Outposts of Asia

by Morilla Maria Norton

PEERESS’ SCHOOL

If you walk from Hibiya Park between two imposing public buildings, up the broad avenue to the top of the hill, you will come to the high wall which encloses the Peeress’ School, with the court, a fine entrance space, with porter’s lodge and a porte cochere of Gothic arches, and the whole a good bit of English architecture, with wide door and a lofty hall. Opposite you as you enter is the refectory, with its low tables and the plain and substantial effect of age and use. Two pretty portresses will meet you at the door, with their eyes full of fun, as all boarding-school maids have, as they are the secret ambassadors of much mischief and are initiates of that occult society of fun. Their demure manners, assumed for the occasion, do not blind you to their roguery, for you have been a boarding-school girl long ago.

The instructor in English is as courteous as a guide as he is clever in the use of your mother tongue, and you begin with a keen relish the tour of inspection.

The reception room is rather like the meeting room of a committee, for which purpose it is doubtless often used. Here the wise heads are doubtless laid together and those plans for the education of Japan’s future wives and mothers laid. Out of this room leads the Empress’ reception room, with the heavy damask curtains, the high ceilings and the empty walls where, on the two yearly visits, the gracious and “first woman of the land” receives the homage of the director and his staff and gives in return the interest of all true women, be they high or low, in the education and welfare of their sex.

The school has three terms,—one week’s vacation in April, and more than two months in summer, and a short vacation at the New Year. About the end of October is the exhibition in physical exercises, and about the end of March that awe-inspiring epoch of graduation, when the high functionaries of State and the distinguished clientele of Tokyo come to see their girls step out of the schoolroom into the school of life—a moment mingled in every land and school with gaiety and pathos.

The children enter the kindergarten at the end of the toddling age, and the little lads and lassies sit side by side in their delightful rooms and make their first songs of life, as they end them, together, their little arms and hands making the first efforts at rhythm together, awkward movements full of grace. They pass at eight years to the primary department and begin the toilsome upward pull of real study, and here their ways part,—the boys for the Peers’ School and the ruder ways of masculine effort. From the primary course they enter at about the age of fourteen the “middle course,” and that is in grade substantially our High School. From this they can take post-graduate courses in special studies, such as the classics, music and other branches. The branches are technical departments, music, needlework and embroidery, and a thorough course in cooking. Of the painting we will speak later.

The Literary department must include courses in advanced Japanese classics and English and French literature. The Science department comprises a small laboratory, not overstocked with apparatus, and a good class-room for experiments. This department has few devotees, as might be expected, and also mathematics, and there is “little Latin and less Greek” in the regular curriculum.

These sparkling-eyed young damsels take mostly to the gentler arts and the gentler paths of learning. Our first visit was to the painting department, as was fitting in a land which is above all things an amateur of art. Here some ten young girls were painting on silk the flowers and butterflies so dear to the Japanese heart. They were fifth-year students and were very clever. The first year’s work hung about on the walls. We looked for still-life subjects and casts, and were told we would find them later, as we did, and some good work in oil, and were told that animals and more ambitious subjects were attempted by these embryo Rosa Bonheurs. The work was about on a level technically, without being as original, as similar work of the same age at home.

The gong struck for the end of a forty-five minutes’ period as we left these rooms and the girls rushed out to the playground with all the excitement of such times at home. The playground is much too small. It had a tennis court where the girls were striking wildly at a tethered ball, an amusement they seemed much to enjoy. There is a fine gymnasium with the omnipresent piano, and here the marching and physical exercises are practised. The kindergarten department playground has piles of sand for the little folks, and they begin their engineering and their landscape gardening in the bright sunshine there. In the halls we saw two ping-pong tables, and certainly the physical side of the young ladies’ training is not neglected. The auditorium is spacious, and here are held the overflow recitations occasionally. We saw a class in ethics file in, their faces alive with youth and happiness, a charming ethical picture! As we were passing one door a group of these eager beings emerged, and our guide informed us that the tall young lady was Admiral Togo’s daughter.