The Necessity of Firmness—Perplexing Misrepresentations—Gliding with the
Stream—Suburban Residences—The Kubota Hospital—A Formal Reception—The
Normal School.
KUBOTA, _July_ 23.
I ARRIVED here on Monday afternoon by the river Omono, what would have
been two long days’ journey by land having been easily accomplished in
nine hours by water. This was an instance of forming a plan wisely, and
adhering to it resolutely! Firmness in travelling is nowhere more
necessary than in Japan. I decided some time ago, from Mr. Brunton’s
map, that the Omono must be navigable from Shingoji, and a week ago told
Ito to inquire about it, but at each place difficulties have been
started. There was too much water, there was too little; there were bad
rapids, there were shallows; it was too late in the year; all the boats
which had started lately were lying aground; but at one of the ferries I
saw in the distance a merchandise boat going down, and told Ito I should
go that way and no other. On arriving at Shingoji they said it was not
on the Omono at all, but on a stream with some very bad rapids, in which
boats are broken to pieces. Lastly, they said there was no boat, but on
my saying that I would send ten miles for one, a small, flat-bottomed
scow was produced by the Transport Agent, into which Ito, the luggage,
and myself accurately fitted. Ito sententiously observed, “Not one thing
has been told us on our journey which has turned out true!” This is not
an exaggeration. The usual crowd did not assemble round the door, but
preceded me to the river, where it covered the banks and clustered in the
trees. Four policemen escorted me down. The voyage of forty-two miles
was delightful. The rapids were a mere ripple, the current was strong,
one boatman almost slept upon his paddle, the other only woke to bale the
boat when it was half-full of water, the shores were silent and pretty,
and almost without population till we reached the large town of Araya,
which straggles along a high bank for a considerable distance, and after
nine peaceful hours we turned off from the main stream of the Omono just
at the outskirts of Kubota, and poled up a narrow, green river, fringed
by dilapidated backs of houses, boat-building yards, and rafts of timber
on one side, and dwelling-houses, gardens, and damp greenery on the
other. This stream is crossed by very numerous bridges.
I got a cheerful upstairs room at a most friendly _yadoya_, and my three
days here have been fully occupied and very pleasant. “Foreign food”—a
good beef-steak, an excellent curry, cucumbers, and foreign salt and
mustard, were at once obtained, and I felt my “eyes lightened” after
partaking of them.
Kubota is a very attractive and purely Japanese town of 36,000 people,
the capital of Akita _ken_. A fine mountain, called Taiheisan, rises
above its fertile valley, and the Omono falls into the Sea of Japan close
to it. It has a number of _kurumas_, but, owing to heavy sand and the
badness of the roads, they can only go three miles in any direction. It
is a town of activity and brisk trade, and manufactures a silk fabric in
stripes of blue and black, and yellow and black, much used for making
_hakama_ and _kimonos_, a species of white silk _crêpe_ with a raised
woof, which brings a high price in Tôkiyô shops, _fusuma_, and clogs.
Though it is a castle town, it is free from the usual “deadly-lively”
look, and has an air of prosperity and comfort. Though it has few
streets of shops, it covers a great extent of ground with streets and
lanes of pretty, isolated dwelling-houses, surrounded by trees, gardens,
and well-trimmed hedges, each garden entered by a substantial gateway.
The existence of something like a middle class with home privacy and home
life is suggested by these miles of comfortable “suburban residences.”
Foreign influence is hardly at all felt, there is not a single foreigner
in Government or any other employment, and even the hospital was
organised from the beginning by Japanese doctors.
This fact made me greatly desire to see it, but, on going there at the
proper hour for visitors, I was met by the Director with courteous but
vexatious denial. No foreigner could see it, he said, without sending
his passport to the Governor and getting a written order, so I complied
with these preliminaries, and 8 a.m. of the next day was fixed for my
visit Ito, who is lazy about interpreting for the lower orders, but
exerts himself to the utmost on such an occasion as this, went with me,
handsomely clothed in silk, as befitted an “Interpreter,” and surpassed
all his former efforts.
The Director and the staff of six physicians, all handsomely dressed in
silk, met me at the top of the stairs, and conducted me to the management
room, where six clerks were writing. Here there was a table, solemnly
covered with a white cloth, and four chairs, on which the Director, the
Chief Physician, Ito, and I sat, and pipes, tea, and sweetmeats, were
produced. After this, accompanied by fifty medical students, whose
intelligent looks promise well for their success, we went round the
hospital, which is a large two-storied building in semi-European style,
but with deep verandahs all round. The upper floor is used for
class-rooms, and the lower accommodates 100 patients, besides a number of
resident students. Ten is the largest number treated in any one room,
and severe cases are treated in separate rooms. Gangrene has prevailed,
and the Chief Physician, who is at this time remodelling the hospital,
has closed some of the wards in consequence. There is a Lock Hospital
under the same roof. About fifty important operations are annually
performed under chloroform, but the people of Akita _ken_ are very
conservative, and object to part with their limbs and to foreign drugs.
This conservatism diminishes the number of patients.
The odour of carbolic acid pervaded the whole hospital, and there were
spray producers enough to satisfy Mr. Lister! At the request of Dr. K. I
saw the dressing of some very severe wounds carefully performed with
carbolised gauze, under spray of carbolic acid, the fingers of the
surgeon and the instruments used being all carefully bathed in the
disinfectant. Dr. K. said it was difficult to teach the students the
extreme carefulness with regard to minor details which is required in the
antiseptic treatment, which he regards as one of the greatest discoveries
of this century. I was very much impressed with the fortitude shown by
the surgical patients, who went through very severe pain without a wince
or a moan. Eye cases are unfortunately very numerous. Dr. K. attributes
their extreme prevalence to overcrowding, defective ventilation, poor
living, and bad light.
After our round we returned to the management room to find a meal laid
out in English style—coffee in cups with handles and saucers, and plates
with spoons. After this pipes were again produced, and the Director and
medical staff escorted me to the entrance, where we all bowed profoundly.
I was delighted to see that Dr. Kayabashi, a man under thirty, and fresh
from Tôkiyô, and all the staff and students were in the national dress,
with the _hakama_ of rich silk. It is a beautiful dress, and assists
dignity as much as the ill-fitting European costume detracts from it.
This was a very interesting visit, in spite of the difficulty of
communication through an interpreter.
The public buildings, with their fine gardens, and the broad road near
which they stand, with its stone-faced embankments, are very striking in
such a far-off _ken_. Among the finest of the buildings is the Normal
School, where I shortly afterwards presented myself, but I was not
admitted till I had shown my passport and explained my objects in
travelling. These preliminaries being settled, Mr. Tomatsu Aoki, the
Chief Director, and Mr. Shude Kane Nigishi, the principal teacher, both
looking more like monkeys than men in their European clothes, lionised
me.
The first was most trying, for he persisted in attempting to speak
English, of which he knows about as much as I know of Japanese, but the
last, after some grotesque attempts, accepted Ito’s services. The school
is a commodious Europeanised building, three stories high, and from its
upper balcony the view of the city, with its gray roofs and abundant
greenery, and surrounding mountains and valleys, is very fine. The
equipments of the different class-rooms surprised me, especially the
laboratory of the chemical class-room, and the truly magnificent
illustrative apparatus in the natural science class-room. Ganot’s
“Physics” is the text book of that department.