CHAPTER II DOWN 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 the course 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 horribly graphic

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 of

country scenes and country customs in 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 of Japan. 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

what looked 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 genuine _chiaroscuro_; 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 therefore laid 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 between the

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.

[Illustration: “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 of the 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-gawa occupies

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’; and _Tonase-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 of ancient 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 seen and 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, had with 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.

[Illustration: “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 the building, 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 privilege for 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 close together, 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 the teachers 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 how far 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 filing in 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 purposes of 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 the readiness 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 war and 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 its _babus_ are

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.

Rare days in Japan · 第 2 / 12 章