From Egypt to Japan

by Henry M. Field

We had intended to go to Shanghai, and through the Inland Sea of Japan, but we sacrificed even such a pleasure (or rather left it till the next time) to take advantage of this noble ship, that was bound direct for Yokohama. Our course took us through the Channel of Formosa, in full sight of the island, which has had an unenviable notoriety from the treatment of the crews of ships wrecked on its inhospitable coast. Leaving it far behind, in six days we were running along the shores of Japan, and might have seen the snowy head of Fusiyama, had it not been wrapped in clouds. The next morning we left behind the long roll of the Pacific, and entered the Bay of Yedo—a gulf fifty miles deep, whose clear, sparkling waters shone in the sunlight. Fishing-boats were skimming the tranquil surface. The Japanese are born to the sea. All around the coast they live upon it, and are said to derive from it one-third of their subsistence. The shores, sloping from the water's edge, are sprinkled with Japanese villages. Some thirty miles from the sea we pass Mississippi Bay, so called from the flag-ship of Commodore Perry, which lay here with his fleet while he was conducting the negotiations for the opening of Japan; the headland above it bears the name of Treaty Point. Rounding this point, we see before us in the distance a forest of shipping, and soon cast anchor in the harbor of Yokohama.

Yokohama has a pleasant look from the sea, an impression increased as we are taken off in a boat, and landed on the quay—a sea wall, which keeps out the waves, and furnishes a broad terrace for the front of the town. Here is a wide street called "The Bund," on which stand the principal hotels. From our rooms we look out directly on the harbor. Among the steamers from foreign ports, are a number of ships of war, among which is the Tennessee, the flagship of our Asiatic squadron, bearing the broad pennant of Admiral Reynolds, whom we had known in America, and indeed had bidden good-by at our own door, as we stepped into the carriage to drive to the steamer. We parted, hoping to meet in Asia, a wish which was now fulfilled. He was very courteous to us during our stay, sending his boat to bring us on board, and coming often with his excellent wife to see us on shore. It gave us a pleasant feeling of nearness to home, to have a great ship full of our countrymen close at hand.

In the rear of the town the hill which overlooks the harbor, bears the foreign name of "The Bluff." Here is quite an American colony, including several missionary families, in which we became very much at home before we left Japan.

Yokohama has an American newness and freshness. It is only a few years since it has come into existence as a place of any importance. It was only a small fishing village until the opening of Japan, since which it has become the chief port of foreign commerce. It is laid out in convenient streets, which are well paved, and kept clean, and altogether the place has a brisk and lively air, as of some new and thriving town in our own country.

But just at this moment we are not so much interested to see American improvements as to see the natives on their own soil. Here they are in all their glory—pure-blooded Asiatics—and yet of a type that is not Mongolian or Malayan or Indian. The Jap is neither a "mild Hindoo" nor a "heathen Chinee." His hair is shaved from his head in a fashion quite his own, making a sort of triangle on the crown; and no long pigtail decorates his person behind. We recognize him at once, for never was a human creature so exactly like his portrait. We see every day the very same figures that we have seen all our lives on tea-cups and saucers, and fans and boxes. Our first acquaintance with them was as charioteers, in which they take the place, not of drivers, but of horses; for the jin-riki-sha (literally, a carriage drawn by man power) has no other "team" harnessed to it. The vehicle is exactly like a baby carriage, only made for "children of a larger growth." It is simply an enlarged perambulator, on two wheels, drawn by a coolie; and when one takes his seat in it, he cannot help feeling at first as if he were a big baby, whom his nurse had tucked up and was taking out for an airing. But one need not be afraid of it, lest he break down the carriage, or tire out the steed that draws it. No matter how great your excellency may be, the stout fellow will take up the thills, standing where the pony or the donkey ought to be, and trot off with you at a good pace, making about four miles an hour. At first the impression was irresistibly ludicrous, and we laughed at ourselves to see what a ridiculous figure we cut. Indeed we did not quite recover our sobriety during the three weeks that we were in Japan. But after all it is a very convenient way of getting about, and one at least is satisfied that his horses will not run away, though he must not be too sure of that, for I sometimes felt, especially when going down hill, that they had got loose, and would land me with a broken head at the bottom.

But Yokohama is only the gate of Yedo (or Tokio, as it is the fashion to call it now, but I keep to the old style as more familiar), of which we had read even in our school geographies as one of the most populous cities of Asia. The access is very easy, for it is only eighteen miles distant, and there is a railroad, so that it is but an hour's ride. While on our way that morning, we had our first sight of Fusiyama. Though seventy miles distant, its dome of snow rose on the horizon sharp and clear, like the Jungfrau at Interlachen.

Arrived at Yedo, the station was surrounded by jinrikishas, whose masters were kept in better order than the cabmen of New York. Wishing to appear in the capital with proper dignity, we took two men instead of one, so that each had a full team; and fine young bloods they were, full of spirit, that fairly danced with us along the street, in such gay fashion that my clerical garb was hardly sufficient to preserve my clerical character. We first trotted off to the American Minister's, Mr. Bingham's, who received us with all courtesy, and sent for the interpreter of the Legation, Rev. Mr. Thompson, an American missionary, who kindly offered to be our guide about the city, and gave up the day to us. With such a cicerone, we started on our rounds. He took us first to what is called the Summer Palace, though it is not a palace at all, but only a park, to which the Mikado comes once in a while to take his royal pleasure. There are a few rest-houses scattered about, where one, whether king or commoner, might find repose; or strolling under the shade of trees, and looking off upon the tranquil sea. Next we rode to the Tombs of the Tycoons, where, under gilded shrines, beneath temples and pagodas, sleep the royal dead. The grounds are large and the temples exquisitely finished, with the fine lacquer work for which the Japanese are famous; so that we had to take off our shoes, and step very softly over the polished floors. Riding on through endless streets, our friend took us to a hill, ascended by a long flight of steps, on the top of which, in an open space, stood a temple, an arbor, and a tea-house. This point commands an extensive view of Yedo. It is a city of magnificent distances, spreading out for miles on every side; and yet, except for its extent, it is not at all imposing, for it is, like Canton, a mere wilderness of houses, relieved by no architectural magnificence—not a single lofty tower or dome rising above the dead level. But, unlike Canton, the city has very broad streets, sometimes crossed by a river or a canal, spanned by high, arched bridges. The principal business street is much wider than Broadway, but it has not a shop along its whole extent that would make any show even in "The Bowery." The houses are built only one story high, because of earthquakes which are frequent in Japan, caused, as the people believe, by a huge fish which lies under the island, and that shakes it whenever he tosses his head or lashes his tail. The houses are of such slight construction that they burn like tinder; and it is not surprising that the city is often swept by destructive fires. But if the whole place were thus swept away, or if it were shaken to pieces by an earthquake in the night, the people would pick themselves up in the morning and restore their dwellings, with not much more difficulty than soldiers, whose tents had been blown down by the wind, would find in pitching them again and making another camp. Some of the government buildings are of more stately proportions, and there are open grounds in certain quarters of the city, adorned with magnificent trees, like the ancient oaks which cast their shadows on the smooth-shaven lawns of England, and give to English parks such an air of dignity and repose.

The Castle of the late Tycoon, which may be said to be the heart of the city, around which it clusters, is more of a fortress than a palace. There is an immense enclosure surrounded by a deep moat (whose sides are very pretty, banked with rich green turf), and with picturesque old towers standing at intervals along the walls. In the rear of the grounds of the old Castle is the much less ambitious residence of the Mikado, where he is duly guarded, though he does not now, as formerly, keep himself invisible, as if he were a divinity descended from the skies, who in mysterious seclusion ruled the affairs of men.

By this time we were a little weary of sight-seeing, and drew up at a Japanese tea-house, to take our tiffin. The place was as neat as a pin, and the little maids came out to receive us, and bowed themselves to the ground, touching the earth with their foreheads, in token of the great honor that had come to their house—homage that we received with becoming dignity, and went on our way rejoicing.

The pleasantest sights that we saw to-day were two which showed the awakened intelligence and spirit of progress among the people. These were the Government College, with two hundred students, manned in part by American professors (where we found our countryman Dr. Veeder in his lecture-room, performing experiments); and an old Temple of Confucius which has been turned into a library and reading-room. Here was a large collection of books and periodicals, many from foreign countries, over which a number of persons were quietly but studiously engaged. The enclosure was filled with grand old trees, and had the air of an academic grove, whose silent shades were devoted to study and learning.