JAPANESE CHILDREN
Boys and girls--Games--The Feast of Dolls--School life--The ‘Hina
Matsuri’--The Feast of the Carp--The ‘Bon Matsuri,’ the festival for
dead children.
There is nothing more delightful in Japan than the children. Japan has
been called ‘the Paradise for Babies,’ and the Japanese ‘a nation at
play.’ Certainly these titles seemed to me appropriate as I took my
first drive through the narrow Japanese streets, and saw at every turn
the crowds of happy-faced little beings, either flying huge kites--whose
long strings got sadly in the way of our rickshaws, though no one seemed
to care--or spinning tops on the pavement, a fatal practice to
short-sighted pedestrians.
How picturesque they looked toddling about in their bright-coloured
kimonos and high wooden clogs, with a baby almost as big as themselves
firmly secured on their backs, the rider and ridden sometimes so near of
an age that one almost fancied they must be taking turns and carrying
one another!
[Illustration: ‘HOW PICTURESQUE THEY LOOKED!’]
The babies, too, appeared to enjoy the fun as much as anyone, which was
fortunate, as, willing or unwilling, they had to join in all the games
of their elder brothers and sisters, and one wondered how on earth it
was their little heads didn’t roll off as they rocked backwards and
forwards, and up and down, in time to the rapid movements of the game
their elders were playing.
Little girls, too small to carry real babies, had big dolls strapped on
their backs, and it was really difficult to distinguish the live article
from the imitation. No wonder their backs become bent nearly double by
the time they are old women--they age very quickly do the women in the
Far East--but they are wonderfully fascinating when young, with their
curious, old-fashioned manners, their marvellous self-possession, and
the politeness and dignity with which they comport themselves on every
occasion. They have but one drawback, and that I must confess is a very
serious one--namely, the total absence of pocket-handkerchiefs; and
somehow they always seem to have colds! I think I need say no more.
There are many strange and original customs relating to the management
and bringing up of children in Japan. Boys are the most thought of, as
is universally the case all over the East, but not to the same extent as
in other Eastern countries.
‘On the birth of a son there is great rejoicing in a family. Two fans
are presented to the infant by his godparent, representing courage. When
he is thirty days old he is taken to a temple to receive his name. Three
names are written on separate bits of paper and given to a priest, who,
asking the gods to direct the choice, throws the slips into the air, and
the first falling to earth is supposed to contain the name the gods
approve of, and is consequently given to the child.
‘Other names are added during the boy’s life--on his fifteenth birthday,
on his marriage, and one is given to him after death by his relations.
‘A boy’s head is clean-shaven until he is five years old, with the
exception of four little tufts of hair--one in front, one behind, and
one at each side of his head. On his fifth birthday the function of the
“hakama” takes place--the child, in other words, goes into trousers. A
godparent is appointed for this important event, who presents his godson
with three gifts--a false sword, a wooden spear, and a ceremonial dress
embroidered with storks, tortoises, branches of fir, bamboo-twigs, and
cherry-blossom--all emblems of good luck and long life. From that date
his hair is allowed to grow, though it is generally very closely cropped
in French fashion.
‘On his fifteenth birthday the last and most important function is
celebrated--"the Ceremony of the Cap"--when a new godparent is chosen,
the boy receives his second name, and he attains his majority.’[C]
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Footnote C:
Siebold.
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[Illustration: JAPANESE CHILDREN.]
We are also told by Siebold that it was the custom of the ancients, on
the birth of a female child, to let it lie on the floor for the space of
three days, and in this way to show the likening of the man to heaven
and the woman to earth. This custom has fortunately been abolished, with
many other cruel and barbarous practices, and female children are no
longer neglected.
When a daughter is born in a house, a godparent is chosen, who presents
the baby with a shell of paint, implying beauty. A pair of ‘hina,’ or
images, are also purchased for the little girl, which she plays with
until she is grown up. When she is married her hina are taken with her
to her husband’s house, and she gives them to her children, adding to
the stock as her family increases.
Dolls occupy a very important part in the life of a little girl. They
are not merely playthings to be thrown away and discarded at will; on
the contrary, they are considered ‘heirlooms’ in a family, and carefully
guarded and treasured for generations. I really think an ‘ichi ban,’ or
best doll, receives much more care and attention than the real baby, who
from its earliest infancy, as I have before remarked, is made to share
in all the work and play of its elders, with no regard to its own
feelings or wishes.
The ‘Hina Matsuri,’ or the Feast of Dolls, takes place annually on March
3, and lasts about a week. I remember paying a very interesting visit to
the wife of the late Japanese Minister of Marines in Tokio, when I was
invited to see her little girl’s show of dolls.
O Haru San--the Honourable Miss Spring--who was an only child, and
adored by her parents, greeted me with charming politeness and dignity,
placing her tiny white hands on her knees and bowing her head down to
the ground. She was a delightful little creature of eight years of age,
very small and slender, with manners quite equal to the Countess, her
mother, who is one of the most charming women I have met in the East. O
Haru San was dressed in a fascinating gray silk crape kimono, with a
fold of scarlet crape round the neck and a gold brocaded obi. Her face
and throat were much whitened, the paint terminating in three points at
the back of the neck; her lips were reddened and slightly touched with
gold. Her hair was drawn back, raised in front and gathered into a
double loop, into which a band of scarlet crape was twisted. On her feet
she wore ‘tabi,’ little white linen socks hooked up at the side, with a
separate place for the great toe, and I noticed her little lacquered
‘geta’ (clogs) were placed neatly together just outside the door. The
whole effect reminded me of an exquisite wax model, and it was
impossible to imagine that tiny delicate being capable of any mental or
physical exertion.
To my surprise, however, she tripped gaily in front of me up the wooden
staircase and down a long corridor to a large room where the Hina
Matsuri was being held. She appeared perfectly at her ease, and chatted
away, asking me many intelligent questions, through the interpreter,
about little English girls, their games, dolls, etc.
On the landing a dolls’ garden was arranged, with small houses, bridges,
miniature fir-trees--the latter a great speciality in Japan--a river
with real water, even a minute pond with three gold-fish--the whole
arrangement very artistically planned and set out. As O Haru San drew
back the lacquered panels of her room, she looked at me anxiously to see
how I should be impressed. I certainly had no cause to feign surprise.
The sight was a most unusual one. The room was literally packed with
dolls of every sort and description; almost every nationality was
represented, some nearly life-size, others the length of one’s little
finger; all were arranged in groups, standing, sitting, propped up
against cushions, in every conceivable attitude.
On a kind of daïs were two dolls on thrones, representing the Emperor
and Empress of Japan. As far as I could see every doll was in perfect
order, every detail of their costumes correct--no broken noses, arms, or
legs--no pins! Even in the hospital, where several pale-faced dolls were
lying in bed, I noticed the splints and bandages were not to hide, but
to represent, injuries.
My small hostess darted hither and thither, pointing out special
favourites, rearranging some of the groups with her delicate little
white hands with great care and precision. I thought of my favourite
rag-doll Sally, with no features and destitute of legs, that I used to
hug in my arms as a child when I went to sleep; and I wondered what O
Haru San’s feelings would have been if I had suggested adding that
mutilated remnant to her collection. What havoc a few English children
would have made in that room! But a Japanese child is perfectly content
to look and admire; and I imagine such a thing as breaking a doll would
be considered almost a crime. Many of these toys, I was told, were over
two hundred years old; some represented warriors and ‘samuri’ of the
seventeenth century--uniforms, weapons, complete. I must not forget the
dinner-service which was spread on one of the tables, and from which
every day during the Matsuri food was served to the more important of
the dolls by their young mistress.
How comic it all seemed, and yet how real and serious it was to little
Miss Spring! She told me that at the end of the week every doll was
carefully wrapped in paper and locked away until the following year,
although one or two special favourites were occasionally brought out for
change of air.
Before leaving O Haru San presented me with about a thimbleful of tea in
a tiny transparent cup of white and gold, saying in her pretty little
way: ‘This tea is worthless indeed, and green, but deign to moisten your
honourable lips with it.’ I did as she requested, assuring her that
never before had I tasted its equal in delicious fragrance.
One _must_ be polite to avoid hopelessly disgracing one’s self in
Japanese society.
I felt strongly inclined to kiss the tiny piquant face, white paint and
all, as we said good-bye; but that would have been far too great a
breach of etiquette to be tolerated by the little lady, who, bowing low
as I left the house, begged ‘to be very kindly remembered to my most
honourable father, of whom she had heard so much.’
The following extract, taken from a German book written in 1841, shows
us how much importance has always been attached to the rules of
politeness and etiquette in Japan. It says, speaking of education:
‘Children of the higher orders are carefully instructed in morals and
manners, including the whole science of good-breeding, the minutest laws
of etiquette, and the forms of behaviour as graduated towards every
individual of the whole human race, by relation, rank, and station.’
Compulsory education exists all over the country, even in remote country
villages in the interior. A drum beats at seven o’clock in the morning
to summon the children to school, and if one is energetic enough to be
about at that early hour, one sees troops of quaint little figures
wending their way to the school-house with satchels on their backs, very
possibly flying kites or spinning tops, according to the time of year,
as they go along.
On a wet morning, instead of the merry little faces, nothing is visible
but a long procession of large yellow parchment umbrellas, and bare
brown legs and feet. With one hand the kimono is carefully held up high
out of harm’s way, with no respect to appearances; in the other hand the
children carry their ‘geta’ (clogs), which are only used in fine
weather.
As Miss Bird says, describing a Japanese school:
‘The model behaviour of the children during school-hours is quite
remarkable; they are so imbued with the spirit of obedience that their
teachers have no difficulty in securing quiet and attention. In fact,
they are almost too good; and their little old-fashioned faces look
painfully serious sometimes as they pore over their books or repeat
verses and lessons in their monotonous voices.’
One of their recitations, which I have since seen translated, ran as
follows:
‘Colour and perfume vanish away;
What can be lasting in this world?
To-day disappears in the abyss of nothingness.
It is but the passing image of a dream, and causes only a slight
trouble.’
In other words, ‘vanity of vanities’--a dismal ditty for young children,
but very characteristic of the spirit of fatalism in the East.
‘The penalties for bad conduct used to be a few blows with a switch on
the leg, or a slight burn with the “moxa” on the forefinger, but now the
usual punishment is detention after school-hours.
‘The cost of education is not expensive--from a halfpenny to three
halfpence a month, according to the means of the parent.’
Besides the national schools, there are many excellent colleges and
schools for the children of the nobles and upper classes in Japan. In
Tokio alone there are military, naval, and engineering colleges, besides
a large University. Japanese students, however, frequently finish their
education at foreign Universities, where they often take high degrees.
A girl generally leaves school when she is fifteen, but she continues
her studies until she marries. An important part in her education is the
arrangement of flowers, an art cultivated into a veritable science in
Japan. I was anxious to take a few lessons, but was told that no
satisfactory result could be obtained under three years’ constant study,
so decided to leave that accomplishment to those who had more time and
patience at their disposal.
I must not forget to mention some of the games and fêtes which take such
an important place in the lives of Japanese children. I have described
the Hina Matsuri, the festival for girls, which is celebrated on the 3rd
of March. The feast for boys is held on the 5th of May at the festival
of Hachman, the god of war. The towns and villages on that date present
a most curious spectacle. Where there are any boys in the family, large,
hollow, canvas kites in the form of a carp are hung at the end of long
poles from every home; the number and size of the fish corresponding to
the number and age of the boys in the family.
These fish used to be made large enough to carry a man up in the air,
and have been known to be employed in time of war to spy into the
interior of an enemy’s castle. On one occasion a robber was caught by
means of their help, and killed, but they are no longer used for these
practices.
The carp is chosen as an emblem at the feast of boys on account of its
strength and power to swim up against stream. In like manner a boy is
supposed to push his way along the stream of life and combat
difficulties.
There is a very picturesque, and at the same time curiously pathetic,
festival which takes place annually at the end of August at
Nagasaki--the ‘Bon Matsuri,’ or festival to dead children. Every day
during the week children in gorgeous costumes parade the streets of the
town, carrying fans, banners and lanterns, collecting subscriptions. On
the last day of the festival, at sunset, whole fleets of little straw
sailing-boats, with food and a light on board each, are launched on the
beach for the souls of the little children who have died.
How well I remember the scene! The sun was sinking like a ball of fire
into the purple sea, tinging the mountains, the islands, and the yellow
sand a delicate rose colour.
As far as the eye could reach numberless little figures were hurrying to
and fro on the beach, fitting out their tiny crafts ready to launch into
the water. As the sun sank behind the horizon the murmur of many voices
broke the stillness, gradually resolving into a weird incantation, which
echoed from hill to hill. This was the signal for the lighting and
launching of the boats; a few minutes later, when night had fallen, the
sea seemed ablaze with countless flickering lights; and on the shore,
thousands of little figures, fast disappearing into the darkness, could
be seen kneeling on the sand offering up their prayers and petitions for
the welfare of the little ones they had lost, in whose memory the
festival had been celebrated.
Since the opening up of the country to foreigners and the introduction
of Western civilization, many of the quaint manners and customs in Japan
are fast disappearing, and the Japanese children, especially in the
Treaty-port towns, cannot be said to have benefited by the change.
Nothing can be more delightful than a Japanese child with Japanese
manners; nothing, I grieve to say, more objectionable than one with
European manners. Why is it, I wonder, that bad habits are so much more
easily learnt than good ones?
In spite of all this, however, one must admit that much still remains,
especially amongst the girls, of that grace, that gentle politeness and
courtesy, which has ever given such a charm and attracted one so much to
the children of Japonica.