An Ohio Woman in the Philippines / Giving personal experiences and descriptions including / incidents of Honolulu, ports in Japan and China

Chapter Four.

Tokio, the capital, with a population almost equal to New York, looks like a caricature, a miniature cast such as one sees of the Holy Land. The earliest mention of the use of checks in Europe is in the latter part of the seventeenth century. The Japanese had already been using them for forty years; they had also introduced the strengthening features of requiring them to be certified.

Visiting the Rice Exchange in Tokio during a year of famine, when subject to wide and sudden fluctuations, it was easy to imagine one’s self in the New York Stock Exchange, on the occasion of a flurry in Wall Street. There was the same seeming madness intensified by the guttural sounds of the language, and the brokers were not a whit more intelligible than a like mob in any other city. I said to the interpreter: “You Japanese have succeeded in copying every feature of the New York Stock Exchange.” “New York!” he exclaimed, “why, this very thing has been going on here in Japan these two hundred years!”

The palace is a long, low building, unattractive in itself, but its gardens with every beautiful device of native art, fountains, bridges, shrines, fantastically trimmed trees, flowers, winding ways, are amazingly artistic.

The Lord High Chamberlain has ordered every civil officer to appear at court ceremonies in European dress. It seems such a pity, for they are not of the style or carriage to adopt court costumes. One government official wanted to be so very correct that he wore his dress suit to business. So anxious are they to be thought civilized. There is nothing that hurts a gentleman’s feelings in Japan more than to hear one say, “They have such a beautiful country and when they are converted from heathenism it will be ideal.” There is a strong Episcopal church and college in the capital.

I am not at all prepared to judge the Japanese creeds or modes of worship. But one may infer something of what people are taught, from their character and conduct. The children honor their parents; the women seem obedient to their husbands and masters; and the men are imbued with the love of country.

The prevailing religion of Japan is Shintoism, and through the kindness of Rev. B. T. Sakai, I will give a bit of his experience. He wished to acquire a better knowledge of English and found that Trinity College in Tokio could give him the best instruction. He went to this institution, pledged that he would not, on any account, become a Christian, and assisted in the persecution of his fellow students, who were becoming convinced of the truth of Christianity. During the extreme cold weather, the institution was badly in need of warmer rooms. Several of the students met and decided to make an appeal to the Bishop. They went to him, three Japanese boys who were converted and two who were not, and told him in very plain language that they would not endure the cold in their rooms any longer. The Bishop listened attentively and finally said, “Well, young men, you are perfectly right, and I have a very good solution of the difficulty. I am an old man and cannot live many years, so I will give you my warm room and I will take the cold one.” He told me that was something new to him, that a person of his years and standing should be willing to make so great a sacrifice. He said that he could not keep the tears from running down his cheeks, and on no account would any of these boys accept the Bishop’s proposal; he gave them a new idea of Christian charity.

KOBE AND NAGASAKI.

From Nikko we returned to Yokohama and thence by steamer to Kobe. The U. S. Consul, General M. Lyon, and his wife met me. They gave me the first particulars of the wreck of the Morgan City. Nothing could exceed their kindness during the two days of my stay there. Their familiarity with the language, the people, and the shops was a great help to me. And when we returned home, I found the little son of my hosts the most interesting object of all. Born in Kobe, cared for by a native nurse, an ama, as they are called, he spoke no English, only Japanese. He was a beautiful child, fair, golden haired, blue eyed, and sweet of temper.

The garden of the U.S. Consul at Kobe was a marvel of beauty. There was a rumor that the United States government might purchase it. I hope so, because it is in a part of the city which has a commanding view of the bay, and it is such a joy to see our beautiful flag floating from the staff in front of the consulate. No one appreciates the meaning of “Our Flag” until one sees it in foreign countries.

I visited the famous Buddhist Temple of Kobe; it was placed in a garden and there were hundreds of poor, sore eyed, sickly, dirty Japanese people around, and it gave one the impression that this temple might have been used for other purposes than worship. In all the temples that I visited, I never saw, except in one, anything that approached worship, and that was in the Sacred Temple of the White Horse, Nagasaki, and an American who had lived there for eight years said that I must be mistaken for she had never heard of any such doings as I saw. There seemed to be about a dozen priests who were carrying hot water which they dipped out of a boiling caldron and were sprinkling it about in the temple with curious intonations and chantings. They ran back and forth, swishing the water about in a very promiscuous manner. I stood at a respectful distance fearing to get some of the hot fluid on myself. Meanwhile the White Horse stood in the yard well groomed and cared for, little knowing what they were doing in his honor. I could not hear of a single place where their poor or sick and afflicted were cared for. They may have asylums and hospitals, but I never heard of any.

Nagasaki is beautiful for situation. A river-like inlet, reminding one of the Hudson river, leads into the broad lake-like harbor. Eight or ten of our transports lay at anchor and still there was abundant room for the liners and for the little craft plying between this and the small ports.

Oura at Nagasaki.

The dock is famous; all our ships in the east put in here for repairs if possible.

The high hills circle about the town and bay; they are highly cultivated and dotted with the peculiar Japanese house. The native house of but one story, is not more than twelve or fourteen feet square, and is divided into rooms only by paper screens that may be removed at will. The people live out of doors as much as possible, or in their arbors. In cold weather a charcoal brazier is set in the center of the house. At night each Jap rolls himself in a thickly padded mat and lies on the floor with his feet to this “stove.”

A party was made up to visit the Concert Hall of the celebrated Geisha girls. General and Mrs. Greenleaf and many officers and their wives from the transports were of the number. They kindly invited me to join them. A sum total of about fifteen dollars is charged for the entertainment; each one bears his share of the cost. It was a rainy evening, rickshaws were in order. About thirty drew up before the Nagasaki Hotel. It was a sight! the funny little carriages, man before to pull, man behind to push, gaily colored lantern fore and aft and amused Americans in the middle, laughing, singing, and enjoying the fun, a strange contrast to the stolid native.

The long line of carriages wound in and out like a snake with shining scales. The night was so dark that little was to be seen except the firefly lights and the bare tawny legs of the rickshaw men.

It has been said that the Japanese are the soul of music. I am sure that no ears are cultivated to endure it. As we entered the rooms we were obliged to remove our shoes and put on sandals. Instead of sitting down on chairs we took any position we could on the floor mats that were placed at our disposal. At the first sound from the throat of a famous singer in a staccato “E-E-E-E,” we all sprang to our feet thinking she was possibly going into some sort of a fit. With a twang on the strings of the flattened out little instrument, we subsided, concluding that the concert had begun. Then when the others joined in, the mingled sounds were not unlike the wail of cats on the back fence. The girls themselves looked pretty, in kneeling posture, lips painted bright red, hair prettily braided and adorned with artificial flowers or bits of jewelry. If they had been quiet they would have looked like beautiful Japanese dolls seated on the floor. After several “catterwaulings” by the choir, came the dances. It was all a series of physical culture movements; the music was rendered in most perfect rhythm by two of the girls, it was the poetry of motion. They would take pieces of silk and make little bouquets, whirlwinds, and divers things; the most beautiful of all was a cascade of water. It was hard for us to believe it was not actually a waterfall. It was made of unfolding yards of white silk of the most sheer and gauzy kind. From a thin package six inches square, there shimmered out a thousand yards—a veritable cascade of gleaming water. We were treated to refreshments, impossible cakes and tea. We were thankful that we sat near an open window that we might throw the cake over our shoulder, trusting some forlorn little Japanese who liked it might get it.

Japanese Musicians.

The tea is finely powdered dust; the tea maker is supposed to measure exactly the capacity of the drinker and to take enough of this finely powdered tea to make three and one-half mouthfuls exactly. They do it by taking a rare bit of porcelain and holding it in their hands, turn it about and talk learnedly of the various, wonderful arts of pottery and how many years they have had this certain piece of fine porcelain, turning it about in the meantime in their hands as they comment on its beauties and qualities, and then take three large swallows of the tea and one small sip and then go on talking about the wonders of the cup. These cups are anything but what we should call tea cups. They are really large bowls, sometimes with a cover but more often without. But it is refreshing to drink their tea even if one cannot do it À la Jap. Everywhere in Japan you are asked to take a cup of tea, in the steam cars, in the shops and by the wayside. A Japanese told me that he could tell whether a person was educated or not by the manner in which he drank tea. They take lessons in tea drinking as we do in any accomplishment we wish to acquire. One friend could not resist buying tea pots and pretty cups; she had a grand collection after one day of sight-seeing.

Their potteries are not like ours, huge factories, but household things. Here and there in a family is an artist who can make a bit of porcelain, a few cups, plates, or saucers stamped with his own individual mark. The quality varies, of course, with the skill of the maker, but the poorest work is beautiful; and one develops an insatiate greed to possess this and this and just one more.

ToriÏ.

The ancient Imari, Satsuma, and the old bits of pottery that have been kept in the older families for centuries are, to my mind, the most wonderful works of art of the kind in the world; they look with pride on the articles of virtu as almost sacred.

Ornament.

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