William Bryan - The Old World and Its Ways

But the subject of food led me away from the house. No description would be complete which did not mention the little gate through which the tiny door yard is entered; the low doorway upon which the foreigner constantly bumps his head, and the little garden at the rear of the house with its fish pond, its miniature mountains, its climbing vines and fragrant flowers. The dwarf trees are cultivated here, and they are a delight to the eye; gnarled and knotted pines two feet high and thirty or forty years old are not uncommon. Little maple trees are seen here fifty years old and looking all of their age, but only twelve inches in height. We saw a collection of these dwarf trees, several hundred in number, and one could almost imagine himself transported to the home of the brownies. Some of these trees bear fruit ludicrously large for the size of the tree. The houses are heated by charcoal fires in open urns or braziers, but an American would not be satisfied with the amount of heat supplied. These braziers are moved about the room as convenience requires and supply heat for the inevitable tea.

But I have reached the limit of this article and must defer until the next description of the Japanese customs as we found them in the homes which we were privileged to visit.

Every nation has its customs, its way of doing things, and a nation's customs and ways are likely to be peculiar in proportion as the nation is isolated. In Japan, therefore, one would expect to see many strange things, and the expectation is more than realized. In some things their customs are exactly the opposite of ours. In writing they place their characters in vertical lines and move from right to left, while our letters are arranged on horizontal lines and read from left to right. Their books begin where ours end and end where ours begin. The Japanese carpenters pull the saw and plane toward them, while ours push them from them. The Japanese mounts his steed from the right, while the American mounts from the left; Japanese turn to the left, Americans to the right. Japanese write it "Smith John Mr.," while we say "Mr. John Smith." At dinners in Japan wine is served hot and soup cold, and the yard is generally at the back of the house instead of the front.

The Japanese wear white for mourning and often bury their dead in a sitting posture. The death is sometimes announced as occurring at the house when it actually occurred elsewhere, and the date of the death is fixed to suit the convenience of the family. This is partly due to the fact that the Japanese like to have the death appear as occurring at home. Sometimes funeral services are held over a part of the body. An American lady whose Japanese maid died while attending her mistress in the United States, reports an incident worth relating. The lady cabled her husband asking instructions in regard to the disposition of the body. He conferred with the family of the deceased and cabled back directing the wife to bring a lock of the hair and the false teeth of the departed. The instructions were followed and upon the delivery of these precious relics, they were interred with the usual ceremonies.

The handshake is uncommon even among Japanese politicians, except in their intercourse with foreigners. When Baron Komura returned from the peace conference in which he played so important a part, I was anxious to witness his landing, partly out of respect to the man and partly out of curiosity to see whether the threatened manifestations of disapproval would be made by the populace, it having been rumored that thousands of death lanterns were being prepared for a hostile parade. (It is needless to say that the threats did not materialize and that no expressions of disapproval were heard after his arrival.) I found it impossible to learn either the hour or the landing place, and, despairing of being present, started to visit a furniture factory to inspect some wood carving. Consul-General Jones of Dalney (near Port Arthur), then visiting in Yokohama, was my escort and, as good fortune would have it, we passed near the Detached Palace. Dr. Jones, hearing that the landing might be made there, obtained permission for us to await the peace commissioner's coming. We found Marquis Ito there and a half dozen other officials. As Baron Komura did not arrive for half an hour, it gave me the best opportunity that I could have had to become acquainted with the Marquis, who is the most influential man in Japan at present. He is President of the Privy Council of Elder Statesmen and is credited with being the most potent factor in the shaping of Japan's demands at Portsmouth.

When Baron Komura stepped from the launch upon the soil of his native land, he was met by Marquis Ito, and each greeted the other with a low bow. The baron then saluted the other officials in the same manner and, turning, bowed to a group of Japanese ladies representing the Woman's Patriotic Association. Dr. Jones and I stood some feet in the rear of the officials and were greeted by the baron after he had saluted his own countrymen. He extended his hand to us. The incident is mentioned as illustrating the difference in the manner of greeting. For who would be more apt to clasp hands, if that were customary, than these two distinguished statesmen whose personalities are indissolubly linked together in the conclusion of a world renowned treaty?

A brief account of the reception of Admiral Togo may be interesting to those who read this article. While at Tokyo I visited the city hall, at the invitation of the mayor and city council. While there Mayor Ozaki informed me that he, in company with the mayors of the other cities, would tender Admiral Togo a reception on the following Tuesday, and invited me to be present. Of course I accepted, because it afforded a rare opportunity to observe Japanese customs as well as to see a large concourse of people. As I witnessed the naval review in Yokohama the day before and the illumination at night, I did not reach Tokyo until the morning of the reception, and this led me into considerable embarrassment. On the train I met a Japanese gentleman who could speak English. He was kind enough to find me a 'rikisha man and a pusher and to instruct them to take me at once to Uyeno Park. He then left me and the 'rikisha men followed his instructions to the letter. They had not proceeded far when I discovered that Admiral Togo had arrived on the same train and that a long procession had formed to conduct him to the park. Before I knew it, I was whisked past an escort of distinguished citizens who, clad in Prince Alberts and silk hats, followed the carriages, and then I found my 'rikisha drawn into an open space between two carriages. Grabbing the 'rikisha man in front of me, I told him by word and gesture to get out of the line of the procession. He could not understand English, and evidently thinking that I wanted to get nearer the front, he ran past a few carriages and then dropped into another opening. Again I got him out of the line, employing more emphasis than before, only to be carried still nearer the front. After repeated changes of position, all the time employing such sign language as I could command and attempting to convey by different tones of voice suggestions that I could not translate into language, I at last reached the head of the procession. And the 'rikisha men, as if satisfied with the success of their efforts, paused to await the starting of the line. I tried to inform them that I was not a part of the procession; that I wanted to get on another street; that they should take me to the park by some other route and do so at once. They at last comprehended sufficiently to leave the carriages and take up a rapid gait, but get off of the street they would not. For three miles they drew me between two rows of expectant people, whose eyes peered down the street to catch a glimpse of the great admiral, who, as the commander of the Japanese navy, has won such signal victories over the Russians. I saw a million people; they represented every class, age and condition. I saw more people than I ever saw before in a single day. Old men and old women, feeble, but strengthened by their enthusiasm; middle aged men and women whose sons had shared in the dangers and in the triumphs of the navy; students from the boys' schools and students from the girls' schools with flags and banners, little children dressed in all the colors of the rainbow – all were there. And I could imagine that each one of them old enough to think, was wondering why a foreigner was intruding upon a street which the police had cleared for a triumphal procession. If some one had angrily caught my 'rikisha men and thrust them through the crowd to a side street I should not have complained – I would even have felt relieved, but no one molested them or me and I reached the park some minutes ahead of the admiral. How glad I was to alight, and how willingly I rewarded the smiles of the 'rikisha men with a bonus – for had they not done their duty as they understood it? And had they not also given me, in spite of my protests, such a view of the people of Tokyo as I could have obtained in no other way?