--who, poor man, always tried to please
everybody--that dogs on the promenade deck were
dangerous to the community at large; so my poor,
harmless chow, and also a minute canine specimen--a
Chinese sleeve-dog I believe it was called--were
banished to the charge of the butcher and steerage
passengers, in spite of many tears on the part of the
sleeve-dog’s owner and remonstrances from myself.</p>
<p class='c001'>Sometimes, however, before the ‘disagreeable
man,’ as he was called, appeared in the morning, we
would bribe the jolly old quarter-master to bring
Chang up on deck.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘Zo,’ he would say, ‘vat dee kinders dee hund
vant for to play vith? Ferry vell, I vill him up
bringen for a leetle.’ And then what romps he used
to have with his little playmates, chasing each other
round the deck, when the sailors would stop in their
never-ending work of polishing to watch the fun.</p>
<p class='c001'>How well I remember that strange little being,
half child, half demon, who used to fondle and caress
Chang so much! What a pretty pair they made,
sitting side by side, their heads close together, her
red-brown curls mingling with his thick yellow
<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>coat, and her little brown arms thrown round his
neck.</p>
<p class='c001'>What was it, I wonder, made him start away with
a yelp of pain, and look reproachfully at her from
under the refuge of my chair, safe from her wicked
little fingers?</p>
<p class='c001'>I think the ‘fiend,’ as we called her, was quite
the most beautiful child I had ever seen; she was
about eight years old, and was being sent to England,
under the charge of the captain, to be educated.</p>
<p class='c001'>Her father was an Englishman and her mother a
Cingalese, which accounted for the curious combination
of olive skin, red-brown hair and deep blue eyes
with their long lashes. She was marvellously graceful,
too. Her movements often reminded me of a young
tiger. Her moods were various. Sometimes, if the
spirit moved her, she would organize strange games
of her own invention, in which the children--who
were all completely under her influence--would be
commanded to join. Woe betide any child who
dared to disobey her instructions. ‘Fiend’ would
stamp her foot, her eyes would flash, and the unfortunate
little offender would retire howling to its
indignant ayah. In vain were the complaints of
fond parents to the captain. Such a spell did the
strange, beautiful child cast over the other children,
that neither threats nor entreaties could keep them
away when the next wild game was organized.
Even I fell under her strange fascination, although,
I regret to say, I, too, had to pay the penalty.</p>
<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>I think, in her half-savage way, she was fond of
me; and I had for that reason more influence with
her than had most people on board.</p>
<p class='c001'>But one morning, as I was sitting in my deckchair
with Chang at my side enjoying the sweet,
sleepy existence of a morning in the tropics, I
suddenly felt a little hand stroking my hair and
a soft cheek rubbing against my arm. Knowing
well what those cat-like caresses meant, and that
I was probably about to be asked some favour, I
continued reading until a sharp pain in my shoulder
caused me to jump to my feet, and there I saw my
tormentor, a truly wicked expression on her lovely
face, poised on the glass roof of the saloon well
out of my reach, and indignant Chang, evidently
knowing from experience what had happened, vainly
trying to reach the bare legs of the culprit. She
had calmly bitten my shoulder through my thin
cotton blouse, and it was some time before the marks
of her sharp little teeth disappeared.</p>
<p class='c001'>For the rest of the day I completely ignored her
existence. I think my plan was effective.</p>
<p class='c001'>That evening I came upon a solitary little
figure in the stern of the ship leaning against the
rails, her hands clasped, her eyes gazing far away at
the still crimson sunset.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘Oh God,’ I heard her say, ‘I know I am very
wicked, but somehow I can’t help it! <em>Please</em> wash
me with that stuff you always use to make bad people
good, for I am sorry, <em>really</em>!’</p>
<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>Poor child! There was much that was good
in her nature, but she needed a strong, yet loving
and patient, hand to guide her. I fear her life may
be a hard one. What a change from the wild, unfettered
existence in the East, where she ruled the
natives on her father’s estate with a rod of iron, and
rode bare-backed where her fancy chose over the
hills, to the stiff, conventional life, however advanced
and modified, of an English boarding-school!</p>
<p class='c001'>Soon after the incident just mentioned poor Chang
was seen on deck by the ‘disagreeable man,’ who for
some reason best known to himself had risen earlier
than usual that morning. Furious at having his
commands disregarded, he strode up to the captain’s
cabin, and, after abusing everyone on board, from the
skipper downwards, informed him that he should
lodge a complaint against the North German Lloyd
Steamship Company if that abominable Chinese cur
was seen again on deck.</p>
<p class='c001'>So from that day poor Chang was banished from
civilized society; not but what I consider--I speak
reservedly--that his steerage companions were infinitely
the more entertaining.</p>
<p class='c001'>What a strange collection they were! First,
the Burmese--quiet, gentle, brown-eyed creatures.
They were on their way to the Indian Exhibition,
where I afterwards saw them selling cigars and going
through their various performances. At first they
did not know me; but when I mentioned a certain
yellow dog named Chang they remembered at once,
<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>and were much delighted at hearing of their old
board-ship companion.</p>
<p class='c001'>Then there was the Buddhist priest in his quaint
garb, likewise on his way to the Exhibition; some
Cingalese rickshaw coolies--merry, indolent-looking
fellows, who seemed to take life very easily; also
several Chinamen, who sat all day long smoking
their long pipes or playing cards. I must not
forget those most uncanny-looking ourang-outangs,
too, which, as the weather became colder, were
dressed up in some cast-off sailors’ clothes, and
looked more horribly human than ever; nor that
dear little white bear, which was always curled up
fast asleep--and such heaps of small, chattering
monkeys; fowls, birds of all descriptions--a true
‘happy family.’</p>
<p class='c001'>I would often go down to pay Chang a visit and
find him the centre of an admiring group, looking
rather melancholy, but patiently submitting to the
unconscious teasing of those pretty little Burmese
children who so adored him.</p>
<p class='c001'>Sometimes he would be ‘down below’ in the
butcher’s quarters in company with a Siamese cat.
‘Friends in affliction’ they certainly had become,
sitting close together, puss purring away contentedly,
and rubbing her brown head against her companion’s
yellow coat as if they had been chums all their lives,
and the Siamese cat’s mistress and I would watch
them both unperceived, and wonder at the sight.</p>
<div class='chapter'>
<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>
<h2 class='c008'>CHAPTER XII <br /> <span class='fss'>PAUL AND VIRGINIA</span></h2>
</div>
<p class='c015'>Life on a tea-estate--My animal friends--Two brown bears--Brutus,
the monkey--Always in mischief--The Brazilian
Macaw.</p>
<div class='c009'>
<img class='drop-capi' src='images/i_b164.jpg' width='225' height='177' alt='' />
</div><p class='drop-capi1_0'>
At Colombo I basely
deserted Chang,
leaving him to the
charge of his kind
friend the butcher,
who dispatched him,
on the steamship
<em>Kaiser’s</em> arrival at
Southampton, to my
cousin at Aldershot; and for some weeks I heard no
more of my old favourite.</p>
<p class='c001'>We stayed a few days at Colombo, and from there
took a small steamer up to Assam, where my father
had a tea-estate, which needed his personal supervision
for a time. The change after my gay and busy
life in Japan was very great. My father was away
riding all day, and I was left alone at the bungalow
<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>except for the natives belonging to the estate, who
could hardly be considered companions.</p>
<p class='c001'>At first I felt rather forlorn and desolate, and
longed more than ever for some girl friend to keep
me company, but gradually I became very dependent
upon the society of a large and strange variety of
animals, to which I grew very much attached. Endless
are the tales I could relate about the faithfulness
and sagacity of various of my horses and dogs--to
say nothing of birds of all descriptions, from the
macaw--which saved my life from a desperate thief
one night by his keen sense of hearing when I was
alone in the bungalow--to the little bantam hen
that laid an egg for my breakfast every morning on
my bed.</p>
<p class='c001'>My strangest companions, I think, however, were
two brown bears who went by the names of Paul
and Virginia. Why they were thus called I forget.
My father found them as little cubs about three
weeks old in the jungle, their mother having been
killed a day or so previously by one of the men on
the estate. The poor little beasts were nearly
starved when I first saw them, but they rapidly
recovered after having a few pints of warm milk
poured down their throats. We fed them out of
an old soda-water bottle wrapped in flannel, and
it answered the purpose admirably.</p>
<p class='c001'>As the cubs grew older they became the most
delightful little creatures, and as playful as two
kittens. Paul was always the larger and stronger of
<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>the two, but little Virginia was like a ball of brown
fur, and had the gentlest and most winning ways
imaginable. Like all bears, they dearly liked water,
and we had a zinc bath made for them in the
compound, in which they would sit for hours during
the heat of the day--one at one end of the tub, and
one at the other; swaying their bodies backwards
and forwards as if they loved to hear the splash of
the water against the sides.</p>
<p class='c001'>As Paul grew bigger, however, he found that there
was not sufficient room for him and Virginia to
bathe together; so, hurrying to the bath a little
before the appointed bathing hour, he would jump
in, lie down flat at the bottom of the tub, and
effectually prevent his sister from taking her morning
ablutions until he had finished, and the water had
become most distinctly muddy. Poor Virginia’s face
was a study. Round and round the bath she used to
pace, uttering from time to time a plaintive whine,
but all of no avail; Paul ignored her existence
completely until his morning bath was finished,
although at other times they were excellent friends--in
fact, a most devoted couple.</p>
<p class='c001'>They had a constant companion in the shape
of a small gray monkey named Brutus. Now,
Brutus may have been ‘an honourable man,’ but my
Brutus was a most dishonest monkey. Had it not
been for his strange friendship with the bears, I
think I could not have stood his vagaries. Nothing
was sacred to him. Once my brush and comb
<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>disappeared, and when all efforts to find them had
been unavailing, I heard a mocking chuckle, and
discovered Brutus on the roof calmly brushing and
combing himself with my lost property, just as he
had, doubtless, observed me doing. Needless to say,
when my brush and comb came into my possession,
they were not of much further use to me.</p>
<p class='c001'>I cannot mention a quarter of Brutus’s many
offences and mischievous ways. If only he had
exercised his talents in some useful capacity, he
would have been, indeed, a valuable addition to
the family. He nearly put an end to himself one
day by trying to shave his little gray chin with
my father’s razors; and had I not been near at the
time and heard his piteous and truly human yells,
he would certainly have bled to death, as he had
given himself a frightful gash behind the neck,
completely severing one ear. His appearance for
several weeks afterwards resembled an old woman
with the toothache, and it was a long time before
he ventured into my father’s room again, although
he made up for it by persecuting the cook almost
to distraction. He was an intensely jealous little
beast, and took a most violent dislike to a black
kitten belonging to the kitchen regions. One day
the kitten disappeared, and the poor little thing’s
body was found in a saucepan of boiling soup.
Brutus, in a fit of jealous rage, had thrust his victim
into the saucepan on the fire, carefully replacing the
lid so that no escape was possible.</p>
<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>The monkey’s friendship with the bears was
purely mercenary. He was a lazy little beast, and
found that riding was the pleasantest way of getting
about the country. He therefore used to accompany
Paul and Virginia in all their expeditions, springing
lightly on the back of one or the other, holding on
by their thick brown fur, and sticking to his seat like
any jockey.</p>
<p class='c001'>It was the funniest thing in the world to see the
trio starting off for a long excursion into the jungle;
and I think in time that Bruin and his sister got
quite fond of their little master.</p>
<p class='c001'>The bears’ favourite sleeping-place was at the top
of a short, stunted tree just outside my room. This
had its disadvantages, as their presence attracted
other bears from the neighbourhood, which had not
the friendly and harmless dispositions of Paul and
Virginia. From time to time numerous ducks and
chickens began to disappear in a mysterious way.
A small and favourite dog also vanished, and, during
the night, we frequently heard sounds of stealthy
footsteps on the veranda, and, although my father
rushed out with his gun to investigate, nothing was
visible. In the morning, however, the invaders were
tracked right into the jungle, as, wherever they had
come, they had left devastation behind, tearing up
roots, breaking down hedges, and doing terrible
damage in our vegetable garden. In vain were traps
laid, and coolies set to watch round the house. All
was of no avail. Our live-stock grew gradually less
<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>and less, one by one the fowls disappeared, and we
were in despair. Affairs reached a climax, however,
one morning, when one of our coolies was missing,
and, after a long search, his mangled remains were
discovered some distance from the house, evidently
the victim of the midnight invaders.</p>
<p class='c001'>This settled the question. Paul and Virginia
must go--but where? Although they would have
been accepted at the Zoological Gardens in Calcutta,
we did not like the idea of subjecting them to confinement
in a cage. At last my father reluctantly
decided to shoot them; and one morning a court-martial
was held in the compound, attended by all
the coolies on the estate; a grave was dug, the condemned
were led out, two reports resounded through
the still morning air--one following quickly after
another--two brown heaps lay on the ground
motionless, and now nothing is left of poor Paul
and his sister but a grassy mound, with a little
wooden inscription bearing their names and the
date.</p>
<p class='c001'>Poor Brutus felt the loss of his companions keenly,
and for several days refused to take food. In fact, I
quite thought he would have died. But one morning,
on looking for him in his box where he always
slept, I found he had disappeared. I hunted for him
in vain, and had just come to the conclusion that he
must have committed suicide from grief, when one
of the coolies came to me in great excitement to say
Brutus had been seen riding one of the goats. True
<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>enough, riding in state on one of the largest goats in
the herd was seen the truant, looking very proud of
himself, and seemingly perfectly content with his
new companions. How the goats approved of their
rider I cannot say; anyhow, willing or unwilling,
they had to put up with his company. Every morning,
as soon as the herd were released from the enclosure
where they passed the night and turned out on the
hills, Brutus would spring on to the back of the
foremost goat and disappear with them for the day,
only returning at evening for his supper.</p>
<p class='c001'>About this time my supply of goat’s milk, which I
always took for my breakfast and supper, began to
diminish. I inquired the reason of the cook, but
could get no satisfactory solution. The quantity
became less and less, and one day I was informed
with many apologies that there was none, as Brutus
had taken it all!</p>
<p class='c001'>Thinking that probably the coolies were cheating
me and selling the milk, I abused every member of
the household roundly, and threatened, if no milk
were forthcoming for my supper that evening, they
would one and all be dismissed.</p>
<p class='c001'>At sunset that evening, however, my cook came
and begged me to come with him to the enclosure
where the goats were being milked. On my arrival
there, what was my amazement to see Brutus calmly
milking one of the goats, drinking a little from time
to time with much relish, whilst the remainder
trickled along the ground in a long white stream.
<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>The goat seemed perfectly unconcerned, and stood
quietly nibbling some grass as if nothing unusual
was occurring. We then discovered that all the
other goats had already been milked, probably at
intervals during the day, whenever it suited the
pleasure and wishes of Master Brutus, who evidently
seemed to consider that he was performing a very
meritorious action. I thought differently, however.
I was particularly fond of goat’s milk, and I was
in a country where good things were not to be had
for the asking, nor for money either, for that
matter.</p>
<p class='c001'>So after this I decided to shut Brutus up in a large
cage, anyhow for a time, until I could find some
other plan to keep him out of mischief. For the
next few days I was away from home a good deal
riding in the district with my father, and did not
notice Brutus particularly. Naturally he would be
feeling somewhat bored, but a little punishment
would do him good.</p>
<p class='c001'>One evening about a week later, on returning
home from a long ride, I went as usual to take the
little prisoner his supper. I thought the cage seemed
unusually quiet, but supposed he was asleep. On
looking in, however, I saw a tragic sight. How it
had happened, to this day I know not, but suspended
by a long string from the top of his cage hung
Brutus quite dead, evidently strangled. One end
of the string still fastened together a portion of
the roof of his wooden prison; the other end was
<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>tightly wound round and round his little gray
throat.</p>
<p class='c001'>I have never kept another monkey. They are too
human.</p>
<hr class='c016' />
<p class='c001'>The only other member of my happy family that
I brought home to England was the Brazilian
macaw, which I have already mentioned. Arara is,
without exception, the most beautiful and by far the
most intelligent bird I have ever seen. I have him
still, and long may he live, for he will never have an
equal. I believe he is about a hundred and fifteen
years old; but as the macaw belonging to the
Emperor of Japan is on the best authority a hundred
and thirty years old, there is every hope my old
favourite may still have many years before him.
Arara formerly belonged to a naval officer, who
brought him from Rio de Janeiro, where his ship
was stationed. On leaving there Captain R----
brought the macaw with him to Colombo, but the
long confinement in a cage much too small, and
indifferent food and treatment, affected his health
and temper so much that my friend decided to part
with him, and I became the happy possessor of
Arara. It is difficult to describe his plumage and
its wonderful combination of different colouring.
His back and breast are bright crimson, his tail
feathers a vivid electric blue, and his wings emerald
green. His eye is a bright yellow--I say eye
advisedly, as he possesses but one, owing to a fight
<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>on board ship with a young eagle. This loss, however,
rather adds to his personal appearance, giving
him a most cunning expression as he gazes down
from his perch, always on the alert as to what is
going on.</p>
<div id='b173' class='figcenter id017'>
<img src='images/i_b173.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
<div class='ic004'>
<p>ARARA</p>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>Although Arara’s vocabulary is not large--these
macaws are rarely taught to speak--he says a few
words very distinctly, and his imitation of other
animals is quite extraordinary.</p>
<p class='c001'>Often I have hunted vainly for a cat in my room,
hearing a piteous mewing, and thinking one must
be imprisoned in some cupboard, and all the time it
was Arara sitting on a branch of a tree below my
window. His imitation of the bleating of sheep, the
<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>cackling of hens, and the crowing of cocks would
puzzle the most observant.</p>
<p class='c001'>I must not forget to mention what happened
to that Chinese rascal Chang after we left him at
Colombo. Hearing nothing of him for over two
months, I fondly imagined he had settled down in
England a respectable and civilized dog. Alas, this
was anything but the case.</p>
<p class='c001'>One morning a letter arrived from my cousin at
Aldershot, saying that, after fighting with every dog
in the regiment and mortally wounding two pedigree
poodles, that terrible chow-dog had finally and hopelessly
disgraced himself by appearing one morning
on parade, completely disorganizing the men, who
were drawn up at attention, by wildly careering, up
and down between the lines, and jumping up at any
he chanced to recognise--a performance which did
not improve the appearance of their spotless pipe-clayed
belts and clean tunics, the morning happening
to be rather muddy.</p>
<p class='c001'>Finding that his affectionate greetings were not
appreciated, Chang next turned his attention to the
legs of the Colonel’s horse, thereby much disturbing
that noble steed and his rider.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘Whose dog is that?’ roared the Colonel, casting
an infuriated glance upon him.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘Captain X----’s, sir,’ replied the orderly.</p>
<p class='c001'>‘Confound it! what does he mean by keeping such
a brute? Tell Captain X---- to have the dog
removed from the barracks immediately.’</p>
<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>Oh, I blush now to think of Chang’s disgrace.
He was promptly billeted at a neighbouring inn;
but an evil spirit seems again to have possessed his
Celestial brain, and he was returned a few days later
‘with thanks,’ and an alarming bill for the slaughter
of numerous chickens and ducks.</p>
<p class='c001'>His subsequent career, I grieve to say, was a long
succession of iniquities. On our arrival in England
we took him down with us to Norfolk, thinking there
he must be out of harm’s way. At first all went
well. He spent his time meekly lying under the
dining-room table, looking as pious as a China pug.
But, alas! he chanced one day to observe one of
those irresistible pheasants he used to chase in the
mountains of Japan. From that moment he was
lost. Furious keepers brought tales of a ‘great
yallow, savage baste havin’ scared them thur burds,
‘til there’s no doin’ northin’ with ‘em’; of nests
destroyed, coops overturned, and countless other
offences too numerous to recount. Chang narrowly
escaped being shot on more than one occasion; and
from that time until his departure from the land
of game he was securely imprisoned in the stable,
there to repent his sins in solitude.</p>
<p class='c001'>What was I to do with such a dog? My
friends urged me to sell him, and I had several
excellent opportunities of doing so, but I could
not in that mercenary fashion part with my old
companion.</p>
<p class='c001'>Looking back on those days now, I marvel that
<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>we were not banished from civilized society; but
it is a long lane that has no turning, and at last
Chang began to reform. Whether it was the wire-muzzle
I made him wear, or the recollection of the
well-deserved and severe thrashing he received on
the terrible occasion when he worried a flock of
sheep, I know not; but slowly and surely he gave
up his many evil ways, until at length he became
the steady, sober watch-dog and ever constant and
faithful companion he is now.</p>
<p class='c001'>As I look at my old favourite stretched out on the
hearthrug at my feet in a way peculiar to chows,
I realize that we ran a great risk of getting ourselves
disliked in those days. It is of no use for
him to pretend he does not understand me, as I
know by the placid smile on his wicked old face
and the sly wink in his sleepy eye that he does so
perfectly.</p>
<p class='c001'>But I often wonder if dogs have any memories of
the past, and if Chang sometimes thinks, as I so
often do, of those happy, far-off days in fair Japonica.</p>
<div class='figcenter id018'>
<img src='images/i_b176.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' />
</div>
<hr class='c025' />
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center'>
<div>WELLS GARDNER, DARTON AND CO., LTD., LONDON</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class='pbb'>
<hr class='pb c000' />
</div>
<p class='c001'><a id='endnote'></a></p>
<div class='tnotes'>
<div class='nf-center-c0'>
<div class='nf-center'>
<div><span class='large'>Transcriber’s Note</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<p class='c001'>There was only one error detected during the preparation
of this text, which has been corrected, and is noted here.
The reference is to the page and line in the original.</p>
<table class='table3' summary=''>
<colgroup>
<col width='12%' />
<col width='69%' />
<col width='18%' />
</colgroup>
<tr>
<td class='c026'><a id='c_110.1'></a><a href='#corr110.1'>110.1</a></td>
<td class='c026'>of those statuesque faces[.]</td>
<td class='c027'>Added.</td>
</tr>
</table>
</div>
<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 54591 ***</div>
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