I heard a man in Chiba combating very strongly the idea of there being a connection between leprosy and fish eating. As to leprosy, it is doubtful if the belief expressed by the Chinese name for the disease, "heavenly punishment," has disappeared. There are at least 24,000 lepers in Japan, and as a well-known Japanese work of reference casually remarks, "the hospitals can at present accommodate only 5 per cent. of them."
I could not but compare the undulating countryside, on which so vast an amount of labour had been expended, with what it would have been under European treatment and the influence of an European climate—possibly picturesque pasture with high hedges. The congeries of rice fields was fringed, where the water supply had given out, with upland cultivation. On the low mud walls which separated the paddies beans grew except at a boundary corner, where a tea or mulberry bush served as a landmark. In looking down or up the little valleys one saw how completely the houses had been brushed aside to the foot of the low hills so that no land cultivable as paddies should be wasted. This intensely developed countryside was not however ideal land. It was often much too sandy. Not a few paddies had to depend to some extent on the water they could catch for themselves. A naturally draughty and hungry land was yielding crops by a laborious manurial improvement of its physical and chemical condition, by wonders being wrought in rural hydraulics and by unending industry in cultivation and petty engineering.
It might be supposed that beauty had gone from the countryside. Some of what the land agents call the amenities of the district had certainly disappeared. There seemed to be nowhere for the pedestrian to sit down in order to refresh himself with those rural sights and sounds which exhilarate the spirit. But this marvellously delved, methodised and trimmed countryside had a character and a stimulus of its own. It reflected the energy and persistence that had subdued it. I saw nothing ugly. The tidied rice plots, shaped at every possible curve and angle, and eloquent of centuries of unremitting toil; the upland beyond them, worked to a skilled perfection of finish; the nesting houses which nowhere offended the eye; the big still ponds contrived by the rude forefathers of the hamlet for water storage or the succour of the rice in the hottest weather; the low hilltops green with pine because cultivation could not ascend so far, and hiding here and there a Shinto sanctuary: such a countryside was satisfying in its own way.
In Chiba, as in other prefectures, one is impressed by the way in which the exertions of many generations have resulted in the levelling of wide areas and even the complete removal of small hills. In many places one can still see low hills in process of demolition. In Tokyo itself several small hills have been carried off in recent years.
I was in Chiba several times and I remember to have noticed one winter day with what considered roughness the paddies had been dug in order to receive from frost and sun the benefits which are as good as a manuring. Some notion of the strength of the weather forces at work may be gathered from the fact that, though I was walking without an overcoat and was glad to shade my eyes by pulling down the brim of my hat, the frost of the two previous nights had produced ice on the paddies an inch thick.
Sometimes at the irrigation reservoirs one may see notice boards announcing that these water areas are stocked with koi (carp). This fish is also kept in the paddies. The carp are put in as yearlings or two-year-olds, when the paddies are flooded, and a score out of every hundred come out in the autumn—assuming the happiest conditions—ten inches or so long. Carp culture flourishes in the sericulture districts, where the pupæ which remain when the cocoons are unwound are thrown to the fish; but pupæ fed carp have a flavour which diminishes their value. Indeed paddy-field fish, which on the whole must have a rather troubled existence, do not bring the price of river carp. Other fish than carp, eels for instance, are also kept in paddies.[[206]]
I visited a vigorous personality who was at once a landowner and rural oculist, as his father and grandfather had been before him. He had graduated at Tokyo and had kept himself abreast of German specialist literature. There was accommodation for about a hundred patients in the buildings attached to his house. He believed in the efficacy in eye cases of "the air of the rice fields," not to speak of the shrine which overlooks the patients' quarters. As the number of blind people in Japan is appalling, [[207]] it was interesting to hear the opinion that the chief causes were gonorrhœa, inadequate attention at birth, insufficient nourishment in childhood and nervous disease—all more or less preventible. Nearly a quarter of my host's patients had had their eyes wounded by rice-stem points while stooping in the paddies. As the people are hurt in the busy season they often put off coming for help until it is too late.
The landowner-oculist's premises were lighted by natural gas from a depth of 900 ft. According to a fellow-guest, who happened to be an expert in this matter, natural gas is to be had all over Japan. [[208]]
The room in which I slept belonged to a part of the house which was of great age, but by my futon there was laid an electric torch.
A pleasant thing during my visit was the presence of a dozen intelligent, kindly students who early in the evening came and knelt in a semicircle round us, "in order to profit by our talk." One of them, a son of the house, an athlete (and now, after travelling in Europe, his father's successor), did all sorts of services for me during my stay, in the simple-hearted fashion that shows such an attractive side of the Japanese character. One question asked by the students was, "For what reasons does Sensei believe that the influence of women in public life would be good?" Another enquiry was, "Which are the best London and Paris papers?" These lads could hardly hope to get through the university before they were twenty-five or twenty-six. Yet, compared with our undergraduates, they had very little time for general reading, discussions and outdoor sports. I remember a man of some experience in the educational world saying to me, "Our students do not read enough apart from their studies; it is their misfortune." They have not only the burden of having to learn nearly several thousand ideographs, [[209]] three scripts and Japanese and Chinese pronunciation. They have to acquire Western languages, which, owing to their absolute dissimilarity from Oriental tongues—for example, the word for "I" is watakushi—must be learnt entirely from memory. It is not that the Japanese student does not begin early as well as leave off late. A professor once said to me, "For some little time after I first went to school I was still fed from the bosom of my mother." In some ways it is no doubt a source of strength for Japan that her men can spend from their earliest years to the age of twenty-six on the acquirement of knowledge and self-discipline—the privileges of the student class and the generosity of their families and friends and the public at large are remarkable—but the disadvantages are plain. No sight seems stranger to a new arrival in Japan than that of so many men in their middle or late twenties still wearing the conspicuous kimono and German bandsman cap of the student.