Rare days in Japan

by George Trumbull Ladd

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.

“[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.