It was only to escape from one terror to another that I fled Myanos.h.i.ta.
A blue-breeched dwarf thrust me into a dwarf "rickshaw on spidery wheels, and down the rough road that we had taken four hours to climb ran me clamorously in half an hour. Take all the parapets off the Simla Road and leave it alone for ten years. Then run down the steepest four miles of any section,--not steeper than the drop to the old Gaiety Theatre,--behind one man!
"We couldn"t get six hill-men to take us in this style," shouted the Professor as he spun by, his wheels kicking like a duck"s foot, and the whole contraption at an angle of thirty. I am proud to think that not even sixty hill-men would have gambolled with a sahib in that disgraceful manner. Nor would any tramway company in the Real East have run its cars to catch a train that used to start last year, but now--rest its soul--is as dead as Queen Anne. This thing a queer little seven-mile tramway accomplished with much dignity. It owned a first-cla.s.s car and a second-cla.s.s car,--two horses to each,--and it ran them with a hundred yards headway--the one all but empty, and the other half full. When the very small driver could not control his horses, which happened on the average once every two minutes, he did not waste time by pulling them in. He screwed down the brake and laughed--possibly at the company who had paid for the very elaborate car. Yet he was an artistic driver. He wore no Philistine bra.s.s badge. Between the shoulders of his blue jerkin were done in white, three railheads in a circle, and on the skirts as many tram-wheels conventionalised. Only the j.a.panese know how to conventionalise a tram-wheel or make a key-pattern of railheads. Though we took twelve hours to cover the thirty miles that separated us from Yokohama, we admitted this much while we waited for our train in a village by the sea. A village of any size is about three miles long in the main street. Villages with a population of more than ten thousand souls take rank as towns.
"And yet," said a man at Yokohama that night, "you have not seen the densest population. That"s away in the western _kens_--districts, as you call them. The folk really are crowded thereabouts, but virtually poverty does not exist in the country. You see, an agricultural labourer can maintain himself and his family, as far as rice goes, for four cents a day, and the price of fish is nominal. Rice now costs a hundred pounds to the dollar. What do you make it by Indian standards? From twenty to twenty-five seers the rupee. Yes, that"s about it. Well, he gets, perhaps, three dollars and a-half a month. The people spend a good deal in pleasuring. They must enjoy themselves. I don"t think they save much.
How do they invest their savings? In jewellery? No, not exactly; though you"ll find that the women"s hair-pins, which are about the only jewellery they wear, cost a good deal. Seven and eight dollars are paid for a good hair-pin, and of course jade may cost anything. What the women really lock their money up in is in their _obis_--the things you call sashes. An _obi_ is ten or twelve yards long, and I"ve known them sold wholesale for fifty dollars each. Every woman above the poorest cla.s.s has at least one good dress of silk and an _obi_. Yes, all their savings go in dress, and a handsome dress is always worth having. The western _kens_ are the richest taken all round. A skilled mechanic there gets a dollar or dollar and a-half a day, and, as you know, lacquer-workers and inlayers--artists--get two. There"s enough money in j.a.pan for all current expenses. They won"t borrow any for railroads.
They raise it "emselves. Most progressive people the j.a.panese are as regards railways. They make them very cheaply, much more cheaply than any European lines. I"ve some experience, and I take it that two thousand pounds a mile is the average cost of construction. Not on the Tokaido, of course--the line that you came up by. That"s a Government line, State built, and a very expensive one. I"m speaking of the j.a.panese Railway Company with a mileage of three hundred, and the line from Kobe south, and the Kinshin line in the Southern island. There are lots of little companies with a few score miles of line, but all the companies are extending. The reason why the construction is so cheap is the nature of the land. There"s no long haulage of rails, because you can nearly always find a creek running far up into the country, and dump out your rails within a few miles of the place where they are wanted.
Then, again, all your timber lies to your hand, and your staff are j.a.ps.
There are a few European engineers, but they are quite the heads of the departments, and I believe if they were cleared out to-morrow, the j.a.ps would go on building their lines. They know how to make "em pay. One line started on a State guarantee of eight per cent. It hasn"t called for the guarantee yet. It"s making twelve per cent on its own hook.
There"s a very heavy freight traffic in wood and provisions for the big towns, and there"s a local traffic that you can have no idea of unless you"ve watched it. The people seem to move in twenty-mile circles for business or pleasure--"specially pleasure. Oh, I tell you, j.a.pan will be a gridiron of railways before long. In another month or two you"ll be able to travel nearly seven hundred miles on and by the Tokaido line alone from one end to the other, of the central islands. Getting from east to west is harder work. The backbone-hills of the country are just cruel, and it will be some time before the j.a.ps run many lines across.
But they"ll do it, of course. Their country must go forward.
"If you want to know anything about their politics, I"m afraid I can"t help you much. They are, so to speak, drunk with Western liquor, and are sucking it up by the hogshead. In a few years they will see how much of what we call civilisation they really want, and how much they can discard. "Tisn"t as if they had to learn the arts of life or how to make themselves comfortable. They knew all that long ago. When their railway system is completed, and they begin to understand their new Const.i.tution, they will have learned as much as we can teach "em. That"s my opinion; but it needs time to understand this country. I"ve been a matter of eight or ten years in it, and my views aren"t worth much. I"ve come to know some of the old families that used to be of the feudal n.o.bility. They keep themselves to themselves and live very quietly. I don"t think you"ll find many of them in the official cla.s.ses. Their one fault is that they entertain far beyond their means. They won"t receive you informally and take you into their houses. They raise dancing-girls, or take you to their club and have a big feed. They don"t introduce you to their wives, and they haven"t yet given up the rule of making the wife eat after the husband. Like the native of India you say? Well, I am very fond of the j.a.p; but I suppose he _is_ a native any way you look at him. You wouldn"t think that he is careless in his workmanship and dishonest. A Chinaman, on an average, is out and away a bigger rogue than a j.a.p; but he has sense enough to see that honesty is the best policy, and to act by that light. A j.a.p will be dishonest just to save himself trouble. He"s like a child that way."
How many times have I had to record such an opinion as the foregoing?
Everywhere the foreigner says the same thing of the neat-handed, polite little people that live among flowers and babies, and smoke tobacco as mild as their own manners. I am sorry; but when you come to think of it, a race without a flaw would be perfect. And then all the other nations of the earth would rise up and hammer it to pieces. And then there would be no j.a.pan.
"I"ll give you a day to think over things generally," said the Professor. "After that we"ll go to Nikko and Tokio. Who has not seen Nikko does not know how to p.r.o.nounce the world "beautiful.""
Yokohama is not the proper place to arrange impressions in. The Pacific Ocean knocks at your door, asking to be looked at; the j.a.panese and American men-of-war demand serious attention through a telescope; and if you wander about the corridors of the Grand Hotel, you stop to play with Spanish Generals, all gold lace and spurs, or are captured by touts for curio-shops. It is not a nice experience to find a Sahib in a Panama hat handing you the card of his firm for all the world like a Delhi silk-merchant. You are inclined to pity that man, until he sits down, gives you a cigar, and tells you all about his diseases, his past career in California, where he was always making money and always losing it, and his hopes for the future. You see then that you are entering upon a new world. Talk to every one you meet, if they show the least disposition to talk to you, and you will gather, as I have done, a host of stories that will be of use to you hereafter. Unfortunately, they are not all fit for publication. When I tore myself away from the distractions of the outer world, and was just sitting down to write seriously on the Future of j.a.pan, there entered a fascinating man, with heaps of money, who had collected Indian and j.a.panese curios all his life, and was now come to this country to get some old books which his collection lacked. Can you imagine a more pleasant life than his wanderings over the earth, with untold special knowledge to back each signature of his cheque-book?
In five minutes he had carried me far away from the clattering, fidgetty folk around, to a quiet world where men meditated for three weeks over a bronze, and scoured all j.a.pan for a sword-guard designed by a great artist and--were horribly cheated in the end.
"Who is the best artist in j.a.pan now?" I asked.
"He died in Tokio, last Friday, poor fellow, and there is no one to take his place. His name was K----, and as a general rule he could never be persuaded to work unless he was drunk. He did his best pictures when he was drunk."
"_emu._ Artists are never drunk."
"Quite right. I"ll show you a sword-guard that he designed. All the best artists out here do a lot of designing. K---- used to fritter away his time on designs for old friends. Had he stuck to pictures he could have made twice as much. But he never turned out potboilers. When you go to Tokio, make it your business to get two little books of his called _Drunken Sketches_--pictures that he did, when he was--_emu_. There is enough dash and go in them to fill half a dozen studios. An English artist studied under him for some time. But K----"s touch was not communicable, though he might have taught his pupil something about technique. Have you ever come across one of K----"s crows? You could tell it anywhere. He could put all the wicked thoughts that ever came into the mind of a crow--and a crow is first cousin to the Devil--on a piece of paper six inches square, with a brush of Indian ink and two turns of his wrist. Look at the sword-guard I spoke of. How is that for feeling?"
On a circular piece of iron four inches in diameter and pierced by the pole for the tang of the blade, poor K----, who died last Friday, had sketched the figure of a coolie trying to fold up a cloth which was bellying to a merry breeze--not a cold wind, but a sportive summer gust.
The coolie was enjoying the performance, and so was the cloth. It would all be folded up in another minute and the coolie would go on his way with a grin.
This thing had K---- conceived, and the faithful workman executed, with the lightest touches of the graver, to the end that it might lie in a collector"s cabinet in London.
"Wah! Wah!" I said, and returned it reverently. "It would kill a man who could do that to live after his touch had gone. Well for him he died--but I wish I had seen him. Show me some more."
"I"ve got a painting by Hokusai--the great artist who lived at the end of the last century and the beginning of this. Even _you_ have heard of Hokusai, haven"t you?"
"A little. I have heard it was impossible to get a genuine painting with his signature attached."
"That"s true; but I"ve shown this one to the j.a.panese Government expert in pictures--the man the Mikado consults in cases of doubt--to the first European authority on j.a.panese art, and of course I have my own opinion to back the signed guarantee of the seller. Look!"
He unrolled a silk-scroll and showed me the figure of a girl in pale blue and grey crepe, carrying in her arms a bundle of clothes that, as the tub behind her showed, had just been washed. A dark-blue handkerchief was thrown lightly over the left forearm, shoulder, and neck, ready to tie up the clothes when the bundle should be put down.
The flesh of the right arm showed through the thin drapery of the sleeve. The right hand merely steadied the bundle from above; the left gripped it firmly from below. Through the stiff blue-black hair showed the outline of the left ear.
That there was enormous elaboration in the picture, from the ornamentation of the hair-pins to the graining of the clogs, did not strike me till after the first five minutes, when I had sufficiently admired the certainty of touch.
"Recollect there is no room for error in painting on silk," said the proud possessor. "The line must stand under any circ.u.mstances. All that is possible before painting is a little dotting with charcoal, which is rubbed off with a feather-brush. Did he know anything about drapery or colour or the shape of a woman? Is there any one who could teach him more if he were alive to-day?"
Then we went to Nikko.
No. XIX
THE LEGEND OF NIKKO FORD AND THE STORY OF THE AVOIDANCE OF MISFORTUNE.
A rose-red city, half as old as Time.
Five hours in the train took us to the beginning of a "rickshaw journey of twenty-five miles. The guide unearthed an aged cart on j.a.panese lines, and seduced us into it by promises of speed and comfort beyond anything that a "rickshaw could offer. Never go to Nikko in a cart. The town of departure is full of pack-ponies who are not used to it, and every third animal tries to get a kick at his friends in the shafts.
This renders progress sufficiently exciting till the b.u.mpsomeness of the road quenches all emotions save one. Nikko is reached through one avenue of _cryptomerias_--cypress-like trees eighty feet high, with red or dull silver trunks and hea.r.s.e-plume foliage of darkest green. When I say one avenue, I mean one continuous avenue twenty-five miles long, the trees so close to each other throughout that their roots interlace and form a wall of wood on either side of the sunken road. Where it was necessary to make a village along the line of march,--that is to say once every two or three miles,--a few of the giants had been wrenched out--as teeth are wrenched from a full-planted jaw--to make room for the houses. Then the trees closed up as before to mount guard over the road. The banks between which we drove were alight with azaleas, camelias, and violets.
"Glorious! Stupendous! Magnificent!" sang the Professor and I in chorus for the first five miles, in the intervals of the b.u.mps. The avenue took not the least notice of our praise except by growing the trees even more closely together. "Vistas of pillared shade" are very pleasant to read about, but on a cold day the ungrateful heart of man could cheerfully dispense with a mile or two of it if that would shorten the journey. We were blind to the beauty around; to the files of pack-ponies with manes like hearth-brooms and the tempers of Eblis kicking about the path; to the pilgrims with blue and white handkerchiefs on their heads, enviable silver-grey leggings on their feet, and Buddha-like babies on their backs; to the trim country drays pulled by miniature cart-horses bringing down copper from the mines and _saki_ from the hills; to the colour and movement in the villages where all the little children shouted "Ohio"s!" and all the old people laughed. The grey tree-trunks marched us solemnly along over that horrid bad road which had been mended with brushwood, and after five hours we got Nikko in the shape of a long village at the foot of a hill, and capricious Nature, to reward us for our sore bones, laughed on the instant in floods of sunshine. And upon what a mad scene did the light fall! The _cryptomerias_ rose in front of us a wall of green darkness, a tearing torrent ran deep-green over blue boulders, and between stream and trees was thrown a blood-red bridge--the sacred bridge of red lacquer that no foot save the Mikado"s may press.
Very cunning artists are the j.a.panese. Long ago a great-hearted king came to Nikko River and looked across at the trees, up-stream at the torrent and the hills whence it came, and down-stream at the softer outlines of the crops and spurs of wooded mountains. "It needs only a dash of colour in the foreground to bring this all together," said he, and he put a little child in a blue and white dressing-gown under the awful trees to judge the effect. Emboldened by his tenderness, an aged beggar ventured to ask for alms. Now it was the ancient privilege of the great to try the temper of their blades upon beggars and such cattle.
Mechanically the king swept off the old man"s head, for he did not wish to be disturbed. The blood spurted across the granite slabs of the river-ford in a sheet of purest vermilion. The king smiled. Chance had solved the problem for him. "Build a bridge here," he said to the court carpenter, "of just such a colour as that stuff on the stones. Build also a bridge of grey stone close by, for I would not forget the wants of my people." So he gave the little child across the stream a thousand pieces of gold and went his way. He had composed a landscape. As for the blood, they wiped it up and said no more about it; and that is the story of Nikko Bridge. You will not find it in the guide-books.
I followed the voice of the river through a rickety toy-village, across some rough bottom-land, till, crossing a bridge, I found myself among lichened stones, scrub, and the blossoms of spring. A hillside, steep and wooded as the flanks of the red Aravallis, rose on my left; on my right, the eye travelled from village to cropland, crop to towering cypress, and rested at last on the cold blue of an austere hill-top encircled by streaks of yet unmelted snow. The Nikko hotel stood at the foot of this hill; and the time of the year was May. Then a sparrow came by with a piece of gra.s.s in her beak, for she was building her nest; and I knew that the spring was come to Nikko. One is so apt to forget the changes of the year over there with you in India.
Sitting in a solemn line on the banks of the river were fifty or sixty cross-legged images which the untrained eye put down immediately as so many small Buddhas. They had all, even when the lichen had cloaked them with leprosy, the calm port and unwinking regard of the Lord of the World. They are not Buddhas really, but other things--presents from forgotten great men to dead and gone inst.i.tutions, or else memorials of ancestors. The guide-book will tell you. They were a ghostly crew. As I examined them more closely I saw that each differed from the other. Many of them held in their joined arms a little store of river pebbles, evidently put there by the pious. When I inquired the meaning of the gift from a stranger who pa.s.sed, he said: "Those so distinguished are images of the G.o.d who Plays with Little Children up in the Sky. He tells them stories and builds them houses of pebbles. The stones are put in his arms either that he may not forget to amuse the babies or to prevent his stock running low."
I have no means of telling whether the stranger spoke the truth, but I prefer to believe that tale as gospel truth. Only the j.a.panese could invent the G.o.d who Plays with Little Children. Thereafter the images took a new aspect in my eyes and were no longer "Graeco-Buddhist sculptures," but personal friends. I added a great heap of pebbles to the stock of the cheeriest among them. His bosom was ornamented with small printed slips of prayers which gave him the appearance of a disreputable old parson with his bands in disorder. A little further up the bank of the river was a rough, solitary rock hewn with what men called a Shinto shrine. I knew better: the thing was Hindu, and I looked at the smooth stones on every side for the familiar dab of red paint. On a flat rock overhanging the water were carved certain characters in Sanscrit, remotely resembling those on a Thibetan prayer-wheel. Not comprehending these matters, and grateful that I had brought no guide-book with me, I clambered down to the lip of the river--now compressed into a raging torrent. Do you know the Strid near Bolton--that spot where the full force of the river is pent up in two yards" breadth? The Nikko Strid is an improvement upon the Yorkshire one. The blue rocks are hollowed like soapstone by the rush of the water. They rise above head-level and in spring are tufted with azalea blossom. The stranger of the G.o.dlings came up behind me as I basked on a boulder. He pointed up the little gorge of rocks, "Now if I painted that as it stands, every critic in the papers would say I was a liar."
The mad stream came down directly from a blue hill blotched with pink, through a sky-blue gorge also pink-blotched. An obviously impossible pine mounted guard over the water. I would give much to see an accurate representation of that view. The stranger departed growling over some hidden grief--connected with the Academy perhaps.
Hounded on by the Professor, the guide sought me by banks of the river and bade me "come and see temples." Then I fairly and squarely cursed all temples, being stretched at my ease on some warm sand in the hollow of a rock, and ignorant as the gra.s.s-shod cattle that tramped the further bank. "Very fine temples," said the guide, "you come and see. By and by temple be shut up because priests make half an hour more time."
Nikko time is half an hour ahead of the standard, because the priests of the temples have discovered that travellers arriving at three p.m. try to do all the temples before four--the official-hour of closing. This defrauds the church of her dues, so her servants put the clock on, and Nikko, knowing naught of the value of time, is well content.
When I cursed the temples I did a foolish thing, and one for which this poor pen can never make fitting reparation. We went up a hill by way of a flight of grey stone slabs. The _cryptomerias_ of the Nikko road were as children to the giants that overshadowed us here. Between their iron-grey boles were flashes of red--the blood-red of the Mikado"s bridge. That great king who killed the beggar at the ford had been well pleased with the success of his experiment. Pa.s.sing under a mighty stone arch we came into a square of splendour alive with the sound of hammers.
Thirty or forty men were tapping the pillars and steps of a carnelian shrine heavy with gold. "That," said the guide, impa.s.sively, "is a G.o.down. They are renewing the lacquer. First they extract it."
Have you ever "extracted" lacquer from wood? I smote the foot of a pillar with force, and after half a dozen blows chipped off one small fragment of the stuff, in texture like red horn. Betraying no surprise, I demanded the name of a yet more magnificent shrine across the courtyard. It was red lacquered like the others, but above its main door were carved in open work three apes--one with his hands to his ears, another covering his mouth, and a third blinding his eyes.
"That place," said the guide, "used to be a stable when the Daimio kept his horses there. The monkeys are the three who hear no wrong, say no wrong, and see no wrong."
"Of course," I said. "What a splendid device for a stable where the grooms steal the grain!" I was angry because I had grovelled before a G.o.down and a stable, though the round world cannot hold their equals.
We entered a temple, or a tomb, I do not know which, through a gateway of carven pillars. Eleven of them bore a running pattern of trefoil--the apex pointing earthward--the twelfth had its pattern reversed.
"Make "em all the same--no good," said the guide, emphatically.
"Something sure to come bad by an" by. Make one different all right.
Save him so. Nothing happen then."
Unless I am mistaken, that voluntarily breaking of the set was the one sacrifice that the designer had made to the great G.o.ds above who are so jealous of the craft of men. For the rest he had done what he pleased--even as a G.o.d might have done--with the wood in its gleaming lacquer sheath, with enamel and inlay and carving and bronze, hammered work, and the work of the inspired chisel. When he went to his account he saved himself from the jealousy of his judges, by pointing to the trefoil pillars for proof that he was only a weak mortal and in no sense their equals. Men say that never man has given complete drawings, details, or descriptions of the temples of Nikko. Only a German would try, and he would fail in spirit. Only a Frenchman could succeed in spirit, but he would be inaccurate. I have a recollection of pa.s.sing through a door with _cloisonnee_ hinges, with a golden lintel and red lacquer jambs, with panels of tortoise-sh.e.l.l lacquer and clamps of bronze tracery. It opened into a half-lighted hall on whose blue ceiling a hundred golden dragons romped and spat fire. A priest moved about the gloom with noiseless feet, and showed me a pot-bellied lantern four feet high, that the Dutch traders of old time had sent as a present to the temple. There were posts of red lacquer dusted over with gold, to support the roof. On one post lay a rib of lacquer, six inches thick, that had been carved or punched over with high relief carvings and had set harder than crystal.