Summer Greetings from Japan

From the letters of Walter Sheldon to his wife, during his visit to Japan in the Summer of 1906

By: Lyndon Blaylock, Fall Festival 2005.

Ken Bolte graciously scanned the 60 original glass lantern slides to make them available on these pages.

May 1906 - Aboard the R. M. S. "Empress of India"

We are sailing along quite smoothly on the real Pacific. It is as cold as Greenland, but otherwise, all right, There are six ladies among the passengers, instead of four, as I at first counted. One of them is the biggest woman, outside of a museum, I ever saw in my life. Perhaps she is going to an Oriental museum. Surely she would be an exhibit in Japan. Last night all the "dumb waiters" (Chinamen) appeared at dinner dressed in long white nightgowns right down to their heels. This morning they had on sky-blue nightgowns of the same pattern. We have breakfast at 9 o'clock, boullion and sandwiches at 11, lunch at 1, tea and biscuits at 4:30, and dinner is at 7. Whether they serve supper at 10, 1 do not know, as I went to bed at 9. The articles on the menu are numbered, and you give the numbers. But it does not always work. This morning I ordered number 31 (jam tart). He brought me cold tongue. I ate the tongue, and then ordered 31 again, but again came more tongue. That was too much. The passengers are not exciting. There is an ex-Japanese minister to Japan, various business men, but apparently no missionary. A newspaper man asked me to say what I was. I told him I was really too tired to explain. I have "The Jungle" along to read as a cheerful diversion. It has been recommended as an antidote for sea sickness. It makes you feel so miserable in mind you forget the other sensations. It sustains it's reputation.

We were watching snowy peaks and gorges of the Eleutian Islands all day yesterday. I noticed the thermometer as it came out of the water; it was 37 degrees Fahrenheit. That has been the average. But we will see no icebergs. They never come south of the Eleutian Islands, so the mariner never has that anxiety on the Pacific. I cannot get used to calling "Boy" for the steward, but it is the regular way, so I'm starting to adjust. If you hear me calling out to a table waiter when I get back, "Boy Boy!" do not be alarmed. But the hand clapping to emphasize it I have not yet adopted. My journalist acquaintance asked me the other evening if I had ever heard of the "Ethical Culture Movement" I said, "Yes, something." "Well," he said, "I know all about it." "So!" I said. "Yes," he went on. "It consists of a school of men led by Felix Adler." I looked a little surprised. I said I had the impression they were not a school, but each independent. 'No," he said, "not at all;" they were a school, and thoroughly organized, with societies in Boston, Chicago, Pittsburg, Philadelphia, etc. "But," I remarked, "I had the impression they had no definite creed. "Oh, yes, they have," he said; and then he went on to tell me what the creed was. He said Felix Adler was a Jew, and a good many Jews were in it. "Yes," I answered, "so I understand." It was all highly instructive. I feel quite posted now on the school of "Ethical Culturists". Surely, for imparting knowledge (?) to the world, a journalist deserves the prize.

I should like to see a daily paper. Wonder what Kaiser Wilhelm and Roosevelt are up to just now.... My stock of winter clothes is getting low. The weather must change. I am ready for Japan! I sigh for a bed I can sleep in. A bed six feet wide, with elegant linen sheets, a mattress that cost $150, and springs that cost $200, and pillows to match, to sleep and roll around in for a week. We had a shuffleboard tournament yesterday. Needless to say, I did not win the prize.

June 3, 1906

I've been trying to make out what time it is with you, It is 7:15 a.m., Sunday, here. I have set my watch back about eight or nine hours, so it must be about four in the afternoon where you are, and yet for some mysterious reason it is only Saturday where you are. We will land tomorrow! Yesterday I got the Captain to take me through steerage. It was a sight to behold - mostly Chinamen. They seemed just to live in their bunks. Until yesterday scarcely one of them had come up on deck to get the air. And the voyage on ship will be twelve days this afternoon.

June 6, 1906 - Hotel Metropole, Tokyo, Japan

Yesterday, I wasn't sure if I was in reality, or inside of a picture book! But of one thing I am positive: all the Japanese dolls on sale at Wanamaker's dept. store must have been shipped to Tokyo and come to life - every one of them - on the streets of the city. I used to think those dolls were exaggerations, but it was a mistake; they are the living speaking reality - and just millions of them. Early yesterday, we steamed into harbor. Of course, it was pouring rain, and very warm. I had on my last collar. By the time we were through the customs, although they did not even open my trunks, my collar was done for - melted down to nothing. We climbed into rickshaws and hustled away to the station. At two places, I tried to buy collars. They had plenty in stock, but none as big as 17 1/2. Apparently they thought I wanted a horse collar. So the melted one had to carry me through to the hotel here at Tokyo. By the time I had reached the hotel here, at 10:30, 1 had seen enough to fill me up for ten years.

It seems all right out of the picture books, only a million times more of it - babies strapped on the backs of their ten year old sisters, or sixteen year old mothers, with their heads half shaved, and wobbling as if they would drop off; men tramping along on their two-heeled or - soled wooden shoes; costumes in color and some in no color, with hats of every style under heaven; women in kimonos, people going by in rickshaws, carts hauled by men instead of horses; streets all street and no sidewalk; shops just the way they look in the books, people sitting on the mats waiting for customers. But it just occurs to me that in two days, neither in Yokohama nor in Tokyo, have I seen any drinking, nor a single saloon, nor a drunken man, nor any quarreling.

Oh the sights one sees! I walked the whole length of the great street, the "Ginza" (today it is called the Fifth Avenue of Tokyo). It was the people I kept looking at. It would seem as if the whole populace lived by just shopping from one another. There are shops by the million. I went out this morning to take some pictures, especially of children. The youngsters enjoyed it hugely. They would group in bunches for me, or stand in rows, but it was hard to make them stand still. Have seen goldfish and dwarf trees, but I do not see any fans. I thought every Jap man or woman always carried a fan, winter and summer, day and night, In some things, the comic opera is misleading, evidently. I bought a new watch for $2.50.

Last night I suddenly felt the bed tipping up sideways. It was an awful sensation. Then I remembered, I was told that they were having earthquakes now every week or two. I said to myself I did not want any more earthquakes, in Japan, or anywhere else. But this morning, after mature reflection, I realized it was not that, but something I had eaten for dinner. So, I do want to feel one real earthquake, provided it comes after I have eaten a light meal (which by the way is rather seldom).

I've been asking a lot of questions. It seems that the reason there are so many shops is that the people quite largely make the things they sell. It seems there is less quarreling and drunkenness among the people here, because they eat rice and not meat. It seems that you don't turn to the right, but to the left, when walking the streets. I had noticed that other people and I had had some disagreement or confusion on that point. It seems they do not have "City Hospitals" because you are a member of a family; and if you get sick, your forty seventh cousin must take care of you, if that is your nearest relative, because you belong to his family.

I went back to the Ginza. I had to change my new watch because it would not go. We also went through one of the bazaars - a kind of department store, where one man owns the whole building and each man owns his own department. These bazaars are cleverly arranged. They are like a maze - if you go in you can't get out save by going through all the aisles, up stairs and down, and coming out at the end. We came back in a trolley-car, and for once I saw a Big Japanese. He wore a collar as big as I do, though I think he was not so tall; but he looked vastly more important, and more of a person; and so he was, for he was a Japanese wrestler.

June 8, 1906

Well, I did have an experience last night. It was weekly shopping night, and it was a sight to behold. All the world (and his wife and babies) was out to make the family purchases. Some of the streets were literally jammed with people. The ground was turned into salesrooms, the vendors spread their stuff out on the streets, and the crowd surged along. Perhaps most interesting of all was one street taken up almost entirely with flowers and plants. Verily this people does know how to appreciate the little beauties which count for so much. It was novel to see the display of goldfish - long rows of tubs - coal black goldfish, and red goldfish, and white goldfish; big ones, little ones, fat ones and lean ones; one-tailed ones and ten-tailed ones- each tub with its special price. I watched one little girl making a selection for the family. She chose out three with the greatest care, though, poor thing, she had to choose from the cheapest tub. But of all the strange things was the substitute for canary birds. I found cages, tiny things about four inches long, of fine wicker work. And what do you suppose they have to sing in them? I looked and was puzzled until I heard the music, and saw them in the larger cage crickets!- live crickets!! They keep insects to sing for them, just as we keep caged birds. Next I saw another vendor with other little cages made of wire, and he had fireflies for sale, and firefly cages. At the comer stood the policeman with sword on one side, and holding a paper Chinese lantern on the other; and everywhere one heard the click-clack, click-clack of the wooden shoes, while over all the din was the noise of the Salvation Army, singing camp meeting tunes in Japanese, with the usual crowd standing around listening. Occasionally, I would nearly knock someone over when I would forget to turn to the left, but they were such a good-natured crowd - no quarreling, no angry tones. I shall always remember that night.

June 14, 1906

Buying a watch in Tokyo is an experiment. However, I have one now which has gone for twenty four hours, so perhaps this one is all right, it is number four. The dealer patiently gives me a new one each time I come, and I patiently give it a trial. They are Swiss watches, and he has them in stock so long, that they are full of dust.

I have made a great discovery, and hope you will take it to heart and feel cheered over it in the future. It turns out that I am an exceedingly slow eater, and that I take very, very small mouthfuls. I had lunch with a group of college professors, the other day, and if you could have seen them whisk away their food, you would have been astonished. Why, I did not get half my lunch, for each time the waiter would snatch the plate away before I had finished. I hated to give it up, too, because it tasted good. But the others had finished, and would be waiting for me, so I reluctantly surrendered, though it was the best meal I had had since I left America, However, it was all made plain to me last night, when I took dinner at a Japanese teahouse in the intermission of a theatre performance. We (another group of teachers and I) went to a little room on the second floor of the tea-house. We all sat on the floor in our stocking feet. There were little tables four inches high in front of us. We were given armrests, but I wanted a back-rest! They used chop-sticks, while I had a fork - but you can't cut cold fried eel with a fork, and the pieces were as long as my forefinger. The eel was good, first rate (though it felt afterwards like fried chips of red cedar). But one had to bolt the pieces whole, and everything else likewise. The soup was too much for me. It was rank with fishiness. The chicken composition was not bad, provided you scooped up the right mouthful. I even tasted sake, one teaspoonful, but (low be it whispered) chopsticks conduce to rapid eating, and big mouthfuls of everything excepting rice. They seem to have sucked it in, but I could not manage it. The Japanese maid was nearly convulsed, and so were the rest. On the whole, I really think the Japanese had better adopt knives and forks (though I should hate to have them give up the kimono, and I do not object to their sitting on the floor). My, but if you could have seen that food disappear.

As for the theatre, I can't say much for the play or players, but the audience was extremely interesting. The parquet was arranged in squares, like a checkerboard. Each square had a partition about eighteen inches high. There are no aisles. You walk on the edge of the partition to your square, which accommodates four sitters, for you sit on the floor. People in the boxes or squares were eating rice and fried fish, or drinking tea or smoking, but everybody having a good time. The house was packed, and of course, babies were in evidence, though they kept still. As for the acting - well, it is the one thing here for which I voice no enthusiasm. In fact, it decidedly suggests the barbaric or primeval - posing, voice screeching, "cakewalking" my ears ache with the voices yet. But the costumes were stunning. As for the music - ye heavens and earth and seas and "all that in them is!" Oh-Oh! It was awful - just awful and it was going on nearly all the time as a kind of refrain or recitative, and the instruments were of the primordial, prehistoric, primeval type.

This morning I had an interview with the Mayor of Tokyo at City Hall. He is a gentlemanly man, I asked him about "graft", of course. Behold, though he talked English, he had never heard the word. I shall tell that to Mayor Wells in St. Louis. They evidently don't have much of it here - and they do not change officials with change of party. He apologized for the condition of the streets. I told him the streets were spotlessly clean. I do not believe there is a city in the whole USA where the streets are so well kept. It is really remarkable. But they do smell, for in this city of two million people, there is not a single sewer. only gutters leading to the canals. Yet, it seems a clean and healthy city.

This afternoon, I went slumming. A young man took me to the poorer streets of the city where the rag pickers live, and where they live eight or ten in one room. Yet, it was not offensive even there. I went into narrow lanes and took pictures, with crowds of children thronging around me. But everybody was good natured. Not an unpleasant tone did I hear, or look did I see. The slums were slums, but there was light and air, for the houses are all one story. But they pawn their bed clothing in the morning, and take it out of pawn again at night. But the naiveta of the people here is positively amusing.

June 18, 1906

You may congratulate yourself that you are not in Japan. If you had been with me yesterday morning, it would have meant disaster for you, from which you would never have recovered. You would certainly have gone into debt, and might have been in bankruptcy courts all the rest of your days. I dropped into a "swell" Japanese dry goods store. Had to wear slippers to go in. There were no bargains, but anything in the women's line-from $40 up! My eyes! - but they did have beautiful things for sale! Silks and embroideries enough to make a woman's mouth water. I saw something I wanted at once - but as it cost $40, I let it alone. But you would have pawned everything and got into debt forever just to buy things. Happily for you, however, your purse is safe, and you are safely in America.

The rainy season has begun, and it has drizzled all day, but my rickshaw man has pulled me around faithfully for long rides, and bows most gratefully over the 50 cents I give him. But I'm sorry to say my rickshaw man tipped one youngster over to-day in the street. He was not hurt, but it must be owned that he was a true child, and set up a hearty yell. Evidently it hurt his feelings. He was three years old. It was the first time it has happened. The man did not stop, but I looked back, and saw that no harm was done.

The main object of the day's excursion was the big Sugamo prison in the suburbs, where there are over 1,800 men convicts. It was a model of system and order, like everything else here, and spotlessly clean. There were two immense buildings of cells on the radiating plan. In one hall I saw a most curious sight - two long rows of men sitting facing their cells, as if in religious devotion. But it was punishment. There they had to sit all day long for I do not know how many days, fed on bread and water, for unruliness. They use no corporal punishment. There are 6 or 8 men to a cell, with electric light burning in the cell all night. As the average sentence is only two years, I asked the warden if any came back again. "Yes" he said, "Most of them." How many times? "Twenty," he answered. And so these people have not solved the prison problem and they know it.

This morning I went to visit two of the primary schools, and it was most entertaining. The little tots - boys with their close cropped heads, and girls with heads cropped in ten different ways, were going through the same plays one sees in St. Louis. I went through various classes. It was all very much up to date. There was manual training, clay modeling, girl's sewing, history, geography, reading and writing. It was amusing to see the little ones writing Japanese. I wish I could show you how they hold their pens. The majority of the teachers seem to be men, but there were some women teachers. Looking over the salary list, I noticed that one teacher, a man, gets as high as $32.50 a month. The highest salary for a woman is $16.

Monday afternoon was the Ethical Society's reception in the gardens of the University. Of course, it was pouring rain, but we had a good time. They actually allowed me to come in with my shoes on though the rest went around clink-clank in loose slippers. The Society has about 30 or 40 members (men), but no women. I toured the University for about 6 hours, and after lunch went to the medical department. One professor called it the Russia of the University, because it absorbs so much. It does occupy about two-thirds of all the grounds, especially on account of the immense hospital, which covers several acres. We went through the various parts of the hospital. It has 600 beds, about half of them free. The other half is arranged as first, second, and third class. The buildings are all one story high, for safety, on account of earthquake or fire. I saw babies freshly arrived on this mundane sphere, and one which had neither arms nor legs. Evidently, not everyone has his forty-seventh cousin to care for him in sickness, judging from what I saw at this hospital.

This afternoon I took a long walk, and visited another of the slums. It was something awful - far worse than the rag picker's street. The narrow lanes, with the diseased looking children and half clad people, with the naked little ones, boys and girls, running about, and the smells, and the dirt - it was appalling. And yet I saw no drunkenness, no mean faces, heard no quarreling. They seemed cheerful, even there. I think they took me for a missionary. By the way, if the missionaries in America want to do one service for Japan, they might club together and send about two hundred million handkerchiefs to the children of this country. The people are wonderfully clean, but the children's noses do need attending to. The only handkerchiefs they use here are of paper, and these are used only among the better classes. Happily, the rickshaw men carry a kind of towel, with which they frequently mop their faces, and they must do it often when pulling me, for my weight is not the same as that of the Japanese.

July 12, 1906 - Sendai

Here I am in a regular Japanese drizzle, I feet like a fish breathing underwater. The people here are watching the skies anxiously, for if the rain keeps up, it means famine here, and this time, as the mayor of one of the villages told me, the people would literally starve to death.

I left the Metropole Hotel Thursday with a pang of regret - the mosquitoes had tortured me at night, the fleas had devoured me by day, the bed was as hard as a rock, the table was very monotonous, and yet I look back upon it as the nicest, pleasantest, most homelike hotel I ever stopped at in my life.

The train going north was not quite up to date; the dining car had only two seats, but the food was good. I had omlette, cold meat, beefsteak and beer. As I got further north I was in a region where the foreigner is mostly a missionary and a curiosity. A crowd of girls came to the window and stared, and laughed over me as if I were a giraffe. I laughed back.

I got to Sendai in the rain last night. The Guide Book said a European hotel. You would have laughed to see it. First I was put down on a mat in a tea room to await developments. Finally, someone who could speak English said that in an hour, they would get a room ready for me. So I had to take off my shoes, which was necessary every time I entered the house, if I went upstairs. The "European" part of the hotel consisted of a table and two chairs. There was a bed on the floor, covered with a huge mosquito netting, and a washstand in the hallway, but a mirror was nowhere visible. The walls were of paper screens. The first night three young men were in the room adjoining, talking till midnight, and again at five o'clock. The next night a husband and wife were on the opposite side. If I had understood Japanese, I could have known all their family secrets, beyond a doubt.

Next day, a government guide went with us to go out to one of the villages in the country. We came to a village of about 8,000 people, and called upon the Mayor, who gave us a lot of information. About one half of the people of that village had been receiving relief. At first some had gone three days without food, and still more were getting only one slim meal a day, yet no one had actually died of starvation; though they were anxious now, lest disease should break out.

July 16, 1906

Take it all together, it can rain more here in 24 hours than anywhere else on the globe. This is not the rainy season, this is the Deluge. The breakwater, which the villagers had built with such tremendous patience, gave way yesterday morning, and the river turned into a roaring flood. I never saw the like. Banks were torn away; the road by which we came to the hotel is gone as if it never existed. Houses have disappeared, bridges have been swept away. The whole village was out in tremendous excitement. I saw one man dead, killed I believe, by a falling pole. We were not allowed to cross the main bridge in the rickshaw, for fear it might give way. Two young men started for a distant lake, got within a mile of the place, and the bridge was gone. On returning, the bridge was gone at the other end, where they had crossed in the morning. So the coolies improvised poles, and at the risk of their lives, the fellows crawled over to the other side. The wreckage of the storm is a wonderful sight. I was down at the station, and found that the breakwater had given way there, too. The tracks were flooded and they were expecting the station to be washed away. Work seems to have stopped as they stand in crowds and watch the river.

July 17, 1906

Have visited temples and traversed the country generally to-day, up and down the river and in among the templed groves. No language and picture the beautiful effect of the dark roofs of the temples, rich with gilding, the red beams below, the occasional pagodas, the bell towers, the beautiful gateways - all in a magnificent setting of dark cryptomerias. These trees, many of them, must have been standing when the temples were first erected, some two hundred years ago. I wonder where they got the idea of red for the rich coloring, and what first suggested the bell. From the hotel, I hear, every now and then, the deep, solemn notes of the temple bells, especially impressive along with this beautiful natural scenery.

Well, this is the end of my visit to Japan. I have gained a great deal from it - far more than I expected. Friday noon I sail for home. My clothes hang loosely on me. It has been hard work. I want a good long rest.

See all of the photos from the 60 original glass lantern slides that Ken Bolte graciously scanned the to make them available on these pages.