The Project Gutenberg EBook of Japanese Girls and Women, by Alice Mabel Bacon
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Title: Japanese Girls and Women Revised and Enlarged Edition
Author: Alice Mabel Bacon
Release Date: May 20, 2010 [EBook #32449]
Language: English
Character set encoding: UTF-8
START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JAPANESE GIRLS AND WOMEN
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, S.D., and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
By Alice M. Bacon
IN THE LAND OF THE GODS. 12mo, $1.50.
JAPANESE GIRLS AND WOMEN. 16mo, $1.25.
In Riverside Library for Young People. 16mo,
75 cents.
With 12 full-page Illustrations
in color and 43 outline drawings by Japanese
artists. Crown 8vo, gilt top, $4.00.
A JAPANESE INTERIOR. 16mo, $1.25. In Riverside
School Library. 16mo, 60 cents, .
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
Boston and New York
JAPANESE GIRLS AND
WOMEN
BY
ALICE MABEL BACON
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
The Riverside Press Cambridge
Copyright, 1891, 1902,
By ALICE MABEL BACON.
To
STEMATZ, THE MARCHIONESS OYAMA,
IN THE NAME OF OUR GIRLHOOD’S FRIENDSHIP, UNCHANGED AND
UNSHAKEN BY THE CHANGES AND SEPARATIONS OF OUR
MATURER YEARS,
This Volume
.
CONTENTS.
| CHAPTER | | PAGE | | —- | —- | —- | | I. | Childhood | 1 | | II. | Education | 37 | | III. | Marriage and Divorce | 57 | | IV. | Wife and Mother | 84 | | V. | Old Age | 119 | | VI. | Court Life | 138 | | VII. | Life in Castle and Yashiki | 169 | | VIII. | Samurai Women | 196 | | IX. | Peasant Women | 228 | | X. | Life in the Cities | 262 | | XI. | Domestic Service | 299 | | XII. | Within the Home | 327 | | XIII. | Ten Years of Progress | 371 | | | Appendix | 423 | | | Index | 473 |
PREFACE TO REVISED EDITION.
In offering a revised edition of a book
which has been before the public for more
than ten years, there is little to say that has
not been said in the original Preface. The
work as published before, however, was always,
to its author’s mind, unfinished, for
the reason that a chapter on household customs,
which was necessary for the completion
of the plan, had to be omitted because it
could not be written in America.
This defect has now been remedied, and
the chapter “Within the Home” contains
the supplementary matter necessary to complete
the picture of a Japanese woman’s life.
In addition to this a thorough revision has
been made of the whole book, and the subjects
discussed in each chapter have been
brought up to date by means of notes in an
Appendix. The reader will find these notes
referred to by asterisks in the text.
[vi]
Finally, a second supplementary chapter
has been added, in which an effort has been
made to analyze present conditions. From
its nature, this chapter is only a rapid survey
of the progress of ten years. It is not
easy to write with judgment of conditions
actually present. A little perspective is
necessary to make sure that one sees things
in their proper proportions. It is therefore
with some hesitation that I offer to the public
the result of two years’ experience of the
present state of affairs. If subsequent events
show that my observation has been incorrect,
I can only say that what I have written has
been the “Thing-as-I-see-It,” and does not
lay claim to being the “Thing-as-It-is.”
In closing, I would thank once more the
friends whose names appear in the previous
Preface, and would add to their number the
names of Mr. H. Sakurai and Mr. and Mrs.
Seijiro Saito, who have rendered me valuable
aid in gathering material.
A. M. B.
New Haven, Connecticut,
, 1902.
[vii]
PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION.
It seems necessary for a new author to
give some excuse for her boldness in offering
to the public another volume upon a
subject already so well written up as Japan.
In a field occupied by Griffis, Morse, Greey,
Lowell, and Rein, what unexplored corner
can a woman hope to enter? This is the
question that will be asked, and that accordingly
the author must answer.
While Japan as a whole has been closely
studied, and while much and varied information
has been gathered about the country
and its people, one half of the population
has been left entirely unnoticed,
passed over with brief mention, or altogether
misunderstood. It is of this neglected
half that I have written, in the hope
that the whole fabric of Japanese social[viii]
life will be better comprehended when the
women of the country, and so the homes
that they make, are better known and
understood.
The reason why Japanese home-life is
so little understood by foreigners, even by
those who have lived long in Japan, is
that the Japanese, under an appearance of
frankness and candor, hides an impenetrable
reserve in regard to all those personal
concerns which he believes are not
in the remotest degree the concerns of his
foreign guest. Only life in the home itself
can show what a Japanese home may be;
and only by intimate association—such as
no foreign man can ever hope to gain—with
the Japanese ladies themselves can
much be learned of the thoughts and daily
lives of the best Japanese women.
I have been peculiarly fortunate in having
enjoyed the privilege of long and intimate
friendship with a number of Japanese
ladies, who have spoken with me as freely,
and shown the details of their lives to me[ix]
as openly, as if bound by closest ties of kindred.
Through them, and only through
them, I have been enabled to study life
from the point of view of the refined and
intelligent Japanese women, and have found
the study so interesting and instructive
that I have felt impelled to offer to others
some part of what I have received
through the aid of these friends. I have,
moreover, been encouraged in my work
by reading, when it was already more than
half completed, the following words from
Griffis’s “Mikado’s Empire:”—
“The whole question of the position of
Japanese women—in history, social life,
education, employments, authorship, art,
marriage, concubinage, prostitution, benevolent
labor, the ideals of literature, popular
superstitions, etc.—discloses such a
wide and fascinating field of inquiry that
I wonder no one has as yet entered it.”
In closing, I should say that this work
is by no means entirely my own. It is, in
the first place, largely the result of the interchange
[x]of thought through many and
long conversations with Japanese ladies
upon the topics herein treated. It has
also been carefully revised and criticised;
and many valuable additions have been
made to it by Miss Umé Tsuda, teacher
of English in the Peeresses’ School in
Tōkyō, and an old and intimate friend.
Miss Tsuda is at present in this country,
on a two years’ leave, for purposes of
further study. She has, amid her many
duties as a student at Bryn Mawr College,
given much time and thought to
this work; and a large part of whatever
value it may possess is due to her.
I would say, too, that in the verification
of dates, names, and historical incidents, I
have relied altogether upon Griffis’s “Mikado’s
Empire” and Rein’s “Japan,”
knowing that those two authors represent
the best that has been done by foreigners
in the field of Japanese history.
This work also owes much, not only to
the suggestions and historical aids contained
[xi]in the “Mikado’s Empire,” but to
Mr. Griffis himself, for his careful reading
of my manuscript, and for his criticisms and
suggestions. No greater encouragement
can be given to an inexperienced author
than the helpful criticism of one who has
already distinguished himself in the same
field of labor; and for just such friendly
aid my warmest thanks are due to Mr.
Griffis.
A. M. B.
Hampton, Va., , 1891.
[1]
JAPANESE GIRLS AND WOMEN.
## CHAPTER I.
CHILDHOOD.
To the Japanese baby the beginning of
life is not very different from its beginning
to babies in the Western world. Its birth,
whether it be girl or boy, is the cause of
much rejoicing. As boys alone can carry
on the family name and inherit titles and
estates, they are considered of more importance,
but many parents’ hearts are made
glad by the addition of a daughter to the
family circle.
As soon as the event takes place, a special
messenger is dispatched to notify relatives
and intimate friends, while formal
letters of announcement are sent to those
less closely related. All persons thus notified
must make an early visit to the newcomer,
in order to welcome it into the[2]
world, and must either take with them or
send before them some present. Toys,
pieces of cotton, silk, or crêpe for the baby’s
dress are regarded as suitable; and everything
must be accompanied by fish or eggs,
for good luck. Where eggs are sent, they
are neatly arranged in a covered box, which
may contain thirty, forty, or even one hundred
eggs.[1] The baby, especially if it be
the first one in a family, receives many
presents in the first few weeks of its life,
and at a certain time proper acknowledgment
must be made and return presents
sent. This is done when the baby is
about thirty days old.
Both baby and mother have a hard time
of it for the first few weeks of its life. The
baby is passed from hand to hand, fussed
over, and talked to so much by the visitors
that come in, that it must think this world
a trying place. The mother, too, is denied
the rest and quiet she needs, and wears[3]
herself out in the excitement of seeing her
friends, and the physical exercise of going
through, so far as possible, the ceremonious
bows and salutations that etiquette
prescribes.
Before the seventh day the baby receives
its name.[2] There is no especial ceremony
connected with this, but the child’s birth
must be formally registered, together with
its name, at the district office of registration,
and the household keep holiday in
honor of the event. A certain kind of rice,
cooked with red beans, a festival dish denoting
good fortune, is usually partaken of
by the family on the seventh day.
The next important event in the baby’s
life is the , a ceremony which[4]
corresponds roughly with our christening.
On the thirtieth day after birth,[*]
the baby is taken for its first visit to the
temple. For this visit great preparations
are made, and the baby is dressed in finest
silk or crêpe, gayly figured,—garments
made especially for the occasion. Upon
the dress appears in various places the
crest of the family, as on all ceremonial
dresses, whether for young or old, for
every Japanese family has its crest. Thus
arrayed, and accompanied by members of
the family, the young baby is carried to one
of the Shinto temples, and there placed
under the protection of the patron deity of
the temple. This god, chosen from a great
number of Shinto deities, is supposed to
become the special guardian of the child
through life. Offerings are made to the
god and to the priest, and a blessing is
obtained; and the baby is thus formally
placed under the care of a special deity.
This ceremony over, there is usually an
entertainment of some kind at the home of
the parents, especially if the family be one
of high rank. Friends are invited, and if
there are any who have not as yet sent
in presents, they may give them at this
time.
[5]
It is usually on this day that the family
send to their friends some acknowledgment
of the presents received. This sometimes
consists of the red bean rice, such
as is prepared for the seventh day celebration,
and sometimes of cakes of ,
or rice paste. A letter of thanks usually
accompanies the return present. If rice
is sent, it is put in a handsome lacquered
box, the box placed on a lacquered tray,
and the whole covered with a square of
crêpe or silk, richly decorated. The box,
the tray, and the cover are of course returned,
and, curious to say, the box must
be returned unwashed, as it would be very
unlucky to send it back clean. A piece
of Japanese paper must be slipped into the
box after its contents have been removed,
and box and tray must be given back, just
as they are, to the messenger. Sometimes
a box of eggs, or a peculiar kind of dried
fish, called , is sent with this
present, when it is desired to make an especially
handsome return. When as many
as fifty or one hundred return presents
of this kind are to be sent, it is no slight
tax on the mistress of the house to see
that no one is forgotten, and that all is[6]
properly done. As special messengers are
sent, a number of men are sometimes kept
busy for two or three days.
After all these festivities, a quiet, undisturbed
life begins for the baby,—a life
which is neither unpleasant nor unhealthful.
It is not jolted, rocked, or trotted to
sleep; it is allowed to cry if it chooses,
without anybody’s supposing that the
world will come to an end because of its
crying; and its dress is loose and easily put
on, so that very little time is spent in the
tiresome process of dressing and undressing.
Under these conditions the baby
thrives and grows strong and fat; learns to
take life with some philosophy, even at a
very early age; and is not subject to fits
of hysterical or passionate crying, brought
on by much jolting or trotting, or by the
wearisome process of pinning, buttoning,
tying of strings, and thrusting of arms
into tight sleeves.
The Japanese baby’s dress, though not
as pretty as that of our babies, is in many
ways much more sensible. It consists of
as many wide-sleeved, straight, silk, cotton,
or flannel garments as the season of the
year may require,—all cut after nearly[7]
the same pattern, and that pattern the
same in shape as the grown-up .
These garments are fitted, one inside of
the other, before they are put on; then
they are laid down on the floor and the
baby is laid into them; a soft belt, attached
to the outer garment or dress, is tied
around the waist, and the baby is dressed
without a shriek or a wail, as simply and
easily as possible. The baby’s dresses, like
those of our babies, are made long enough
to cover the little bare feet; and the
sleeves cover the hands as well, so preventing
the unmerciful scratching that
most babies give to their faces, as well as
keeping the hands warm and dry.
Babies of the lower classes, within a few
weeks after birth, are carried about tied
upon the back of some member of the family,
frequently an older sister or brother,
who is sometimes not more than five or
six years old. The poorer the family, the
earlier is the young baby thus put on some
one’s back, and one frequently sees babies
not more than a month old, with bobbing
heads and blinking eyes, tied by long bands
of cloth to the backs of older brothers or
sisters, and living in the streets in all[8]
weathers. When it is cold, the sister’s
, or coat, serves as an extra covering
for the baby as well; and when the sun is
hot, the sister’s parasol keeps off its rays
from the bobbing bald head.[*] Living in
public, as the Japanese babies do, they
soon acquire an intelligent, interested look,
and seem to enjoy the games of the elder
children, upon whose backs they are carried,
as much as the players themselves.
Babies of the middle classes do not live in
public in this way, but ride about upon the
backs of their nurses until they are old
enough to toddle by themselves, and they
are not so often seen in the streets; as
few but the poorest Japanese, even in the
large cities, are unable to have a pleasant
bit of garden in which the children can
play and take the air. The children of the
richest families, the nobility, and the imperial
family, are never carried about in
this way. The young child is borne in the
arms of an attendant, within doors and
without; but as this requires the care of
some one constantly, and prevents the
nurse from doing anything but care for the
child, only the richest can afford this
luxury. With the baby tied to her back, a[9]
woman is able to care for a child, and yet
go on with her household labors, and baby
watches over mother’s or nurse’s shoulder,
between naps taken at all hours, the processes
of drawing water, washing and
cooking rice, and all the varied work of the
house. Imperial babies are held in the
arms of some one night and day, from the
moment of birth until they have learned
to walk, a custom which seems to render
the lot of the high-born infant less comfortable
in some ways than that of the plebeian
child.
The flexibility of the knees, which is required
for comfort in the Japanese method
of sitting, is gained in very early youth by
the habit of setting a baby down with its
knees bent under it, instead of with its
legs out straight before it, as seems to us
the natural way. To the Japanese, the
normal way for a baby to sit is with its
knees bent under it, and so, at a very early
age, the muscles and tendons of the knees
are accustomed to what seems to us a most
unnatural and uncomfortable posture.[3]
[10]
Among the lower classes, where there
are few bathing facilities in the houses,
babies of a few weeks old are often taken
to the public bath house and put into the
hot bath. These Japanese baths are usually
heated to a temperature of a hundred
to a hundred and twenty Fahrenheit,—a
temperature that most foreigners visiting
Japan find almost unbearable. To a baby’s
delicate skin, the first bath or two is usually
a severe trial, but it soon becomes accustomed
to the high temperature, and
takes its bath, as it does everything else,
placidly and in public. Born into a country
where cow’s milk is never used, the
Japanese baby is wholly dependent upon[11]
its mother for milk,[4] and is not weaned
entirely until it reaches the age of three or
four years, and is able to live upon the ordinary
food of the class to which it belongs.
There is no intermediate stage of bread
and milk, oatmeal and milk, gruel, or pap
of some kind; for the all-important factor—milk—is
absent from the bill of fare, in
a land where there is neither “milk for
babes” nor “strong meat for them that
are full of age.”
In consequence, partly, of the lack
of proper nourishment after the child is
too old to live wholly upon its mother’s
milk, and partly, perhaps, because of
the poor food that the mothers, even of
the higher classes, live upon, many babies
in Japan are afflicted with disagreeable
skin troubles, especially of the scalp
and face,—troubles which usually disappear
as soon as the child becomes accustomed
to the regular food of the adult.
Another consequence, as I imagine, of the[12]
lack of proper food at the teething period,
is the early loss of the child’s first teeth,
which usually turn black and decay some
time before the second teeth begin to show
themselves. With the exception of these
two troubles, Japanese babies seem healthy,
hearty, and happy to an extraordinary degree,
and show that most of the conditions
of their lives are wholesome. The
constant out-of-door life and the healthful
dress serve to make up in considerable
measure for the poor food, and the Japanese
baby, though small after the manner
of the race, is usually plump, and of firm,
hard flesh. One striking characteristic of
the Japanese baby is, that at a very early
age it learns to cling like a kitten to the
back of whoever carries it, so that it is
really difficult to drop it through carelessness,
for the baby looks out for its own
safety like a young monkey. The straps
that tie it to the back are sufficient for
safety; but the baby, from the age of one
month, is dependent upon its own exertions
to secure a comfortable position, and
it soon learns to ride its bearer with considerable
skill, instead of being merely a
bundle tied to the shoulders. Any one[13]
who has ever handled a Japanese baby can
testify to the amount of intelligence shown
in this direction at a very early age; and
this clinging with arms and legs is, perhaps,
a valuable part of the training which
gives to the whole nation the peculiar
quickness of motion and hardness of
muscle that characterize them from childhood.
It is the agility and muscular
quality that belong to wild animals, that
we see something of in the Indian, but to
a more marked degree in the Japanese,
especially of the lower classes.
The Japanese baby’s first lessons in walking
are taken under favorable circumstances.
With feet comfortably shod in the
soft , or mitten-like sock, babies can
tumble about as they like, with no bump
nor bruise, upon the soft matted floors of
the dwelling houses. There is no furniture
to fall against, and nothing about the
room to render falling a thing to be feared.
After learning the art of walking in the
house, the baby’s first attempts out of
doors are hampered by the or ,—a
light straw sandal or small wooden clog
attached to the foot by a strap passing between
the toes. At the very beginning the[14]
sandal or clog is tied to the baby’s foot by
bits of string fastened around the ankle,
but this provision for security is soon discarded,
and the baby patters along like the
grown people, holding on the by the
strap passing between the toes. This
somewhat cumbersome and inconvenient
foot gear must cause many falls at first,
but baby’s experience in the art of balancing
upon people’s backs now aids in this
new art of balancing upon the little wooden
clogs. Babies of two or three trot about
quite comfortably in that seem to give
most insecure footing, and older children
run, jump, hop on one foot, and play all
manner of active games upon heavy clogs
that would wrench our ankles and toes out
of all possibility of usefulness. This foot
gear, while producing an awkward, shuffling
gait, has certain advantages over our
own, especially for children whose feet are
growing rapidly. The , even if outgrown,
can never cramp the toes nor compress
the ankles. If the foot is too long
for the clog the heel laps over behind, but
the toes do not suffer, and the use of the
strengthens the ankles by affording
no artificial aid or support, and giving to[15]
all the muscles of foot and leg free play,
with the foot in a natural position. The
toes of the Japanese retain their prehensile
qualities to a surprising degree, and are
used, not only for grasping the foot gear,
but among mechanics almost like two supplementary
hands, to aid in holding the
thing worked upon. Each toe knows its
work and does it, and they are not reduced
to the dull uniformity of motion that characterizes
the toes of a leather-shod nation.
The distinction between the dress of the
boy and the girl, that one notices from
childhood, begins in babyhood. A very
young baby wears red and yellow, but soon
the boy is dressed in sober colors,—blues,
grays, greens, and browns; while the little
girl still wears the most gorgeous of
colors and the largest of patterns in her
garments, red being the predominant hue.
The sex, even of a young baby, may be distinguished
by the color of its clothing.
White, the garb of mourning in Japan, is
never used for children, but the minutest
babies are dressed in bright-colored garments,
and of the same materials—wadded
cotton, silk, or crêpe—as those worn by
adults of their social grade. As these[16]
dresses are not as easily washed as our own
cambric and flannel baby clothes, there is
a loss among the poorer classes in the matter
of cleanliness; and the gorgeous soiled
gowns are not as attractive as the more
washable white garments in which our
babies are dressed. For model clothing
for a baby, I would suggest a combination
of the Japanese style with the foreign,
easily washed materials,—a combination
that I have seen used in their own families
by Japanese ladies educated abroad,
and one in which the objections to the Japanese
style of dress are entirely obviated.
The Japanese baby begins to practice the
accomplishment of talking at a very early
age, for its native language is singularly
happy in easy expressions for children;
and little babies will be heard chattering
away in soft, easily spoken words long before
they are able to venture alone from
their perches on their mothers’ or nurses’
backs. A few simple words express much,
and cover all wants. expresses discontent
or dislike of any kind, and is also used
for “no”; means food; is the
dress; is the sock, or house shoe, etc.
We find many of the same sounds as in the[17]
baby language of English, with meanings
totally different. The baby is not troubled
with difficult grammatical changes, for the
Japanese language has few inflections; and
it is too young to be puzzled with the intricacies
of the various expressions denoting
different degrees of politeness, which are
the snare and the despair of the foreigner
studying Japanese.
As our little girl emerges from babyhood
she finds the life opening before her
a bright and happy one, but one hedged
about closely by the proprieties, and one
in which, from babyhood to old age, she
must expect to be always under the control
of one of the stronger sex. Her position
will be an honorable and respected one
only as she learns in her youth the lesson
of cheerful obedience, of pleasing manners,
and of personal cleanliness and neatness.
Her duties must be always either within
the house, or, if she belongs to the peasant
class, on the farm. There is no career or
vocation open to her: she must be dependent
always upon either father, husband,
or son, and her greatest happiness is to be
gained, not by cultivation of the intellect,
but by the early acquisition of the self-control
[18]which is expected of all Japanese women
to an even greater degree than of the
men. This self-control must consist, not
simply in the concealment of all the outward
signs of any disagreeable emotion,—whether
of grief, anger, or pain,—but in
the assumption of a cheerful smile and
agreeable manner under even the most
distressing of circumstances. The duty of
self-restraint is taught to the little girls of
the family from the tenderest years; it is
their great moral lesson, and is expatiated
upon at all times by their elders. The little
girl must sink herself entirely, must give up
always to others, must never show emotions
except such as will be pleasing to those
about her: this is the secret of true politeness,
and must be mastered if the woman
wishes to be well thought of and to lead a
happy life. The effect of this teaching is
seen in the attractive but dignified manners
of the Japanese women, and even of the
very little girls. They are not forward nor
pushing, neither are they awkwardly bashful;
there is no self-consciousness, neither
is there any lack of ; a childlike
simplicity is united with a womanly consideration
for the comfort of those around[19]
them. A Japanese child seems to be the
product of a more perfect civilization than
our own, for it comes into the world with
little of the savagery and barbarian bad
manners that distinguish children in this
country, and the first ten or fifteen years of
its life do not seem to be passed in one long
struggle to acquire a coating of good manners
that will help to render it less obnoxious
in polite society. How much of the
politeness of the Japanese is the result of
training, and how much is inherited from
generations of civilized ancestors, it is difficult
to tell; but my impression is, that
babies are born into the world with a good
start in the matter of manners, and that the
uniformly gentle and courteous treatment
that they receive from those about them,
together with the continual verbal teaching
of the principle of self-restraint and
thoughtfulness of others, produce with very
little difficulty the universally attractive
manners of the people. One curious thing
in a Japanese household is to see the formalities
that pass between brothers and
sisters, and the respect paid to age by
every member of the family. The grandfather
and grandmother come first of all in[20]
everything,—no one at table must be
helped before them in any case; after them
come the father and mother; and lastly,
the children according to their ages. A
younger sister must always wait for the
elder and pay her due respect, even in the
matter of walking into the room before
her. The wishes and convenience of the
elder, rather than of the younger, are to
be consulted in everything, and this lesson
must be learned early by children.
The difference in years may be slight, but
the elder-born has the first right in all
cases.
Our little girl’s place in the family is a
pleasant one: she is the pet and plaything
of father and elder brothers, and she is
never saluted by any one in the family, except
her parents, without the title of respect
due to her position. If she is the
eldest daughter, to the servants she is , literally, young lady; to her own
brothers and sisters, , elder sister.
Should she be one of the younger ones,
her given name, preceded by the honorific
and followed by , meaning Miss,
will be the name by which she will be
called by younger brothers and sisters, and[21]
by the servants. As she passes from babyhood
to girlhood, and from girlhood to
womanhood, she is the object of much love
and care and solicitude; but she does not
grow up irresponsible or untrained to meet
the duties which womanhood will surely
bring to her. She must learn all the duties
that fall upon the wife and mother of
a Japanese household, as well as obtain
the instruction in books and mathematics
that is coming to be more and more a
necessity for the women of Japan. She
must take a certain responsibility in the
household; must see that tea is made for
the guests who may be received by her
parents,—in all but the families of highest
rank, must serve it herself. Indeed, it is
quite the custom in families of the higher
classes, should a guest, whom it is desired
to receive with especial honor, dine at the
house, to serve the meal, not with the
family, but separately for the father and
his visitor; and it is the duty of the wife
or daughter, oftener the latter, to wait on
them. This is in honor of the guest, not
on account of the lack of servants, for there
may be any number of them within call, or
even in the back part of the room, ready[22]
to receive from the hands of the young girl
what she has removed. She must, therefore,
know the proper etiquette of the
table, how to serve carefully and neatly,
and, above all, have the skill to ply the
bottle, so that the house may keep up its
reputation for hospitality. Should guests
arrive in the absence of her parents, she
must receive and entertain them until the
master or mistress of the house returns.
She also feels a certain care about the behavior
of the younger members of the
family, especially in the absence of the
parents. In these various ways she is
trained for taking upon herself the cares
of a household when the time comes. In
all but the very wealthiest and most aristocratic
families, the daughters of the house
do a large part of the simple housework.
In a house with no furniture, no carpets,
no bric-à-brac, no mirrors, picture frames
or glasses to be cared for, no stoves or
furnaces, no windows to wash, a large part
of the cooking to be done outside, and no
latest styles to be imitated in clothing, the
amount of work to be done by women is
considerably diminished, but still there remains
enough to take a good deal of time.[23]
Every morning there are the beds to be
rolled up and stored away in the closet, the
mosquito nets to be taken down, the rooms
to be swept, dusted, and aired before breakfast.
Besides this, there is the washing
and polishing of the , or piazza,
which runs around the outside of a Japanese
house between the , or paper
screens that serve as windows, and the
, or sliding shutters, that are closed
only at night, or during heavy, driving
rains. Breakfast is to be cooked and
served, dishes to be washed (in cold water);
and then perhaps there is marketing to be
done, either at shops outside or from the
vendors of fish and vegetables who bring
their huge baskets of provisions to the
door; but after these duties are performed,
it is possible to sit down quietly to the
day’s work of sewing, studying, or whatever
else may suit the taste or necessities
of the housewife. Of sewing there is always
a good deal to be done, for many
Japanese dresses must be taken to pieces
whenever they are washed, and are turned,
dyed, and made over again and again, so
long as there is a shred of the original
material left to work upon. There is washing,
[24]too, to be done, although neither with
hot water nor soap; and in the place of
ironing, the cotton garments, which are
usually washed without ripping, must be
hung up on a bamboo pole passed through
the armholes, and pulled smooth and
straight before they dry; and the silk,
always ripped into breadths before washing,
must be smoothed while wet upon a
board which is set in the sun until the silk
is dry.
Then there are the every day dishes
which our Japanese maiden must learn to
prepare. The proper boiling of rice is in
itself a study. The construction of the various
soups which form the staple in the
Japanese bill of fare; the preparation of
, a kind of rice dough, which is
prepared at the New Year, or to send to
friends on various festival occasions: these
and many other branches of the culinary
art must be mastered before the young girl
is prepared to assume the cares of married
life.
But though the little girl’s life is not
without its duties and responsibilities, it is
also not at all lacking in simple and innocent
pleasures.[*] First among the annual[25]
festivals, and bringing with it much mirth
and frolic, comes the Feast of the New
Year. At this time father, mother, and
all older members of the family lay aside
their work and their dignity, and join in
the fun and sports that are characteristic
of this season. Worries and anxieties are
set aside with the close of the year, and the
first beams of the New Year’s sun bring in
a season of unlimited joy for the children.
For about one week the festival
lasts, and the festal spirit remains through
the whole month, prompting to fun and
amusements of all kinds. From early
morning until bedtime the children wear
their prettiest clothes, in which they play
without rebuke. Guests come and go,
bringing congratulations to the family,
and often gifts for all. The children’s
stock of toys is thus greatly increased, and
the house overflows with the good things
of the season, of which , or cake made
from rice dough, prepared always especially
for this time, is one of the most important
articles.
The children are taken with their parents
to make New Year’s visits to their
friends and to offer them congratulations,[26]
and much they enjoy this, as, dressed in
their best, they ride from house to house
in .[5]
And then, during the long, happy evenings,
the whole family, including even the
old grandfather and grandmother, join in
merry games; the servants, too, are invited
to join the family party, and, without seeming
forward or out of place, enter into
the games with zest. One of the favorite
games is “,” literally “The
poems of a hundred poets.” It consists of
two hundred cards, on each of which is
printed either the first or last half of one
of the hundred famous Japanese poems
which give the name to the game. The
poems are well known to all Japanese, of
whatever sort or condition. All Japanese
poems are short, containing only thirty-one
syllables, and have a natural division
into two parts. The one hundred cards
containing the latter halves of the poems
are dealt and laid out in rows, face upward,
before the players. One person is appointed
[27]reader. To him are given the remaining
hundred cards, and he reads the
beginnings of the poems in whatever order
they come from the shuffled pack. Skill
in the game consists in remembering
quickly the line following the one read,
and rapidly finding the card on which it is
written. Especially does the player watch
his own cards, and if he finds there the
end of the poem, the beginning of which
has just been read, he must pick it up before
any one sees it and lay it aside. If
some one else spies the card first, he seizes
it and gives to the careless player several
cards from his own hand. Whoever first
disposes of all his cards is the winner.
The players usually arrange themselves in
two lines down the middle of the room, and
the two sides play against each other, the
game not being ended until either one side
or the other has disposed of all its cards.
The game requires great quickness of
thought and of motion, and is invaluable
in giving to all young people an education
in the classical poetry of their own nation,
as well as being a source of great merriment
and jollity among young and old.
Scattered throughout the year are various
[28]flower festivals, when, often with her
whole family, our little girl visits the
famous gardens where the plum, the
cherry, the chrysanthemum, the iris, or
the azalea attain their greatest loveliness,
and spends the day out of doors in æsthetic
enjoyment of the beauties of nature
supplemented by art. And then there is
the feast most loved in the whole year, the
Feast of Dolls, when on the third day of the
third month the great fire-proof storehouse
gives forth its treasures of dolls,—in an
old family, many of them hundreds of years
old,—and for three days, with all their
belongings of tiny furnishings in silver,
lacquer, and porcelain, they reign supreme,
arranged on red-covered shelves in the
finest room of the house. Most prominent
among the dolls are the effigies of the Emperor
and Empress in antique court costume,
seated in dignified calm, each on a
lacquered dais. Near them are the figures
of the five court musicians in their robes
of office, each with his instrument. Beside
these dolls, which are always present
and form the central figures at the feast,
numerous others, more plebeian, but more
lovable, find places on the lower shelves,[29]
and the array of dolls’ furnishings which
is brought out on these occasions is something
marvelous. It was my privilege to
be present at the Feast of Dolls in the
house of one of the , a
house in which the old forms and ceremonies
were strictly observed, and over
which the wave of foreign innovation had
passed so slightly that even the calendar
still remained unchanged, and the feast
took place upon the third day of the third
month of the old Japanese year, instead of
on the third day of March, which is the
usual time for it now. At this house,
where the dolls had been accumulating for
hundreds of years, five or six broad, red-covered
shelves, perhaps twenty feet long
or more, were completely filled with them
and with their belongings. The Emperor
and Empress appeared again and again, as
well as the five court musicians, and the
tiny furnishings and utensils were wonderfully
costly and beautiful. Before each
Emperor and Empress was set an elegant
lacquered table service,—tray, bowls, cups,
pots, rice buckets, etc., all complete;
and in each utensil was placed the appropriate
variety of food. The used on[30]
this occasion is a sweet, white liquor,
brewed especially for this feast, as different
from the ordinary as sweet cider is
from the hard cider upon which a man
may drink himself into a state of intoxication.[*]
Besides the table service, everything
that an imperial doll can be expected to
need or desire is placed upon the shelves.
Lacquered , or palanquins; lacquered
bullock carts, drawn by bow-legged
black bulls,—these were the conveyances
of the great in Old Japan, and these, in
minute reproductions, are placed upon the
red-covered shelves. Tiny silver and brass
, or fire boxes, are there, with their
accompanying tongs and charcoal baskets,—whole
kitchens, with everything required
for cooking the finest of Japanese
feasts, as finely made as if for actual
use; all the necessary toilet apparatus,—combs,
mirrors, utensils for blackening the
teeth, for shaving the eyebrows, for reddening
the lips and whitening the face,—all
these things are there to delight the souls
of all the little girls who may have the opportunity
to behold them. For three days
the imperial effigies are served sumptuously
at each meal, and the little girls of[31]
the family take pleasure in serving their
imperial majesties; but when the feast
ends, the dolls and their belongings are
packed away in their boxes, and lodged in
the fire-proof warehouse for another year.
The Tokugawa collection, of which I
have spoken, is remarkably full and costly,
for it has been making for hundreds of
years in one of the younger branches of a
family which for two and a half centuries
was possessed of almost imperial power,
and lived in more than imperial luxury;
but there are few households so poor that
they do not from year to year accumulate
a little store of toys wherewith to celebrate
the feast, and, whether the toys are
many or few, the feast is the event of
the year in the lives of the little girls of
Japan.[*]
Beside the regular feasts at stated seasons,
our little girl has a great variety of
toys and games, some belonging to particular
seasons, some played at any time
during the year. At the New Year the
popular out-of-door games are battledoor
and shuttlecock, and ball. There is no
prettier sight, to my mind, than a group
of little girls in their many-colored wide-sleeved
[32]dresses playing with battledoor or
ball. The graceful, rhythmic motion of
their bodies, the bright upturned eyes, the
laughing faces, are set off to perfection by
the coloring of their flowing drapery; and
their agility on their high, lacquered clogs
is a constant source of wonder and admiration
to any one who has ever made
an effort to walk upon the clumsy things.
There are dolls, too, that are not relegated
to the storehouse when the Feast of Dolls
is ended, but who are the joy and comfort
of their little mothers during the whole
year; and at every , or bazaar,
an endless variety of games, puzzles, pictures
to be cut out and glued together, and
amusements of all kinds, may be purchased
at extremely low rates. There is no dearth
of games for our little girl, and many
pleasant hours are spent in the household
sitting room with games, or conundrums,
or stories, or the simple girlish chatter
that elicits constant laughter from sheer
youthful merriment.
As for fairy tales, so dear to the hearts
of children in every country, the Japanese
child has her full share. Often she listens,
half asleep, while cuddling under the warm[33]
quilted cover of the ,[6] in the cold
winter evenings, to the drowsy voice of the
old grandmother or nurse, who carries her
away on the wings of imagination to the
wonderful palace of the sea gods, or to the
haunts of the terrible , monsters with
red, distorted faces and fearful horns.
Momotaro, the Peach Boy, with his wonderful
feats in the conquest of the , is
her hero, until he is supplanted by the
more real ones of Japanese history.
There are occasional all-day visits to the
theatre, too, where, seated on the floor in
a box, railed off from those adjoining, our
little girl, in company with her mother and
sisters, enjoys, though with paroxysms of
horror and fear, the heroic historical plays
which are now almost all that is left of the
heroic old Japan. Here she catches the
spirit of passionate loyalty that belonged
to those days, forms her ideals of what a
noble Japanese woman should be willing
to do for parents or husband, and comes
away taught, as she could be by no other[34]
teaching, what the spirit was that animated
her ancestors,—what spirit must
animate her, should she wish to be a
worthy descendant of the women of old.
Among these surroundings, with these
duties and amusements, our little girl
grows to womanhood. The unconscious
and beautiful spirit of her childhood is not
driven away at the dawn of womanhood by
thoughts of beaux, of coming out in society,
of a brief career of flirtation and conquest,
and at the end as fine a marriage,
either for love or money, as her imagination
can picture. She takes no thought
for these things herself, and her intercourse
with young men, though free and
unconstrained, has about it no grain of
flirtation or romantic interest. When the
time comes for her to marry, her father
will have her meet some eligible young
man, and both she and the young man will
know, when they are brought together,
what is the end in view, and will make up
their minds about the matter. But until
that time comes, the modest Japanese
maiden carries on no flirtations, thinks
little of men except as higher beings to
be deferred to and waited on, and preserves[35]
the childlike innocence of manner, combined
with a serene dignity under all circumstances,
that is so noticeable a trait
in the Japanese woman from childhood to
old age.
The Japanese woman is, under this discipline,
a finished product at the age of
sixteen or eighteen. She is pure, sweet,
and amiable, with great power of self-control,
and a knowledge of what to do upon
all occasions. The higher part of her nature
is little developed; no great religious
truths have lifted her soul above the world
into a clearer and higher atmosphere; but
as far as she goes, in regard to all the little
things of daily life, she is bright, industrious,
sweet-tempered, and attractive, and
prepared to do well her duty, when that
duty comes to her, as wife and mother and
mistress of a household. The highest
principle upon which she is taught to act
is obedience, even to the point of violating
all her finest feminine instincts, at the
command of father or husband; and acting
under that principle, she is capable of an
entire self-abnegation such as few women
of any race can achieve.
With the close of her childhood, the[36]
happiest period in the life of a Japanese
woman closes. The discipline that she
has received so far, repressive and constant
as it has often been, has been from kind
and loving parents. She has freedom, to
a certain degree, such as is unknown to
any other country in Asia. In the home
she is truly loved, often the pet and plaything
of the household, though not receiving
the caresses and words of endearment
that children in America expect as a right,
for love in Japan is undemonstrative.[7] But
just at the time when her mind broadens,
and the desire for knowledge and self-improvement
develops, the restraints and
checks upon her become more severe. Her
sphere seems to grow narrower, difficulties
one by one increase, and the young girl,
who sees life before her as something
broad and expansive, who looks to the future
with expectant joy, may become, in a
few years, the weary, disheartened woman.
Footnotes:
[1] All presents in Japan must be wrapped in white paper, although, except for funerals, this paper must have some writing on it, and must be tied with a peculiar red and white paper string, in which is inserted the , or bit of dried fish, daintily folded in a piece of colored paper, which is an indispensable accompaniment of every present. [2] A child is rarely given the name of a living member of the family, or of any friend. The father’s name, slightly modified, is frequently given to a son, and those of ancestors long ago dead are sometimes used. One reason for this is probably the inconvenience of similar names in the same family, and middle names, as a way of avoiding this difficulty, are unknown. The father usually names the child, but some friend or patron of the family may be asked to do it. Names of beautiful objects in nature, such as Plum, Snow, Sunshine, Lotos, Gold, are commonly used for girls, while boys of the lower classes often rejoice in such appellations as Stone, Bear, Tiger, etc. To call a child after a person would not be considered any especial compliment.[*] [3] That the position of the Japanese in sitting is really unnatural and unhygienic, is shown by recent measurements taken by the surgeons of the Japanese army. These measurements prove that the small stature of the Japanese is due largely to the shortness of the lower limbs, which are out of proportion to the rest of the body. The sitting from early childhood upon the legs bent at the knee, arrests the development of that part of the body, and produces an actual deformity in the whole nation. This deformity is less noticeable among the peasants, who stand and walk so much as to secure proper development of the legs; but among merchants, literary men, and others of sedentary habits, it is most plainly to be seen. The introduction of chairs and tables, as a necessary adjunct of Japanese home life, would doubtless in time alter the physique of the Japanese as a people. [4] Sometimes, in the old days, rice water was given to babies instead of milk, but it was nearly impossible to bring up a baby on this alone. Now both fresh and condensed milk are used, where the mother’s milk is insufficient, but only in those parts of Japan where the foreign influence is felt.[*] [5] , or , a small, light carriage, usually with a broad top, which is drawn by a man. The is the commonest of all vehicles now in use in Japan. -man and are terms commonly used for the runner who draws the carriage. [6] , a charcoal fire in a brazier or a small fireplace in the floor, over which a wooden frame is set and the whole covered by a quilt. The family sit about it in cold weather with the quilt drawn up over the feet and knees. [7] Kisses are unknown, and regarded by conservative Japanese as an animal and disgusting way of expressing affection. [37]
CHAPTER II.
EDUCATION.
So far we have spoken only of the domestic
training of a Japanese girl. That part
of her education that she gains through
teachers and schools must be the subject
of a separate chapter. Japan differs from
most Oriental countries in the fact that
her women are considered worthy of a certain
amount of the culture that comes from
the study of books; and although, until
recently, schools for girls were unknown in
the empire, nevertheless every woman, except
those of the lower classes, received instruction
in the ordinary written language,
while some were well versed in the Chinese
classics and the poetic art. These, with
some musical accomplishment, an acquaintance
with etiquette and the arts of arranging
flowers, of making the ceremonial tea,
and in many cases not only of writing a
beautiful hand, but of flower-painting as
well, in the old days made up the whole of[38]
an ordinary woman’s education. Among
the lower classes, especially the merchant
class, instruction was sometimes given in
the various pantomimic dances which one
sees most frequently presented by professional
dancing girls. The art of dancing
is not usually practiced by women of the
higher classes, but among the daughters of
the merchants special dances were learned
for exhibition at home, or even at the
or religious festival, and their performance
was for the amusement of spectators,
and not especially for the pleasure
of the dancers themselves. These dances
are modest and graceful, but from the fact
that they are always learned for entertaining
an audience, however small and select,
and are most frequently performed by professional
dancers of questionable character,
the more refined and higher class Japanese
do not care especially to have their
daughters learn them.
In the old days, little girls were not sent
to school, but, going to the house of a
private teacher, received the necessary instruction
in reading, and writing. The
writing and reading at the beginning, are
taught simultaneously, the teacher writing[39]
a letter upon a sheet of paper and telling
the scholar its name, and the scholar writing
it over and over until, by the time she
has acquired the necessary skill in writing
it, both name and form are indelibly imprinted
upon her memory. To write, with
a brush dipped in India ink, upon soft
paper, the hand entirely without support, is
an art that seldom can be acquired by a
grown person, but when learned in childhood
it gives great deftness in whatever
other art may be subsequently studied.
This is perhaps the reason why the Japanese
value a good handwriting more
highly than any other accomplishment, for
it denotes a manual dexterity that is the
secret of success in all the arts, and one
who writes the Chinese characters well and
rapidly can quickly learn to do anything
else with the fingers.
The fault that one finds with the Japanese
system—a fault that lies deeper than
the mere methods of teaching, and has its
root in the ideographic character of the
written language—is that, while it cultivates
the memory and powers of observation
to a remarkable extent, and while it
gives great skill in the use of the fingers,[40]
it affords little opportunity for the development
of the reasoning powers.[8] The[41]
years of study that are required for mastering
the written language, so as to be able
to grasp the thoughts already given to the
world, leave comparatively little time for
the conducting of any continuous thought
on one’s own account, and so we find in
Japanese scholars—whether boys or girls—quickness
of apprehension, retentive
memories, industry and method in their
study of their lessons, but not much originality
of thought. This result comes, I
believe, from the nature of the written
language and the difficulties that attend
the mastery of it; as a consequence of
which, an educated man or woman becomes
simply a student of other men’s
thoughts and sayings about things instead
of being a student of the things themselves.
Music in Japan is an accomplishment
reserved almost entirely for women, for
priests, and for blind men. It seems to
me quite fortunate that the musical art
is not more generally practiced, as Japanese
music, as a rule, is far from agreeable
to the untrained ear of the outside
barbarian.[*] The is the pleasantest of
the Japanese instruments, but probably on
account of its large size, which makes it[42]
inconvenient to keep in a small Japanese
house, it is used most among the higher
classes, from the [9] upwards. The
is an embryo piano, a horizontal
sounding-board, some six feet long, upon
which are stretched strings supported by
ivory bridges. It is played by means of
ivory finger-tips fitted to the thumb, forefinger,
and middle finger of the right hand,
and gives forth agreeable sounds, not unlike
those of the harp. The player sits
before the on knees and heels, in the
ordinary Japanese attitude, and her motions
are very graceful and pretty as she
touches the strings, often supplementing
the strains of the instrument with her
voice. The teaching of this instrument
and of the , or Japanese guitar, is
almost entirely in the hands of blind men,
who in Japan support themselves by the
two professions of music and massage,—all
the blind, who cannot learn the former,
becoming adepts in the latter profession.
The arrangement of flowers is taught as[43]
a fine art, and much time may be spent in
learning how, by clipping, bending, and
fixing in its place in the vase, each spray
and twig may be made to look as if actually
growing, for flower arranging is not
merely to show the flower itself, but includes
the proper arrangement of the
branches, twigs, and leaves of plants. The
flower plays only a small part, and is not
used in decoration, except on the branch
and stem as it is in nature, and the art
consists in the preservation of the natural
bend and growth when fixed in the vase.
In every case, each branch has certain
curves, which must be in harmony with the
whole. Branches of pine, bamboo, and the
flowering plum are much used.
Teachers spend much time in showing
proper and improper combinations of different
flowers, as well as the arrangement
of them. Many different styles have come
up, originated by the famous teachers who
have founded various schools of the art,—an
art which is unique and exceedingly
popular, requiring artistic talent and a
cultivated eye. One often sees, on going
into the guest room of a Japanese house, a
vase containing gracefully arranged flowers
[44]set in the , or raised alcove of
the room, under the solitary [10]
that forms the chief ornament of the
apartment. As these two things, the vase
of flowers and the hanging scroll, are the
only adornments, it is more necessary that
the flowers should be carefully arranged,
than in our crowded rooms, where a vase
of flowers may easily escape the eye, perplexed
by the multitude of objects which
surround it.
The ceremonial tea must not be confounded
with the ordinary serving of tea
for refreshment. The proper making, and
serving, and drinking of the ceremonial
tea is the most formal of social observances,
each step in which is prescribed by a rigid
code of etiquette. The tea, instead of
being the whole leaf, such as is used for
ordinary occasions, is a fine, green powder.
The infusion is made, not in a small pot,
from which it is poured out into cups,
but in a bowl, into which the hot water is
poured from a dipper on to the powdered
tea. The mixture is stirred with a bamboo
whisk until it foams, then handed with[45]
much ceremony to the guest, who takes it
with equal ceremony and drinks it from
the bowl, emptying the receptacle at three
gulps. Should there be a number of guests,
tea is made for each in turn, in the order
of their rank, in the same bowl. For this
ceremonial tea, a special set of utensils is
used, all of antique and severely simple
style. The charcoal used for heating the
water is of a peculiar variety; and the
room in which the tea is made and served
is built for that special purpose, and kept
sacred for that use. This art, which is
often part of the education of women of
the higher classes, is taught by regular
teachers, often by gentlewomen who have
fallen into distressed circumstances.[*] I remember
with great vividness a visit paid
to an old lady living near a provincial
city of Japan, who had for years supported
herself by giving lessons in this politest
of arts. Her little house, of the daintiest
and neatest type, seemed filled to overflowing
by three foreigners, whom she received
with the courtliest of welcomes. At
the request of my friend, an American lady
engaged in missionary work in that part of
the country, she gave us a lesson in the[46]
etiquette of the tea ceremony. Every motion,
from the bringing in and arranging
of the utensils to the final rinsing and
wiping of the tea bowl, was according to
rules strictly laid down, and the whole
ceremony had more the solemnity of a religious
ritual than the lightness and gayety
of a social occasion.
Etiquette of all kinds is not left in
Japan to chance, to be learned by observation
and imitation of any model that may
present itself, but is taught regularly by
teachers who make a specialty of it. Everything
in the daily life has its rules, and the
etiquette teacher has them all at her fingers’
ends. There have been several famous
teachers of etiquette, and they have formed
systems which differ in minor points, while
agreeing in the principal rules. The etiquette
of bowing, the position of the body,
the arms, and the head while saluting, the
methods of shutting and opening the door,
rising and sitting down on the floor, the
manner of serving a meal, or tea, are all,
with the minutest details, taught to the
young girls, who, I imagine, find it rather
irksome. I know two young girls of new
Japan who find nothing so wearisome as[47]
their etiquette lesson, and would gladly be
excused from it. I have heard them, after
their teacher had left, slyly make fun of
her stiff and formal manners. Such people
as she will, I fear, soon belong only to the
past, though it still remains to be seen
how much of European manners will be
engrafted on the old formalities of Japanese
life. It is, perhaps, because of this
regular teaching in the ways of polite society,
that the Japanese girl seems never at
a loss, even under unusual circumstances,
but bears herself with self-possession in
places where young girls in America would
be embarrassed and awkward.
But the Japanese are rapidly finding out
that this busy nineteenth century gives
little time for learning how to shut and
open doors in the politest manner, and indeed
such things under the newly established
school system are now relegated entirely
to the girls’ schools, the boys having
no lessons in etiquette.
The method of teaching flower-painting
is so interesting that I must speak of it
before I leave the subject of accomplishments.
I have said that the acquisition of
skill in writing the Chinese characters was[48]
the best possible preparation for skill in all
other arts. This is especially true of the
art of painting, which is simply the next
step, after writing has been learned. The
painting master, when he comes to the
house, brings no design as a model, but
sits down on the floor before the little
desk, and on a sheet of paper paints with
great rapidity the design that he wishes
the pupil to copy. It may be simply two
or three blades of grass upon which the
pupil makes a beginning, but she is expected
to make her picture with exactly
the same number of bold strokes that the
master puts into his. Again and again
she blunders her strokes on to a sheet of
paper, until at last, when sheet after sheet
has been spoiled, she begins to see some
semblance of the master’s copy in her own
daub. She perseveres, making copy after
copy, until she is able from memory to put
upon the paper at a moment’s notice the
three blades of grass to her master’s satisfaction.
Only then can she go on to a
new copy, and only after many such designs
have been committed to memory,
and the free, dashing stroke necessary for
Japanese painting has been acquired, is[49]
she allowed to undertake any copying from
nature, or original designing.[*]
I have dwelt thus far only upon the entirely
Japanese education that was permitted
to women under the old régime.
That it was an effective and refining system,
all can testify who have made the acquaintance
of any of the charming Japanese
ladies whose schooling was finished
before Commodore Perry disturbed the repose
of old Japan. As I write, the image
comes before me of a sweet-faced, bright-eyed
little gentlewoman with whom it was
my good fortune to become intimately acquainted
during my stay in Tōkyō. A
widow, left penniless, with one child to
support, she earned the merest pittance
by teaching sewing at one of the government
schools in Tōkyō; but in all the circumstances
of her life, narrow and busy
as it needs must be, she proved herself a
lady through and through. Polite, cheerful,
an intelligent and cultivated reader,
a thrifty housekeeper, a loving and careful
mother, a true and helpful friend, her
memory is associated with many of my
pleasantest hours in Japan, and she is but
one of the many who bear witness to the[50]
culture that might be acquired by women
in the old days.
But the Japan of old is not the Japan
of to-day, and in the school system now
prevalent throughout the empire girls and
boys are equally provided for. First the
schools established by the various missionary
societies, and then the government
schools, offered to girls a broader education
than the old instruction in Chinese, in
etiquette, and in accomplishments. Now,
every morning, the streets of the cities and
villages are alive with boys and girls clattering
along, with their books and lunch
boxes in their hands, to the kindergarten,
primary, grammar, high, or normal school.
Every rank in life, every grade in learning,
may find its proper place in the new school
system, and the girls eagerly grasp their
opportunities, and show themselves apt
and willing students of the new learning
offered to them.
By the new system, at its present stage
of development, too much is expected of
the Japanese boy or girl. The work required
would be a burden to the quickest
mind. The whole of the old education in
Japanese and Chinese literature and composition—an
[51]education requiring the best
years of a boy’s life—is given, and grafted
upon this, our common-school and high-school
studies of mathematics, geography,
history, and natural science. In addition
to these, at all higher schools, one foreign
language is required, and often two, English
ranking first in the popular estimation.
Many a headache do the poor, hard-working
students have over the puzzling
English language, in which they have to
begin at the wrong end of the book and
read across the page from left to right, instead
of from top to bottom, and from right
to left, as is natural to them. But in spite
of its hard work, the new school life is
cheerful and healthful, and the children
enjoy it. It helps them to be really children,
and, while they are young, to be
merry and playful, not dignified and formal
little ladies at all times. Upon the young
girls, the influence of the schools is to
make them more independent, self-reliant,
and stronger women. In the houses of
the higher classes, even now, much of the
old-time system of repression is still in
force. Children are indeed “seen but not
heard,” and from the time when they[52]
learn to walk they must learn to be polite
and dignified. At school, the more progressive
feeling of the times predominates
among the authorities, and the children
are encouraged to unbend and enjoy themselves
in games and frolics, as true children
should do. Much is done for the pleasure
of the little ones, who often enjoy school
better than home, and declare that they do
not like holidays.[*]
But the young girl, who has finished
this pleasant school life, with all its advantages,
is not as well fitted as under
the old system for the duties and trials
of married life, unless under exceptional
circumstances, where the husband chosen
has advanced ideas. To those teaching the
young girls of Japan to-day, the problem of
how to educate them aright is a deep one,
and with each newly trained girl sent out
go many hopes, mingled with anxieties, in
regard to the training she has had as a
preparation for the new life she is about to
enter. The few, the pioneers, will have to
suffer for the happiness and good of the
many, for the problem of grafting the new
on to the old is indeed a difficult one, to be
solved only after many experiments.
[53]
There are many difficulties which lie in
the way of the new schools that must be
met, studied, and overcome. One of them
is the one already referred to, the problem
of how best to combine the new and the
old in the school curriculum. That the old
learning and literature, the old politeness
and sweetness of manner, must not be
given up or made little of, is evident to
every right-minded student of the matter.
That the newer and broader culture, with
its higher morality, its greater development
of the best powers of the mind, must
play a large part in the Japan of the future,
there is not a shadow of doubt, and
the women must not be left behind in the
onward movement of the nation. But how
to give to the young minds the best products
of the thought of two such distinct
civilizations is a question that is as yet unanswered,
and cannot be satisfactorily settled
until the effect of the new education
has begun to show itself in a generation or
so of graduates from the new schools. Another
difficulty is in the matter of health.
Most of the new school-houses are fitted
with seats and desks, such as are found
in American schools. Many of them are[54]
heated by stoves or furnaces. The scholars
in most cases wear the Japanese dress,
which in winter is made warm enough to
be worn in rooms having no artificial heat.
Put this warm costume into an artificially
heated room and the result is an over-heating
of the body, and a subsequent chill
when the pupil goes, with no extra covering,
into the keen out-of-door air. From
this cause alone, arise many colds and
lung troubles, which can be prevented
when more experience has shown how the
costumes of the East and West can be combined
to suit the new conditions. Another
part of the health problem lies in the fact
that in many cases the parents do not
understand the proper care of a growing
girl, ambitious to excel in her studies. Instead
of the regular hours, healthful food,
and gentle restraint that a girl needs under
those circumstances, our little Japanese
maiden is allowed to sit up to any hour of
the night, or arise at any hour in the
morning, to prepare her lessons, is given
food of most indigestible quality at all
hours of the day between her regular meals,
and is frequently urged to greater mental
exertion than her delicate body can endure.
[55]
Another difficulty, in fitting the new
school system into the customs of the people,
lies in the early age at which marriages
are contracted. Before the girl has
finished her school course, her parents begin
to wonder whether there is not danger
of her being left on their hands altogether,
if they do not hand her over to the first
eligible young man who presents himself.
Sometimes the girl makes a brave fight,
and remains in school until her course is
finished; more often she succumbs and is
married off, bids a weeping farewell to her
teachers and schoolmates, and leaves the
school, to become a wife at sixteen, a
mother at eighteen, and an old woman at
thirty. In some cases, the breaking down
of a girl’s health may be traced to threats
on the part of her parents that, if she does
not take a certain rank in her studies, she
will be taken from school and married off.[*]
These are difficulties that may be overcome
when a generation has been educated
who can, as parents, avoid the mistakes
that now endanger the health of a Japanese
school-girl. In the mean time, boarding
schools, that can attend to matters of
health and hygiene among the girls, would,[56]
if they could be conducted with the proper
admixture of Eastern and Western learning
and manners, do a great deal toward
educating that generation. The missionary
schools do much in this direction, but
the criticism of the Japanese upon the
manners of the girls educated in missionary
schools is universally severe. To a
foreigner who has lived almost entirely
among Japanese ladies of pure Japanese
education, the manners of the girls in these
schools seem brusque and awkward; and
though they are many of them noble
women and doing noble work, there is
room for hope that in the future of Japan
the charm of manner which is the distinguishing
feature of the Japanese woman
will not be lost by contact with our Western
shortness and roughness. A happy
mean undoubtedly can be reached; and
when it is, the women of new Japan will
be able to bear a not unfavorable comparison
with the women of the old régime.
Footnotes:
[8] The Japanese written language is a strange combination
of Chinese and Japanese, to read which a knowledge
of the Chinese characters is necessary. Chinese literature
written in the Chinese ideographs, which of course give
no clue to the sound, are read by Japanese with the
Japanese rendering of the words, and the Japanese order
of words in the sentence. When there have not been
exact equivalent Japanese words, a Chinese term has
come into use, so that much corrupt Chinese is now well
engrafted into the Japanese language, both written and
spoken. In the forming of new words and technical
terms Chinese words are used, as the Greek and Latin
are here. There is probably no similarity in the origin
of the two languages, but the Japanese borrowed from
the Chinese about the sixth century A. D. their cleverly
planned but most complex method of expressing
thought in writing. The introduction of the Chinese literature
has done much for Japan, and to master this
language is one of the essentials in the education of every
boy. At least seven or eight thousand characters must
be learned for daily use, and there are several different
styles of writing each of them. For a scholar, twice as
many, or even more, must be mastered in order to read
the various works in that rich literature.
The Japanese language contains a syllabary of forty-eight
letters, and in books and newspapers for the common
people is printed, by the side of the Chinese character,
the rendering of it, in the letters of the , or
Japanese alphabet.[*]
A Japanese woman is not expected to do much in the
study of Chinese. She will, of course, learn a few of the
most common characters, such as are used in letter-writing,
and for the rest she will read by the help of the
.
[9] The in the feudal times were the hereditary
retainers of a , or feudal lord. They formed the
military and literary class. For further information, see
chap. viii., on .
[10] , a hanging scroll, upon which a picture is
painted, or some poem or sentiment written.
[57]
CHAPTER III.
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
When the Japanese maiden arrives at
the age of sixteen, or thereabouts, she is
expected as a matter of course to marry.
She is usually allowed her choice in regard
to whether she will or will not marry a
certain man, but she is expected to marry
some one, and not to take too much time
in making up her mind. The alternative
of perpetual spinsterhood is never considered,
either by herself or her parents.
Marriage is as much a matter of course
in a woman’s life as death, and is no more
to be avoided. This being the case, our
young woman has only as much liberty of
choice accorded to her as is likely to provide
against a great amount of unhappiness
in her married life. If she positively
objects to the man who is proposed to her,
she is seldom forced to marry him, but no
more cordial feeling than simple toleration
is expected of her before marriage.
[58]
The courtship is somewhat after the following
manner. A young man, who finds
himself in a position to marry, speaks to
some married friend, and asks him to be
on the lookout for a beautiful[11] and accomplished
[59]maiden, who would be willing
to become his wife. The friend, acting
[60]
rather as advance agent, makes a canvass
of all the young maidens of his acquaintance,
inquiring among his friends;
and finally decides that so-and-so (Miss
Flower, let us say) will be a very good
match for his friend. Having arrived at
this decision, he goes to Miss Flower’s
parents and lays the case of his friend before
them. Should they approve of the
suitor, a party is arranged at the house
of some common friend, where the young
people may have a chance to meet each
other and decide each upon the other’s
merits. Should the young folks find no
fault with the match, presents are exchanged,[12]
a formal betrothal is entered
into, and the marriage is hastened forward.
All arrangements between the contracting
parties are made by go-betweens,
or seconds, who hold themselves responsible
[61]for the success of the marriage, and
must be concerned in the divorce proceedings,
should divorce become desirable or
necessary.
The marriage ceremony, which seems to
be neither religious nor legal in its nature,[*]
takes place at the house of the groom, to
which the bride is carried, accompanied by
her go-betweens, and, if she be of the
higher classes, by her own confidential
maid, who will serve her as her personal
attendant in the new life in her husband’s
house. The trousseau and household goods,
which the bride is expected to bring with
her, are sent before.[*] The household goods
required by custom as a part of the outfit
of every bride are as follows: A bureau; a
low desk or table for writing; a work-box;
two of the lacquer trays or tables on which
meals are served, together with everything
required for furnishing them, even to the
chopsticks; and two or more complete sets
of handsome bed furnishings. The trousseau
will contain, if the bride be of a well-to-do
family, dresses for all seasons, and
handsome sashes without number; for the
unchanging fashions of Japan, together
with the durable quality of the dress material,
[62]make it possible for a woman, at the
time of her marriage, to enter her husband’s
house with a supply of clothing that
may last her through her lifetime. The
parents of the bride, in giving up their
daughter, as they do when she marries,
show the estimation in which they have
held her by the beauty and completeness
of the trousseau with which they provide
her. This is her very own; and in the
event of a divorce, she brings back with
her to her father’s house the clothing and
household goods that she carried away as
a bride.
With the bride and her trousseau are
sent a great number of presents from the
family of the bride to the members of the
groom’s household. Each member of the
family, from the aged grandfather to the
youngest grandchild, receives some remembrance
of the occasion; and even the servants
and retainers, down to the
men, and the in the stables, are not
forgotten by the bride’s relatives. Beside
this present-giving, the friends and relatives
of the bride and groom, as in this
country, send gifts to the young couple,
often some article for use in the household,
or crêpe or silk for dresses.
[63]
In old times, the wedding took place in
the afternoon, but it is now usually celebrated
in the evening. The ceremony consists
merely in a formal drinking of the
native wine () from a two-spouted cup,
which is presented to the mouths of the
bride and groom alternately. This drinking
from one cup is a symbol of the equal
sharing of the joys and sorrows of married
life. At the ceremony no one is present
but the bride and bridegroom, their go-betweens,
and a young girl, whose duty it
is to present the cup to the lips of the contracting
parties. When this is over, the
wedding guests, who have been assembled
in the next room during the ceremony,
join the wedding party, a grand feast is
spread, and much merriment ensues.[13]
On the third day after the wedding, the
newly married couple are expected to make
a visit to the bride’s family, and for this
great preparations are made. A large
party is usually given by the bride’s parents,
either in the afternoon or evening, in
honor of this occasion, to which the friends[64]
of the bride’s family are invited. The young
couple bring with them presents from the
groom’s family to the bride’s, in return for
the presents sent on the wedding day.[*]
The festivities often begin early in the
afternoon and keep up until late at night.
A fine dinner is served, and music and
dancing, by professional performers, or
some other entertainment, serve to make
the time pass pleasantly. The bride appears
as hostess with her mother, entertaining
the company, and receiving their
congratulations, and must remain to speed
the last departing guest, before leaving
the paternal roof.
Within the course of two or three
months, the newly married couple are expected
to give an entertainment, or series
of entertainments, to their friends, as an
announcement of the marriage. As the
wedding ceremony is private, and no notice
is given, nor are cards sent out, this is
sometimes the first intimation that is received
of the marriage by many of the
acquaintances, though the news of a wedding
usually travels quickly. The entertainment
may be a dinner party, given at
home, or at some tea-house, similar in[65]
many ways to the one given at the bride’s
home by her parents. Sometimes it is a
garden party, and very lately it has become
the fashion for officials and people of high
rank to give a ball in foreign style.
Besides the entertainment, presents of
red rice, or , are sent as a token of
thanks to all who have remembered the
young couple. These are arranged even
more elaborately than the ones sent after
the birth of an heir.
The young people are not, as in this
country, expected to set up housekeeping
by themselves, and establish a new home.
Marriages often take place early in life,
even before the husband has any means of
supporting a family; and as a matter of
course, a son with his wife makes his
abode with his parents, and forms simply
a new branch of the household.
The only act required to make the marriage
legal is the withdrawal of the bride’s
name from the list of her father’s family as
registered by the government, and its entry
upon the register of her husband’s family.
From that time forward she severs all ties
with her father’s house, save those of
affection, and is more closely related by[66]
law and custom to her husband’s relatives
than to her own. Even this legal recognition
of her marriage is a comparatively
new thing in Japan, as is any limitation of
the right of divorce on the part of the
husband, or extension of that right to the
wife.[14]
At present in Japan the marriage relation
is by no means a permanent one, as it
is virtually dissoluble at the will of either
party, and the condition of public opinion
is such among the lower classes that it is
not an unknown occurrence for a man to
marry and divorce several wives in succession;
and for a woman, who has been
divorced once or twice, to be willing and
able to marry well a second or even a third
time. Among the higher classes, the
dread of the scandal and gossip, that must
attach themselves to troubles between man
and wife, serves as a restraint upon too
free use of the power of divorce; but still,[67]
divorces among the higher classes are so
common now that one meets numerous
respectable and respected persons who
have at some time in their lives gone
through such an experience.
One provision of the law, which serves to
make most mothers endure any evil of
married life rather than sue for a divorce,
is the fact that the children belong to the
father; and no matter how unfit a person
he may be to have the care of them, the
disposal of them in case of a divorce rests
absolutely with him. A divorced woman
returns childless to her father’s house;
and many women, in consequence of this
law or custom, will do their best to keep
the family together, working the more
strenuously in this direction, the more
brutal and worthless the husband proves
himself to be.
The ancestor worship, as found in Japan,
the tracing of relationship in the male
line only, and the generally accepted belief
that children inherit their qualities
from their father rather than from the
mother, make them his children and not
hers. Thus we often see children of noble
rank on the father’s side, but ignoble on[68]
the mother’s, inherit the rank of their
father, and not permitted even to recognize
their mother as in any way their
equal. If she is plebeian, the children
are not regarded as tainted by it.
In the case of divorce, even if the law
allowed the mother to keep her children,
it would be almost an impossibility for her
to do so. She has no means of earning
her bread and theirs, for few occupations
are open to women, and she is forced to
become a dependent on her father, or some
male relative. Whatever they may be
willing to do for her, it is quite likely that
they would begrudge aid to the children of
another family, with whom custom hardly
recognizes any tie. The children are the
children of the man whose name they bear.
If the woman is a favorite daughter, it may
happen that her father will take her and
her children under his roof, and support
them all; but this is a rare exception, and
only possible when the husband first gives
up all claim to the children.
There comes to my mind now a case
illustrating this point, which I think I may
cite without betraying confidence. It is
that of a most attractive young woman[69]
who was married to a worthless husband,
but lived faithfully with him for several
years, and became the mother of three
children. The husband, who seemed at
first merely good-for-nothing, became
worse as the years went by, drank himself
out of situation after situation procured
for him by powerful relatives, and at
last became so violent that he even beat
his wife and threatened his children, a
proceeding most unusual on the part of
a Japanese husband and father. The poor
wife was at last obliged to flee from her
husband’s house to her mother’s, taking
her children with her. She sued for a divorce
and obtained it, and is now married
again; her youth, good looks, and high
connections procuring her a very good
catch for her second venture in matrimony;
but her children are lost to her,
and belong wholly to their worthless,
drunken father.
Of the lack of permanence in the marriage
relation among the lower classes, the
domestic changes of one of my servants in
Tōkyō afford an amusing illustration. The
man, whom I had hired in the double
capacity of man and or[70]
groom, was a strong, faithful, pleasant-faced
fellow, recently come to Tōkyō from
the country. I inquired, when I engaged
him, whether he had a wife, as I wanted
some one who could remain in his room in
the stable in care of the horse when he
was pulling me about in the . He
replied that he had a wife, but she was now
at Utsunomiya, the country town from
which he had come, but he would send for
her at once, and she would be in Tōkyō in
the course of a week or two. Two or three
weeks passed and no wife appeared, so I
inquired of my cook and head servant
what had become of Yasaku’s wife. He
replied, with a twinkle in his eye, that she
had found work in Utsunomiya and did not
wish to come. A week more passed, and
still no wife, and further inquiries elicited
from the cook the information that Yasaku
had divorced her for disobedience, and was
on the lookout for a new and more docile
helpmate. His first thought was of the
maidservant of the Japanese family who
lived in the same house with me, a broad-faced,
red-cheeked country girl, of a very
low grade of intelligence. He gave this
up, however, because he thought it would[71]
not be polite to put my friends to inconvenience
by taking away their servant. His
next effort was by negotiation through a
Tōkyō friend; but apparently Yasaku’s
country manners were not to the taste of
the Tōkyō damsels, for he met with no success,
and was at last driven to write to his
father in Utsunomiya asking him to select
him a wife and bring her down to Tōkyō.
The selection took a week or two, and at
last my maid told me that Yasaku’s wife
was coming by the next morning’s train.
A look into the quarters in the
stable showed great preparations for the
bride. The mats, new-covered with nice
straw matting, were white and clean; the
were mended with new paper; the
walls covered with bright-colored pictures;
and various new domestic conveniences
had nearly bankrupted Yasaku, in spite of
his large salary of ten dollars a month.
He had ordered a fine feast at a neighboring
tea house, had had cards printed with
his own name in English and Japanese,
and had altogether been to such great expense
that he had had to put his winter
clothes in pawn to secure the necessary
money.
[72]
The day chosen for the marriage was
rainy, and, though Yasaku spent all his
time in going to trains, no bridal party
appeared; and he came home at night disconsolate,
to smoke his good-night pipe
over his solitary . He was, no
doubt, angry as well as disconsolate, for he
sat down and penned a severe letter to his
father, in which he said that, if the bride
did not appear on the next day counted
lucky for a wedding (no Japanese would
be married on an unlucky day), they could
send her back to her father’s house, for he
would none of her. This letter did its
work, for on the next lucky day, about ten
days later, the bride appeared, and Yasaku
was given two days of holiday on the agreement
that he should not be married again
while he remained in my service. On the
evening of the second day, the bride came
in to pay me her respects, and, crouching
on her hands and knees before me, literally
trembled under the excitement of her
first introduction to a foreigner. She was
a girl of rather unattractive exterior, fat
and heavy, and rather older than Yasaku
had bargained for, I imagine; at any rate,
from the first, he seemed dissatisfied with[73]
his “pig in a poke,” and after a couple of
months sent her home to her parents, and
was all ready to start out again in the hope
of better luck next time.
Here is another instance, from the woman’s
side. Upon one occasion, when I
was visiting a Japanese lady of high rank
who kept a retinue of servants, the woman
who came in with the tea bowed and
smiled upon me as if greeting me after a
long absence. As I was in and out of the
house nearly every day, I was a little surprised
at this demonstration, which was
quite different from the formal bow that
is given by the servant to her mistress’s
guest upon ordinary occasions. When she
went out my friend said, “You see O Kiku
has come back.” As I did not know that
the woman had been away, the news of
her return did not affect me greatly until
I learned the history of her departure. It
seemed that about a month before, she had
left her mistress’s house to be married;
and the day before my visit she had quietly
presented herself, and announced that she
had come back, if they would take her in.
My friend had asked her what had happened,—whether
she had found her husband
[74]unkind. No, her husband was very
nice, very kind and good, but his mother
was simply unbearable; she made her work
so hard that she actually had no time to
rest at all. She had known before her
marriage that her proposed mother-in-law
was a hard task-mistress, but her husband
had promised that his mother should live
with his older brother, and they should
have their housekeeping quite independent
and separate. As the mother was then
living with her older son, it seemed unlikely
that she would care to move, and
O Kiku San had married on that supposition.
But it seemed that the wife of the
older brother was both lazy and bad-tempered,
and the new wife of the younger
brother soon proved herself industrious
and good-natured. As the mother’s main
thought was to go where she would get
the most comfort and waiting upon, she
moved from the elder son’s house to that
of her younger son, and began leading her
new daughter-in-law such a life that she
soon gave up the effort to live with her
husband, sued for a divorce, obtained it,
and was back in her old place, all in a
month’s time from the date of her marriage.
[75]
But our readers must not suppose, from
the various incidents given, that few
happy marriages take place in Japan, or
that, in every rank of life, divorce is of
every-day occurrence. On the contrary,
there seems cause for wonder, not that
there are so many divorces, but that there
are so many happy marriages, with wives
and husbands devoted and faithful. For a
nobleman in the olden times to divorce his
wife would have caused such a scandal and
talk that it rarely occurred. If the wife
were disliked, he need have little or nothing
to do with her, their rooms, their
meals, and their attendance being entirely
separate, but he rarely took away from her
the name of wife, empty as it might be.
She usually would be from some other
noble house, and great trouble would arise
between the families if he attempted to
divorce her. The also, with the
same loyalty which they displayed for their
lords, were loyal to their wives, and many
a novel has been written, or play acted,
showing the devotion of husband and wife.
The quiet, undemonstrative love, though
very different from the ravings of a lover
in the nineteenth century novel, is perhaps
truer to life.
[76]
Among the merchants and lower classes
there has been, and is, a much lower standard
of morality, but the few years which
have passed since the Revolution of 1868
are not a fair sample of what Japan has
been. Noblemen, , and merchants
have had much to undergo in the great
changes, and, as is the case in all such
transition periods, old customs and restraints,
and old standards of morality,
have been broken down and have not been
replaced. There is no doubt that men
have run to excesses of all sorts, and divorces
have been much more frequent of
late years.[*]
Our little Japanese maiden knows, when
she blackens her teeth, dons her wedding
dress, and starts on her bridal journey to
her husband’s house, that upon her good
behavior alone depend her chances of a
happy life. She is to be henceforth the
property of a man of whom she probably
knows little, and who has the power, at
any whim, to send her back to her father’s
house in disgrace, deprived of her children,
with nothing to live for or hope for, except
that some man will overlook the disgrace
of her divorce, and by marrying her[77]
give her the only opportunity that a Japanese
woman can have of a home other
than that of a servant or dependent. That
these evils will be remedied in time, there
seems little reason to doubt, but just now
the various cooks who are engaged in brewing
the broth of the new civilization are
disagreed in regard to the condiments required
for its proper flavoring. The conservatives
wish to flavor strongly with the
subjection and dependence of women, believing
that only by that means can feminine
virtue be preserved. The younger
men, of foreign education, would drop into
the boiling pot the flavor of culture and
broader outlook; for by this means they
hope to secure happier homes for all, and
better mothers for their children. The
missionaries and native Christians believe
that, when the whole mixture is well impregnated
with practical Christianity, the
desired result will be achieved. All are
agreed on this point, that a strong public
opinion is necessary before improved legislation
can produce much effect; and
so, for the present, legislation remains in
the background, until the time shall come
when it can be used in the right way.
[78]
Let us examine the two remedies suggested
by the reformers, and see what
effect has been produced by each so far,
and what may be expected of them in the
future. Taking education first, what are
the effects produced so far by educating
women to a point above the old Japanese
standard? In many happy homes to-day,
we find husbands educated abroad, and
knowing something of the home life of
foreign lands, who have sought out wives
of broad intellectual culture, and who make
them friends and confidants, not simply
housekeepers and head-servants. In such
homes the wife has freedom, not such as
is enjoyed by American women, perhaps,
but equal to that of most European women.
In such homes love and equality rule, and
the power of the mother-in-law grows weak.
To her is paid due respect, but she seldom
has the despotic control which often makes
the beginning of married life hard to the
Japanese wife. These homes are sending
out healthy influences that are daily having
their effect, and raising the position of
women in Japan.
But for the young girl whose mind has
been broadened by the new education, and[79]
who marries, as the majority of Japanese
girls must, not in accordance with her own
wishes, but in obedience to the will of her
parents, a hard life is in store. A woman’s
education, under the old régime, was one
that fitted her well for the position that
she was to occupy. The higher courses of
study only serve to make her kick against
the pricks, and render herself miserable
where she might before have been happy.
With mind and character developed by
education, she may be obliged to enter the
home of her husband’s family, to be perhaps
one among many members under the
same roof. In the training of her own
children, in the care of her own health
and theirs, her wishes and judgment must
often yield to the prejudices of those above
her, under whose authority she is, and it
may not be until many years have passed
that she will be in a position to influence
in any measure the lives of those nearest
and dearest to her. Then, too, her life
must be passed entirely within the home,
with no opportunities to meet or to mingle
with the great world of which she has read
and studied. Surely her lot is harder than
that of the woman of the olden time, whose[80]
plain duty always lay in the path of implicit
obedience to her superiors, and who
never for one moment considered obedience
to the dictates of her own reason and
conscience as an obligation higher than
deference to the wishes of husband and
parents. Education, without further amelioration
of their lot as wives and mothers,
can but result in making the women discontented
and unhappy,—in many cases
injuring their health by worry over the
constant petty disappointments and baffled
desires of their lives.
This to superficial observers would seem
a step backward rather than forward, and
it is to this cause that the present reaction
against female education may be traced.
The first generation or two of educated
women must endure much for the sake of
those who come after, and by many this
vicarious suffering is misunderstood, and
distaste on the part of educated girls for
marriage, as it now exists in Japan, is regarded
as one of the sure signs that education
is a failure. Without some change
in the position of wife and mother, this
feeling will grow into absolute repugnance,
if women continue to be educated after the
Western fashion.
[81]
The second remedy that is suggested is
Christianity, a remedy which is even now
at work. Wherever one finds in Japan a
Christian home, there one finds the wife
and mother occupying the position that
she occupies all over Christendom. The
Christian man, in choosing his wife, feels
that it is not an ordinary contract, which
may be dissolved at any time at the will of
the contracting parties, but that it is a
union for life. Consequently, in making
his choice he is more careful, takes more
time, and thinks more of the personal
qualities of the woman he is about to
marry. Thus the chances are better at
the beginning for the establishment of a
happy home, and such homes form centres
of influence throughout the length and
breadth of the land to-day. Christianity
in the future will do much to mould public
sentiment in the right way, and can be
trusted as a force that is sure to grow in
time to be a mighty power in the councils
of the nation.
One more remedy might be suggested,
as a preliminary to proper legislation, or a
necessary accompaniment of it, and that
is, the opening of new avenues of employment
[82]for women, and especially for women
of the cultivated classes. To-day marriage,
no matter how distasteful, is the only opening
for a woman; for she can do nothing for
her own support, and cannot require her
father to support her after she has reached
a marriageable age. As new ways of self-support
present themselves, and a woman
may look forward to making a single life
tolerable by her own labor, the intelligent
girls of the middle class will no longer
accept marriage as inevitable, but will only
marry when the suitor can offer a good
home, kindness, affection, and security in
the tenure of these blessings. So far,
there is little employment for women, except
as teachers; but even this change in
the condition of things is forming a class,
as yet small, but increasing yearly, of
women who enjoy a life of independence,
though accompanied by much hard work,
more than the present life of a Japanese
married woman. In this class we find
some of the most intelligent and respected
of the women of new Japan; and the
growth of this class is one of the surest
signs that the present state of the laws
and customs concerning marriage and[83]
divorce is so unsatisfactory to the women
that it must eventually be remedied, if the
educated and intelligent of the men care
to take for their wives, and for the mothers
of their children, any but the less
educated and less intelligent of the women
of their own nation.
Footnotes:
[11] The Japanese standard of female beauty differs in
many respects from our own, so that it is almost impossible
for a foreigner visiting Japan to comprehend the
judgments of the Japanese in regard to the beauty of
their own women, and even more impossible for the untraveled
Japanese to discover the reasons for a foreigner’s
judgments upon either Japanese or foreign beauties.
To the Japanese, the ideal female face must be long and
narrow; the forehead high and narrow in the middle, but
widening and lowering at the sides, conforming to the
outline of the beloved Fuji, the mountain that Japanese
art loves to picture. The hair should be straight and
glossy black, and absolutely smooth. Japanese ladies
who have the misfortune to have any wave or ripple in
their hair, as many of them do, are at as much pains to
straighten it in the dressing as American ladies are to
simulate a natural curl, when Nature has denied them
that charm. The eyes should be long and narrow, slanting
upward at the outer corners; and the eyebrows
should be delicate lines, high above the eye itself. The
distinctly aquiline nose should be low at the bridge, the
curve outward beginning much lower down than upon
the Caucasian face; and the eye-socket should not be outlined
at all, either by the brow, the cheek, or by the
nose. It is this flatness of the face about the eyes that
gives the mildness of expression to all young people of
Mongolian type that is so noticeable a trait always in
their physiognomy. The mouth of an aristocratic Japanese
lady must be small, and the lips full and red; the
neck, a conspicuous feature always when the Japanese
dress is worn, should be long and slender, and gracefully
curved. The complexion should be light,—a clear
ivory-white, with little color in the cheeks. The blooming
country girl style of beauty is not admired, and everything,
even to color in the cheeks, must be sacrificed to
gain the delicacy that is the of the Japanese
beauty. The figure should be slender, the waist long,
but not especially small, and the hips narrow, to secure
the best effect with the Japanese dress. The head and
shoulders should be carried slightly forward, and the
body should also be bent forward slightly at the waist, to
secure the most womanly and aristocratic carriage. In
walking, the step should be short and quick, with the
toes turned in, and the foot lifted so slightly that either
clog or sandal will scuff with every step. This is necessary
for modesty, with the narrow skirt of the Japanese
dress.
Contrast with this type the fair, curling hair, the round
blue eyes, the rosy cheeks, the erect, slim-waisted, large-hipped
figures of many foreign beauties,—the rapid,
long, clean-stepping walk, and the air of almost masculine
strength and independence, which belongs especially to
English and American women,—and one can see how the
Japanese find little that they recognize as beauty among
them. Blue eyes, set into deep sockets, and with the
bridge of the nose rising as a barrier between them, impart
a fierce grotesqueness to the face, that the untraveled
Japanese seldom admire. The very babies will scream
with horror at first sight of a blue-eyed, light-haired
foreigner, and it is only after considerable familiarity
with such persons that they can be induced to show anything
but the wildest fright in their presence. Foreigners
who have lived a great deal among the Japanese find
their standards unconsciously changing, and see, to their
own surprise, that their countrywomen look ungainly,
fierce, aggressive, and awkward among the small, mild,
shrinking, and graceful Japanese ladies.
[12] The present from the groom is usually a piece of
handsome silk, used for the or girdle. This takes the
place of the conventional engagement ring of Europe and
America.[*] From the family of the bride, silk, such as is
made up into men’s dresses, is sent.
[13] Many women still blacken their teeth after marriage,
after the manner universal in the past; but this custom
is, fortunately, rapidly going out of fashion.
[14] “As early as 1870 an edict was published by which
official notice and approbation were made necessary preliminaries
to every matrimonial contract. In the following
year the class-limitations upon freedom of marriage
were abolished, and two years later the right of suing for
a divorce was conceded to the wife.”—Rein’s , p.
425.
[84]
CHAPTER IV.
WIFE AND MOTHER.[*]
The young wife, when she enters her
husband’s home, is not, as in our own country,
entering upon a new life as mistress of
a house, with absolute control over all of
her little domain. Should her husband’s
parents be living, she becomes almost as
their servant, and even her husband is unable
to defend her from the exactions of
her mother-in-law, should this new relative
be inclined to make full use of the power
given her by custom. Happy is the girl
whose husband has no parents. Her comfort
in life is materially increased by her
husband’s loss, for, instead of having to
serve two masters, she will then have to
serve only one, and that one more kind
and thoughtful of her strength and comfort
than the mother-in-law.
In Japan the idea of a wife’s duty to her
husband includes no thought of companionship
on terms of equality. The wife is[85]
simply the housekeeper, the head of the
establishment, to be honored by the servants
because she is the one who is nearest
to the master, but not for one moment to
be regarded as the master’s equal. She
governs and directs the household, if it be
a large one, and her position is one of much
care and responsibility; but she is not the
intimate friend of her husband, is in no
sense his confidante or adviser, except in
trivial affairs of the household. She appears
rarely with him in public, is expected
always to wait upon him and save
him steps, and must bear all things from
him with smiling face and agreeable manners,
even to the receiving with open arms
into the household some other woman,
whom she knows to bear the relation of
concubine to her own husband.
In return for this, she has, if she be of
the higher classes, much respect and honor
from those beneath her. She has, in
many cases the real though often inconsiderate
affection of her husband. If she
be the mother of children, she is doubly
honored, and if she be endowed with a good
temper, good manners, and tact, she can
render her position not only agreeable to[86]
herself, but one of great usefulness to
those about her. It lies with her alone to
make the home a pleasant one, or to make
it unpleasant. Nothing is expected of the
husband in this direction; he may do as he
likes with his own, and no one will blame
him; but if his home is not happy, even
through his own folly or bad temper, the
blame will fall upon his wife, who should
by management do whatever is necessary
to supply the deficiencies caused by her
husband’s shortcomings. In all things
the husband goes first, the wife second.
If the husband drops his fan or his handkerchief
the wife picks it up. The husband
is served first, the wife afterwards, and so
on through the countless minutiæ of daily
life. It is not the idea of the strong man
considering the weak woman, saving her
exertion, guarding and deferring to her;
but it is the less important waiting upon
the more important, the servant deferring
to her master.
But though the present position of a
Japanese wife is that of a dependent who
owes all she has to her protector, and for
whom she is bound to do all she can in
return, the dependence is in many cases a[87]
happy one. The wife’s position, especially
if she be the mother of children, is often
pleasant, and her chief joy and pride lies
in the proper conduct of her house and the
training of her children. The service of
her parents-in-law, however, must remain
her first duty during their lifetime. She
must make it her care to see that they are
waited upon and served with what they
like at meals, that their clothes are carefully
and nicely made, and that countless
little attentions are heaped upon them.
As long as her mother-in-law lives, the
latter is the real ruler of the house; and
though in many cases the elder lady prefers
freedom from responsibility to the personal
superintendence of the details of housekeeping,
she will not hesitate to require of
her daughter-in-law that the house be kept
to her satisfaction. If the maiden’s lot is
to be the first daughter-in-law in a large
family, she becomes simply the one of the
family from whom the most drudgery is
expected, who obtains the fewest favors,
and who is expected to have always the
pleasantest of tempers under circumstances
not altogether conducive to repose of spirit.
The wife of the oldest son has, however,[88]
the advantage that, when her mother-in-law
dies or retires, she becomes the mistress
of the house and the head lady of the
family, a position for which her apprenticeship
to the old lady has probably exceptionally
well fitted her.
Next to her parents-in-law, her duty is
to her husband. She must herself render
to him the little services that a European
expects of his valet. She must not only
take care of his clothing, but must bring it
to him and help him put it on, and must
put away with care whatever he has taken
off; and she often takes pride in doing
with her own hands many acts of service
which might be left to servants, and which
are not actually demanded of her, unless
she has no one under her to do them. In
the poorer families all the washing, sewing,
and mending that is required is always
done by the wife; and even the Empress
herself is not exempt from these duties of
personal service, but must wait upon her
husband in various ways.
When the earliest beams of the sun
shine in at the cracks of the dark wooden
shutters which surround the house at
night, the young wife in the family softly[89]
arises, puts out the feeble light of the
,[15] which has burned all night, and,
quietly opening one of the sliding doors,
admits enough light to make her own
toilet. She dresses hastily, only putting a
few touches here and there to her elaborate
coiffure, which she has not taken down for
her night’s rest.[16] Next she goes to arouse
the servants, if they are not already up,
and with them prepares the modest breakfast.
When the little lacquer tables, with
rice bowls, plates, and chopsticks are arranged
in place, she goes softly to see
whether her parents and husband are
awake, and if they have hot water, charcoal
fire, and whatever else they may need
for their toilet. Then with her own hands,[90]
or with the help of the servants, she slides
back the wooden shutters, opening the
whole house to the fresh morning air and
sunlight. It is she, also, who directs the
washing and wiping of the polished floors,
and the folding and putting away of the
bedding, so that all is in readiness before
the morning meal.
When breakfast is over, the husband
starts for his place of business, and the little
wife is in waiting to send him off with
her sweetest smile and her lowest bow,
after having seen that his foot-gear—whether
sandal, clog, or shoe—is at the
door ready for him to put on, his umbrella,
book, or bundle at hand, and his
waiting for him.
Certainly a Japanese man is lucky in
having all the little things in his life attended
to by his thoughtful wife,—a good,
considerate, careful body-servant, always
on hand to bear for him the trifling worries
and cares. There is no wonder that
there are no bachelors in Japan. To some
degree, I am sure, the men appreciate
these attentions; for they often become
much in love with their sweet, helpful
wives, though they do not share with them[91]
the greater things of life, the ambitions
and the hopes of men.
The husband started on his daily rounds,
the wife settles down to the work of the
house. Her sphere is within her home,
and though, unlike other Asiatic women,
she goes without restraint alone through
the streets, she does not concern herself
with the great world, nor is she occupied
with such a round of social duties as fill
the lives of society women in this country.
Yet she is not barred out from all intercourse
with the outer world, for there are
sometimes great dinner parties, given perhaps
at home, when she must appear as
hostess, side by side with her husband, and
share with him the duty of entertaining
the guests. There are, besides, smaller
gatherings of friends of her husband, when
she must see that the proper refreshments
are served, if they be only the omnipresent
tea and cake. She may, perhaps, join
in the number and listen to the conversation;
but if there are no ladies, she will
probably not appear, except to attend to
the wants of her guests. There are also
lady visitors—friends and relatives—who
come to make calls, oftentimes from a[92]
distance, and nearly always unexpectedly,
whose entertainment devolves on the wife.
Owing to the great distances in many of
the cities, and the difficulties that used to
attend going from place to place, it has
become a custom not to make frequent
visits, but long ones at long intervals. A
guest often stays several hours, remaining
to lunch or dinner, as the case may be, and,
should the distance be great, may spend
the night. So rigid are the requirements
of Japanese hospitality that no guest is
ever allowed to leave a house without having
been pressed to partake of food, if it
be only tea and cake. Even tradesmen or
messengers who come to the house must
be offered tea, and if carpenters, gardeners,
or workmen of any kind are employed
about the house, tea must be served in the
middle of the afternoon with a light lunch,
and tea sent out to them often during their
day’s work. If a guest arrives in ,
not only the guest, but the men
must be supplied with refreshments. All
these things involve much thought and
care on the part of the lady of the house.
In the homes of rich and influential men
of wide acquaintance, there is a great deal[93]
going on to make a pleasant variety for
the ladies of the household, even although
the variety involves extra work and responsibility.
The mistress of such a household
sees and hears a great deal of life;
and her position requires no little wisdom
and tact, even where the housewife has
the assistance of good servants, capable, as
many are, of sharing not only the work,
but the responsibility as well. Clever wives
in such homes see and learn much, in
an indirect way, of the outside world in
which the men live; and may become, if
they possess the natural capabilities for
the work, wise advisers and sympathizers
with their husbands in many things far
beyond their ordinary field of action. An
intelligent woman, with a strong will, has
often been, unseen and unknown, a mighty
influence in Japan. That her power for
good or bad, outside of her influence as
wife and mother, is a recognized fact, is
seen in the circumstance that in novels
and plays women are frequently brought in
as factors in political plots and organized
rebellions, as well as in acts of private revenge.
Still the life of the average woman is a[94]
quiet one, with little to interrupt the monotony
of her days with their never-ending
round of duties; and to the most secluded
homes only an occasional guest comes to
enliven the dull hours. The principal occupation
of the wife, outside of her housekeeping
and the little duties of personal
service to husband and parents, is needle-work.
Every Japanese woman (excepting
those of the highest rank) knows how to
sew, and makes not only her own garments
and those of her children, but her
husband’s as well. Sewing is one of the
essentials in the education of a Japanese
girl, and from childhood the cutting and
putting together of crêpe, silk, and cotton
is a familiar occupation to her. Though
Japanese garments seem very simple, custom
requires that each stitch and seam be
placed in just such a way; and this way is
something of a task to learn. To the uninitiated
foreigner, the general effect of the
loosely worn is the same, whether
the garment be well or ill made; but the
skillful seamstress can easily discover that
this seam is not turned just as it should
be, or that those stitches are too long or
too short, or carelessly or unevenly set.
[95]
Fancy work[17] or embroidery is not done
in the house, the gorgeous embroidered
Japanese robes being the product of professional
workmen. Instead of the endless
fancy work with silks, crewels, or worsteds,
over which so many American ladies spend
their leisure hours, many of the Japanese
ladies, even of the highest rank, devote
much time to the cultivation of the silkworm.
In country homes, and in the great
cities as well, wherever spacious grounds
afford room for the growth of mulberry
trees, silkworms are raised and watched
with care; an employment giving much
pleasure to those engaged in it.
It is difficult for any one who has not
experimented in this direction to realize
how tender these little spinners are. If a
strong breeze blow upon them, they are
likely to suffer for it, and the least change
in the atmosphere must be guarded against.
For forty days they must be carefully
watched, and the great, shallow, bamboo
basket trays containing them changed almost
daily. New leaves for their food[96]
must be given frequently, and as the least
dampness might be fatal, each leaf, in case
of rainy weather, is carefully wiped. Then,
too, the different ages of the worms must
be considered in preparing their food; as,
for the young worms, the leaves should be
cut up, while for the older ones it is better
to serve them whole. When, finally, the
buzzing noise of the crunching leaves has
ceased, and the last worm has put himself
to sleep in his precious white cocoon,
the work of the ladies is ended; for the
cocoons are sent to women especially
skilled in the work, by them to be spun
off, and the thread afterwards woven into
the desired fabric. When at last the silk,
woven and dyed, is returned to the ladies
by whose care the worms were nourished
until their work was done, it is shown
with great pride as the product of the
year’s labor, and if given as a present will
be highly prized by the recipient.
Among the daily tasks of the housewife,
one, and by no means the least of her
duties, is to receive, duly acknowledge, and
return in suitable manner, the presents
received in the family. Presents are not
confined to special seasons, although upon[97]
certain occasions etiquette is rigid in its
requirements in this matter, but they may
be given and received at all times, for the
Japanese are preëminently a present-giving
nation. For every present received,
sooner or later, a proper return must be
sent, appropriate to the season and to the
rank of the receiver, and neatly arranged
in the manner that etiquette prescribes.
Presents are not necessarily elaborate;
callers bring fruit of the season, cake, or
any delicacy, and a visit to a sick person
must be accompanied by something appropriate.
Children visiting in the family are
always given toys, and for this purpose a
stock is kept on hand. The present-giving
culminates at the close of the year, when
all friends and acquaintances exchange
gifts of more or less value, according to
their feelings and means. Should there be
any one who has been especially kind, and
to whom return should be made, this is the
time to do so.
Tradesmen send presents to their patrons,
scholars to teachers, patients to
their physicians, and, in short, it is the
time when all obligations and debts are
paid off, in one way or another. On the[98]
seventh day of the seventh month, there is
another general interchange of presents,
although not so universal as at the New
Year. It can easily be imagined that all
this present-giving entails much care, especially
in families of influence; and it
must be attended to personally by the wife,
who, in the secret recesses of her storeroom,
skillfully manages to rearrange the
gifts received, so that those not needed in
the house may be sent, not back to their
givers, but to some place where a present
is due. The passing-on of the presents is
an economy not of course acknowledged,
but frequently practiced even in the best
families, as it saves much of the otherwise
ruinous expense of this custom.
As time passes by, occasional visits are
paid by the young wife to her own parents
or to other relatives. At stated times, too,
she, and others of the family, will visit
the tombs of her husband’s ancestors, or of
her own parents, if they are no longer living,
to make offerings and prayers at the
graves, to place fresh branches of the
[18] before the tombs, and to see that[99]
the priests in charge of the cemetery have
attended to all the little things which the
Japanese believe to be required by the
spirits of the dead. Even these visits are
often looked forward to as enlivening the
monotony of the humdrum home life.
Sometimes all the members of the family
go together on a pleasure excursion, spending
the day out of doors, in beautiful gardens,
when some one of the much-loved
flowers of the nation is in its glory; and
the little wife may join in this pleasure
with the rest, but more often she is the
one who remains at home to keep the house
in the absence of others. The theatre, too,
a source of great amusement to Japanese
ladies, is often a pleasure reserved for a
time later in life.
The Japanese mother takes great delight
and comfort in her children, and
her constant thought and care is the
right direction of their habits and manners.
She seems to govern them entirely
by gentle admonition, and the severest
chiding that is given them is always in
a pleasant voice, and accompanied by a
smiling face. No matter how many servants
there may be, the mother’s influence
[100]is always direct and personal. No
thick walls and long passageways separate
the nursery from the grown people’s apartments,
but the thin paper partitions make
it possible for the mother to know always
what her children are doing, and
whether they are good and gentle with
their nurses, or irritable and passionate.
The children never leave the house, nor
return to it, without going to their mother’s
room, and there making the little
bows and repeating the customary phrases
used upon such occasions. In the same
way, when the mother goes out, all the
servants and the children escort her to
the door; and when her attendant shouts
“,” which is the signal of her return,
children and servants hasten to the
gate to greet her, and do what they can
to help her from her conveyance and make
her home-coming pleasant and restful.
The father has little to do with the
training of his children, which is left almost
entirely to the mother, and, except
for the interference of the mother-in-law,
she has her own way in their training,
until they are long past childhood. The
children are taught to look to the father[101]
as the head, and to respect and obey him
as the one to whom all must defer; but
the mother comes next, almost as high in
their estimation, and, if not so much feared
and respected, certainly enjoys a larger
share of their love.
The Japanese mother’s life is one of
perfect devotion to her children; she is
their willing slave. Her days are spent
in caring for them, her evenings in watching
over them; and she spares neither
time nor trouble in doing anything for
their comfort and pleasure. In sickness,[19]
in health, day and night, the little ones
are her one thought; and from the home
of the noble to the humble cot of the
peasant, this tender mother-love may be
seen in all its different phases. The Japanese
woman has so few on whom to lavish
her affection, so little to live for beside her
children, and no hopes in the future except
through them, that it is no wonder that[102]
she devotes her life to their care and service,
deeming the drudgery that custom
requires of her for them the easiest of
all her duties. Even with plenty of servants,
the mother performs for her children
nearly all the duties often delegated
to nurses in this country. Mother and
babe are rarely separated, night or day,
during the first few years of the baby’s
life, and the mother denies herself any
entertainment or journey from home when
the baby cannot accompany her. To give
the husband any share in the baby-work
would be an unheard-of thing, and a disgrace
to the wife; for in public and in
private the baby is the mother’s sole
charge, and the husband is never asked
to sit up all night with a sick baby, or
to mind it in any way at all. Nothing
in all one’s study of Japanese life seems
more beautiful and admirable than the
influence of the mother over her children,—an
influence that is gentle and all-pervading,
bringing out all that is sweetest
and noblest in the feminine character, and
affording the one almost unlimited opportunity
of a Japanese woman’s life. The
lot of a childless wife in Japan is a sad[103]
one. Not only is she denied the hopes
and the pleasures of a mother in her children,
but she is an object of pity to her
friends, and well does she know that Confucius
has laid down the law that a man is
justified in divorcing a childless wife. All
feel that through her, innocent though she
is, the line has ceased; that her duty is
unfulfilled; and that, though the name be
given to adopted sons, there is no heir of
the blood. A man rarely sends away his
wife solely with this excuse, but children
are the strongest of the ties which bind
together husband and wife, and the childless
wife is far less sure of pleasing her
husband. In many cases she tries to make
good her deficiencies by her care of adopted
children; in them she often finds the love
which fills the void in her heart and home,
and she receives from them in after-life the
respect and care which is the crown of old
age.
We have hitherto spoken of married life
when the wife is received into her husband’s
home. Another interesting side of
Japanese marriage is when a man enters
the wife’s family, taking her name and
becoming entirely one of her family, as[104]
usually the wife becomes of the husband’s.
When there are daughters but no sons in
a family to inherit the name, one of three
things may happen: a son may be adopted
early in life and grow up as heir; or he
may be adopted with the idea of marrying
one of the daughters; or, again, no one
may have been formally adopted, but on the
eldest daughter’s coming to a marriageable
age, her family and friends seek for her a
, that is to say, some man (usually a
younger son) who is willing and able to
give up his family name, and, by marrying
the daughter, become a member of
her family and heir to the name. He
cuts off all ties from his own family, and
becomes a member of hers, and the young
couple are expected to live with her parents.
In this case the tables are turned,
and it is he who has to dread the mother-in-law;
it is his turn to have to please his
new relatives and to do all he can to be
agreeable. He, too, may be sent away and
divorced by the all-powerful parents, if he
does not please; and such divorces are not
uncommon. Of course, in such marriages,
the woman has the greater power, and the
man has to remember what he owes her;[105]
and though the woman yields to him obediently
in all respects, it is an obedience not
demanded by the husband, as under other
circumstances. In such marriages the
children belong to the family whose name
they bear, so that in case of divorce they
remain in the wife’s family, unless some
special arrangement is made about them.
It may be wondered why young men
ever care to enter a family as . There
is only one answer,—it is the attraction
of wealth and rank, very rarely that of the
daughter herself. In the houses of rich
without sons, are very common,
and there are many younger sons of
the nobility, themselves of high birth, but
without prospects, who are glad enough to
become great lords. In feudal times, the
number of families was limited.
Several sons of one family could not establish
different families, but all but
the eldest son, if they formed separate
houses, must enroll themselves among the
ranks of the common people. Hence the
younger sons were often adopted into other
families as , where it was desired
to secure a succession to a name that
must otherwise die out. Since the Restoration,
[106]and the breaking down of the old
class distinctions, young men care more
for independence than for their rank as
; and it is now quite difficult to
find to enter families, unless
it be because of the attractiveness and
beauty of the young lady herself. Many a
young girl who could easily make a good
marriage with some suitable husband, could
she enter his family, is now obliged to take
some inferior man as , because few
men in these days are willing to change
their names, give up their independence,
and take upon themselves the support of
aged parents-in-law; for this also is expected
of the , unless the family that
he enters is a wealthy one.
From this custom of , and its effect
upon the wife’s position, we see that, in
certain cases, Japanese women are treated
as equal with men. It is not because of
their sex that they are looked down upon
and held in subjection, but it is because of
their almost universal dependence of position.
The men have the right of inheritance,
the education, habits of self-reliance,
and are the bread-winners. Wherever the
tables are turned, and the men are dependents
[107]of the women, and even where the
women are independent of the men,—there
we find the relations of men to
women vastly changed. The women of
Japan must know how to do some definite
work in the world beyond the work of the
home, so that their position will not be one
of entire dependence upon father, husband,
or son. If fathers divided their estates
between sons and daughters alike, and
women were given, before the law, right
to hold property in their own names, much
would be accomplished towards securing
them in their positions as wives and mothers;
and divorce, the great evil of Japanese
home life to-day, would become simply
a last resort to preserve the purity of the
home, as it is in most civilized countries
now.
The difference between the women of
the lower and those of the higher classes,
in the matter of equality with their husbands,
is quite noticeable. The wife of the
peasant or merchant is much nearer to
her husband’s level than is the wife of the
Emperor. Apparently, each step in the
social scale is a little higher for the man
than it is for the woman, and lifts him a[108]
little farther above his wife. The peasant
and his wife work side by side in the field,
put their shoulders to the same wheel, eat
together in the same room, at the same
time, and whichever of them happens to
be the stronger in character governs the
house, without regard to sex. There is no
great gulf fixed between them, and there
is frequently a consideration for the wife
shown by husbands of the lower class, that
is not unlike what we see in our own country.
I remember the case of a
man employed by a friend of mine in Tōkyō,
who was much laughed at by his
friends because he actually used to spend
some of his leisure moments in drawing
the water required for his household from
a well some distance away, and carrying
the heavy buckets to the house, in order
to save the strength of his little, delicate
wife. That cases of such devotion are rare
is no doubt true, but that they occur
shows that there is here and there a recognition
of the claims that feminine weakness
has upon masculine strength.
A frequent sight in the morning, in
Tōkyō, is a cart heavily laden with wood,
charcoal, or some other country produce,[109]
creaking slowly along the streets, propelled
by a farmer and his family. Sometimes
one will see an old man, his son, and
his son’s wife with a baby on her back, all
pushing or pulling with might and main;
the woman with tucked-up skirts and tight-fitting
blue trousers, a blue towel enveloping
her head,—only to be distinguished
from the men by her smaller size and the
baby tied to her back. But when evening
comes, and the load of produce has
been disposed of, the woman and baby are
seen seated upon the cart, while the two
men pull it back to their home in some
neighboring village. Here, again, is the
recognition of the law that governs the
position of woman in this country,—the
theory, not of inferior position, but of
inferior strength; and the sight of the
women riding back in the empty carts at
night, drawn by their husbands, is the
thing that strikes a student of Japanese
domestic life as nearest to the customs of
our own civilization in regard to the relations
of husbands and wives.
Throughout the country districts, where
the women have a large share in the labor
that is directly productive of wealth, where[110]
they not only work in the rice fields, pick
the tea crops, gather the harvests, and
help draw them to market, but where they
have their own productive industries, such
as caring for the silkworms, and spinning,
and weaving both silk and cotton,
we find the conventional distance between
the sexes much diminished by the important
character of feminine labor; but in
the cities, and among the classes who are
largely either indirect producers or non-producers,
the only labor of the women is
that personal service which we account as
menial. It is for this reason, perhaps, that
the gap widens as we go upward in society,
and between the same social levels
as we go cityward.
The wife of the countryman, though she
may work harder and grow old earlier, is
more free and independent than her city
sister; and the wife of the peasant, pushing
her produce to market, is in some ways
happier and more considered than the wife
of the noble, who must spend her life
among her ladies-in-waiting, in the seclusion
of her great house with its beautiful
garden, the plaything of her husband in
his leisure hours, but never his equal, or
the sharer of his cares or of his thoughts.
[111]
One of the causes which must be mentioned
as contributing to the lowering of
the wife’s position, among the higher and
more wealthy classes, lies in the system of
concubinage which custom allows, and the
law until quite recently has not discouraged.
From the Emperor, who was, by the
old Chinese code of morals, allowed twelve
supplementary wives, to the , who
are permitted two, the men of the higher
classes are allowed to introduce into their
families these , who, while beneath
the wife in position, are frequently more
beloved by the husband than the wife herself.
It must be said, however, to the
credit of many husbands, that in spite of
this privilege, which custom allows, there
are many men of the old school who are
faithful to one wife, and never introduce
this discordant element into the household.
Even should he keep , it is often
unknown to the wife, and she is placed in
a separate establishment of her own. And
in spite of the code of morals requiring
submission in any case on the part of the
woman, there are many wives of the
and lower classes who have enough
spirit and wit to prevent their husbands[112]
from ever introducing a rival under the
same roof. In this way the practice is
made better than the theory.
Not so with the more helpless wife of
the nobleman, for wealth and leisure make
temptation greater for the husband. She
submits unquestioningly to the custom requiring
that the wife treat these women
with all civility. Their children she may
even have to adopt as her own. The lot of
the herself is rendered the less endurable,
from the American point of view,
by the fact that, should the father of her
child decide to make it his heir, the mother
is thenceforth no more to it than any other
of the servants of the household. For instance,
suppose a hitherto childless noble is
presented with a son by one of his concubines,
and he decides by legal adoption to
make that son his heir: the child at its birth,
or as soon afterwards as is practicable, is
taken from its mother and placed in other
hands, and the mother never sees her own
child until, on the thirtieth day after its
birth, she goes with the other servants of
the household to pay her respects to her
young master. If it were not for the habit
of abject obedience to parents which Japanese
[113]custom has exalted into the one feminine
virtue, few women could be found of
respectable families who would take a position
so devoid of either honor or satisfaction
of any kind as that of . That
these positions are not sought after must be
said, to the honor of Japanese womanhood.
A nobleman may obtain women
for his “” (literally, honorable
concubines), but they are never respected
by their own class for taking such positions.
In the same way the of
are usually from the . No woman
who has any chance of a better lot will ever
take the unenviable position of .
A law which has recently been promulgated
strikes at the root of this evil, and, if
enforced, will in course of time go far toward
extirpating it. Henceforth in Japan,
no child of a concubine, or of adoption from
any source, can inherit a noble title. The
heir to the throne must hereafter be the
son, not only of the Emperor, but of the
Empress, or the succession passes to some
collateral branch of the family. This law
does not apply to Prince Haru, the present
heir to the throne, as, although he is not
the son of the Empress, he was legally[114]
adopted before the promulgation of the
law; but should he die, it will apply to all
future heirs.
That public opinion is moving in the
right direction is shown by the fact that
the young men of the higher classes do
not care to marry the daughters of ,
be they ever so legally adopted by their
own fathers. When the girls born of such
unions become a drug in the matrimonial
market, and the boys are unable to keep
up the succession, the will go out
of fashion, and the real wife will once more
assume her proper importance.[20]
Upon the 11th day of February, 1889,
the day on which the Emperor, by his own
act in giving a constitution to the people,
limited his own power for the sake of putting
his nation upon a level with the most
civilized nations of the earth, he at the[115]
same time, and for the first time, publicly
placed his wife upon his own level. In an
imperial progress made through the streets
of Tōkyō, the Emperor and Empress, for
the first time in the history of Japan, rode
together in the imperial coach.[*] Until
then, the Emperor, attended by his chief
gentlemen-in-waiting and his guards, had
always headed the procession, while the
Empress must follow at a distance with her
own attendants. That this act on the part
of the Emperor signifies the beginning of a
new and better era for the women of Japan,
we cannot but hope; for until the position
of the wife and mother in Japan is improved
and made secure, little permanence
can be expected in the progress of the
nation toward what is best and highest
in the Western civilization. Better laws,
broader education for the women, a change
in public opinion on the subject, caused by
the study, by the men educated abroad, of
the homes of Europe and America,—these
are the forces which alone can bring the
women of Japan up to that place in the
home which their intellectual and moral
qualities fit them to fill. That Japan is
infinitely ahead of other Oriental countries[116]
in her practices in this matter is greatly
to her credit; but that she is far behind
the civilized nations of Europe and America,
not only in practice but in theory, is a
fact that is incontestable, and a fact that,
unless changed, must sooner or later be a
stumbling-block in the path of her progress
toward the highest civilization of which she
is capable.[21] The European practice cannot
be grafted upon the Asiatic theory, but the
change in the home must be a radical one,
to secure permanent good results. As long
as the wife has no rights which the husband
is bound to respect, no great advance[117]
can be made, for human nature is too
mean and selfish to give in all cases to
those who are entirely unprotected by law,
and entirely unable to protect themselves,
those things which the moral nature declares
to be their due. In the old slave
times in the South, many of the negroes
were better fed, better cared for, and happier
than they are to-day; but they were
nevertheless at the mercy of men who
too often thought only of themselves, and
not of the human bodies and souls over
which they had unlimited power. It was a
condition of things that could not be prevented
by educating the masters so as to
induce them to be kind to their slaves; it
was a condition that was wrong in theory,
and so could not be righted in practice. In
the same way the position of the Japanese
wife is wrong in theory, and can never be
righted until legislation has given to her
rights which it still denies. Education will
but aggravate the trouble to a point beyond
endurance. The giving to the wife power
to obtain a divorce will not help much, but
simply tend to weaken still further the
marriage tie. Nothing can help surely
and permanently but the growth of a sound[118]
public opinion, in regard to the position of
the wife, that will, sooner or later, have
its effect upon the laws of the country.
Legislation once effected, all the rest will
come, and the wife, secure in her home and
her children, will be at the point where
her new education can be of use to her
in the administration of her domestic affairs
and the training of her children;
and where she will finally become the
friend and companion of her husband, instead
of his mere waitress, seamstress, and
housekeeper,—the plaything of his leisure
moments, too often the victim of his caprices.
Footnotes:
[15] The is the standing lamp, inclosed in a paper case, used as a night lamp in all Japanese houses. Until the introduction of kerosene lamps, the was the only light used in Japanese houses. The light is produced by a pith wick floating in a saucer of vegetable oil. [16] The pillow used by ladies is merely a wooden rest for the head, that supports the neck, leaving the elaborate head-dress undisturbed. The hair is dressed by a professional hair-dresser, who comes to the house once in two or three days. In some parts of Japan, as in Kiōto, where the hair is even more elaborately dressed than in Tōkyō, it is much less frequently arranged. The process takes two hours at least. [17] The one exception to this statement, so far as I know, is the species of silk mosaic made by the ladies in the houses. (See chap. vii.) [18] , the , a sacred plant emblematic of purity, and much used at funerals and in the decoration of graves. [19] Since the introduction of the foreign system of medicine and nursing, the Japanese realize so acutely the lack of conveniences and appliances for nursing the sick in their own homes, that cases of severe or even serious illness are usually sent to hospitals, where the invalids can have the comforts that even the wealthy Japanese homes cannot furnish. [20] It is worth while to mention in this connection the noteworthy efforts made by the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union of Japan in calling the attention of the public to this custom, and in arousing public sentiment in favor of legislation against not only this system, but against the licensed houses of prostitution. Though there has not yet been any practical result, much discussion has ensued in the newspapers and magazines, lectures have been given, and much strong feeling aroused, which may, before long, produce radical change. [21] Many of the thinking men of Japan, though fully recognizing the injustice of the present position of woman in society, and the necessity of reform in the marriage and divorce laws, refuse to see the importance of any movement to change them. Their excuse is, that such power in the hands of the husband over his wife might be abused, but that in fact it is not. Wrongs and injustice are rare, they argue, and kind treatment, affection, and even respect for the wife is the general rule; and that the keeping of the power in the hands of the husband is better than giving too much freedom to women who are without education. These men wish to wait until every woman is educated, before acting in a reform movement, while many conservatives oppose the new system of education for girls as making them unwomanly. Between these two parties, the few who really wish for a change are utterly unable to act. [119]
CHAPTER V.
OLD AGE.
No Japanese woman is ashamed to show
that she is getting along in years, but all
take pains that every detail of the dress
and coiffure shall show the full age of the
wearer. The baby girl is dressed in the
brightest of colors and the largest of patterns,
and looks like a gay butterfly or
tropical bird. As she grows older, colors
become quieter, figures smaller, stripes
narrower, until in old age she becomes a
little gray moth or plain-colored sparrow.
By the sophisticated eye, a woman’s age
can be told with considerable accuracy by
the various little things about her costume,[22]
and no woman cares to appear[120]
younger than her real age, or hesitates to
tell with entire frankness the number of
years that have passed over her head.
The reason for this lies, at least in part,
in the fact that every woman looks forward
to the period of old age as the time when
she will attain freedom from her life-long
service to those about her,—will be in the
position of adviser of her sons, and director
of her daughters-in-law; will be a person
of much consideration in the family, privileged
to amuse herself in various ways, to
speak her own mind on most subjects, and
to be waited upon and cared for by children
and grandchildren, in return for her
long years of faithful service in the household.
Should her sight and other bodily
powers remain good, she will doubtless
perform many light tasks for the general
good, will seldom sit idle by herself, but
will help about the sewing and mending,
the marketing, shopping, housework, and
care of the babies, tell stories to her grandchildren
after their lessons are learned,
give the benefit of her years of experience
to the young people who are still bearing
the heat and burden of the day, and, by her
prayers and visits to the temple at stated[121]
seasons, will secure the favor of the gods
for the whole family, as well as make her
own preparations for entry into the great
unknown toward which she is rapidly drifting.
Is there wonder that the young
wife, steering her course with difficulty
among the many shoals and whirlpools of
early married life, looks forward with anticipation
to the period of comparative rest
and security that comes at the end of the
voyage? As she bears all things, endures
all things, suffers long, and is kind, as she
serves her mother-in-law, manages her
husband’s household, cares for her babies,
the thought that cheers and encourages
her in her busy and not too happy life is
the thought of the sunny calm of old age,
when she can lay her burdens and cares
on younger shoulders, and bask in the
warmth and sunshine which this Indian
Summer of her life will bring to her.
In the code of morals of the Japanese,
obedience to father, husband, or son is exalted
into the chief womanly virtue, but
the obedience and respect of children, both
male and female, to their parents, also occupies
a prominent position in their ethical
system. Hence, in this latter stage of a[122]
woman’s career, the obedience expected of
her is often only nominal, and in any case
is not so absolute and unquestioning as
that of the early period; and the consideration
and respect that a son is bound to
show to his mother necessitates a care of
her comfort, and a consultation of her
wishes, that renders her position one of
much greater freedom than can be obtained
by any woman earlier in life. She
has, besides, reached an age when she is
not expected to remain at home, and she
may go out into the streets, to the theatre,
or other shows, without the least restraint
or fear of losing her dignity.
A Japanese woman loses her beauty early.
At thirty-five her fresh color is usually entirely
gone, her eyes have begun to sink a
little in their sockets, her youthful roundness
and symmetry of figure have given
place to an absolute leanness, her abundant
black hair has grown thin, and much care
and anxiety have given her face a pathetic
expression of quiet endurance. One seldom
sees a face that indicates a soured
temper or a cross disposition, but the lines
that show themselves as the years go by
are lines that indicate suffering and disappointment,
[123]patiently and sweetly borne.
The lips never forget to smile; the voice
remains always cheerful and sympathetic,
never grows peevish and worried, as is too
often the case with overworked or disappointed
women in this country. But youth
with its hopeful outlook, its plans and its
ambitions, gives way to age with its peaceful
waiting for the end, with only a brief
struggle for its place; and the woman of
thirty-five is just at the point when she
has bid good-by to her youth, and, having
little to hope for in her middle life, is
doing her work faithfully, and looking forward
to an old age of privilege and authority,
the mistress of her son’s house,
and the ruler of the little domain of home.
But I have spoken so far only of those
happy women whose sons grow to maturity,
and who manage to evade the dangerous
reefs of divorce upon which so many lives
are shipwrecked. What becomes of the
hundreds who have no children to rise up
and call them blessed, but who have in
old age to live as dependents upon their
brothers or nephews? Even these, who
in this country often lead hard and unrewarded
lives of toil among their happier[124]
relatives, find in old age a pleasanter lot
than that of youth. Many such old ladies
I have met, whose short hair or shaven
heads proclaim to all who see them that
the sorrow of widowhood has taken from
them the joy that falls to other women,
but whose cheerful, wrinkled faces and
happy, childlike ways have given one a feeling
of pleasure that the sorrow is past, and
peace and rest have come to their declining
years. Fulfilling what little household
tasks they can, respected and self-respecting
members of the household, the
, or Aunty, is not far removed in
the honor and affection of the children
from the , or Grandma, but both
alike find a peaceful shelter in the homes
of those nearest and dearest to them.
One of the happiest old ladies I have
ever seen was one who had had a rough
and stormy life. The mother of many
children, most of whom had died in infancy,
she was at last left childless and a
widow. In her children’s death the last
tie that bound her to her husband’s family
was broken, and, rather than be a burden
to them, she made her home for many
years with her own younger brother, taking
[125]up again the many cares and duties of
a mother’s life in sharing with the mother
the bringing up of a large family of children.
One by one, from the oldest to the
youngest, each has learned to love the old
aunty, to be lulled asleep on her back, and
to go to her in trouble when mother’s
hands were too full of work. Many the
caress received, the drives and walks enjoyed
in her company, the toys and candies
that came out unexpectedly from the
depths of mysterious drawers, to comfort
many an hour of childish grief. That was
years ago, and the old aunty’s hard times
are nearly over. Hale and hearty at three-score
years and ten, she has seen these
children grow up one by one, until now
some have gone to new homes of their
own. Her bent form and wrinkled face
are ever welcome to her children,—hers
by the right of years of patient care and
toil for them. They now, in their turn,
enjoy giving her pleasure, and return to
her all the love she has lavished upon
them. It is a joy to see her childlike
pride and confidence in them all, and to
know that they have filled the place left
vacant by the dead with whom had died
all her hopes of earthly happiness.
[126]
The old women of Japan,—how their
withered faces, bent frames, and shrunken,
yellow hands abide in one’s memory! One
seldom sees among them what we would
call beauty, for the almost universal shrinking
with age that takes place among the
Japanese covers the face with multitudinous
wrinkles, and produces the effect of a
withered russet apple; for the skin, which
in youth is usually brightened by red
cheeks and glossy black hair, in old age,
when color leaves cheek and hair, has a
curiously yellow and parchment-like look.
But with all their wrinkles and ugliness,
there is a peculiar charm about the old
women of Japan.
In Tōkyō, when the grass grows long
upon your lawn, and you send to the gardener
to come and cut it, no boy with
patent lawn-mower, nor stalwart countryman
with scythe and sickle, answers your
summons, but some morning you awake to
find your lawn covered with old women.
The much-washed cotton garments are
faded to a light blue, the exact match of
the light blue cotton towels in which their
heads are swathed, and on hands and
knees, each armed with an enormous pair[127]
of shears, the old ladies clip and chatter
cheerfully all day long, until the lawn is as
smooth as velvet under their careful cutting.
An occasional rest under a tree, for
pipes and tea, is the time for much cheerful
talk and gossip; but the work, though
done slowly and with due attention to the
comfort of the worker, is well done, and
certainly accomplished as rapidly as any
one could expect of laborers who earn only
from eight to twelve cents a day. Another
employment for this same class of laborers
is the picking of moss and grass from the
crevices of the great walls that inclose the
moats and embankments of the capital.
Mounted on little ladders, they pick and
scrape with knives until the wall is clear
and fresh, with no insidious growth to push
the great uncemented stones out of their
places.
In contrast with these humble but cheerful
toilers may be mentioned another class
of women, often met with in the great
cities. Dressed in rags and with covered
heads and faces, they wander about the
streets playing the outside the
latticed windows, and singing with cracked
voices some wailing melody. As they go[128]
from house to house, gaining a miserable
pittance by their weird music, they seem
the embodiment of all that is hopeless and
broken-hearted. What they are or whence
they come, I know not, but they always remind
me of the grasshopper in the fable,
who danced and sang through the brief
summer, to come, wailing and wretched,
seeking aid from her thriftier neighbor
when at last the winter closed in upon her.
As one rides about the streets, one often
sees a little, white-haired old woman trotting
about with a yoke over her shoulders
from which are suspended two swinging
baskets, filled with fresh vegetables. The
fact that her hair is still growing to its
natural length shows that she is still a wife
and not a widow; her worn and patched
blue cotton clothes, bleached light from
much washing, show that extreme poverty
is her lot in life; and as she hobbles along
with the gait peculiar to those who carry a
yoke, my thoughts are busy with her home,
which, though poor and small, is doubtless
clean and comfortable, but my eye follows
her through the city’s crowd, where laborer,
soldier, student, and high official
jostle each other by the way. Suddenly I[129]
see her pause before the gateway of a temple.
She sets her burden down, and there
in the midst of the bustling throng, with
bowed head, folded hands, and moving lips,
she invokes her god, snatching this moment
from her busy life to seek a blessing
for herself and her dear ones. The throng
moves busily on, making a little eddy
around the burden she has laid down, but
paying no heed to the devout little figure
standing there; then in a moment the
prayer is finished; she stoops, picks up her
yoke, balances it on her shoulders, and
moves on with the crowd, to do her share
while her strength lasts, and to be cared
for tenderly, I doubt not, by children and
children’s children when her work is done.
Another picture comes to me, too, a picture
of one whose memory is an inspiring
thought to the many who have the honor
to call her “mother.” A stately old lady,
left a widow many years ago, before the
recent changes had wrought havoc preparatory
to further progress, she seemed always
to me the model of a mother of the
old school. Herself a woman of thorough
classical education, her example and teaching
were to both sons and daughters a constant
[130]inspiration; and in her old age she
found herself the honored head of a family
well known in the arts of war and peace,
a goodly company of sons and daughters,
every one of them heirs of her spirit and
of her intellect. Though conservative herself,
and always clinging to the old customs,
she put no block in the path of her
children’s progress, and her fine character,
heroic spirit, and stanch loyalty to what
she believed were worth more to her children
than anything else could have been.
Tried by war, by siege, by banishment, by
danger and sufferings of all kinds, to her
was given at last an old age of prosperity
among children of whom she might well
be proud. Keeping her physical vigor to
the end, and dying at last, after an illness
of only two days, her spirit passed out into
the great unknown, ready to meet its dangers
as bravely as she had met those of
earth, or to enjoy its rest as sweetly and
appreciatively as she had enjoyed that of
her old age in the house of her oldest son.
My acquaintance with her was limited by
our lack of common language, but was a
most admiring and appreciative one on my
side; and I esteem it one of the chief[131]
honors of my stay in Japan, that upon my
last meeting with her, two weeks before
her death, she gave me her wrinkled but
still beautiful and delicately shaped hand
at parting,—a deference to foreign customs
that she only paid upon special occasions.
Two weeks later, amid such rain as Japanese
skies know all too well how to let
fall, I attended her funeral at the cemetery
of Aoyama. The cemetery chapel was
crowded, but a place was reserved for me,
on account of special ties that bound me
to the family, just behind the long line of
white-robed mourners. In the Buddhist
faith she had lived, and by the Buddhist
ceremonial she was buried,—the chanted
ritual, the gorgeously robed priests, and
the heavy smell of incense in the air reminding
one of a Roman Catholic ceremony.
The white wooden coffin was placed
upon a bier at the entrance to the chapel,
and when the priests had done their work,
and the ecclesiastical ceremony was over,
the relatives arose, one by one, walked over
to the coffin, bowed low before it, and
placed a grain of incense upon the little
censer that stood on a table before the[132]
bier, then, bowing again, retired to their
places. Slowly and solemnly, from the tall
soldier son, his hair already streaked with
gray, to the two-year-old grandchild, all
paid this last token of respect to a noble
spirit; and after the relatives the guests,
each in the order of rank or nearness to
the deceased, stepped forward and performed
the same ceremony before leaving
the room. What the meaning of the rite
was, I did not know, whether a worship of
strange gods or no; but to me, as I performed
the act, it only signified the honor
in which I held the memory of a heroic
woman who had done well her part in the
world according to the light that God had
given her.
Japanese art loves to picture the old woman
with her kindly, wrinkled face, leaving
out no wrinkle of them all, but giving with
equal truthfulness the charm of expression
that one finds in them. Long life is desired
by all as passionately as by ancient
Hebrew poet and psalmist, and with good
reason, for only by long life can a woman attain
the greatest honor and happiness. We
often exclaim in impatience at the thought
of the weakness and dependence of old[133]
age, and pray that we may die in the fullness
of our powers, before the decay of advancing
years has made us a burden upon
our friends. But in Japan, dependence is
the lot of woman, and the dependence of
old age is that which is most respected
and considered. An aged parent is never
a burden, is treated by all with the greatest
love and tenderness; and if times are hard,
and food and other comforts are scarce, the
children, as a matter of course, deprive
themselves and their children to give ungrudgingly
to their old father and mother.
Faults there are many in the Japanese
social system, but ingratitude to parents,
or disrespect to the aged, must not be
named among them; and Young America
may learn a salutary lesson by the study of
the place that old people occupy in the
home.
It is not only for the women of Japan,
but for the men as well, that old age is a
time of peace and happiness. When a man
reaches the age of fifty or thereabouts,
often while apparently in the height of his
vigor, he gives up his work or business and
retires, leaving all the property and income
to the care of his eldest son, upon whom[134]
he becomes entirely dependent for his support.[23]
This support is never begrudged
him, for the care of parents by their children
is as much a matter of course in
Japan as the care of children by those who
give them birth. A man thus rarely makes
provision for the future, and looks with
scorn on foreign customs which seem to
betoken a fear lest, in old age, ungrateful
children may neglect their parents and
cast them aside. The feeling, so strong in
America, that dependence is of itself irksome
and a thing to be dreaded, is altogether
strange to the Japanese mind.
The married son does not care to take his
wife to a new and independent home of his
own, and to support her and her children by
his own labor or on his own income, but he
takes her to his father’s house, and thinks
it no shame that his family live upon his
parents. But in return, when the parents
wish to retire from active life, the son takes
upon himself ungrudgingly the burden of[135]
their support, and the bread of dependence
is never bitter to the parents’ lips, for it is
given freely. To the time-honored European
belief, that a young man must be independent
and enterprising in early life in
order to lay by for old age, the Japanese will
answer that children in Japan are taught
to love their parents rather than ease and
luxury, and that care for the future is
not the necessity that it is in Europe
and America, where money is above everything
else,—even filial love. This habit of
thought may account for the utter want of
provision for the future, and the disregard
for things pertaining to the accumulation
of wealth, which often strikes curiously the
foreigner in Japan. A Japanese considers
his provision for the future made when he
has brought up and educated for usefulness
a large family of children. He invests
his capital in their support and education,
secure of bountiful returns in their
gratitude and care for his old age. It is
hard for the men of old Japan to understand
the rush and struggle for riches in
America,—a struggle that too often leaves
not a pause for rest or quiet pleasure until
sickness or death overtakes the indefatigable
[136]worker. The [24] of Japan is glad
enough to lay down early in life the cares
of the world, to have a few years of calm
and peace, undisturbed by responsibilities
or cares for outside matters. If he be an
artist or a poet, he may, uninterrupted,
spend his days with his beloved art. If he
is fond of the ceremonial tea, he has whole
afternoons that he may devote to this æsthetic
repast; and even if he has none of
these higher tastes, he will always have
congenial friends who are ready to share
the bottle, to join in a quiet smoke over
the , or to play the deep-engrossing
game of , or , the Japanese chess.
To the Japanese mind, to be in the company
of a few kindred souls, to spend the
long hours of a summer’s afternoon at the
ceremonial tea party, sipping tea and conversing
in a leisurely manner on various
subjects, is an enjoyment second to none.
A cultivated Japanese of the old times must
receive an education fitting him especially[137]
for such pursuits. At these meetings of
friends, artistically or poetically inclined,
the time is spent in making poems and exchanging
wittily turned sentiments, to be
read, commented on, and responded to; or
in the making of drawings, with a few bold
strokes of the brush, in illustration of some
subject given out. Such enjoyments as
these, the Japanese believe, cannot be appreciated
or even understood by the practical,
rush-ahead American, the product of
the wonderful but material civilization of
the West.
Thus, amid enjoyments and easy labors
suited to their closing years, the elder
couple spend their days with the young
people, cared for and protected by them.
Sometimes there will be a separate suite
of rooms provided for them; sometimes a
little house away from the noises of the
household, and separated from the main
building by a well-kept little garden. In
any case, as long as they live they will
spend their days in quiet and peace; and it
is to this haven, the , that all Japanese
look forward, as to the time when
they may carry out their own inclinations
and tastes with an income provided for the
rest of their days.[*]
Footnotes:
[22] Children wear their hair on top of their heads while very young, and the manner of arranging it is one of the distinctive marks of the age of the child. The , the style of headdress of married ladies, consisting of a large puff of hair on the top of the head, diminishes in size with the age of the wearer until, at sixty or seventy, it is not more than a few inches in width. The number, size, and variety of ornamental hairpins, and the tortoise-shell comb worn in front, all vary with the age. [23] It is this custom of going into early retirement that made it possible for the nobles in old times to keep the Emperor always a child. The ruling Emperor would be induced to retire from the throne at the age of sixteen or twenty; thus making room for some baby, who would be in his turn the puppet of his ambitious courtiers. [24] is the title belonging to a retired old gentleman or old lady. is the name of the house or suite of rooms set apart for such a person, and the title itself is made up of this word with the Chinese honorific and the title , the same as , used in addressing all persons except inferiors. [138]
CHAPTER VI.
COURT LIFE.
The court of the Emperor was, in the
early ages of Japan, the centre of whatever
culture and refinement the country could
boast, and the emperors themselves took
an active part in the promotion of civilization.
The earliest history of Japan is so
wrapped in the mists of legend and tradition
that only here and there do we get
glimpses of heroic figures,—leaders in
those early days. Demigods they seem, children
of Heaven, receiving from Heaven by
special revelation the wisdom or strength
by means of which they conquered their
enemies, or gave to their subjects new arts
and better laws. The traditional emperors,
the early descendants of the great Jimmu
Tenno,[25] seem to have been merely conquering
[139]chieftains, who by virtue of their descent
were regarded as divine, but who
lived the simple, hardy life of the savage
king, surrounded by wives and concubines,
done homage to by armed retainers and
subject chiefs, but living in rude huts, and
moving in and out among the soldiers, not
in the least retired into the mysterious solitude
which in later days enveloped the
Son of the Gods. The first emperors ruled
not only by divine right, but by personal
force and valor; and the stories of the valiant
deeds of these early rulers kept strong
the faith of the people in the divine qualities
of the imperial house during the hundreds
of years when the Emperor was a
mere puppet in the hands of ambitious and
powerful nobles.
Towards the end of this legendary period,
a figure comes into view that for heroic
qualities cannot be excelled in the annals
of any nation,—Jingo Kōgō, the conqueror[140]
of Corea, who alone, among the nine female
rulers of Japan, has made an era in the
national history. She seems to have been
from the beginning, like Jeanne D’Arc, a
hearer of divine voices; and through her
was conveyed to her unbelieving husband
a divine command, to take ship and sail
westward to the conquest of an unknown
land. Her husband questioned the authenticity
of the message, took the earthly and
practical view that, as there was no land
to be seen in the westward, there could be
no land there, and refused to organize any
expedition in fulfillment of the command;
but for his unbelief was sternly told that he
should never see the land, but that his wife
should conquer it for the son whom she
should bear after the father’s death. This
message from the gods was fulfilled. The
Emperor died in battle shortly after, and
the Empress, after suppressing the rebellion
in which her husband had been killed,
proceeded to organize an expedition for the
conquest of the unknown land beyond the
western sea. By as many signs as those
required by Gideon to assure himself of his
divine mission, the Empress tested the call
that had come to her, but at last, satisfied[141]
that the voices were from Heaven, she gave
her orders for the collection of troops and
the building of a navy. I quote from Griffis
the inspiring words with which she addressed
her generals: “The safety or destruction
of our country depends upon this
enterprise. I intrust the details to you.
It will be your fault if they are not carried
out. I am a woman and young. I shall
disguise myself as a man, and undertake
this gallant expedition, trusting to the
gods and to my troops and captains. We
shall acquire a wealthy country. The glory
is yours, if we succeed; if we fail, the guilt
and disgrace shall be mine.” What wonder
that her captains responded to such an
appeal, and that the work of recruiting and
shipbuilding began with a will! It was a
long preparation that was required—sometimes,
to the impatient woman, it seemed unnecessarily
slow—but by continual prayer
and offerings she appealed to the gods for
aid; and at last all was ready, and the brave
array of ships set sail for the unknown
shore, the Empress feeling within her the
new inspiration of hope for her babe as yet
unborn. Heaven smiled upon them from
the start. The clearest of skies, the most[142]
favoring of breezes, the smoothest of seas,
favored the god-sent expedition; and tradition
says that even the fishes swarmed in
shoals about their keels, and carried them
on to their desired haven. The fleet ran
safely across to southern Corea, but instead
of finding battles and struggles awaiting
them, the king of the country met them on
the beach to receive and tender allegiance to
the invaders, whose unexpected appearance
from the unexplored East had led the natives
to believe that their gods had forsaken
them. The expedition returned laden
with vast wealth, not the spoil of battle,
but the peaceful tribute of a bloodless victory;
and from that time forward Japan,
through Corea, and later by direct contact
with China itself, began to receive and assimilate
the civilization, arts, and religions
of China. Thus through a woman Japan
received the start along the line of progress
which made her what she is to-day,
for the sequel of Jingo Kōgō’s Corean expedition
was the introduction of almost
everything which we regard as peculiar
to civilized countries. With characteristic
belittling of the woman and exalting of
the man, the whole martial career of the[143]
Empress is ascribed to the influence of her
son as yet unborn,—a son who by his valor
and prowess has secured for his deified
spirit the position of God of War in the
Japanese pantheon. We should say that
pre-natal influences and heredity produced
the heroic son; the Japanese reason from
the other end, and show that all the noble
qualities of the mother were produced by
the influence of the unborn babe.
With the introduction of literature, art,
and Buddhism, a change took place in
the relations of the court to the people.
About the Emperor’s throne there gathered
not only soldiers and governors, but the
learned, the accomplished, the witty, the
artistic, who found in the Emperor and the
court nobles munificent patrons by whom
they were supported, and before whom they
laid whatever pearls they were able to produce.
The new culture sought not the clash
of arms and the shout of soldiers, but the
quiet and refinement of palaces and gardens
far removed from the noise and clamor of
the world. And while emperors sought to
encourage the new learning and civilization,
and to soften the warlike qualities of
the people about them, there was a frontier[144]
along which the savages still made raids
into the territory which the Japanese had
wrested from them, and which it required
a strong arm and a quick hand to guard
for the defense of the people. But the
Emperor gradually gave up the personal
leadership in war, and passed the duty of
defending the nation into the hands of one
or another of the great noble families. The
nobles were not by any means slow to see
the advantage to be gained for themselves
by the possession of the military power in
an age when might made right, even more
than it does to-day, and when force, used
judiciously and with proper deference to
the prejudices of the people, could be made
to give to its possessor power even over
the Emperor himself. And so gradually,
in the pursuit of the new culture and the
new religion, the emperors withdrew themselves
more and more into seclusion, and
the court became a little world in itself,—a
centre of culture and refinement into
which few excitements of war or politics
ever came. While the great nobles wrangled
for the possession of the power,
schemed and fought and turned the nation
upside down; while the heroes of the country
[145]rose, lived, fought, and died,—the Emperor,
amid his ladies and his courtiers, his
priests and his literary men, spent his life
in a world of his own; thinking more of
this pair of bright eyes, that new and
charming poem, the other witty saying
of those about him, than of the kingdom
that he ruled by divine right; and
retiring, after ten years or so of puppet
kinghood, from the seclusion of his court
to the deeper seclusion of some Buddhist
monastery.
Within the sacred precincts of the court,
much time was given to such games and
pastimes as were not too rude or noisy
for the refinement that the new culture
brought with it. Polo, football, hunting
with falcons, archery, etc., were exercises
not unworthy of even the most refined of
gentlemen, and certain noble families were
trained hereditarily in the execution of certain
stately, antique dances, many of them
of Chinese or Corean origin. The ladies,
in trailing garments and with flowing hair,
reaching often below the knees, played a
not inconspicuous part, not only because of
their beauty and grace, but for their quickness
of wit, their learning in the classics,[146]
their skill in repartee, and their quaint
fancies, which they embodied in poetic
form.[26]
Much attention was given to that harmony
of art with nature that the Japanese
taste makes the of all true
artistic effort. The gorgeously embroidered
gowns must change with the changing
season, so that the cherry succeeds
the plum, the wistaria the cherry, and so on
through the whole calendar of flowers, upon
the silken robes of the court, as regularly
as in the garden that graces the palace
grounds. And so with the confectionery,
which in Japan is made in dainty imitation
of flowers and fruits. The chrysanthemum
blooms in sugar no earlier than[147]
on its own stalk; the little golden orange,
with its dark green leaves, is on the confectioner’s
list in winter, when the real orange
is yellow on its tree. The very decorations
of the palace must be changed with the
changing of the months; and and
vase are alternately stored in the and
brought out to decorate the room, according
as their designs seem in harmony with
the mood of Nature. This effort to harmonize
Nature and Art is seen to-day, not
only in the splendid furnishings of the
court, but all through the decorative art
of Japan. In every house the decorations
are changed to suit the changing seasons.
Through the years when Japan was
adopting the civilization of China, a danger
threatened the nation,—the same
danger that threatens it to-day: it was the
danger lest the adoption of so much that
was foreign should result in a servile copying
of all that was not Japanese, and lest
the introduction of literature, art, and numerous
hitherto unknown luxuries should
take from the people their independence,
patriotism, and manliness. But this result
was happily avoided; and at a time when
the language was in danger of being swept[148]
almost out of existence by the introduction
of Chinese learning through Chinese letters,
the women of Japan, not only in their
homes and conversation, but in the poetry
and lighter literature of the country, preserved
a strain of pure and graceful Japanese,
and produced some of the standard
works of a distinctly national literature.
Favor at court to-day, as in the olden
times, is the reward, not of mere rank,
beauty, and grace of person, but must be
obtained through the same intellectual endowments,
polished by years of education,
that made so many women famous in the
mediæval history of Japan. Many court
ladies have read much of their national
literature, so that they are able to appreciate
the which contain allusions
in many cases to old poems, or plays on
words; and are able to write and present
to others, at fitting times, those graceful
but untranslatable turns of phrase which
form the bulk of Japanese poetry.[27] Even[149]
in this busy era of Méiji,[28] the Emperor and
his court keep up the old-time customs,
and strive to promote a love of the beautiful
poetry of Japan. At each New Year
some subject appropriate to the time is
chosen and publicly announced. Poems
may be written upon this subject by any
one in the whole realm, and may be sent
to the palace before a certain date fixed as
the time for closing the list of competitors.
All the poems thus sent are examined by
competent judges, who select the best five
and send them to the Emperor, an honor
more desired by the writers than the most
favorable of reviews or the largest of emoluments
are desired by American poets.
Many of the other poems are published in
the newspapers. It is interesting to note
that many of the prominent men and women
of the country are known as competitors,
and that many of the court ladies
join in the contest.
There are also, at the palace, frequent
meetings of the poets and lovers of poetry[150]
connected with the court. At these meetings
poems are composed for the entertainment
of the Emperor and Empress, as
well as for the amusement of the poets
themselves.
In the school recently established for the
daughters of the nobles, under the charge
of the imperial household, much attention
is given to the work of thoroughly grounding
the scholars in the Japanese language
and literature, and also to making them
skillful in the art of composing poetry. At
the head of the school, in the highest position
held by any woman in the employ of
the government, is a former court lady,
who is second to none in the kingdom, not
only in her knowledge of all that belongs
to court etiquette, but in her study of the
history and literature of her own people,
and in her skill in the composition of these
dainty poems. A year or two ago, when
one of the scholars in the school died after
a brief decline, her schoolmates, teachers,
and school friends wrote poems upon her
death, which they sent to the bereaved
parents.
It is difficult for any Japanese, much
more so for a foreigner, to penetrate into[151]
the seclusion of the palace and see anything
of the life there, except what is
shown to the public in the occasional entertainments
given at court, such as formal
receptions and dinner parties. In
1889, the new palace, built on the site of
the old Tokugawa Castle, burnt seventeen
years ago, was finally completed; and it
was my privilege to see, before the removal
of the court, not only the grand reception
rooms, throne-room, and dining-room, but
also the private apartments of the Emperor
and Empress. The palace is built in
Japanese style, surrounded by the old castle
moats, but there are many foreign additions
to the palace and grounds. It is
heated and lighted in foreign style, and
the larger rooms are all furnished after
the magnificent manner of European palaces;
while the lacquer work, carvings,
and gorgeous paneled ceilings remind one
of the finest of Japanese temples. The
private apartments of the Emperor and
Empress are, on the other hand, most
simple, and in thorough Japanese style;
and though the woodwork and polished
floors of the corridors are very beautiful,
the paintings and lacquer work most exquisite,
[152]there is little in this simplicity
to denote the abode of royalty. It seems
that their majesties, though outwardly conforming
to many European customs, and
to the European manner of dress, prefer
to live in Japanese ways, on matted, not
carpeted floors, reposing on them rather
than on chairs and bedsteads.[*]
Their apartments are not large; each
suite consisting of three rooms opening
out of each other, the Empress’s rooms
being slightly smaller than the Emperor’s,
and those of the young Prince Haru,
the heir apparent, again a little smaller.
The young prince has a residence of his
own, and it is only on his visits that he
occupies his apartments in his father’s
palace. There are also rooms for the Empress
dowager to occupy on her occasional
visits. All of these apartments are quite
close together in one part of the palace,
and are connected by halls; but the private
rooms of the court ladies are in an
entirely separate place, quite removed, and
only connected with the main building
by a long, narrow passageway, running
through the garden. There, in the rooms
assigned to them, each one has her own[153]
private establishment, where she stays
when she is not on duty in attendance on
the Emperor and Empress. Each lady has
her own servants, and sometimes a younger
sister or a dependent may be living there
with her, though they are entirely separate
from the court and the life there, and
must never be seen in any of the other
parts of the building. In these rooms,
which are like little homes in themselves,
cooking and housekeeping are done, entirely
independent of the other parts of
the great palace; and the tradesmen find
their way through some back gate to these
little establishments, supplying them with
all the necessaries of life, as well as the
luxuries.
A court lady is a personage of distinction,
and lives in comparative ease and
luxury, with plenty of servants to do all
the necessary work. Besides her salary,
which of course varies with the rank and
the duties performed, but is always liberal
enough to cover the necessary expenses of
dress, the court lady receives many presents
from the Emperor and Empress, which
make her position one of much luxury.
The etiquette of the imperial household[154]
is very complicated and very strict, though
many of the formalities of the olden times
have been given up. The court ladies are
models of conservatism. In order to be
trained for the life there and its duties,
they usually enter the court while mere
children of ten or eleven, and serve apprenticeship
to the older members. In
the rigid seclusion of the palace they are
strictly, almost severely, brought up, and
trained in all the details of court etiquette.
Cut off from all outside influences while
young, the little court maidens are taught
to go through an endless round of formalities
which they are made to think
indispensable. These details of etiquette
extend not only to all that concerns the
imperial household, but to curious customs
among themselves, and in regard to
their own habits. Many of these ideas
have come down from one generation to
another, within the narrow limits of the
court, so that the life there is a curious
world in itself, and very unlike that in
ordinary Japanese homes.
But among all the ladies of Japan to-day,—charming,
intellectual, refined, and
lovely as many of them are,—there is no[155]
one nobler, more accomplished, more beautiful
in life and character, than the Empress
herself. The Emperor of Japan,
though he may have many concubines, may
have but one wife, and she must be chosen
out of one of the five highest noble families.[29]
Haru Ko, of the noble family of
Ichijō, became Empress in the year 1868,
one year after her husband, then a boy of
seventeen, had ascended the throne, and
the very year of the overthrow of the Shōgunate,[30]
and the restoration of the Emperor
[156]to actual power and the leading part
in the government. Reared amid the deep
and scholarly seclusion of the old court at
Kyōto, the young Empress found herself
occupying a position very different from
that for which she had been educated,—a
position the duties and responsibilities of
which grow more multifarious as the years
go by. Instead of a life of rigid seclusion,
unseeing and unseen, the Empress has had
to go forth into the world, finding there
the pleasures as well as the duties of actual
leadership. With the removal of the court
to Tōkyō, and the reappearance of the Emperor,
in bodily form, before his people,
there came new opportunities for the Empress,
and nobly has she used them. From
the time when, in 1871, she gave audience
to the five little girls of the samurai class
who were just setting forth on a journey
to America, there to study and fit themselves
to play a part in the Japan of the
future, on through twenty years of change[157]
and progress, the Empress Haru Ko has
done all that lay within her power to advance
the women of her country.[*] Many
stories are afloat which show the lovable
character of the woman, and which have
given her an abiding place in the affections
of the people.
Some years ago, when the castle in
Tōkyō was burned, and the Emperor and
Empress were obliged to take refuge in an
old daimiō’s house, a place entirely lacking
in luxuries and considerably out of repair,
some one expressed to her the grief that
all her people felt, that she should have to
put up with so many inconveniences. Her
response was a graceful little poem, in
which she said that the narrowness of her
abode would not limit her love for her
people, and that for them she would endeavor
to explore wisely the unlimited fields
of knowledge.
Upon another occasion, when Prince Iwakura,
one of the leaders of Japan in the
early days of the crisis through which the
country is still passing, lay dying at his
home, the Empress sent him word that
she was coming to visit him. The prince,
afraid that he could not do honor to such[158]
a guest, sent her word back that he was
very ill, and unable to make proper preparation
to entertain an Empress. To this
the Empress replied that he need make no
preparations for her, for she was coming,
not as an Empress, but as the daughter of
Ichijō, his old friend and colleague, and as
such he could receive her. And then, setting
aside imperial state and etiquette, she
visited the dying statesman, and brightened
his last hours with the thought of
how lovely a woman stood as an example
before the women of his beloved country.
Many of the charities and schools of new
Japan are under the Empress’s special
patronage; and this does not mean simply
that she allows her name to be used in
connection with them, but it means that
she thinks of them, studies them, asks
questions about them, and even practices
little economies that she may have the
more money to give to them. There is a
charity hospital in Tōkyō, having in connection
with it a training school for nurses,
that is one of the special objects of her
care. Last year she gave to it, at the
end of the year, the savings from her own
private allowance, and concerning this act[159]
an editorial from the “Japan Mail” speaks
as follows:—
“The life of the Empress of Japan is an
unvarying routine of faithful duty-doing
and earnest charity. The public, indeed,
hears with a certain listless indifference,
engendered by habit, that her Majesty has
visited this school, or gone round the wards
at that hospital. Such incidents all seem
to fall naturally into the routine of the
imperial day’s work. Yet to the Empress
the weariness of long hours spent in classrooms
or in laboratories, or by the beds of
the sick, must soon become quite intolerable
did she not contrive, out of the goodness
of her heart, to retain a keen and
kindly interest in everything that concerns
the welfare of her subjects. That her Majesty
does feel this interest, and that it
grows rather than diminishes as the years
go by, every one knows who has been present
on any of the innumerable occasions
when the promoters of some charity or the
directors of some educational institution
have presented, with merciless precision,
all the petty details of their projects or
organizations for the examination of the
imperial lady. The latest evidence of her[160]
Majesty’s benevolence is, however, more
than usually striking. Since the founding
of the Tōkyō Charity Hospital, where so
many poor women and children are treated,
the Empress has watched the institution
closely, has bestowed on it patronage of the
most active and helpful character, and has
contributed handsomely to its funds. Little
by little the hospital grew, extending its
sphere of action and enlarging its ministrations,
until the need of more capacious
premises—a need familiar to such undertakings—began
to be strongly felt. The
Empress, knowing this, cast about for some
means of assisting this project. To practice
strict economy in her own personal
expenses, and to devote whatever money
might thus be saved from her yearly income
to the aid of the hospital, appears
to have suggested itself to her Majesty
as the most feasible method of procedure.
The result is, that a sum of 8,446 yen, 90
sen, and 8 rin has just been handed over
to Dr. Takagi, the chief promoter and
mainstay of the hospital, by Viscount
Kagawa, one of her Majesty’s chamberlains.
There is something picturesque
about these sen and rin. They represent[161]
an account minutely and faithfully kept
between her Majesty’s unavoidable expenses
and the benevolent impulse that constantly
urged her to curtail them. Such gracious
acts of sterling effort command admiration
and love.”
Not very long ago, on one of her visits to
the hospital, the Empress visited the children’s
ward, and took with her toys, which
she gave with her own hand to each child
there. When we consider that this hospital
is free to the poorest and lowest person
in Tōkyō, and that twenty years ago the
persons of the Emperor and Empress were
so sacred in the eyes of the people that no
one but the highest nobles and the near
officials of the court could come into their
presence,—that even these high nobles
were received at court by the Emperor at
a distance of many feet, and his face even
then could not be seen,—when we think of
all this, we can begin to appreciate what
the Empress Haru has done in bridging
the distance between herself and her
people so that the poorest child of a beggar
may receive a gift from her hand. In
the country places to this day, there are
peasants who yet believe that no one can[162]
look on the sacred face of the Emperor
and live.
The school for the daughters of the
nobles, to which I have before referred, is
an institution whose welfare the Empress
has very closely at heart, for she sees the
need of rightly combining the new and the
old in the education of the young girls
who will so soon be filling places in the
court. At the opening of the school the
Empress was present, and herself made a
speech to the scholars; and her visits, at
intervals of one or two months, show her
continued interest in the work that she
has begun. Upon all state occasions, the
scholars, standing with bowed heads as if
in prayer, sing a little song written for
them by the Empress herself; and at the
graduating exercises, the speeches and addresses
are listened to by her with the profoundest
interest. The best specimens of
poetry, painting, and composition done by
the scholars are sent to the palace for her
inspection, and some of these are kept by
her in her own private rooms. When she
visits the class-rooms, she does not simply
pass in and pass out again, as if doing a
formal duty, but sits for half an hour or so[163]
listening intently, and watching the faces
of the scholars as they recite. In sewing
and cooking classes (for the daughters of
the nobles are taught to sew and cook),
she sometimes speaks to the scholars, asking
them questions. Upon one occasion
she observed a young princess, a newcomer
in the school, working somewhat awkwardly
with needle and thimble. “The
first time, Princess, is it not?” said the
Empress, smiling, and the embarrassed
Princess was obliged to confess that this
was her first experience with those domestic
implements.
Sometimes in her leisure hours—and
they are rare in her busy life—the Empress
amuses herself by receiving the little
daughters of some imperial prince or
nobleman, or even the children of some of
the high officials. In the kindness of her
heart, she takes great pleasure in seeing
and talking to these little ones, some of
whom are intensely awed by being in the
presence of the Empress, while others, in
their innocence, ignorant of all etiquette,
prattle away unrestrainedly, to the great
entertainment of the court ladies as well
as of the Empress herself. These visits[164]
always end with some choice toy or gift,
which the child takes home and keeps
among her most valued treasures in remembrance
of her imperial hostess. In
this way the Empress relieves the loneliness
of the great palace, where the sound
of childish voices is seldom heard, for the
Emperor’s children are brought up in separate
establishments, and only pay occasional
visits to the palace, until they have
passed early childhood.[31]
The present life of the Empress is not
very different from that of European royalty.
Her carriage and escort are frequently
met with in the streets of Tōkyō
as she goes or returns on one of her numerous
visits of ceremony or beneficence.
Policemen keep back the crowds of people
who always gather to see the imperial
carriage, and stand respectfully, but without
demonstration, while the horsemen
carrying the imperial insignia, followed[165]
closely by the carriages of the Empress
and her attendants, pass by. The official
Gazette announces almost daily visits by
the Emperor, Empress, or other members
of the imperial family, to different places of
interest,—sometimes to various palaces
in different parts of Tōkyō, at other times
to schools, charitable institutions or exhibitions,
as well as occasional visits to the
homes of high officials or nobles, for which
great preparations are made by those who
have the honor of entertaining their Majesties.
Among the amusements within the palace
grounds, one lately introduced, and at
present in high favor, is that of horseback-riding,
an exercise hitherto unknown to
the ladies of Japan. The Empress and her
ladies are said to be very fond of this active
exercise,—an amusement forming a
striking contrast to the quiet of former
years.
The grounds about the palaces in Tōkyō
are most beautifully laid out and cultivated,
but not in that artificial manner, with regular
flower beds and trees at certain equal
distances, which is seen so often in the
highly cultivated grounds of the rich in[166]
this country. The landscape gardening of
Japan keeps unchanged the wildness and
beauty of nature, and imitates it closely.
The famous flowers, however, are, in the
imperial gardens, changed by art and cultivated
to their highest perfection, blooming
each season for the enjoyment of the
members of the court. Especially is attention
given to the cultivation of the imperial
flower of Japan, the chrysanthemum;
and some day in November, when this
flower is in its perfection, the gates of the
Akasaka palace are thrown open to invited
guests, who are received in person by the
Emperor and Empress. Here the rarest
species of this favorite flower, and the oddest
colors and shapes, the results of much
care and cultivation, are exhibited in spacious
beds, shaded by temporary roofs of
bamboo twigs and decorated with the imperial
flags. This is the great chrysanthemum
party of the Emperor, and another
of similar character is given in the spring
under the flower-laden boughs of the cherry
trees.
In these various ways the Empress shows
herself to her people,—a gracious and
lovely figure, though distant, as she needs[167]
must be, from common, every-day life.
Only by glimpses do the people know her,
but those glimpses reveal enough to excite
the warmest admiration, the most tender
love. Childless herself, destined to see
a child not her own, although her husband’s,
heir to the throne, the Empress
devotes her lonely and not too happy life
to the actual, personal study of the wants
of daughters of her people, and side by
side with Jingo,[32] the majestic but shadowy
Empress of the past, should be enshrined
in the hearts of the women of Japan the
memory of Haru Ko, the leader of her
countrywomen into that freer and happier
life that is opening to them.
[168]
Each marks the beginning of a new era,—the
first, of the era of civilization and
morality founded upon the teachings of
Buddha and Confucius; the second, of the
civilization and morality that have sprung
from the teachings of Christ. Buddhism
and Confucianism were elevating and civilizing,
but failed to place the women of
Japan upon even as high a plane as they
had occupied in the old barbaric times. To
Christianity they must look for the security
and happiness which it has never failed to
give to the wives and mothers of all Christian
nations.[*]
Footnotes:
[25] The Japanese claim for their present Emperor direct descent from Jimmu Tenno, the Son of the Gods; and it is for this reason that the Emperor is supposed to be divine, and the representative of the gods on the earth. The dynasty, for about twenty-five hundred years since Jimmu Tenno, has never been broken. It must, however, be said in connection with this statement, that the Japanese family is a much looser organization than that known to our Western civilization, on account of the customs of concubinage and adoption, and that descent through family lines is not necessarily actual descent by blood. [26] In ancient times, before the long civil wars of the Middle Ages, much attention was given by both men and women to poetry, and many of the classics of Japanese literature are the works of women. Among these distinguished writers can be mentioned Murasaki Shikibu, Seishō Nagon, and Iséno Taiyu, all court ladies in the time of the Emperor Ichijō (about 1000 A. D.). The court at that time was the centre of learning, and much encouragement was given by the Emperor to literary pursuits, the cultivation of poetry, and music. The Emperor gathered around him talented men and women, but the great works that remain are, strange to say, mostly those of women. [27] The court ladies in immediate contact with the Emperor and Empress are selected from the daughters of the nobles. Only in the present reign have a few samurai women risen to high positions at court on account of special talents. [28] (Enlightened Rule) is the name of the era that began with the present Emperor’s accession to the throne. The year A. D. 1890 is the twenty-third year of Méiji, and would be so designated in all Japanese dates. [29] The Empresses of Japan are not chosen from any branch of the imperial family, but from among the daughters of the five of the great , or court nobles, who are next in rank to the imperial princes. The choice usually rests with the Emperor or his advisers, and would be naturally given to the most worthy, whether in beauty or accomplishments. No doubt one reason why the Empress is regarded as far below the Emperor is, that she is not of royal blood, but one of the subjects of the Empire. In the old times, the daughters of the Emperor could never marry, as all men were far beneath them in rank. These usually devoted their lives to religion, and as Shintō priestesses or Buddhist nuns dwelt in the retirement of temple courts or the seclusion of cloisters. [30] Tokugawa Shōguns were the military rulers of the Tokugawa family, who held the power in Japan for a period of two hundred and fifty years. They are better known to Americans, perhaps, under the title of (Great Prince), a name assumed, or rather revived, to impress the foreigners when Commodore Perry was negotiating in regard to treaties. The Shōgun held the daimiōs in forced subjection,—a subjection that was shaken in 1862, and broken at last in the year 1868, when, by the fall of the Shōgunate, the Emperor was restored to direct power over his people. [31] The Emperor’s children are placed, from birth, in the care of some noble or high official, who becomes the guardian of the child. Certain persons are appointed as attendants, and the child with its retinue lives in the establishment of the guardian, who is supposed to exercise his judgment and experience in the physical and mental training of the child. [32] Jingo Kōgō, like many of the heroic, half mythical figures of other nations, has suffered somewhat under the assaults of the modern historical criticism. Many of the best Japanese historians deny that she conquered Corea; some go so far as to doubt whether she had right to the title of Empress; all are sure that much of romance has gathered about the figure of this brave woman; but to the mass of the Japanese to-day, she is still an actual historic reality, and she represents to them in feminine form the Spirit of Japan. Whether she conquered Corea or no, she remains the prominent female figure upon the border line where the old barbaric life merges into the newer civilization, just as the present Empress, Haru Ko, stands upon the border line between the Eastern and the Western modes of thought and life. [169]
CHAPTER VII.
LIFE IN CASTLE AND YASHIKI.[33]
The seclusion of the Emperors and the
gathering of the reins of government into
the hands of Shōguns was a gradual process,
beginning not long after the introduction
of Chinese civilization, and continuing
to grow until Iyéyasŭ, the founder
of the Tokugawa dynasty, through his code
of laws, took from the Emperor the last
vestige of real power, and perfected the
feudal system which maintained the sway[170]
of his house for two hundred and fifty years
of peace.
The Emperor’s court, with its literary
and æsthetic quiet, its simplicity of life and
complexity of etiquette, was the centre of
the culture and art of Japan, but never
the centre of luxury. After the growth of
the Tokugawa power had secured for that
house and its retainers great hereditary
possessions, the Emperor’s court was a
mere shadow in the presence of the magnificence
in which the Tokugawas and the
daimiōs chose to live. The wealth of the
country was in the hands of those who
held the real power, and the Emperor
was dependent for his support upon his
great vassal, who held the land, collected
the taxes, made the laws, and gave to his
master whatever seemed necessary for his
maintenance in the simple style of the old
days, keeping for himself and for his retainers
enough to make Yedo, the Tokugawa
capital, the centre of a luxury far
surpassing anything ever seen at the Emperor’s
own court. While the , the
old imperial nobility, formerly the governors
of the provinces under the Emperors,
lived in respectable but often extreme poverty
[171]at Kyōto, the landed nobility, or daimiōs,
brought, after many struggles, under
the sway of the Tokugawas, built for themselves
palaces and pleasure gardens in the
moated city of Yedo. At Yedo with its castle,
its gardens, its , and its fortifications,
was established a new court, more
luxurious, but less artistic and cultivated,
than the old court of Kyōto. In the various
provinces, too, at every castle town, a
little court arose about the castle, and the
daimiō became not only the feudal chief,
but the patron of literature and art among
his people, as the years went by filling his
with choice works of art, in lacquer,
bronze, silver, and pottery, to be brought
out on special occasions. These nobles,
under a law of Iyémitsŭ, the third of the
Tokugawa line, were compelled to spend
half of each year at the city of the Shōguns;
and each had his , or large
house and garden, in the city. At this
house, his family must reside permanently,
as hostages for the loyalty of their lord
while away. The annual journeys to and
from Yedo were events not only in the lives
of the daimiōs and their trains of retainers,
but in the lives of the country people who[172]
lived along the roads by which they must
travel. The time and style of each journey
for each daimiō were rigidly prescribed in
the laws of Iyémitsŭ, as well as the behavior
of the country people who might
meet the procession moving towards Yedo,
or returning therefrom. When some noble,
or any member of his family, was to pass
through a certain section of the country,
great preparations were made beforehand.
Not only was traffic stopped along the
route, but every door and window had to
be closed. By no means was any one to
show himself, or to look in any way upon
the passing procession. To do so was to
commit a profane deed, punishable by a
fine. Among other things, no cooking was
allowed on that day. All the food must be
prepared the day before, as the air was
supposed to become polluted by the smoke
from the fires. Thus through crowded
cities, full and busy with life, the daimiō
in his curtained palanquin, with numerous
retinue, would pass by; but wherever he
approached, the place would be as deserted
and silent as if plague-stricken. It is
hardly necessary to add that these journeys,
attended with so much ceremony and[173]
inconvenience to the people, were not as
frequent as the trips now taken, at a moment’s
notice, from one city to another,
by these very same men.
One story current in Tōkyō shows the
narrowing effect of such seclusion. A
noble who had traveled into Yedo, across
one of the large bridges built over the
Sumida River, remarked one day to his
companions that he was greatly disappointed
on seeing that bridge. “From the
pictures,” he said, “which I have seen, the
bridge seemed alive with people, the centre
of life and activity, but the artists must exaggerate,
for not a soul was on the bridge
when I passed by.”
The castle of the Shōgun in Yedo, with
its moats and fortifications, and its fine
house and great , was reproduced on a
small scale in the castles scattered through
the country; and as in Yedo the
of the daimiōs stood next to the inner
moat of the castle, that the retainers might
be ready to defend their lord at his earliest
call, so in the provinces the of the
samurai occupied a similar position about
the daimiō’s castle.
It is curious to see that, as the Shōgun[174]
took away the military and temporal power
of the Emperor, making of him only a
figure-head without real power, so, to a
certain degree, the daimiō gave up, little by
little, the personal control of his own province,
the power falling into the hands of
ambitious samurai, who became the councilors
of their lord. The samurai were
the learned class and the military class;
they were and are the life of Japan; and
it is no wonder that the nobles, protected
and shielded from the world, and growing
up without much education, should have
changed in the course of centuries from
strong, brave warriors into the delicate, effeminate,
luxury-loving nobles of the present
day. Upon the loyalty and wisdom of
the samurai, often upon some one man of
undoubted ability, rested the greatness of
the province and the prosperity of the master’s
house.
The life of the ladies in these daimiōs’
houses is still a living memory to many of
the older women of Japan; but it is a memory
only, and has given place to a different
state of things. The Emperor occupies
the castle of the Shōgun to-day, and every
daimiō’s castle throughout the country is[175]
in the hands of the imperial government.
The old pleasure gardens of the nobles are
turned into arsenals, schools, public parks,
and other improvements of the new era.
But here and there one finds some conservative
family of nobles still keeping up in
some measure the customs of former times;
and daimiōs’ houses there are still in Tōkyō,
though stripped of power and of retainers,
where life goes on in many ways much as
it did in the old days. In such a house as
this, one finds ladies-in-waiting, of the samurai
rank, who serve her ladyship—the
daimiō’s wife—in all personal service. In
the old days, the daughters of the samurai
were eager for the training in etiquette,
and in all that belongs to nice housekeeping,
that might be obtained by a few years
of apprenticeship in a daimiō’s house, and
gladly assumed the most menial positions
for the sake of the education and reputation
to be gained by such training.
The wife and daughters of a daimiō led
the quietest of lives, rarely passing beyond
the four great walls that inclose the palace
with its grounds. They saw the changes
of the seasons in the flowers that bloomed
in their lovely gardens, when, followed by[176]
numerous attendants, they slowly walked
through the bamboo groves or under the
bloom-laden boughs of the plum or cherry
trees, forming their views of life, its pleasures,
its responsibilities, and its meaning,
within the narrow limits of the daimiō’s
.
Their mornings were passed in the
adorning of their own persons, and in the
elaborate dressing of their luxuriant hair;
the afternoons were spent in the tea ceremony,
in writing poetry, or the execution
of a sort of silk mosaic that is a favorite
variety of fancy work still among the ladies
of Japan.
A story is told of one of the Tokugawa
princesses that illustrates the amusements
of the Shōgun’s daughters, and the pains
that were taken to gratify their wishes,
however unreasonable. The cherry-trees
of the castle gardens of Tōkyō are noted
for their beauty when in bloom during the
month of April. It is said that once a
daughter of the Tokugawa house expressed
a wish to give a garden party amid the
blossoming cherry-trees in the month
of December, and nothing would do but
that her wishes must be carried out. Her[177]
retainers accordingly summoned to their
aid skillful artificers, who from pink and
white tissue paper produced myriads of
cherry blossoms, so natural that they could
hardly be distinguished from the real ones.
These they fastened upon the trees in just
such places as the real flowers would have
chosen to occupy, and the happy princess
gave her garden party in December under
the pink mist of cherry blooms.
The children of a daimiō’s wife occupied
her attention but little. They were placed
in the charge of careful attendants, and the
mother, though allowed to see them when
she wished, was deprived of the pleasure of
constant intercourse with them, and had
none of the mother’s cares which form so
large a part of life to an ordinary Japanese
woman.
When we know that the average Japanese
girl is brought up strictly by her own
mother, and thoroughly drilled in obedience
and in all that is proper as regards
etiquette and the duties of woman, we can
imagine the narrowness of the education
of the daimiō’s poor little daughter, surrounded,
from early childhood, with numerous
attendants of the strictest sort, to[178]
teach her all that is proper according to
the highest and severest standards. Sometimes,
by the whim or the indulgence of
parents, or through exceptional circumstances
in her surroundings, a samurai’s
daughter became more independent, more
self-reliant, or better educated, than others
of her rank; but such opportunities
never came to the more carefully reared
noble’s daughter.
From her earliest childhood, she was
addressed in the politest and most formal
way, so that she could not help acquiring
polite manners and speech. She was
taught etiquette above all things, so that
no rude action or speech would disgrace
her rank; and that she should give due
reverence to her superiors, courtesy to
equals, and polite condescension to inferiors.
She was taught especially to show
kindness to the families under the rule of
her father, and was early told of the noble’s
duty to protect and love his retainers, as
a father loves and protects his children.
From childhood, presents were made in
her name to those around her, often without
her previous knowledge or permission,
and from them she would receive profuse[179]
thanks,—lessons in the delights of beneficence
which could not fail to make
their impression on the child princess.
Even to inferiors she used the polite language,[34]
and never the rude, brusque speech
of men, or the careless phrases and expressions
of the lower classes.
The education of the daimiō’s daughter
was conducted entirely at home.[35] Instead
of going out to masters for instruction,
she was taught by some one in the household,—one
of her father’s retainers, or
perhaps a member of her own private retinue.
Teachers for certain branches came
from outside, and these were not expected
to give the lesson within a certain time
and hurry away, but they would remain,[180]
conversing, sipping tea, and partaking of
sweetmeats, until their noble pupil was
ready to receive them. Hospitality required
that the teacher be offered a meal
after the lesson, and this meal etiquette
would not permit him to refuse, so that
both teacher and pupil must spend much
time waiting for each other and for the
lesson.
Pursued in this leisurely way, the education
of the noble’s daughter could not
advance very rapidly, and it usually ended
with an extremely early marriage; and the
girl wife would sometimes play with her
doll in the new home until the living baby
took its place to the young mother.
The samurai women, who in one position
or another were close attendants on these
noble ladies, performing for them every
act of service, were often women of more
than average intelligence and education.
From childhood to old age, the noble ladies
were never without one or more of these
maids of honor, close at hand to help or
advise. Some entered the service in the
lower positions for only a short period,
leaving sooner or later to be married; for
continued service in a daimiō’s household[181]
meant a single life. Many of them remained
in the palace all their days, leading
lives of devotion to their mistress; the
comfort and ease of which hardly compensated
for the endless formalities and the
monotonous seclusion.
Even the less responsible and more menial
positions were not looked down upon,
and the higher offices in the household
were exceedingly honorable. When, once
in a long while, a day’s leave of absence
was granted to one of these gentlewomen,
and, loaded with presents sent by the daimiō’s
lady, she went on her visit to her
home, she was received as a greatly honored
member of her own family. The respect
which was paid to her knowledge of
etiquette and dress was never lessened
because of the menial services she might
have performed for those of noble blood.
The lady who was the head attendant,
and those in the higher positions, had a
great deal of power and influence in matters
that concerned their mistress and the
household; just as the male retainers decided
for the prince, and in their own
way, many of the affairs of the province.
The few conservative old ladies, the last[182]
relics of the numerous retainers that once
filled the castle, who still remain faithful
in attendance in the homes now deprived
of the grandeur of the olden times, look
with horror upon the innovations of the
present day, and sigh for the glory of old
Japan. It is only upon compulsion that
they give up many of the now useless formalities,
and resign themselves to seeing
their once so honored lords jostle elbow to
elbow with the common citizen.
I shall never forget the horror of one
old lady, attendant on a noble’s daughter
of high rank, just entering the peeress’
school, when it was told her that each student
must carry in her own bundle of books
and arrange them herself, and that the attendants
were not allowed in the classroom.
The poor old lady was doubtless
indignant at the thought that her noble-born
mistress should have to perform even
so slight a task as the arranging of her
own desk unaided.[*]
In the daimiōs’ houses there was little
of the culture or wit that graced the more
aristocratic seclusion of Kyōto, and none
of the duties and responsibilities that belonged
to the samurai women, so that the[183]
life of the daimiō’s lady was perhaps more
purposeless, and less stimulating to the
noble qualities, than the lives of any other
of the women of Japan. Surrounded by
endless restrictions of etiquette, lacking
both the stimulus that comes from physical
toil and that to be derived from intellectual
exertion, the ladies of this class of the
nobility simply vegetated. There is little
wonder that the nobles degenerated both
mentally and physically during the years
when the Tokugawas held sway; for there
was absolutely nothing in the lives of the
women to fit them to be the wives and
mothers of strong men. Delicate, dainty,
refined, dexterous in all manner of little
things but helpless to act for themselves,—ladies
to the inmost core of their beings,
with instincts of honor and of
appearing in them from earliest childhood,—the
years of seclusion, of deference from
hundreds of retainers, of constant instruction
in the duties as well as the dignities
of their position, have produced an abiding
effect upon the minds of the women of this
aristocracy, and to-day even the youngest
and smallest of them have the virtues as
well as the failings produced by nearly[184]
three centuries of training. They are lacking
in force, in ambition, in clearness of
thought, among a nation abounding in
those qualities; but the national characteristics
of dignity, charming manners,
a quick sense of honor, and indomitable
pride of race and nation, combined with
a personal modesty almost deprecating in
its humility,—these are found among the
daughters of the nobles developed to their
highest extent. With the qualities of gentleness
and delicacy possessed by these ladies,
which make them shrink from rough
contact with the outer world, there are
mingled the stronger qualities of moral
and physical courage. A daimiō’s wife,
as befitted the wife of a warrior and the
daughter of long generations of brave men,
never shrank from facing danger and death
when necessary; and considered the taking
of her own life an honorable and easy escape
from being captured by her enemy.
Two or three little ripples from the past
broke into my life in Tōkyō, giving a little
insight into those old feudal times, and the
customs that were common then, but that
are now gone forever. A story was told
me in Japan by a lady who had herself, as[185]
a child, witnessed the events narrated. It
illustrates the responsibility felt by the retainers
for their lord and his house. A
daimiō fell into disgrace with the Shōgun,
and was banished to his own capital,—a
castle town several days’ journey from
Yedo,—as a punishment for some offense.
The castle gates were closed, and no communication
with the outer world allowed.
During this period of disgrace, it happened
that the noble fell ill, and died quite suddenly
before his punishment was ended.
His death under such circumstances was
the most terrible thing that could befall
either himself or his family, as his funeral
must be without the ordinary tokens of respect;
and his tombstone, instead of bearing
tribute to his virtues, and the favor in
which he had been held by his lord, must
be simply the monument of his disgrace.
This being the case, the retainers felt that
these evils must be averted at any cost.
Knowing that the Shōgun’s anger was
probably not so great as to make him wish
to bring eternal disgrace to their dead
lord, they at once decided to send a messenger
to the Shōgun, begging for pardon
on the plea of desperate illness, and asking
[186]the restoration of his favor before the
approach of death. The death was not
announced, but the floor of the room in
which the man had died was lifted up, and
the body let down to the ground beneath;
and through all the town it was announced
that the daimiō was hopelessly ill. Forty
days passed before the Shōgun sent to the
retainers the token that the disgrace was
removed, and during all those forty days,
in castle and barrack and village, the fiction
of the daimiō’s illness was kept up.
As soon as the messengers returned, the
body was drawn up again through the floor
and placed on the bed; and all the retainers,
from the least unto the greatest,
were summoned into the room to congratulate
their master upon his restoration to
favor. One by one they entered the darkened
room, prostrated themselves before
the corpse, and uttered the formal words
of congratulation. Then when all, even to
the little girl who, grown to womanhood,
told me the story, had been through the
horrible ceremony, it was announced that
the master was dead,—that he had died
immediately after the return of the messenger
with the good tidings of pardon.[187]
All obstacles being thus removed, the funeral
was celebrated with due pomp and
circumstance; and the tombstone of the
daimiō to-day gives no hint of the disgrace
from which he so narrowly escaped.
Another instance very similar, throwing
some light on the custom of adoption or
, referred to in a previous chapter, was
the case of a nobleman who died without
children, and without an heir appointed to
inherit his title. It would never have done,
in sending in the official notice of death, to
be unable to name the legal head of the
house and the successor to the title. There
was also no male relative to perform the
office of chief mourner at the funeral; and
so the death of the nobleman was kept
secret, and his house showed no signs of
mourning during a long period, until a
son satisfactory to all the members of the
household had been adopted. When the
legal notice of the adoption had been sent
in, and the son received into the family as
heir, then, and only then, was the death of
the lord announced, the period of mourning
begun, and the funeral ceremony performed.
Upon one occasion I was visiting a Japanese
[188]lady, who knew the interest that I
took in seeing and procuring the old-fashioned
embroidered , which are now
entirely out of style in Japan, and which
can only be obtained at second-hand clothing
stores, or at private sale. My friend
said that she had just been shown an assortment
of old garments which were offered
at private sale by the heirs of a lady,
recently deceased, who had once been a
maid of honor in a daimiō’s house. The
clothes were still in the house, and were
brought in, in a great basket, for my inspection.
Very beautiful garments they
were, of silk, crêpe, and linen, embroidered
elaborately, and in extremely good order.
Many of them seemed not to have been
worn at all, but had been kept folded away
for years, and only brought out when a fitting
occasion came round at the proper
season of the year. As we turned over the
beautiful fabrics, a black broadcloth garment
at the bottom of the basket aroused
my curiosity, and I pulled it out and held
it up for closer inspection. A curious garment
it was, bound with white, and with a
great white crest on the middle of
the back. Curious white stripes gave the[189]
coat a military look, and it seemed appropriate
rather to the wardrobe of some two-sworded
warrior than to that of a gentlewoman
of the old type. To the question,
How did such a coat come to be in such a
place? the older lady of the company—one
to whom the old days were still the
natural order and the new customs an exotic
growth—explained that the garment
rightfully belonged in the wardrobe of any
lady-in-waiting in a daimiō’s house, for it
was made to wear in case of fire or attack
when the men were away, and the women
were expected to guard the premises. Further
search among the relics of the past
brought to light the rest of the costume:
silk , or full kilted trousers; a stiff,
manlike black silk cap bound with a white
band; and a spear cover of broadcloth, with
a great white crest upon it, like the one on
the broadcloth coat. These made up the
uniform which must be donned in time of
need by the ladies of the palace or the
castle, for the defense of their lord’s property.
They had been folded away for twenty
years among the embroidered robes, to
come to light at last for the purpose of
showing to a foreigner a phase of the old[190]
life that was so much a matter of course to
the older Japanese that it never occurred
to them even to mention it to a stranger.
The elder lady of the house was wonderfully
amused at my interest in these mute
memorials of the past, and could never comprehend
why I was willing to expend the
sum of one dollar for the sake of gaining
possession of a set of garments for which I
could have no possible use. The uniform
had probably never been worn in actual
warfare, but its owner had been trained
in the use of the long-handled spear, the
cover of which she had kept stored away
all these years; and had regarded herself
as liable to be called into action at any
time as one of the home guard, when the
male retainers of her lord were in the field.
There are in the shops of Tōkyō to-day
hundreds of colored prints illustrating the
splendor of the Shōgunate; for the fine
clothes, the pageants, the show and display
that ended with the fall of the house of
Tokugawa, are still dear to the popular
mind. In these one sees reproduced, in
more than their original brilliancy of coloring,
the daimiōs, with their trains of uniformed
retainers, proceeding in stately pageant
[191]to the palace of the Shōgun; the
games, the dances, the reviews held before
the Shōgun himself; the princess, with her
train of ladies and attendants, visiting the
cherry blossoms at Uyéno, or crossing some
swift but shallow river on her journey to
Yedo. There one sees the fleet of red-lacquered
pleasure barges in which the
Shōgun with his court sailed up the river
to Mukōjima, in the spring, to view the
cherry-trees which bloom along the banks
for miles. One sees, too, the interiors of
the daimiōs’ houses, the intimate domestic
scenes into which no outsider could ever
penetrate. One picture shows the excitements
consequent upon the advent of an
heir to a noble house,—the happy mother
on her couch, surrounded by brightly
dressed ladies-in-waiting; the baby in the
room adjoining; another group of brilliant
beings preparing his bath; while down the
long piazza, which opens upon the little
courtyard in the centre of the house, one
sees still other groups of servants, bringing
the gifts with which the great mansion
is flooded at such a time. Still further
away, across the courtyard, are the doctors,
holding learned consultation around a little[192]
table, and mixing medicines to secure the
health and strength of both mother and
baby.
The fall of the Shōgunate, and the abolition
of castle and , have made a
radical change in the fashions of dress in
Japan. One sees no longer the beautiful
embroidered robes, except upon the stage,
for the abolition of the great leisure class
has put the flowered out of fashion.
There are no courts, small and great, scattered
all through the country, where the
ladies must be dressed in changing styles
for the changing seasons, and where the
embroideries that imitate most closely the
natural flowers are sure of a market.
When one asks, as every foreigner is likely
to ask, the Japanese ladies of one’s acquaintance,
“Why have you given up the
beautiful embroideries and gorgeous colors
that you used to wear?” the answer
always is, “There are no daimiōs’ houses
now.” And this is regarded as a sufficient
explanation of the change.[*]
I have in my possession to-day two dainty
bits of the silk mosaic work before mentioned,
the work of the sixteen-year-old
wife of one of the proudest and most conservative
[193]of the present generation of nobles.
A dainty little creature she was,
with a face upon which her two years of
wifehood and one year of motherhood had
left no trace of care. Living amid her
host of ladies and women servants, most of
them older and wiser than herself; having
no care and no amusements save the easy
task of keeping herself pretty and well-dressed,
and the amusement of watching
her baby grow, and hearing the chance
rumors that might come to her from the
great new world into which her husband
daily went, but with which she herself
never mingled,—her days were one pleasant,
monotonous round, unawakening alike
either to soul or intellect. Into this life of
remoteness from all that belongs to the
new era, imagine the excitement produced
by the advent of a foreign lady, with an
educated dog, whose wonderful intelligence
had been already related to her by one of
her own ladies-in-waiting. I shall always
believe that my invitation into that exclusive
house was due largely to the reports
of my dog, carried to its proprietors by one
of the lady servitors who had seen him perform
upon one occasion. Certain it is that[194]
the first words of the little lady of the
house to me were a question about the dog;
and her last act of politeness to our party
was a warm embrace of the handsome
collie, who had given unimpeachable evidence
that he understood a great deal of
English,—a tongue which the daimiō himself
was painfully learning. The dainty
child-wife with both arms buried in the
heavy ruff of the astonished dog is a picture
that comes to me often, and that
brings up most pathetically the monotony
of an existence into which so small a thing
can bring so much. The lifelike black and
white silk puppy, the creeping baby doll
from Kyōto, the silk mosaic box and chopstick
case,—the work of my lady’s delicate
fingers,—are most agreeable reminders
of the kindness and sweetness of the
little wife, whose sixteen summers have
been spent among the surroundings of
thirty years ago, and who lives, like the
enchanted princess of the fairy tales,
wrapped about by a spell which separates
her from the bustling world of to-day. The
product of the past,—the daughter of the
last of the Shōguns,—she dwells in her
enchanted house, among the relics of a[195]
past which is still the present to her and
to her household. So lovely, so æsthetic,
so dainty and charming seems the world
into which one enters there, that one
would not care to break the spell that
holds it as it is, and let the girl-wife,
with her gentlewomen and her kneeling
servants, hurry forward into the busy,
perplexing life of to-day. May time deal
gently with her and hers, nor rudely break
the enchantment that surrounds her!
Footnotes:
[33] , or spread-out house, was the name given to the palace and grounds of a daimiō’s city residence, and also to the barracks occupied by his retainers, both in city and country. In the city the barracks of the samurai were built as a hollow square, in the centre of which stood the palace and grounds of their lord, and this whole place was the daimiō’s . In the castle towns the daimiō’s palace and gardens stood within the castle inclosure, surrounded by a moat, while the of the samurai were placed without the moat. They in turn were separated from the business part of the village sometimes by a second or third moat. By life in castle and we mean the life of the daimiō, whether in city or country. [34] The Japanese language is full of expressions showing different shades of meaning in the politeness or respect implied. There are words and expressions which superiors in rank use to inferiors, or , and others used among equals. Some phrases belong especially to the language of the high-born, just as there are common expressions of the people. Some verbs in this extremely complex language must be altered in their termination according to the degree of honor in which the subject of the action is held in the speaker’s mind. [35] The establishment of the peeress’ school, mentioned in the last chapter, is a great innovation upon the old-time ways of many of the aristocratic families. [196]
CHAPTER VIII.
SAMURAI WOMEN.
Samurai was the name given to the
military class among the Japanese,—a
class intermediate between the Emperor
and his nobles and the great mass of the
common people who were engaged in agriculture,
mechanical arts, or trade. Upon
the samurai rested the defense of the
country from enemies at home or abroad,
as well as the preservation of literature
and learning, and the conduct of all official
business. At the time of the fall of
feudalism, there were, among the thirty-four
millions of Japanese, about two million
samurai; and in this class, in the
broadest sense of the word, must be included
the daimiōs, as well as their two-sworded
retainers. But as the greater
among the samurai were distinguished by
special class names, the word as commonly
used, and as used throughout this work,[197]
applies to the military class, who served
the Shōgun and the daimiōs, and who
were supported by yearly allowances from
the treasuries of their lords. These form
a distinct class, actuated by motives quite
different from those of the lower classes,
and filling a great place in the history of
the country. As the nobility, through long
inheritance of power and wealth, became
weak in body and mind, the samurai grew
to be, more and more, not only the sword,
but the brain of Japan; and to-day the
great work of bringing the country out of
the middle ages into the nineteenth century
is being performed by the samurai
more than by any other class.
What, it may be asked, are the traits of
the samurai which distinguish them, and
make them such honored types of the perfect
Japanese gentleman, so that to live and
die worthy the name of samurai was the
highest ambition of the soldier? The samurai’s
duty may be expressed in one word,
loyalty,—loyalty to his lord and master, and
loyalty to his country,—loyalty so true and
deep that for it all human ties, hopes, and
affections, wife, children, and home, must
be sacrificed if necessary. Those who have[198]
read the tale of “The Loyal Rōnins”[36]—a
story which has been so well told by Mitford,
Dickins, and Greey that many readers
must be already familiar with it—will
remember that the head councilor and
retainer, Oishi, in his deep desire for revenge
for his lord’s unjust death, divorces
his wife and sends off his children, that they
may not distract his thoughts from his
plans; and performs his famous act of revenge
without once seeing his wife, only
letting her know at his death his faithfulness
to her and the true cause of his seeming
cruelty. And the wife, far from feeling
wronged by such an act, only glories in
the loyalty of her husband, who threw aside
everything to fulfill his one great duty,
even though she herself was his unhappy
victim.
The true samurai is always brave, never
fearing death or suffering in any form.
Life and death are alike to him, if no disgrace
is attached to his name.
An incident comes into my mind which[199]
may serve as an example of the samurai
spirit,—a spirit which has filled the history
of Japan with heroic deeds. It is the
story of a long siege, at the end of which
the little garrison in the besieged castle
was reduced to the last stages of endurance,
though hourly expecting reinforcement.
In this state of affairs, the great
question is, whether to wait for the expected
aid, or to surrender immediately,
and the answer to the question can only
be obtained through a knowledge of the
enemy’s strength. At this juncture, one
of the samurai volunteers to steal into the
camp of the besiegers, inspect their forces,
and report their strength before the final
decision is made. He disguises himself,
and through various chances is able to
penetrate, unsuspected, into the midst of
the enemy’s camp. He discovers that the
besiegers are so weak that they cannot
maintain the siege much longer, but while
returning to the castle he is recognized
and taken by the enemy. His captors give
him one chance for escape from the horrible
death of crucifixion. He is to go to
the edge of the moat, and, standing on an
elevated place, shout out to the soldiers[200]
that they must surrender, for the forces are
too strong for them. He seemingly consents
to this, and, led down to the water’s
edge, he sees across the moat his wife and
child, who greet him with demonstrations
of joy. To her he waves his hand; then,
bravely and loudly, so that it may be heard
by friend and foe, he shouts out the true
tidings, “Wait for reinforcement at any
cost, for the besiegers are weak and will
soon have to give up.” At these words
his enraged enemies seize him and put
him to a death of horrible torture, but he
smiles in their faces as he tells them the
sweetness of such a sacrifice for his master.
Japanese history abounds with heroic
deeds of blood displaying the indomitable
courage of the samurai. In the reading of
them, we are often reminded of the Spartan
spirit of warfare, and samurai women
are in some ways very like those Spartan
mothers who would rather die than see
their sons branded as cowards.
The implicit obedience which samurai
gave their lords, when conflicting with
feelings of loyalty to their country, often
produced two opposing forces which had
to be overcome. When the daimiō gave[201]
orders that the keener-sighted retainer felt
would not be for the good of the house,
he had either to disobey his lord, or act
against his feeling of loyalty. Divided between
the two duties, the samurai would
usually do as he thought right for his
country or his lord, disobeying his master’s
orders; write a confession of his real
motives; and save his name from disgrace
by committing suicide. By this act he
would atone for his disobedience, and his
loyalty would never be questioned.
The now abolished custom of ,
or the voluntary taking of one’s life to
avoid disgrace, and blot out entirely or
partially the stain on an honorable name,
is a curious custom which has come down
from old times. The ancient heroes stabbed
themselves as calmly as they did their enemies,
and women as well as men knew
how to use the short sword[37] worn always[202]
at the side of the samurai, his last and
easy escape from shame.
The young men of this class, as well as
their masters, the daimiōs, were early instructed
in the method of this self-stabbing,
so that it might be cleanly and easily
done, for a bloody and unseemly death
would not redound to the honor of the
suicide. The fatal cut was not instantaneous
in its effect, and there was always
opportunity for that display of courage—that
show of disregard for death or
pain—which was expected of the brave
man.
The was of course a last resort,
but it was an honorable death. The vulgar
criminal must be put to death by the hands
of others, but the nobler samurai, who
never cares to survive disgrace, was condemned
to if found guilty of actions
worthy of death. Not to be allowed
to do this, but to be executed in the common
way, was a double disgrace to a samurai.
Even to this day, when crimes such
as the assassination of a minister of state
are committed, in the mistaken belief that
the act is for the good of the country, the
idea on the part of the assassin is never to[203]
escape detection. He calmly gives himself
up to justice or takes his own life,[38] stating
his motive for the deed; and, believing
himself justified in the act, is willing that
his life should be the cost.
The old samurai was proud of his rank,
his honorable vocation, his responsibility;
proud of his ignorance of trade and barter
and of his disregard for the sordid cares of
the world, regarding as far beneath him all
occupations but those of arms. Wealth,
as artisan or farmer, rarely tempted him
to sink into the lower ranks; and his support
from the daimiō, often a mere pittance,
insured to him more respect and
greater privileges than wealth as a héimin.
To this day even, this feeling exists. Preference
for rank or position, rather than
for mere salary, remains strongly among
the present generation, so that official positions
are more sought after than the more
lucrative occupations of trade. Japan[204]
is flooded with small officials, and yet the
samurai now is obliged to lay down his
sword and devote his time to the once
despised trades, and to learn how important
are the arts of peace compared with
those of war.
The dislike of anything suggestive of
trade or barter—of services and actions
springing, not from duty and from the
heart, but from the desire of gain—has
strongly tinted many little customs of the
day, often misunderstood and misconstrued
by foreigners. In old Japan, experience
and knowledge could not be bought and
sold. Physicians did not charge for their
services, but on the contrary would decline
to name or even receive a compensation
from those in their own clan. Patients,
on their side, were too proud to accept
services free, and would send to the physicians,
not as pay exactly, but more as
a gift or a token of gratitude, a sum
of money which varied according to the
means of the giver, as well as to the
amount of service received. Daimiōs did
not send to ask a teacher how much an
hour his time was worth, and then arrange
the lessons accordingly; the teacher was[205]
not insulted by being expected to barter
his knowledge for so much filthy lucre,
but was merely asked whether his time
and convenience would allow of his taking
extra teaching. The request was made,
not as a matter of give and take, but a
favor to be granted. Due compensation,
however, would never fail to be made,—of
this the teacher could be sure,—but no
agreement was ever considered necessary.
With this feeling yet remaining in Japan,—this
dislike of contracts, and exact
charges for professional services,—we can
imagine the inward disgust of the samurai
at the business-like habits of the foreigners
with whom he has to deal. On the
other hand, his feelings are not appreciated
by the foreigner, and his actions clash with
the European and American ideas of independence
and self-respect. In Japan a
present of money is more honorable than
pay, whereas in America pay is much more
honorable than a present.
The samurai of to-day is rapidly imbibing
new ideas, and is learning to see the
world from a Western point of view; but
his thoughts and actions are still moulded
on the ideas of old Japan, and it will be a[206]
long time before the loyal, faithful, but
proud spirit of the samurai will die out.
The pride of clan is now changed to pride
of race; loyalty to feudal chief has become
loyalty to the Emperor as sovereign; and
the old traits of character exist under the
European costumes of to-day, as under
the flowing robes of the two-sworded retainer.
It is this same spirit of loyalty that
has made it hard for Christianity to get a
foothold in Japan. The Emperor was the
representative of the gods of Japan. To
embrace a new religion seemed a desertion
of him, and the following of the strange
gods of the foreigner. The work of the
Catholic missionaries which ended so disastrously
in 1637 has left the impression
that a Christian is bound to offer allegiance
to the Pope in much the same
way as the Emperor now receives it from
his people; and the bitterness of such
a thought has made many refuse to hear
what Christianity really is. Such words as
“King” and “Lord” they have understood
as referring to temporal things, and it
has taken years to undo this prejudice; a
feeling in no way surprising when we[207]
consider how the Jesuit missionaries once
interfered with political movements in
Japan.
So bitter was this feeling, when Japan
was first opened, that a native Christian
was at once branded as a traitor to his
country, and very severe was the persecution
against all Christians. Missionaries
at one time dared not acknowledge themselves
as such, and lived in danger of their
lives; and the Japanese Christian who remained
faithful did so knowing that he
was despised and hated. I know of one
mother who, finding command and entreaty
alike unavailing to move her son, a
convert to the new religion, threatened to
commit suicide, feeling that the disgrace
which had fallen on the family could only
be wiped out with her death. Happily, all
this is of the past, and to-day the samurai
has found that he can reconcile the new
religion with his loyalty to Japan, and that
in receiving the one he is not led to betray
the other.
The women of the samurai have shared
with the men the responsibilities of their
rank, and the pride that comes from hereditary
positions of responsibility. A woman’s
[208]first duty in all ranks of society is
obedience; but sacrifice of self, in however
horrible a way, was a duty most cheerfully
and willingly performed, when by such sacrifice
father, husband, or son might be
the better able to fulfill his duty towards
his feudal superior. The women in the
daimiōs’ castles who were taught fencing,
drilled and uniformed, and relied upon
to defend the castle in case of need, were
women of this class,—women whose husbands
and fathers were soldiers, and in
whose veins ran the blood of generations
of fighting ancestors. Gentle, feminine,
delicate as they were, there was a possibility
of martial prowess about them when
the need for it came; and the long education
in obedience and loyalty did not
fail to produce the desired results. Death,
and ignominy worse than death, could be
met bravely, but disgrace involving loss of
honor to husband or feudal lord was the
one thing that must be avoided at all hazards.
It was my good fortune, many years
ago, to make the acquaintance of a little
Japanese girl who had lived in the midst
of the siege of Wakamatsu, the city in
which the Shōgun’s forces made their last[209]
stand for their lord and the system that
he represented. As the Emperor’s forces
marched upon the castle town, moat after
moat was taken,[*] until at last men, women,
and children took refuge within the citadel
itself to defend it until the last gasp. The
bombs of the besiegers fell crashing into
the castle precincts, killing the women as
they worked at whatever they could do in
aid of the defenders; and even the little
girls ran back and forth, amid the rain of
bullets and balls, carrying cartridges, which
the women were making within the castle,
to the men who were defending the walls.
“Weren’t you afraid?” we asked the delicate
child, when she told us of her own share
in the defense. “No,” was the answer. A
small but dangerous sword, of the finest
Japanese steel, was shown us as the sword
that she wore in her belt during all those
days of war and tumult. “Why did you
wear the sword?” we asked. “So that I
would have it if I was taken prisoner.”
“What would you have done with it?” was
the next question, for we could not believe
that a child of eight would undertake to
defend herself against armed soldiers with
that little sword. “I would have killed[210]
myself,” was the answer, with a flash of
the eye that showed her quite capable of
committing the act in case of need.
In the olden times, when the spirit of
warfare was strong and justice but scantily
administered, revenge for personal insult,
or for the death of father or lord, fell upon
the children, or the retainers. Sometimes
the bloody deed has fallen to the lot of a
woman, to some weak and feeble girl, who,
in many a tale, has braved all the difficulties
that beset a woman’s path, devoted her
life to an act of vengeance, and, with the
courage of a man, has often successfully
consummated her revenge.
One of the tales of old Japan, and a favorite
subject of theatrical representation,
is the death and revenge of a lady in a daimiō’s
palace. Onoyé, a daughter of the
people, child of a merchant, has by chance
risen to the position of lady-in-waiting to a
daimiō’s wife,—a thing so uncommon that
it has roused the jealousy of the other
ladies, who are of the samurai class. Iwafuji,
one of the highest and proudest ladies
at the court, takes pains on every occasion
to insult and torment the poor, unoffending
Onoyé, whom she cannot bear to[211]
have as an associate. She constantly reminds
her of her inferior birth, and at last
challenges her to a trial in fencing, in
which accomplishment Onoyé is not proficient,
having lacked the proper training
in her early life. At last the hatred and
anger of Iwafuji culminate in a frenzy of
rage; she forgets herself, and strikes the
meek and gentle Onoyé with her sandal,—the
worst insult that could be offered to
any one.
Onoyé, overcome by this deep disgrace offered
her in public, returns from the main
palace to her own apartments, and ponders
long and deeply, in the bitterness of her
soul, how to wipe out the disgrace of an
insult by such an enemy.
Her own faithful maid, seeing her disordered
hair and anxious looks, perceives
some secret trouble, which her mistress
will not disclose, and tries, while performing
her acts of service, to dispel the gloom
by telling gayly all the gossip of the day.
This maid, O Haru, is a type of the clever
faithful servant. She is really of higher
birth than her mistress, for, though she
has been obliged to go out to service, she
was born of a samurai family. Onoyé,[212]
while listening to the talk of her servant,
has made up her mind that only one thing
can blot out her disgrace, and that is to
commit suicide. She hastily pens a farewell
to her family, for the deed must not
be delayed, and sends with the letter the
token of her disgrace,—Iwafuji’s sandal,
which she has kept. O Haru is sent on
this errand, and, unconscious of the ill-news
she is bearing, she starts out. On
the way, the ominous croak of the ravens,
who are making a dismal noise,—a presage
of ill-luck,—frightens the observant
O Haru. A little further on, the strap
of her clog breaks,—a still more alarming
sign. Thoroughly frightened, O Haru
turns back, and reaches her mistress’ room
in time to find that the fatal deed is done,
and her mistress is dying. O Haru is
heart-broken, learns the whole truth, and
vows vengeance on the enemy of her loved
mistress.
O Haru, unlike Onoyé, is thoroughly
trained in fencing. An occasion arises
when she returns to Iwafuji in public the
malicious blow, and with the same sandal,
which she has kept as a sign of her revenge.
She then challenges Iwafuji, in[213]
behalf of the dead, to a trial in fencing.
The haughty Iwafuji is forced to accept,
and is thoroughly defeated and shamed
before the spectators. The whole truth is
now made known, and the daimiō, who admires
and appreciates the spirit of O Haru,
sends for her, and raises her from her low
position to fill the post of her dead mistress.
These stories show the spirit of the
samurai women; they can suffer death
bravely, even joyfully, at their own hands
or the hands of husband or father, to avoid
or wipe out any disgrace which they regard
as a loss of honor; but they will as
bravely and patiently subject themselves to
a life of shame and ignominy, worse than
death, for the sake of gaining for husband
or father the means of carrying out a feudal
obligation. There is a pathetic scene, in
one of the most famous of the Japanese historical
dramas, in which one seems to get
the moral perspective of the ideal Japanese
woman, as one cannot get it in any other
way. The play is founded on the story of
“The Loyal Rōnins,” referred to in the beginning
of this chapter. The loyal rōnins
are plotting to avenge the death of their[214]
master upon the daimiō whose cupidity
and injustice have brought it about. As
there is danger of disloyalty even in their
own ranks, Oishi, the leader of the dead
daimiō’s retainers, displays great caution
in the selection of his fellow-conspirators,
and practices every artifice to secure absolute
secrecy for his plans. One young
man, who was in disgrace with his lord at
the time of his death, applies to be admitted
within the circle of conspirators;
but as it is suspected that he may not be
true to the cause, a payment in money is
exacted from him as a pledge of his honorable
intentions. It is thus made his first
duty to redeem his honor from all suspicion
by the payment of the money, in order
that he may perform his feudal obligation
of avenging the death of his lord. But the
young man is poor; he has married a poor
girl, and has agreed to support not only his
wife, but her old parents as well, and the
payment is impossible for him. In this
emergency, his wife, at the suggestion of
her parents, proposes, as the only way, to
sell herself, for a term of two years, to
the proprietor of a house of pleasure, that
she may by this vile servitude enable her[215]
husband to escape the dishonor that must
come to him if he fails to fulfill his feudal
duty. Negotiations are entered into,
the contract is made, and an advance payment
is given which will furnish money
enough for the pledge required by the conspirators.
All this is done without the
knowledge of the husband, lest his love
for his wife and his grief for the sacrifice
prevent him from accepting the only
means left to prove his loyalty. The noble
wife even plans to leave her home while
he is away on a hunting expedition, and
so spare him the pain of parting. His
emotion upon learning of this venture in
business is not of wrath at the disgrace
that has overtaken his family, but simply
of grief that his wife and her parents must
make so great a sacrifice to save his honor.
It is a terrible affliction, but it is not a disgrace
in any way parallel to the disgrace
of disloyalty to his lord. And the heroic
wife, when the men come to carry her away,
is upheld through all the trying farewells
by the consciousness that she is making as
noble a sacrifice of herself as did the wife
of Yamato Daké when she leaped into the
sea to avert the wrath of the sea-god from[216]
her husband. The Japanese, both men
and women, knowing this story and many
others similar in character, can see, as we
cannot from our point of view, that, even if
the body be defiled, there is no defilement
of the soul, for the woman is fulfilling her
highest duty in sacrificing all, even her
dearest possession, for the honor of her
husband. It is a climax of self-abnegation
that brings nothing but honor to the soul
of her who reaches it. Japanese women
who read this story feel profound pity for
the poor wife, and a horror of a sacrifice
that binds her to a life which outwardly,
to the Japanese mind even, is the lowest
depth a woman ever reaches. But they do
not despise her for the act; nor would they
refuse to receive her even were she to appear
in living form to-day in any Japanese
home, where, thanks to happier fortunes,
such sacrifices are not demanded. Just
at this point is the difference of moral
perspective that foreigners visiting Japan
find so hard to understand, and that leads
many, who have lived in the country the
longest, to believe that there is no modesty
and purity among Japanese women. It is
this that makes it possible for the vilest[217]
of stories, and those that have the least
foundation in fact, to find easy belief among
foreigners, even if they be told about the
purest, most high-minded, and most honorable
of Japanese women. Our maidens, as
they grow to womanhood, are taught that
anything is better than personal dishonor,
and their maidenly instincts side with the
teaching. With us, a virtuous woman does
not mean a brave, a heroic, an unselfish, or
self-sacrificing woman, but means simply
one who keeps herself from personal dishonor.
Chastity is the supreme virtue for
a woman; all other virtues are secondary
compared with it. This is our point of
view, and the whole perspective is arranged
with that virtue in the foreground. Dismiss
this for a moment, and consider the
moral training of the Japanese maiden.
From earliest youth until she reaches maturity,
she is constantly taught that obedience
and loyalty are the supreme virtues,
which must be preserved even at the sacrifice
of all other and lesser virtues. She is
told that for the good of father or husband
she must be willing to meet any danger,
endure any dishonor, perpetrate any crime,
give up any treasure. She must consider[218]
that nothing belonging solely to herself is
of any importance compared with the good
of her master, her family, or her country.
Place this thought of obedience and loyalty,
to the point of absolute self-abnegation, in
the foreground, and your perspective is altered,
the other virtues occupying places of
varying importance. Because a Japanese
woman will sometimes sacrifice her personal
virtue for the sake of father or husband,
does it follow that all Japanese women are
unchaste and impure? In many cases this
sacrifice is the noblest that she believes
possible, and she goes to it, as she would
go to death in any dreadful form, for those
whom she loves, and to whom she owes the
duty of obedience. The Japanese maiden
grows to womanhood no less pure and
modest than our own girls, but our girls
are never called upon to sacrifice their modesty
for the sake of those whom they love
best; nor is it expected of any woman in
this country that she exist solely for the
good of some one else, in whatever way he
chooses to use her, during all the years of
her life. Let us take this difference into
our thought in forming our judgment, and
let us rather seek the causes that underlie[219]
the actions than pass judgment upon the
actions themselves. From a close study of
the characters of many Japanese women
and girls, I am quite convinced that few
women in any country do their duty, as
they see it, more nobly, more single-mindedly,
and more satisfactorily to those about
them, than the women of Japan.
Many argue that the purity of Japanese
women, as compared with the men, the
ready obedience which they yield, their
sweet characters and unselfish devotion as
wives and mothers, are merely the results
of the restraint under which they live,
and that they are too weak to be allowed
to enjoy freedom of thought and action.
Whether this be true or no is a point
which we leave for others to take up, as
time shall have provided new data for reasoning
on the subject.
To me, the sense of duty seems to be
strongly developed in the Japanese women,
especially in those of the samurai
class. Conscience seems as active, though
often in a different manner, as the old-fashioned
New England conscience, transmitted
through the bluest of Puritan blood. And
when a duty has once been recognized as[220]
such, no timidity, or mortification, or fear
of ridicule will prevent the performance
of it. A case comes to my mind now of
a young girl of sixteen, who made public
confession before her schoolmates of shortcomings
of which none of them knew, for
the sake of easing her troubled conscience
and warning her schoolmates against similar
errors. The circumstances were as follows:
The young girl had recently lost her
grandmother, a most loving and affectionate
old lady, who had taken the place of
a mother to the child from her earliest
infancy. In a somewhat unhappy home,
the love of the old grandmother was the
one bright spot; and when she was taken
away, the poor, lonely child’s memory recalled
all of her own shortcomings to this
beloved friend; and, too late to make amendment
to the old lady herself, she dwelt
on her own undutifulness, and decided that
she must by some means do penance, or
make atonement for her fault. She might,
if she made a confession before her schoolmates,
warn them against similar mistakes;
and accordingly she prepared, for the literary
society in which the girls took what
part they chose, a long confession, written[221]
in poetical style, and read it before her
schoolmates and teachers. It was a terrible
ordeal, as one could see by the blushing
face and breaking voice, often choked
with sobs; and when at the conclusion she
urged her friends to behave in such a way
to their dear ones that they need never
suffer what she had had to endure since
her grandmother’s death, there was not a
dry eye in the room, and many of the girls
were sobbing aloud. It was a curious expiation
and a touching one, but one not in
the least exceptional or uncharacteristic of
the spirit of duty that actuates the best
women of the samurai class.
Here is another instance which illustrates
this sense of duty, and desire of
atoning for past mistakes or sins. At the
time of the overthrow of the feudal system,
the samurai, bred to loyalty to their
own feudal superiors as their highest duty,
found themselves ranged on different sides
in the struggle, according to the positions
in which their lords placed themselves. At
the end of the struggle, those who had
followed their daimiōs to the field, in defense
of the Shōgunate, found that they
had been fighting against the Emperor, the[222]
Son of Heaven himself, who had at last
emerged from the seclusion of centuries to
govern his own empire. Thus the supporters
of the Shōgunate, while absolutely
loyal to their daimiōs, had been disloyal to
the higher power of the Emperor; and
had put themselves in the position of traitors
to their country. There was a conflict
of principles there somewhat similar to
that which took place in our Civil War,
when, in the South, he who was true to his
State became a traitor to his country, and
he who was true to his country became
a traitor to his State. Two ladies of the
finest samurai type had, with absolute loyalty
to a lost cause, aided by every means
in their power in the defense of the city of
Wakamatsu against the victorious forces
of the Emperor. They had held on to the
bitter end, and had been banished, with
others of their family and clan, to a remote
province, for some years after the end of
the war. In 1877, eleven years after the
close of the War of the Restoration, a rebellion
broke out in the south which required
a considerable expenditure of blood
and money for its suppression. When the
new war began, these two ladies presented[223]
a petition to the government, in which
they begged that they might be allowed to
make amends for their former position of
opposition to the Emperor, by going with
the army to the field as hospital nurses.
At that time, no lady in Japan had ever
gone to the front to nurse the wounded
soldiers; but to those two brave women
was granted the privilege of making atonement
for past disloyalty, by the exercise of
the skill and nerve that they had gained in
their experience of war against the Emperor,
in the nursing of soldiers wounded
in his defense.[*]
In the old days, the women of the samurai
class fulfilled most nobly the duties
that fell to their lot. As wives and mothers
in time of peace, they performed their
work faithfully in the quiet of their homes;
and, their time filled with household cares,
they busied themselves with the smaller
duties of life. As the wives and mothers
of soldiers, they cultivated the heroic spirit
befitting their position, fearing no danger
save such as involved disgrace. As the
home-guard in time of need, they stood
ready to defend their master’s possessions
with their own lives; as gentlewomen and[224]
ladies-in-waiting at the court of the daimiō
or the Shōgun, they cultivated the arts
and accomplishments required for their
position, and veiled the martial spirit that
dwelt within them under an exterior as
feminine, as gracious, as cultivated and
charming, as that of any ladies of Europe
or America. To-day in the new Japan,
where the samurai have no longer their
yearly allowance from their lords and their
feudal duties, but, scattered through the
whole nation, are engaged in all the arts
and trades, and are infusing the old spirit
into the new life, what are the women
doing? As the government of the land
to-day lies in the hands of the samurai
men under the Emperor, so the progress
of the women, the new ideas of work for
women, are in the hands of the samurai
women, led by the Empress. Wherever
there is progress among the women, wherever
they are looking about for new opportunities,
entering new occupations, elevating
the home, opening hospitals, industrial
schools, asylums, there you will find
the leading spirits always of the samurai
class. In the recent changes, some of this
class have risen above their former state[225]
and joined the ranks of the nobility; and
there the presence of the samurai spirit infuses
new life into the aristocracy. So, too,
the changes that have raised some have
lowered others, and the samurai is now to
be found in the formerly despised occupations
of trade and industry, among the
merchants, the farmers, the fishermen, the
artisans, and the domestic servants. But
wherever his lot is cast, the old training,
the old ideals, the old pride of family, still
keep him separate from his present rank,
and, instead of pulling him down to the
level of those about him, tend to raise that
level by the example of honor and intelligence
that he sets. The changed fortunes
were not met without a murmur. Most of
the outrages, the reactionary movements,
the riots and inflammatory speeches and
writings, that characterized the long period
of disquiet following the Restoration, came
from men of this class, who saw their support
taken from them, leaving them unable
to dig and ashamed to beg. But the
greater part of them went sturdily to work,
in government positions if they could get
them, in the army, on the police force, on
the farm, in the shop, at trades, at service,—even
[226]to the humble work of wheeling a
, if other honest occupation could
not be found; and the women shared patiently
and bravely the changed fortunes of
the men, doing whatever they could toward
bettering them. The samurai women to-day
are eagerly working into the positions
of teachers, interpreters, trained nurses,
and whatever other places there are which
may be honorably occupied by women. The
girls’ schools, both government and private,
find many of their pupils among the
samurai class; and their deference and
obedience to their teachers and superiors,
their ambition and keen sense of honor in
the school-room, show the influence of the
samurai feeling over new Japan. To the
samurai women belongs the task—and
they have already begun to perform it—of
establishing upon a broader and surer
foundation the position of women in their
own country. They, as the most intelligent,
will be the first to perceive the
remedy for present evils, and will, if I
mistake not, move heaven and earth, at
some time in the near future, to have that
remedy applied to their own case. Most of
them read the literature of the day, some[227]
of them in at least one language beside
their own; a few have had the benefit of
travel abroad, and have seen what the home
and the family are in Christian lands.
There is as much of the unconquerable
spirit of the samurai to-day in the women
as in the men; and it will not be very long
before that spirit will begin to show itself
in working for the establishment of their
homes and families upon some stronger
basis than the will of the husband and
father.
Footnotes:
[36] was the term applied to a samurai who had lost his master, and owed no feudal allegiance to any daimiō. The exact meaning of the word is , signifying one who wanders to and fro without purpose, like a wave driven by the wind. [37] The samurai always wore two swords, a long one for fighting only, and a short one for defense when possible, but, as a last resort, for . The sword is the emblem of the samurai spirit, and as such is respected and honored. A samurai took pride in keeping his swords as sharp and shining as was possible. He was never seen without the two swords, but the longer one he removed and left at the front door when he entered the house of a friend. To use a sword badly, to harm or injure it, or to step over it, was considered an insult to the owner. [38] Kurushima, who attempted to take the life of Okuma, the late Minister of Foreign Affairs, as recently as 1889, committed suicide immediately after throwing the dynamite bomb which caused the minister the loss of his leg. This was the more remarkable in that, at the time of his death, the assassin supposed that his victim had escaped all injury. [228]
CHAPTER IX.
PEASANT WOMEN. The great héimin class includes not only the peasants of Japan, but also the artisans and merchants; artisans ranking below farmers, and merchants below artisans, in the social structure. It includes the whole of the common people, except such as were in former times altogether below the level of respectability, the and ,[39]—outcasts who lived by begging, slaughtering animals, caring for dead bodies, tanning skins, and other employments which rendered them unclean according to the old notions. From very early times the agricultural class has been sharply divided from the samurai or military. [229]Here and there one from the peasantry mounts by force of his personal qualities into the higher ranks, for there is no caste system that prevents the passing from one class into another,—only a class prejudice that serves very nearly the same purpose, in keeping samurai and héimin in their places, that the race prejudice in this country serves in confining the negroes, North and South, to certain positions and occupations. The first division of the military from the peasantry occurred in the eighth century, and since then the peculiar circumstances of each class have tended to produce quite different characteristics in persons originally of the same stock. To the soldier class have fallen learning, skill in arms and horsemanship, opportunities to rise to places of honor and power, lives free from sordid care in regard to the daily rice, and in which noble ideas of duty and loyalty can spring up and bear fruit in heroic deeds. To the peasant, tilling his little rice-field year after year, have come the heavy burdens of taxation; the grinding toil for a mere pittance of food for himself and his family; the patient bearing of all things imposed by his superiors, with[230] little hope of gain for himself, whatever change the fortunes of war may bring to those above him in the social scale. Is there wonder that, as the years have gone by, his wits have grown heavy under his daily drudgery; that he knows little and understands less of the changes that are taking place in his native land; that he is easily moved by only one thing, and that the failure of his crops, or the shortening of his returns from his land by heavier taxation? This is true of the héimin as a class: they are conservative, fearing that change will but tend to make harder a lot that is none too easy; and though peaceable and gentle usually, they may be moved to blind acts of riot and bloodshed by any political change that seems likely to produce heavier taxation, or even by a failure of their crops, when they see themselves and their families starving while the military and official classes have enough and to spare. But though, as a class, the farmers are ignorant and heavy, they are seldom entirely illiterate; and everywhere, throughout the country, one finds men belonging to this class who are well educated and have risen to positions of much responsibility [231]and power, and are able to hold their own, and think for themselves and for their brethren. From an article in the “Tōkyō Mail,” entitled “A Memorialist of the Latter Days of the Tokugawa Government,” I quote passages which show the thoughts of one of the héimin upon the condition of his own class about the year
- It is from a petition sent to the
Shōgun by the head-man of the village of
Ogushi.
The first point in the petition is, that there is a growing tendency to luxury among the military and official classes. “It is useless to issue orders commanding peasants and others to be frugal and industrious, when those in power, whose duty it is to show a good example to the people, are themselves steeped in luxury and idleness.” He ventures to reproach the Shōguns themselves by pointing to the extravagance with which they have decorated the mausoleums at Nikkō and elsewhere. “Is this,” he asks, “in keeping with the intentions of the glorious founder of your dynasty? Look at the shrines in Isé and elsewhere, and at the sepulchres of the Emperors of successive ages. Is gold or silver used in decorating them?” He[232] then turns to the vassals of the Shōgun, and charges them with being tyrannical, rapacious, and low-minded. “Samurai,” he continues,—”samurai are finely attired, but how contemptible they look in the eyes of those peasants who know how to be contented with what they have!”
Further on in the same memorial, he points out what he regards as a grave mistake in the policy of the Shōgun. A decree had just been issued prohibiting the peasantry from exercising themselves with sword-play, and from wearing swords. Of this he says: “Perhaps this decree may have been issued on the supposition that Japan is naturally impregnable and defended on all sides. But when she receives insult from a foreign country, it may become necessary to call on the militia. And who knows that men of extraordinary military genius, like Toyotomi,[40] will not again appear among the lower classes?”
[233]
He ends his memorial with this warning: “Should the Shōgun’s court, and the military class in general, persist in the present oppressive way of government, Heaven will visit this land with still greater calamities. If this circumstance is not clearly kept in view, the consequence may be civil disturbance. I, therefore, beseech that the instructions of the glorious founder of the dynasty be acted upon; that simplicity and frugality be made the guiding principle of administration; and that a general amnesty be proclaimed, thereby complying with the will of Heaven and placating the people. Should these humble suggestions of mine be acted upon, prospective calamities will fly before the light of virtue. Whether the country is to be safe or not depends upon whether the administration is carried on with mercy or not. What I pray for is, that the country may enjoy peace and tranquillity, that the harvest may be plentiful, and that the people may be happy and prosperous.”
One is able to see, by this rather remarkable document, that the peasants of Japan, though frequently almost crushed by the heavy burdens of taxation, do not,[234] even in the most grinding poverty, lose entirely that independence of thought and of action which is characteristic of their nation. They do not consider themselves as a servile class, nor their military rulers as beyond criticism or reproach, but are ready to speak boldly for their rights whenever an opportunity occurs. There is a pathetic story, told in Mitford’s “Tales of Old Japan,” of a peasant, the head-man of his village, who goes to Yedo to present to the Shōgun a complaint, on behalf of his fellow-villagers, of the extortions and exactions of his daimiō. He is unable to get any one to present his memorial to the Shōgun, so at last he stops the great lord’s palanquin in the street,—an act in itself punishable with death,—and thrusts the paper forcibly into his hand. The petition is read, and his fellow-villagers saved from further oppression, but the head-man, for his daring, is condemned by his own daimiō to suffer death by crucifixion,—a fate which he meets with the same heroism with which he dared everything to save his fellows from suffering.
The peasant, though ignorant and oppressed, has not lost his manhood; has not[235] become a slave or a serf, but clings to his rights, so far as he knows what they are; and is ready to hold his own against all comers, when the question in debate is one that appeals to his mind. The rulers of Japan have always the peasantry to reckon with when their ruling becomes unjust or oppressive. They cannot be cowed, though they may be misled for a time, and they form a conservative element that serves to hold in check too hasty rulers who would introduce new measures too quickly, and would be likely to find the new wine bursting the old bottles, as well as to prevent any rash extravagance in the way of personal expenditure on the part of government officials. The influence of this great class will be more and more felt as the new parliamentary institutions gain in power, and a more close connection is established between the throne and public opinion.
In considering this great héimin class, it is well to remember that the artisans, who form so large a part of it, are also the artists who have made the reputation of Japan, in Europe and America, as one of the countries where art and the love of[236] beauty in form and color are still instinct with life. The Japanese artisan works with patient toil, and with the skill and originality of the artist, to produce something that shall be individual and his own; not simply to make, after a pattern, some utensil or ornament for which he cares nothing, so long as a purchaser can be found for it, or an employer can be induced to pay him money for making it. It seems as easy for the Japanese to make things pretty and in good taste, even when they are cheap and only used by the poorer people, as it is for American mills and workers to turn out endless varieties of attempts at decoration,—all so hideous that a poor person must be content, either to be surrounded by the worst possible taste, or to purchase only such furnishings and utensils as are entirely without decoration of any kind. “Cheap” and “nasty” have come to be almost synonymous words with us, for the reason that taste in decoration is so rare that it commands a monopoly price, and can only be procured by the wealthy. In Japan this is not the case, for the cheapest of things may be found in graceful and artistic designs,—indeed can[237] hardly be found in any designs that are not graceful and artistic; and the poorest and commonest of the people may have about them the little things that go to cultivate the æsthetic part of human nature. It was not the costly art of Japan that interested me the most, although that is, of course, the most wonderful proof of the capacity and patience of individuals among this héimin class: but it was the common, cheap, every-day art that meets one at every turn; the love for the beautiful, in both nature and art, that belongs to the common coolie as well as to the nobleman. The cheap prints, the blue and white towels, the common teacups and pots, the great iron kettles in use over the fire in the farmhouse kitchen,—all these are things as pretty and tasteful in their way as the rich crêpes, the silver incense burners, the delicate porcelain, and the elegant lacquer that fill the storehouse of the daimiō; and they show, much more conclusively than these costlier things, the universal sense of beauty among the people.
The artisan works at his home, helped less often by hired laborers than by his own children, who learn the trade of their[238] father; and his house, though small, is clean and tasteful, with its soft mats, its dainty tea service, its little hanging scroll upon the walls, and its vase of gracefully arranged flowers in the corner; for flowers, even in winter and in the great city of Tōkyō, are so cheap that they are never beyond the reach of the poorest. In homes that seem to the foreign mind utterly lacking in the comforts and even the necessities of life, one finds the few furnishings and utensils beautiful in shape and decoration; and the money that in this country must be spent in beds, tables, and chairs can be used for the purchase of , flowers, and vases, and for various gratifications of the æsthetic taste. Hence it is that the Japanese laborer, who lives on a daily wage which would reduce an American or European to the verge of starvation, finds both time and money for the cultivation of that sense of beauty which is too often crushed completely out of the lower classes by the burdens of this nineteenth century civilization which they bear upon their shoulders. To the Japanese, the “life is more than meat,” it is beauty as well; and this love of beauty has[239] upon him a civilizing and refining effect, and makes him in many ways the superior of the American day-laborer.[*]
The peasants and farmers of Japan, thrifty and hard-working as they are, are not by any means a prosperous class. As one passes into the country districts from the large cities, there seems to be a conspicuous dearth of neat, pleasant homes,—a lack of the comforts and necessities of life such as are enjoyed by city people. The rich farmers are scarce, and the laborers in the rice-fields hardly earn, from days of hardest toil with the rudest implements, the little that will provide for their families. In the face of heavy taxes, the incessant toil, the frequent floods of late years, and the threatening famine, one would expect the poor peasants to be a most discouraged and unhappy class. That all this toil and anxiety does wear on them is no doubt true, but the laborers are always ready to bear submissively whatever comes, and are always hopeful and prepared to enjoy life again in happier times. The charms of the city tempt them sometimes to exchange their daily labor for the excitement of life as men; but in any case[240] they will be perfectly independent, and ask no man for their daily rations.
Although there is much poverty, there are few or no beggars in Japan, for both strong and weak find each some occupation that brings the little pittance required to keep soul and body together, and gives to all enough to make them light-hearted, cheerful, and even happy. From the rich farmer, whose many acres yield enough to provide for a home of luxury quite as fine as the city homes, to the poor little vender of sticks of candy, around whose store the children flock like bees with their rin and sen, all seem independent, contented, and satisfied with their lot in life.
The religious beliefs of old Japan are stronger to-day among the country people than among the dwellers in cities. And they are still willing to give of their substance for the aid of the dying faiths to which they cling, and to undertake toilsome pilgrimages to obtain some longed-for blessing from the gods whom they serve. A great Buddhist temple is being built in Kyōtō to-day, from the lofty ceiling of which hangs a striking proof of the devotion of some of the peasant women[241] to the Buddhist faith. The whole temple, with its immense curved roof, its vast proportions, and its marvelous wood carvings, has been built by offerings of labor, money, and materials made by the faithful. The great timbers were given and brought to the spot by the countrymen; and the women, wishing to have some part in the sacred work, cut off their abundant hair, a beauty perhaps more prized by the Japanese women than by those of other countries, and from the material thus obtained they twisted immense cables, to be used in drawing the timbers from the mountains to the site of the temple. The great black cables hang in the unfinished temple to-day, a sign of the devotion of the women who spared not their chief ornament in the service of the gods in whom they still believe. And a close scrutiny of these touching offerings shows that the glossy black locks of the young women are mingled with the white hairs of those who, by this sacrifice, hope to make sure of a quick and easy departure from a life already near its close.
All along the Tōkaidō, the great road from Tōkyō to Kyōto, in the neighborhood[242] of some holy place, or in the district around the great and sacred Fuji, the mountain so much beloved and honored in Japanese art, will be seen bands of pilgrims slowly walking along the road, their worn and soiled white garments telling of many days’ weary march. Their large hats shield them from the sun and the rain, and the pieces of matting slung over their backs serve them for beds to sleep on, when they take shelter for the night in rude huts. The way up the great mountain of Fuji is lined with these pilgrims; for to attain its summit, and worship there the rising sun, is believed to be the means of obtaining some special blessing. Among these religious devotees, in costumes not unlike those of the men, under the same large hat and coarse matting, old women often are seen, their aged faces belying their apparent vigor of body, as they walk along through miles and miles of country, jingling their bells and holding their rosaries until they reach the shrine, where they may ask some special blessing for their homes, or fulfill some vow already made.[*]
Journeying through rural Japan, one is impressed by the important part played by[243] women in the various bread-winning industries. In the village homes, under the heavily thatched roofs, the constant struggle against poverty and famine will not permit the women to hold back, but they enter bravely into all the work of the men. In the rice-field the woman works side by side with the man, standing all day up to her knees in mud, her dress tucked up and her lower limbs encased in tight-fitting, blue cotton trousers, planting, transplanting, weeding, and turning over the evil-smelling mire, only to be distinguished from her husband by her broader belt tied in a bow behind. In mountain regions we meet the women climbing the steep mountain roads, pruning-hook in hand, after wood for winter fires; or descending, towards night, carrying a load that a donkey need not be ashamed of, packed on a frame attached to the shoulders, or poised lightly upon a straw mat upon the head. There is one village near Kyōto, Yasé by name, at the base of Hiyéi Zan, the historic Buddhist stronghold, where the women attain a stature and muscular development quite unique among the pigmy population of the island empire. Strong, jolly, red-cheeked[244] women they are, showing no evidence of the shrinking away with the advance of old age that is characteristic of most of their countrywomen. With their tucked-up and blue cotton trousers, they stride up and down the mountain, carrying the heaviest and most unwieldy of burdens as lightly and easily as the ordinary woman carries her baby. My first acquaintance with them was during a camping expedition upon the sacred mountain. I myself was carried up the ascent by two small, nearly naked, finely tattooed and moxa-scarred men; but my baggage, consisting of two closely packed hampers as large as ordinary steamer trunks, was lifted lightly to the heads of these feminine porters, and, poised on little straw pads, carried easily up the narrow trail, made doubly difficult by low-hanging branches, to the camp, a distance of three or four miles. From among these women of Yasé, on account of their remarkable physical development, have been chosen frequently the nurses for the imperial infants; an honor which the Yasé villagers duly appreciate, and which makes them bear themselves proudly among their less favored neighbors.
[245]
In other parts of the country, in the neighborhood of Nikkō, for instance, the care of the horses, mild little pack-mares that do much of the burden-bearing in those mountains, is mainly in the hands of the women. At Nikkō, when we would hire ponies for a two days’ expedition to Yumoto, a little, elderly woman was the person with whom our bargains were made; and a close bargainer she proved to be, taking every advantage that lay in her power. When the caravan was ready to start, we found that, though each saddle-horse had a male groom in attendance, the pack-ponies on which our baggage was carried were led by pretty little country girls of twelve or fourteen, their bright black eyes and red cheeks contrasting pleasantly with the blue handkerchiefs that adorned their heads; their slender limbs encased in blue cotton, and only their red sashes giving any hint of the fact that they belonged to the weaker sex. As we journeyed up the rough mountain roads, the little girls kept along easily with the rest of the party; leading their meek, shock-headed beasts up the slippery log steps, and passing an occasional greeting with some returning pack-train,[246] in which the soft black eyes and bits of red about the costume of the little grooms showed that they, too, were mountain maidens, returning fresh and happy after a two days’ tramp through the rocky passes.
In the districts where the silkworm is raised, and the silk spun and woven, the women play a most important part in this productive industry. The care of the worms and of the cocoons falls entirely upon the women, as well as the spinning of the silk and the weaving of the cloth. It is almost safe to say that this largest and most productive industry of Japan is in the hands of the women; and it is to their care and skill that the silk product of the islands is due. In the silk districts one finds the woman on terms of equality with the man, for she is an important factor in the wealth-producing power of the family, and is thus able to make herself felt as she cannot when her work is inferior to that of the men. As a farmer, as a groom, or as a porter, a woman is and must remain an inferior, but in the care of the silkworms, and all the tasks that belong to silk culture, she is the equal of the stronger sex.
[247]
Then, again, in the tea districts, the tea plantations are filled with young girls and old women, their long sleeves held back by a band over the shoulder, and a blue towel gracefully fastened over their heads to keep off the sun and the dust. They pick busily away at the green, tender leaves, which will soon be heated and rolled by strong men over the charcoal fire. The occupation is an easy one, only requiring care in the selection of leaves to be picked, and can be performed by young girls and old women, who gather the glossy leaves in their big baskets, while chatting to each other over the gossip and news of the day.
In the hotels, both in the country and the city, women play an important part. The attendants are usually sweet-faced, prettily dressed girls, and frequently the proprietor of the hotel is a woman. My first experience of a Japanese hotel was at Nara, anciently the capital of Japan, and now a place of resort because of its fine old temples, its Dai Butsu, and its beautiful deer park. The day’s ride in from Ōsaka had brought our party in very tired, only to find that the hotel to which[248] we had telegraphed for rooms was already filled to overflowing by a daimiō and his suite. Not a room could be obtained, and we were at last obliged to walk some distance, for we had dismissed our tired men, to a hotel in the village, of which we knew nothing. What with fatigue and disappointment, we were not prepared to view the unknown hotel in a very rosy light; and when our guide pointed to a small gate leading into a minute, damp courtyard, we were quite convinced that the hardships of travel in Japan were now about to begin; but disappointment gave way to hope, when we were met at the door by a buxom landlady, whose smile was in itself a refreshment. Although we had little in the way of language in common, she made us feel at home at once, took us to her best room, sent her blooming and prettily dressed daughters to bring us tea and whatever other refreshments the mysterious appetite of a foreigner might require, and altogether behaved toward us in such motherly fashion that fatigue and gloom departed forthwith, leaving us refreshed and cheerful. Soon we began to feel rested, and our kind friend,[249] seeing this, took us upon a tour around the house, in which room after room, spotless, empty, with shining woodwork and softest of mats, showed the good housekeeping of our hostess. A little garden in the centre of the house, with dwarf trees, moss-covered stones, and running water, gave it an air of coolness on the hot July day that was almost deceptive; and the spotless wash-room, with its great stone sink, its polished brass basins, its stone well-curb, half in and half out of the house, was cool and clean and refreshing merely to look at. A two days’ stay in this hotel showed that the landlady was the master of the house. Her husband was about the house constantly, as were one or two other men, but they all worked under the direction of the energetic head of affairs. She it was who managed everything, from the cooking of the meals in the kitchen to the filling and heating of the great bath-tub into which the guests were invited to enter every afternoon, one after the other, in the order of their rank. On the second night of my stay, at a late hour, when I supposed that the whole house had retired to rest, I crept softly out of my room to try to soothe the plaintive[250] wails of my dog, who was complaining bitterly that he was made to sleep in the wood-cellar instead of in his mistress’s room, as his habit had always been. As I stole quietly along, fearing lest I should arouse the sleeping house, I heard the inquiring voice of my landlady sound from the bath-room, the door of which stood wide open. Afraid that she would think me in mischief if I did not show myself, I went to the door, to find her, after her family was safely stowed away for the night, taking her ease in the great tub of hot water, and so preparing herself for a sound, if short, night’s sleep. She accepted my murmured (dog) as an excuse, and graciously dismissed me with a smile, and I returned to my room feeling safe under the vigilant care that seemed to guard the house by night as well as by day. I have seen many Japanese hotels and many careful landladies since, but no one among them all has made such an impression as my pleasant hostess at Nara.
Not only hotels, but little tea-houses all through Japan, form openings for the business abilities of women, both in country and city. Wherever you go, no matter how[251] remote the district or how rough the road, at every halting point you find a tea-house. Sometimes it is quite an extensive restaurant, with several rooms for the entertainment of guests, and a regular kitchen where fairly elaborate cooking can be done; sometimes it is only a rough shelter, at one end of which water is kept boiling over a charcoal brazier, while at the other end a couple of seats, covered with mats or a scarlet blanket or two, serve as resting-places for the patrons of the establishment. But whatever the place is, there will be one woman or more in attendance; and if you sit down upon the mats, you will be served at once with tea, and later, should you require more, with whatever the establishment can afford,—it may be only a slice of watermelon, or a hard pear; it may be eels on rice, vermicelli, egg soup, or a regular dinner, should the tea-house be one of the larger and more elaborately appointed ones. When the feast is over, the refreshments you have especially ordered are paid for in the regular way; but for the tea and sweetmeats offered, for which no especial charge is made, you are expected to leave a small sum as a present. In the less aristocratic[252] resting-places, a few cents for each person is sufficient to leave on the waiter with the empty cups of tea, for which loud and grateful thanks will be shouted out to the retiring party.
In the regular inn, the [41] amounts to several dollars, for a party remaining any time, and it is supposed to pay for all the extra services and attention bestowed on guests by the polite host and hostess and the servants in attendance. The , done up neatly in paper, with the words written on it, is given with as much formality as any present in Japan. The guest claps his hands to summon the maid. When it is heard, for the thin paper walls of a Japanese house let through every noise, voices from all sides will shout out , or , which means that you have been heard, and understood. Presently a maid will softly open your door, and with head low down will ask what you wish. You tell her to summon the[253] landlord. In a few moments he appears, and you push the to him, making some conventional self-depreciating speech, as, “You have done a great deal for our comfort, and we wish to give you this , though it is only a trifle.” The landlord, with every expression of surprise, will bow down to the ground with thanks, raising the small package to his head in token of acceptance and gratitude, and will murmur in low tones how little he has done for the comfort of his guests; and then, the self-depreciation and formal words of thanks on his side being ended, he will finally go down stairs to see how much he has gotten. But, whether more or less than he had expected, nothing but extreme gratitude and politeness appears on his face as he presents a fan, confectionery, or some trifle, as a return for the , and speeds the parting guests with his lowest bow and kindliest smile, after having seen to every want that could be attended to.
Once, at Nikkō, I started with a friend for a morning walk to a place described in the guide-book. The day was hot and the guide-book hazy, and we lost the road to[254] the place for which we had set out, but found ourselves at last in a beautiful garden, with a pretty lake in its centre, a little red-lacquered shrine reflected in the lake, and a tea-house hospitably open at one side. The teakettle was boiling over the little charcoal fire; melons, eggs, and various unknown comestibles were on the little counter; but no voice bade us welcome as we approached, and when we sat down on the edge of the piazza, we could see no one within the house. We waited, however, for the day was hot, and time is not worth much in rural Japan. Pretty soon a small, wizened figure made its appearance in the distance, hurrying and talking excitedly as it came near enough to see two foreign ladies seated upon the piazza. Many bows and profuse apologies were made by the little old woman, who seemed to be the solitary occupant of the pretty garden, and who had for the moment deserted her post to do the day’s marketing in the neighboring village. The apologies having been smilingly received, the old lady set herself to the task of making her guests comfortable. First she brought two tumblers of water, cold as ice,[255] from the spring that gushed out of a great rock in the middle of the little lake. Then she retired behind a screen and changed her dress, returning speedily to bring us tea. Then she retreated to her diminutive kitchen, and presently came back smiling, bearing eight large raw potatoes on a tray. These she presented to us with a deep bow, apparently satisfied that she had at last brought us something we would be sure to like. We left the potatoes behind us when we went away, and undoubtedly the old lady is wondering still over the mysterious ways of the foreigners, as we are over those of the Japanese tea-house keepers.
One summer, when I was spending a week at a Japanese hotel at quite a fashionable seaside resort, I became interested in a little old woman who visited the hotel daily, carrying, suspended by a yoke from her shoulders, two baskets of fruit, which she sold to the guests of the hotel. As I was on the ground floor, and my room was, in the daytime, absolutely without walls on two sides, she was my frequent visitor, and, for the sake of her pleasant ways and cheerful smiles, I bought enough hard[256] pears of her to have given the colic to an elephant. One day, after her visit to me, as I was sitting upon the matted and roofed square that served me for a room, my eye wandered idly toward the bathing beach, and, under the slight shelter where the bathers were in the habit of depositing their sandals and towels, I spied the well-known yoke and fruit baskets, as well as a small heap of blue cotton garments that I knew to be the clothing of the little fruit-vender. She had evidently taken a moment when trade was slack to enjoy a dip in the soft, blue, summer sea. Hardly had I made up my mind as to the meaning of the fruit baskets and the clothing, when our little friend herself emerged from the sea and, sitting down on a bench, proceeded to rub herself off with the small but artistically decorated blue towel that every peasant in Japan has always with him, however lacking he may be in all other appurtenances of the toilet. As she sat there, placidly rubbing away, a friend of the opposite sex made his appearance on the scene. I watched to see what she would do, for the Japanese code of etiquette is quite different from ours in such[257] a predicament. She continued her employment until he was quite close, showing no unseemly haste, but continuing her polishing off in the same leisurely manner in which she had begun it; then at the proper moment she rose from her seat, bowed profoundly, and smilingly exchanged the greetings proper for the occasion, both parties apparently unconscious of any lack in the toilet of the lady. The male friend then passed on about his business; the little woman completed her toilet without further interruptions, shouldered her yoke, and jogged cheerfully on to her home in the little village, a couple of miles away.
As one travels through rural Japan in summer and sees the half-naked men, women, and children that pour out from every village on one’s route and surround the at every stopping place, one sometimes wonders whether there is in the country any real civilization, whether these half-naked people are not more savage than civilized; but when one finds everywhere good hotels, scrupulous cleanliness in all the appointments of toilet and table, polite and careful service, honest and willing performance of labor bargained for, together[258] with the gentlest and pleasantest of manners, even on the part of the gaping crowd that shut out light and air from the traveling foreigner who rests for a moment at the village inn, one is forced to reconsider a judgment formed only upon one peculiarity of the national life, and to conclude that there is certainly a high type of civilization in Japan, though differing in many important particulars from our own. A careful study of the Japanese ideas of decency, and frequent conversation with refined and intelligent Japanese ladies upon this subject, has led me to the following conclusion. According to the Japanese standard, any exposure of the person that is merely incidental to health, cleanliness, or convenience in doing necessary work, is perfectly modest and allowable; but an exposure, no matter how slight, that is simply for show, is in the highest degree indelicate. In illustration of the first part of this conclusion, I would refer to the open bath-houses, the naked laborers, the exposure of the lower limbs in wet weather by the turning up of the , the entirely nude condition of the country children in summer, and the very slight clothing [259]that even adults regard as necessary about the house or in the country during the hot season. In illustration of the last part, I would mention the horror with which many Japanese ladies regard that style of foreign dress which, while covering the figure completely, reveals every detail of the form above the waist, and, as we say, shows off to advantage a pretty figure. To the Japanese mind it is immodest to want to show off a pretty figure. As for the ball-room costumes, where neck and arms are freely exposed to the gaze of multitudes, the Japanese woman, who would with entire composure take her bath in the presence of others, would be in an agony of shame at the thought of appearing in public in a costume so indecent as that worn by many respectable American and European women. Our judgment would indeed be a hasty one, should we conclude that the sense of decency is wanting in the Japanese as a race, or that the women are at all lacking in the womanly instinct of modesty. When the point of view from which they regard these matters is once obtained, the apparent inconsistencies and incongruities are fully explained, [260]and we can do justice to our Japanese sister in a matter in regard to which she is too often cruelly misjudged.
There seems no doubt at all that among the peasantry of Japan one finds the women who have the most freedom and independence. Among this class, all through the country, the women, though hard-worked and possessing few comforts, lead lives of intelligent, independent labor, and have in the family positions as respected and honored as those held by women in America. Their lives are fuller and happier than those of the women of the higher classes, for they are themselves bread-winners, contributing an important part of the family revenue, and they are obeyed and respected accordingly. The Japanese lady, at her marriage, lays aside her independent existence to become the subordinate and servant of her husband and parents-in-law, and her face, as the years go by, shows how much she has given up, how completely she has sacrificed herself to those about her. The Japanese peasant woman, when she marries, works side by side with her husband, finds life full of interest outside of the simple household[261] work, and, as the years go by, her face shows more individuality, more pleasure in life, less suffering and disappointment, than that of her wealthier and less hard-working sister.Footnotes:
[39] The laws against the and , making of them a distinct, unclean class, and forbidding their intermarriage with any of the higher classes, have recently been abolished. There is now no rank distinction of any practical value, except that between noble and common people. Héimin and samurai are now indiscriminately mingled. [40] Toyotomi Hidéyoshi, a peasant boy, rose from the position of a groom to be the actual ruler of Japan during the Middle Ages. He it was who in 1587 issued a decree of banishment against the Christian missionaries in Japan. He is called Faxiba in the writings of these missionaries, and in Japan he is frequently spoken of as Taiko Sama, a title, not a name; but a title that, used alone, refers always to him. For further account of his life, see Griffis, , book i., chap. xxiv. [41] is, literally, “money for tea,” and is equivalent to our tips to the waiters and porters at hotels. The varies with the wealth and rank of the guests, the duration of the stay, and the attention which has been bestowed. is the honorific placed before the word in writing. [262]CHAPTER X.
LIFE IN THE CITIES. The great cities of Japan afford remarkable opportunities for seeing the life of the common people, for the little houses and shops, with their open fronts, reveal the in a way not known in our more secluded homes. The employment of the merchant being formerly the lowest of respectable callings, one does not find even yet in Japan many great stores or a very high standard of business morality, for the business of the country was left in the hands of those who were too stupid or too unambitious to raise themselves above that social class. Hence English and American merchants, who only see Japan from the business side, continually speak of the Japanese as dishonest, tricky, and altogether unreliable, and greatly prefer to deal with the Chinese, who have much of the business virtue that is characteristic of the English as a nation. Only within a[263] few years have the samurai, or indeed any one who was capable of figuring in any higher occupation in life, been willing to adopt the calling of the merchant; but many of the abler Japanese of to-day have begun to see that trade is one of the most important factors of a nation’s well-being, and that the business of buying and selling, if wisely and honestly done, is an employment that nobody need be ashamed to enter. There are in Japan a few great merchants whose word may be trusted, and whose obligations will be fulfilled with absolute honesty; but a large part of the buying and selling is still in the hands of mercantile freebooters, who will take an advantage wherever it is possible to get one, in whose morality honesty has no place, and who have not yet discovered the efficacy of that virtue simply as a matter of policy. Their trade, conducted in a small way upon small means, is more of the nature of a game, in which one person is the winner and the other the loser, than a fair exchange, in which both parties obtain what they want. It is the mediæval, not the modern idea of business, that is still held among Japanese merchants. With[264] them, trade is a warfare between buyer and seller, in which every man must take all possible advantage for himself, and it is the lookout of the other party if he is cheated.
In Tōkyō, the greatest and most modernized of the cities of the empire, the shops are not the large city stores that one sees in European and American cities, but little open-fronted rooms, on the edge of which one sits to make one’s purchases, while the proprietor smiles and bows and dickers; setting his price by the style of his customer’s dress, or her apparent ignorance of the value of the desired article. Some few large dry-goods stores there are, where prices are set and dickering is unnecessary;[*] and in the , or bazaars, one may buy almost anything needed by Japanese of all classes, from house furnishings to foreign hats, at prices plainly marked upon them, and from which there is no variation. But one’s impression of the state of trade in Japan is, that it is still in a very primitive and undeveloped condition, and is surprisingly behind the other parts of Japanese civilization.
The shopping of the ladies of the large[265] and of wealthy families is done mostly in the home; for all the stores are willing at any time, on receiving an order, to send up a clerk with a bale of crêpes, silks, and cottons tied to his back, and frequently towering high above his head as he walks, making him look like the proverbial ant with a grain of wheat. He sets his great bundle carefully down on the floor, opens the enormous , or bundle handkerchief, in which it is enveloped, and takes out roll after roll of silk or chintz, neatly done up in paper or yellow cotton. With infinite patience, he waits while the merits of each piece are examined and discussed, and if none of his stock proves satisfactory, he is willing to come again with a new set of wares, knowing that in the end purchases will be made sufficient to cover all his trouble.
The less aristocratic people are content to go to the stores themselves; and the business streets of a Japanese city, such as the Ginza in Tōkyō, are full of women, young and old, as well as merry children, who enjoy the life and bustle of the stores. Like all things else in Japan, shopping takes plenty of time. At Mitsui’s, the[266] largest silk store in Tōkyō, one will see crowds of clerks sitting upon the matted floors, each with his , or adding machine, by his side; and innumerable small boys, who rush to and fro, carrying armfuls of fabrics to the different clerks, or picking up the same fabrics after the customer who has called for them has departed. The store appears, to the foreign eye, to be simply a roofed and matted platform upon which both clerks and customers sit. This platform is screened from the street by dark blue cotton curtains or awnings hung from the low projecting eaves of the heavy roof. As the customers take their seats, either on the edge of the platform, or, if they have come on an extended shopping bout, upon the straw mat of the platform itself, a small boy appears with tea for the party; an obsequious clerk greets them with the customary salutations of welcome, pushes the charcoal brazier toward them, that they may smoke, or warm their hands, before proceeding to business, and then waits expectantly for the name of the goods that his customers desire to see. When this is given, the work begins; the little boys are summoned,[267] and are soon sent off to the great fire-proof warehouse, which stands with heavy doors thrown open, on the other side of the platform, away from the street. Through the doorway one can see endless piles of costly stuffs stored safely away, and from these piles the boys select the required fabric, loading themselves down with them so that they can barely stagger under the weights that they carry. As the right goods are not always brought the first time, and as, moreover, there is an endless variety in the colors and patterns in even one kind of silk, there is always plenty of time for watching the busy scene,—for sipping tea, or smoking a few whiffs from the tiny pipes that so many Japanese, both men and women, carry always with them. When the purchase is at last made, there is still some time to be spent by the customer in waiting until the clerk has made an abstruse calculation upon his , the transaction has been entered in the books of the firm, and a long bill has been written and stamped, and handed to her with the bundle. During her stay in the store, the foreign customer, making her first visit to the place, is frequently startled by[268] loud shouts from the whole staff of clerks and small boys,—outcries so sudden, so simultaneous, and so stentorian, that she cannot rid herself of the idea that something terrible is happening every time that they occur. She soon learns, however, that these manifestations of energy are but the way in which the Japanese merchant speeds the departing purchaser, and that the apparently inarticulate shouts are but the formal phrase, “Thanks for your continued favors,” which is repeated in a loud tone by every employee in the store whenever a customer departs. When she herself is at last ready to leave, a chorus of yells arises, this time for her benefit; and as she skips into the and is whirled away, she hears continued the busy hum of voices, the clattering of , the thumping of the bare feet of the heavily laden boys, and the loud shouts of thanks with which departing guests are honored.
There is less pomp and circumstance about the smaller stores, for all the goods are within easy reach, and the shops for household utensils and chinaware seem to have nearly the whole stock in trade piled up in front, or even in the street itself.[269] Many such little places are the homes of the people who keep them. And at the back are rooms, which serve for dwelling rooms, opening upon well-kept gardens. The whole work of the store is often attended to by the proprietor, assisted by his wife and family, and perhaps one or two apprentices. Each of the workers, in turn, takes an occasional holiday, for there is no day in the Japanese calendar when the shops are all closed; and even New Year’s Day, the great festival of the year, finds most of the stores open. Yet the dwellers in these little homes, living almost in the street, and in the midst of the bustle and crowd and dust of Tōkyō, have still time to enjoy their holidays and their little gardens, and have more pleasure and less hard work than those under similar circumstances in our own country.
The stranger visiting any of the great Japanese cities is surprised by the lack of large stores and manufactories, and often wonders where the beautiful lacquer work and porcelains are made, and where the gay silks and crêpes are woven. There are no large establishments where such things are turned out by wholesale. The[270] delicate vases, the bronzes, and the silks are often made in humblest homes, the work of one or two laborers with rudest tools. There are no great manufactories to be seen, and the bane of so many cities, the polluting factory smoke, never rises over the cities of Japan. The hard, confining factory life, with its never-ceasing roar of machinery, bewildering the minds and intellects of the men who come under its deadening influences, until they become scarcely more than machines themselves, is a thing as yet almost unknown in Japan. The life of the man even, hard and comfortless as it may seem to run all day like a horse through the crowded city streets, is one that keeps him in the fresh air, under the open sky, and quickens his powers both of body and mind. To the poor in Japanese cities is never denied the fresh air and sunshine, green trees and grass; and the beautiful parks and gardens are found everywhere, for the enjoyment of even the meanest and lowest.
On certain days in the month, in different sections of the city, are held night festivals near temples, and many shopkeepers take the opportunity to erect temporary[271] booths, in which they so arrange their wares as to tempt the passers-by as they go to and fro. Very often there is a magnificent display of young trees, potted plants, and flowers, brought in from the country and ranged on both sides of the street. Here the gardeners make lively sales, as the displays are often fine in themselves, and show to a special advantage in the flaring torchlight. The eager venders, who do all they can to call the attention of the crowd to their wares, make many good bargains. The purchase requires skill on both sides, for flower men are proverbial in their high charges, asking often five and ten times the real value of a plant, but coming down in price almost immediately on remonstrance. You ask the price of a dwarf wistaria growing in a pot. The man answers at once, “Two dollars.” “Two dollars!” you answer in surprise, “it is not worth more than thirty or forty cents.” “Seventy-five, then,” he will respond; and thus the buyer and seller approach nearer in price, until the bargain is struck somewhere near the first price offered. Price another plant and there would be the same process to go over[272] again; but as the evening passes, prices go lower and lower, for the distances that the plants have been brought are great, and the labor of loading up and carrying back the heavy pots is a weary one, and when the last customer has departed the merchants must work late into the night to get their wares safely home again.
But beside the flower shows, there are long rows of booths, which, with the many visitors who throng the streets, make a gay and lively scene. So dense is the crowd that it is with difficulty one can push through on foot or in . The darkness is illuminated by torches, whose weird flames flare and smoke in the wind, and shine down upon the little sheds which line both sides of the road, and contain so tempting a display of cheap toys and trinkets that not only the children, but their elders, are attracted by them. Some of the booths are devoted to dolls; others to toys of various kinds; still others to birds in cages, goldfish in globes, queer chirping insects in wicker baskets, pretty ornaments for the hair, fans, candies, and cakes of all sorts, roasted beans and peanuts, and other things too numerous to[273] mention. The long line of stalls ends with booths, or tents, in which shows of dancing, jugglery, educated animals, and monstrosities, natural or artificial, may be seen for the moderate admission fee of two sen. Each of these shows is well advertised by the beating of drums, by the shouting of doorkeepers, by wonderful pictures on the outside to entice the passer-by, or even by an occasional brief lifting of the curtains which veil the scene from the crowd without, just long enough to afford a tantalizing glimpse of the wonders within. Great is the fascination to the children in all these things, and the little feet are never weary until the last booth is passed, and the quiet of neighboring streets, lighted only by wandering lanterns, strikes the home-returning party by its contrast with the light and noise of the festival. The supposed object of the expedition, the visit to the temple, has occupied but a small share of time and attention, and the little hands are filled with the amusing toys and trifles bought, and the little minds with the merry sights seen. Nor are those who remain at home forgotten, but the pleasure-seekers who visit the[274] fair carry away with them little gifts for each member of the family, and the , or present given on the return, is a regular institution of Japanese home life.[42]
By ten o’clock, when the crowds have dispersed and the purchasers have all gone home and gone to bed, the busy booth-keepers take down their stalls, pack up their wares, and disappear, leaving no trace of the night’s gayeties to greet the morning sun.
Beside these evening shows, which occur monthly or oftener, there are also great festivals of the various gods, some celebrated annually, others at intervals of some years. These last for several days, and during that time the quarter of the city in which they occur seems entirely given over to festivity. The streets are gayly decorated with flags, and bright lanterns—all alike in design and color—are hung in rows from the low eaves of the houses. Young bamboo-trees set along the street, and decorated with bits of bright-colored tissue paper, are a frequent and effective [275]accompaniment of these festivals, and here and there throughout the district are set up high stands, on the tops of which musicians with squeaky flutes, and drums of varying calibre, keep up a din more festive than harmonious. It takes a day or two for the rejoicings to get fully under way, but by the second or third day the fun is at its height, and the streets are thronged with merrymakers. A great deal of labor and strength, as well as ingenuity, is spent in the construction of enormous floats, or , lofty platforms of two stories, either set on wheels and drawn by black bullocks or crowds of shouting men, or carried by poles on men’s shoulders. Upon the first floor of these great floats is usually a company of dancers, or mummers, who dance, attitudinize, or make faces for the amusement of the crowds that gather along their route; while up above, an effigy of some hero in Japanese history, or the figure of some animal or monster, looks down unmoved upon the absurdities below. Each is attended, not only by the men who draw it, but by companies of others in some uniform costume; and sometimes graceful professional[276] dancing-girls are hired to march in the procession, or to dance upon the lofty . At the time of the festivities which accompanied the promulgation of the Constitution, three days of jollification were held in Tōkyō, days of such universal fun and frolic that it will be known among the common people, to all succeeding generations, as the “Emperor’s big .” Every quarter of the city vied with every other in the production of gorgeous , and the streets were gay with every conceivable variety of decoration, from the little red-and-white paper lanterns, that even the poorest hung before their houses, to the great evergreen arches, set with electric lights, with which the great business streets were spanned thickly from end to end. An evening walk through one of these thoroughfares was a sight to be remembered for a lifetime. The magnificent represented all manner of quaint conceits. A great bivalve drawn by yelling crowds—which halted occasionally—opened and displayed between its shells a group of beautifully dressed girls, who danced one of the pantomimic dances of the country, accompanied by the twanging[277] melodies of the . Then slowly the great shell closed, once more the shouting crowds seized hold of the straining ropes, and the great bivalve with its fair freight was drawn slowly along through the gayly illuminated streets. Jimmu Tenno and other heroes of Japanese legend or history, each upon its lofty platform, a white elephant, and countless other subjects were represented in the festival cars sent forth by all the districts of the city to celebrate the great event.
Upon such festival occasions the shopkeeper does not put up his shutters and leave his place of business, but the open shop-fronts add much to the gay appearance of the street. There are no signs of business about, but the floor of the shop is covered with bright-red blankets; magnificent gilded screens form an imposing background to the little room; and seated on the floor are the shopkeeper, his family, and guests, eating, drinking tea, and smoking, as cosily as if all the world and his wife were not gazing upon the gay and homelike interior. Sometimes companies of dancers, or other entertainments furnished by the wealthier shopkeepers, will[278] attract gaping crowds, who watch and block the street until the advance guard of some approaching scatters them for a moment.
In Japan, as in other parts of the world, the country people are rather looked down upon by the dwellers in the city for their slowness of intellect, dowdiness of dress, and boorishness of manners; while the country people make fun of the fads and fashions of the city, and rejoice that they are not themselves the slaves of novelty, and especially of the foreign innovations that play so prominent a part in Japanese city life to-day. “The frog in the well knows not the great ocean,” is the snub with which the Japanese cockney sets down Farmer Rice-Field’s expressions of opinion; while the conservative countryman laughs at the foreign affectations of the Tōkyō man, and returns to his village with tales of the cookery of the capital: so extravagant is it that sugar is used in everything; it is even rumored that the Tōkyōites put sugar in their tea.
But while the country laughs and wonders at the city, nevertheless, in Japan as elsewhere, there is a constant crowding of[279] the young life of the country into the livelier and more entertaining city. Tōkyō especially is the goal of every young countryman’s ambition, and thither he goes to seek his fortune, finding, alas! too often, only the hard lot of the man, instead of the wealth and power that his country dreams had shown him.
The lower class women of the cities are in many respects like their sisters of the rural districts, except that they have less freedom than the country women in what the economists call “direct production.” The wells and water tanks that stand at convenient distances along the streets of Tōkyō are frequently surrounded by crowds of women, drawing water, washing rice, and chattering merrily over their occupations. They meet and exchange ideas freely with each other and with the men, but they have not the diversity of labor that country life affords, confining themselves more closely to indoor and domestic work, and leaving the bread-winning more entirely to the men.
There are, however, occupations in the city for women, by which they may support themselves or their families. A good hair-dresser [280]may make a handsome living; indeed, she does so well that it is proverbial among the Japanese that a hair-dresser’s husband has nothing to do. Though professional tailors are mostly men, many women earn a small pittance in taking in sewing and in giving sewing lessons; and as instructors in the ceremonial tea, etiquette, music, painting, and flower arrangement, many women of the old school are able to earn an independence, though none of these occupations are confined to the women alone.
The business of hotel-keeping we have referred to in a previous chapter, and it is a well-known fact that unless a hotel-keeper has a capable wife, his business will not succeed. At present, all over Tōkyō, small restaurants, where food is served in the foreign style, are springing up, and these are usually conducted by a man and his wife who have at some time served as cook and waitress in a foreign family, and who conduct the business cöoperatively and on terms of good-fellowship and equality. In these little eating-houses, where a well-cooked foreign dinner of from three to six courses is served for the moderate sum of[281] thirty or forty cents, the man usually does the cooking, the woman the serving and handling of the money, until the time arrives when the profits of the business are sufficient to justify the hiring of more help. When this time comes, the labor is redistributed, the woman frequently taking upon herself the reception of the guests and the keeping of the accounts, while the hired help waits on the tables.
One important calling, in the eyes of many persons, especially those of the lower classes, is that of fortune-telling; and these guides in all matters of life, both great and small, are to be found in every section of the city. They are consulted on every important step by believing ones of all classes. An impending marriage, an illness, the loss of any valuable article, a journey about to be taken,—these are all subjects for the fortune-teller. He tells the right day of marriage, and says whether the fates of the two parties will combine well; gives clues to the causes of sudden illness, and information as to what has become of lost articles, and whether they will be recovered or not. Warned thus by the fortune-teller against evils that may[282] happen, many ingenious expedients are resorted to, to avoid the ill foretold.
A man and his family were about to move from their residence to another part of the city. They sent to know if the fates were propitious to the change for all the family. The day and year of birth of each was told, and then the fortune-teller hunted up the various signs, and sent word that the direction of the new home was excellent for the good luck of the family as a whole, and the move a good one for each member of it except one of the sons; the next year the same move would be bad for the father. As the family could not wait two years before moving, it was decided that the change of residence should be made at once, but that the son should live with his uncle until the next year. The uncle’s home was, however, inconveniently remote, and so the young man stayed as a visitor at his father’s house for the remaining months of the year, after which he became once more a member of the household. Thus the inconvenience and the evil were both avoided.[*]
Another story comes to my mind now of a dear old lady, the Go Inkyo Sama of a[283] house of high rank, who late in life came to Tōkyō to live with her brother and his young and somewhat foreignized wife. The brother himself, while not a Christian, had little belief in the old superstitions of his people; his wife was a professing Christian. Soon after the old lady’s arrival in Tōkyō, her sister-in-law fell ill, and before she had recovered her strength the children, one after another, came down with various diseases, which, though in no case fatal, kept the family in a state of anxiety for more than a year. The old lady was quite sure that there was some witchcraft or art-magic at work among her dear ones, and, after consulting the servants (for she knew that she could expect no sympathy in her plans from either her brother or his wife), she betook herself to a fortune-teller to discover through his means the causes of the illness in the family. The fortune-teller revealed to her the fact that two occult forces were at work bringing evil upon the house. One was the evil spirit of a spring or well that had been choked with stones, or otherwise obstructed in its flow, and that chose this way of bringing its afflictions to the attention of mortals.[284] The other was the spirit of a horse that had once belonged in the family, and that after death revenged itself upon its former masters for the hard service wherewith it had been made to serve. The only way in which these two powers could be appeased would be by finding the well, and removing the obstructions that choked it, and by erecting an image of the horse and offering to it cakes and other meat-offerings. The fortune-teller hinted, moreover, that for a consideration he might be able to afford material aid in the search for the well.
At this information Go Inkyo Sama was much perturbed, for further aid for her afflicted family seemed to require the use of money, and of that commodity she had very little, being mainly dependent upon her brother for support. She returned to her home and consulted the servants upon the matter; but though they quite agreed with her that something should be done, they had little capital to invest in the enterprises suggested by the fortune-teller. At last, the old lady went to her brother, but he only laughed at her well-meant attempts to help his family, and refused to[285] give her money for such a purpose. She retired discouraged, but, urged by the servants, she decided to make a last appeal, this time to her sister-in-law, who must surely be moved by the evil that was threatening herself and her children. Taking some of the head servants with her, she went to her sister and presented the case. This was her last resort, and she clung to her forlorn hope longer than many would have done, the servants adding their arguments to her impassioned appeals, only to find out after all that the steadfast sister could not be moved, and that she would not propitiate the horse’s spirit, or allow money to be used for such a purpose. She gave it up then, and sat down to await the fate of her doomed house, doubtless wondering much and sighing often over the foolish skepticism of her near relatives, and wishing that the rationalistic tendencies of the time would take a less dangerous form than the neglecting of the plainest precautions for life and health. The fate has not yet come, and now at last Go Inkyo Sama seems to have resigned herself to the belief that it has been averted from the heads of the dear ones by a power unknown to the fortune-teller.
[286]
Beside these callings, there are other employments which are not regarded as wholly respectable by either Japanese or foreigners. The , or establishments where dancing-girls are trained, and let out by the day or evening to tea-houses or private parties, are usually managed by women. At these establishments little girls are taken, sometimes by contract with their parents, sometimes adopted by the proprietors of the house, and from very early youth are trained not only in the art of dancing, but are taught singing and -playing, all the etiquette of serving and entertaining guests, and whatever else goes to make a girl charming to the opposite sex. When thoroughly taught, they form a valuable investment, and well repay the labor spent upon them, for a popular géisha commands a good price everywhere, and has her time overcrowded with engagements. A Japanese entertainment is hardly regarded as complete without géishas in attendance, and their dancing, music, and graceful service at supper form a charming addition to an evening of enjoyment at a tea-house. It is these géishas, too, who at are hired to[287] march in quaint uniforms in the procession, or, borne aloft on great , dance for the benefit of the admiring crowds.
The Japanese dances are charmingly graceful and modest; the swaying of the body and limbs, the artistic management of the flowing draperies, the variety of themes and costumes of the different dances, all go to make an entertainment by géishas one of the pleasantest of Japanese enjoyments. Sometimes, in scarlet and yellow robes, the dainty maidens imitate, with their supple bodies, the dance of the maple leaves as they are driven hither and thither in the autumn wind; sometimes, with tucked-up and jaunty red petticoats, they play the part of little country girls carrying their eggs to market in the neighboring village. Again, clad in armor, they simulate the warlike gestures and martial stamp of some of the old-time heroes; or, with whitened faces and hoary locks, they perform with rake and broom the dance of the good old man and old woman who play so prominent a part in Japanese pictures. And then, when the dance is over, and all are bewitched with their grace and beauty, they descend to[288] the supper-room and ply their temporary employers with the bottle, laughing and jesting the while, until there is little wonder if the young men at the entertainment drink more than is good for them, and leave the tea-house at last thoroughly tipsy, and enslaved by the bright eyes and merry wits of some of the Hebes who have beguiled them through the evening.
The géishas unfortunately, though fair, are frail. In their system of education, manners stand higher than morals, and many a géisha gladly leaves the dancing in the tea-houses to become the concubine of some wealthy Japanese or foreigner, thinking none the worse of herself for such a business arrangement, and going cheerfully back to her regular work, should her contract be unexpectedly ended. The géisha is not necessarily bad, but there is in her life much temptation to evil, and little stimulus to do right, so that, where one lives blameless, many go wrong, and drop below the margin of respectability altogether. Yet so fascinating, bright, and lively are these géishas that many of them have been taken by men of good position as wives, and are now the heads of[289] the most respectable homes. Without true education or morals, but trained thoroughly in all the arts and accomplishments that please,—witty, quick at repartee, pretty, and always well dressed,—the géisha has proved a formidable rival for the demure, quiet maiden of good family, who can only give her husband an unsullied name, silent obedience, and faithful service all her life. The freedom of the present age, as shown in the chapter on “Marriage and Divorce,” and as seen in the choice of such wives, has presented this great problem to the thinking women of Japan. If the wives of the leaders in Japan are to come from among such a class of women, something must be done, and done quickly, for the sake of the future of Japan; either to raise the standards of the men in regard to women, or to change the old system of education for girls. A liberal education, and more freedom in early life for women, has been suggested, and is now being tried, but the problem of the géisha and her fascination is a deep one in Japan.
Below the géisha in respectability stands the jōrō, or licensed prostitute. Every[290] city in Japan has its disreputable quarter, where the various , or licensed houses of prostitution, are situated. The supervision that the government exercises over these places is extremely rigid; the effort is made, by licensing and regulating them, to minimize the evils that must flow from them. The proprietors of the do everything in their power to make their houses, grounds, and employees attractive, and, to the unsuspecting foreigner, this portion of the city seems often the pleasantest and most respectable. A jōrō need never be taken for a respectable woman, for her dress is distinctive, and a stay of a short time in Japan is long enough to teach even the most obtuse that the , or sash, tied in front instead of behind, is one of the badges of shame. But though the occupation of the jōrō is altogether disreputable,—though the prostitute quarter is the spot to which the police turn for information in regard to criminals and law-breakers, a sort of a trap into which, sooner or later, the offender against the law is sure to fall,—Japanese public opinion, though recognizing the evil as a great one, does not look upon the professional prostitute [291]with the loathing which she inspires in Christian countries. The reason for this lies, not solely in the lower moral standards although it is true that sins of this character are regarded much more leniently in Japan than in England or America. The reason lies very largely in the fact that these women are seldom free agents. Many of them are virtually slaves, sold in childhood to the keepers of the houses in which they work, and trained, amid the surroundings of the , for the life which is the only life they have ever known. A few may have sacrificed themselves freely but reluctantly for those whom they love, and by their revolting slavery may be earning the means to keep their dear ones from starvation or disgrace. Many are the Japanese romances that are woven about the virtuous jōrō, who is eventually rewarded by finding, even in the , a lover who is willing to raise her again to a life of respectability, and make her a happy wife and the mother of children. Such stories must necessarily lower the standard of morals in regard to chastity, but in a country in which innocent romance has little room for development, the imagination [292]must find its materials where it can. These give employment to thousands of women throughout the country, but in few cases do the women seek that employment, and more openings in respectable directions, together with a change in public opinion securing to every woman the right to her own person, would tend to diminish the number of victims that these institutions yearly draw into their devouring current.
Innocent and reputable amusements are many and varied in the cities. We have already mentioned incidentally the theatre as one of the favorite diversions of the people; and though it has never been regarded as a very refined amusement, it has done and is doing much for the education of the lower classes in the history and spirit of former times. Regular plays were never performed in the presence of the Emperor and his court, or the Shōgun and his nobles, but the dance was the only dramatic amusement of the nobility. This is an ancient Japanese theatrical performance, more, perhaps, like the Greek drama than anything in our modern life. All the movements of the actors are measured [293]and conventionalized, speech is a poetical recitative, the costumes are stiff and antique, masks are much used, and a chorus seated upon the stage chants audible comments upon the various situations. This alone, the most ancient and classical of Japanese theatrical performances, is considered worthy of the attention of the Emperor and the nobility, and takes the place with them of the more vulgar and realistic plays which delight common people.
The regular theatre preserves in many ways the life and costumes of old Japan, and the details of dress and scenery are most carefully studied. The actors are usually men, though there are “women theatres” in which all the parts are performed by women. In no case are the rôles taken by both sexes upon one stage. As the performances last all day, from ten or eleven in the forenoon until eight or nine in the evening, going to the theatre means much more than a few hours of entertainment after the day’s work is over. A lunch and dinner, with innumerable light edibles between, go to make up the usual bill of fare for a day at the play, and tea-houses in the neighborhood of the theatre provide the[294] necessary meals, a room to take them in, a resting-place between the acts, and whatever tea, cakes, and other refreshments may be ordered. These latter eatables are served by the attendants of the tea-house in the theatre boxes while the play is in progress, and the playgoers eat and smoke all day long through roaring farce or goriest tragedy.
Similar to the theatre in many ways are the public halls, where professional story-tellers, the , night after night, relate long stories to crowded audiences, as powerfully and vividly as the best trained elocutionist. Each gesture, and each modulation of the voice, is studied as carefully as are those of the actors. Many charming tales are told of old Japan, and even Western stories have found their way to these assemblies. A long story is often continued from night to night until finished. Unfortunately, the class of people who patronize these places is low, and the moral tone of some of the stories is pitched accordingly; but the best of the story-tellers—those who have talent and reputation—are often invited to come to entertainments given at private houses, to amuse[295] a large company by their eloquence or mimicry.
This is a very favorite entertainment, and the has so perfected the art of imitation that he can change in a moment from the tones of a child to those of an old woman. Solemn and sad subjects are touched upon, as well as merry and bright things, and he never fails to make his audience weep or laugh, according to his theme, and well merits the applause he always receives at the end.
The , or picnic to famous places to view certain flowers as they bloom in their season, though not belonging strictly to city life, forms one of the greatest of the pleasures of city people. The river Sumida, on which Tōkyō is situated, has lining its eastern shore for some miles the famous cherry-trees of Japan, with their large, double pink blossoms, and when, in April and May, these flowers are in their perfection, great crowds of sightseers flock to Mukōjima to enjoy the blossoms under the trees. The river is crowded with picnic parties in boats. Every tea-house along the banks is full of guests, and the little stalls and resting-places on the way find a[296] quick sale for fruit, confectionery, and light lunches. is often too freely imbibed by the merrymakers, whose flushed faces show, when returning homeward, how their day was spent. There is much quiet enjoyment, too, of the lovely blossoms, the broad, calm river, and the gayly dressed crowds. Hundreds and thousands of visitors crowd to the suburban places about Tōkyō,—to Uyéno Park for its cherry and peach blossoms, Kaméido for the plum and wistaria, Oji for its famous maple-trees, and many others, each noted for some special beauty. Dango Zaka has its own peculiar attraction, the famous chrysanthemum dolls. These ingenious figures are arranged so as to form tableaux,—scenes from history or fiction well known to all the people. They are of life size, and the faces, hands, and feet are made of some composition, and closely resemble life in every detail. But the curious thing in these tableaux is that the scenery, whether it be the representation of a waterfall, rocks, or bushes, the animals, and the dresses of the figures are made entirely of chrysanthemum twigs, leaves, and flowers, not cut and woven in, as at the first glance they[297] seem to be,—so closely are the leaves and flowers bound together to make the flat surface of different objects,—but alive and growing on the plants. It is impossible to tell where the roots and stems are hidden, for nothing is visible but (for example) the white spray and greenish shadows of a waterfall, or the parti-colored figures in a young girl’s dress. But, should it be the visitor’s good fortune to watch the repairing of one of these lifelike images, he will find that the entire body is a frame woven of split bamboo, within which the plants are placed, their roots packed in damp earth and bound about with straw, while their leaves and flowers are pulled through the basket frame and woven into whatsoever pattern the artistic eye and skillful fingers of the gardener may select. A roof of matting shields each group from the sun by day, and a slight sprinkling every night serves to keep the plants fresh for nearly a month, and the flowers continue their blooming during that time, as calmly as if in perfectly natural positions. Each of the gardeners of the neighborhood has his own little show, containing several tableaux, the entrance to which is guarded[298] by an officious gate-keeper, who shouts out the merits of his particular groups of figures, and forces his show-bills upon the passer-by, in the hope of securing the two sen admission fee which is required for each exhibit.
And so, amid the shopping, the festivals, the amusements of the great cities, the women find their lives varied in many ways. Their holidays from home duties are spent amid these enjoyments; and if they have not the out-of-door employments, the long walks up the mountains, the days spent in tea-picking, in harvesting, in all the varied work that comes to the country woman, the dwellers in the city have no lack of sights and sounds to amuse and interest them, and would not often care to exchange their lot for the freer and hardier life of the rustic.Footnotes:
[42] must be given, not only on the return from an evening of pleasure, but also on the return from a journey or pleasure trip of any kind. As a rule, the longer the absence, the finer and more costly must be the presents given on returning. [299]CHAPTER XI.
DOMESTIC SERVICE. To the foreigner, upon his arrival in Japan, the status of household servants is at first a source of much perplexity. There is a freedom in their relations with the families that they serve, that in this country would be regarded as impudence, and an independence of action that, in many cases, seems to take the form of direct disobedience to orders. From the steward of your household, who keeps your accounts, makes your purchases, and manages your affairs, to your man or groom, every servant in your establishment does what is right in his own eyes, and after the manner that he thinks best. Mere blind obedience to orders is not regarded as a virtue in a Japanese servant; he must do his own thinking, and, if he cannot grasp the reason for your order, that order will not be carried out. Housekeeping in Japan is frequently the despair of the thrifty[300] American housewife, who has been accustomed in her own country to be the head of every detail of household work, leaving to her servants only the mechanical labor of the hands. She begins by showing her Oriental help the work to be done, and just the way in which she is accustomed to having it done at home, and the chances are about one in a hundred that her servant will carry out her instructions. In the ninety-nine other cases, he will accomplish the desired result, but by means totally different from those to which the American housekeeper is accustomed. If the housewife is one of the worrying kind, who cares as much about the way in which the thing is done as about the accomplished result, the chances are that she will wear herself out in a fruitless endeavor to make her servants do things in her own way, and will, when she returns to America, assure you that Japanese servants are the most idle, stupid, and altogether worthless lot that it was ever her bad fortune to have to do with. But on the other hand, if the lady of the house is one who is willing to give general orders, and then sit down and wait until the work is done before criticising [301]it, she will find that by some means or other the work will be accomplished and her desire will be carried out, provided only that her servants see a reason for getting the thing done. And as she finds that her domestics will take responsibility upon themselves, and will work, not only with their hands, but with the will and intellect in her service, she soon yields to their protecting and thoughtful care for herself and her interests, and, when she returns to America, is loud in her praises of the competence and devotion of her Japanese servants. Even in the treaty ports, where contact with foreigners has given to the Japanese attendants the silent and repressed air that we regard as the standard manner for a servant, they have not resigned their right of private judgment, but, if faithful and honest, seek the best good of their employer, even if his best good involves disobedience of his orders. This characteristic of the Japanese servant is aggravated when he is in the employment of foreigners, for the simple reason that he is apt to regard the foreigner as a species of imbecile, who must be cared for tenderly because he is quite incompetent to care for[302] himself, but whose fancies must not be too much regarded. Of the relations of foreign employers and Japanese servants much might be said, but our business is with the position of the servants in a Japanese household.
Under the old feudal system, the servants of every family were its hereditary retainers, and from generation to generation desired no higher lot than personal service in the family to which they belonged. The principle of loyalty to the family interests was the leading principle in the lives of the servants, just as loyalty to the daimiō was the highest duty of the samurai. Long and intimate knowledge of the family history and traits of character rendered it possible for the retainer to work intelligently for his master, and do independently for him many things without orders. The servant in many cases knew his master and his master’s interests as well as the master himself, or even better, and must act by the light of his own knowledge in cases where his master was ignorant or misinformed. One can easily see how ties of good-fellowship and sympathy would arise between masters and servants, how a community [303]of interest would exist, so that the good of the master and his family would be the condition for the good of the servant and his family. In America, where the relation between servant and employer is usually a simple business arrangement, each giving certain specified considerations and nothing more, the relation of servant to master is shorn of all sentiment and affection; the servant’s interests are quite apart from those of his employer, and his main object is to get the specified work done and obtain more time for himself, and sooner or later to leave the despised occupation of domestic service for some higher and more independent calling. In Japan, where faithful service of a master was regarded as a calling worthy of absorbing any one’s highest abilities through a lifetime, the position of a servant was not menial or degrading, but might be higher than that of the farmer, merchant, or artisan. Whether the position was a high or a low one depended, not so much on the work done, as the person for whom it was done, and the servant of a daimiō or high rank samurai was worthy of more honor, and might be of far better birth, than the independent [304]merchant or artisan. As the former feudal system is yet within the memory of many of the present generation, and its feelings still alive in Japan, much of the old sentiment remains, even with the merely hired domestics in a household of the present day. The servant, by his own master, is addressed by name, with no title of respect, is treated as an inferior, and spoken to in the language used toward inferiors; but to all others he is a person to be treated with respect,—to be bowed to profoundly, addressed by the title San, and spoken to in the politest of language. You make a call upon a Japanese household, and the servant who admits you will expect to exchange the formal salutations with you. When you are ushered into the reception-room, should the lady of the house be absent, the head servants will not only serve you with tea and refreshments and offer you hospitalities in their mistress’s name, but may, if no one else be there, sit with you in the parlor, entertaining you with conversation until the return of the hostess. The servants of the household are by no means ignored socially, as they are with us, but are always recognized and saluted [305]by visitors as they pass into and out of the room, and are free to join in the conversation of their betters, should they see any place where it is possible that they may shed light on the subject discussed. But though given this liberty of speech, treated with much consideration, and having sometimes much responsibility, servants do not forget their places in the household, and do not seem to be bold or out of place. Indeed, the manners of some of them would seem, to any one but a Japanese, to denote a lack of proper self-respect,—an excess of humility, or an affectation of it.
In explaining to my scholars, who were reading “Little Lord Fauntleroy” in English, a passage where a footman is spoken of as having nearly disgraced himself by laughing at some quaint saying of the young lord, my little peeresses were amazed beyond measure to learn that in Europe and America a servant is expected never to show any interest in, or knowledge of, the conversation of his betters, never to speak unless addressed, and never to smile under any circumstances. Doubtless, in their shrewd little brains, they formed their opinion of a civilization imposing such barbarous restraints upon one class of persons.
[306]
The women servants in a family are in position more like the self-respecting, old-fashioned New England “help” than they are like the modern “girl.” They do not work all day while the mistress sits in the parlor doing nothing, and then, when their day’s work is done, go out, anxious to forget, in the society of their friends, the drudgery which only the necessity for self-support and the high wages to be earned render tolerable. As has been explained in a previous chapter, the mistress of the house—be she princess or peasant—is herself the head servant, and only gives up to her helpers the part of the labor which she has not the time or strength to perform. Certain menial duties toward her husband and children, every Japanese wife and mother must do herself, and would scorn to delegate to any other woman except in case of absolute necessity. Thus there is not that gap between mistress and maid that exists in our days among the women of this country. The servants work with their mistress, helping her in every possible way, and are treated as responsible members of the household, if not of the family itself.
[307]
At evening, when the wooden shutters are slid into their places around the porch and the lamps are lighted, the family gather together in the sitting-room around the to talk, free from interruption, for no visitor comes at such an hour to disturb the family circle. The mother will have her sewing or work, the children will study their lessons, and the others will talk or amuse themselves in various ways. Then, perhaps, the maidservants, having finished their tasks about the house, will join the circle,—always at a respectful distance,—will do their sewing and listen to the talk, and often join in the conversation, but in the most humble manner. Perhaps, at times, some one more ambitious than the others will bring in a book, and ask the meaning of a word or a phrase she has met in studying, and little helps of this kind are given most willingly.
We have seen that the ladies-in-waiting in the houses of the nobles are daughters of samurai, who gladly serve in these positions for the sake of the honor of such service, and the training they receive in noble houses. In a somewhat similar way, places in the homes of those of distinction[308] or skill in any art or profession are held in great demand among the Japanese; and a prominent poet, scholar, physician, or professional man of any kind is often asked by anxious parents to take their sons under his own roof, so that they may be under his influence, and receive the benefits of stay in such an honorable house. The parents who thus send their children may not be of low rank at all, but are usually not sufficiently well-to-do to spend much money in the education of their children. The position that such boys occupy in the household is a curious one. They are called , meaning students, and students they usually are, spending all their leisure moments and their evenings in study. They are never treated as inferiors, except in age and experience; they may or may not eat with the family, and are always addressed with respect. On the other hand, they always feel themselves to be dependents, and must be willing without wages to work in any capacity about the house, for the sake of picking up what crumbs of knowledge may fall to them from their master’s table. Service is not absolutely demanded of them, but they are[309] expected to do what will pay for their board, and do not regard menial work as below them, performing cheerfully all that the master may require of them.
In this way, a man of moderate means can help along many poor young men in whom he may feel interested, and in return be saved expense about his household work; and the students, while always considerately treated, are able without great expense to study,—often even to prepare for college, or get a start in one of the professions, for they have many leisure moments to devote to their books. Many prominent men of the present day have been students of this class, and are now in their turn helping the younger generation.
The boys that one sees in shops, or, with workmen of all kinds, helping in many little ways, are not hirelings, but apprentices, who hope some day to hold just as good positions as their masters, and expect to know as much, if not a great deal more. At the shop or in the home, they not only help in the trades or occupations they are learning, but are willing to do any kind of menial work for their master or his family in return for what they receive from[310] him; for they do not pay for their board nor for what they are taught. Even when the age of education is already past, grown men and women are willing to leave quite independent positions to shine with reflected glory as servants of persons of high rank or distinction. “The servant is not greater than his master” in Japan; but if the master is great, the servant is considerably greater than the man without a master.
In a country like Japan, where one finds but few wealthy people, there may be cause for wonder at the large households, where there are so many servants. There will be often as many as ten or more servants in a home where, in other ways, luxury and wealth are not displayed. In the , or the part of the house where the lady of the house stays, are found her own maid, and women who help in the work about the house, sew in their leisure moments, and are the higher servants of the family; there are also the children’s attendants, often one for each child, as well as the waiting women for the Go Inkyo Sama. In the kitchen are the cooks and their assistants, the lower servants, and usually [311]one or more men, who belong to the house, and, if this be the home of an official who keeps horses, a for each animal. There are also gardeners, errand-boys, and gate-keepers to guard the large . Such a retinue would seem a great deal to maintain; but servants’ wages are so low, and the cost of living is so small, that in this matter Japanese can afford to be luxurious. Three or four dollars will cover the cost of food for a month for one person, and women servants expect only a few dollars in wages for that time. The men receive much higher pay, but at the most it is less than what a good cook receives in many homes here. The wages do not include occasional presents, especially those given semi-annually,—a small sum of money, or dress material of some kind,—which servants expect, and which, of course, are no small item in the family expense.
Homes which maintain a great deal of style need many servants, for they expect to work less than the American servant, and are less able to hurry and rush through their work; and they do not desire, if they could, to take life so hard, even to earn[312] greater pay. The family, too, in many cases are used to having plenty of hands to do the work; the ladies are much less independent, and life has more formalities and red tape in Japan than in America. A great deal of the shopping is done by servants, who are sent out on errands and often do important business. Maids accompany their mistresses to make visits; servants go with parties to the theatre, to picnics, or on journeys, and these expeditions are as heartily enjoyed by them as by their masters. It is expected, especially of ladies and persons of high rank, that the details of the journey, the bargaining with coolies, the hiring of vehicles, and paying of bills, be left in charge of some manservant, who is entirely responsible, and who makes all the bargains, arranges the journey for his employer, and takes charge of everything,—even to the amount of fees given along the way.
Perhaps the highest positions of service now—positions honorable anywhere in Japan—are held by those who remain of the old retainers of daimiōs, and who regulate the households of the nobles. Such men must have good education, and[313] good judgment; for much is left in their hands, and they are usually gentlemen, who would be known as such anywhere. They are the stewards of the household, the secretaries of their masters; keep all accounts, for which they are responsible, and attend to the minor affairs of etiquette,—the latter no trifling duty in a noble’s home. It is they who accompany the nobles on their journeys,—regulate, advise, and attend to the little affairs of life, of which the master may be ignorant and cares not to learn. They are the last of the crowds of feudal retainers, who once filled castle and , and are now scattered throughout the length and breadth of the kingdom.
The higher servants in the household must be always more or less trained in etiquette, and are expected to look neat and tidy; to serve guests with tea and refreshments, without any orders to that effect; and to use their judgment in little household affairs, and thus help the lady of the house. They are usually clever with their fingers, and can sew neatly. When their mistress goes out they assist her to dress, and only a few words from her will be[314] necessary for them to have everything in readiness, from her sash and dress to all the little belongings of a lady’s costume. Many a bright, quick servant is found who will understand and guess her mistress’s wants without being told each detail, and these not only serve with their hands, but think for their employers.
Much less is expected of the lower servants, who belong to the kitchen, and have less to do with the family in general, and little or no personal contact with their masters. They perform their round of duties with little responsibility, and are regarded as much lower in the social scale of servants, of which we have seen there are many degrees.
The little , or rice-cook, who works all day in the kitchen, may be a fat, red-cheeked, frowsy-haired country girl,—patient, hard-working, and humble-minded,—willing to pother about all day with her kettles and pans, and sit up half the night over her own sewing, or the study of the often unfamiliar art of reading and writing; but entirely unacquainted with the details of etiquette, a knowledge of which is a necessity to the higher servants,—sometimes [315]even thrown into an agony of diffidence should it become necessary to appear before master or mistress.
Some of the customs of the household, in regard to servants, are quite striking to a foreigner. When the master of the house starts out each morning, besides the wife and children who see him off, all the servants who are not especially occupied—a goodly number, sometimes—come to the front door and bow down to bid him good-by. On his return, also, when the noise of the is heard, and the shout of the men, who call out “” when near the house, the servants go out to greet him, and bowing low speak the customary words of salutation. To a greater or less degree, the same is done to every member of the family, the younger members, however, receiving a smaller share of the attention than their elders.
When, as very often happens, a guest staying for any length of time in a family, or a frequent visitor, gives a servant a present of money or any trifle, the servant, after thanking the donor, takes the white paper bundle to the mistress of the house, and shows it to her, expressing his gratitude[316] to her for the gift, and also asking her to thank the giver. This, of course, is always done, for a gift to a servant is as much of a favor to the mistress as a present to a child is to its mother.
When a servant wishes to leave a family, she rarely goes to her mistress and states that she is dissatisfied with her position, and that some better chance has been offered her. Such a natural excuse never occurs to the Japanese servant, unless he be a man or , who may not know how to do better; for it is a very rude way of leaving service. The high-minded maid will proceed very differently.
A few days’ leave of absence to visit home will be asked and usually granted, for Japanese servants never have any settled time to take holiday. At the end of the given time the mistress will begin to wonder what has become of the girl, who has failed to return; and the lady will make up her mind she will not let her go again so readily. Just when she has a sharp reproof ready, a messenger or letter will arrive, with some good excuse, couched in most polite and humble terms. Sometimes it will be that she has found herself too weak[317] for service, or that work at home, or the illness of some member of the family, detains her, so that she is not able to come back at present. The excuse is understood and accepted as final, and another servant is sought for and obtained. After several weeks have passed, very likely after entering a new place, the old servant will turn up some day, express her thanks for all past kindnesses and regrets at not returning in time, will take her pay and her bundles, and disappear forever.
Even when servants come on trial for a few days, they often go away nominally to fetch their belongings, or make arrangements to return, but the lady of the house does not know whether the woman is satisfied or not. If she is not, her refusal is always brought by a third person. If the mistress, on her side, does not wish to hire the girl, she will not tell her so to her face, but will send word at this time to prevent her coming. Such is the etiquette in these matters of mistress and maid.[*]
Only by a multiplicity of details is it possible to give much idea of the position of servants in a Japanese house, and even then the result arrived at is that the positions [318]of what we would call domestic servants vary so greatly in honor and responsibility that it is almost impossible to draw any general conclusions upon this subject. We have seen that there is no distinct servile class in Japan, and that a person’s social status is not altered by the fact that he serves in a menial capacity, provided that service be of one above him in rank and not below him. This is largely the result of the grading of society upon other lines than those on which our social distinctions are founded, and partly the result of the fact that women, of whatever class, are servants so far as persons of the opposite sex in their own class are concerned. The women of Japan to-day form the great servile class, and, as they are also the wives and mothers of those whom they serve, they are treated, of course, with a certain consideration and respect never given to a mere servant; and through them, all domestic service is elevated.[*]
There are two employments which I have mentioned among those of domestic servants because they would be so classed by us, but which in Japan rank among the trades. The man and the[319] groom belong, as a rule, to a certain class at the bottom of the social ladder, and no samurai would think of entering either of these occupations, except under stress of severest poverty. The , or grooms, are a hereditary class and a regular guild, and have a reputation, among both Japanese and foreigners, as a betting, gambling, cheating, good-for-nothing lot. An honest is a rare phenomenon. The men are, many of them, sons of peasants, who come to the cities for the sake of earning more money, or leading a livelier life than can be found in the little thatched cottage among the rice-fields. Few of them are married, or have homes of their own. Many of them drink and gamble, and sow their wild oats in all possible ways; but they are a well-meaning, fairly honest, happy-go-lucky set, who lead hard lives of exhausting labor, and endure long hours of exposure to heat and cold, rain, snow, and blinding sunshine, not only with little complaint or grumbling, but with absolute cheerfulness and hilarity. A strong, fast man takes great pride in his strength and speed. It is a point of honor with him to pull his[320] passenger up the steepest and most slippery of hills, and never to heed him if he expresses a desire to walk in order to save his man. I have had my stoutly refuse, again and again, my offers to walk up a steep hill, even when the snow was so soft and slippery under his bare feet that he fell three times in making the ascent. “” (safe) would be his smiling response to all my protestations; and, once in a , the passenger is entirely at the mercy of his man in all matters of getting into and out of the vehicle. But though the man is, for the time being, the autocrat and controlling power over his passenger, and though he will not obey the behests of his employer, except so far as they seem reasonable and in accordance with the best interests of all concerned, he constitutes himself the protector and assistant, the adviser and counselor, of him whom he serves, and gives his best thought and intelligence, as well as his speed and strength, to the service in which he is engaged. If he thinks it safe, he will tear like an unbroken colt through the business portions of the city, knocking bundles out of the[321] hands of foot passengers, or even hitting the wayfarers themselves in a fierce dash through their midst, laughing gayly at their protests, and at threats of wrath to come from his helpless passenger; but should hint of insult or injury against , passenger, or passenger’s dog fall upon his ears, he will drop the shafts, and administer condign punishment to the offender, unchecked by thoughts of the ever-present police, or by any terrors that his employer may hold over his head. In no other country in the world, perhaps, can a lady place more entire confidence in the honor and loyalty of her servant than she can in Japan in her , whether he be her private servant, or one from a respectable stand. He may not do what she bids him, but that is quite a secondary matter. He will study her interests; will remember her likes and dislikes; will take a mental inventory of the various accessories or bundles that she carries with her, and will never permit her to lose or forget one of them; will run his legs off in her service, and defend her and her property valiantly in case of need. Of course, as in all classes there are different grades,[322] so there are men who seem to have sunk so low in their calling that they have lost all feeling of loyalty to their employer, and only care selfishly for the pittance they gain. Such men are often found in the treaty ports, eagerly seeking for the rich foreigner, from whom they can get an extra fee, and whom they regard as outside of their code of morals, and hence as their natural prey. Travelers, and even residents of Japan, have often complained of such treatment; and it is only after long stay in Japan, among the Japanese themselves, that one can tell what a man is capable of.[*]
If you employ one for any length of time, you come to have a real affection for him on account of his loyal, faithful, cheerful service, such as we seldom find in this country except when inspired by personal feeling. When you have ridden miles and miles, by night and by day, through rain and sleet and hottest sunshine, behind a man who has used every power of body and mind in your service, you cannot but have a strong feeling of affection toward him, and of pride in him as well. It is something the feeling[323] that one has for a good saddle-horse, but more developed. You rejoice, not only in his strength and speed, put forth so willingly in your service; in his picturesque, dark blue costume with your monogram embroidered on the back; in his handsomely turned ankles; in his black, wavy hair; in his delicate hands and trim waist,—though these are often a source of pride to you,—but his skill in divining your wants; his use of his tongue in your service; his helping out of your faltering Japanese with explanations which, if not elegant, have the merit of being easily understood; his combats with extortionate shopkeepers in your behalf; his interest in all your doings and concerns,—remain as a pleasant memory, upon your return to a land where no man would so far forget his manhood as to give himself so completely and without reserve to the service of any master save Mammon.
As old Japan, with its quaintness, its mediæval flavor, its feudalism, its loyalty, its sense of honor, and its transcendental contempt for money and luxury, recedes into the past, and as the memories of my life there grow dim, two figures stand out[324] more and more boldly from the fading background,—both, the figures of faithful servants. One, Yasaku, the , a very Hercules, who could keep close to a pair of coach horses through miles of city streets, and who never suffered mortal man to pass him. My champion in all times of danger and alarm, but a very autocrat in all minor matters,—his cheery face, his broad shoulders with their blue draperies, his jolly, boyish voice, and his dainty, delicate hands come before me as I write, and I wonder to what fortunate person he is now giving the intelligent service that he once gave so whole-heartedly to me. The other, O Kaio, my maid, her plain little face, with its upturned eyes, growing, as the days went by, absolutely beautiful in the light of pure goodness that beamed from it. A Japanese Christian, with all the Christian virtues well developed, she became to me not only a good servant, doing her work with conscientious fidelity, but a sympathetic friend, to whom I turned for help in time of need; and whom I left, when I returned to America, with a sincere sorrow in my heart at parting with one who had grown to fill so large[325] a place in my thoughts. Her little, half-shy, half-motherly ways toward her big foreign mistress had a charm all their own. Her pride and delight over my progress in the language; her patient efforts to make me understand new words, or to understand my uncouth foreign idioms; her joy, when at last I reached the point where a story told by her lips could be comprehended and enjoyed,—gave a continual encouragement in a task too often completely disheartening.
During the last summer of my stay in Japan, cutting loose from all foreigners and foreign associations, I traveled alone with her through the heart of the country, stopping only at Japanese hotels, and carrying with me no supplies to eke out the simple Japanese fare. Through floods and typhoons we journeyed. Long days of scorching heat or driving rain in no way abated her cheerfulness, or lessened her desire to do all that she could for my aid and comfort. Not one sad look nor impatient word showed a flaw in her perfect temper; and if she privately made up her mind that I was crazy, she never by word or look gave a hint of her thought. [326] men grumbled and gave out; hotel-keepers resented the presence of my dog, or presented extortionate bills; but O Kaio’s good temper and tact never failed her. Difficulties were smoothed away; bills were compromised and reduced; the dog slept securely by my side on a red blanket in the best rooms of the best hotels; and O Kaio smiled, told her quaint stories, amused me and ministered to me, as if I were her one object in life, though husband and children were far away in distant Tōkyō, and her mother’s heart yearned for her little ones.
[327]CHAPTER XII.
WITHIN THE HOME. Into the life of a Japanese home enter many customs and observances that have not been dwelt upon in the preceding pages, but without some understanding of which our knowledge of the life of Japanese women is by no means complete. In Japan the woman’s place is so entirely in the home that all the ceremonies and superstitions that gather about the conduct of every-day affairs are more to her than they are to the freer and broader-minded man. The household worship, the yearly round of festivals, each with its special food to be prepared, the observances connected with birth and marriage and death; what is to be done in time of illness, of earthquake, of fire, or of the frequent flittings that render life in Japan one succession of packings and unpackings,—all [328]these are matters of high importance to the wife and mother, and their proper observance is left largely in her hands.
Every well-ordered Japanese home of the old-fashioned kind has its little shrine, which is the centre of the religious life of the house. If the household is of the Shintō faith, this shrine is called the , or god shelf, and contains the symbols of the gods, in vases, receptacles for food and drink, and a primitive lamp,—only a saucer of oil in which a bit of pith serves for a wick. Daily offerings must be made before this shrine, and reverence paid by the clapping of hands; while on feast days special offerings and invocations are required. In Buddhist families, the , or Buddha shelf, takes the place of the , and the worship is slightly more complicated. Greater variety of food is offered, and the simple clapping of the hands and bowing of the head that is the form of prayer in the Shintō religion is replaced by the burning of incense and by actual verbal invocation of Buddha. These religious ceremonies [329]must be attended to by the mother or wife. She it is who sets the rice and wine before the ancestral tablets, who lights the little lamp each night, and who sees that at each feast day and anniversary season the proper food is prepared and set out for the household gods.
Upon the wife, and her attention to minute and apparently trifling details, depends much of the well-being of the family. Each child, as it grows toward maturity, gathers from various sources a collection of amulets, which, while worn always when the child is in full dress, are frequently too precious for ordinary play times and the risks and perils of every-day life. These must be kept carefully by the mother as a safeguard against the many evils that beset child-life. I have spoken of the amulets given at the times of the ,—both the first, when the name is given to the baby, and the subsequent visits made to the temple by the children as they pass certain stated points in their progress toward maturity. These amulets are simply written papers or slips of[330] wood with the seal of the temple from which they are issued stamped upon them. Visits to noted temples by relatives and friends often result in additions to the child’s collection. One kind of charm is good to keep the eyes strong; another will help its possessor to that much-prized accomplishment, a good handwriting; another acts as an assurance against accident and saves the child from harm in case of a fall. All these are put together by the careful mother and preserved as jealously as Queen Althea kept the charred stick that governed the destiny of her son. As the children arrive at years of discretion, these treasures pass out of the mother’s faithful keeping into the hands of their actual owners, and they are usually kept stored away in some little-used drawer or cabinet until death removes the necessity for any further safeguards over life. Perhaps of all the curious things that go to make up these intimate personal belongings of a Japanese man or woman, there is none more curious than the small white parcel containing a portion of the umbilical cord,—saved at birth[331] and preserved until death that it may be buried with its possessor and furnish him the means of a new birth. These little paper packages, each marked with the name of the child to whom it belongs, are kept by the mother.
Upon the mother of the family rests very largely the determining of lucky and unlucky days for the beginning or transaction of different kinds of business. A fortune-teller is consulted for important things, such as removals or marriages, but in every-day life one cannot be running to a fortune-teller about everything; and yet there is bad luck lurking in the background that may baffle all our plans if we do not observe the proper times and seasons for our undertakings. Just as the Japanese calendar divides time into cycles of twelve years, each year named for a different animal, so also the days and hours are divided into twelves and bear the names of the same twelve animals,—the Chinese signs of the zodiac. These animals are as follows: the rat, the bull, the tiger, the hare, the dragon, the snake, the horse, the goat, the monkey, the[332] cock, the dog, and the boar. Each animal brings its own kind of good or bad luck into the hour, day, or year over which it presides, and only a skillful balancer of pros and cons can read aright the combinations, and understand what the luck of any particular hour in any particular day of any particular year will be. For instance, the rat, which is the companion of Daikoku, the money god, is a lucky animal so far as money is concerned. A person born in the year of the rat will never need money, and will be economical, possibly miserly; and in one born on the day of the rat in the year of the rat these chances and qualities will be doubled. But the luck of the rat may be very seriously interfered with by the bad luck of the monkey or of the proverbially unlucky dog, when their days and hours occur in the rat year. On the other hand, their bad luck may be counteracted by the good luck of the tiger or hare, for as a rule three animals of different portent are presiding over human prospects every hour. This makes prophecy a ticklish business, requiring a wise head, but it also leaves[333] much room for the subsequent explanation of failures by the superior and unusual influence of one or another of the animals, as the case may require. Momentous questions of this kind have frequently to be settled by the Japanese wife and mother, and she gains dignity and value in her home and neighborhood according to her skill in interpreting the portents of the day and hour.
For the greater events of family life the home prophecies are felt to be too uncertain, and the services of the fortune-teller must be called in. No well-managed family would think of building a new house without finding in what direction to face the front door. In an American city this necessity would cause considerable inconvenience, as the position of the front door is usually determined by the relation of the building-lot to the street; but in a Japanese city, where, in all but the business quarters, every house is concealed by a high board fence, and where the gate that admits one within the fence is the only sign by which any one in the street can judge of the worldly condition of the dwellers[334] within, the houses are faced about any and every way, and the position of each is determined by the good luck that it will bring its owner. After this matter has been settled and the house is fairly begun, there are occasional crises in its construction upon which much depends. Of these the most important is the day when the roof is raised. The roof timbers, which are unsquared logs, often rather crooked, after being carefully fitted and framed in some convenient vacant lot, are brought on carts to the site of the new building, and when all is ready, the head carpenter sends word to the house-owner that he is about to set the roof in place. The house-owner then decides whether the day set by the builder is a lucky one for himself and his family. If it is not, a delay in the building is always preferable to any danger of incurring the displeasure of the luck gods. This crisis safely passed, and the last of the roof beams secured in its place, the men take a holiday, and are feasted on and spaghetti by the house-owner. A present of money to each workman is also in order, and will[335] conduce to the rapid and faithful execution of the job in hand. When, at last, the house is finished, and carpenters and plasterers are ready to leave it, the local firemen, who have assisted all along in the building as unskilled laborers, often ascend to the roof, and from the ridge-pole cast down cakes, for which the children of the neighborhood scramble joyfully.
When the builders have left, and the house is ready for occupation, even to the soft, thick mats on the floor and the white paper windows, the family will move in on the first day thereafter that is both lucky and pleasant. So far as possible, everything in the old house will be packed and ready the day before, and very early in the morning the relatives and friends of the mover will begin to rally around him. All come who can, and those who cannot come send servants or provisions. Every tradesman or who has had or who hopes to have the patronage of the moving household sends a representative to help along the work, so that there is always a sufficient force to carry the household[336] belongings into the new home and settle them in place before the day is over. All these visiting helpers must be fed and provided with tea and cakes at proper intervals, and the presents of cooked food that pour in at such times are highly acceptable and of great practical usefulness. When the long day is ended and the visitors return one by one to their homes, it is the mistress of the house who must see that every servant and representative of a business firm receives, neatly done up in white paper, a present of money properly proportioned to his services, and the style and circumstances of the family he has been aiding. And when all are gone, the shutters closed, and the family left alone in their new home, the little wife must make a list of all who have helped in any way during the day, and to all, within a short time, make some acknowledgment of their kindness by either a call or a present. It is upon the wife, too, that the duty falls of sending to each of the near neighbors , a kind of macaroni, as an announcement of the family’s arrival. The number of neighbors to[337] whom this gift is sent is determined differently according to circumstances. If the house is one of several in a compound, will be sent to all within the gate; but if the compound is very large, so that the sending to all would be too great an expense, the five nearest houses will be selected to receive the gift, or all who draw water from the same well. A very late fashion in Tōkyō, but one that is gaining ground because of its convenience, is to send, not the macaroni itself, but an order on the nearest restaurant at which that delicacy is sold.
As I have already said, much of a woman’s time and thought must be given to the proper distribution of presents among friends and dependents. The subject of what to give, when to give, to whom to give, and how to do up the gift acceptably, is one the thorough understanding of which requires the study of years. No foreigner can hope to do more than dabble in the shallows of it. Presents seem to be used more for the purpose of keeping those persons whose services you may need, or whose enmity you dread, under a sense of obligation,[338] than they are as expressions of sentiment. Every housekeeper, for instance, must need the occasional services of a carpenter or a gardener, and in a large city like Tōkyō the chances are that she will some day need, and need very badly, the services of a fireman. A wise woman—one who is not penny wise and pound foolish—will by timely presents keep herself constantly in the minds of such persons, so that when she sends for them, they may feel under sufficient obligation to her to come at once. So will her house be quickly put in repair after earthquake or other accident; her garden show for only the briefest interval the ravages of the typhoon which has gullied out her lawn and leveled her choicest trees; and when some night “the flower of Yedo” blooms suddenly by her side, she will have the speedy assistance of the firemen, who will seal her storehouse securely with clay, wet her roof and walls thoroughly with water, and light at her gates the great alarm lanterns to tell her friends that her house is in danger and summon them to her assistance. No friend can disregard such a[339] signal, but all will rally round her once more to help in this less orderly and cheerful moving,—will pack and cord and carry out her goods, and if at last the fire consumes her dwelling, will gather her household and belongings into their hospitable homes. But the foolish woman, who neglects or forgets her dependents when she does not need them, finds some day that her roof is leaking, but all the carpenters are too busy to mend it, her garden is destroyed because the gardener had an important engagement elsewhere just when she needed him, and her property is burned up or ruined by water and smoke because the firemen attended to her house last when the fire swept over her compound.
When death enters a house in Japan, there are no undertakers to relieve the family of the painful duty of caring for the dead body and placing it in the coffin. There are coffin-makers and funeral managers who supply the great white bier and lanterns and the bunches of paper flowers that adorn every funeral procession, but within the house the preparations [340]are all made by the family and friends, and the heaviest and most painful part of the work falls, as usual, on the women of the family. As soon as the breath finally leaves the body, it is wrapped in a quilt, laid with its head to the north, and an inverted screen placed around it. On one corner of the screen is hung a sword or knife to keep off any evil spirit that may wander into the room in the shape of a cat and disturb the dead.
Etiquette requires that relatives and intimate friends of the family call immediately on learning of the death. To receive these calls the mourners, in full ceremonial dress, must sit in the death chamber and remove for each guest the covering from the face of the dead. The visitors then offer the ceremonial bows to the corpse, as if it were alive. During this time, too, presents to the spirit of the dead are pouring in. The proper offerings are flowers, cake, vegetables, candles, incense, or small gifts of money for the purchase of incense. If the deceased is a person of rank or distinction, the house is flooded with cumbersome[341] and useless offerings. This custom has become so great an addition to the trials necessarily incident to a bereavement that one occasionally sees in the newspaper announcements of deaths a request that no offerings to the dead be sent.
On the day after the death, often in the evening, the body must be placed in the cask-shaped coffin that until recently was the style commonly in use in Japan. Now, among the wealthier classes, the long coffin has superseded the small square or round one, but the smaller expense connected with burial in the old way makes the survival of the old type a necessity for the majority of Japanese. At an appointed time all the relatives assemble in the death chamber, and preparations are made for the bathing of the corpse. Two of the , or floor mats, are turned over, and upon them are placed a new tub, a new pail, and a new dipper. These utensils must have no metal of any kind about them. In the washing of the body none but members of the family must assist, and respect for the dead absolutely requires[342] that all the relatives of the deceased who are below him in rank must have a hand in these final ablutions. In Japan, the mourning for the dead is the duty of inferiors, never of superiors. There is no official, ceremonial mourning of parents for their children, nor does custom require them to perform any of the last rites, or attend the funeral. Upon the younger brothers and sisters falls the duty of attending to all the last sad ministrations. If the wife dies, her husband does not mourn for her, though her children do; but if the husband dies, the wife must mourn the rest of her life, cutting off her hair and placing it in the coffin as a sign of her perpetual faithfulness.
When the body has been washed, it is dressed in white, in silk whenever the family can afford it. The dress, which must be appropriate to the season, in the making of which all the women of the family must assist, is the plain, straight kimono, but must be folded from right to left, instead of from left to right as in life. The body, to be placed in the coffin, must be folded into a sitting [343]posture, the chin resting upon the knees,—the position of the mummies found in many aboriginal American tombs. This difficult, to us apparently impossible feat, safely accomplished, there are placed in the coffin a number of small things that the dead takes with him to the next world. Some of these have been already mentioned, the others are little keepsakes, or perhaps tokens of the tastes and employments of the dead,—dice, cards, bottles, the image of a horse, toy weapons,—anything, provided only that it be not of metal, may be used for this purpose. The single exception to this rule about metal is that small copper coins may be put in, to fee the old hag who guards the bank of the river of death. Last of all, the vacant spaces in the coffin are filled in with bags of tea. Then the coffin is closed and nailed up, wrapped with a white silk cloth fastened with a white silk or cotton cord, and placed on a high stand, and food and incense are placed before it.
So long as the coffin is in the house, it must be watched over continually. To aid in this protracted vigil, which must[344] be kept up day and night until the burial, the relatives, friends, and retainers of the dead assemble at the house in large numbers. In the case of a person of wealth and influence, there will often be a hundred or more of these watchers, who must be fed and cared for; and who take turns in watching, eating, and sleeping. It is their duty to see that the incense burning before the coffin is never allowed to go out, while the food for the dead is renewed at regular intervals by the mourners themselves.
This somewhat detailed description of the duties to be performed by the members of a bereaved family in the house of mourning is sufficient to show that the presence of death in the home is made as terrible as possible by the painful ceremonies, the continual bustle and excitement, and the strain upon the resources and executive ability of the housekeeper and her assistants. There are few enlightened Japanese who will defend the present system of cruelty to the afflicted, or who do not long for some change, but so great is the force of conservatism in this regard, so haunting the fear that[345] any change may indicate a lack of respect for the dead, that reform advances slowly.
Individual instances occur in which some of the worst features of these customs are modified. A case in point is that of the late Mr. Fukuzawa, a man whose life was devoted to the advancement of his countrymen in modern ways, and who in his death continued his teaching. In his will he provided that his body was to be buried, without washing, in the clothing in which he died. This provision would seem in most countries to be mere eccentricity, but when one has seen or heard of the gruesome ceremony that follows immediately after death, and the burden of which falls, not on the old and hardened, but on the young and tender, suffering, in many cases, under the weight of a first and crushing affliction, one can see that only through such means as this can the burden ever be lifted from the shoulders of those who mourn. There are young and enlightened mothers in Japan to-day who have felt, in minds awakened to thought and action, the horrors of the[346] system, and who will not allow their children to suffer for them what they have suffered in paying respect to their dead parents. Through this growing feeling and the unselfishness of maternal affection may come in time the release from these mournful ceremonies.
While the body remains in the house, a priest comes from time to time to offer prayers, longer or shorter according to the wealth of the family employing him; and when the funeral cortège sets out on its way to the cemetery, the priests in their professional robes form an imposing part of the spectacle. The day of the burial is selected with due respect to the calendar, for, though there may be little good luck about a funeral, there is a chance of extremely bad luck growing out of it unless every precaution is taken. Just before the procession starts, a religious ceremony is held at the house, which is attended by the friends of the deceased, and which is substantially the same as that performed at the cemetery. On the day of the burial, great bunches of natural flowers are sent to the dead, each bunch so large as to[347] require the services of one man to carry it. Sometimes with the gift a man is sent to take part in the procession, but if the giver feels too poor to hire a man, this burden, too, falls upon the bereaved household, for etiquette requires that all flowers sent be borne to the grave by uniformed coolies, who march in the funeral train. Another favorite present at this time, among Buddhists, is a cage of living birds, to be borne to the grave and released thereon. This act of mercy is counted to the deceased for righteousness, and is believed to aid in rendering his next incarnation a happy one.
A funeral procession is an imposing spectacle, and, to the uninstructed foreigner, a cheerful one; for there is nothing sad or sombre in the white, or bright-colored, robes of the priests, the white, tinsel-decorated bier, the red and white flags borne aloft, the enormous bunches of gay-colored flowers;—the very mourners in white silk, and with faces apparently unmoved by grief, bring no thought of the object of the procession to the Western mind. It seems more like a bridal than a burial. But if you[348] follow the cortège to the cemetery and there listen to the wailing of the wind instruments, and the droning of the priests as they perform the last rites, and watch the silent company that one by one go forward to bow before the coffin and place upon it a branch of or burn a bit of incense, the trappings of woe in Japan will impress themselves strongly upon your mind, and the gayly appareled funeral processions will seem to you ever afterward as mournful and hopeless a spectacle as you can find in any country.
The house of death remains a place of mourning for forty-nine days after the funeral. During this period the spirit of the deceased is supposed to be still inhabiting the house, and a tablet or shrine is set up in the death chamber before which food and flowers are renewed daily. Visitors are expected to make obeisance to the dead. At the end of this time, some acknowledgment must be sent to every friend who has sent anything to the house at the funeral. For a time after death has come into the family the relatives of the dead are regarded[349] as ceremonially unclean. The period of defilement varies with the nearness of relationship. In the old days, no one thus defiled was allowed to go about his regular business or to mingle with other men; but busy modern Japan does not find it convenient to pause long in its work, so that government officials and school-children are now sent written papers excusing them for coming back to their tasks even while ceremonially unclean. Thus the old custom is passing away. In the first year after death, certain days are observed with special honors before the memorial tablet, and later, certain anniversaries of the death must be kept, until, at last, at the end of fifty or one hundred years, the personality of the spirit seems to become merged with that of the other ancestral spirits, and no offerings are made to it except at the general feasts of the dead.
With the coming in of the last month of the year begin the preparations for the great New Year’s festival, and the housekeeper finds herself occupied through every moment of the brief days. A woman who is at the head of a large[350] household has upon her hands in the month of December spring house-cleaning and preparations for Christmas, New Year’s, Thanksgiving, and Easter, all at once. The work of getting the family wardrobe ready for the festival must begin very early in the month, for every man, woman, and child in the household must be provided with new clothes, and the thrifty housewife sends no sewing out. In the old days, it was ordained that the eighth day of the twelfth month should be a needle festival,—a day on which all women rest from their sewing and amuse themselves by indulging their own fancies instead of their husbands’, as is their duty on other days. This day was supposed to mark the dividing line between the old year’s and the new year’s sewing, but, as a matter of fact, the forehanded woman will finish up the old and begin the new even earlier in the month, so as to have this part of her work well out of the way before the house-cleaning, which should be begun not later than the fifteenth.
This house-cleaning, even with the small amount of furniture found in a[351] Japanese house, is an elaborate affair. Every box and closet and rubbish-hole in the house is turned out and put in order, the are taken up and brushed and beaten, the woodwork from ceiling to floor is carefully washed, the plaster and paper walls flicked with the paper flapper that takes the place in Japan of our feather duster. All the quilts and clothing must be sunned and aired, the kakémonos and curios belonging to the family unpacked, carefully dusted, and put back into their wrappings and boxes, and the house and garden put into perfect repair. This work, if thoroughly done, takes about a week. When all is finished, even to the final purification by beating everything in the house with a fresh bamboo, games and festivities and are in order. In the old daimiō houses, where great numbers of men and women were employed, and where the women’s quarters were in a distinct part of the house, it was considered a great joke to catch a man on the women’s side any time between the close of the cleaning and the beginning of the new year. The intruder was[352] promptly seized and shouldered by the women, who carried him about the house in triumph, finally returning him to his own quarters. If, by any chance, they could catch the chief steward, they sang as they carried him about:— “This is the great pillar of the house!
May he be happy till the stone foundations rot!”
The week following the house-cleaning is devoted to the preparation of food for the festival. Of this, the most characteristic is , a sort of dumpling made of rice steamed and pounded, the preparation of which is so difficult and protracted a process that it is not lightly undertaken. It is so distinctively the festival food of Japan that if you find in a friend’s house at any time except the new year, you immediately ask what has happened, and are pretty sure to be told that it is a present received in celebration of a birth or a marriage, or some other domestic festival. It is, to Japanese children, what turkey and cranberry sauce are to American children, not only a delight to the palate, but a dish the[353] very smell of which brings back the most cheerful occasions in the year.
When the is made and set away to await the festal day, the matter of decoration must be attended to. At every gate is erected some token of the season, if it be only a bit of pine stuck into the ground, or a wisp of straw rope decorated with white paper . The great black gates that indicate the homes of the wealthier classes are almost concealed by structures of pine and bamboo, on which oranges, lobsters, straw rope, straw fringe, white paper, and images of the good luck gods are used as decorations. All these things are either efficacious in keeping off evil spirits, or are symbols of good luck. Within the house, in the , or place of honor, in the best room, great cakes of , two, three, five, or seven in number, are set one upon another in a dish covered with fern leaves, and the structure surrounded by seaweed.
Before the new year comes in the capable housewife will have sent out presents to every one who has during the[354] year been of service to her husband, her children, or herself in any way. Her own servants will be remembered with gifts of clothing, something will be sent to the servants of friends at whose houses any of the family have visited often, and every dependent, poor relation, employee, and employee’s child must be given a present, large or small, according to the amount of obligation felt by the giver. To persons of greater wealth and importance, to whom the family are grateful for past favors or from whom they are hoping for something in the future, gifts, often quite out of proportion to the resources of the givers, are sent,—a method of investing capital that is a little risky, though it sometimes yields prompt and bountiful returns. On the other hand, all the merchants and marketmen who supply the house send presents to the mistress and frequently to the head servants as well, and (bundle handkerchiefs), cooking utensils, packages of sugar, boxes of eggs, dried fish, etc., flow in at the kitchen; while crêpe, silk, cotton cloth, money, toys, curios, and other valuables [355]flow out of the parlor. All this present-giving is a severe tax upon the strength and resources of the housekeeper, and adds heavily to the burden that the last month of the year imposes upon her.
By the twenty-fifth or twenty-sixth of the month the trades-people begin to send in their bills, for every man expects to square up all his accounts by the last night of the old year, and early payments are expected and made, so that all may begin the new year out of debt. So universal is this custom that the man who finds at the eleventh hour that he cannot clear off all his debts is likely to offer his property at a heavy sacrifice in order to secure the necessary cash. For any one with ready money extraordinary bargains are to be met with in Japanese shops during the last week of the year. In case this resource fails, suicide is still a short and honorable way out of a world that has become too difficult to live in.
The Japanese housewife must feel, when December has been successfully passed, like the Yankee who had noticed[356] that if he lived through the month of March he generally lived through the rest of the year. The observances of January, for which December has been one long preparation, begin with the rising of the New Year’s sun, and continue in one form or another for about two weeks. Almost every day has its special food and its special festival duty. For the first three days the very best clothes in the wardrobe are worn by everybody, then till the seventh the second best, and from the seventh to the end of the month new clothes, though not the very best, must be worn. Within the first seven days every man in Japan is expected to call on all his friends and acquaintances, but the women, probably out of consideration for the many duties that the festival season puts upon them, are given until March to finish up their New Year’s calls.
The streets of the cities, and even of the small villages, are full of life and interest for a week or two. in their new winter liveries trundle around fathers and mothers and happy children. All manner of mummers, musicians, [357]and dancers go from house to house in search of custom. The , who, with dances and songs and strange grimaces, undertake to drive out from your house for the new year all the devils who may have been residing there hitherto, are a special feature of this season. In every garden and in the public streets little girls, their faces freshly covered with white paint, their shining black hair newly dressed, their wing-sleeved kimonos gorgeous with many colors, play battledore and shuttlecock, toss small bags half filled with rice, or pat balls wound with shining silk to the accompaniment of a weird little chant. For the boys there are kites of many shapes and colors, or tops that they spin under every one’s feet, well knowing that no one in Japan is too busy to turn aside for a child’s pleasure. The very horses—small, shock-headed, evil-tempered beasts, who drag tremendous loads with many snorts and snaps at their masters—are decked out with gay streamers that reach nearly to the ground, at the ends of which are tinkling bells. The festival season closes on the fifteenth[358] and sixteenth with a visit to the temple of Yemma, the god of hell, and with a holiday for all the apprentices.
Next to the New Year’s holiday, perhaps the most important festival of the Japanese year is , the Feast of the Dead. This is, in its present form, a Buddhist institution, but in spirit it fitted so exactly into the ancient Japanese ideas of the tastes and habits of departed spirits that it merely supplanted the old Shintō feasts of the dead, and it is a little difficult to-day to determine whether its observance is more Buddhist or Shintō in its character. To find the O Bon ceremonies in their most perfect form, it is necessary now to go into the more remote country villages, for though, even in Tōkyō, this feast is still one of the most important in the whole year, it seems to be more distinctly itself in a small village, where all the old forms are still kept up.
In Tōkyō, the three days’ festival is kept by the new calendar, and occurs on the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth of July. At O Bon, as at New Year’s time, it is customary to square off all[359] obligations by a general giving of presents. This, while not quite as important a matter as at the beginning of the year, is still a severe tax upon the time, purse, and memory of the wife and mother in any large family. At this time, too, as at New Year’s, or some other festival dish must be provided, but at this point the resemblance between the two occasions ceases. In accordance with its character as a feast of departed spirits, the observance of O Bon is distinctively religious. On the twelfth, the family go to the graveyard and clean and put in order the graves and tombstones, so that the returning spirits may find all properly cared for. Fresh water and flowers are placed before each stone, and sometimes rice and fresh vegetables. At home, the ancestral tablets in the form the centre of the ceremonies. Before the shrine are placed, on the thirteenth, offerings of food of any kind that can be made without fish or meat. Great balls of , , flowers, and choice new varieties of vegetables are appropriate offerings. All are tastefully arranged, the lamps are carefully lighted[360] every night, and special services are held before the shrine. For the three days of the feast, the souls of the dead are believed to be visiting their old haunts, and to need light and food and all the conveniences that their descendants can spare them. Each house is decorated with lanterns, that the spirits may be able to find their way. It is from this custom that the feast is often called by foreigners the Feast of Lanterns.
As I have already said, in Tōkyō and other modernized places, this feast is not seen at its best. Only the soft glow of the lanterns swinging from every house, and the decorations in the graveyards and at the household shrines, indicate to the traveler that anything unusual is going on. But in the country regions it is quite another matter, and the welcoming, entertainment, and proper dismissal of the visiting spirits form the entire business of the community for three days. Usually the middle of August is the time for the country celebration. On the twelfth, bands of children carrying red lanterns march singing through the village on their way to the graveyard,[361] where the annual cleaning is taking place. That night bonfires in the cemetery and before the houses light the pathway of the wanderers. Then for three nights all the young people of the village gather in the temple court in grotesque disguises and with towels over their faces, and dance all night long in the moonlight, to primitive music produced by a drum and the monotonous chant of the dancers themselves. These three dance-nights are the great occasion of the year to the young peasants, for this is the only time when persons of both sexes meet together in a social way, and it is long looked forward to and enjoyed intensely. Of late years, the government, fearing the abuses that grow out of this exceptional social event, has endeavored to suppress the dancing, but it continues in full vigor throughout most of rural Japan, though conducted with more decorum than formerly on account of the standing dread of police interference. The object of the dance is to amuse the spirits of the ancestors, who must be imagined as hovering in the background, viewing with approval the antics of their descendants.
[362]
Other amusements are going on in the village on the O Bon evenings. At a summer resort every hotel-keeper will have a professional story-teller, a company of musicians, or some other entertainment to which the guests of the hotel are invited, and at which as many of the villagers as can crowd to the open house fronts stare until the dance drum in the temple court draws their feet in that direction. And then, on the last night of the feast, bonfires are once more kindled at every house, so that the spirits may find their way safely back to the land whence they came, and not stay to haunt their descendants at improper seasons.
No account of life in a Japanese home would be complete without a little space devoted to the special delights of the small boy. Although this book deals mainly with feminine concerns, the small boy in Japan, as in America, is the life and fun of the home, and one cannot fail to notice his times of surpassing enjoyment. He rules the house and his mother and his grandmother and his sisters, at all times, and his activity and enterprise secure for him a good share in[363] any fun that is going on; but there are certain seasons that appeal to the boyish heart with a special message and of which he is the central figure.
As the Feast of Dolls is to the girls, so is the Feast of Flags to the boys,—their own special day, set apart for them out of the whole year. It comes on the fifth day of the fifth month (now May fifth), and for long before its arrival the shops are gay with all manner of tempting toys, while in every yard rises a great bamboo pole, from which, when the time comes, will float an enormous carp, its body inflated by the strong spring wind, its great mouth wide open, and its eyes glaring hideously, as it fights its way against the air currents. Sometimes there will be half a dozen such poles in one yard,—signs either that the household is blessed with many boys, or that the way to its heart is through gifts of toys to its son and heir. When the great day at last arrives, the feast within the home is conducted in much the same way as the Feast of Dolls. There are the same red-covered shelves, the same offerings of food and drink; but instead of the placid[364] images of the Emperor and Empress and the five court musicians, the household furnishings and toilet articles, there are effigies of the heroes of history and folklore: Jingo, the warrior Empress; Takenouchi, her white-haired prime minister, holding in his arms her son, the infant war-god; Benkei, the giant retainer of Yoshitsune; Yoshitsune himself, the marvelous fencer and general; Kintaro, the fat, hairy, red boy, who was born and grew up in the mountains, and even in his babyhood fought with bears; Shoki Sama, the strong man who could conquer ;—these are some of the characters to be found on the shelves at the boys’ feast. Behind each figure stands a flag with the crest of the hero that it represents, and before them are set all manner of weapons in miniature. The food offered is wrapped in oak leaves, because the oak is among trees what the carp is among fishes, the emblem of strength and endurance. The flower of this day is the iris or flag, because of its sword-shaped leaves,—hence the name, , feast of iris or flag.
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Another feast, which, while not founded for the boys, seems to have been adopted by them as a great occasion, is what is known as Buddha’s birthday, celebrated on April eighth. On this day in every Buddhist temple a temporary platform is erected, the roof of which is covered with flowers. Upon this platform, in a great tub filled with licorice tea, is set a small image of the infant Buddha. Hither flock the small boys with bamboo dippers, and spend the day ladling up the tea and pouring it over the image, and then ladling it out into small bamboo buckets. This licorice tea, through contact with the image, acquires miraculous healing properties, and the devout, after making offerings of money twisted up in white paper, carry away the little buckets. The tea is good for the eyes and the throat, and if some of it be used in mixing ink, and then, with the ink thus mixed, a charm be written and placed about the house, it will keep away all vermin. It is not easy to see exactly what the fascination of this feast is to the boys, but I am told that many of them like it even better[366] than their own specially appointed day.
But of all the delights that come into the year, there is nothing to compare for joyous excitement with the great of the parish temple. For at least a week beforehand there are enough interesting things going on in every house and shop along the street to keep every small boy in the parish agog from morning till night. Here are lanterns being made with the of the gods on one side and the rising sun of the Japanese flag on the other. There a dancing platform is being erected, and at every stage of its development it is swarming with active youngsters, who shin up its poles, turn somersaults on the platform, and sit in rows on its edge, with bare legs swinging high over the heads of the passers-by; and when it is done, and the drums installed, they take turns all day and far into the night in keeping them going. Then, too, there are the , or floats, on one of which each street in the parish spends its money and its ingenuity. How the boys haunt the shops in which they are being made! How they watch the wondrous changes of paper[367] into flowers, and of bamboo and cotton cloth into sea waves, or castle walls, or monsters of earth or sea or air! How they chatter and wriggle and push and squirm for front places, when at last the great cars are built up in the open street, the marvelous edifices erected upon them, and at the top of all the heroic figures of well-known mythological or historical characters rise majestic in flowing robes! Then, when the black bullocks, resplendent in collars and halters of red rope, are yoked to the triumphal car, and the structure moves slowly down the shouting street, how the boys crawl into every joint and cranny of the , how they hang from every beam, how they yell from before and behind in sheer abandon of joy! And at last, when the procession forms, and with fantastically garbed men marching in front and wild-eyed singers yelling just behind them, with dancing-girls on moving platforms and jugglers and tumblers on the themselves, the twenty or more festal cars move, with frequent stops, down to the temple, to escort the sacred symbols on their annual pilgrimage[368] through the parish, who so noisy or so ubiquitous as these same bullet-headed, blue-gowned boys? They bob up at every turn, ooze out at every pore of the procession, and enjoy, as only boys can enjoy, the noise and confusion, the barbaric splendor, the dancing and tumbling, the mumming and drumming, the excruciating howls of the singers, the jingling of the marshals’ iron-ringed staves, the clapping of the great wooden clappers that time the movement and the stops of the pageant.
Better than all, perhaps, is the evening, when the streets, lighted by many lanterns, are filled with throngs of holiday-makers,—now stopping to stare in at some shop where the devout worshiper has established a beautiful shrine, has set out and other offerings before some image, or has arranged a landscape garden in a box, or constructed a procession just entering the court of a miniature temple; now haggling with the ever-present booth-keepers for lanterns or cakes or hairpins to take back to the friends left at home. Suddenly there is a joyous, rhythmic[369] shout of many excited boyish voices, there is a gleaming of square red lanterns, a whirl and a rush through the crowd. Now is the time to get out of the way, for the boys move quickly and are too excited to turn aside for anything. On they come at a sharp trot, each little round head bound about with a fillet of blue and white toweling, each lithe, active body more or less covered by a blue and white gown, all shouting in unison and bearing on their shoulders a miniature , made most often of a tub mounted on a frame, and decorated with lanterns and white paper. They charge through the crowd, which makes way quickly at their approach, until the pace, the weight of their burden, and the frantic shouting exhaust their breath. Then they plunge down a side street, rest for a few moments, gather themselves together, and charge once more into the crowd. There must be some pretty tired little boys in the parish when the fun is all over, for these performances are kept up far into the night; but for absolute and perfect enjoyment there is nothing I have yet seen that seems to me to compare [370]with the enjoyment that a Japanese boy gets out of a . It is worth being tired for!
There is no space in this work for a more detailed picture of life in a Japanese home. Enough has been said in this chapter to show that it is made up of many little things,—of cares and sorrows and pleasures,—just as is life in any American home, and it is the little things we care about that make the oneness of the family, and the nation, and the oneness, too, of humanity, if we can only understand one another.
[371]CHAPTER XIII.
TEN YEARS OF PROGRESS. The woman question in Japan is at the present moment a matter of much consideration. There seems to be an uneasy feeling in the minds of even the more conservative men that some change in the status of woman is inevitable, if the nation wishes to keep the pace it has set for itself. The Japanese women of the past and of the present are exactly suited to the position accorded them in society, and any attempt to alter them without changing their status only results in making square pegs for round holes. If the pegs hereafter are to be cut square, the holes must be enlarged and squared to fit them. The Japanese woman stands in no need of alteration unless her place in life is somehow enlarged, nor, on the other hand, can she fill a larger place without additional[372] training. The men of New Japan, to whom the opinions and customs of the Western world are becoming daily more familiar, while they shrink aghast, in many cases, at the thought that their women may ever become like the forward, self-assertive, half-masculine women of the West, show a growing tendency to dissatisfaction with the smallness and narrowness of the lives of their wives and daughters,—a growing belief that better educated women would make better homes, and that the ideal home of Europe and America is the product of a more advanced civilization than that of Japan. Reluctantly in many cases, but still almost universally, it is admitted that in the interest of the homes and for the sake of future generations, something must be done to carry the women forward into a position more in harmony with what the nation is reaching for in other directions. This desire shows itself in individual efforts to improve by more advanced education daughters of exceptional promise, and in general efforts for the improvement of the condition of women. Well-to-do[373] fathers are willing to spend more money on the education of their daughters, to send them abroad, if possible, to complete their studies, or to postpone the time of marriage so that plans for higher education may be carried through. Where, ten years ago, the number of women who had been abroad for study might be counted on the fingers of one hand, there are now three or four times that number in Tōkyō alone. Another sign of the times is the fact that husbands going abroad on business or for pleasure are more inclined to take their wives with them, even if it be only for a few months. There are now to be found, in all the larger cities, women who have spent a longer or shorter time in some foreign country, whose minds have been opened and whose horizons have been enlarged by contact with new ideas. All this cannot fail to have its effect, sooner or later, upon the country at large.
The efforts for the improvement of women in general may be grouped into four classes: by legislation, by education, through the press, and by means of societies for mutual improvement.
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Of the recent legislation concerning marriage and divorce and its effect on the family, I have spoken in a preceding chapter. The latest statistics show that, while before the new laws were enacted divorces were one to every three marriages, they have now been reduced to one in five. It must be said, however, that the law is still somewhat in advance of public opinion. While the chance of permanence in marriage is better now than it was before the new code came into force, custom is still stronger than the law, and marriage is too often a temporary arrangement. In many cases the wife knows little or nothing of her new rights, and even when she does know, she has seldom the self-assertion to make a stand for them, but meekly submits to the dictates of those whom she is bound by custom, if not by law, to respect and obey without question. But the fact that the laws have actually been improved means, in a country like Japan, in which the government is the moulder of public opinion, that the custom will some day conform to the law.
In the matter of property owning,[375] women, under the new code, are fairly independent. As I have already stated, every woman in Japan is expected to become a wife, and as a matter of fact, the number of unmarried women is so small that it is hardly necessary to mention them. Wives, under Japanese law, are divided into two classes: the wife who enters her husband’s family, and the wife whose husband becomes a member of her family. In the latter case the wife is the head of the family, is responsible for the debts of the family, and has the right to use and profit by the husband’s property. In the former case (and as I have already stated, the great majority of wives enter their husband’s families), the husband is responsible, and has, consequently, the right to use and profit by his wife’s property. In all cases, unless the husband is physically or mentally unfit, he has the management of his wife’s wealth. In case of the husband’s disability the woman takes care of her own. A wife may, by application to a court, cause the husband to furnish security for the property that she has intrusted to him; and she may, with her husband’s[376] consent, engage in independent business. The property that she thus acquires is her own and not the husband’s. Any property in the family, the ownership of which is not perfectly established, belongs to the head of the family, whether male or female. We thus see that the law of Japan fully recognizes the right of married women to hold property, although only in exceptional cases are they allowed the management of their own holdings. The law also regards the wife, in household matters, as her husband’s agent.
In actual practice, it is not uncommon for the wife to manage the entire income of the family, receiving it from her husband and acting as his treasurer. The wife’s own earnings are seldom given to the husband, and her position is one of entire independence in the disposal of whatever she adds to the family revenue. But should the wife bring into the family at marriage property which passes into the husband’s management, the chances are that, unless a divorce should occur, she will never lay any claim to the principal, or think of it[377] again as her own. While her husband cannot actually dispose of it without her consent, she is pretty certain to give her consent should he ask it, and he may do very nearly anything that he chooses with it. We thus see that the tendency is to give the management of the income, as a part of the management of the household, to the woman, and leave the disposal of the principal, as a part of the outside business, to the care of the man. This system of domestic finance seems not unlike the common practice in thrifty and well-managed homes in America, and shows that a spirit of mutual confidence between husband and wife belongs to Japan as to Western nations. As the result of my own observation in a number of homes, I should say that the judgment of the wife in money matters is quite as much trusted in Japan as in America, and that, in this one respect at least, her place in the home is as responsible a one as that of the Western housekeeper. One instance may be cited of a woman whose business ability is so well known as to have a national reputation. [378]By birth a member of a family which is remarkable for its success in all financial undertakings, she has inherited a large share of the family characteristic, and is credited with the personal management of a large bank, as well as other successful business undertakings. Her husband’s name and not her own appears on the prospectuses and in the newspapers, but unless report is very far astray, she is the business man of the family, and her sound sense and good judgment have built up the fortune which is their common possession.
In the educational system of Japan, schools for girls are provided by the government, but no provision for studies more advanced than those of the middle schools for boys is included in the scheme, with the single exception of the Higher Normal School in Tōkyō, in which a limited number of young women are trained to take positions as teachers in the ordinary normal schools for girls. To quote from the Annual Report of the Minister of Education for the year 1898, the latest to which I have access,[379] “Higher female schools are institutions designed to give instruction in such higher subjects of general education as are necessary for females.” This shows with considerable completeness the idea that dominates all government and much private effort for the education of women in Japan. The schools are to teach simply such subjects as are necessary for females; anything more would be superfluous, possibly dangerous. The thought of women as individuals, with minds and souls to be trained and developed to their highest possibilities, is still somewhat foreign to the mind of the average Japanese man. In its stead is the idea that females must be instructed in such subjects as are necessary for a proper understanding of their duties as wives and mothers. But if Japan to-day is where England and America were in the first half of the nineteenth century, the country is certainly moving forward, as the statistics in regard to education for the three successive years 1896, 1897, and 1898 show. Great efforts are being made to increase the attendance [380]of girls at the common schools, and with gratifying results.[43]
As we advance into the higher schools, the discrepancy in numbers between the two sexes grows greater. In the kindergartens the attendance of girls is nearly equal to that of boys; in the elementary schools there are three boys to two girls; in the higher elementary schools, seven boys to two girls. The boys’ middle schools, which are equivalent in grade to the girls’ high schools, have fourteen boys taking their courses to every two girls in the high schools. In the apprentice and technical schools, there are fifteen men to every two women. Even the normal schools, which in our own country are almost given over to women, in[381] Japan have six male students to every female. The “special schools,” mainly professional, have, to 11,069 men, 73 women, all enrolled in private schools, and presumably taking medical courses. Beyond this point women have no opportunities offered to them. In the higher schools, equivalent to the college and graduate courses given by universities in America, 7,224 young men are given opportunities that women must go abroad to obtain.
These figures are, as I have said, for the year 1898. The year 1901 sees two hopeful movements well begun. One of these is the opening of an institution bearing the title of “Female University,” endowed and supported by Japanese, through the strenuous efforts of Mr. Jinzo Naruse, a prominent Christian who has spent some time in America. At its opening, five hundred girls were glad to enter, but of these very few are ready for college work. Mr. Naruse, however, believes that in time he will be able to enlarge his college department and diminish the preparatory, which is now almost the whole of the school. He has the[382] support and encouragement of many wealthy and influential Japanese, among them Count Okuma, the well-known progressive statesman. On the day of the opening of the school, Count Okuma, in a speech from the platform, said that the nation would be twice as strong if its women were well educated. This he called “setting up a double standard.” He pointed out that Turkey, Egypt, Persia, and China were countries which had tried to get along with a “single standard,” and which had fallen conspicuously behind. He called attention to the fact that Japan’s primitive religion had for its central figure the Goddess of Light, but that, unfortunately for the well-being of the state, woman had been gradually dethroned and thrust down into a low place. After speaking of the debt that Japan owed to China for the civilization and the ethical system that had stood her so long in good stead, the veteran statesman went on to say that society in Japan was disfigured by abuses which were beyond any simple remedy. The only effective medicine was to be found in a radical reform of the[383] ideals of family life, and this could only be effected by an improvement in the status of woman,—an improvement which such institutions as the one that day opened would greatly aid in bringing about.
These words from one of the most honored leaders of Japanese thought voice the feeling that is prevalent throughout Japan in this thirty-fourth year of Méiji. That it is actually moving both government and people is shown by the words of Mr. Kikuchi, Minister of Education, to the Council of Provincial Governors held in Tōkyō in June, 1901. In speaking of the progress of education throughout the country, he stated his intention to push forward the work of secondary education for girls, saying that a prefecture which refused to make provision for such education by 1903 might be compelled to do so by the government.
The other hopeful educational effort to which I have alluded is a school started on a small scale, but with a high standard, by a Japanese woman whose name is almost as well known in America as in Japan, as an educator of great ability[384] and earnestness of purpose. After many years of work as a teacher in the Peeresses’ School, a place of great honor from the Japanese standpoint, she has resigned her position to carry out a long-cherished plan. With the pecuniary aid of friends in America, she has founded a school for the preparation of young women who have finished the courses heretofore open to them, and who wish to become teachers of English in the Government schools. The examinations for such positions have always been open to women, but, because of the difficulty in securing proper preparation, there are few who pass them. Since its opening in September, 1900, the school has been crowded with promising pupils, and the small accommodations with which it began, although already once enlarged, are stretched to the uttermost. The girls come from the government high schools and from the mission schools, and the course offered to them of three years of study in English literature, composition, translation, and methods of teaching has proved a strong attraction. In recognition, perhaps, of this effort on behalf of[385] her countrywomen, certainly, of her position at the head of her profession, this same woman has this year been appointed on the examining committee for the government English examinations, an honor never before given to one of her sex,—in itself a sign of the change in thought that the last few years have wrought.
There can be no doubt that the education of women is moving forward, pushed by the leading men of the country and aided by the earnest work of the women themselves. It is still far behind the education offered to men, and the ideal of most of its promoters is limited to the purely utilitarian; but as long as it moves forward and not backward, and as long as the years of work show an increased number of women fitted to meet the changing conditions of the time, we do well to approve rather than criticise, remembering that the problem is an exceedingly intricate one, and one of which even the best-instructed foreigner can see only a small part of the difficulty.
The year 1901 sees the printing-press[386] almost as much of a power in Japan as in the Western world, and it is interesting to notice that among the innumerable newspapers and magazines now published in the country there are some twenty or more devoted exclusively to the interests of women. To be sure, these women’s magazines do not undertake to furnish the loftiest intellectual pabulum, the best of them covering, perhaps, the same range of subjects that is included in “Woman’s Journals” in the United States. They devote themselves largely to lectures on morals and manners, and instruction as to how best to perform the duties of the home. These magazines are for the most part written and edited by men, many of them very young men, and serve to show rather what men desire that women should think and do, than to give any insight into the minds of the women themselves. With a combined circulation of perhaps 40,000, they enter many homes, and do something, at least, toward the general enlightening and quickening of the feminine mind that is so noticeable in the Japan of to-day. In regard to the general [387]reading of Japanese women who have had the new education, my own observation leads me to believe that they keep themselves well informed of what is going on in their own country, and of the outside world so far as it affects their own country; but that their interest in the world at large is less than that of American women, and only in exceptional cases do they care much for the sayings or doings of foreigners. In this respect they differ widely from the men, whose minds are reaching continually for new things to graft upon the old civilization.
In the whole list of publications on the woman question, nothing has ever come out in Japan that compares for outspokenness and radical sentiments with a book published within a year or two by Mr. Fukuzawa, the most influential teacher that Japan has seen in this era of enlightenment. It is in two parts, the first an attack, conducted with much skill and humor, upon Kaibara’s “Great Learning of Woman,” a book which for nearly four hundred years has been supposed to contain all that a woman should[388] know. The last part of Mr. Fukuzawa’s work is a constructive essay upon the “New Great Learning of Woman.” So revolutionary are the sentiments expressed in the book that many Japanese men hesitate about allowing their wives and daughters to read it, and in at least one modern Christian school it has been ruled out from the school library as too advanced for the reading of the girls. A brief survey of the sentiments and ideas thus boldly set forth will show how far is the attitude of the Japanese from that of the American public on the woman question. We find in Mr. Fukuzawa’s book the lofty ideal that belongs to the most advanced modern thought, but its promulgation as a practical working ideal in Japan was of the nature of a thunderclap. Among less tolerant races, men have been lynched, or burned at the stake, for slighter departures from the average code of thought and morals.
Mr. Fukuzawa starts out with the proposition that women are quite equal to men, and should hold equal position and influence. Although he allows that woman’s work in the world is quite distinct [389]from that of man, he holds that it is as important, and that she should have the same property-holding privileges and rights. The greatest stress is laid on the point that the same moral obligation for purity of life rests on the husband as on the wife. He goes into the details of the unhappiness resulting from concubinage, putting the duty of the husband in this respect as equal to that of the wife to preserve her chastity, and as this is, next to obedience, the virtue of virtues for a Japanese wife, his argument is as strong as it could well be made. He insists that women should demand as a right from their husbands and families the same privileges and opportunities that men have in society.
Such sentiments are a matter of course in America, and they have been held by a few advanced thinkers in Japan, but no one hitherto has dared in so vigorous and positive a way, and with arguments that come so near home, to try to break the chain of custom that holds women down as inferior beings. Kaibara says that if a woman finds her husband doing wrong, she should gently plead with him, choosing [390]a time when he is most inclined to listen. If he refuses, she should not insist on his hearing her, but wait until he is willing to listen, and though she may try two or three times, she should never anger or irritate him. Fukuzawa says that if this applies to the woman, it should also to the man,—that is to say, if a man finds his wife unfaithful, he is to wait for an opportunity when she is in good humor before he remonstrates with her. Fukuzawa also throws new light on the duty of husbands and fathers to their wives and children in another respect. He says that no man should let the sole responsibility for the happiness of the home fall upon his wife; that a man is responsible for the peace of the home as well as the woman. This view of the matter is entirely new in Japan, as the responsibility for an unhappy home is laid as a matter of course upon the wife. The duty of a wife to her parents-in-law is also treated after the same revolutionary manner. Is it to be wondered at that many men fear the influence of such a book upon their gentle, submissive wives? In this connection it[391] is interesting, however, to note that at a recent Shintō wedding, after the religious ceremony, which in itself marks a great step forward in the Japanese ideal of marriage, the priest who united the couple presented to the bride a copy each of the Kaibara and Fukuzawa books, perhaps with a view to letting her take her choice between the old style and the new, perhaps that she might instruct her husband out of the Fukuzawa book while she put in practice herself the time-honored precepts of Kaibara.
One feature of the times in Tōkyō, that
is perhaps worthy of passing notice, is
the tendency of women to form themselves
into societies and clubs for the
attainment of some common object. Of
these women’s clubs, the greater proportion
are perhaps educational, the members
meeting once a month or once a fortnight
to listen to a lecture upon some
subject that helps to keep them up with
the times. There is also a patriotic society,
that concerns itself with raising
money for sending supplies to soldiers in
the field, or for widows and orphans of[392]
soldiers, or to help along some other
patriotic enterprise. There are societies,
too, for general benevolence, or to help
in carrying on the work of some one
institution. A glance at the membership
lists of these associations shows that the
motive power is, in almost all cases, the
same group of earnest, educated women,
who are, in this way and in countless
others, doing their utmost to broaden the
horizons of their countrywomen, and
lead them out into a larger life. This is
probably true in the other cities in which
a movement of women into clubs and
societies is noticeable.
It is when the active women of the
new way of thinking, whose lives and
thoughts are devoted to work and endeavor
rather than to the passive submission
and self-abnegation of the old
days, find themselves suddenly placed
among the surroundings of thirty years
ago, that the change of conditions becomes
most evident. I cannot think of a
better way to illustrate this than to tell
the story of one of my Japanese friends
and her visit to her husband’s relatives
in a distant provincial city. The lady[393]
who told me the story is a stirring, capable
young matron, educated after the
modern ways, who has spent most of her
happy married life of some fifteen or sixteen
years entirely in Tōkyō, except for
a visit of a year to America. She bears
a closer resemblance to many kind-hearted,
strong, energetic young American
women than to the old-time Japanese
lady portrayed in these pages. She rises
every morning at five, attends to every
detail of her housekeeping, watches carefully
and with educated common sense
over her family of young children, believes
in good food, fresh air, and exercise,
for boys and girls alike, and is a
helpful friend and good neighbor, filling
to the full the position of work and influence
in which she is placed. Her husband
is a successful business man, whom
frequent journeys across the Pacific have
made thoroughly cosmopolitan, and their
children are accustomed to a freedom
from conventional restraints and a
healthful diet and regimen such as old
Japan never knew.
Last year the plan of spending the
summer with the husband’s relatives,[394]
which had been long projected, was actually
carried out, and the whole family
migrated to the provincial city from
which the husband had sprung. The
aged mother, a gentlewoman of the old
type, was delighted to meet and entertain
her daughter-in-law and grandchildren,
and did her best, with all old-fashioned
courtesy, to make the visit a pleasant
one. The house was clean and
spacious, the mats soft and white, the
bows of the lowest, the voices and speech
the politest that Japan could furnish, but
the healthy, restless children found the
conventional restraints irksome, and the
old-fashioned diet of rice and pickles,
with hardly a variation from morning till
night and from week to week, was quite
different from the bountiful table to
which they had been accustomed. The
younger woman could not criticise her
mother-in-law’s arrangements, neither
could she bear to see her children growing
thin and pale before her eyes. She
consulted her husband, who, in accordance
with the antique ideas of propriety,
was served his meals at a different time
and in a different room from his wife and[395]
family. To his food his mother had
always added various delicacies which
her old-time Spartan spirit would not
allow her to set before her daughter-in-law
and grandchildren. It would have
been quite contrary to her ideas of rank
and etiquette for her to make any modification
of her ordinary fare for them.
As the son was already supplying the
funds for carrying on his mother’s establishment,
it occurred to him that he
might increase her allowance on the plea
that her summer expenses must be heavy
with so large an addition to her household.
But the old lady was sure that
nothing more was necessary, and would
not think of burdening her son with any
larger expenses, and could not be induced
to accept the offered increase.
Another effort was made to get along
upon the meagre fare, but the youngest
boy fell ill and had to be taken to a hospital,
and the mother decided that something
must be done if all the family did
not wish to follow him. The happy
thought occurred to her of buying something
that would be an addition to their
scanty menu, and giving it as a present[396]
to her mother-in-law. Now a present in
Japan can never be refused, so it seemed
to the younger woman that she must
have found a way of escape from her
difficulties. Of course, the present was
accepted with many thanks and expressions
of unworthiness, and when the
meal-hour arrived, each member of the
family found an infinitesimal quantity of
the delicacy in a small plate at his side.
But as soon as the meal was over, the
dear old lady, who had by strict economy
managed to leave the greater part of the
gift untouched, sent out to all the neighbors
presents from what had been intended
to feed the hungry children at
home. The experiment was tried again
and again, but always with the same
result. No present could be kept for
family use alone. Of everything but the
barest necessaries, the greater part must
be sent out in gifts to others.
At last the husband and wife put their
heads together to decide on some course
of action that, without hurting the feelings
of the older lady, would secure sufficient
nourishment for the children, and
forthwith began a series of all-day picnics
[397]to the noted places in the vicinity,—picnics
that included always a good meal
at some well-kept restaurant before the
return to the old-fashioned fare of the
grandmother’s house. In this way the
summer was passed without further illness,
though the poor mother on her
return to Tōkyō spent several weeks in
bed,—what with starvation and worry
and the effort to bear heroically, and
with a smiling face, the hard life and
scanty fare that were the life and fare of
most of Japan only a few years ago.
In the changes that the past few years
have wrought, perhaps nothing is more
striking than the new openings for work
that Japan now offers to women. The
growth of the public school system has
made a demand for women as teachers
that is steadily increasing. Although in
the normal schools the proportion of
women to men is still only one to six, and
while teaching, even in the primary
schools, is not yet mainly in feminine
hands as it is with us, there is still a
good showing of women employed as
teachers. From the figures of the school
report of 1898, we find over 10,000[398]
women as teachers and assistants in the
public and private schools. The profession
of nursing, too, which ten years ago
was just opening, has already drawn
many women into its ranks. In the Red
Cross hospitals alone there are this year
nearly a thousand nurses taking the
course, and a thousand graduates scattered
throughout the country hold themselves
ready to answer the call of the
society in the time of need, in the mean
time practicing their profession wherever
they may chance to be. The quality
of the Red Cross graduates has been
tested now in two wars, and they show
the soldierly virtues of their nation, as
well as the more womanly qualities of
tenderness and gentleness; and a self-respect
that has kept them pure and free
from stain in the midst of severe temptation.
It is impossible for me to gather
statistics of the work done by other institutions
for the training of nurses, but
the figures given above may, I think, be
doubled with absolute safety in making
an estimate of the total number of
nurses trained and in training throughout
the empire.
[399]
The growth of commerce and industry
has greatly increased the demand for
feminine labor outside the home. In the
old days the two most important industries
of the country, tea and silk, were
mainly carried on by women in their
homes, but the use of modern machinery
is rapidly taking the weaving industries
out of the homes and making factory
hands of the women and children.[44]
One of the most noticeable effects of
this new demand for female labor is the
extreme scarcity of servants. Although
wages are nearly double what they were
ten years ago, it is extremely difficult for
Japanese housekeepers now to find servants
to replace the old ones as they
drop out of the ranks, and the women
who apply for positions are apt to be far
inferior to those who came to the same[400]
families to do the same work ten years
ago.
In other ways, too, women are learning
to fill new places in the world. The
telephone, which now connects towns
and cities and villages in Japan, employs
girls in large numbers. In the printing-offices
we find women at work, not as
compositors, but as compositors’ assistants,
darting from case to case about the
room and selecting for the compositor
the ideographs that he needs in his work.
Inasmuch as a small printing-office cannot
get along with less than four thousand
characters, and as larger ones may
have several times that number, the need
of quick-witted and quick-footed assistants
to each compositor may be easily
recognized. As the schools turn out each
year more girls fitted by education to do
this kind of work, and as the number of
newspapers and other printed matter is
continually on the increase, the demand
for and supply of this special variety of
labor are likely to increase proportionately
for some time to come.
A few women are now making their
way as reporters on the daily papers, a[401]
few more are engaged in literary work.
One of the best of modern Japanese novelists
was a woman, but she died several
years ago at so early an age that her
work was a promise rather than a fulfillment.
Artists, too, there are, who are
making names for themselves, as well as
a living, in a country where art is so
common that success in that line means
hard work and special talent. A few
young women support themselves by
stenography, a few more as clerks and
secretaries in business offices. Until a
writing-machine has been invented that
will write four thousand characters,
there will not be much demand for typewriter
girls in Japan outside of the
treaty ports, where a few are now employed.
The Japanese government has
found, as Uncle Sam discovered some
time ago, that for the counting of paper
money women’s fingers are more deft
than those of men, and it consequently
gives employment to a few women in
that work. One railroad has recently
begun to employ women as ticket-sellers,
and three medical schools have already
graduated some women physicians,[402]
though it is still doubtful whether there
is any great opening for them in the
country. These are some of the ways in
which women now find themselves able
to gain a little more independence of life.
The whole matter is so new that no statistics
are available that will show the
exact extent of the demand for labor in
these directions, but from my own observation
I am inclined to think that there
is little change in the employments of
women except in the neighborhood of
the larger cities, and that the new occupations
as yet have a very slight effect
upon the conditions in this country at
large.
It is not possible to understand the
actual progress made in Japan in improving
the condition of women, without
some consideration of the effect that
Christian thought and Christian lives
have had on the thought and lives of the
modern Japanese. If Japanese women
are ever to be raised to the measure of
opportunity accorded to women in Christian
countries, it can only be through the
growth of Christianity in their own country,
and for that reason a study of that[403]
growth is pertinent to a study of their
condition.
The past ten years in Japan have been
discouraging to the missionaries in many
ways, and it is not unusual to hear from
the less hopeful of them the statement
that their work has been at a standstill,
or even going backward, during that time.
The statistics of missionary effort show
a steady, though slight, increase in the
number of professing Christians, but if
the sum total of the results of missionary
effort were the number of converts
made, it might, perhaps, be doubtful
whether the money spent on missions in
Japan might not be better turned to
other purposes. There are now in Japan,
of Christians of all sects, Protestant, and
Roman and Greek Catholic, 121,000, or
about one half of one per cent. of the
total population of the country; but the
influence of these Christians as leaders
of thought is out of all proportion to
their number. Christian men are found
in the Diet, in the army and navy, in the
universities and colleges, and in the
newspaper offices, in a proportion far
beyond their ratio to the total population,
[404]exerting their influence in many
ways for the uplifting of the nation to
loftier moral ideals. The proportion of
Christian men and women in the government
schools with which I have been
connected is rather surprising. In the
Higher Normal School, training young
women to go out into the whole country
as teachers, the proportion of professing
Christians upon the teaching staff is
striking; and in the Peeresses’ School,
which is as conservative and anti-foreign
as any educational institution in Japan,
there are five professing Christians
among the thirty-five teachers. While,
on the one hand, the Japanese Christians
are not all models of all the virtues,
while there is with many of them a tendency
to modify their Christianity so as
to accommodate a considerable amount
of worldly wisdom, it is true, on the
other hand, that the most active workers
in the cause of philanthropy are men
who have accepted the Christian faith,
and who are striving in all earnestness
to model their lives after the life of Jesus
of Nazareth. The Christian Church in
Japan to-day has its heroes and its back-sliders,
[405]and has between these two extremes
a rank and file of every-day, commonplace
men and women, who amidst
frequent failures and in the midst of
many temptations are making the name
of Christian stand for a certain kind of
life and a certain standard of virtue
quite above and beyond the lives and
standards of their countrymen. It is
largely because of them that a Christian
public opinion is growing up among non-Christian
Japanese. Men to-day who
have no special leanings toward Christianity
shake their heads over vices and
sins which a few years ago were not even
thought of as wrong. There is a great
deal of talk about the growth of moral
depravity in the country, but as a matter
of fact, the standards of virtue have
never been so high since Japan was
opened as they are to-day: it is only that
Christian thought has held up a mirror
to an un-Christian society, in which it
views all too clearly its own defects.
There is, to my mind, no more hopeful
sign of the times than the growing discouragement
over the present condition
of morals. When there is added to this[406]
a steadily increasing respect for the honesty
and strength of character of Christian
men and women, it must mean that
a great and lasting impression has been
made. To-day banks, business offices,
and other places requiring trustworthy
clerks and employees, prefer, other
things being equal, Christian young men,
for it is generally known that they are
more worthy of confidence than the majority
of applicants for such places.
One instance of this increased moral
sensitiveness may be cited in the recent
successful efforts to limit the power of
the brothel-keepers over their victims
and virtual slaves, the or licensed
prostitutes. As I have stated in a previous
chapter, the women who carry on
this business in Japan are, many of them,
unwilling victims of a system which
allows parents to sell their children to a
life of shame; and they enter upon that
life so young that they can hardly be
regarded as morally responsible for their
condition. Even after the actual sale of
girls was forbidden by an imperial ordinance
in 1872, the purchase price was
called a loan to the parents of the girl,[407]
and subsequent loans for clothing entered
upon the books of the establishment
kept the unfortunates so continually
in debt to their masters that they
could never escape from the bondage in
which they were held except through
death, or by purchase by some infatuated
admirer. Public opinion, while it
indulged in some sentimental pity for
the hard lot of the , did little or nothing
to aid any one who desired to help
them, regarding the profession as a necessary
one, and caring not at all for the
injustice to which the girls were subjected.
Ten or twelve years ago, a movement
started by some prominent Japanese
Christians against the fell flat
for want of a public opinion behind it.
Speeches on the subject were hissed
down by audiences of young men, and
nothing could be done to help even the
most innocent and unhappy of the girls
to a better life. In the new code, perhaps
as an effect of this movement, a new
law provided that the might leave
her calling by giving notice to the police.
A police regulation, however, forbade
any girl to cease her employment, or to[408]
leave the house in which she was kept,
unless her official notice of cessation was
countersigned by the keeper of the
, so that by her own effort she
could not free herself.
In the year 1900, one of these girls in
a provincial city appealed to an American
missionary for help in getting her
liberty. Through his aid, and that of his
Japanese helpers, her case came before
the court, which decided that the contract
under which she was held was
opposed to the public welfare and good
morals, and that the keeper must affix
his seal to her notice without regard to
her debt. Although the local police refused
to act in the matter, and although
the missionary and his helpers were subjected
to personal violence by the employees
of the , an appeal to the
authorities at Tōkyō resulted in an enforcement
of the court’s decision, and the
girl was freed.
At this juncture the Salvation Army,
which has a valiant contingent in Tōkyō,
and which was actually spoiling for a
good fight with the world, the flesh, and
the Devil, in any form, took up the cause[409]
of the oppressed . A special edition
of the “War Cry” containing appeals to
the girls to leave their lives of shame,
and offering aid to any one who might
apply to the Army, was published and
hawked through the Yoshiwara. When
the keepers and their employees found
out what the strangely costumed news-venders
were about, they charged down
upon them, and after a street fight,
drove them out of the quarter. Thus the
war began, but the Tōkyō police took up
the matter, the Tōkyō press joined hands
with the Salvationists, and in the end the
whole country was stirred to aid in the
attack. In return, the brothel-keepers
and their employees, feeling that the
profits of their business were at stake,
made it extremely warm for any Salvationists
or newspaper reporters who
dared set foot in the disreputable quarters,
and in their zeal sometimes made
mistakes and drove out their would-be
patrons. The office of one newspaper
was wrecked by sympathetic roughs, and
it took a squad of fifty or sixty police to
escort Army officers when they had occasion
to visit any of the houses to secure[410]
the release of a girl. No lives were lost,
though some hard knocks were received,
and the work was kept up with unabated
noise on both sides, until every girl held
in unwilling bondage knew how she
might escape and to whom she could go
for aid.
During the month of September, 1900,
as a direct result of the attacks of and
upon the Army, the number of visitors
to these houses in Tōkyō was decreased
by about 2,000 a night. On October 2, a
government ordinance was issued that at
one stroke removed all obstacles in the
way of a girl’s securing her freedom at
any moment when she wanted to leave
the business. The new regulations made
the descent to Avernus as difficult as possible,
and the return to the upper world
a mere step. In Tōkyō alone, in the first
four months after the promulgation of
this order, 1,100 out of the 6,335 girls
who were licensed as prostitutes left the
houses in which they were employed,
most of them returning to their homes
and families, and as many as applied
being cared for in the Rescue Home of
the Salvation Army. The places thus[411]
vacated are not easy to fill, because the
keepers will not advance money to the
parents of a girl, now that they can no
longer hold her as security for the debt.
In consequence, too, of the revelations of
the evils of the system, the business has
fallen off alarmingly. Thus many of the
houses have been obliged to close, owing
to lack of custom and to inability to pay
the heavy taxes.
We have here the story of a successful
attack on a system which has existed in
Japan for three hundred years, by a
Christian agency acting with the support
of so strong a public opinion that police
and government have felt bound to obey
its behests. There has been no more
striking example of the effect of Christian
thought upon public sentiment in
any country than this crusade against
the brothels in Japan. When we remember
that ten years ago it was not possible
for a speaker to attack the institution
before an audience of students without
being silenced by hisses, it is interesting
to note that this year, the students of
that same school greeted with applause
and respectful attention an address on
this very subject.
[412]
It seems to me rather striking that in
the year 1900 fifty thousand copies of the
Bible were sold in Japan—more than of
any other book. Although the present
translation is regarded as far from perfect,
and much of it is unintelligible to
the average Japanese without instruction,
whether directly or indirectly, by
mission workers, it is still sought after
and read for the sake of its literature,
and because of the reputation that has
been gained for it throughout the country.
There are few missionaries of any
experience in Japan who cannot tell
stories of men coming to them from
country villages, who, through the reading
of a copy of the Bible in some way
fallen into their hands, have been
brought by the beauty and nobility of
the parts that they could understand to
seek additional explanation from some
teacher or preacher. One case that is
amusing, but at the same time striking,
I have heard vouched for from a number
of sources:—
Two thieves, one night, broke into the
dormitory of a girls’ school in search of
booty, and by chance awakened two of[413]
the girls. As they sat up in their beds,
wondering what was best to do under
the circumstances, one zealous damsel
reached for the Bible in which she had
been reading before she went to sleep,
and handed it to one of the thieves, saying,
“If you read this book, you will not
want to steal any more.” The other girl
followed her companion’s example and
gave her Bible to the other thief. That
was all, so far as the girls knew, and it
was some years before the sequel came
to light.
There is one place in Japan to which
released convicts who are trying to get
back to respectability again drift from
all parts of the empire. It is a prisoners’
home in Tōkyō, where one man, aided by
his capable and devoted wife, receives
into his own family and gives aid and
succor to hundreds of society’s outcasts.
To this place came one day an ex-convict
who told a remarkable story of his conversion,
and of his desire to lead a new
life. He had received a Bible from a little
girl one night in a house that he was
robbing, but was too full of professional
engagements at the time to follow her[414]
advice and read it. Later, however, as
he was resting from his labors in the
enforced seclusion of a prison, he began
to read, and spelled out enough to make
up his mind that he did not want to steal
any more. Accordingly, as soon as his
term was ended, he made his way to the
prisoners’ refuge, and by the aid of its
founder and head, and his good wife,
settled down to steady habits of industry.
Later, when the prison look had
worn off from his face and the prison
gait from his walk, he returned to his
family and friends, where he is now a
respectable member of the society upon
which he formerly preyed.
There are other stories showing as deep
impressions made on men of culture and
respectability, not so striking and amusing
as this one, but meaning as much, or
even more, for the future of Japan. Such
things are hardly possible in Christian
countries to-day, for there is little or no
novelty in the message that the old book
brings to us; but to the Japanese mind
the thoughts are absolutely new in many
ways, and the reading alone will often
change the whole life, because it lifts up
the nature to a higher set of ideals.
[415]
As a direct effect of Christian thought
upon the thought of the Japanese nation,
it is interesting to notice the change
in meaning of one word. In the teachings
of Confucius the highest virtue is
benevolence, rendered into Japanese by
the word ; in the teachings of Buddhism
the highest virtue is mercy, or
. When the Christian missionaries
first came to Japan, there was no term in
the language that covered the thought of
love as it is taught by Christ. For lack
of anything better, the word , which
indicated the love of a superior for an
inferior, was made to do duty for the
greater thought; and now the old word
, throughout the length and breadth of
Japan, is accepted and understood in its
new meaning, a continual witness to the
effect of Christianity upon the national
mind. Is this a little thing in the education
of a race that has shown in the past
so great a capacity for living up to its
ideals?
One more direct effect of Christian
teaching upon Japanese society is the
great quickening of philanthropic and
benevolent effort. Scattered throughout[416]
the country are benevolent or educational
societies, orphanages, hospitals,
free kindergartens, reform schools, and
other evidences of a desire on the part
of the more fortunate to help the unfortunate
by some means or other; and if
you study into the history of any of these
efforts, you will usually find that some
Japanese Christian, or some man who
has come home impressed with the
philanthropies of Christian countries,
has started the scheme, and has created
a society, and a public opinion behind
the society, which carries on the work.
Even in the government institutions
there is no difficulty in tracing the influence
of Christians and Christianity. The
Red Cross Society, with its seven thousand
members, and its hospitals in every
prefecture of the empire, bears the sign
of Christendom upon all its property and
employees. It seems to me quite safe to
say that but for the Christian influences
of the past forty years, there would be
very little altruistic work done in Japan
to-day; but by means of the Christians
and their teachings, the latest and best
thought of the world is working its way[417]
out in practical service for humanity in
Japan, and this service is ascribed by
enlightened Buddhist and Shintō believers
alike to the spirit of Christianity,
which will not let the fortunate rest
while their less fortunate brothers are in
want or sin.
No one who studies the religious question
in Japan at all can fail to notice the
extraordinary revivifying of Buddhism
for what it feels to be a life and death
struggle with an alien faith. The disestablishment
of the Buddhist church by
the government at the time of the restoration
must be credited with its share of
the awakening process; for the priests,
finding their own support and that of the
temples dependent upon the voluntary
contributions of worshipers, were forced
to bestir themselves as they had not done
since the old missionary days, when they
were working for a foothold in the country.
But without the competition of
Christianity, it is extremely doubtful
whether their efforts would have been
turned so largely along educational and
philanthropic lines, whether the standard
of intelligence among the priesthood[418]
would have been so quickly raised,
whether they would have sent young
men abroad to study Sanskrit and history
with a view to a better understanding
of their own scriptures, or whether
they would not rather have relied on less
radical methods of quickening the religious
life within their body. Certain it
is that Buddhism, which upon its introduction
into Japan actually lowered the
status of women, is now making a bid for
public favor by holding meetings and
founding societies especially for women,
and is doing its best to increase their
self-respect and the respect in which they
are held by society.
An interesting story which throws
some light upon the new influence that is
at work among the Buddhists came to
me not long ago through a Japanese
friend. There were two brothers living
in a poor little village on the northern
coast of Japan, who were joint heirs to a
small piece of property. As the land was
not enough for the support of two families,
the elder brother, a gentle, thoughtful
youth, gave up all title to his share of
the inheritance and entered a Buddhist[419]
monastery. In the quiet of this retreat,
amid the beautiful surroundings, the
daily services, the chanting of priests,
and the mellow booming of the great
monastery bell, his thoughts went out to
the poor and the sinful among his own
people. He began to feel that a life
which seeks merely spiritual uplift for
itself is not the highest life, and that only
as spiritual gain is shared with others
is it real and lasting. Forthwith he
began a life of helpfulness to the poor
about him,—of teaching and preaching
and good deeds that won him many
humble friends. Within the monastery,
however, his work was not approved.
His ideas and actions were not in harmony
with the teachings of the sect. He
was first disciplined and then expelled,
and found his way back at last, penniless,
to his native village.
Now, in northern Japan the winters
are long and hard, and the most industrious
of farmers and fisher-folk can wring
only a bare subsistence from the conditions
of their toil. It is from these villages,
perhaps, more than from any other
sources, that the girls are obtained to[420]
supply the of the great cities. At
any rate, in this particular village, the
only hope that any girl possessed of
escaping from the hard home toil was by
the sale of her person, and the thought
of seeing the great cities, of wearing
beautiful dresses, of being admired and
petted, and perhaps at last of marrying
some rich lover and becoming a great
lady, was a tempting bait to these poor
peasant girls. To this young man, whose
soul had been awakened to a new sensitiveness
during his absence, the full horror
of the conditions that could so warp
and dwarf the souls of women appealed
as it had never done before. He must do
something to help them, but what to do
his previous experience did not help him
to know. He sought for aid and sympathy
in his native place, among his
friends and co-religionists; but the state
of affairs was too old and too familiar to
excite interest, and at last he worked his
way to the capital, feeling that somewhere
in that great city he would find
light on the question that perplexed him.
It was a mere question of ways and
means—how to begin a work which he[421]
felt driven from within to do. In Tōkyō,
as he inquired among his friends, he was
told that Christians knew all about the
kind of work that he wished to begin,
that he must go to them and study their
methods, if he would help the people of
his native village. So the devout young
Buddhist, who had found in his own
faith the divine impulse, turned to the
study of what Christians had done and
were doing for the unfortunate. The
story is not finished yet. We cannot tell
whether in the end it will result in another
addition to the ranks of the Japanese
Christians, or whether it will aid
in the quickening that has come to
Buddhism, but, whatever way it ends, it
shows in a concrete example what Christianity
is now doing for Japan, and especially
for the women of the country.
Footnotes:
[43] The following in the report for 1898 may be of
interest:—
Percentage of pupils of school age receiving instruction:—
Year. | Girls. | Boys. |
---|---|---|
1896 | 47.54 | 79.00 |
1897 | 50.86 | 80.67 |
1898 | 53.73 | 82.42 |
The total number of girls of school age not receiving instruction is 1,552,601; of boys, 662,985; while the total number of girls of school age is 3,642,263, and of boys, 4,067,161. [44] In the Japan of July 8, 1901, the following statistics of women employees in factories in Japan were given:—
Manufacture. | No. of Women. | No. to 100 Men. |
---|---|---|
Raw Silk | 107,348 | 93 |
Cotton Spinning | 53,053 | 79 |
Matches | 11,385 | 69 |
Cotton Fabrics | 10,656 | 86 |
Tobacco | 7,874 | 72 |
Matting | 1,641 | 59 |
APPENDIX.
[
3.](#APXanchor_3) The father, or the head of the family, usually names the children, but some friend or patron may be asked to do it. As, until recently, the name given a child in infancy was not the one that he was expected to bear through life, the choice of a name was not a matter of as much importance as it is with us. In some families the boys are called by names indicating their position in the family, the words , “Big one,” , “Second one,” , “Third one,” , “Fourth one,” , “Fifth one,” etc., being used alone, or placed after adjectives indicating some quality that it is hoped the child may possess. Such combinations are, , “Glorious big one,” , “Pure second one,” , “Rich third one,” and so on.
[
4.](#APXanchor_4)
To speak with greater exactness, the of a boy is on the thirty-first day of his life,—of
a girl, on the thirty-third.
[424]
[
8.](#APXanchor_8) Tōkyō just now shows a tendency to change this national custom. Gayly painted wicker baby carriages with cotton awnings are seen in large quantities in the shops, and one meets mothers and little sisters of the lower classes, propelling the baby in a little four-wheeled wagon instead of wearing it on the back, as formerly. These carriages are, of course, the exception, and may prove to be but a passing Tōkyō fashion, but they seem to me to mark another step in the modernizing of Japan, and may prove of value in the physical development of the common people.
[
11.](#APXanchor_11) In the Tōkyō of 1891 butchers and milkmen were very little in evidence, as the demand for their wares came mainly from the few foreigners and foreign restaurants in the city. In 1901 a walk of half a mile or so in the neighborhood of Kojimachi, one of the principal business streets in a purely Japanese section of the city, shows five meat shops; and milkmen, in westernized shirts and knickerbockers, with golf-stockings and straw sandals, draw their gay-colored carts everywhere through the city, and call at a large proportion of the houses. Condensed milk, too,[425] is to be found on the shelves of every provision store, together with canned and dried meats, and the restaurants where foreign food is served are distributed throughout the entire city, and do a thriving business on Japanese patronage. The less extravagant country people declare that Tōkyō is “eating itself up,” but so far no terrible increase of indebtedness seems to follow the change in the standard of living. It is interesting to note that the scalp troubles referred to on page 11 seem to have greatly lessened in the last ten years, whether because of the change in the food or for other reasons, I cannot determine.
[
24.](#APXanchor_24)
Twice, after the of her babyhood,
does our little maid repair to the temple to seek
the blessing of her patron god upon a step forward
in her short life: once, when at the age
of three, the hair on her small head, which until
then has been shaved in fancy patterns, is allowed
to begin its growth toward the coiffure of womanhood;
and once, when she has attained her seventh
year, and exchanges the soft, narrow sash
of infancy for the stiff, wide which is the
pride of every well-dressed Japanese woman.
Her little brother, too, though now no longer
destined to wear the hammer-shaped queue of
the old-time Japanese warrior, and whose fuzzy[426]
black head is now usually left unshaven in his
babyhood, still goes to the temple at the age of
three to give thanks, and when he comes to be
five years old, the little boy again goes up to the
temple, this time wearing for the first time the
manly , or kilt-pleated trousers, and
makes offerings to the god who has protected
him thus far.
The day set for these ceremonies is the 15th
of November, and there is no prettier sight in all
Japan than a popular temple on that day. All the
streets that converge on the shrine are crowded
with gayly dressed children hurrying along to
make their offerings, accompanied by parents
brimming with pride and pleasure.
“Small feet are pattering, wooden shoes clattering,
Little hands clapping, and little tongues chattering:”
three-year-old tots of both sexes trudging sturdily
along on their clogs: square little red-cheeked
boys, their black eyes shining with pride in their
rustling new silk , feeling that they are
big boys and no longer to be confused with the
babies that they were yesterday: here, too, are
the graceful seven-year-old maidens, their many-colored
garments and their gorgeous new
setting off to advantage their shining black hair
and sparkling eyes. The children are so many,
so happy, and so impressed with the fun that it
is to be older than they were, that the grown[427]
folks who accompany them seem like shadows;
the only real thing is the children.
Within the temple precincts all the candy-sellers
and toy-merchants who can find standing-room
for a stall are doing a brisk trade. Flags
are flying, drums are beating, a dance is
going on in the pavilion, about which stands a
crowd of youngsters twittering like sparrows, and
the steps that lead to the temple itself are as
thronged as Jacob’s ladder with little ones ascending
and descending. Within the shrine the
white-robed priests are hard at work from morning
to night. A little company forms in the
vestibule, goes to the priest in the first room,
where they bow and make their offerings, and
wait until there is space for them in the inner
sanctuary. From within comes the sound of a
droning chant, which ends at last, and then a
party that has finished its worship issues forth,
and those who have been waiting without go in;
and when the few minutes of worship are over,
and the amulet that rewards the due observance
of the day has been received, there are the dances
to be seen, and the to be purchased,
and at last the happy party returns, feeling that
one more milestone on the journey of life has
been passed propitiously.
[428]
[
30.](#APXanchor_30) The (white ) used for this occasion is a curious drink, thick and white, made from pounded rice, and brewed especially for this feast. Some antiquarians believe that it is simply the earliest form of , the national beverage, which has been preserved in this ancient observance as the fly is preserved in amber.
[
31.](#APXanchor_31)
The keeping of a feast on the third day of the
third month is a custom that has come down
from very ancient times. At first the day was
set apart for the purification of the people, and a
part of the ceremony was the rubbing of the body
with bits of white paper, roughly cut into the
semblance of a white-robed priest. These paper
dolls were believed to take away the sins of the
year. When they had been used for purification,
they were inscribed with the sex and birth-year
of the user and thrown into the river. The
third month was also, in early times, the season
for cock-fighting among the men, and for doll-playing
among the women. The special name
by which the dolls of the Doll Feast are called is
. Now in modern Japanese
means a chicken or other young bird, and is[429]
never used to mean anything else except the
dolls; thus the dolls are shown to be associated
with the ancient cock-fighting, an amusement
which has now almost gone out, except in the
province of Tosa on the island of Shikoku.
The oldest dolls did not represent the Emperor
and Empress, but simply a man and a woman,
and were modeled closely after the old white paper
dolls of the religious ceremony. When the
Tokugawa Shōguns had firmly established their
splendid court at Yedo, a decree was issued
designating the five feast days upon which the
daimiōs were to present themselves at the Shōgun’s
palace and offer their congratulations.
One of the days thus appointed was the third
day of the third month. It is believed that the
giving of the chief place at the feast to effigies
of the Emperor and Empress was a part of the
policy of the Shōgunate,—a policy which aimed
to keep alive the spirit of loyalty to the throne,
while at the same time the occupant of the throne
remained a puppet in the hands of his vice-gerent.
Each girl born into a family has a pair of placed for her upon the red-covered
shelf, on the first Feast of Dolls that comes after
her birth. When, as a bride, she goes to her
husband’s house, she carries the dolls with her,
and the first feast after her marriage she observes[430]
with special ceremonies. Until she has a daughter
old enough to carry out the observance, she
must keep up the ceremony. The feast, as it
exists to-day, is said by the Japanese to serve
three purposes: it makes the children of both
sexes loyal to the imperial family, it interests the
girls in housekeeping, and it trains them in ceremonial
etiquette.
[
40.](#APXanchor_40) Because of the complexity of the Chinese language and the time needed for its mastery, there has been a movement to lessen the study of pure Chinese in the government schools, or abolish it altogether, and with this to simplify the use of the ideographs in the Sinico-Japanese. The educational department is requiring that text-books be limited in their use of ideographs; that those used be written in only one way and that the simplest, and that the (the Japanese syllabary) be substituted wherever possible. Several plans for reform in this matter are being agitated, one of which is to limit the use of ideographs to nouns and verbs only.
[
41.](#APXanchor_41)
No one who has been in Japan can have failed to
notice the peculiarly strident quality of the Japanese
voice in singing, a quality that is gained by[431]
professional singers through much labor and
actual physical suffering. That this is not a natural
characteristic of the Japanese voice is shown by
the fact that in speaking, the voices, both of children
and adults, are low and sweet. It seems to
me to be brought about by the pursuit of a wrong
musical ideal, or at least, of a musical ideal quite
distinct from that of the Western world. In Japan
one seldom finds singing birds kept in cages, but
instead crickets, grasshoppers, katydids, and other
noisy members of the insect family may be seen
exposed for sale in the daintiest of cages any
summer night in the Tōkyō streets. These insects
delight the ears of the Japanese with their
melody, and it seems to me that the voices of
singers throughout the empire are modeled after
the shrill, rattling chirp of the insect, rather than
after the fuller notes of the bird’s song.
The introduction of European music by the
schools and churches has already begun to show in
the songs of the children in the streets, and where
ten years ago one might live in Tōkyō for a year,
and never hear a note of music except the semi-musical
cries of the workmen, when they are
pulling or striking in concert, now there are few
days when some strain of song from some passing
school-child does not come in at the window of
one’s house in any quarter of the city. The progress
made in catching foreign ideas of time and[432]
tune is quite surprising, but the singing will never
be acceptable to the foreign ear until the voice
is modulated according to the foreign standards.
[
45.](#APXanchor_45) It is said by Japanese versed in the most refined ways that a woman who has learned the tea ceremony thoroughly is easily known by her superior bearing and manner on all occasions.
[
49.](#APXanchor_49)
Whatever plant she begins with is taken up in
a series of studies,—leaves, flowers, roots, and
stalks being shown in every possible position and
combination,—until not only the stroke is mastered,
but the plant is thoroughly known. In the
book that lies before me as I write, a book used
as a copy-book by a young lady beginning the
practice of the art, the teacher has devoted six
large pages to studies of one small and simple
flower and the pupil has covered hundreds of
sheets of paper with efforts to imitate the designs.
She has now finished that part of the course, and
can, at a moment’s notice, reproduce with just the
right strokes any of the designs or any part of
the plant. The next step forward will be a similar
series of bamboo.
[433]
[
52.](#APXanchor_52) In the government schools for girls, much attention is paid just now to physical culture. The gymnastic exercises rank with the Chinese and English and mathematics as important parts of the course, and the girls are encouraged to spend their recesses out-of-doors, engaging in all kinds of athletic sports. Races, ball games, tugs-of-war, marches, and quadrilles are entered into with zest and enjoyment, and the girls in their dark red are as well able to move quickly and freely as girls of the same age in America. If it were not for the queer pigeon-toed gait, acquired by years of walking in narrow and on high clogs, the Japanese girls would be fully abreast of the American in all these sports. So strongly has the idea of the necessity for physical strength seized upon the nation, that a girl of delicate physique has less chance of marriage than one who is robust and strong.
[
55.](#APXanchor_55) It is in the mistakes and failures made in adapting the education given in the schools to the exact conditions that present themselves in the constantly changing Japan of to-day, that the opponents of all alteration in the education of women find their strongest arguments. The conservatives [434]point with scorn to this girl whose new ideas have led her into folly or trouble, or to that one whose health has been broken down by the adverse conditions surrounding her student life, and say, “This will be the case with all our women if we continue this insane practice of educating them along new lines.” Advance in female education, as in all other lines of progress in Japan, is a series of violent actions and reactions. In 1889, partly through ill-advised conduct on the part of supporters of the cause, one of the most serious reverses that has come in the progress of Western education for women began to show itself. The reaction was helped along by a paper read before some of the most influential men of Japan, and subsequently reported and discussed in the newspapers, by a German professor in the medical department of the imperial University in Tōkyō. The paper was a serious warning to the men of the country that no women could be good wives, mothers, and housekeepers and at the same time have undergone a thorough literary education. The arguments were reinforced by statistics showing that American college women either did not marry, or that if they married they had very few children. All Japan took fright at this alarming showing, and for several years the education of girls in anything more than the primary studies was not encouraged by[435] the government. The lowest depth of this reaction was reached during or soon after the Japan-China war, when the growth of national vanity resulted in a temporary disdain for all foreign ideas. The tide has turned again now, girls’ schools that have been closed for years are being reopened, young men who are thinking of marrying are looking for educated wives, and among the women themselves there is a strong desire for self-improvement. Under this impulse a new generation of educated women will be added to those already exerting an influence in the country, and it is to be hoped that the forward movement will be more difficult to set back when the next reactionary wave strikes the Japanese coast.
[
60.](#APXanchor_60) The is supposed to express by its length the hope that the marriage may be an enduring one. Among the more modernized Japanese a ring is now often given in place of, or, in the wealthier classes, in addition to the .
[
61, 6.](#APXanchor_61a) It is interesting, however, as a sign of the times, to notice that for the wedding of the Crown Prince, in May, 1900, the Shinto high priest, who is master of ceremonies at the Imperial Court, instituted a solemn religious ceremony[436] within the sanctuary of the palace. Following the example set in so high a quarter, a number of couples, during the winter of 1900-1901, have repaired to Shinto temples in various parts of the empire, to secure the sanction of the ancient national faith upon their union. But still, for the great majority of the Japanese, the wedding ceremony is what it has always been.
[
61, 15.](#APXanchor_61b) Although new methods of transportation have come into use now in most of the Japanese cities, and wheeled carts drawn by men or horses are used for carrying all other kinds of luggage, the wedding outfit, wrapped in great cloths on which the crest of the bride’s family is conspicuous, is borne on men’s shoulders to the bridegroom’s home, the length of the baggage train and the number and size of the burdens showing the wealth and importance of the bride’s family. The bride who goes to her husband’s house well provided by her own family, will carry, not only a full wardrobe and the house-furnishings already mentioned, but will be supplied, so far as foresight can manage it, with all the little things that she can need for months in advance. Paper, pens, ink, postage stamps, needles, thread, and sewing materials of all kinds, a store of dress materials and other things to be given as presents[437] to any and all who may do her favors, and pocket money with which she may make good any deficiencies, or meet any unforeseen emergency. When she goes from her father’s house, she should be so thoroughly fitted out that she will not have to ask her husband for the smallest thing for a number of months. The parents of the bride, in giving up their daughter, as they do when she marries, show the estimation in which they have held her by the beauty and completeness of the trousseau with which they provide her. The expense of this wedding outfit is often very great, persons even in the most moderate circumstances spending as much as one thousand yen upon the necessary purchases, and among the wealthy, four thousand to five thousand yen is not extravagant. As material wealth increases in Japan, there is a marked tendency to increase the style and cost of the trousseau, and the marriage of a daughter has come to be, in many cases, a severe strain on the family finances. But this outfit is of the nature of a dowry, for it is her very own; and in the event of a divorce, she brings back with her to her father’s house the clothing and household goods that she carried away as a bride.
[
64.](#APXanchor_64) For this visit the bride wears for the first time a dress made for her by her husband’s family and[438] bearing its crest, as a sign that she is now a member of that family and only a guest in her father’s house.
[
76.](#APXanchor_76)
Since the adoption of the new code, the conditions
of marriage and of divorce have been altered
for the better. At present no divorce is
possible except through the courts or through
mutual consent; the simple change of registration
by one party or the other does not constitute
a legal divorce. Even a divorce by mutual consent
cannot be arranged without the consent of
the parents or head of the family of a married
person who is under twenty-five years of age.
The grounds upon which judicial divorce may be
granted seem very trivial measured by European
standards, but, on the other hand, they are a distinct
gain over the former practice. The wife is
no longer dependent for her position simply upon
the whim of her husband, but, unless he can secure
her consent to the separation, he must formulate
charges of immorality or conviction of
crime, or of cruel treatment or grave insult on
the part of the wife or of her relatives, or of
desertion, or of disappearance for a period of
three years or more. Only when some such
charge has been made and proved before a court
can a husband send away his wife. In the case[439]
of a separation by mutual consent, though the
law still gives the care of the children to the father
in case no previous agreement has been made,
if a woman sees her way clear to supporting them,
she may stipulate for the custody of one or more
of them as a condition of her consent to the divorce.
In a judicial divorce, the judge may, in
the interests of the children, take them away from
their father and assign them to the care of some
other person.
In these changes we can see a distinct advance
toward permanence of the family tie; and we
can see, too, that the wife has gained a new
power to hold her own against injustice and
wrong. That when the people have become used
to these changes, other and more binding laws
will be enacted, we can feel pretty sure, for the
drift of enlightened public opinion seems to be in
favor of securing better and more firmly established
homes just as fast as “the hardness of their
hearts” will permit.
[
84.](#APXanchor_84)
It is difficult for us in America, who live under
customs and laws in which the individual is the
social unit and the family a union of individuals,
to understand a system of society in which the
individual is little or nothing and the family the
social unit recognized both by law and custom.[440]
In Japan, a man is simply a member of some
family, and his daily affairs, his marrying and
giving in marriage, are more or less under the
control of the head of his family, or of the family
council. Only in case he is the head of the family
is he able to marry without securing some one’s
consent, and then his responsibilities in regard to
the headship may in themselves hamper him. If
this is the case with the more independent man,
it may be imagined how completely the woman
is submerged under family influence. She may,
under exceptional circumstances, become the
head of a family, but this is usually only a temporary
expedient, and even then she must subordinate
herself more completely to the family
and its interests than when she occupies a lowlier
place.
The headship of an unmarried woman lasts
only until a husband has been selected for her,
and the headship of a widow lasts during her
guardianship of the rightful heir to the position.
By Japanese law a widow is always the guardian
of her minor children.
The only way in which individuality before
the law can be obtained by man or woman in
Japan is through cutting the tie that binds to the
family, and starting out in life afresh as the head
of a new family. This new family must always
be , or plebeian, no matter how high in[441]
rank may have been the family from which the
founder has gone out, but there is a continually
increasing number of young men and women who
prefer the freedom that comes from the headship
of a small and new family, even if of low rank,
to the state of tutelage or of hampering responsibility
which must accompany connection with a
larger and older social group. It seems likely
that through this means an evolution from the
family to the individual system will be effected,
as the nation grows more and more modernized
in its way of looking at things.
For the Japanese woman, as I have already
said, marriage is in most cases the entrance into
a new family. She is cut off from the old ways
and interests, in which she has until now had her
part, and she has begun life anew as the latest
addition to and therefore the lowest and most
ignorant member of another social group. It is
her duty simply to learn the ways and obey the
will of those above her, and it is the duty of
those above her, and especially of her husband’s
mother, to fit her by training and discipline for
her new surroundings. The physical strength of
the young wife, her sweetness of temper, her
manners, her morals, her way of looking at life,
are all put to the test by this sharp-eyed guardian
of the family interests, and woe to the
younger woman if she fail to come up to the[442]
standard set. She may be a good woman and
a faithful wife, but if, under the training given
her, she does not adapt herself readily to the
traditions and customs of the family she enters,
it is more than likely, even under the new laws,
that she may be sent back to her father’s house
as , and even her husband’s
love cannot save her. It is because of this predominance
of the family over the individual that
the young wife, when she enters her husband’s
home, is not, as in our own country, entering
upon a new life as mistress of a house, with absolute
control over all of her little domain.
[
115.](#APXanchor_115)
At the time of the celebration of his silver
wedding, in 1895, the Emperor came into the
Audience Room with the Empress on his arm,
an example which was followed by the Imperial
Princes.
With the engagement and marriage of the
Crown Prince, in May, 1900, an entirely new
precedent was established in the relations of the
Imperial couple. The Western idea of marriage
between equals has never existed in the Japanese
mind in its thought of the union between their
Emperor and Empress. The Empress, though
of noble family, was chosen from among the subjects
of the Emperor, and the marriage was of[443]
the nature of an appointment by the Emperor
to the position of Imperial Consort, just as any
other appointment might have been made of a
subject to fill an important position in the government.
In the marriage of the Crown Prince
a very different course was pursued. While no
departure was made from the old precedents in
the selection of a Princess from one of the five
families that trace their descent from Jimmu
Tenno, the whole manner of obtaining the bride
was different from anything that Japan had before
known. The Prince asked the father of the
young lady to give her to him just as a common
man might have done, and everything in the preliminary
arrangements was carried out with the
idea that by the marriage she was to be raised to
his rank and position. Reference has already
been made to the religious ceremony that was
devised for the occasion, an act that in itself
altered the meaning of marriage for the whole
nation.
Since the wedding, rumors have floated to the
world outside of the palace gates, of the kindness
and consideration with which the young wife is
treated by her husband. To the scandal of some
of the more old-fashioned of the Prince’s attendants,
the heir to the throne insists on observing
toward his wife, in private as well as in public,
all the minutiæ of Western etiquette. She enters
[444]the carriage ahead of him when they drive
together, they habitually take their meals together,
and he finds in her a cheerful companion
and friend, and not simply a devoted and humble
servant. In this way, by the highest example
that can be set to them, the Japanese people
are learning a new lesson.
All these things have a deep significance in
showing that the sacredness of the marriage tie
is gradually being recognized.
[
137.](#APXanchor_137) Something, indeed, may be said on the other side in regard to this system, which I seem to have painted as ideal. If in America we find the burden of expensive grown-up sons and daughters sometimes too heavy upon parents whose powers are on the wane, we must remember that in Japan a young man is often seriously handicapped at the beginning of his active life by the early retirement of his father from self-supporting labor, and that the young wife entering the home of her parents-in-law often finds a happy married life rendered impossible by the fact that she must please an elderly couple thoroughly fixed in their ways,—the rulers of the household and with little to do but rule. With this custom, as with all human customs, everything in the long run depends upon how it is[445] used, and without deep affection between parents and children there seems to be as much danger from the serious handicapping of the rising generation by selfish and inconsiderate parents in Japan, as there is in America of the wearing out of the older people’s lives and strength in the service of ungrateful and lazy children.
[
152.](#APXanchor_152) The bed on which the Empress sleeps is made of heavy , or quilts, of white wadded with silk wadding. The bedclothing consists of as many similar as the state of the weather may require. Every month new are provided for Her Majesty, and the discarded ones are given to one of her attendants. The happy recipient is thus provided with wadding enough for all her winter dresses for the rest of her life, as well as with a good supply of dress material.
[
157.](#APXanchor_157) Only those who have seen the inner life of the court can realize the difficulties which have attended every step of the Empress Haru’s way, for the court has been the scene of great struggles between the conservative and radical elements. Mean and petty jealousies have moved those surrounding the throne. The slightest word or[446] token from the Empress would be used as a weapon for private ends. To move among these varied and discordant factions, and to move for progress, without causing undue friction, has been a task more difficult than the conquest of armies, and to do so successfully has required almost infinite patience, sympathy, and love.
[
168.](#APXanchor_168)
And now, after thirty-three years of the enlightened
rule of the present Emperor, and of
the beneficent life and example of the Empress
Haru, is there any assurance that the progress
made during their occupation of the throne will
be continued in the lives of Japan’s future rulers?
Prince Haru, or Yoshihito, is now a man
twenty-two years of age, with character sufficiently
developed to be used as the basis for a
guess at what his qualities as a sovereign may
prove to be. “As far as the East is from the
West” have his life and education been from the
life and education of his illustrious father. Instead
of the curtained seclusion, the quiet and
calm of the old palace in the old capital, the present
Crown Prince has known from babyhood the
sights and sounds of the stirring city of Tōkyō.
He has driven in an open carriage or walked
through its streets; he has been to school with
boys of his own age, taking the school work and[447]
the drill and the games with the other boys,
learning to know men and things and himself
too, in a way in which none of his ancestors,
since the days when they were simply savage
chiefs, have had opportunity of knowing. As he
grew toward manhood, his delicate health required
that he leave the school and pursue his
studies as his strength permitted, under masters;
but he has retained his love for all athletic exercises,
for dogs and horses and guns and bicycles,
and he is as expert in outdoor sports as any youth
of Western training. His mind is quick and
eager, interested especially in foreign ways and
thoughts, and seeking most of all to understand
how other people think and feel and live. Though
he has been emancipated to a wonderful degree
from the state and ceremony that surrounded his
ancestors, he is nevertheless impatient of what
remains, and would gladly dispense with many
forms that his conservative guardians regard as
necessary; and these same guardians at times
find their young eaglet difficult to manage. He
has views and ideas of his own, and acts occasionally
upon his own initiative in a way that
fairly scandalizes his advisers. He wishes to
visit his future subjects upon something like
equal terms. The rôle of Son of Heaven seems
to him less interesting at times than some smaller
and more human part. When he walks, he wants[448]
to lead his own dog, not have him led by some
one else; to stop in the street and watch the common
people at their work; to drop in on his
friends in a neighborly way and see how they
live when they are not expecting a visit from
royalty. Provided he does not go too fast or too
far, when his turn comes to ascend the throne, he
cannot but make a better emperor for the intimate
personal knowledge that he is seeking and
gaining of the lives and feelings of his people.
The Crown Princess Sada, who has now been
for one year in the line of succession to the present
beloved Empress, shows in her training and
character the influence of the new impulse that is
driving Japan forward. The circumstances that
led to her selection as the bride of the Prince are
in themselves curious enough to be worth recording.
The Kujo family is one of the five families
from which alone can the wife of the Crown
Prince be chosen, and the present Prince Kujo
is blessed with many daughters. Of these, the
oldest is about the age of Prince Haru, and at
one time it was hoped that she might be selected
as his consort, but at last that hope was given up,
and she was married to another prince. The second
daughter was as bright and charming as the
first, but she was just enough younger than the
Prince to make her marriage with him so dangerous
a matter according to all the rules that[449]
govern good and bad luck in Japan, that no hope
was entertained for her, and she was married,
when her time came, with no reference to the
greatest match that any Japanese princess can
make. The third daughter was six years younger
than the Prince, so much younger that it was
thought that he would be married long before she
grew up, so no special care or attention was given
to her. In her babyhood, like most Japanese
babies of high rank, she was sent out into the
country to be nursed. Her foster parents were
plain farmer folk, who loved her and cared for
her as their own child. She played bareheaded
and barefooted in the sun and wind, tumbled
about, jolly and happy, with the village children,
and lived and grew like a kitten or a puppy rather
than like a future empress until she was old
enough for the kindergarten. Then she came
back to Tōkyō, to her father’s house, and from
there she attended the Peeresses’ School, going
backward and forward every day with her bundle
of books, and taking her share of the work
and play with the other children. In her school-days
she was noticeable for her great physical
activity and her hearty enjoyment of the outdoor
sports which form so important a part of the
training in Japanese schools for girls at present;
and for her strength of will and character among
a class of students upon whom self-repression[450]
amounting almost to self-abnegation has been inculcated
from earliest childhood.
When this little princess reached the age of
fifteen, the Crown Prince’s marriage, which had
been somewhat deferred on account of his ill-health,
was pressed forward, and to the extreme
surprise of her own family, and of many others
as well, the Princess Sada was chosen, largely on
account of her great physical vigor. Then began
a great change in her life. From being one of
the lowest and least considered in her family, she
was suddenly raised high above all the rest, even
her father addressing her as a superior. The
merry, romping school-girl was transformed in a
few days into the great lady, too grand to associate
on equal terms with any but the imperial
family. Small cause was there for wonder if she
shrank from the change and begged that the
honor might be bestowed on some one else. The
old free life was gone forever, and she dreaded
the heavy responsibility that was to fall upon her
slender shoulders.
The choice was made in August, 1899, and
from the moment that the engagement was entered
into, the Princess Sada became an honored
guest in her father’s house. She could no longer
play with her brothers and sisters, or take a meal
with any member of her own family. A new
and handsome suite of rooms was built for her,[451]
her old wardrobe was discarded and an entirely
new one provided for her, all her table service
was new and distinct from that of the rest of the
family, and she was addressed by all as if she
were already Empress. Her studies were not
given up, but masters were chosen for her who
came to her and instructed her, with due deference
to her high station, in the subjects that she
had been studying at school. So passed the nine
months of her engagement, and on May 8, 1900,
she became one of the principals in a state wedding
such as Japan had never before seen.
Through all the show and ceremony she acquitted
herself decorously and bravely, and since her
marriage no word save of approval of the young
wife has come out from the palace gates. Her
little sisters-in-law, the four small daughters of
the Emperor, enjoy nothing so much as to go and
spend the day with her, for she is so amusing,
and her life has been such a busy and happy one,
that she comes like a breath of fresh air into the
seclusion of the Court. Her young husband, too,
finds in her congenial society, and his frail health
seems to be daily strengthening with the brightness
that has come into his home.
Great was the joy in the empire when, on
April 29, 1901, this happy union was rendered
still happier by the birth of a strong little prince
to carry on the ancient line. By an auspicious[452]
coincidence, his birth came just at the time of
the annual boys’ feast, or Feast of Flags, and his
naming day was appointed for May 5, the great
day of the feast, when all Japan is decorated with
giant carp swinging from tall poles outside of
every house, and swimming vigorously at the
ends of their tethers in the strong spring wind.
The carp is to the Japanese mind the emblem
of courage and perseverance, for he swims up the
strongest current, leaping the waterfalls that oppose
his progress. The baby was named by his
grandfather, and will have the personal name of
Hirohito, and the title Prince Michi. With this
new little prince there are no polite fictions to
maintain, nor conventional relationships to be established.
He is the son of his father’s lawful
wife, as well as of his father. There is to be no
breaking off of natural ties, and his own mother
will nurse and care for him, a fortune that never
falls to the lot of the imperial son of a .
If he lives, he will be a standing argument in favor
of monogamy, even in noble families, and his
birth bodes well for family life throughout the
country.
[
182.](#APXanchor_182)
A pretty, but most shocking sight, if seen
through the eyes of some of these old-fashioned
attendants, is the semi-annual , or exercise
day of the Peeresses’ School. The large[453]
playground is, for this occasion, surrounded by
seats divided off to accommodate invited guests of
various ranks, who spend the day watching the
entertainment. In the most honorable place, surrounded
by her ladies-in-waiting, sits the Empress
herself, for the education of the daughters of the
nobles is a matter of the liveliest interest to her;
and the parents and friends and teachers of the
girls fill up all available seats after the school itself
has been accommodated.
The programme is usually a long one, occupying
the greater part of the morning and afternoon,
with an interval for lunch. Most of the ordinary
English field games—tennis, basket-ball, etc.—are
played with skill and vigor, and in addition to
these there are races of various kinds, devised to
show, not simply fleetness of foot, but quickness
of hand and wit as well. These races vary from
year to year, as the ingenuity of the directors of
the sports may be able to devise new forms of exercise.
One extremely pretty contest is as follows:
On the playground between the starting-point and
the goal are set at equal distances four upright
sticks for each runner. Four branches of cherry
blossoms and four bright-colored ribbons for each
contestant are laid on the ground at the starting-point.
At the signal, each girl picks up a cherry
branch and a ribbon, and runs to one of the upright
sticks, tying the flowers firmly thereto;[454]
then she runs back for a second branch, and so
on until all four have been fastened in place.
The race is won by the child who first reaches
the goal leaving behind her four blooming trees
where before there were bare poles. This seems
to be the æsthetic Japanese equivalent for our
prosaic potato race. Another contest is after
this manner: Along the course of each runner
are laid at certain intervals bright-colored balls,—a
different color for each contestant. The
object of the race is, within a certain time, to
pick up all the balls and throw them into the
nearly closed mouth of a great net at the far end
of the grounds. The contest is not decided
until the balls have been counted, when the girl
who has succeeded in getting the greatest number
of balls of her color into the net is declared the
winner. Another and extremely pretty race,
calling for great steadiness of hand and body, is
the running from one end of the ground to the
other with a ball balanced on a battledore. The
Japanese battledore is made of light but hard
wood, and is long and narrow in shape. If one
had not seen it done, it would be well-nigh impossible
to believe that any child could carry a
ball upon it for more than a few slow steps: but
these children run at a smart trot, keeping the
ball immovable upon its small and smooth surface.
Beside the games and races, there are calisthenic
[455]exhibitions, in which great precision of
motion and flexibility of body are manifested.
One of the most graceful and attractive of these
is the fan drill shown on this occasion, when
some twenty or thirty girls, with their bright-colored
dresses, long, waving sleeves, and red
, posture in perfect rhythm, with fans
opened or closed, waving above the head, held
before the face, changed from position to position,
with the performers’ changes of attitude,
each new figure seemingly more graceful than the
last.
In these and many other ways the nobility of
new Japan are being fitted for the new part that
they have to play in the world. No wonder that
the education now given, awakening the mind,
toughening the body, arousing ambition and individuality,
is regarded by many of the ultra-conservatives
as a dangerous innovation, and one
likely to bring the nobility down to the level of
the common people. Whether this new education
is better or worse than the old, we can hardly
tell as yet, but there are no signs of the immediate
breakdown of the old spirit of the nobility,
and the better health and stronger characters of
the young women who have received the modern
training promise much for the next generation.
[456]
[
192.](#APXanchor_192) While this was entirely true in 1890, it is interesting to observe that after ten years of commercial and industrial progress there are signs that the embroidered kimono is coming back into fashion. With the growth of large fortunes and of luxury that has marked the past decade, has come the custom of providing wedding garments as magnificently embroidered as were the robes of the daimiōs’ ladies, and even the or ceremonial dress, which was severely plain in 1890, now has little delicate embroidery about the bottom. It will not be surprising if some day, when the present growing commercial and industrial enterprise has reaped a more abundant harvest, Japan blooms forth again in the beautiful garments that went out of fashion when the great political upheaval cut off the revenues of the old nobility.
[
209.](#APXanchor_209) At each encroachment of the enemy those of the population who could not find refuge at once within the inner defenses were driven to choose between surrender and self-inflicted death. The unconquerable samurai spirit flamed out in the choice of hundreds of women and children as well as men, and whole families were wiped out[457] of existence at once, the little ones, who were too young to understand the proper method of , kneeling calmly with bowed heads for the death-stroke from father or brother which should free them from the disgrace of defeat.
[
223.](#APXanchor_223)
That the spirit of the samurai women is still
a living force in Japan, no one can doubt who listens
to the stories of what the women did and
bore in the Japan-China war of 1895. The old
self-sacrifice and devotion showed itself throughout
the country in deeds of real, if sometimes mistaken,
heroism. Husbands, sons, and brothers
were sent out to danger and death with smiles
and cheerful words, by women dependent upon
them for everything in a way that can hardly be
understood by Americans. Even tears of grief
for the dear ones offered in the country’s cause
were suppressed as disloyal, and women learned
with unmoved countenances of the death of those
they loved best, and found the courage to express,
in the first shock of bereavement, their sense of
the honor conferred on the family by the death
of one of its members in the cause of his country.
A few incidents quoted from an article by Miss
Umé Tsuda that appeared in the New York
“Independent” in 1895 will give my readers an
idea of the forms that this devotion assumed:—
[458]
“One instance comes into my mind of an old
lady who sent out cheerfully and with a smiling
face her young and only son, the sole stay of her
old age. Left a widow while young, she had
lived a life of much sorrow and trouble, and had
with almost superhuman efforts managed to give
her son an education that would start him in life.
It was only a few years ago that the son had begun
to help in the family support, and to be able
to repay to the mother her tender care of him.
Her pride in her son and his young wife was a
pleasure to see, and the little home they had together
seemed a safe haven for the coming years
of old age. Now, in a moment all this was
changed,—the son must start off for the wars.
Yet not for one instant was a cloud seen on the
mother’s face, as, smilingly and cheerfully, she
assisted in the preparations for his departure.
Not in public or in secret did one sigh or regret
escape her; not even to the son did a word of
anxiety pass her lips. Her face, beaming with
joy, looked with pride on the manly strength of
the young soldier as he started to fight for his
country and win honor for himself,—honor
which would surely come to him whether he
lived or died.
“Another woman who is well on in years, and
whose eldest son is a naval officer, furnishes an
interesting example of mother love. Though[459]
never showing her anxiety on his account, or
grief at his danger, she has taken upon herself,
in spite of her old age and by no means vigorous
health, to go on foot every morning to one of
the temples and worship there before daylight, in
order to propitiate the gods, that they may protect
her son. She arises at four o’clock in the
morning on the coldest of cold days, washes and
purifies herself with ice-cold water, and then
starts out before daylight for her three-mile walk
to the temple. Thus through wind and storm
and cold have the faith and love of this old woman
upheld her, and one is happy to add that so
far her prayers have been heard and no harm
has come to the one she has called on her gods
to protect.
“A touching story is told of the aged mother
of Sakamoto, commander of the warship Akagi,
who was killed in the thickest of the fight during
the great naval battle of the Yellow Sea. Commander
Sakamoto left an aged mother, a wife,
and three children. As soon as his death was
officially ascertained, a messenger was dispatched
from the naval department to convey the sad tidings
to his family. The communication was made
duly to his wife, and before the messenger had
left the house it reached the ears of the old mother,
who, tottering into the room where the officer
was, saluted and greeted him duly, and then,[460]
with dry eyes and a clear voice, said, ‘So it
seems by your tidings that my son has been of
some service this time.’
“One reads pathetic stories in the newspapers
daily in connection with the war. Not long ago
a sad account was given of a young woman, just
past her twentieth year, and only recently married
to an army officer. She had belonged by
birth to a military family, and, as befitted the
wife and daughter of a soldier, she resolved, on
hearing of the death of her husband, that she
would not survive him, but would follow him to
the great unknown. Sending away her servant
on some excuse, she remained alone in her home,
which she put into perfect order. Then she arranged
all her papers, wrote a number of letters,
and made her last preparations for death. She
dressed herself in full ceremonial dress as she
had been dressed for her bridal, and seated herself
before a large portrait of her husband. Then,
with a short dirk, such as is owned by every samurai
woman, she stabbed herself. In her last
letters she gives as the reason for her death that,
having no ties in the world, she would not survive
her husband, but wished to remain faithful to
him in death as she had been in life.
“Many such stories might be cited, but enough
has been given to show the spirit that exists in
Japan. With such women and such teachings[461]
in their homes, can it be wondered at that Japan
is a brave nation, and that her soldiers are winning
battles? Certainly some of the honor and
credit must be given to these wives and mothers
scattered throughout Japan, who are surely, in
some cases, the inspirers of that courage and
spirit which is just now surprising the world.”
[
239.](#APXanchor_239)
Much surprise is evinced by foreigners visiting
Japan at the lack of taste shown by the Japanese
in the imitation of foreign styles. And yet, for
these same foreigners, who condemn so patronizingly
the Japanese lack of taste in foreign things,
the Japanese manufacture pottery, fans, scrolls,
screens, etc., that are most excruciating to their
sense of beauty, and export them to markets in
which they find a ready sale, their manufacturers
wondering, the while, why foreigners want such
ugly things. The fact is that neither civilization
has as yet come into any understanding of the
other’s æsthetic side, and the sense of beauty of
the one is a sealed book to the other. The Japanese
nation, in its efforts to adopt foreign ways,
has been, up to the present time, blindly imitating,
with little or no comprehension of underlying
principles. As a result there is an absolute
crudeness in foreign things as attempted in Japan
that grates on the nerves of travelers fresh from
the best to be found in Europe or America.
[462]
There are signs, however, that the stage of
imitation is past and that adaptation has begun.
Here and there in Tōkyō may be seen buildings
in which the solidity of foreign architecture has
been grafted upon the Japanese type. Ten years
ago, Japanese men who adopted foreign dress
went about in misfitting garments, soiled linen,
untidy shoes, and hats that had been discarded
by the civilization for which they were made
many seasons before they reached Japan. They
wore Turkish towels about their necks and red
blankets over their shoulders at the desire of unscrupulous
importers, who persuaded them that
towels for neck-cloths and blankets for overcoats
were the latest styles of London and Paris. To-day
one sees no such eccentricities of costume in
the purely Japanese city of Tōkyō. Men who
wear foreign dress wear it made correctly in
every particular by Japanese tailors, shoemakers,
and hatters. The standard has been attained, for
men at least, and in foreign dress as well as in
Japanese, the natural good taste of the people has
begun to assert itself. So it will be in time with
other new things adopted. As no single element
of the Chinese civilization secured a permanent
footing in Japan except such as could be adapted,
not only to the national life, but to the national
taste as well, so it will be with European things.
All things that are adopted will be adapted, and[463]
whatever is adapted is likely in time to be improved
and made more beautiful by the national
instinct for beauty. During the transition, enormities
are omitted and monstrosities are constructed,
but when the standard is at last attained,
we may expect that the genius of the race will
triumph over the difficulties that it is now encountering.
Individual Japanese who have lived
long in Europe or America show the same nice
discrimination in regard to foreign things that
they do in their Japanese surroundings, and are
rarely at fault in their taste. What is true of
the individual now will be true of the nation when
European standards have become common property.
[
242.](#APXanchor_242)
In the remote mountain regions, where the
majesty and uncertainty of the great natural
forces impress themselves constantly upon the
minds of the peasantry, one finds a simple nature
worship, and a desire to propitiate all the unseen
powers, that is not so evident in the daily life of
the dwellers in more populous and progressive
parts of the country. As the mountains close in
about the road that runs up from the plains below,
a great stone, on which is deeply carved
“To the God of the Mountains,” calls the attention
of the traveler to the fact that the supernatural
is a recognized power among the mountaineers.
[464]In such regions one finds the stated offerings
at the shrines which stand near the wayside
kept constantly renewed. Nearly every house is
protected by some slip of paper pasted above the
door, a charm obtained by toilsome pilgrimage to
some noted temple. Behind or near the village
temple one may see rude wigwams of straw, each
sheltering a ,[45]—witnesses to the vows of
devotees who hope, sooner or later, to erect small
wooden shrines and so win favor from the unknown
rulers of human destinies. In places where
pack-horses form a large part of the wealth of the
people, stones to the horses’ spirits are erected,
and the halters of all the horses that die are left
upon these stones. Prayers, too, are offered to
the guardian spirits of the living horses, before
stones on which are carved sometimes the image
of a horse bearing a on his back, sometimes
a rough figure of the horse-headed Kwannon. To
such stones or shrines are brought horses suffering
from sickness of any kind, and the hand is rubbed
first on the stone and then on the part of the animal
supposed to be affected. In one district, when
a horse epidemic broke out, its rapid spread was
attributed by the authorities to this custom, and
all persons were warned of the danger, with what[465]
effect in breaking up the ancient habit the newspaper
reports failed to say. It is in such regions
as this that the and the [46] still live in
the every-day thought of the people; it is here,
too, that the old custom of offering flowers and
fruit to the spirits of the dead at the midsummer
festival is most conscientiously kept up. All possible
spirits are included in these offerings, so
that even by the roadside one finds bunches of
flowers set up in the clefts of the rock, to the
spirits of travelers who have died on the way.
In one little mountain resort, far from the railroad
but in touch with the outside world through
the hundreds of visitors that seek its hot baths
during the summer, it was my good fortune to
spend a few weeks recently. Our walks were
rather limited in variety, as the village lay in an
almost inaccessible mountain valley through
which a carefully engineered road ran along the
edge of the river gorge. About half a mile out
of the village, close to the road and overhanging
the waters of the river at a spot where the rocks
were so worn and carved by the rushing torrent[466]
as to have gained the appropriate title of the
“Screen Rocks,” was a little shop and a tea-house.
It was a pleasant resting-place after a warm and
dusty walk, and almost daily we would halt there
for a cup of tea and a slice of , or bean marmalade,
before returning to our rooms in the
hotel. The managers of the place were an old
man and his wife, who divided their labor between
the shop and the tea-house. The old man
was an artist in roots. His life was devoted to
searching out grotesquely shaped roots on the
forest-covered hills, and whittling, turning, and
trimming them into the semblance of animal or
human forms. and goblins, long-legged
birds and short-legged beasts, all manner of
weird products of his imagination and his handiwork,
peopled the interior of the little shop, and
he was always ready to welcome us and show us
his latest work, with the pride of an artist in his
masterpiece.
His wife, a cheery old woman, attended to the
tea-house, and as soon as we had seated ourselves,
bustled about to bring us cool water from the
spring that bubbled out of the rocks across the
road, and to set before us the tiny cups of straw-colored
tea and the delicious slices of which
we soon learned was the specialty of the place.
She was glad to have a little gossip as we sipped
and nibbled, telling us many interesting bits of[467]
folklore about the immediate locality. It was from
her that we learned that the pinnacle of rock that
dominated the village was built by long ago,
though now they were all gone from the woods,
for she had looked for them often at night when
she went out to shut the house, but she had never
seen one,—and even the monkeys were becoming
scarce. She it was, too, who sent us to look for
the mysterious draught of cold air that crossed
the road near the base of the great rock, colder
on hot days than on cool ones, and at all times astonishing,—the
“Tengu’s Wind Hole.” We
learned through her about the snakes to be found
in the woods, and of the wonderful tonic virtues
of the (the one poisonous snake of
Japan), if caught and bottled with a sufficient
quantity of . The may be renewed
again and again, and the longer the snake has
been bottled the more medicinal does it become,
so that one may, if used perseveringly,
medicate several casks of . We had opportunity
later to verify her statements, for we found
at a small grocery store, where we stopped to add
a few delicacies to our somewhat scanty bill of
fare, two snakes, neatly coiled in quart bottles
and pickled in , one of which could be obtained
for the sum of seventy-five sen, though the
other, who in his rage at being bottled had buried
his fangs in his own body, commanded a higher[468]
price because of his courage. We did not feel in
need of a tonic that day, so left the on
the grocery shelves, but it is probable that their
disintegrating remains are being industriously
quaffed to-day by some elderly Japanese whose
failing strength demands an unfailing remedy.
When our little friend had learned of our interest
in snakes, she was on the lookout for snake
stories of all kinds. One day she stopped us as
we came by rather later than usual, hurrying
home before a threatening shower, to tell us that
we ought to have come a little sooner, for the
great black snake who was the messenger of the
god that lived on the mountain had just been by,
and we might have been interested to see him.
She had seen him before, herself, so he was no
novelty to her, but she was sure that the matter
would interest us. Poor little old lady, with her
kindly face and pleasant ways, and her friendly
cracked voice. Her firm belief in all the uncanny
and supernatural things that wiser people
have outgrown brought us face to face with the
childhood of our race, and drew us into sympathy
with a phase of culture in which all nature is
wrapped in inscrutable mystery.
[
264.](#APXanchor_264)
Each year that passes sees a few more stores
adopting the habit of fixed prices, not to be altered
by haggling.
[469]
[
282.](#APXanchor_282)
On another occasion the good offices of the
fortune-teller were sought concerning a marriage,
and the powerful arranger of human destinies
discovered that though everything else was favorable,
the bride contracted for was to come
from a quarter quite opposed to the luck of the
bridegroom. This was no laughing matter, as
the bride was of a noble family and the breaking
of the engagement would be attended with much
talk and trouble on both sides; but, on the other
hand, the family of the bridegroom dared not face
the danger so mysteriously prophesied by the
fortune-teller. In this predicament, there was
nothing to do but to pull the wool over the eyes
of the gods as best they might. For this purpose
the bride with all her belongings was sent the day
before the wedding from her father’s house to that
of an uncle living in another part of the city, and
on the morning of the wedding-day she came to
her husband from a quarter quite favorable to his
fortunes. It seems quite probable that the gods
were taken in by this somewhat transparent subterfuge,
for no serious evil has befallen the young
couple in three years of married life.
[470]
[
317.](#APXanchor_317) To the American mind this method of terminating relations is always irritating and frequently embarrassing, but in Japan any discomfort is to be endured rather than the slightest suspicion of bad manners. If the foreign visitor is trying to learn to be a good Japanese, she must submit patiently when the servant solemnly engaged fails to appear at the appointed hour, sending a letter instead to say that she is ill; or when the woman upon whom she is depending to travel with her the next day to the country receives a telegram calling her to the bedside of a mythical son, and departs, bag and baggage, at a moment’s notice, leaving her quondam mistress to shift for herself as best she may.
[
318.](#APXanchor_318) Among the many changes that have come over Japan in the transition from feudalism to the conditions of modern life, there is none that Japanese ladies regard with greater regret than the change in the servant question. As the years go by and new employments open to women, it becomes increasingly difficult to engage and keep servants of the old-time, faithful, intelligent sort. Notwithstanding increased pay, and the still existing conditions of considerate treatment, comfortable[471] homes, and light work, it is hard to fill places vacated, even in noble households: and there is almost as much shaking of heads and despondent talk over the servant question in Japan to-day as there is in America.
[
322.](#APXanchor_322) It is interesting to note that it is to the quickness and courage of a jinrikisha man who interposed between him and his would-be assassin that the present Czar of Russia owes his escape from death at Otsu, near Kyōtō, in 1891.
Footnotes:
[45] , a piece of white paper, cut and folded in a peculiar manner, one of the sacred symbols of the Shintō faith. [46] , a winged, long-nosed or beak-mouthed monster, supposed to inhabit the mountain regions of Japan. It was from a that Yoshitsune, one of the greatest of Japanese heroes, learned to fence, and so became a swordsman of almost miraculous expertness. , a demon or goblin. [472]
EPILOGUE.
My task is ended. One half of Japan,
with its virtues and its frailties, its privileges
and its wrongs, has been brought,
so far as my pen can bring it, within the
knowledge of the American public. If,
through this work, one person setting forth
for the Land of the Rising Sun goes better
prepared to comprehend the thoughts,
the needs, and the virtues of the noble,
gentle, self-sacrificing women who make
up one half the population of the Island
Empire, my labor will not have been in
vain.
[473]
INDEX.
- Adoption, 103, 112, 187.
- Agility of Japanese, 13.
- Ai, love, 415.
- Amado, sliding wooden shutters used to inclose a Japanese house at night, 23.
- Amulets, 329.
- Andon, a standing lamp inclosed in a paper case, 89.
- Ané San, or Né San, elder sister ( the honorific), a title used by the younger children in a family in speaking to their eldest sister, 20.
- Aoyama, 131.
- Apprentices, 309, 310.
- Art in common things, 237-239, 462, 463.
- Artisans, 235-239, 270.
- Babies, 1-17;
- bathing, 10;
- conditions of life, 6, 7;
- dress, 6, 15;
- food, 10, 11;
- imperial babies, 8, 9;
- learning to talk, 16;
- learning to walk, 13, 14;
- of lower classes, 7;
- of middle classes, 8;
- of nobility, 8;
- skin troubles, 11;
- teething, 12;
Baby carriages, 424.
- Baths, public, 10.
- Beauty, Japanese standard of, 58;
- early loss of, 122.
- Bé bé, a child’s word for dress, 16.
- Bed, the Empress’s, 446.
- Betrothal, 60.
- Bettō, a groom or footman who cares for the horse in the stable and runs ahead of it on the road, 62, 71, 311, 316, 319.
- Bible, circulation of, in Japan, 412-414.
- Birth, 1.
- Boys, amusements of, 362-370.
- Breakfast, 89.
- Brothels. Jōroya.
- Buddha’s birthday, 365.
- Buddhism, 168, 240;
- affected by Christianity, 417-421;
- introduction of, 143-145.
- Buddhist funerals, 131, 132, 347.
- Buddhist nuns, 155.
- Buddhist priest, story of a, 418-421.
- Building, 333-335.
- Butsudan, the household shrine used by Buddhists, 323.
- Castles, 151, 157, 169, 171, 173, 174, 185, 186, 192.
- Chadai, literally “tea money,” the fee given at an inn, 251-253.
- Cherry blossoms, 28, 146, 166, 176, 177, 191, 295, 296.
- Childhood. Girlhood.
- Children, intellectual characteristics of Japanese, 41;
- Japanese compared with American, 19.
- Chinese characters, 40.
- Chinese civilization introduced, 142.
- Chinese code of morals, 103, 111.
- Christian ideas, progress of, 402-421.
- Christianity, 77, 81, 168, 206, 207.
- Christians, Japanese, 404.
- Chrysanthemum, 166, 296-298.
- Civilization, new, 77.
- Clubs, women’s, 391.
- Concubinage, 85, 111.
- Confectionery, 146.
- Confucius, 103, 168.
- Constitution, promulgation of the, 114, 276.
- Corea, conquest of, 139-143.
- Country and city, 278, 279.
- Court, after conquest of Corea, 143-146;
- [474]
amusements of, [145](#Page_145);
- costumes, 146;
- in early times, 138, 139;
- ladies, 145, 148, 152-154;
- life, 138-168;
- of daimiō, 171;
- of Shōgun, 170, 171;
- removal to Tōkyō, 156.
- Courtship, 58.
- Crown Prince’s wedding, the, 434, 442-445, 449-453.
- Crucifixion, 199, 234.
- Daikoku, the money god, 332.
- Dai jobu, “Safe,” “All right,” 320.
- Daimiō, a member of the landed nobility under the feudal system, 169-195;
- his castles, 169;
- his courts, 17;
- his daughters, 175, 177, 180, 182-184, 191, 192-195;
- his journeys to Yedo, 171-173;
- his retainers, 169, 171, 173, 175, 177-179, 181, 183, 185, 186;
- his wife, 175, 177, 182, 192-195;
- seclusion of, 172-174.
- Dancing, 38, 287, 288.
- Dancing girls. Géisha.
- Dango Zaka, 296.
- Dashi, a float used in festival processions, 275-278, 366-369.
- Days, lucky and unlucky, 331.
- Decency, Japanese standard of, 255-260.
- Deformity, caused by position in sitting, 9.
- Diet, changes in, 424.
- Divorce, among lower classes, 66, 69, 73;
- among higher classes, 66, 68;
- effect of recent legislation on, 374, 439;
- new laws, 438, 439;
- right to children in case of, 67, 105, 439.
- Dress, baby, 6, 15;
- court, 145, 146;
- in daimiōs’ houses, 187, 192;
- military, of samurai women, 188;
- of lower classes, 126-128;
- of pilgrims, 243;
- present tendencies, 457;
- showing age of wearer, 119.
- Education, higher, a doubtful help, 79;
- effect on home life, 77;
- producing repugnance to marriage, 80.
- Education of daimiō’s daughter, 177-180.
- Education of girls, 37-56;
- action and reaction in, 433, 434;
- difficulties in new system, 52-56;
- fault in Japanese system, 39;
- in old times, 37.
- Embroidered robes, 95, 146, 188, 192, 456.
- Emperor, 111, 114, 134, 151-153, 155-157, 161, 164-166, 292.
- Emperors, after introduction of Chinese civilization, 143-145;
- children of, 164;
- daughters of, 155;
- early retirement of, 134;
- in early times, 138;
- seclusion of, 143-145, 155, 156, 161, 169.
- Empress, 88, 115, 140, 150-168.
- Empress, Dowager, 152.
- Engawa, the piazza that runs around a Japanese house, 23.
- Etiquette, court, 153;
- in daimiōs’ houses, 177-179;
- in the home, 19, 20;
- instruction in, 46, 47;
- of leaving service, 316, 317;
- towards servants, 304, 305.
- Factory workers, women, 399 .
- Fairy tales, 32.
- Family, organization of, 139, 439-442.
- Fancy work, 95.
- Father’s relation to children, 100.
- Feast of Flags, 363, 364;
- of Lanterns, 358-362;
- of the Dead, 358-362;
- of Dolls, 28-31, 428-430.
- Firemen, 335, 338, 339.
- Flirtation, unknown to Japanese girls, 34.
- Flower arrangement, 42.
- Flower painting, 47, 432.
- Flower shows, 270-272.
- Fortune-telling, 281-285, 331-333, 470.
- Fuji, 58, 242.
- Fukuzawa, his book on the woman question, 387-391;
- [475] his will, 345.
- Funeral customs, 131, 132, 339-349.
- Furushiki, a square of cloth used for wrapping up a bundle, 354.
- Games, battledore and shuttlecock, 31, 32;
- at court, 145;
- go, 136;
- hyaku nin isshu, 26, 27;
- shogi, 136.
- Géisha, a professional dancing and singing girl, 286-289.
- Géisha ya, an establishment where géishas may be hired, 286.
- Géta, a wooden clog, 13, 14.
- Ginza, 265.
- Girlhood, 17-34.
- Gohei, a piece of white paper folded and cut in a peculiar manner, one of the sacred symbols of the Shintō faith, 464.
- Hakama, the kilt-pleated trousers that formed a part of the dress of every Japanese gentleman, also the skirt worn by school-girls over the kimono, 433, 456.
- Haori, a coat of cotton, silk, or crêpe, worn over the kimono, 8.
- Hara-kiri, suicide by stabbing in the abdomen, 201, 202.
- Haru, Prince, 113, 152, 442-444, 446-452.
- Haru, Empress, 155-168.
- Héimin, the class of farmers, artisans, and merchants, 203, 228, 229;
- class characteristics of, 229-240, 464-468.
- Hibachi, a brazier for burning charcoal, 30, 72, 136, 307.
- Hidéyoshi. Toyotomi.
- Hinin, a class of paupers, 228.
- Hiyéi Zan, 243.
- Holidays, 269.
- Hotel-keepers, 280, 281.
- Hotels, 247-250.
- Household duties, training for, 21.
- Household worship, 328.
- Hyaku nin isshu, “Poems of a Hundred Poets,” the name of a game, 26.
- Inkyo, a place of retirement, the home of a person who has retired from active life, 136.
- Instruction, in etiquette, 46;
- in flower arranging, 42;
- in music, 41, 431;
- in painting, 47, 432;
- in reading and writing, 38;
- in tea ceremony, 44.
- Inu, a dog, 250.
- Isé, 231.
- Iwafuji, 210-213.
- Iwakura, Prince, 157.
- Iya, a child’s word, denoting dislike or negation, 16.
- Iyémitsŭ, 171, 172.
- Iyéyasŭ, 169.
- Japan-China war, 458-462.
- Japanese language, 16, 40, 179.
- Japanese literature, 147-150.
- Jimmu Tenno, 138.
- Jin, benevolence, 415.
- Jingo Kōgō, 139-143, 147.
- Jinrikisha, a light carriage drawn by one or more men, and which will hold one or two persons, 26, 70, 92, 268, 272, 320, 321.
- Jinrikisha man, 26, 62, 69, 92, 108, 270, 279, 299, 316, 319-324, 473.
- Jishi, mercy, 415.
- Jōrō, a prostitute, 289-292, 406-411.
- Jōroya, a house of prostitution, 290-292, 406-411.
- Kaibara’s “Great Learning of Women,” 387, 389, 391.
- Kakémono, a hanging scroll, 44, 147, 238.
- Kaméido, 296.
- Kami-dana, “god-shelf,” the household shrine used by Shintō worshippers, 328.
- Kana, Japanese phonetic characters, 40 , 430.
- Katsuobushi, a kind of dried fish, 5.
- Kimono, a long gown with wide sleeves and open in front, worn by Japanese of all classes, 7, 94, 188, 192, 287.
- Kisses, 36.
- Knees, flexibility of, 9.
- Kotatsu, a charcoal fire in a brazier or small fireplace in the floor, over which a wooden frame is set, and the whole covered by a quilt, 33.
- [476] Koto, a musical instrument, 42.
- Kugé, the court nobility, 155, 170.
- Kura, a fire-proof storehouse, 147, 171, 173.
- Kuruma, a wheeled vehicle of any kind, used as synonymous with jinrikisha.
- Kurumaya, one who pulls a kuruma. Jinrikisha man.
- Kurushima, 203.
- Kyōtō, 156, 171, 240, 241.
- Ladies, court, 145, 148, 152-154;
- of daimiōs’ families, 175-180, 182-184.
- Loyalty, 33, 75, 197, 206-208, 217, 302-304.
- Mam ma, a baby’s word for rice or food, 16.
- Mamushi, a poisonous snake, 467, 468.
- Manners of children, 18.
- Manzai, exorcists who drive devils out of the houses at New Year’s time, 357.
- Marriage, 57-83;
- ceremony, 61, 63, 435, 436;
- feast, 63;
- festivities after, 63, 64, 437;
- guests, 63;
- presents, 62, 435;
- registration, 65;
- to yōshi, 104;
- trousseau, 61, 436.
- Marumagé, a style of arranging the hair of married ladies, 119.
- Matsuri, a festival, usually in honor of some god, 274-278, 366-370.
- Matsuri, Shobu, feast of flags, 363, 364.
- Méiji (Enlightened Rule), the name of the era that began with the accession of the present Emperor in 1868, 149.
- Mékaké, a concubine, 111-114.
- Men, old, dependence of, 133;
- amusements of, 136.
- Merchants, 262-269, 469.
- Military service of women, 188-190, 208, 223.
- Missionary schools, 56.
- Miya mairi, the presentation of the child at the temple when it is a month old. The term is also used to describe the visits to the temple at the ages of three, five, and seven, 3-6, 425-427.
- Mochi, a kind of rice dumpling, 4, 24, 25, 65, 352, 353.
- Momotaro, 33.
- Mon, a family crest, 366.
- Montsuki, a kimono bearing the crest of the wearer, 457.
- Morality, standards of, 76.
- Mother, her relation to her children, 99-102.
- Mother-in-law, 84, 87;
- O Kiku’s, 74.
- Moving, 335-337.
- Mukōjima, 191, 295.
- Music, 41, 42, 430-432.
- Names, 3, 423.
- Nara, 247.
- Né San. Ané San.
- New Year, preparation for, 349-356;
- festival of, 25-27, 356-358.
- Nikkō, 231, 245.
- No, a pantomimic dance, 292, 293.
- Norimono, a palanquin, 30.
- Noshi, a bit of dried fish, usually folded in colored paper, given with a present for good luck, 2.
- Nurses, trained, 398.
- Nursing the sick, 101.
- O, an honorific used before many nouns, and before most names of women, 20.
- O Bā San, grandmother, 124.
- O Bă San, aunt, 124.
- Obi, a girdle or sash, 60, 435.
- O Bon, the feast of the dead, 358-362.
- Occupations, of the blind, 42;
- of the court, 143-150;
- of the daimiōs’ ladies, 175-180;
- of the Empress, 156-160;
- of old people, 120-122, 124-128, 136;
- of samurai women, 223, 224;
- of servants, 299, 304, 306, 308-315, 318;
- of women, 85-103, 108-110, 242-256, 279-292, 306, 307, 310-318, 397-402;
- of young girls, 21-34, 38-47.
- O Haru, 211-213.
- Oishi, 198, 214.
- Oji, 296.
- O Jō Sama, young lady, 20.
- [477] O kaeri, “Honorable return,” a greeting shouted by the attendant upon the master’s or mistress’s return to the house, 100, 315.
- O Kaio, 324-326.
- O Kiku’s marriage and divorce, 73, 74.
- Okuma, Count, 203;
- his speech on education, 382.
- Old men, 133, 136.
- O miyagé, a present given on returning from a journey or pleasure excursion, 274.
- Oni, a devil or goblin, 33, 466.
- Onoyé, 210, 213.
- Palace, new, 151-153.
- Parents, duties to, 134;
- respect for, 133;
- disadvantages in Japanese system, 445.
- Parents-in-law, 84, 87.
- Peasant women, 108, 240-261.
- Peasantry, 228-240.
- Philanthropic efforts, 415-417, 418-421.
- Physical culture in schools, 433, 453-456.
- Physicians’ fees, 204.
- Pilgrims, 241, 242.
- Pillow, 89.
- Pleasure excursions, 99.
- “Poems of a hundred poets,” 26.
- Poetry, 26, 148-150.
- Presents, 96;
- after a wedding, 65;
- at betrothal, 60, 435;
- at miya mairi, 4;
- at New Year’s, 353-355;
- at O Bon, 358;
- at weddings, 62;
- how wrapped, 2;
- in honor of a birth, 1;
- of eggs, 2, 5;
- of money, 204, 205;
- on returning from a journey, 274;
- to servants, 311, 315.
- Prisoners’ Home in Tōkyō, 413.
- Prostitutes. Jōrō.
- Prostitution, houses of. Jōroya.
- Purity of Japanese women, 216-219.
- Reading of women, 385-387.
- Red Cross Society, 398, 416.
- Religion of peasantry, 464-466.
- Retirement from business, 133.
- Retirement of Emperors, 134.
- Revenge, 198, 210-214.
- Revolution of 1868, 76, 221.
- Rice, red bean, 3, 5, 65.
- Rin, one tenth of a sen, or about one half mill, 240.
- Rōnin, a samurai who had lost his master and owed no allegiance to any daimiō, 198, 213.
- Sada, Princess, 449-453.
- Sakaki, the Cleyera Japonica, 98.
- Saké, wine made from rice, 22, 63, 136, 296;
- white, 29.
- Salvation Army’s attack on jōroya, 408-411.
- Sama, or San, an honorific placed after names, equivalent to Mr., Mrs., or Miss, 20, 73, 124, 136, 232, 283, 284, 304.
- Samisen, a musical instrument, 42, 127, 277, 286.
- Samurai, the military class, 42, 75, 76, 105, 169, 174, 175, 180, 196-227, 232, 263, 302, 303, 307, 319;
- character of, 197-207.
- Schools, missionary, 56.
- Self-possession of Japanese girls, 47.
- Self-sacrifice, 214-219.
- Sen, one hundredth part of a yen, value about five mills, 240, 273, 298.
- Servants, characteristics of, 209-302;
- duties of, 302-315;
- in employ of foreigners, 299-302;
- number employed, 310, 311;
- position of, 302-310;
- wages, 311.
- Sewing, 23, 94.
- Shirōzaké, a sweet white saké used at the feast of dolls, 427.
- Shogi, Japanese chess, 136.
- Shōgun, or Tycoon, the Viceroy or so-called temporal ruler of Japan under the feudal system, 155, 169, 171, 173, 176, 185, 186, 191, 194, 197, 208, 224, 231-234, 292;
- [478] daughter of, 176, 194.
- Shōgunate, 155, 190, 192, 221, 222.
- Shoji, sliding windows covered with white paper, 23, 71.
- Shopping, 264-268.
- Sho-séi, a student, 308.
- Silk mosaic, 95, 192.
- Silkworms, 95, 246.
- Soba, a kind of macaroni made of buckwheat, 336.
- Soroban, an abacus, 266-268.
- Sumida River, 173, 295.
- Tabi, a mitten-like sock, 13.
- Ta ta, a baby’s word for sock or tabi, 16.
- Taiko Sama. Toyotomi.
- Tea, 91, 92;
- ceremonial, 44, 136, 176, 432.
- Teaching. Instruction.
- Teeth, blackened after marriage, 63.
- Temple, 4, 120, 129, 240.
- Tengu, a monster in Japanese folklore, 466, 468.
- Theatre, 33, 99, 292-294.
- Titles used in families, 20.
- Toes, prehensile, 15.
- Toilet apparatus, 30.
- Tōkaidō, 241.
- Tokonoma, the raised alcove in a Japanese room, 44.
- Tokugawa, 29, 151, 155, 231.
- Tōkyō, 49, 69-71, 108, 115.
- Tōkyō Mail, 231.
- Tombs, 98.
- Toyotomi Hidéyoshi, 232.
- Training-schools for nurses, 158, 398.
- Trousseau, 61, 436.
- Tsuda, Miss Umé, viii, 458.
- Utsunomiya, 70, 71.
- Uyéno Park, 296.
- Virtue, Japanese and Western ideas of, 215-219.
- Visits, after marriage, 63;
- in honor of a birth, 1, 2;
- New Year’s, 25;
- to a house of mourning, 340;
- to parents, 98;
- to tombs, 98, 359.
- Voice in singing, 430-432.
- Wakamatsu, 208, 222, 457.
- Wedding. Marriage.
- Widows, childless, 123.
- Wife, childless, 102;
- duties of, 85-99;
- in great houses, 92;
- relation to husband, 84;
- relation to parents-in-law, 84;
- social relations, 91.
- Woman question, new feeling about, 371-373.
- Women, general reading of, 386;
- in the city, 279-298;
- new openings for, 397-402;
- occupations of, 85-103, 108-110, 242-256, 279-292, 306, 307, 310-318, 397-402;
- position of, 17-22, 35, 36, 57, 65-68, 76-88, 90, 91, 93, 99-118, 120-124, 132, 133, 139, 143, 145, 146, 148, 168, 189, 190, 208, 216-219, 223-227, 242-247, 260, 261, 279, 292, 298, 306, 318, 371-378, 438-440;
- property rights of, 374-378;
- publications for, 385-391;
- purity of, 216-219;
- the new woman in old surroundings, 392-397.
- Written language, proposed reforms in, 430.
- Yamato Daké, 215.
- Yasaku, 324;
- marriage and divorce of, 69-73.
- Yasé, 243, 244.
- Yashiki, a daimiō’s mansion and grounds, 169, 171, 173, 311, 313.
- Yedo. Tōkyō.
- Yōshi, an adopted son, 104.
- Yoshiwara, a district in Tōkyō given over to disreputable houses, 409.
- Zodiac, Chinese signs of the, 331.
Zori, a straw sandal, 13.
Transcriber’s Note:
Except where index entries and the body of the text did not match, irregularities in hyphenation (e.g. kwankoba and kwan-ko-ba), italics, and spellings (e.g. vendors and venders) have not been changed. Except where noted below, inconsistent accents (e.g. jōroya vs. jōrōya) have been retained.
The following corrections and changes were made:p. 120: marumage to marumagé (The , the style of headdress of married ladies)
- p. 175: daimios’ to daimiōs’ (and daimiōs’ houses)
- p. 351: kakemonos to kakémonos (the kakémonos and curios)
- p. 383: Meiji to Méiji (thirty-fourth year of Méiji)
- p. 427: miyage to miyagé (the to be purchased)
- p. 428: shirozaké to shirōzaké (The (white ))
- p. 429: accents added to Shōguns, Shōgun’s, and Shōgunate
- p. 437: oufit to outfit (But this outfit)
- p. 440: heimin to héimin (, or plebeian)
- p. 473: Bé-bé to Bé bé (Index entry)
- p. 475: Index entry for “Girlhood, 17-34.” added (Index entry “Childhood. Girlhood.” originally pointed to non-existent entry)
- p. 475: Iyemitsŭ to Iyémitsŭ (Index entry)
- p. 475: Iyeyasŭ to Iyéyasŭ (Index entry)
- p. 476: fireproof to fire-proof (Index: Kura, a fire-proof storehouse)
- p. 476: Jo to Jō (Index: O Jō Sama, young lady)
- p. 477: Onouyé to Onoyé (Index entry)
- p. 478: folk-lore to folklore (Index: Tengu, a monster in Japanese folklore)
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