Japanese women give the greatest attention to dressing their ebon-black hair. None are so poor or humble as to forget this inexpensive ornamentation. Nature has endowed them with a profusion of covering for the head, and they wear no other. It is not very fine, to be sure, but always black as ink, long and heavy, and when arranged in their peculiar style, with broad-spread puffs, like old-fashioned bow-knots, it forms a very striking exhibition of head-gear, shining with oil and sparkling with flashy hair-pins. When once disposed to the wearer's satisfaction, the hair is not disturbed for several days, and is almost the only evidence of personal vanity which they exhibit, as they wear no other ornaments in the form of jewelry. The pillow of which they make use at night, when sleeping, is calculated to preserve the well-greased and plastered tresses in good order, being nothing more nor less than a curved piece of wood upon which the neck rests rather than the head and frightfully suggestive of an execution block.
Here and there, upon the roadside, shrines and holy niches were often observed, approached generally by a flight of stone steps, on a hill-side, looking very old and moss-grown. Upon these were placed consecrated idols, or religious emblems of peculiar character, calculated in our uninitiated eyes to provoke mirth rather than reverence. The principal object was usually a sitting figure in stone, wood, or metal, gilded, and more remarkable for contortion of features, multiplicity of arms, and obesity of body, than for any other characteristic, visible or symbolical. Fertility of soil was manifest everywhere, each square foot of earth bearing its tribute of rice, millet, or vegetables, the rice crop predominating. The fertilizing process is strictly observed and appreciated here, being the enrichment of the soil almost universally applied in liquid form.
A trip to Kamakura, fifteen or eighteen miles from Yokohama, and near where is located the wonderful statue of Dai-Butsu, was one affording much satisfaction. We traveled by jinrikishas, the men drawing us thither, one passenger in each vehicle, in three hours and a half, and back again towards night in the same length of time. The road is mostly located along the sea-coast, or rather in sight of it, so that in many places the ocean comes in to give additional interest and beauty to the scenery of green valleys, well-wooded hills, and richly tilled land, Fujiyama, the one volcanic mountain of Japan, nearly always in sight. Rarely is such rich and varied vegetation to be seen, combined with beautiful outlines of hill-side and mountain top, here covered with an infinite variety of firs. The ancient town of Kamakura was once the political capital of the country, but is now composed of only a few straggling tea-houses or small inns, and half a dozen native dwellings. Here is the famous and deeply interesting Shinto temple of Hachiman, one of the deified heroes of Japan. Some of the trees which cluster about it are a thousand years old; while within the structure are historical emblems, rich, rare, and equally old, composed of warlike implements, sovereign's gifts, ecclesiastical relics, bronzes of priceless value, and the like. Time consecrates; and what is gray with age becomes religious, says Schiller. The temple is built upon a lofty plateau, reached by climbing many broad stone steps, slippery, moss-grown, and of centuries in age. Here was pointed out a fine, lofty specimen of the umbrella tree, of the pine family, with broad leaves of a deep green. The general form was conical, with branches and leaves so dense as to hide the stem.
Less than two miles from this temple is situated the great Buddha image, composed of gold, silver, and copper, forming a bronze figure of great size, nearly sixty feet in height, within which a hundred persons may stand together, the interior being fitted as a small chapel. A vast number of little scraps of paper, bearing Japanese characters, fluttered from the interior walls of the image, plastered there by pious pilgrims as prayers to the presiding deity. As the door was opened for us to enter and was closed again, these scraps rustled in the agitated atmosphere like an army of white bats, producing a puzzling effect until our eyes became accustomed to the dim light, and the cause was apparent.
This famous and sacred figure is certainly as remarkable as the Sphinx, which so gloomily presides over the sandy desert lying at the feet of the great Pyramids. As a work of art, perhaps its only merit consists in the calm dignity of expression and repose of features which are so colossal. It is many centuries old—certainly six hundred years; and how such an enormous amount of bronze metal was ever cast, or how set up in such perfect shape when finished, no one can say. We are told that it was formerly covered by a temple, long since mouldered to dust; but it is certainly none the less effective and impressive, as it now sits surrounded by the natural scenery and the thick woods. Were not the groves God's first temples? Guide-books have not yet invaded the far East, or we should be told how many square inches of bronze is contained in the Dai-Butsu figure, and how many ounces it weighs; statistics concerning which we felt a most sublime indifference, while we gazed upon its combined and wonderful effect.
The glorious old temple of Hachiman, already spoken of, is a sort of Japanese Mecca for pilgrims from all parts of the country; though when we were there, wandering among its lofty and sacred groves, wending our way over its well-worn stone steps and causeways, by its lotus-ponds and heavy-eaved shrines, there were no other visitors. A strangely solemn silence impressed us, until our very voices seemed to be echoed back with a mysterious significance. The shaded and pleasant paths are kept in perfect order, swept clear of every falling leaf or broken twig, showing that care and a sense of responsibility is not wanting. Although these temples are built of wood, so carefully have they been kept, they appear as fresh and bright to-day as though a single decade only had passed since they were finished, instead of a thousand years. A large body of priests reside upon the spot, and are in constant attendance, supported by the offerings of the semi-annual pilgrims who come from the south in large bodies, as well as by the contributions of devout visitors from neighboring cities.
It is well to mention in this connection that the prevailing religions of Japan are Shinto and Buddhism, each, however, being sub-divided into many sects. The Shinto may be said to be indigenous to the country, and is also the official religion, being largely a form of hero worship; successful warriors are canonized as martyrs are in the Roman Catholic church. The Buddhist faith is borrowed from the Chinese, and was introduced about the sixth century. There may be any diversity of creeds among a people, extending even to idolatry. Creeds never came from heaven, but morality is the same in Christian or heathen lands, because it is of God. It is singular that two nations located so near to each other, both of Asiatic race, and with so many important features in common, should have for two thousand years maintained a policy of entire isolation towards each other, though they are now good friends as well as neighbors. This is more remarkable when we remember that a thousand years before the Japanese borrowed from China their written characters, religion, and philosophy. As to the language of Japan, it is composed, as popularly written, of the Chinese and Japanese combined—the fifty Chinese characters being so intimately interwoven with the original Japanese as to form a medley of the two. Modern authors freely use both in the same sentences, and indeed the characters of both languages often appear in the same line.
It is rather deductions than detail which we propose to record in these pages, and though many excursions were made, a minute description of them would prove tedious. Places were pointed out to us here and there, where large and populous cities once stood in eligible spots, but where no ruins marked the place. A dead and buried city in Europe, or even in India, leaves rude but almost indestructible remains to mark where great communities once built temples and monuments, and lived and thrived, like those examples of mutability, Memphis, Pæstum, Cumæ, or Delhi, but not so in Japan. At first it seemed strange that a locality where half a million of people had made their homes within the period of a century should now present the aspect only of fertile fields of grain. But when it is remembered of what ephemeral material the natives build their dwellings, namely, of light, thin wood and paper, utter disappearance ceases to be a surprise. It is a curious fact that this people, contemporary with Greece and Rome at their zenith, who have only reared cities of wood and temples of lacquer, have outlived the classic nations whose half-ruined monuments are our choicest