After the new Japanese government was officially installed in 1868, only a decade or so after the country had been, more or less, forcibly "opened," the first tourists began appearing.
Some attempts were made, then as now, to herd the travelers to the more obvious sights -- Kamakura, Mount Fuji, Nikko, Kyoto -- but only 10 years later, traveler Isabella Bird was resolutely making her way, despite objections, through Tohoku to Hokkaido. Her example was soon followed by others and Japan was re-opened, as it were, this time by the tourists.
Among them was Charlie Longfellow, the good-looking 27-year-old son of the famous poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. He arrived in 1871 and at once set out to do what tourists since have largely done: see the sights, take lots of pictures, and shop.
Early on, shopping became a major tourist activity. The country had already become known as "a paradise of curios," and whole stretches of the Tokaido, whole sections of Yokohama, were given over to what we would recognize as souvenir stalls. Those who now pick through the debris at the Sunday flea-markets are indulging in a venerable tourist activity.
The Japanese, then as now, were quite ready to dismantle their culture in exchange for what was perceived as a more modern model, and quite a few artistic bargains were to be picked up. In addition, as the economist and sociologist Thorstein Veblen has observed, travel is a leisure-class ritual in which conspicuous consumption plays a central role as proof of one's own and one's society's economic power. Tourists early displayed this power by spending freely to acquire socially desirable goods.
So freely that later travelers complained at what was left. Henry Adams, arriving in 1886, wrote back that "picture scrolls are not to be got, porcelain worth buying is rare . . . we are nauseated by curios."
Getting there earlier, Longfellow bought better things. These are on display in Longfellow House in Cambridge, Mass., and are described in this account of his Japan stays.
At the same time that he was shopping for souvenirs, however, Longfellow was acquiring experiences of a different sort. Among the many photographs taken was a series taken of his "Japanese home." They included a number of women who appeared to be his mistresses. Indeed, it may have been Longfellow that the prudish author William Elliot Griffis had in mind when he declared that there was an American living in Tokyo who "enjoyed a harem of ten native beauties."
Then there was Longfellow's personal tattoo collection. During his first trip he had a giant carp ascending a waterfall carved on his back, and during the second, in 1884, an image of the compassionate deity Kannon inked on his chest. These were several times photographed. Their images are a part of the Longfellow House collection, and reproductions are included in this publication.
Getting tattooed in Japan is something still experienced by shopping travelers, but it perhaps no longer has the bon ton it once had. Back then it was something like a royal rage. Prince Albert Victor of England and his brother, the future King George V, were both tattooed while in Tokyo. George had a dragon tattooed on his arm. The distinguished list of tattooed royals went on to include Grand Duke Alexis of Russia, the Prince and Princess Waldemar of Denmark, Queen Olga of Greece, King Oscar II of Sweden, and Lady Randolph Churchill.
When Longfellow finally returned home to Massachusetts he took not only his tattoos but all of his various purchases, including the photos. His famous father, sensing the sheer volume of souvenirs about to descend, wrote that "you will have a perfect museum of curiosities and I shall have to put a roof on your part of the house to hold them." Which is just what occurred.
This amiable young man, Charlie Longfellow, has been largely overlooked in the annals of early tourists to Japan, but art historian Christine Guth here makes ample amends. All of the information that could be unearthed is presented and analyzed -- his stay permits, investigations into the meanings of "going native" and details on getting tattooed.
Longfellow indeed becomes something of a template of his age, and the various interpretations of traveling abroad are exhaustively investigated; attitudes are weighed and tourists are revealed as often part of the very changes that they deplored.
Longfellow carries this weight of description and theory in a graceful manner, however, and emerges as engaging and feckless -- someone who came here and had a very good time.
With your current subscription plan you can comment on stories. However, before writing your first comment, please create a display name in the Profile section of your subscriber account page.