CHAPTER IIDOWN THE KATSURA-GAWA
At four o’clock in the morning of the second day after my visit to the Imperial Diet in the Spring of 1892, I arrived at the station of Kyoto,—for more than a thousand years the capital of Japan. Here the unbroken line of heavenly descended Mikados lived and held their court; but most of the time in only nominal rule, while a succession of Daimyos, military captains, and Shoguns, seized and held the real power of government. Here also are the finest temples and factories for the various kinds of native art-work; and here is where the relics of the magnificence, combined with simplicity, of the court life during Japan’s feudal ages may best be seen and studied by privileged inquirers. It was fortunate, then, that my first introduction to interior views of Japanese life and Japanese character was had in the ancient rather than in the much more thoroughly modernised Capital City of Tokyo.
At that time, the journey between the two capitals required some five or six hours longer than is now necessary. The fact that there were then no sleeping-cars,together with my interest in watching my fellow travellers, had prevented my getting any sleep the night before. When, therefore, I had been escorted to the home of my host and forthwith informed that within two hours a delegation of students would visit me, for the double purpose of extending a welcome and of giving instructions as to the topics on which they wished to be lectured to, I made bold to go to bed and leave word that I should be glad to see them if they would return about noon. At the appointed hour this first meeting with Japanese students face to face, in their native land, came off. It was conducted with an appropriately polite solemnity by both parties. An elaborate interchange of greetings and compliments began the interview; and then the future speaker listened attentively and patiently, while the delegation from a portion of his future audience recited the subjects about which they deemed it best for him to speak. The reply was to the effect that the subjects for the course of lectures had already been selected and carefully prepared: the program, therefore, could not be altered; but some of the topics coincided closely with the program suggested by the Committee; and a series of conversations would accompany the lectures, at which the topics not provided for in thecourse of lectures could be brought up for discussion in the form of question and answer.
This experience and others somewhat similar, which followed with sufficient rapidity, early taught me a valuable lesson for all subsequent intercourse with the Japanese—young and old, and irrespective of distinctions of classes. With full right, and on a basis of history and racial characteristics, they do not gratefully tolerate being looked down upon, or even condescended to, by foreigners. But they respect, as we Anglo-Saxons do, the person who deals with them in manly frankness, and on terms of manly equality. And they admire and practice more than we do, the proper mixture of quietness and politeness in manner with courage and firmness at the heart (suaviter in modo, fortiter in re). In his admirable volumes on the Russo-Japanese war, General Ian Hamilton tells the story of how he asked some of the Japanese military authorities, What they considered the most essential quality for a great field-marshal or general in conducting a battle; and how the reply was these simple words: “Du calme.” The private soldier—although not in accordance with his best service of the cause—may indulge in the wild excitement which Lieutenant Sakurai’s “Human Bullets” depicts in such horriblygraphic manner; but not so the officer in command of the field. He must keep the cool head and the unperturbed heart, with its steady pulse-beat, if he is going to fight successfully an up-hill battle.
After only two days of lecturing at Doshisha, the institution founded by Neesima, the unveiling of whose portrait has lately been celebrated at Amherst College where he graduated some thirty years ago, the weekly holiday arrived; and with it the time for an excursion down the rapids of the Katsura-gawa, which was to give me the first views ofcountry scenes and country customsin Japan. The day was as bright and beautiful as a day in early June can possibly be. Nowhere else in the world, where I have been, are one’s pleasant impressions and happiness in country excursions more completely dependent upon the weather than in the Land of the “Rising Sun.” Although this sun is of the kind which “smites you by day” in the Summer months, you can easily guard against its smiting by use of pith hat and umbrella; but you cannot so readily defend your spirits against the depressing effect of day after day of cloud and down-pour or drizzle of rain.
The starting at half-past seven o’clock made necessary an early rising and an early breakfast; but this is custom and no hardship in the Summer time ofJapan. Indeed it has often seemed to me that the Japanese in the cities at this time of the year do not go to bed at all. The insufficiency of sleep is probably one chief reason for the prevalence of nervous disorders among this class of the population. It is somewhat compensated for, however, by the wonderful ability of the coolies, which they possess in common with Orientals generally, of falling asleep and waking up, like the opening and shutting of a jack-knife.
It is not quite possible for the most gifted master of the descriptive style to depict the charm of the first jinrikisha ride out into the country surrounding Kyoto. At least, the charm experienced by me on the occasion of this excursion will never be forgotten. The excellent road; the durable and handsome stone bridges; the continuous gardens and frequent villages; the perpetual stir along the highway, with the multitude of jinrikishas and two-wheeled carts,—some drawn by men and boys, and some by bulls, mostly black,—or of foot-passengers, coming into the city on business or going into the country bent on pleasure;—all these made the entire journey exceedingly lively and interesting. Further out, in the more solitary places, were the terraces covered with verdure and flowers, the hills carpeted with whatlooked like large and luxurious ferns, but which really was “mountain grass,” and the water-falls; but perhaps most beautiful of all, the bamboo groves, whose slender trunks and delicate foliage threw a matchless chiaroscuro upon the brilliantly coloured ground below. Here was indeed a genuinechiaroscuro; for the parts in shadow had “the clearness and warmth of those in light, and those in light the depth and softness of those in shadow.”
What might have been a ridiculous or even a dangerous adventure met us at the mouth of the long tunnel which the work of the government has substituted for the ancient mountain pass. For, as we reached the spot and were about to enter its mouth, strange noises issuing from within made us pause to investigate their cause. On peering into the darkness, we were able to make out that a full-grown male of the domestic bovine species had broken the straw rope by which two coolies were leading him, and was charging toward our end of the tunnel with all the bellowing and antic fury which is wont to characterise this animal under similar circumstances. It did not seem that the issue of an encounter between us in jinrikishas and the bull, in so narrow a passage with high and roofed-over stone walls on either side, would be to our advantage. We thereforelaid aside our dignity, got down from our jinrikishas, and squeezed both ourselves and them as closely as possible against the side of the cut at the end of the tunnel. Fortunately we had not long to wait in this position of rather uncertain security. For either the sight of us, barring his passage, or some trick of his own brain, induced the infuriated animal to turn about and make his exit at the other end of the tunnel; and after waiting long enough to place a sufficient distance between the two parties, we continued our journey without further adventure.
On reaching Hozu, the village where the boat was to be taken for the rapids, we found that President Kozaki and one of his teachers were waiting for us. Some one-hundred and twenty boys of the Preparatory School, who had risen in the night and walked out to Hozu, had started down the rapids several hours before. The boat in waiting for our party was of the style considered safest and most manageable by the experienced boatmen, who during the previous fifteen years had piloted thousands of persons down the Katsura-gawa, at all stages of its waters, with a loss of only five lives. The boat was very broad for its length, low, and light; with its bottom only slightly curved, fore and aft, and toward both sides. So thin were the boards betweenthe passengers and the swift, boiling waters, that one could feel them bend like paper as we shot over the waves. We sat upon blankets laid on the bottom of the boat. There were four boatmen;—one steersman with a long oar, in the stern, two oarsmen on the same side, toward the bank of the river, in the middle of the boat, and one man with a pole, in the bow. Once only during thirteen miles of rapids between Hozu and Arashi-yama did the boat strike a rock, from which it bounded off lightly;—the sole result being a somewhat sharp interchange of opinion as to who was to blame, between the steersman and the other boatmen.
“THE CHARM OF THE SCENERY ALONG THE BANKS”
“THE CHARM OF THE SCENERY ALONG THE BANKS”
“THE CHARM OF THE SCENERY ALONG THE BANKS”
The excitement of the ride did not in any respect interfere with a constant and increasing admiration ofthe charm of the scenery along the banks of the river. The canyon of the stream and the surrounding hills were equally beautiful. The nearer banks were adorned with bamboo groves, the attractiveness of whose delicately contrasted or blended light and shadows has already been referred to; and at this season, great clumps of azaleas—scarlet, pink, and crimson—made spots of brilliant colouring upon the sober background of moss and fern and soil and rock.
The average trip down the rapids of the Katsura-gawaoccupies two hours. But the favourable stage of the water, helped out by the skilful management of the craft on this occasion, brought us to the landing place at Arashi-yama in scarcely more than an hour and a half. Our entire course may be described in the guide-book style as follows: “Of the numerous small rapids and races, the following are a few of the most exciting:—Koya no taki, or ‘Hut Rapids,’ a long race terminating in a pretty rapid, the passage being narrow between artificially constructed embankments of rock;Takase, or ‘High Rapids’;Shishi no Kuchi, or ‘The Lion’s Mouth’; andTonase-daki‘the last on the descent, where the river rushes between numerous rocks and islets.’”
Arashi-yama, made picturesque by its hills everywhere covered with pine trees, its plantations of cherry trees which are said to have been brought from Yoshino in the thirteenth century by the Emperor Kameyama, and its justly celebrated maple groves, was an appropriately beautiful spot for the termination of our excursion. After taking luncheon in one of its tea-houses,—my first meal, squatted on the mats, in Japanese style,—my host and I left the rest of the party and went back to his home in the city by jinrikishas. On the way we stopped at one of those oldest, smallest, and most obscure ofancient temples, which so often in Japan are overlooked by the tourist, but which not infrequently are of all others best worth the visiting. Here the mild-mannered, sincere old priest opened everything freely to our inspection, lighted the tapers and replenished the incense sticks; and even allowed us the very unusual privilege of handling the sacred things about the idols. Finally, putting a paper-covering over his mouth, and after much prayer, he approached on his knees the “holy of holies,” drew aside the gilt screens and showed us the inner shrine; and he then took out the shoes belonging to the god and let us handle and admire them.
From his point of view, the pious custodian of the sacred relics was indulging in an altogether justifiable pride. For the temple of Uzumasa is one of the oldest in Japan. It was founded in A. D. 604, by Shōtoku Taishi, the Japanese Constantine, who consecrated it to Buddhist gods whose images had been brought from Korea. Although the original buildings were burned some centuries ago, the relics and specimens of the most ancient art were fortunately saved. Nowhere else in the whole country, except at Nara or Hōryūji—and there only to those who are favoured with special privileges by the Government—can such a multitude of these things be seenand studied. The antiquarian interest in them is just now enhanced by the fact that many of them, although called Japanese, were really made either in Korea or else under the instruction of Korean teachers. It is one of the shiftings of human history which has now placed upon the Japanese the responsibility of instructing in every kind of modern art their former teachers.
The accessories and incidents of my second excursion to the rapids of the Katsura-gawa were of a totally different order. The day was in early March of 1907, bright and beautiful, but somewhat cool for such a venture. At the Nijo station—for one could now reach the upper rapids by rail—my wife and I met President Harada and one of the lady teachers of Doshisha, and two of the Professors of the Imperial University. Passes and a present of envelopes containing a number of pretty picture cards, from the Manager of the Kyoto Railway Company, were waiting for the party. The ride to the village of Kameoka was pleasant, although even the earliest of the plum blossoms had not yet appeared to beautify the landscape.
I had been anticipating a day of complete freedom for recreation; but the Christian pastor of the village, who had kindly arranged for our boat, hadwith equal kindness of intention toward his parish, betrayed our coming; and the inevitable under such circumstances happened. The usual committee of Mayor, representatives of the schools and others, were at the station to welcome us. “Could I not visit the Primary School and say a few words—just show myself, indeed—to the children who were all waiting eager with expectation?” Of course, Yes: for how could so reasonable a request, so politely proffered, be reasonably and politely denied? Besides, the children were encouraged to plant and care for trees about the school-buildings; and it was greatly desired that I should plant one to commemorate our visit. Of course, again, Yes. Soon, then, a long row of jinrikishas, holding both hosts and guests, was being hurried over the mile or more separating the station from the nearest school-building. On drawing near we found some 500 or 600 children—first the boys and then the girls—ranged along on either side of the roadway; and between them, all bowing as they are carefully trained to do in Japanese style and waving flags of both countries, we passed, until we were discharged at the door of the large school-house hall.
“TO TEND THESE TREES BECAME A PRIVILEGE”
“TO TEND THESE TREES BECAME A PRIVILEGE”
“TO TEND THESE TREES BECAME A PRIVILEGE”
After luncheon was finished, I assisted at the planting of two small fir-trees just in front of thebuilding, by dropping into the hole the first two or three mattocks full of earth. We were then conducted to the play-ground near by, where the whole school was drawn up in the form of a hollow square. Here, from one end of the square, I spoke to the children for not more than ten minutes, and President Harada interpreted; after which the head-master made a characteristically poetical response by way of thanks,—saying that the memory of the visit and the impression of the words spoken would be evergreen, like the tree which had been planted, and expressing the wish that the future long lives of both their guests might be symbolised by the life of the tree.To tend these trees became a privilegefor which the pupils of the school have since kept up a friendly rivalry.
The excursionists were quite naturally desirous of getting off promptly upon the postponed pleasure trip; but this was not even yet easily to be done. For now followed the request to visit two schools of the higher grade and make a short talk to the pupils in them. I compromised on the condition that the two should be gathered into the same assembly; and this was cheerfully, and for the Japanese, promptly done. The combined audience made about three-hundred of each sex—older boys and girls—standing closetogether, one on one side and the other on the other side of the room, in soldier-like ranks, facing the speaker with curious and eager eyes, but with most exemplary behaviour. Again I spoke for ten minutes; after which followed the interpretation and the address of thanks and of promise to remember and put into practice the speaker’s injunctions.
At the termination of this ceremony, I said—I fear a little abruptly—“Arigato” (“Thank you”) and “Sayonara” (“Good-bye”) and started to go. But I was brought to a halt by the suggestive, “Dozo, chotto” (“In a moment, please”) and then asked to give the boys of the school a chance to precede us to the river bank on foot, from which they wished to see us off and to bid us a Japanese good-bye. And who that knows what a Japanese “good-bye,” when genuine and hearty, really is, would not give more than a single little moment, at almost any juncture, to be the recipient of one? The boys, thereupon, filed out in good military fashion; and after giving them a fair start, we took our jinrikishas again and were carried to the river’s bank. It was still some little time before the boat was ready; and then the party, seated on the blankets and secured against the cold by a covering of rugs, accompanied by the pastor and one of theteachers as an escort, started down the river. Several hundred yards below our starting point, the three-hundred school boys stood in single file along the bank, and continued to “banzai” in their best style until a turn in the river hid them from our sight.
I have dwelt at such length on this seemingly trivial incident, because I should be glad to give an adequate impression of the influence of the lower grades of the public schools of Japan in inculcating lessons of order and politeness upon the children of the nation; and in this way preparing them for fitting in well with the existing social order and for obedience to the sovereign authority of the Emperor, of their parents, and in general of their elders. The common impression that Japanese babies are born so little nervous or so good-natured that they never cry, is indeed far enough from the truth. They do cry, as all healthy babies should, when hurt or when grieved; or, with particular vehemence, when mad. They are almost without exception injudiciously indulged by their parents, their nurses, and in truth by everybody else. But from the time the boy or girl begins to attend school, an astonishing change takes place. How far this change is due to the influence of the teacher’s instruction and example, and howfar to the spirit and practice of the older pupils, it is perhaps not easy to say. But, in school, both sexes are immediately placed under a close-fitting system of physical and intellectual drill. Thus the pride and ambition of all are called out by the effort to succeed and to excel. The Imperial rescripts, the wise sayings and noble achievements of ancient sages and heroes, the arousement of that spirit which is called “Bushidō” or “Yamato-Damashii,” the appeal to the pride and love of country, and instruction in ethics—as the Japanese understand ethics—prolonged from the kindergarten to the University;—all these means are employed in the public system of education with the intention of producing citizens serviceable to the State. They are all needed in the effort of the Government to control the ferment of new ideas and the pressure of the new forces which are shaping the future commercial, political, and social life of the nation, perhaps too rapidly for its own good.
For the interested and sympathetic teacher of children there are no more delightful experiences than may be had by visiting and observing the primary grades of the public schools of Japan. I have had the pleasure of speaking to several thousands of their pupils. At the summons, the boys would come filingin on one side, and the girls on the other side, of the large assembly room with which every well-appointed school-house is now being provided; and as quietly as drilled and veteran soldiers they would form themselves into a compacted phalanx of the large style of ancient Macedonia. Six hundred pairs of bright black eyes are then gazing steadily and unflinchingly, but with a quiet and engaging respectfulness, into the eyes of the speaker. And if his experience is like my own, he will never see the slightest sign of inattention, impatience, or disorder, on the part of a single one of his childish auditors. Further, as to the effect of this upon the older boys when out of school: Although I have been in a considerable number of places, both in the cities and in the country places of Japan, I have never seen two Japanese boys quarrelling or even behaving rudely toward each other so far as their language was concerned. The second item of “advice” in the “Imperial Rescript to the Army and Navy,” which precedes even the exhortation—“It is incumbent on soldiers to be brave and courageous”—reads as follows: “Soldiers must be polite in their behaviour and ways. In the army and navy, there are hierarchical ranks from the Marshal to the private or bluejacket which bind together the whole for purposesof command, and there are the gradations of seniority within the same rank. The junior must obey the senior; the inferior must take orders from the superior, who transmits them to Our direct command; and inferior and junior officers and men must pay respect to their superiors and seniors, even though they be not their direct superiors and seniors. Superiors must never be haughty and proud toward those of lower rank, and severity of discipline must be reserved for exceptional cases. In all other cases superiors must treat those beneath them with kindness and especial clemency, so that all men may unite as one man in the service of the country. If you do not observe courtesy of behaviour, if inferiors treat their superiors with disrespect, or superiors their inferiors with harshness, if, in a word, the harmonious relations between superiors and inferiors be lost, you will be not only playing havoc with the army, but committing serious crimes against the country.”
The success in blending courage with courtesy, bravery with politeness, which this way of disciplining the youth of the country may attain, and actually has attained in Japan, is a complete refutation of the silly notion—so common, alas! in Anglo-Saxon and Christian lands, that haughtiness in “superiors” and insolence in “inferiors,” together with thereadiness to fight one’s fellows with fists, swords, or pistols, is a necessary part of a soldier’s preparation for the most successful resistance to the enemies of one’s country. It is difficult to conceive of more impressive lessons regarding the effects produced by different systems of education upon different racial characteristics than that afforded by the following two incidents. For some weeks in the Autumn of 1899 I occupied a house in Tokyo, from the rooms of which nearly everything going on in one of the large public schools of the city could be either overheard or overlooked. But not once did a harsh word or a loud cry reach our ears, or a rude and impolite action our eyes. But during a residence of a fortnight in similar proximity to one of the best Christian colleges of India, there was scarcely an hour of the school day when some seemingly serious uproar was not in evidence in the room beneath our window. And it was not an uncommon thing to observe both pupil and teacher standing on their feet and vociferously “sassing” each other,—with one or more of the other pupils occasionally chiming in. More suggestive of vital differences, however, is another experience of mine. Toward the close of the Russo-Japanese war a Japanese pupil, a Buddhist priest, who had fought in the Chino-Japanese warand had been decorated for his bravery, had been called out into the “reserves.” A letter received from him while his regiment was still waiting to be ordered to the front, after telling how he had left the school for “temple-boys,” which he had founded on his return from his studies in this country, and of which he was the Dean, added these pregnant words: “Pray for us, that we may have success and victory.” Now it so happened that almost the same mail which brought this letter, carried to another member of my family a letter from a Christian Hindū, who had come to this country for theological study. In this letter, too, there was an appeal to our pious sympathy; but it took the following form: “Pray for me, that I may be able to bear the cold.” Surely, Great Britain need not fear an uprising of the “intellectuals” in India, so long as itsbabusare educated in such manner as to foster so unenduring character, however gifted in philosophical speculation and eloquence of speech.
The system of education now established in Japan, both in its Universities and in its public schools, has still many weaknesses and deficiencies, and some glaring faults. Nor are Japanese boys, especially when they have grown older and become more wise in their own eyes, always agreeable to their teachers,or easy to manage and to instruct. But of all this we may perhaps conclude to speak at another time. This at any rate is certain: There are few memories in the life-time of at least one American teacher, which he more gladly recalls, and more delights to cherish, than those which signalise his many meetings with the school children of Japan: and among them all, not the least pleasant is that of the three hundred boys of Kameoka, standing in a row upon the banks of the Katsura-gawa and shouting their “banzais” to the departing boat.
And, indeed, having already described with sufficient fulness how one runs the rapids, admires the banks, perhaps visits a shrine or a tea-house on the way, and arrives in safety to find refreshment and rest at Arashi-yama, there is nothing more worth saying to be said on the subject.