Speaking of pupils reminds me that just as you keep me from follies, or mischief, by a bit of sound advice at times,--not to say by other means,--so here I have learned to be guided by K.'s mamma. Indeed, no Occidental-born could manage a purely Japanese household, or direct Japanese according to his own light. Things are so opposite, so eccentric, so provoking at times,--so impossible to understand. A foreign merchant, for example, cannot possibly manage his own Japanese clerks--he must trust their direction to a Japanese head clerk. And this is the way all through the Orient,--even in Aryan India. Any attempt to control everything directly is hopelessly mischievous. By learning to abstain therefrom, I have been able to keep my servants from the beginning, and have learned to prize some of them at their weight in gold.
What I was going to say especially is in reference to pupils and students. In T[=o]ky[=o] students do everything everywhere for or against everybody. They are legion,--they are ubiquitous. The news-vender, the hotel-clerk, the porter of a mansion, the man-servant of any large house is sure to be a student, struggling to live. (I have had one for a year--a good boy, and inconceivably useful, who soon enters the army.) A T[=o]ky[=o] resident is _obliged_ to have students about him. They are better guards than police, and better servants than any servants. If you don't have a student or two, you may look out for robbers, confidence-men, rowdies, trouble of all kinds at your house. Students _police_ T[=o]ky[=o].
Well, I found I could not be familiar with my students. It spoiled matters. I had to be a little unpleasant. Then reserved. As a consequence all is admirable. Direct interference won't do. I have to leave that to the lady of the house; and she can manage things without ever getting angry. But another student, whom I am educating, _did_ give me much heart-burning, until I became simply cruel with him. I should have dropped him; but I was told: "You don't understand: have patience, and wait." "But," I said, "his work is trash--worthless." "Never mind," was the answer, "wait and see!" At the end of the year, I am surprised by the improvement and the earnestness. "You see," I am told, "that boy was a spoiled child while his family were rich; but his heart is good. He will do well yet." And I find this quite probable. How the Japanese can manage with perfect gentleness and laughter what we cannot manage by force or fraud or money, ought to be a lesson. And I sympathize with this character--only, my own character is much too impatient and cranky to allow of correct imitation.