Rare days in Japan

by George Trumbull Ladd

All were enjoined to remain in their places until the Emperor had left the House; the audience then dispersed without further regard to order or to precedence. So simple and brief was this impressive ceremony!

Nearly all over the civilised world, at the present time, there seems to be a growing distrust of government by legislative bodies as at present constituted and an increasing doubt as to the final fate of this form of government. The distrust and doubt are chiefly due to the fact that the legislators seem so largely under the control of the struggle which is everywhere going on between the now privileged classes, in their efforts to retain their inherited or acquired advantages, and the socially lower or less prosperous classes, in their efforts to wrest away these advantages and to secure what they—whether rightly or wrongly—regard as equal rights and equal opportunities with their more favoured and prosperous fellows. It is not strange, in view of this so nearly universal fact, that any inquiry as to the past and present success of legislation under constitutional government in Japan, should receive such various and conflicting answers both from intelligent natives and from observant foreigners. There can be no doubt among those who know the inside of Japanese politics that the success of this sort which has hitherto been attained in Japan has been in large measure due to the wise and firm but gracious conduct of the Emperor himself; and to that small group of “elder statesmen” and other councillors whom he has trusted and supported so faithfully. But no few men, however wise and great, could have achieved by themselves what has actually been accomplished in the last half-century of the Empire’s history. Great credit must then be given to hundreds and thousands of lesser heroes; and indeed the events of this history cannot be accounted for without admitting that the genius of the race, accentuated by their long period of seclusion, is the dominant factor. The one fault, which most threatens the cause of parliamentary and constitutional government of Japan, is a certain inability, hitherto inherent, to avoid the evils of an extreme partisanship and to learn that art of practical compromises which has made the Anglo-Saxon race so successful hitherto in constitutional and popular government.

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.