Part 1

Chapter 13,180 wordsPublic domain

NOTES IN JAPAN

BY ALFRED PARSONS

_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR_

NEW YORK HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 1896

_All rights reserved._

CONTENTS

PAGE

THE JAPANESE SPRING 3

EARLY SUMMER IN JAPAN 45

THE TIME OF THE LOTUS 81

FUJISAN 119

SOME WANDERINGS IN JAPAN 153

AUTUMN IN JAPAN 193

ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

IN KASUGA PARK, NARA--AN OLD CRYPTOMERIA _Frontispiece_

DEDICATION vii

CHERRY-BLOSSOM BADGE, YOSHINO 2

IN THE INLAND SEA 4

HILLS NEAR KŌBE, FROM SUWA-YAMA 5

EARLY PLUM BLOSSOMS, OKAMOTO, NEAR KŌBE 7

THE TORII OF KASUGA TEMPLE, NARA 11

OLD WISTARIA IN KASUGA PARK, NARA 13

THE PAGODA OF KOBŪKUJI, NARA 14

CHERRY-TREE AND LANTERNS, NI-GWATSU-DŌ, NARA 15

THE WELL OF SANKATCHU, NARA 17

CHERRY BLOSSOMS IN THE RAIN, NARA 19

SARA-HIKI-SAKA, NEAR YOSHINO--LATER CHERRIES 21

CHERRY AND LATE PLUM, TEMA-CHO, NEAR NARA 23

A BUDDHIST TEMPLE AT YOSHINO--DOUBLE-FLOWERED CHERRY AND MAGNOLIA 27

CROSSING THE FERRY AT MUDA, ON THE YOSHINO-GAWA 30

MI KOMORI JINJA, A SHINTO TEMPLE NEAR YOSHINO 31

THE STREET, HASE 34

ANDROMEDA BUSHES IN KASUGA PARK, NARA 35

WHITE WISTARIA, HASE-DERA 37

A TALL WISTARIA, KASUGA PARK, NARA 39

NOTES AT MUDA 41

BADGE OF THE KIKU-SUI-YA 42

IRIS JAPONICA 44

CARRYING HOME TEA LEAVES, NEAR UJI 46

A PLANTATION COVERED WITH MATTING NEAR UJI 47

POND IN THE GARDEN OF RAKU-RAKU-TEI, HIKONE 49

THE CASTLE AT HIKONE 51

THE CASTLE AT NAGOYA, FIELD OF IRIS IN THE FOREGROUND 52

AN OLD CASTLE MOAT, AKASHI, NEAR KŌBE 53

FIELDS NEAR LAKE BIWA 55

O KAZU SAN 57

PREPARING THE RICE-FIELDS 59

MY ROOMS AT TENNENJI 60

BUDDHA AND HIS DISCIPLES, TENNENJI 61

HIKONE AND LAKE BIWA, FROM THE HILLS BEHIND TENNENJI 64

AZALEAS ON THE ROCKS, TENNENJI 65

THE POEM 67

WHITE AZALEA BUSH, RAKU-RAKU-TEI, HIKONE 69

THE BAMBOO GROVE, TENNENJI 71

SUNSET OVER LAKE BIWA, FROM TENNENJI 75

PLANTING RICE 77

A SPRING FLOWER--JIRO-BO 78

PLATYCODON GRANDIFLORUM, “KIKYO” 80

AURATUM LILIES AND BOCCONIA ON THE HILLS NEAR NIKKO 82

A FIELD OF LILIES, OFUNA, NEAR KAMAKURA 83

SEVEN BEAUTIFUL FLOWERS OF LATE SUMMER 85

HYDRANGEA BUSH, TOTSUKA, NEAR YOKOHAMA 87

UNDER THE CRYPTOMERIAS AT NIKKO 89

A LITTLE TEMPLE AT NIKKO 91

KIRIFURI, NEAR NIKKO 93

THE MOOR NEAR YUMOTO 94

A WET DAY AT CHŪZENJI 95

THE FOOT OF NANTAI-ZAN 97

THE MOAT OF BENTEN-SHIBA 99

SPECTATORS 104

THE LAST TEA LEAVES--COTTAGE NEAR YOKOHAMA 105

LOTUS-PONDS AT KAMAKURA 107

LOTUS-PATCH AMONG THE RICE-FIELDS, KAWASAKI, TŌKYŌ 109

A TEA-HOUSE AT KAMAKURA 110

YORITOMO’S WILLOWS AND HIS SHRINE 111

JAPANESE WRESTLERS 113

LESPEDEZA “HAGI” 115

THE HEART-LEAVED LILY 116

CAMPANULAS ON FUJI 118

GOING UP IN THE MIST 121

A CLOUDY EVENING, FROM THE SANDS OF TAGO-NO-URA 123

FUJI FROM THE ABEKAWA, AND THE TOKAIDO BRIDGE 124

ON THE NORTHERN SLOPE OF FUJI--GRASS-CUTTERS RETURNING 126

THE SECOND SHELTER IN THE GOTAMBA PATH 128

FUJI WITH ITS CAP ON 130

FUJI FROM THE KAWAGUCHI LAKE 131

FROM THE TOP OF FUJI, LOOKING NORTH 133

THE GREAT PALM AT RYUGEJI, FUJI IN THE DISTANCE 135

THE CRATER OF FUJI 136

AN OLD RED PINE AT YOSHIDA 139

NAKA-NO-CHAYA, ON THE NORTHERN SLOPE 143

THE RED-PINE GROVE AT YOSHIDA 145

FUJI OVER THE RICE-FIELDS OF SUZUKAWA 146

THE FLOWERY MOORLAND 147

TAIL-PIECE 150

TRICYRTIS HIRTA, ATAMI 152

TAGO-NO-URA 155

COTTAGES AT NEMBA 156

LAKE SUWA AND THE NAKASENDO MOUNTAINS, FROM KAMI-NO-SUWA 159

TOURISTS AT A WATERFALL 163

NIEGAWA, ON THE NAKASENDO 165

A LITTLE SHINTO SHRINE, NEAR THE NAKASENDO 166

A BOAT-MENDER BY THE TENRYUGAWA 167

BANANA-TREES AT ATAMI 171

THE FERRY AT TOKIMATA 173

ON THE TENRYUGAWA 174

THE VILLAGE STREET, ATAMI--VRIES ISLAND IN THE DISTANCE 175

ON THE TENRYUGAWA, NEAR KAJIMA 177

AUTUMN-GRASS (SUZUKI) 179

A RUSTIC BRIDGE AT DOGASHIMA, NEAR MIYA-NO-SHITA 183

AVENUES OF TORII IN FRONT OF AN INARI TEMPLE, NEAR SHIMIZU 185

JIZŌ SAMA, NEAR HAKONE 187

TAIL-PIECE 190

THE AUTUMN LILY 192

FIELDS NEAR HAMAMATSU 194

THE EDGE OF THE TOKAIDO, NEAR HAMAMATSU 195

THE ISLAND OF AWAJI, FROM MAIKO 198

ON THE SHORE NEAR MAIKO, THE STRAIT OF AKASHI TO THE RIGHT 199

LILIES BY THE SHORE, SUMA 200

A GRAVEYARD AT SUMA 201

HILLS BEHIND KŌBE 202

A BAMBOO-YARD AT MAIBARA 203

BLUE WATER-WEED 204

THE TRAVELLING THEATRE AT MAIBARA 205

LAUNCHING A BOAT 208

LAKE BIWA WITH FLOODED RICE-FIELDS, NEAR MAIBARA 209

ONE OF THE “YAMA” AT THE NAGAHAMA MATSURI 213

SOME HATS AT THE NAGAHAMA MATSURI 214

THE TEMPLE GARDEN, SEIGWANJI 215

MINIATURE PAGODA IN THE TEMPLE GARDEN, SEIGWANJI 217

A CHRYSANTHEMUM SHOW AT YOKOHAMA 219

THE ARSENAL GARDEN, KOISHIKAWA, TŌKYŌ 223

TAIL-PIECE 225

LYCHNIS GRANDIFLORA, MISAKA-TOGE 226

THE JAPANESE SPRING

We had left Hong-Kong enveloped in its usual spring fog, and for five long, weary days had steamed across the China Sea in regular monsoon weather, gray and wet and miserable, but during the fifth some rocky islands, outlying sentinels of the three thousand which compose the Mikado’s realm, and occasional square-sailed, high-sterned boats, showed that we were near Japan, the Far East, the Land of Flowers and of the Rising Sun, the country which for years it had been my dream to see and paint; and by six o’clock in the evening, on the 9th of March, we were at anchor in Nagasaki Bay. The aspect of that port on a wet day was not inviting, nor were the little grimy girls, who in a chattering, laughing line carried their baskets of coal on board; so, difficult as it was to decline the hospitable invitations of the English residents, I decided to go on with the ship to Kōbe. Early in the morning of the 11th we passed through the Strait of Shimonoseki--the sun shining brightly on the snowy hills and on the crowd of fishing-boats which had been sheltering there from the bad weather--and entered the Inland Sea. After so many days of monotonous gray ocean it was delightful to steam along in sight of land, and wind about among the islets and rocks, so near to many of them that we could see the little villages, the mists of white plum blossoms, the rows of beans and barley growing wherever a level patch could be made on the steep slopes, the people at work in their

fields, and always in the distance the ranges of snow-covered mountains in Kiushiu and Shikoku, the islands which enclose this lovely sea on the south. I longed to land and begin work at once, with a nervous dread in my heart that I should find nothing so good elsewhere, and, indeed, though there is plenty of material to be found everywhere in Japan, I saw nothing finer than these islands of the Inland Sea; to cruise about among them in a comfortable boat would be an ideal way to spend a summer, and would probably not be devoid of adventure, for our captain told me many tales of treacherous currents and sudden squalls and sunken reefs.

We reached Kōbe next morning, and before I had been on shore more than an hour I had heard of a village six miles away which was celebrated for its plum orchards, and had started off to find it. Okamoto lies at the foot of the hills which rise behind Kōbe on the north, and climbs a little way up them, and in front of the highest cottage, a modest tea-house with platforms arranged to accommodate the visitors who come in crowds to gaze at the blossoms, I unfolded my stool and easel, and in spite of a bitter wind and vicious little snow-storms made my first sketch in Japan. All round me and in the village below were the pink-and-white trees, then a band of rice-lands, pale green with young barley, and beyond them lay Osaka Bay, and the mountains of Yamato, which constantly changed in color as snow-storms passed over, or gleams of sun lighted the shining water and the snow on the distant hills. It is an exciting thing to begin work in a new country, to compare the local color and the atmosphere with those you have tried before, and to find yourself half unconsciously using an entirely new set of pigments. I was too absorbed with these problems to take any notice of the fact that my back was aching, but after two hours, when I had finished my drawing, I found myself unable to rise from that sketching-stool, and for the next fortnight an attack of lumbago prevented my seeing anything more of the plum groves. The Buddhist pictures of their Inferno depict many ingenious tortures; I think they ought to add a man with lumbago doing six miles over a Japanese by-road in a jinricksha. When at last I got back to Okamoto there were still some blossoms, and the trees were tinged with the pink of withered petals, but the luxuriant freshness had gone.

On the 13th of April I said good-bye to my friends and to the comforts of the Kōbe Club, and started for Nara, stopping on my way at Osaka to have a look at the town and see the peach blossoms on Momo-Yama (peach mountain). The narrow streets leading up the hill were crowded with visitors, and among the orchards of dwarf trees temporary tea-sheds and resting-places had been erected for their comfort and refreshment. In spite of the many picturesque features in these fêtes the whole effect is at first disappointing: railings and stages of new raw deal, the untidy and unfinished look of rough bamboo structures, with corners of matting hanging loosely in places where they interfere with the perspective lines, the slovenly pathways,

which are mud or dust according to the weather--all these things make unsatisfactory accessories for the figures and the flowers. After a time they obtrude themselves less on your notice, and you have learned to accept the fact that Japan is not a country of big masses and broad effects, but of interesting bits and amusing details. This is usually true of its landscape; the forms of mountains and trees are more quaint than grand, and the cultivated land has no broad stretches of pasture or corn, but is cut up into patches, mainly rice-fields, with various vegetables grown in little squares here and there.

It was as yet too early in the year for any rice to be planted out. In the fertile valley through which the railway runs from Osaka to Nara some new fields were lying wet or fallow, others were being prepared by spade labor, and others again, not yet flooded, were covered with the bright green of young barley, or the strong light yellow of rape in flower.

Though I had read much about life in Japan, it was an embarrassing experience to be set down for the first time with my baggage in a Japanese room, and to try and adapt myself mentally to the possibilities of living under such conditions. In a bare hut or tent the problem is comparatively simple; there is always one way by which you must enter; but in a Japanese room there is too much liberty; three of the walls are opaque sliding screens, the fourth is a transparent, or rather translucent, one; you can come in or go out where you like; there is no table on which things must be put, no chair on which you must sit, no fireplace to stand with your back to--just a clean, matted floor and perfect freedom of choice. European trunks look hopelessly ugly and unsympathetic in such surroundings, nor are matters much improved when the host, in deference to the habits of a foreigner, sends in a rough deal table, with a cloth of unhemmed cotton, intended to be white, and an uncompromising, straight-backed deal chair. These hideous articles make a man feel ashamed, for though they are only a burlesque of our civilization, they are produced with an air of pride which shows that the owner is convinced they are the right thing, and one cannot but be humiliated by their ugliness and want of comfort. Yet if you want to read or write you have to keep them and make the best of them, for a long evening on the floor is only to be borne after a good many weeks of practice. Things begin to look brighter and pleasanter when the little waiting-maid appears, bringing first some cushions and the hibachi, with its pile of glowing charcoal, and then the tea-tray and a few sweet cakes. This was more the sort of thing I had expected, and made me at once feel at home with my surroundings. It is the first attention shown you in every tea-house, no matter how humble; whether you go as an inmate, or whether you merely sit down for a few minutes’ rest on a journey, the little tea-pot and the tiny cups are at once produced, and the hibachi is placed by your side, a pleasant and friendly welcome, which never failed to make its impression on me, however poor the quality of the tea might be. The Kiku-sui-ya (which means Chrysanthemum-water house) is near the entrance to the great Kasuga Park at Nara; just outside it the road passes under a granite torii flanked with stone lanterns, and winds up to the temple through an avenue of cryptomerias, with rows of lanterns on each side, which get closer and closer together as they near the temple buildings, and are so numerous that tradition says they have never been counted. There are booths here and there where pilgrims can rest and get a cup of tea, for pilgrimage in Japan is not made unnecessarily uncomfortable, and where the tame deer congregate to take the nuts and cakes which are sold

for them to the passers-by. From early morning till nearly sundown this road is lively with groups of visitors. Nara is so near to Osaka that among them a sprinkling of men, mostly no doubt engaged in commerce, wore foreign dress, but the majority of the people were in their native clothes, and as I sat and painted by the road-side I could study the variations of Japanese costume--from that of the old peasant with his white or blue

leggings, straw shoes, big hat, and robe tucked into his girdle, his head shaved down the middle, and the back hair turned up in a queue in the ancient mode, to that of the gay young musumé with her rich silk kimono, gorgeous scarlet petticoat, broad obi, and black-lacquered sandals on her pigeon-toed, white-socked feet. The cryptomerias are good, but the old wistarias are the glory of Kasuga Park. The great Fujiwara family formerly owned or were patrons of the temple, and though it is now imperial property, their crest, the wistaria flower (_fuji no hana_), is still worn by the little girls who perform the sacred dance there, and all over the park the wistaria vines are allowed to grow as they choose, their great snaky stems writhing along the ground and twisting up to the tops of the highest trees.

One very wet day, when painting out-of-doors was impossible, I went round to see the sights of Nara--Kobūkuji with its pagoda and fine old statues, the great Buddha, the celebrated big bell, and beyond these the Buddhist temple Ni-gwatsu-dō, perched on a hill-side, the steps leading up to it lined with stone lanterns, little shrines, and booths for the sale of endless trifles. The platform surrounding this temple is supported in front by a scaffolding of beams, at the back it abuts against the hill, and from the heavy projecting roof which covers both platform and temple hang hundreds of bronze lanterns, votive offerings. Each of these had been appropriated by a sparrow; trusting to the sanctity of the spot, they had piled in all the rubbish they could find to make their nests; odd ends of straw and paper stuck out everywhere, showing that their stay in the East had not taught them tidy habits. I am sorry to say that their confidence was misplaced; a temple festival came round before their eggs were hatched, and the whole of them with their embryo families were ruthlessly evicted in order that the lanterns might be lighted.

The park at Nara is one of the few places in Japan where you can see real turf, and even there I was struck by the scarcity of ground flowers; there were plenty of scentless violets, some yellow and white dandelions, and in the damp ditches a little purple flower called jirobo by the country people, but there was nothing to compare with the masses of daisies, buttercups, and cowslips which make the English meadows so bright in the spring. Perhaps the mountain moorlands would have been as gay at that time as I found them later in the year; the fields are far too well cultivated for any weed to get a chance of flowering.

The earlier cherry-trees were in blossom by this time, and I lingered on, making studies of them, and learning Japanese words and ways from O Nao San, a young lady about twelve years old, who had appointed herself my special attendant and protector at the Kiku-sui Hotel. One night at the theatre I saw a modern farce, with a policeman, an old-fashioned Japanese gentleman, a Chinaman, and an Englishman as the comic characters. They were ridiculous and amusing, but when all the earlier incidents of the piece were narrated with conscientious realism in evidence before a magistrate the thing became monotonous, and struck me as faulty in dramatic construction. This was the only theatre I saw in Japan in which they had discarded the orchestra and chorus and other traditions of the old stage.

There is a modest little temple opposite Kobūkuji, which is visited by most of the pilgrims to Nara; in its court-yard is a pile of stones from which a stream of water flows, fed by the tears of the mother of Sankatchu, a sacrilegious man who killed some of the sacred deer, who was killed himself in consequence, and buried here by her. Day after day groups of visitors stand by the fountain, listening intently to the guide who tells them the pathetic story, and give their prayers and a few coppers to her memory. The family affections are strong in Japan, and the love between parents and children, and among the children themselves, is always pleasant to see. The little ones are never slapped or shaken or pulled about roughly; you may wander through the streets for days without hearing a child cry, nor do they often quarrel in their play. But it is possible to go too far, even in filial piety. There was a murder trial while I was in the country, and by the evidence it appeared that the prisoner’s mother was blind, that the doctor had prescribed the application of a warm human liver, and that he, as he could find no other way to get the remedy, had killed his wife in order to restore his mother’s sight.