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 height by the giants of the Yosemite, all tend to make them singularly impressive. The approach to the site is by a wide flight of many stone steps, black and moss-grown with the rains and dews of centuries, forming a grand example of ancient masonry, the large, uniform granite blocks so laid and bonded that, after resting there for ages, a knife-blade could not be introduced between the joints. On careful examination it appeared that no composition either of cement or mortar had ever been employed in this masonry, the builders confining themselves to proper foundation and perfect matching together of the stones. At Tokio, the Shiba temple, curious, strange, and interesting as it was, lost effect by the neighborhood of the busy throng always at hand. To enter the Shiba temple was like visiting a grand museum of specialties, while these lonely Nikko shrines at once command the visitor's half unwilling reverence.
Our tea-house at Nikko was a duplicate of that at Utsonomiga. In the garden was the usual ornamentation so much affected by the people here, consisting of rockeries, little mounds of bamboo or dwarf pines, together with small plots of flowering shrubs, and little ponds of gold and silver fish. These fishes attracted notice as being quite different from any with which we were acquainted. They were a small species, not more than three inches long, and generally smaller than that; but they were supplied with a double complement of tail, and had large protruding eyes like a King Charles spaniel, and pug noses like a fashionable bull pup. They were ludicrous little fellows, so curious withal, that at great trouble and care a few were brought home by one of our party; not all of those selected, however, survived the exigencies of the long journey.
On this posting trip, both going to and coming from Nikko, we observed upon the road, in the several villages and posting stations, many curious things. Women seemed to perform the most of the out-door work, ditching and laboring in the rice swamps, with infants lashed to their backs. When they were met taking articles to market, upon the little country ponies, they rode astride, man fashion. Hens were seen with hair in place of feathers, hens as small as domestic pigeons, hens with plumes on their heads like militia captains, and hens with bare crowns like shaven priests. There were also green pigeons and speckled crows, tame as domestic fowls, among which was seen that anomaly, a white crow. At the tea-house where we stopped for the night, our passports, specially granted, were taken by the local officials and returned to us in the morning. The passport was rather a curious document, and disclaimed all responsibility on the part of the Mikado and his government should the holder be murdered by the way, from whatever cause. In short, we were permitted to travel inland, but at our own peril. It is still looked upon by many as somewhat risky to travel away from the populous centres, but we met with no special trouble.
The natives upon the route were inclined to be a little curious as to the ladies' bonnets and dresses, nor were they quite satisfied without using some familiarity about the gentlemen's attire; but they seemed to be of a soft and pliant mould, easily managed by exercising a little finesse. It was curious to observe how entirely opposite to our own methods were many of theirs. At the post stations the horses were placed and tied in their stalls with their heads to the passage-way, and their tails where we place their heads. Thus they are fed and kept. In place of iron shoes the Japanese pony is shod with close-braided rice straw. Carpenters, in using the fore-plane, draw it towards them instead of pushing it from them. It is the same in using the saw, the teeth of which are set accordingly. So the tailor sews from him, not towards his body, and holds his thread with his toes. They have no chimneys to the houses, the smoke finding its way out at the doors and windows, though brasiers are used instead of fireplaces, and in hot weather are placed outside the dwelling for cooking purposes. The men shave their heads just where the Chinese do not, making a bald spot on the top; and so we might go on specifying peculiarities, showing that the Japanese are our antipodes not only geographically but also in manners and customs.
As regards Japanese art, of which every one has seen such laughable specimens, it must yet be admitted that there is a certain artistic element extant among the people; otherwise we should not have the thousand and one beautifully finished articles which are produced by them, exhibiting exquisite finish and perfection of detail. Of perspective they have no idea whatever; half-tones and the play of light and shade they do not understand; there is no distinction of distances. Their figures are good, delicately executed, and their choice of colors admirable. In profile work or bas-relief they get on very well, where there is no perspective required, but in grouping they pile houses on the sea and mountains on the housetops. At caricature they greatly excel, indeed they scarcely attempt to represent the human face and figure in any other light. In place of entertaining any idea of what is lovely in our species, they look only at the human face and form from the ludicrous side, and this they render by giving it ideal ugliness, or by exaggerating the grosser characteristics. The Japanese artist knowing nothing of anatomy as a science, in its connection with art, nor even attempting the simplest principle of foreshortening, we can only fairly judge as to his success in what he practices. It will be curious to watch the progress of the Japanese, and see their first attempts in perspective drawing. So intelligent and imitative a race will not fail to acquire this simple principle of art and nature; the only mystery seems to be how it has so long escaped them.
Architecture can hardly be said to exist in Japan, though we have used the term. The houses of the prince and the cobbler are the same, consisting of a one-story building composed of a few upright posts, perhaps of bamboo, and a heavy thatched roof. The outer walls are mere sliding doors or shutters, while the interior is divided by screens or sliding partitions. The man of means uses finer material and polished wood, with better painted screens: that is all. Prince and peasant use rice-paper in place of glass, and a portable brasier to warm the hands and feet and to cook with; there are no fireplaces in the country, except in European houses. The pagodas and temples at Nikko and elsewhere are of the typical Chinese stamp, and as far as architectural design is concerned are all alike, and all built of wood. When speaking of the fine and durable masonry, reference was had to the lofty inclosing walls, causeways, and steps which lead up to the broad ground and tombs at Nikko.
We took passage from Yokohama for Kobé in the English mail steamship Sumatra, of the P. and O. line, which, after two days' pleasant voyage, landed us at the northern entrance to the Inland Sea of Japan. Kobé is of some commercial importance, quite Europeanized, but of very little interest to the traveler, gaining its business as the sea-port for the imperial city of Osaka, with which it is connected by the river Yedo. After looking about us here for a day, visiting some lofty and pretty falls in the neighborhood, and some curious Buddhist shrines in a grove back of the town, the cars were taken for Kioto, sixty miles inland, where we arrived in the afternoon and found a good native public house, the Masuyama Hotel, situated on a hill-side completely overlooking the town. Here we had beds, wash-stands, chairs, and the ordinary comforts of civilization. Kioto has a population of over three hundred thousand, and, as we were told, once numbered two million of inhabitants, which one can easily credit, since it was in the past the political capital of the country and sole residence of the emperors; but now the Mikado lives permanently at Tokio.
Kioto is called the City of Temples, and we certainly visited so many that only a confused memory of them in the aggregate is retained. They were by no means equal in grandeur, ornamentation, architecture, or age to those of Nikko, Kamakura, or Tokio. More religious pretentiousness was obvious here—more