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CHAPTER IV
TAINAN: THE ANCIENT CAPITAL
Visit to a girls' school—Education in Formosa—Mission schools— Fort Provintia—The lantern painter—Anping—Its former activities —The remains of Fort Zeelandia—Old British Consulate—Early English trade—Salt-making—Salt a Government monopoly—A present from the Governor—We dine in Japanese fashion with Koshimura— He tells a story—A stroll round the town—We startle the inhabitants.
§ 1 WEleft the shrine of Koxinga dreaming in the morning sunlight and were then taken to inspect a school for Japanese girls, as Koshimura (whom by this time I fear we had come to call 'Kosh' between ourselves) anticipated that it would be of particular interest to my wife.
The school was an imposing-looking building of red brick, constructed on Western lines. We were received by the Principal, who escorted us round.
One of the things that interested me most was the bathroom, where there was a large tiled bath, in which all the pupils bathed together ; they do not, of course, worry about anything so unnecessary as 'costumes ' and bathe as nature made them. As the Principal explained (rather apologetically, I thought), Japanese conventions in these matters differ from ours, but I am not at all sure that they are any the less sensible. At any rate, they tend (I imagine) to banish prudery and false modesty. Or rather would do so if such things ever entered a Japanese maiden 's mind, which, owing to the method of her upbringing, I doubt.
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Instead of dormitories there were little rooms, in each of which slept three girls. We were shown some of the class-rooms, where our presence caused what was probably a welcome diversion to the pupils and, I expect, thoroughly distracted them for the rest of the morning. In one room a Japanese writing-lesson was going on, the characters being written most beautifully with brushes. In another some of the older girls were being taught etiquette and deportment; each had to come forward and practise bowing gracefully, a ceremony which still plays a great part in Japanese life. It was rather like a class of debutantes being taught to curtsey before attending a Court.
In the last class-room we visited, an English reading-lesson was in progress, and for our special benefit one poor damsel was called out by the master and made to read. We would gladly have spared her the ordeal, for she had a dreadful attack of nerves and was covered with confusion. We left her amidst the titters of her companions, with her face, scarlet with blushes, buried in her book. In their kimonos and obis, bright as butterflies' wings, they all looked like little beings out of fairyland, and it seemed a cruel thing that they should have to sit for hours at desks of deal poring over English 1 readers.'
§ 2
The Japanese pay much attention to education in Formosa, as they do everywhere else in the Empire, and there are over nine hundred schools of various descriptions in the island. Before the coming of the Japanese, State schools were unknown and, with the exception of that given by the foreign Missions, edu-THE SPREAD OF EDUCATION 93 cation was confined to the children of those who could afford to pay for it. Even then it consisted of little more than reading the books of Mencius and Confucius or memorizing legendary stories; there was to be obtained no modern training by means of which a student might equip himself for a useful post in commerce or public life.
When the Japanese took over the island they found that the majority of the population, apart even from the aborigines, was unable to read or write, and they lost no time in establishing schools for the teaching of the Japanese language. If they hoped to win over the people to accept their rule, one cannot but feel that this was not the right way to set about it. The Formosans were of direct Chinese descent; they had all the intense conservatism of their race, all the mistrust of innovations. The result was that they looked upon the education offered by the Japanese with suspicion ; they had no desire for their children to learn to read and write Japanese, and consequently refused to send them to school. However, right or wrong, 'assimilation' has always been the guiding principle of the Japanese in dealing with subject races, and their methods prevailed. The inhabitants gradually came to see the advantages of securing a good education for their offspring, and of course other subjects besides Japanese were taught. In many of the schools not only was education free, but the students' living expenses were paid as well. The State paid the salaries of the teachers and all other expenses were borne by the rates, but, to avoid any grievances on the part of the ratepayers, schools were, to begin with, only established in areas where the consent of the inhabitants had been obtained. At the same time a large number of the old-fashioned Chinese schools were allowed to 94 TAINAN: THE ANCIENT CAPITAL
continue for the accommodation of parents who preferred still to cling to more conservative methods.
The population of Formosa is nearly four millions, and the inhabitants are divided into four classes: the Japanese, who number about 175,000; the Formosans, the descendants of the original settlers and usually of pure Chinese stock but occasionally with an admixture of native blood, numbering 3,500,000; the aborigines, or 'savages' as Koshimura and his other brother-officers always called them, of whom there are approximately 130,000; and some 28,000 'foreigners,' among whom are included all Chinese who are not Japanese citizens by birth or domicile.
The present educational system is adapted to meet the requirements of each class. For the Japanese there are Commercial Schools, Middle Schools, and 'Normal' Schools, native teachers being trained in the latter; in addition to these there are specialist training establishments for agriculture, forestry, and medicine; there are technical schools, and high schools for the girls. For the Formosans there are also commercial and specialist schools; there are twenty-four industrial schools as well as five hundred State schools for elementary education which have nearly 175,000 pupils. In 1922 the Formosan Education Ordinance was revised and the principle of joint education for Japanese and Formosans established, all differential treatment being abolished. In practice, however, separate education is bound to continue, especially in the primary schools, until the knowledge of the Japanese language becomes more prevalent. Where the children of one race are ignorant of the language of the other, joint education is obviously impracticable.
In addition to the State schools there are two hundred private establishments with a total of 7,000 MISSION SCHOOLS 95
pupils; these are gradually dying out as modern education spreads, for twenty years ago there were over a thousand of them, and it says something for Japanese tolerance that they are allowed to remain.
There are also thirty schools for the aborigines, nearly 5,000 of whom are being educated at the present time: of these there will be more to say in a subsequent chapter.
The number of schools in the island is an interesting example of the progressive methods of the Japanese, who have built up this extensive system of education in less than thirty years. At the same time it must not be forgotten that the missionary schools, which were founded in the days of the Chinese administration, still flourish. There are two Protestant Missions in the island, one, the English Presbyterian Mission, at Tainan, and the other, the Canadian Presbyterian Mission, at Taihoku and Tamsui.
The Presbyterian missionaries were the pioneers of education in Formosa, and before the Japanese occupation the Mission schools were the only institutions in the island which provided instruction on modern lines. The English Presbyterian Mission was established in 1865. In the early days a number of elementary schools were maintained, but these have been gradually closed, owing to the Japanese having organized their own, and there is now only a Middle (or secondary) School, the new building of which was opened in 1916. It occupies a site of 11 acres outside the East Gate of Tainan City and has accommodation for 180 boarders. The original aim of this school was to give a general secondary education to students who would afterwards pass through the Theological College at Tainan. Its scope, however, was soon enlarged, and the sons of all Christian 96 TAINAN: THE ANCIENT CAPITAL
Formosans were welcomed. For a long time the Japanese had no secondary schools for Formosans and a number of non-Christian pupils were received ; the latter now predominate, the decrease in the number of Christian boys attending being due, it is said, to the steady rise in fees. The religious purpose of the school, however, remains unchanged.
Education is based on Christian principles, the Bible is taught in school hours, and all pupils attend church on Sundays. The need for a 'conscience clause' has not arisen. No compulsion is brought to bear on pupils to become Christians, and in the event of a non-Christian boy wishing to be baptized, his parents ' consent must first be obtained. Applicants for the first-year class must have passed through the Government elementary schools. The curriculum, the number of subjects taught, and the text-books used are the same as those in use in other Middle Schools in Japan. The teaching is carried on in the Japanese language, with the exception of the Bible and a certain amount of Chinese classics, which are taught in Formosan.
The school has not yet received Government recognition, and therefore pupils are not allowed to compete for entrance to the Government High Schools and colleges on the same terms as boys from Government Middle Schools. To obtain recognition a more highly qualified staff and better equipment are re- quired, and the Mission is working to this end. The school is maintained by fees received from the pupils, the annual charges per head being £16, including tuition, board, food, and games, and by a small grant from the Presbyterian Church of England, which also pays the salaries of the two educational missionaries. No aid is received from the Formosan Government. THE THEOLOGICAL COLLEGE 97
The present Theological College is in the Mission compound and was opened in 1903. The building was the gift of a gentleman in England, who gave a donation of £1,000 for the purpose, and has accommodation for 28 students. Its aim is to fit young men to be instructors of the congregations scattered over the island, and as education has spread the scope of the course, which lasts four years, has been made more comprehensive. The college, of which the Rev. Thomas Barclay, who has worked in Formosa since 1875, is the Principal, is supported by the Presbyterian Church of England, with a small annual grant from the Chinese Church.
The Mission also has a Girls' School with 165 pupils. This provides elementary and secondary education for the daughters of Christians and others.
It is registered under the new Japanese regulations as a High School and has recently been moved to a new building, half the cost of which was met by the Formosans themselves. The income derived from fees does not cover the total expenditure and the deficit is made up by the Women's Missionary Association of the Presbyterian Church of England, which established the school in 1887.
In addition to this there is a "Women's Bible School, which was opened in 1895 for the purpose of giving a simple knowledge of the Bible to women who have had no previous education whatever. The women are taught to read and write the romanized text of the Formosan (Amoy vernacular) language, and the more promising of them are trained as Biblewomen for the Churches. The number varies between ten and forty, and there is no fixed course, but a very useful work is being carried on among a class of people who would otherwise be ignorant and superstitious.
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The first school of the Canadian Presbyterian Mission was founded at Tamsui by the pioneer missionary, Dr. Mackay, in 1882. One section of the school was devoted to theological training, and in 1914 this was moved to Taihoku and established as a separate institution, the remainder being recognized as the Tamsui Middle School. Now that the Government regulations require that all schools must accept both Japanese and Formosans without distinction, the Mission is obliged to provide equipment and teaching of as high a grade as that of Government schools to obtain pupils. This is being done, and the Tamsui Middle School now has a magnificent gymnasium, to give facilities for exercise during the wet winter months, and plans are being drawn up for new class-rooms and dormitories.
The Mission also has a flourishing Girls' School, founded in 1907. Hitherto it has catered for Formosan girls only, but will, in accordance with the new regulations, admit Japanese girls also.
The results of all these schools have been highly successful, and the Tainan Mission, as well as offering the ordinary educational advantages for its converts, had, for several years before the coming of the Japanese, a special school for the blind, instituted by the Rev. William Campbell. This undertaking was so successful and so highly thought of by the Japanese themselves that the Mission was able to induce the Formosan Government to take it over, and it is now controlled by the Educational Department. The medical work of these Missions deserves special mention. The English Presbyterian Mission has a splendid hospital at Tainan and another at the town of Shoka, while the Canadian Mission has one at Taihoku. All these hospitals have British doctors in charge. \=> Q 6j |z; O o c Ko H H paW R A CHINESE TEMPLE 99
In addition to these Protestant missionaries, men and women who give their lives of unremitting toil and devotion to the people amongst whom they labour, there are the Spanish Catholics, the headquarters of whose mission is at Takao; other stations are to be found throughout the island. The subject of foreign Missions is always food for controversy, but even those who view Missions with disfavour cannot but allow the earnestness and singlemindedness of these Dominican Fathers, who receive no more than the barest allowance to suffice them for their every need.
§3
After leaving the little maidens to their interrupted lessons we were taken by Koshimura to see a temple dedicated to Confucius. It had a massive door and noble gateway, as if built for a giant, in that generous style which the Chinese have brought to perfection. In little side-chambers—vestries, I suppose one might call them—on either side of the quiet courtyard was a wonderful collection of musical instruments used in religious processions. The quaintest of all was a set of white marble tubes of different sizes arranged so as to give varying tones when struck. They reminded me of the rows of bottles on which tunes are played, and I present the marble-tube idea to some enterprising bottle artist who is anxious to break out upon the long-suffering music-hall public on new lines.
A photograph was taken of the temple, and then we climbed through narrow winding streets up to what had once been the Dutch Fort Provintia, or Red Hair Fort, as it was called by the Chinese in remembrance of the foreigners who built it. It stands on 100 TAINAN: THE ANCIENT CAPITAL
a fine site overlooking the town, but little save the old red-brick foundations remain to-day. The Chinese built a temple to the Goddess of the Sea on these foundations, and this, Koshimura told us, was then being restored by the Formosan Government; in consequence the whole place was alive with shouting masons and busy bricklayers, and we were glad to escape without getting anything on our heads.
On the way back to the car we passed a lantern shop. We had been surprised to find electric light at the inn, and this seemed a pleasant change from the influence of the West. A lantern shop ! Could anything be more attractive ! Full, not of the crude and flimsy Japanese lanterns so familiar to us in England, but of lanterns nobly proportioned, as big as pumpkins. On a low stool a man bent over one as he painted great Chinese characters in black upon it. Against the dim background of his shop and with the lanterns bobbing like balloons above his head he made a picture. "The camera," we said.
Unfortunately the painter's shop was too dark to photograph him as he crouched, intent upon his art.
Here, I thought, the ever-obliging Koshimura would come to the rescue and, having with a few words tactfully obtained the artist's permission for the picture to be taken, gently induce him to move his stool out into the sunlight. But Koshimura did nothing of the kind. He had complacently stood upon the steps of the Temple of Confucius half an hour before and had been photographed himself, but now he raised unexpected objections. The Formosans, said he, disliked being photographed; they believed that if you took their likeness they came to an early and untimely end.
Now, the camera is too recent an invention for any semi-civilized person to have deeply rooted religious THE LANTERN PAINTER 101 prejudices against it, so while Koshimura was doing the polite but heavy obstructionist with my wife, I pretended not to hear, and by means of a little pantomime (in which a few coins took a leading part) I persuaded the painter to shift out into the light and then resume his good work. He seemed to have no presage of impending dissolution, and the photograph was taken in the presence of a wide-eyed and gaping crowd which had by this time collected, the slightly disgruntled Koshimura standing in the background. I felt it was rather churlish to go against Koshimura 's wishes when he was doing so much for us. But then it was going to be such a splendid picture. And the pity of it was that after all our trouble the thing was not a great success. Anyhow, I hope I did not shorten the artist's life, for one day I mean to start a lantern shop in Sloane Street and I shall fetch him from Formosa and let him do his painting in the window. If one day you see a large crowd collected on the pavement somewhere north of Pont Street, you may be fairly cer- tain that we have begun.
After paying a brief visit to the market, which seemed to consist mainly of butchers, and failing (somewhat to our relief) to get into the Museum, which was closed, we went to see the shrine of Prince Kitashirakawa, erected on the spot where H.I.H.
died, on October 28, 1895, during the campaign against the so-called Formosan Republic. Then we returned to the inn, to find that the Governor had returned my call. Mr. Sakakibara said that His Excellency wished to entertain us that evening and that we were to be invited either to a dinner-party or a dancing performance—it had not been decided which. Remembering that the Governor could not 102 TAINAN: THE ANCIENT CAPITAL
(or would not) speak English, we hoped that it might be the latter.
We were not allowed much rest, for at two o 'clock Sakakibara appeared again with the car and took us by a vile road (alongside which ran a trolley line for 'push-cars') to Anping, the ancient stronghold of the Dutch, the one-time headquarters of Koxinga, and the decaying port of Tainan. The harbour, never deep and in reality little more than an open roadstead, has silted up so as to become unnavigable, and all vessels but those of shallow draught have to lie off a mile from the shore. The waste of mud flats, where three hundred years ago the Dutch squadrons rode at anchor, presented a dreary spectacle. Even Fort Zeelandia, over whose battlements the blood-flag had floated defiantly for eight months, was as depressing as the rest ; it lies neglected, with crumbling walls, from one of which grows a great banyan tree, its strange roots twisting among the bricks.
Like an old man who has lost his vigour, Anping has little to live upon but memories. As well aa its historical associations with the Dutch and with Koxinga, it was in years gone by the scene of the spasmodic effort of the British to found a colony and, later, the situation of the British Consulate, which was transferred from Takao when the small community of British merchants moved on account of the harbour silting up. Anping had the advantage of being near Tainan, the southern metropolis, but now that Takao has harbour works it has ousted Anping from the position of the leading port of the south. The British colonies in both towns are gone, never, in all probability, to return. Koshimura pointed out to us the Consulate, which was abandoned in 1910. It was in the style of foreign houses SALT MAKING 103
in China, with verandas on every side. It was built of red brick, and its desolate appearance looked in keeping with the tumble-down houses all around. It is said that the chief occupation of the British Consul at Anping used to be killing mosquitoes, and I can well believe it. M As we poked about the ruins of the Fort two police officers suddenly appeared and saluted us. Koshimura seemed, for some reason, rather displeased at this and apparently resented their intrusion, but cards were exchanged. Then, accompanied by our new guides, we set off to see the salt-making, which is the staple industry of Anping.
First we visited a salt-factory, where the sea-water was being evaporated in iron pans over furnaces and the resulting salt crystallized and purified by machinery. These up-to-date methods are, however, comparatively new to the island; side by side with them we were able to see the old-fashioned way by which the Formosans have procured salt for centuries and the means by which they procure the bulk of it still. The wide expanses of mud-flats had been split up into small rectangular divisions enclosed by low embankments and paved with tiles. Into these shallow vats the sea-water is admitted by means of sluice-gates, each vat connecting with its neighbour.
Here the process of evaporation begins, but to obtain the finished salt the water is run off into series of crystallization basins and is allowed to remain for eight or ten hours. The sun is the chief agent relied on, consequently the labour required is small and the salt can be produced cheaply. We were just in time to see the contents of some of the basins being swept 104 TAINAN: THE ANCIENT CAPITAL up into heaps by coolies, much in the same manner as snow is swept up in a London street.
The salt industry in Formosa dates back for nearly three centuries. During the Dutch occupation no salt was allowed to be made, as it was imported from Batavia and retailed to the inhabitants at a large profit—a good instance of the narrow policy of the East India Company. Koxinga, however, had the interests of the island itself at heart, and decided to make Formosa self-supporting. He therefore instituted and encouraged the manufacture of salt, and as the extensive low-lying lands along the western coast were particularly suited to his designs, the industry flourished.
During the Chinese regime salt was made a Government monopoly; this was abolished when the Japanese gained possession of the island, but so ac- customed had the manufacturers become to the working of the monopoly and to the selling of their salt to one customer—the Government—that they did not take kindly to finding a number of customers who were often difficult to reach and not always reliable in the matter of payment. A crisis in the industry arose, and in consequence the Japanese thought it prudent to re-establish the monopoly, though on slightly different lines, and, to encourage the manufacture, granted land free in certain cases. This monopoly is still in force. The industry is open to private enterprise, but official permission has to be obtained before a salt-farm may be opened, and this permission is only granted to Japanese subjects.
All the salt produced has to be sold to the Government at a fixed price. The Government then sells supplies to the Formosan Salt-Selling Association, which retails them to the actual consumers, but the retail price, as well as the buying price, is also fixed THE SALT MONOPOLY 105
and controlled by the Government Monopoly Bureau.
The monopoly question is always a vexed one. The granting of monopolies to firms or private individuals, a practice which is occasionally followed, for instance, by governing Chartered Companies, is, as a general rule, a confession of weakness. It forbids all competition and is usually to be deprecated.
It is the last resort to get a country or an industry exploited. There is no doubt that if it is considered desirable to establish a monopoly, it is much better that it should be in the hands of the State rather than in the hands of private individuals ; at the same time, it is only in unexploited and undeveloped countries that monopolies are justifiable at all. In Formosa the Japanese have thought fit to establish State monopolies over opium, camphor, tobacco, and, since 1922, over the sale of alcohol and alcoholic liquors (except beer), as well as over salt, so that the sugar, tea, and rice are the only important industries left uncontrolled.
The system has its advantages up to a certain point. In the case of salt, for example, the small native farmer is assured of a sale ; he is enabled to obtain a fair price for his produce when he might be ex- ploited by money-lenders, as the sugar-planters were in the days of the Chinese. On the other hand, the consumer has to pay two middle-men, the Government and the Selling Association—and consequently a higher price than he might otherwise pay; for although prices would go up at first if Government control were removed, the competition which would be the natural result of allowing many buyers instead of one into the field would soon bring them to a lower level. However, in this particular case the added cost to the consumer is not great, and the 106 TAINAN: THE ANCIENT CAPITAL
enormous increases in the amount of salt manufactured in the past few years show that the industry is prospering and not declining or even standing still. This, surely, must be the test of every monopoly.
If it cramps an industry, away with it. If it expands it, makes for more employment and increased trade, then let it stay, anyhow in a country where private enterprise is not likely to be great. Since they came to Formosa the Japanese have carefully fostered the salt industry; they have assisted the farmers, have protected their interests, and have improved the quality of the salt turned out, so that the amount produced annually has increased from 60,000,000 lb.
in 1900 to 200,000,000 lb. in 1922. Formosa is now self-supporting in the matter of salt and in 1922 ex- ported in addition over 132,000,000 lb., wholly to Japan and Korea. There is still plenty of room for expansion of the industry, particularly on the west coast, and it is hoped that in time Japan herself may be able to depend entirely on Formosa for her salt imports.
From the point of view of the growing prosperity of the industry, therefore, the Formosan Government has reason to congratulate itself, and no less a matter for congratulation is the fact that in direct revenue alone the salt monopoly brings in £200,000 annually.
The activities of the Monopoly Bureau in connexion with opium, camphor, and tobacco will be discussed later. 1
§ 5
To save a long walk back to the car we were ferried across a narrow creek in an extraordinary vessel which seemed to have been bred by a sampan out of a 1 See pp. 185 et seq. SALT-MAKING AT ANTING
103
'BRED BY A SAMPAN OUT OF A TUFT.' A HYBRID CRAFT 107
raft. For want of a better word I will call it a catamaran, though it was really a class above a real catamaran, which simply consists of three logs tied together, the middle log being longer than the others.
Our craft was built of hollow bamboos, lashed together and curved at either end ; it had a mast and a sail of brown matting; it was propelled from the stern by means of one long oar, and since the bamboo deck was always awash, a green wooden tub was thoughtfully provided for passengers to sit or stand in as they chose. I have come across some crazy means of navigating the deep in my time, but never one crazier than this. Yet these are the only fishing-boats in use along the coast and sail far out to sea, in spite of the suddenness and violence of the storms which make the Formosan Strait the bane of mariners.
Having found the car, we bumped back to Tainan at a Brooklands pace, breaking our journey to buy a model of the hybrid craft at a native shop. Then we went for a drive round the park. Every Japanese town, however small, has at least one park, and everyone is always very proud of it. The park of Tainan is (so I gathered from a 'folder' printed in English by the enterprising Japan Tourist Bureau) the largest and finest in the island. To us the absence of the iron railings and odd scraps of paper which disfigure our own parks lent it charm : the Japanese and Formosans, it would seem, are too well disciplined to need the former and to have too much feeling for the beautiful to scatter the latter indiscriminately about a landscape.
Soon after our return to the inn, it was announced that the bath was ready. Koshimura, slightly embarrassed, approached my wife and with his head on one side explained diffidently that Japanese baths 108 TAINAN: THE ANCIENT CAPITAL were very different from ours and that everyone used the same water.
"So please not to soap yourself in it," he said.
My wife, relieved to find that anyhow she was being allowed to have the first dip, promised faithfully to observe the custom of the country, but when she got to the bathroom she found the water so hot that until she had acclimatized herself to the temperature she couldn't get in. But women always seem to be able to bear both water and drink hotter than men can, and when my turn came, having scalded one foot, I found I couldn't get in at all. As there was no sign of any cold water, the bath being a cement tank filled by a pipe from a cistern (or boiler), I finished my bath with the aid of an enamel basin, in which I managed to cool a little water as some people will cool hot tea by pouring it in a saucer.
I mention these rather intimate details because assuredly one half of the world does not know how the other half bathes. For example, one of the first shocks that everyone gets when he goes out East for the first time is having to stand on a cement bathroom floor and pour water over himself from a Shanghai jar with a tin dipper. The Japanese bath, once one accustoms oneself, as in self-defence one has to do, to the heat of the water (I managed to get some cold in mine the next night), has its attractions, for the heat folds you in its arms and you feel that you never want to get out into the cold world again. There is no spot on earth more divinely suited to thinking in than a hot bath, and no one has ever embodied this truth more perfectly than Mr.
Logan Pearsall Smith in his More Trivia: "I was late for breakfast this morning, for I had been delayed in my heavenly hot bath by the thought THE PSYCHOLOGY OF BATHS 109
of all the other Earnest Thinkers, who, at that very moment—I had good reason to believe it—were blissfully soaking the time away in hot baths all over London." The only thing that drives one down to breakfast under such circumstances is that the water eventually begins to get cold; but in Japan it never does, so that there is all the more time for thought.
Perhaps this is what has made the Japanese the nation they are. One can picture them soaking in their cement baths for hours from 5 p.m. onwards, thinking out schemes for the betterment of the Empire. Nowadays I never read of a new achievement of Japan but I feel that the statesman responsible must have been having an extra ten minutes in his bath or that his water must have been made a couple of degrees hotter than usual. Everyone gets his brain-waves in his own particular way —either in hot baths, or whilst brushing his hair, or whilst shaving. The dullest man I ever knew was one who habitually had a cold bath and got his valet to brush his hair and shave him. He never gave his mind a chance. Nobody ever got an inspiration from a cold bath—he would always be too intent on getting out—but it seems to me that a nation that makes a hobby of hot baths has found the royal road to greatness. Without their hot baths the Japanese might have never become a first-class Power.
On my return from my lick and promise, clad in the cotton kimono with which, as well as slippers, every Japanese inn thoughtfully provides one, I found Koshimura in a state of agitation. The Mayor of Tainan had called and left a card. I said that I saw no cause for distress; on the contrary, it was very polite of him, and I was sorry I had been trying 110 TAINAN: THE ANCIENT CAPITAL
to have a bath. Koshimura, however, refused to be calmed. He had forgotten to trot me round to shoot my card at the Mayor first. I assented then that it was a bad business, but I was far too comfortable in my kimono to feel inclined to take to the streets again before dinner, so we compromised by agreeing to get Sakakibara, whom Koshimura was ex- pecting with news of the evening's programme, to leave the necessary cards for me next morning. When Sakakibara arrived, he brought with him a letter in Japanese from the Governor. Translated, the purport of it was that the entertainment in our honour was off, as His Excellency had been called away into the country on urgent business ; he sent us his apologies and begged my wife to accept as a token of his goodwill a Japanese basket. This Sakakibara handed over with some ceremony. It was beautifully made, a product, we were told, of the local prison, with a hinged lid and a smaller basket of similar design inside. Koshimura volunteered the information that it was worth at least 60 yen ; but although we rather doubted this statement, we did not appreciate the gift any the less : it seemed such a graceful act of kindness, so typical of the spirit we met everywhere we went. Moreover, it proved invaluable as a receptacle for the endless odds and ends we accumulated on the way home, and later, in chilly Suffolk, our Siamese cat, who feels the cold intensely, used to make it his nightly bed, getting with the lid shut a really good froust up such as delights his heart.
% 6
The Governor's reception having been abandoned, we dined with Koshimura', sitting on, little cushions upon the matted floor. Both 'foreign' and Japanese JAPANESE DISHES 111
food was produced, but the latter was too much for us, although we made valiant efforts. Even the rice, served from spotless wooden buckets by the waiting maidens, was not cooked dry as we have it with curry in the East and (to our taste) was wet and Bticky. The chief dish consisted of slices of raw fish which, Koshimura said, everyone in Japan, from the Emperor to peasant, eats at every meal. I tried some and felt (but did not say so) that the Emperor was welcome to my share. For this, together with the strange vegetables and stranger sauces and the cold soft-boiled eggs (all served on a tray in little separate dishes), is undoubtedly an acquired taste.
Unfortunately we did not stay in the island long enough to acquire it. It is very humiliating to be so utterly a slave to convention that one cannot appreciate, or at least adapt oneself, to other people's perfectly good food, but there it is. Frankly, I had no idea (before I tried it) that an ordinary hen's egg could be so extraordinarily nasty as it is when cold and soft-boiled. Cold hard-boiled, yes; hot softboiled, yes ; but cold soft-boiled, emphatically no. During dinner I tried to pick up a few useful Japanese phrases from Koshimura, and in the course of his lesson he told me a story apropos the words arigato ('thank you') and ohaio ('good morning'). He was once taking about an American, who, having little Japanese, got slightly mixed and kept expressing his thanks by saying "Crocodile, crocodile," but when someone, passing the time of day, said "Ohaio" to him, he turned to Koshimura and asked in astonishment, "Say, how the devil did he know where I was raised?" After dinner we went for a stroll round the town with Koshimura and Sakakibara, who had changed their uniforms and shoes for the more comfortable
/ 112 TAINAN: THE ANCIENT CAPITAL
kimono, tabi, and geta. The streets were thronged with people, most of them in that curious mixture of kimono and cap or bowler hat which is so symbolical of the westernized East to-day. A bowler when worn with an ordinary lounge suit is ugly enough; with a morning coat and brown boots it is an offence, but with a kimono and geta it is an outrage. How people with such an innate sense of the decorative as the Japanese can bear it is quite incomprehensible.
It makes one feel there must be a kink somewhere.
As we walked along we found that we, especially my wife, were provoking intense interest, so uncommon is a white face in Tainan. The eyes of the passers-by seemed almost to start out of their heads when we came upon them suddenly. I have never been so stared at, even in a village of headhunters on the Borneo hills. It was the same at the inn. I don't think the little fairies who waited on us had ever seen a white woman before, and when we got back and my wife started to do a little packing they hurried along the passage to watch, scrutinizing every movement and all her clothes with childlike curiosity. What caught their fancy most was a black Egyptian scarf, shimmering with sequins.
They would obviously have liked the whole box unpacked for their special benefit, but they were so sweet and naive about it all that it was impossible to resent their inquisitiveness, and when the lid was closed they cluttered off with many thanks and smiles and bows and spread our mattresses once more.
And as I dropped off to sleep beneath the draperies of that vast mosquito-net, with new impressions whirling in my mind like petals of cherry-blossom in the wind, I wondered if Koshimura intended to work us as hard every day as he had on the day we had just got through.