Two thirds of the national road between Tokio and Nikko is lined on either side by large and ancient cedars, so thickly set that both body and roots, in many instances, have mingled and become one. These trees, completely overarching the narrow road, form a welcome shade, and are also very ornamental, with their straight shafts and thick foliage. The first half of the distance to Nikko is perfectly level, in fact one vast rice field. The journey was divided by stopping at Utsonomiga, where we passed the night in a native tea-house. Our sleeping arrangements were very simple. A Japanese bed consists of a thin cotton mattress spread upon the floor, and a similar article with big sleeves for the arms, which forms the covering. The pillow is a block of wood, for which the experienced traveler usually substitutes his valise. There is not much privacy afforded by the paper screens which divide the several apartments, and which prove to be no obstacle to conversation, if one desires a colloquy with his neighbor. Our night-lamp was a floating wick, in a cup of cocoanut oil, placed in a square paper lantern on legs. The morning toilet was made at a basin of water in the open court-yard. There are no chairs, tables, or wash-stands, unless you improvise them. However, we had a very good night's rest, and started off bright and early in the morning for Nikko.
One is impressed with the manifest fertility of the soil and the high cultivation it receives at the hands of the farmers; and this must be characteristic of a country which, as is shown by government statistics, with but eleven millions of acres under cultivation, feeds and clothes thirty-five millions of people; besides there are twenty-five million pounds of tea, three million pounds of raw silk, and thirty-five million pounds of rice exported annually. The population must constantly be on the increase. All along this finely shaded road neat farm-houses were to be seen, but no domestic cattle. Rows of tea-houses were frequently in sight, extending occasionally into a village or town of considerable dimensions, and filled with an active population. The tea-houses, as well as the shops and dwelling-houses, were all open, exposing each domestic arrangement to the public. The floors of these country houses are slightly raised from the ground, say one step, and covered with neat straw carpeting, upon which the family and visitors "squat" and take their refreshments.
The people in the places through which we passed were a little curious at our appearance, but offered no real annoyance. Many were engaged in mechanical pursuits, but were working after what appeared a most awkward fashion, their tools being simple and of little variety; while as to machinery wherewith to facilitate hand-labor, the Japanese seem to have no more idea of it than does a South Sea Islander. Many of the people make the raising of silk-worms and silk winding a source of livelihood. In the rear of some houses were seen little mulberry orchards, and spread out by the roadside, upon mats, were thousands of cocoons in the warm sunshine. Women were frequently seen outside the houses spinning the silk and winding the thread. Though silk raising is so large and important an industry in Japan, the winding of the material is still performed in the most laborious and primitive manner. Grain was being winnowed, as we drove along, by the simple process of passing it from hand to hand, this being done by the women, who also separated the rice from the stalks, drawing it by the handful through fixed upright wooden teeth, placed close together. Nothing could be more primitive.
We had read of Japanese intemperance in the use of saki, a spirit distilled from rice; but during the time we were in the country, one person only was seen under the influence of intoxication, and who was observed on the road during this trip inland. Intemperance cannot be common among the populace, or it would be more obvious. One may see more drunkenness among the common people of American cities in ten minutes than in ten weeks in Japan. Grapes are raised to some extent, but no wine is made from them, or at least not in any large quantity.
The city of Nikko is at present a place of not more than five hundred houses, all of which are located upon one broad thoroughfare, thatched with rice straw, and built of the frailest material. We were told that about a century ago a hundred thousand people dwelt here, but a fire swept their homes away in a single night, leaving only ashes to mark the spot. There is no foundation or cellar to a Japanese dwelling. The temples in this vicinity are isolated from the dwellings, a river running between, and are wonderful in architecture, size, and costliness. They are many hundred years of age, and contain, among other curious ornaments, statues of grotesque shapes in bronze, of priceless value, mammoth bronze figures of birds of the stork species, etc., life-like in character, and of exquisite finish. There are also many emblems and idols in gold, silver, and gilded wood. Some of the bronzes are known to be over a thousand years old, and we were assured that none of such valuable composition has been used for centuries. All ancient Japanese bronze has in it a large percentage of gold and silver.
Before the door, just over the entrance to these temples, there is fastened a gong, and above it hangs a metallic hammer, depending from which is a rope. When a priest, or native of the people, comes hither to pray, he pulls the rope vigorously, and thus produces a series of strokes upon the gong that might wake the dead. This is to call the attention of the Deity, and lead him to give ear to the petition about to be offered! Enormous bells of exquisite purity of sound, hung a few feet from the ground in the area before the temples, are rung at stated periods by the use of a battering ram of wood, suspended near them, causing the huge monsters to give out soft, muffled, though deep and far-reaching notes, that float off among the mountain passes, and come back again from Echo's lips, with startling distinctness. Several priests, clad in long, yellow robes, were seen actively employed, chanting, praying, and performing inexplicable ceremonies. One had a lot of little pine chips by his side, and was busy in alternately feeding a small fire upon a stone slab and beating a tom-tom. This, as our guide informed us, was to propitiate the god of fire, and to avert all possible catastrophes from that much dreaded source. When we passed out of the grounds, some hours later, this priest was still busy with his chips and the noisy tom-tom, though there was no audience present except our little party.
Before another shrine, not far away, was a dancing priestess, clothed in a fantastic manner, the only woman devotee whom we chanced to see in Japan. She held out a lacquered salver for money, presumedly for religious purposes, and on receiving the same she commenced a series of gyrations worthy of the whirling dervishes of Cairo. It was impossible not to recall De Foe's couplet as applied to this witch-like creature: —
"God never had a house of prayer
But Satan had a chapel there."
If she had been young and pretty one might have endured the farce, but the woman was positively hideous, old, and wrinkled. Another priest, hard by, was seen to be writing prayers upon bits of paper, in anticipation of future demand, suited to all sorts of cases; and to be sold to visiting penitents, who would pin or paste them up in the temples as already described, and where the gods could peruse them at their leisure. The wood-carvings, representing vines, flowers, birds, and beasts, which formed a part of the elaborate ornamentation of the temples, could not be surpassed in Europe or America, and were as fresh and bright as though but just finished by the artist.
Our guide told us that the carvings of these temples were executed by a man whose facility was considered miraculous, and whose whole life was devoted to this object. He was known as the Left-Handed Artist, having but partial use of the right hand, and being also a dwarf. It seems, according to the legend, that, while this artist was working at the ornamentation of the temples at Nikko, he saw and fell in love with a very beautiful Japanese girl resident in the city; but she would have nothing to do with him on account of his deformity of person. In vain was his genius, in vain his tender pleadings; she was inflexible, so that at last, quite heartbroken, the poor sculptor went back to Tokio, his native place, where he carved an image of his beloved in wood, life-size, which, when finished, was so perfect and beautiful that the gods endowed it with life, and the sculptor lived with it as his wife in the enjoyment of mutual love all the rest of his life. A classic fable of similar import will occur to the reader. Is there anything new under the sun?
The temples, shrines, and tombs of Nikko, in such perfect preservation, are to the writer's mind the most remarkable in the world. Their complete isolation, far away from any populous neighborhood; the solemn silence which surrounds them at all times, shaded by a grove of lofty cedars surpassed only in size and