Japanese Girls and Women
by Alice Mabel Bacon · English · Gutenberg #32449 · 583,813 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Japanese Girls and Women
Author: Alice Mabel Bacon
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Language: English
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[Transcriber's Note:
For the Latin-1 version of this e-book, letters with a macron over them
have been represented as [=o], and letters with a breve as [)u].
Page numbers from the original book have been added to asterisks that
indicate notes in the Appendix (e.g. [*3]) in order to make it easier to
match them to their corresponding notes. Page 61 has two notes: [*61a]
and [*61b]. Footnotes are in the same format, without the asterisks
(e.g. [1], [2])
Please see the end of this book for more detailed notes on the text.]
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.
_Holiday Edition._ 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, _net_.
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
JAPANESE GIRLS AND
WOMEN
BY
ALICE MABEL BACON
_REVISED AND ENLARGED EDITION_
[Illustration]
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
The Riverside Press Cambridge
Copyright, 1891, 1902,
BY ALICE MABEL BACON.
_All rights reserved._
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
_IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED_.
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.
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,
_November, 1902_.
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 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 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 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 T[=o]ky[=o], 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 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., _February, 1891_.
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 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.
[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 _noshi_, or bit of dried fish, daintily folded in a piece of colored
paper, which is an indispensable accompaniment of every present.
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 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.
[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]
The next important event in the baby's life is the _miya mairi_, a
ceremony which corresponds roughly with our christening. On the
thirtieth day after birth,[*4] 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.
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 _mochi_, 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 _katsuobushi_, 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 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 the same pattern, and that pattern
the same in shape as the grown-up _kimono_. 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 weathers. When it is cold, the sister's _haori_, 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.[*8]
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 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]
[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.
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 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."
[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.[*11]
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 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 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 _tabi_, 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 _zori_ or
_géta_,--a light straw sandal or small wooden clog attached to the foot
by a strap passing between the toes. At the very beginning the 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 _géta_ 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 _géta_ 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 _géta_, 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 _géta_ strengthens the ankles by affording no
artificial aid or support, and giving to 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
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. _Iya_ expresses
discontent or dislike of any kind, and is also used for "no"; _mam ma_
means food; _bé bé_ is the dress; _ta ta_ is the sock, or house shoe,
etc. We find many of the same sounds as in the 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 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 _savoir faire_; a
childlike simplicity is united with a womanly consideration for the
comfort of those around 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 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 _O J[=o] Sama_, literally, young lady; to her own brothers and sisters,
_Né San_, elder sister. Should she be one of the younger ones, her given
name, preceded by the honorific _O_ and followed by _San_, meaning Miss,
will be the name by which she will be called by younger brothers and
sisters, and 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 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 _saké_ 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. 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 _engawa_, or piazza, which runs around
the outside of a Japanese house between the _shoji_, or paper screens
that serve as windows, and the _amado_, 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, 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 _mochi_, 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.[*24] First among the annual 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 _mochi_, 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, and much they enjoy
this, as, dressed in their best, they ride from house to house in
_jinrikishas_.[5]
[5] _Jinrikisha_, or _kuruma_, a small, light carriage, usually with a
broad top, which is drawn by a man. The _jinrikisha_ is the commonest of
all vehicles now in use in Japan. _Jinrikisha_-man and _kurumaya_ are
terms commonly used for the runner who draws the carriage.
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 "_Hyaku nin isshu_," 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 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 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, 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 _Tokugawa
daimi[=o]s_, 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, _saké_
pots, rice buckets, etc., all complete; and in each utensil was placed
the appropriate variety of food. The _saké_ used on this occasion is a
sweet, white liquor, brewed especially for this feast, as different from
the ordinary _saké_ as sweet cider is from the hard cider upon which a
man may drink himself into a state of intoxication.[*30] Besides the
table service, everything that an imperial doll can be expected to need
or desire is placed upon the shelves. Lacquered _norimono_, 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 _hibachi_, 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 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.[*31]
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 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 _kwan-ko-ba_, 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 quilted cover of the _kotatsu_,[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 _oni_, monsters
with red, distorted faces and fearful horns. Momotaro, the Peach Boy,
with his wonderful feats in the conquest of the _oni_, is her hero,
until he is supplanted by the more real ones of Japanese history.
[6] _Kotatsu_, 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.
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 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 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 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.
[7] Kisses are unknown, and regarded by conservative Japanese as an
animal and disgusting way of expressing affection.
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 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 _matsuri_ 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 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, it affords
little opportunity for the development of the reasoning powers.[8] The
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.
[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
_kana_, or Japanese alphabet.[*40]
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 _kana_.
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.[*41] The _koto_ is the pleasantest of the Japanese
instruments, but probably on account of its large size, which makes it
inconvenient to keep in a small Japanese house, it is used most among
the higher classes, from the _samurai_[9] upwards. The _koto_ 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 _koto_ 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 _samisen_, 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.
[9] The _samurai_ in the feudal times were the hereditary retainers of a
_daimi[=o]_, or feudal lord. They formed the military and literary class.
For further information, see chap. viii., on _Samurai Women_.
The arrangement of flowers is taught as 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 set in the _tokonoma_, or raised alcove of
the room, under the solitary _kakémono_[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.
[10] _Kakémono_, a hanging scroll, upon which a picture is painted, or
some poem or sentiment written.
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 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.[*45] 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 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
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 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 she allowed to undertake any copying from nature, or
original designing.[*49]
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 T[=o]ky[=o]. A widow, left penniless, with one child to support,
she earned the merest pittance by teaching sewing at one of the
government schools in T[=o]ky[=o]; 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
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 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 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.[*52]
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.
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 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.
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.[*55]
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, 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.
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.
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
maiden, who would be willing to become his wife. The friend, acting
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 for the success of the marriage, and must be
concerned in the divorce proceedings, should divorce become desirable or
necessary.
[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 _sine qua non_ 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 _obi_ or girdle. This takes the place of the conventional
engagement ring of Europe and America.[*60] From the family of the
bride, silk, such as is made up into men's dresses, is sent.
The marriage ceremony, which seems to be neither religious nor legal in
its nature,[*61a] 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.[*61b] 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, 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 _jinrikisha_ men, and the _bett[=o]_
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.
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 (_saké_) 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]
[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.
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 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.[*64]
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 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 _mochi_, 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 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]
[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 _Japan_, p. 425.
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,
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 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 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 T[=o]ky[=o]
afford an amusing illustration. The man, whom I had hired in the double
capacity of _jinrikisha_ man and _bett[=o]_ or groom, was a strong,
faithful, pleasant-faced fellow, recently come to T[=o]ky[=o] 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 _jinrikisha_. 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 T[=o]ky[=o] 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 not
be polite to put my friends to inconvenience by taking away their
servant. His next effort was by negotiation through a T[=o]ky[=o]
friend; but apparently Yasaku's country manners were not to the taste of
the T[=o]ky[=o] 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 T[=o]ky[=o].
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
_bett[=o]'s_ quarters in the stable showed great preparations for the
bride. The mats, new-covered with nice straw matting, were white and
clean; the _shoji_ 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.
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
_hibachi_. 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 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 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.
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 _samurai_
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.
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, _samurai_, 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.[*76]
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 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.
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 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 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.
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 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 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.
CHAPTER IV.
WIFE AND MOTHER.[*84]
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 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 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
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,
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 arises, puts out the feeble light of the _andon_,[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, 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.
[15] The _andon_ 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 _andon_ 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 Ki[=o]to,
where the hair is even more elaborately dressed than in T[=o]ky[=o], it is
much less frequently arranged. The process takes two hours at least.
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 _kuruma_ 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 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 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 _jinrikisha_, not only the guest, but the
_jinrikisha_ 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 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 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 _kimono_ 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.
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.
[17] The one exception to this statement, so far as I know, is the
species of silk mosaic made by the ladies in the _daimi[=o]s'_ houses.
(See chap. vii.)
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 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 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 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 _sakaki_[18]
before the tombs, and to see that 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.
[18] _Sakaki_, the _Cleyera Japonica_, a sacred plant emblematic of
purity, and much used at funerals and in the decoration of graves.
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 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 "_O kaeri_," 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 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 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 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.
[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.
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 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 _y[=o]shi_, 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; 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
_y[=o]shi_. 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 _daimi[=o]s_ without sons, _y[=o]shi_ 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 _samurai_ families was limited. Several sons of one
family could not establish different _samurai_ 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 _samurai_ families as _y[=o]shi_, where it was
desired to secure a succession to a name that must otherwise die out.
Since the Restoration, and the breaking down of the old class
distinctions, young men care more for independence than for their rank
as _samurai_; and it is now quite difficult to find _y[=o]shi_ to enter
_samurai_ 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 _y[=o]shi_, 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 _y[=o]shi_, unless the
family that he enters is a wealthy one.
From this custom of _y[=o]shi_, 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 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 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 _jinrikisha_ man employed by a friend of mine in T[=o]ky[=o],
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 T[=o]ky[=o], is a cart heavily laden
with wood, charcoal, or some other country produce, 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 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.
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 _samurai_, who are permitted two, the men of the higher classes
are allowed to introduce into their families these _mékaké_, 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 _mékaké_, 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 _samurai_ and lower classes who have enough spirit and
wit to prevent their husbands 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 _mékaké_ 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 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 _mékaké_. That these positions are not sought after must be said, to
the honor of Japanese womanhood. A nobleman may obtain _samurai_ women
for his "_O mékaké_" (literally, honorable concubines), but they are
never respected by their own class for taking such positions. In the
same way the _mékaké_ of _samurai_ are usually from the _héimin_. No
woman who has any chance of a better lot will ever take the unenviable
position of _mékaké_.
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 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 _mékaké_, 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 _mékaké_ will go out of fashion, and the real wife will once more
assume her proper importance.[20]
[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.
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 same time, and for the first
time, publicly placed his wife upon his own level. In an imperial
progress made through the streets of T[=o]ky[=o], the Emperor and
Empress, for the first time in the history of Japan, rode together in
the imperial coach.[*115] 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 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 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 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.
[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.
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 younger than her
real age, or hesitates to tell with entire frankness the number of years
that have passed over her head.
[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 _marumagé_, 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.
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 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 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, 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 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 _O B[)a] San_, or Aunty,
is not far removed in the honor and affection of the children from the
_O B[=a] San_, 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 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.
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 T[=o]ky[=o], 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 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 _samisen_ outside the latticed windows, and singing with
cracked voices some wailing melody. As they go 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 worker. The _go inkyo_[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 _saké_ bottle, to join in a quiet smoke over
the _hibachi_, or to play the deep-engrossing game of _go_, or _shogi_,
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 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.
[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] _Go Inkyo Sama_ is the title belonging to a retired old gentleman
or old lady. _Inkyo_ 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 _go_ and the title _Sama_, the same as _San_,
used in addressing all persons except inferiors.
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 _inkyo_, 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.[*137]
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 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.
[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.
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 K[=o]g[=o], the conqueror 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 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
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 K[=o]g[=o]'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 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 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 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, their skill in repartee, and their
quaint fancies, which they embodied in poetic form.[26]
[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, Seish[=o] Nagon,
and Iséno Taiyu, all court ladies in the time of the Emperor Ichij[=o]
(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.
Much attention was given to that harmony of art with nature that the
Japanese taste makes the _sine qua non_ 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
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 _kakémono_ and vase are alternately stored
in the _kura_ 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 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 _bonmots_ 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 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.
[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] _Méiji_ (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.
There are also, at the palace, frequent meetings of the poets and lovers
of poetry 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 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, 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.[*152]
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 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 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 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 Ichij[=o], 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 Sh[=o]gunate,[30] and the restoration of the Emperor to actual
power and the leading part in the government. Reared amid the deep and
scholarly seclusion of the old court at Ky[=o]to, 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 T[=o]ky[=o], 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 and progress, the
Empress Haru Ko has done all that lay within her power to advance the
women of her country.[*157] 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.
[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
_kugé_, 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 Shint[=o] priestesses or Buddhist nuns
dwelt in the retirement of temple courts or the seclusion of cloisters.
[30] Tokugawa Sh[=o]guns 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 _Tycoon_ (Great Prince), a name assumed, or rather revived, to
impress the foreigners when Commodore Perry was negotiating in regard to
treaties. The Sh[=o]gun held the daimi[=o]s in forced subjection,--a
subjection that was shaken in 1862, and broken at last in the year 1868,
when, by the fall of the Sh[=o]gunate, the Emperor was restored to
direct power over his people.
Some years ago, when the castle in T[=o]ky[=o] was burned, and the
Emperor and Empress were obliged to take refuge in an old daimi[=o]'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 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 Ichij[=o], 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 T[=o]ky[=o], 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 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 Majesty's benevolence is,
however, more than usually striking. Since the founding of the T[=o]ky[=o]
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 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 T[=o]ky[=o], 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
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 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 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]
[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.
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 T[=o]ky[=o] 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 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 T[=o]ky[=o], at other times to schools, charitable
institutions or exhibitions, as well as occasional visits t
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