Red-faced maids stared at the foreigners from the balconies of lofty
inns and eating-houses near Uyeno station. Further on, they passed
the silence of old temple walls, the spaciousness of pigeon-haunted
cloisters, and the huge high-pitched roofs of the shrines, with their
twisted horn-like points. Then, down a narrow alley appeared the
garish banners of the Asakusa theatres and cinema palaces. They heard
the yelling of the door-touts, and the bray of discordant music. They
caught a glimpse of hideous placards whose crude illustrations showed
the quality of the performance to be seen within, girls falling from
aeroplanes, demon ghosts with bloody daggers, melodrama unleashed.
Everywhere the same crowds loitered along the pavements. No hustle, no
appearance of business save where a messenger-boy threaded the maze
on a break-neck bicycle, or where a dull-faced coolie pulled at an
overloaded barrow. Grey and brown, the crowd clattered by on their
wooden shoes. Grey and black, passed the _haikara_ young men with
their yellow side-spring shoes. Black and sabre-dragging, the
policeman went to and fro, invisibly moored to his wooden sentry-box.
The only bright notes among all these drab multitudes were the little
girls in their variegated kimonos, who fluttered in and out of the
entrances, and who played unscolded on the footpaths. These too were
the only notes of happiness; for their grown-up relatives, especially
the women, carried an air, if not an actual expression, of animal
melancholy, the melancholy of driven sheep or of cows ruminant.
The crowds were growing denser. Their faces were all set in one
direction. At last the whole roadway was filled with the slow-moving
tide. The Harringtons and their friends had to alight from their car
and continue the rest of the way on foot.
"They are all going to see the show," Reggie explained to his party,
and he pointed to a line of high houses, which stood out above the low
native huts. It was a square block of building some hundreds of yards
long, quite foreign in character, having the appearance of factory
buildings, or of a barracks or workhouse.
"What a dismal-looking place!" said Asako.
"Yes," agreed Reggie, "but at night it is much brighter. It is all lit
up from top to bottom. It is called the Nightless City."
"What bad faces these people have!" said Asako, who was romantically
set on seeing evil everywhere, "Is it quite safe?"
"Oh yes," said their guide, "Japanese crowds are very orderly."
Indeed they suffered no inconvenience from the crowd beyond much
staring, an ordeal which awaits the foreigner in all corners of Tokyo.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account