richest lacquer and painting, the wheels inlaid with mother-of-pearl so as to reflect the sunlight! A royal wedding in Japan must indeed be a brave show! But we are satisfied with the old ambassador’s account of one, and it is possible that, in the present day, there is less pomp and more good sense in royal or princely progresses in Japan, for, so far as our own observation went, there was a singular absence of anything approaching to mere show. Even in Yedo, although great pomp and ceremony were insisted upon in all that related to official or royal affairs, yet, as a general rule, looking up or down the most crowded street, the traveller would be struck with the quiet colours which prevailed in the dress of the people—especially in the men—who were invariably clothed in blue or black, plain or checked, with one exception, and that was in the policemen. They were attired like harlequins, why or wherefore, except to give notice of their presence, we did not learn. These policemen had no arms, except an iron spike about four feet long, with a number of loose rings in a loop at the end, which, jingling together like the alarum of a rattlesnake, warned the unprepared that the representative of the law was at hand. In spite of all these policemen, and of the order by which a crowd was sometimes kept from annoying us, or impeding our progress; in spite of the arrangement by which, in every town or large village, a series of barriers occurred at every two or three hundred yards, with two headboroughs in each space, so as to suddenly shut off the escape of a criminal, or to prevent the rapid extension of tumult, there was, a sense of insecurity arising from the constant presence of armed men, and the fact that every nobleman, and especially the great princes, had in their pay vast bodies of retainers, ready to perform any act of violence if their chief only assumed the responsibility of giving the order.
Japanese government cannot possibly be stronger than that of England used to be when each baron had his own armed retainers, or when every free man and noble walked about with a sword by his side. They are no better, and we believe no worse, and until the Japanese generally disarm, it would, we opine, be as well for our travellers in Japan to be armed likewise. A drunken retainer will be less likely to assail a European when he sees him ready to defend himself, and it is not likely that we should become assailants.
Every Japanese gentleman carries two swords, one somewhat longer than the other, and in the hilt of one of them is inserted a sharp dagger which still remains in his hand, supposing the other weapons fail him. These swords are never parted with; even when seated one is still kept in the belt, the other laid down by the side. The value of these weapons is sometimes enormous, and no foreigner may purchase them without the consent of the authorities, a jealousy said to arise from a belief that Japanese valour and Japanese steel go together. The old Spanish motto upon Toledo blades, “Draw me not without reason, sheathe me not without honour,” has a practical exemplification in Japan. They dislike drawing their swords for mere exhibition: “it was not good to look upon naked swords amongst friends,” as one native remarked at Yedo. This feeling arose from no nervous squeamishness, but rather from a deep sense of the sad frequency of appeals to the sword, and because none of them knew how soon the edge of the sword would be their sharp bridge to another state of existence. Indeed, whilst we are writing, news has reached us of recent appeals to arms in that fair city of Yedo. A hostile prince directed his retainers to cut off one who is at present Regent to the young Taikoon. They failed, although they wounded the Regent, in consequence of the devotion of his own guard. The assailants fled, followed by the Imperial forces. A few only escaped; and mark the desperate valour of these men—as every one of the retreating party fell through wounds or fatigue, their comrades decapitated them in order that no evidence should be forthcoming to inculpate their chief! The next stage in the tragedy is the “happy despatch” of the unsuccessful nobles, and all this in 1859—how very horrid and barbarous, some may say. We reply, go read the History of England, and say how long it is since we emerged from that condition; and remember, we were Christians, these people are not.
There used to be some years ago in Japan a curious custom, which it is possible has in this day ceased to be practised—for even in the East there is a progress—and it illustrated the native valour and generous courage of these people perhaps more strongly than what we have just seen occur in Yedo. When a nobleman had committed a crime worthy of death, he might, if he pleased, instead of disembowelling himself, call upon all his kith and kin to assemble in his abode, and endeavour to hold it by force of arms against the Imperial forces. The fight generally terminated in a great slaughter, yet, strange to say, any of his kinsmen who failed to share in such a mêlée were considered to be dishonoured.
But let us pass on. The sun has risen high, it is rather warm and dusty, and the demi-peak saddle lined with brass not the most pleasant of seats. We call the norima-men to bring that Japanese palanquin within reach, and take refuge in it. It looks heavy, but it is not so, and is constructed of very thin panels of cedar varnished over. The interior is very comfortably furnished, and allows one to lie down with much ease. The pole of the norima is the important feature: it passes over the roof, and by its length and massive proportions our rank is proclaimed. A small humble individual, a short, light pole; a great important personage, a long ponderous one. The laws are very strict upon this head, as far as men are concerned; but the laws are gallant, and allow considerable licence to ladies upon the question of poles to their norimas. Huge as the pole looks, Kæmpfer assures us the materials of which it is artfully constructed, thin slabs of pine or cedar, and much glue, deprive it of its apparent weight. The porters do not appear to heed either it or our weight, and go off at a sharp pace. If we were a Japanese prince, our pole would only rest on the palms of the men’s hands, and they would strut through all the towns in a very quaint, coxcomb-like manner; not being a prince, we are