THE Old and the New Japan jostle each other at every turn. One day we visited the tomb of the heroic Nogi, who sacrificed his life on the altar of Bushido, and the next we received at the Embassy the pupils of the Tokyo Normal School, who will have so large a share in the continued remodelling of the nation. The Land of the Rising Sun has undergone decided changes within the last fifty years in her desire to make herself the equal of the Great Powers of Christendom; she has been willing to cast aside tradition, to modify her form of government, to adopt Western customs. But none of these things appears to me so vital as the reconstruction of her educational system and the free admission of a new religious belief.

The old system of Japanese education was derived from Chinese models as early as the eighth century, but for many hundred years it was barely kept alive in Buddhist monasteries, and was never fully carried out until the Tokugawa period. The higher institutions were devoted entirely to the study of Chinese history and literature, and their object was chiefly to train efficient servants of the State. Buddhist priests were the usual teachers of the lower classes, but retired samurai often opened elementary schools, such as that pictured so vividly by one of their pupils: [7]

"This primitive school," he says, "consisted of a couple of rooms, where some twenty or thirty boys (and a very few girls), ranging in age from seven to fourteen, spent the forenoon, each reading in turn with the teacher for half an hour some paragraphs from Confucius and Mencius, and devoting the rest of the time to calligraphy. Of the three R's, 'riting demanded the most time and reading but little, 'rithmetic scarcely any, except in a school attended by children of the common people as distinct from those of the samurai. Sons of the samurai class had other curricula than the three R's. They began fencing, jiu-jutsu, spear-practice and horsemanship, when quite young, and usually took these lessons in the early morning. As a child of seven, I remember being roused by my mother before dawn in the winter, and reluctantly, often in positively bad humour, picking my way barefooted through the snow. The idea was to accustom children to hardihood and endurance. There was little fun in the schoolroom, except such as our ingenious minds devised behind our teacher's back."

Yet this primitive system of education trained leaders of sufficient wisdom, unselfishness and breadth of view to guide Japan safely from the old to the new. Okubo and Kido, two members of the embassy that was sent to the treaty powers in 1871, discovered, upon landing in San Francisco, that the very bell-boys and waiters in the hotel understood the issues at stake in the election then going on. This convinced them that nothing but education could enable Japan to hold her own beside the Western world. Okubo said, "We must first educate leaders, and the rest will follow." Kido said, "We must educate the masses; for unless the people are trained, they cannot follow their leaders." Between the two, they got something of both.

The younger generation lost no time in availing themselves of their new privileges, and indeed they are to-day so eager for learning that, after their daily work, many of them sit up the greater part of the night to study. In consequence, they often grow anÆmic, nervous and melancholy.

While the Japanese seem now to have adapted their elementary schools to the needs of their people, they have not been so successful with their secondary schools, called "middle" for boys and "high" for girls. The course of study for boys is much the same as in this country, except that instead of Greek and Latin they have Chinese and Yamato—old Japanese. English occupies six hours a week through the whole five-year course, but is taught only for reading, so that while most educated Japanese can understand some English and have read the classics of our literature, they may not be able to carry on a conversation in our language. In girls' high schools there is a room that might be styled "a laboratory of manners," where pupils have a "course in etiquette, including ceremonial tea and flower arrangement." The certificate of the middle school legally admits a student to the government colleges, but as there are only eight of these institutions in the country, they cannot receive all who apply. Consequently, students must pass a rigid entrance examination. There are four Imperial universities, of which that in Tokyo is the oldest and has about six thousand students, and several private universities, one of which, Waseda, has an enrollment of more than seven thousand.

It did not escape the notice of the wisest leaders that perhaps the weakest point in this new educational system was its lack of moral training, all religious teaching being forbidden in government schools. Accordingly, in 1890, the late Emperor issued the Imperial Rescript on Education, a printed copy of which with the Emperor's autograph is sacredly cherished in every school, and upon which nearly all modern Japanese text-books of ethics are based. The most important part of this document reads as follows:

"Ye, Our subjects, be filial to your parents, affectionate to your brothers and sisters; as husbands and wives be harmonious, as friends true; bear yourselves in modesty and moderation; extend your benevolence to all; pursue learning and cultivate the arts, and thereby develop intellectual faculties and perfect moral powers; furthermore, advance public good and promote common interests; always respect the Constitution and observe the laws; should emergency arise, offer yourselves courageously to the State; and thus guard and maintain the prosperity of Our Imperial Throne, coeval with heaven and earth."

I was much interested in two secondary schools in Tokyo. We had the pleasure of entertaining the graduating class of young men from the Normal School. Professor Swift, who accompanied them, had been teaching in Japan for twenty-five years, having had the present Emperor at one time in his school. He said his students had never been received at the Embassy before, and in fact, he thought none of them had ever been in a European house. There were about forty of the Japanese and one young Chinaman. I think most of them were perhaps about twenty years old. They wore European dress, but the Japanese master came in his native costume. According to their rules of politeness, they gathered about the door, and could scarcely be induced to come in to shake hands with us. When they finally did come, they backed into a corner, and in true Japanese fashion had to be invited three times before they would enter the tea-room.

These students go out through Japan to teach English after they graduate. They did not speak English, however, quite so well as I had expected, but no doubt they were a little frightened, and probably they were more used to such questions as I heard at one school when the teacher read to the class, "Where was Phineas when the mob gathered about the portal?" Our guests enjoyed the mechanical bear and tiger, for, like most people of the East, the Japanese are especially fond of such toys. The students seemed to take interest in the photographs also, and when one asked for music, we started the Victor and allowed them to choose their own records.

Male and female teachers are trained in separate normal schools, which are government institutions. All their expenses—for board, clothing, tuition and books—are met by the State. After a preparatory course of one year, they take the regular course of four years, which covers a very full curriculum. Music, gymnastics, manual training, law and economics form part of this very modern course of study, and commerce and agriculture may be added. English is also included, but made optional. The necessary training in teaching is given in a practice school attached to each normal school. A shorter course of one year is devoted chiefly to the study of methods and practical work. A severe military training is given in the schools for males. Graduates from the regular course are obliged to serve the State as teachers for seven years, and those from the shorter course for two years.

The second school which particularly interested me was Miss Tsuda's. Miss Tsuda herself was one of several Japanese children from good families who, when they were very young, were sent to America to be educated. Three of the girls, it is said, decided at school how they wished to live their lives. One said that above all things she should marry for love and in the Western fashion, and so it was—she met a young Japanese studying in America, and they were married and returned to Japan. The second one said she wished to be a power, and she returned home and in Japanese fashion was married by her parents to a very prominent leader in political life. Miss Tsuda felt that she wished to help her countrywomen, and that she would remain unmarried and devote her life to education. So, curiously enough, these three women have carried out the ideals of their girlhood.

The school for the higher education of Japanese girls which Miss Tsuda has established is practically a post-graduate course, to fit them for teachers. One class that I visited was reading really difficult English—something of George Eliot's. Miss Tsuda herself is a graduate of Bryn Mawr, and speaks most beautiful English—perhaps the most perfect I have heard from any Japanese. The school is supported chiefly, I understand, by people in Philadelphia. I was told that the Bible was taught, but that the study of it was not compulsory, and that many of the girls were Buddhists. These students are from all stations in life.

The outside of the buildings was in Japanese style, but the schoolrooms were like those in America; the pupils sat in chairs and had desks. I inquired why they did not sit on the mats, and Miss Tsuda said they had adopted chairs and desks because the girls felt that on the whole the chairs were more comfortable, and that they could move more quickly. It is thought the race will grow taller if they all learn to use chairs, instead of sitting on their legs as they have always done. The majority of the girls had writing-boxes and books upon the floors of their own rooms, and kept their bedding in a cupboard after the custom of their people, but they were allowed to have chairs if they asked for them. Hanging upon the shoji were Christian mottoes, photographs of their relatives, and in one case a picture of Nogi. European food is given here, as well as Japanese, and our methods of cooking are taught.

These students have modern gymnastic training every day, and they also play baseball, which the old-fashioned Japanese think very unladylike. Every Saturday evening they play games, have charades, and act little plays, both in English and Japanese.

On a previous visit, some years ago, L. had gone over the Imperial University with Professor Yoshida. At that time Tokyo University and the Engineering College had lately been amalgamated. He said it seemed strange, coming from an American university, to see the complete neglect of what we call classics, Latin and Greek. All the modern sciences, medicine, the 'ologies and law were studied in English, German and French.

One department, the seismic, established especially for the separate study of volcanic disturbances and earthquakes, was then peculiar to this university. It is particularly interesting to the Japanese, for they are constantly experiencing such disturbances—the late eruption in the province of Satsuma is a hint that results might be still more serious.

In the art schools in Tokyo, which we visited, we saw the students painting and carving in their peculiar, painstaking way.

An American teacher, who is not herself a missionary but has lived with missionaries in Japan for some time, and whom I consider an impartial judge, has given me her opinions on educational matters, including the work of the mission schools. The Japanese need, she feels, both moral and commercial instruction of the kind that only Western teachers can give. This teaching should be well given by the mission schools. At first, as in Korea, these schools were the only sources of Western thought, so they were frequented by all the Japanese who wished for any sort of progress. Everything was gobbled down hungrily. Even if they were not religiously inclined, they pretended to be, for this was their only means of learning English.

At the present time, the government schools teach Western branches, but they are hampered by a narrow-minded educational board with antiquated methods, and tied up by miles of red tape, so that their teaching of Western studies is away behind the times. We might consider the English heard all over Japan a fair sample of the superficiality that prevails, but, to be impartial, we must take into account the difficulties that have to be overcome by students and teachers. Because of the ideographs and other peculiarities of their own tongue, it is far more difficult for the Japanese to learn English than for us to learn French or German.

Government schools are superior in Japanese branches—they teach Japanese and Chinese classics and ethics, Japanese law and ideals better than the mission schools—and certificates from them give better positions, so ambitious Japanese go to them, but in Western subjects they try to do too many things. The students work only for examinations, not for really substantial progress. This is noticeable, except in rare individuals, who would probably progress under any conditions. The best Japanese educators realize this as well as the foreigners and greatly deplore it.

The reason that some of the mission schools are not so good as they might be is that they are too much occupied with proselyting, and hardly give more than superficial training to students. It would be better for the Japanese in the end if more real educators were sent out rather than so many preachers. If the mission schools would combine in having Japanese teachers for Japanese subjects, there could be concentration of effort and expense.

There is also a crying need, my friend says, of schools for foreign children, because there are no good ones in Japan, and it is expensive to send the boys and girls to America or Europe. An international foreign language school, too, is much needed. The ignorance of foreign tongues is one of the greatest barriers to amicable relations with other countries. The inscrutability of the Japanese, which we hear so much about, is due principally to their lack of familiarity with languages.

To understand the religious situation in Japan at all, it is necessary to take another backward glance over her history. Except during the two hundred and fifty years of the Tokugawa Period, the country has always been open to foreigners and foreign ideas. Chinese and Koreans, who brought new religions, a new civilization and a new philosophy, were gladly received. Young men from Japan sought learning in other countries, even in distant India. So, when Francis Xavier and his intrepid Jesuits made their way thither in the sixteenth century, they found a cordial welcome awaiting them.

For fifty years Christian work went on; hundreds of thousands of Japanese accepted the Roman Catholic faith. But the Roman Church claims to be superior to the State, and the rulers of Japan saw reason to believe that the priests were aiming at political power. At once they reversed their former policy, branded Christianity as "Ja-kyo," the "Evil Way," and set about its extermination. Thousands of converts laid down their lives for the new faith in the terrible persecution that followed; foreigners were driven out of Japan, and her own people were forbidden to leave her shores.

After the "Long Sleep" of the Tokugawa Period, the Meiji Era, known as the "Awakening," began in 1867. Once more Christianity was brought in, but this time in the guise of Protestantism, and again it made rapid progress. By the middle of the eighties some Japanese leaders of opinion were even advising that it should be declared the national religion, although this was largely for political reasons. However, full religious liberty was granted in 1889.

In the early nineties came the reaction. The conservative element in the nation began to make itself heard against the mad rush for new things. Japanese students returning from abroad brought stories of vice and crime in Christian lands. The Japanese began to discover, too, that the standard of Christian ethics was a higher one than they had ever known, and demanded a change of life as well as of belief, and that the diplomacy of so-called Christian countries was often anything but Christian. So those who had simply "gone with the crowd" into the Christian ranks fell away. The churches were sifted.

This revulsion of feeling was not lasting. Gradually the Japanese came to modify their conclusions. Those who remained in the churches did so from conviction, and a stronger church was the result. In this period of reaction Japan simply stopped to take breath, to adjust itself to the new life upon which it had entered. Progress now may be slower, but it is more substantial.

The missionary question is absorbing, if one has time to see what has been done and what is being done now in the schools and kindergartens and hospitals, although to-day these Christian teachers are not playing so important a rÔle as they did a few years ago. At first the Japanese went to the foreigners as their advisers and teachers, but now that they have travelled more and know more of Western ideas they do not need them so much. Six hundred thousand dollars goes yearly from America to Japan for missions. Japan is a poor country, but some people feel it is time for the rich men there to come forward and contribute to their own charities, rather than to let foreigners do so large a share. I feel that there is more need of missionaries in China to-day, especially medical missionaries.

Fifty years ago there was desperate need of medical missionaries in Japan. When Dr. Hepburn opened his dispensary in a Buddhist temple at Kanagawa, diseased beggars were very common on the streets, for hospitals were unknown. Now there are over one thousand public hospitals managed by Japanese doctors, who are well fitted for their profession—some have been educated in Germany and are very skilful.

As there are natural hot springs in Japan, lepers in the early stages of the disease go there in the hope of being cured, but as a cure is not possible, they gradually become worse and cannot leave the country, so one often sees them begging in the streets. The only beggars I have ever seen in Japan have been victims of leprosy.

Up to 1907 there were no hospitals for lepers except those founded by foreign missionaries. In that year the Government established five of these institutions, but as they are always crowded, the poor sufferers cannot be received unless they are very ill. Father Testevinde, a French Catholic priest, founded the first private hospital for lepers—which is still the largest—in 1889. Miss Riddell, an Englishwoman, has established another, which she is now trying to enlarge.

Eye troubles are especially prevalent in Japan, but the blind earn their living by massage, and the note of their flute is often heard in the street. There is a great deal of tuberculosis, but there are no sanatoriums for consumptives, who are taken into the regular hospitals. As the sufferers are kept in their homes until the last stages, the disease is spreading rapidly.

It is very common to see children afflicted with skin-diseases. Japanese mothers believe that inborn wickedness comes out in this form. Since they no longer shave the children's heads as in the old days, however, the skin trouble is disappearing somewhat. Well-organized dispensaries and district nurses are certainly much needed in out-of-the-way villages, but no provision has as yet been made for such work. Midwives, however, are to be found.

The Episcopal hospital in Tokyo, where Japanese women are taught nursing, is supposed to be the best in the country. Dr. Teusler is doing excellent work there. The Japanese hospitals are not so well managed as the best foreign ones, and the training for women nurses is not so long or so thorough as in America. It is difficult for foreigners to judge their hospitals, because they are intended for Japanese patients and their whole manner of living is so different from ours. At first, on account of native customs, only the poorer class of women could be induced to take up nursing as a profession, but to-day the better class are engaging in it.

In no branch of medical work has Japan made greater progress or achieved finer results than in the Red Cross. In 1877 the Hakuaisha was formed—the Society of Universal Love—which cared for the wounded in the great civil war. Japan joined the European Red Cross League in 1887.

The Japanese Red Cross was finely organized for service during the war with Russia. The first work was the care of the Russian sailors at Chemulpo, who were even presented with artificial limbs by the Empress of Japan. During the war six thousand sick and wounded Russian prisoners were cared for by the Japanese. In return the Russians subscribed to the Japanese Red Cross. The women nurses remained at home stations, all relief detachments at the front consisting of men only, but on the relief ships there were both sexes. An American nurse who was in Japan during the war said we had many things to learn from the Japanese and few to teach, in the way of handling the wounded.

The pamphlet called, "The Red Cross in the Far East," states that if a member dies, his hair or his ashes with the death certificate and his personal belongings shall be forwarded to his former quarters.

The Red Cross in Japan numbers now more than one million five hundred thousand members, has twelve hospitals and two hospital ships, and nearly four thousand doctors, apothecaries and nurses ready for service. On her first voyage, the hospital ship Kosai Maru, was out from March, 1904, until December, 1905, and transported more than thirteen thousand patients. There are Red Cross stations also in Formosa and Port Arthur. The Empress Dowager often attended the meetings of the society, and assisted with large contributions. The Japanese Red Cross is said to be the largest, the best and the richest in the world.

RED CROSS HOSPITAL BUILDINGS.