In spite of Kyoto's eight hundred temples I could not get any but a
materialistic concept of its inhabitants; and elsewhere this impression
was emphasised. A stranger cannot, of course, know; he can but record
his feelings, without claiming any authority for them. But I am sure
I was never in a country where I perceived fewer indications of any
spiritual life. Every one is busy; every one seems to be happy or at any
rate not discontented; every one chatters and laughs and is, one feels,
a fatalist. Sufficient unto the day! After all, it is the women of a
nation that chiefly keep burning the sacred flame and pass it on; but in
Japan, I understand, the women are far too busy in pleasing the men
to have time for such duties; Japan is run by men for men. It is an
unwritten law that a woman must never be anything but gay in her lord's
presence, must never for a moment claim the privilege of peevishness.
As an instance of the Japanese woman's indifference to fate and
readiness to oblige, I may say that we had on our ship two or three
hundred girls in charge of a duenna or so, who were bound for Honolulu
to be married to Japanese settlers there, to whom their photographs had
been forwarded. These girls are known as "Picture Brides." At Honolulu
their new proprietors awaited them, and I suppose identified and
appropriated them, although to the European eye one face differed no
whit from another.
The Japanese have the practical qualities that consort with materialism.
They are quick to supply creature comforts; their hotels are
well-managed; their cooks are excellent; their sign-posts are numerous
and, I believe, very circumstantial; at the railway stations are lists
of the show places in the neighbourhood; the telephone is general. But
there are strange failings. The roads, for example, are often very bad,
although so many motor-cars exist. Even in Tokio the puddles and mud are
abominable. There is no fixed rule to force rickshaw men to carry bells.
There is no rule of the road at all, so that the driver of a vehicle
must be doubly alert, having to make up his mind not only as to what he
is going to do himself, but also what the approaching driver is probably
going to do. 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.
The rickshaw is comfortable and speedy; but to be drawn about by a
fellow-creature is a humiliating experience and I never ceased to feel
too conspicuous and ashamed. I discovered also how easy it is to lose
one's temper with these men. I used to sit and wonder if there had ever
been a runaway, and I never hired a rickshaw without thinking of Mr.
Anstey's story of the talking horse.