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Updated: June 1, 2025
Hokusai in particular venerated the mountain, and in many of his most beautiful pictures people are calling to each other to admire some new and marvellous aspect of it. It was he who drew Fuji as seen through the arch of a breaking wave! I was looking at the British Museum's example of this daring print only a few days ago, and, doing so, living my Myanoshita days again.
Do you know the Japanese name for wisteria? It is fuji Fujinami Asako. If you have any difficulty ever, come and talk to me. You see, I, too, am a rich woman; and I know that it is almost as difficult to be very rich as it is to be very poor." Captain Barrington and the ex-Ambassador were sitting on one of the benches of the terrace when the ladies rejoined them.
"Thank you, Mr Swinburne," said Togo, offering me his hand as I sat down. "You have spoken pretty much as I expected you would." Then, turning to one of the officers who had been busily writing all the time that I was speaking, he said: "Captain Matsumoto, am I correct in supposing that you have been taking down Mr Swinburne's remarks?" "Quite correct, sir," answered the skipper of the Fuji.
On the night of 21st March the tactics of the 9th of the same month were repeated, including the laying of harmless mines off the mouth of the harbour, and the high-angle bombardment of the fortress by the Fuji and Yashima from Pigeon Bay; but the affair was uneventful; it may therefore be dismissed with the bare mention of it.
As long as Fuji was at work, Gissing sat carefully in the armchair by the hearth, smoking a cigar and pretending to read the paper. But as soon as the butler had gone upstairs, Gissing always kicked off his dinner suit and stiff shirt, and lay down on the hearth-rug. But he did not sleep.
"The matchless Fuji," first of motifs in his art, admits no pilgrim as its peer. Nor is it to woman that turn his thoughts. Mother Earth is fairer, in his eyes, than are any of her daughters. To her is given the heart that should be theirs. The Far Eastern love of Nature amounts almost to a passion.
From time to time, I believe, a rule of the road has been tried, but it has always broken down. The rickshaw bells are the more important, because the Japanese are not observant. They may see Fuji and stand for hours worshipping a spray of cherry blossom, but they do not see what is coming. Normally they look down.
To these questions the Japanese legend gives answer. When Heaven and earth were first created, there was neither Lake of Biwa nor Mountain of Fuji. Suruga and Omi were both plains. Even for long after men inhabited Japan and the Mikados had ruled for centuries there was neither earth so nigh to heaven nor water so close to the Under-world as the peaks of Fuji and the bottom of Biwa.
But unfinished packing, a bath and coffee are awaiting me. Dawn is coming, and already through the port hole I see a dot of earth curled against the horizon. Above floats Fuji, the base wrapped in mists, the peak eternally white, a giant snowdrop swinging in a dome of perfect blue. The vision is a call to prayer, a wooing of the soul to the heights of undimmed splendor.
All sorts of legends and romantic stories are associated with the waters of Lake Biwa. Its origin is said to be due to an earthquake that took place several centuries before the Christian era; the legend states that Fuji rose to its majestic height from the plain of Suruga at the same moment the lake was formed.
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