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Yuki's
son, a lad of thirteen, often comes to my room to display
his
skill in writing the Chinese character. He is a very bright
boy,
and shows considerable talent for drawing. Indeed, it is only
a
short step from writing to drawing. Giotto's O hardly involved
more
breadth and vigour of touch than some of these characters.
They
are written with a camel's-hair brush dipped in Indian ink,
instead
of a pen, and this boy, with two or three vigorous touches,
produces
characters a foot long, such as are mounted and hung as
tablets
outside the different shops. Yuki plays the samisen, which
may
be regarded as the national female instrument, and Haru goes to
a
teacher daily for lessons on the same.
The
art of arranging flowers is taught in manuals, the study of
which
forms part of a girl's education, and there is scarcely a day
in
which my room is not newly decorated. It is an education to me;
I
am beginning to appreciate the extreme beauty of solitude in
decoration.
In the alcove hangs a kakemono of exquisite beauty, a
single
blossoming branch of the cherry. On one panel of a folding
screen
there is a single iris. The vases which hang so gracefully
on
the polished posts contain each a single peony, a single iris, a
single
azalea, stalk, leaves, and corolla--all displayed in their
full
beauty. Can anything be more grotesque and barbarous than our
"florists'
bouquets," a series of concentric rings of flowers of
divers
colours, bordered by maidenhair and a piece of stiff lace
paper,
in which stems, leaves, and even petals are brutally
crushed,
and the grace and individuality of each flower
systematically
destroyed?
Kanaya
is the chief man in this village, besides being the leader
of
the dissonant squeaks and discords which represent music at the
Shinto
festivals, and in some mysterious back region he compounds
and
sells drugs. Since I have been here the beautification of his
garden
has been his chief object, and he has made a very
respectable
waterfall, a rushing stream, a small lake, a rustic
bamboo
bridge, and several grass banks, and has transplanted
several
large trees. He kindly goes out with me a good deal, and,
as
he is very intelligent, and Ito is proving an excellent, and, I
think,
a faithful interpreter, I find it very pleasant to be here.
They
rise at daylight, fold up the wadded quilts or futons on and
under
which they have slept, and put them and the wooden pillows,
much
like stereoscopes in shape, with little rolls of paper or
wadding
on the top, into a press with a sliding door, sweep the
mats
carefully, dust all the woodwork and the verandahs, open the
amado--wooden
shutters which, by sliding in a groove along the edge
of
the verandah, box in the whole house at night, and retire into
an
ornamental projection in the day--and throw the paper windows
back.
Breakfast follows, then domestic avocations, dinner at one,
and
sewing, gardening, and visiting till six, when they take the
evening
meal.
Visitors
usually arrive soon afterwards, and stay till eleven or
twelve.
Japanese chess, story-telling, and the samisen fill up the
early
part of the evening, but later, an agonising performance,
which
they call singing, begins, which sounds like the very essence
of
heathenishness, and consists mainly in a prolonged vibrating
"No."
As soon as I hear it I feel as if I were among savages.
Sake,
or rice beer, is always passed round before the visitors
leave,
in little cups with the gods of luck at the bottom of them.
Sake,
when heated, mounts readily to the head, and a single small
cup
excites the half-witted man-servant to some very foolish
musical
performances. I am sorry to write it, but his master and
mistress
take great pleasure in seeing him make a fool of himself,
and
Ito, who is from policy a total abstainer, goes into
convulsions
of laughter.
One
evening I was invited to join the family, and they entertained
me
by showing me picture and guide books. Most Japanese provinces
have
their guide-books, illustrated by wood-cuts of the most
striking
objects, and giving itineraries, names of yadoyas, and
other
local information. One volume of pictures, very finely
executed
on silk, was more than a century old. Old gold lacquer
and
china, and some pieces of antique embroidered silk, were also
produced
for my benefit, and some musical instruments of great
beauty,
said to be more than two centuries old. None of these
treasures
are kept in the house, but in the kura, or fireproof
storehouse,
close by. The rooms are not encumbered by ornaments; a
single
kakemono, or fine piece of lacquer or china, appears for a
few
days and then makes way for something else; so they have
variety
as well as simplicity, and each object is enjoyed in its
turn
without distraction.
Kanaya
and his sister often pay me an evening visit, and, with
Brunton's
map on the floor, we project astonishing routes to
Niigata,
which are usually abruptly abandoned on finding a
mountain-chain
in the way with never a road over it. The life of
these
people seems to pass easily enough, but Kanaya deplores the
want
of money; he would like to be rich, and intends to build a
hotel
for foreigners.
The
only vestige of religion in his house is the kamidana, or god-
shelf,
on which stands a wooden shrine like a Shinto temple, which
contains
the memorial tablets to deceased relations. Each morning
a
sprig of evergreen and a little rice and sake are placed before
it,
and every evening a lighted lamp.
LETTER
X--(Continued)
Darkness
visible--Nikko Shops--Girls and Matrons--Night and Sleep--
Parental
Love--Childish Docility--Hair-dressing--Skin Diseases.
I
don't wonder that the Japanese rise early, for their evenings are
cheerless,
owing to the dismal illumination. In this and other
houses
the lamp consists of a square or circular lacquer stand,
with
four uprights, 2.5 feet high, and panes of white paper. A
flatted
iron dish is suspended in this full of oil, with the pith
of
a rush with a weight in the centre laid across it, and one of
the
projecting ends is lighted. This wretched apparatus is called
an
andon, and round its wretched "darkness visible" the family
huddles--the
children to play games and learn lessons, and the
women
to sew; for the Japanese daylight is short and the houses are
dark.
Almost more deplorable is a candlestick of the same height
as
the andon, with a spike at the top which fits into a hole at the
bottom
of a "farthing candle" of vegetable wax, with a thick wick
made
of rolled paper, which requires constant snuffing, and, after
giving
for a short time a dim and jerky light, expires with a bad
smell.
Lamps, burning mineral oils, native and imported, are being
manufactured
on a large scale, but, apart from the peril connected
with
them, the carriage of oil into country districts is very
expensive.
No Japanese would think of sleeping without having an
andon
burning all night in his room.
These
villages are full of shops. There is scarcely a house which
does
not sell something. Where the buyers come from, and how a
profit
can be made, is a mystery. Many of the things are eatables,
such
as dried fishes, 1.5 inch long, impaled on sticks; cakes,
sweetmeats
composed of rice, flour, and very little sugar; circular
lumps
of rice dough, called mochi; roots boiled in brine; a white
jelly
made from beans; and ropes, straw shoes for men and horses,
straw
cloaks, paper umbrellas, paper waterproofs, hair-pins, tooth-
picks,
tobacco pipes, paper mouchoirs, and numbers of other trifles
made
of bamboo, straw, grass, and wood. These goods are on stands,
and
in the room behind, open to the street, all the domestic
avocations
are going on, and the housewife is usually to be seen
boiling
water or sewing with a baby tucked into the back of her
dress.
A lucifer factory has recently been put up, and in many
house
fronts men are cutting up wood into lengths for matches. In
others
they are husking rice, a very laborious process, in which
the
grain is pounded in a mortar sunk in the floor by a flat-ended
wooden
pestle attached to a long horizontal lever, which is worked
by
the feet of a man, invariably naked, who stands at the other
extremity.
In
some women are weaving, in others spinning cotton. Usually
there
are three or four together--the mother, the eldest son's
wife,
and one or two unmarried girls. The girls marry at sixteen,
and
shortly these comely, rosy, wholesome-looking creatures pass
into
haggard, middle-aged women with vacant faces, owing to the
blackening
of the teeth and removal of the eyebrows, which, if they
do
not follow betrothal, are resorted to on the birth of the first
child.
In other houses women are at their toilet, blackening their
teeth
before circular metal mirrors placed in folding stands on the
mats,
or performing ablutions, unclothed to the waist. Early the
village
is very silent, while the children are at school; their
return
enlivens it a little, but they are quiet even at play; at
sunset
the men return, and things are a little livelier; you hear a
good
deal of splashing in baths, and after that they carry about
and
play with their younger children, while the older ones prepare
lessons
for the following day by reciting them in a high,
monotonous
twang. At dark the paper windows are drawn, the amado,
or
external wooden shutters, are closed, the lamp is lighted before
the
family shrine, supper is eaten, the children play at quiet
games
round the andon; and about ten the quilts and wooden pillows
are
produced from the press, the amado are bolted, and the family
lies
down to sleep in one room. Small trays of food and the
tabako-bon
are always within reach of adult sleepers, and one grows
quite
accustomed to hear the sound of ashes being knocked out of
the
pipe at intervals during the night. The children sit up as
late
as their parents, and are included in all their conversation.
I
never saw people take so much delight in their offspring,
carrying
them about, or holding their hands in walking, watching
and
entering into their games, supplying them constantly with new
toys,
taking them to picnics and festivals, never being content to
be
without them, and treating other people's children also with a
suitable
measure of affection and attention. Both fathers and
mothers
take a pride in their children. It is most amusing about
six
every morning to see twelve or fourteen men sitting on a low
wall,
each with a child under two years in his arms, fondling and
playing
with it, and showing off its physique and intelligence. To
judge
from appearances, the children form the chief topic at this
morning
gathering. At night, after the houses are shut up, looking
through
the long fringe of rope or rattan which conceals the
sliding
door, you see the father, who wears nothing but a maro in
"the
bosom of his family," bending his ugly, kindly face over a
gentle-looking
baby, and the mother, who more often than not has
dropped
the kimono from her shoulders, enfolding two children
destitute
of clothing in her arms. For some reasons they prefer
boys,
but certainly girls are equally petted and loved. The
children,
though for our ideas too gentle and formal, are very
prepossessing
in looks and behaviour. They are so perfectly docile
and
obedient, so ready to help their parents, so good to the little
ones,
and, in the many hours which I have spent in watching them at
play,
I have never heard an angry word or seen a sour look or act.
But
they are little men and women rather than children, and their
old-fashioned
appearance is greatly aided by their dress, which, as
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