The interior of a Japanese house is so simple in its construction, and so
unlike anything to which we are accustomed in the arrangement of details
of interiors in this country, that it is difficult to find terms of
comparison in attempting to describe it. Indeed, without the assistance of
sketches it would be almost impossible to give a clear idea of the general
appearance, and more especially the details, of Japanese house‐interiors.
We shall therefore mainly rely on the various figures, with such aid as
description may render.
The first thing that impresses one on entering a Japanese house is the
small size and low stud of the rooms. The ceilings are so low that in many
cases one can easily touch them, and in going from one room to another one
is apt to strike his head against the _kamoi,_ or lintel. He notices also
the constructive features everywhere apparent,—in the stout wooden posts,
supports, cross‐ties, etc. The rectangular shape of the rooms, and the
general absence of all jogs and recesses save the _tokonoma_ and companion
recess in the best room are noticeable features. These recesses vary in
depth from two to three feet or more, depending on the size of the room,
and are almost invariably in that side of the room which runs at a right
angle with the verandah (_fig. 96_); or if in the second story, at a right
angle with the balcony. The division between the recesses consists of a
light partition, partly or wholly closed, which generally separates the
recesses into two equal bays. The bay nearest the verandah is called the
_tokonoma._ In this recess hang one or two pictures, usually one; and on
its floor, which is slightly raised above the level of the mats of the
main floor, stands a vase or some other ornament. The companion bay has
usually a little closet or cupboard closed by sliding screens, and one or
two shelves above, and also another long shelf near its ceiling, all
closed by sliding screens. At the risk of some repetition, more special
reference will be made farther on to these peculiar and eminently
characteristic features of the Japanese house.
[Fig. 96.—Guest‐room in Hachi‐ishi.]
Fig. 96.—Guest‐room in Hachi‐ishi.
In my remarks on Japanese house‐construction, in Chapter I., allusion was
made to the movable partitions dividing the rooms, consisting of light
frames of wood covered with paper. These are nearly six feet in height,
and about three feet in width. The frame‐work of a house, as we have
already said, is arranged with special reference to the sliding screens,
as well as to the number of mats which are to cover the floor. In each
corner of the room is a square post, and within eighteen inches or two
feet of the ceiling cross‐beams ran from post to post. These cross‐beams
have grooves on their under side in which the screens are to run. Not only
are most of the partitions between the rooms made up of sliding screens,
but a large portion of the exterior partitions as well are composed of
these light and adjustable devices. A house may have a suite of three or
four rooms in a line, and the outside partitions be made up entirely of
these movable screens and the necessary posts to support the roof,—these
posts coming in the corners of the rooms and marking the divisions between
the rooms. The outer screens are covered with white paper, and when
closed, a subdued and diffused light enters the room. They may be quickly
removed, leaving the entire front of the house open to the air and
sunshine. The screens between the rooms are covered with a thick paper,
which may be left plain, or ornamented with sketchy or elaborate drawings.
The almost entire absence of swinging doors is at once noticeable, though
now and then one sees them in other portions of the house. The absence of
all paint, varnish, oil, or filling, which, too often defaces our rooms at
home, is at once remarked; and the ridiculous absurdity of covering a good
grained wood‐surface with paint, and then with brush and comb trying to
imitate Nature by scratching in a series of lines, the Japanese are never
guilty of. On the contrary, the wood is left in just the condition in
which it leaves the cabinet‐maker’s plane, with a simple surface, smooth
but not polished,—though polished surfaces occur, however, which will be
referred to in the proper place. Oftentimes in some of the parts the
original surface of the wood is left, sometimes with the bark retained.
Whenever the Japanese workman can leave a bit of Nature in this way he is
delighted to do so. He is sure to avail himself of all curious features in
wood: it may be the effect of some fungoid growth which marks a bamboo
curiously; or the sinuous tracks produced by the larvae of some beetle
that oftentimes traces the surface of wood, just below the bark, with
curious designs; or a knot or burl. His eye never misses these features in
finishing a room.
The floors are often roughly made, for the reason that straw mats, two or
three inches in thickness, cover them completely. In our remarks on house‐
construction, allusion has already been made to the dimensions of these
mats.
Before proceeding further into the details of the rooms, it will be well
to examine the plans of a few dwellings copied directly from the
architect’s drawings. The first plan given (_fig. 97_) is that of a house
built in Tokio a few years ago, in which the writer has spent many
pleasant hours. The main house measures twenty‐one by thirty‐one feet; the
L measures fifteen by twenty‐four feet. The solid black squares represent
the heavier upright beams which support the roof. The solid black circles
represent the support for the L as well as for the verandah roof. The
areas marked with close parallel lines indicate the verandah, while the
double parallel lines indicate the sliding screens,—the solid black lines
showing the permanent partitions. The kitchen, bathroom, and certain
platforms are indicated by parallel lines somewhat wider apart than those
that indicate the verandah. The lines running obliquely indicate an area
where the boards run towards a central gutter slightly depressed below the
common level of the floor. Here stands the large earthen water‐jar or the
wooden bath‐tub; and water spilled upon the floor finds its way out of the
house by the gutter. The small areas on the outside of the house, shaded
in section, represent the closets or cases in which the storm‐blinds or
wooden shutters, which so effectually close the house at night, are stowed
away in the day‐time. The house contains a vestibule, a hall, seven rooms,
not including the kitchen, and nine closets. These rooms, if named after
our nomenclature, would be as follows: study, library, parlor, sitting‐
room, dining‐room, bed‐room, servants’‐room, and kitchen. As no room
contains any article of furniture like a bedstead.—the bed consisting of
wadded comforters, being made up temporarily upon the soft mats,—it is
obvious that the bedding can be placed in any room in the house. The
absence of nearly all furniture gives one an uninterrupted sweep of the
floor, so that the entire floor can be covered with sleepers if
necessary,—a great convenience certainly when one has to entertain
unexpectedly a crowd of guests over‐night. Certain closets are used as
receptacles for the comforters, where they are stowed away during the day‐
time.
The absence of all barns, wood‐sheds, and other out‐houses is particularly
noticeable, and as the house has no cellar, one wonders where the fuel is
stowed. In certain areas of the kitchen floor the planks are removable,
the edges of special planks being notched to admit the finger, so that
they can be lifted up one by one; and beneath them a large space is
revealed, in which wood and charcoal are kept. In the vestibule, which has
an earth floor, is a narrow area of wood flush with the floor within, and
in this also the boards may be lifted up in a similar way, disclosing a
space below, wherein the wooden clogs and umbrellas may be stowed out of
sight. These arrangements in the hall are seen in the houses of the
moderately well‐to‐do people, but not, so far as I know, in the houses of
the wealthy.
[Fig. 97.—Plan of dwelling‐house in Tokio.]
Fig. 97.—Plan of dwelling‐house in Tokio. _P,_ Parlor or Guest‐room; _S,_
Sitting‐room; _D,_ Dining‐room; _L,_ Library, _St,_ Study, _SR_ Servants’
Room; _B,_ Bed‐room, _K,_ Kitchen, _H,_ Hall; _V_ Vestibule; _C,_ Closet;
_T_ Tokonoma; _Sh,_ Shrine, _U_ and _L,_ Privy.
In this house the dining‐room and library are six‐mat rooms, the parlor is
an eight‐mat room, and the sitting‐room a four and one‐half mat room; that
is, the floor of each room accommodates the number of mats mentioned. The
last three named rooms are bordered by the verandah.
The expense of this house complete was about one thousand dollars. The
land upon which it stood contained about 10,800 square feet, and was
valued at three hundred and thirty dollars. Upon this the Government
demanded a tax of five dollars. The house furnished with these mats,
requires little else with which to begin house‐keeping.
A comfortable house, fit for the habitation of a family of four or five,
may be built for a far less sum of money, and the fewness and cheapness of
the articles necessary to furnish it surpass belief. In mentioning such a
modest house and furnishing, the reader must not imagine that the family
are constrained for want of room, or stinted in the necessary furniture;
on the contrary, they are enabled to live in the most comfortable manner.
Their wants are few, and their tastes are simple and refined. They live
without the slightest ostentation; no false display leads them into
criminal debt. The monstrous bills for carpets, curtains, furniture,
silver, dishes, etc., often entailed upon young house‐keepers at home in
any attempt at house‐keeping,—the premonition even of such bills often
preventing marriage,—are social miseries that the Japanese happily know
but little about.
Simple as the house just given appears to be, there is quite as much
variety in the arrangement of their rooms as with us. There are cheap
types of houses in Japan, as in our country, where room follows room in a
certain sequence; but the slightest attention to these matters will not
only show great variety in their plans, but equally great variety in the
ornamental finishing of their apartments.
The plan shown in _fig. 98_ is that of the house represented in figs. 36
and 37. The details are figured as in the previous plan. This house has on
the ground‐floor seven rooms besides the kitchen, hall, and bath‐room. The
kitchen and bath‐room are indicated, as in the former plan, by their
floors being ruled in wide parallel lines,—the lines running obliquely, as
in the former case, indicating the bath‐room or wash‐rooms.
The owner of this house has often welcomed me to its soft mats and quiet
atmosphere, and in the enjoyment of them I have often wondered as to the
impressions one would get if he could be suddenly transferred from his own
home to this unpretentious house, with its quaint and pleasant
surroundings. The general nakedness, or rather emptiness, of the
apartments would be the first thing noticed; then gradually the perfect
harmony of the tinted walls with the wood finish would be observed. The
orderly adjusted screens, with their curious free‐hand ink‐drawings, or
conventional designs on the paper of so subdued and intangible a character
that special attention must be directed to them to perceive their nature;
the clean and comfortable mats everywhere smoothly covering the floor; the
natural woods composing the ceiling and the structural finishing of the
room everywhere apparent; the customary recesses with their cupboard and
shelves, and the room‐wide lintel with its elaborate lattice or carving
above,—all these would leave lasting impressions of the exquisite taste
and true refinement of the Japanese.
I noticed that a peculiarly agreeable odor of the wood used in the
structure of this house seemed to fill the air of the rooms with a a
delicate perfume;(12) and in this connection I was led to think of the
rooms I had seen in America encumbered with chairs, bureaus, tables,
bedsteads, wash‐stands, etc., and of the dusty carpets and suffocating
wall‐paper, hot with some frantic design, and perforated with a pair of
quadrangular openings, wholly or partially closed against light and air.
Recalling this labyrinth of varnished furniture, I could but remember how
much work is entailed upon some one properly to attend to such a room; and
enjoying by contrast the fresh air and broad flood of light, limited only
by the dimensions of the room, which this Japanese house afforded, I could
not recall with any pleasure the stifling apartments with which I had been
familiar at home.
[Fig. 98.—Plan of dwelling‐house in Tokio.]
Fig. 98.—Plan of dwelling‐house in Tokio. _P,_ Parlor or Guest‐room; _B,_
Bed‐room, _K,_ Kitchen, _SR_ Servants’ Room; _BR,_ Bath Room, _E, E,_
Side‐entrances, _V_ Vestibule; _H,_ Hall; _WR,_ Waiting‐room; _C,_ Closet;
_T_ Tokonoma; _U_ and _L,_ Privy.
If a foreigner is not satisfied with the severe simplicity, and what might
at first strike him as a meagreness, in the appointments of a Japanese
house, and is nevertheless a man of taste, he is compelled to admit that
its paucity of furniture and carpets spares one the misery of certain
painful feelings that incongruities always produce. He recalls with
satisfaction certain works on household art, in which it is maintained
that a table with carved cherubs beneath, against whose absurd contours
one knocks his legs, is an abomination; and that carpets which have
depicted upon them winged angels, lions, or tigers,—or, worse still, a
simpering and reddened maiden being made love to by an equally ruddy
shepherd,—are hardly the proper surfaces to tread upon with comfort,
though one may take a certain grim delight in wiping his soiled boots upon
them. In the Japanese house the traveller is at least not exasperated with
such a medley of dreadful things; he is certainly spared the pains that
“civilized” styles of appointing and furnishing often produce. Mr. Lowell
truthfully remarks on “the waste, and aimlessness of our American luxury,
which is an abject enslavement to tawdry upholstery.”
We are digressing, however. In the plan referred to, an idea of the size
of the rooms may be formed by observing the number of mats in each room,
and recalling the size of the mats, which is about three feet by six. It
will be seen that the rooms are small, much smaller than those of a
similar class of American houses, though appearing more roomy from the
absence of furniture. The three rooms bordering the verandah and facing
the garden are readily thrown into one, and thus a continuous apartment is
secured, measuring thirty‐six feet in length by twelve in width; and this
is uninterrupted, with the exception of one small partition.(13)
In the manner of building, one recognizes the propriety of constructive
art as being in better taste; and in a Japanese house one sees this
principle carried out to perfection. The ceiling of boards, the corner
posts and middle posts and transverse ties are in plain sight. The corner
posts which support the roof play their part as a decorative feature, as
they pass stoutly upward from the ground beneath. A fringe of rafters rib
the lower surface of the wide overhanging eaves, and these in turn rest
firmly on an unhewn beam which runs as a girder from one side of the
verandah to the other. The house is simply charming in all its
appointments, and as a summer‐house during the many long hot months it is
incomparable. In the raw and rainy days of winter, however, it is not so
pleasant, at least to a foreigner,—though I question whether to a Japanese
it is more unpleasant than the ordinary houses at home are with us, with
some of the apartments hot and stifling, and things cracking with the
furnace heat, while other parts are splitting with the cold; with gas from
the furnace, and chimneys that often refuse to draw, and an impalpable
though tangible soot and coal‐dust settling on every object, and many
other abominations that are too well known. The Japanese do not suffer
from the cold as we do. Moreover, when in the house they clothe themselves
much more warmly; and for what little artificial warmth they desire, small
receptacles containing charcoal are provided, over which they warm
themselves, at the same time keeping their feet warm, as a hen does her
eggs, by sitting on them. Their indifference to cold is seen in the fact
that in their winter‐parties the rooms will often be entirely open to the
garden, which may be glistening with a fresh snowfall. Their winters are
of course much milder than our Northern winters. At such seasons, however,
an American misses in Japan the cheerful open fireplace around which the
family in his own country is wont to gather; indeed, with the social
character of our family life a Japanese house to us would be in winter
comfortless to the last degree.
The differences between the houses of the nobles and the _samurai_ are
quite as great as the differences between these latter houses and the rude
shelters of the peasant class. The differences between the interior finish
of the houses of the first two mentioned classes are perhaps not so
marked, as in both cases clean wood‐work, simplicity of style, and purity
of finish are aimed at; but the house of the noble is marked by a grander
entrance, a far greater extent of rooms and passages, and a modification
in the arrangement of certain rooms and passages not seen in the ordinary
house.
The accompanying plan of a Daimio’s house (_fig. 99_)(14) is from a
drawing made by Mr. Miyasaki, a student in the Kaikoshia, a private school
of architecture in Tokio, and exhibited with other plans at the late
International Health and Education Exhibition held in London. Through the
kindness of Mr. S. Tejima the Japanese commissioner, I have been enabled
to examine and study these plans.
[Fig. 99.—Plan of a portion of a Daimyo’s residence.]
Fig. 99.—Plan of a portion of a Daimyo’s residence.
The punctilious way in which guests or official callers were received by
the Daimio is indicated by a curious modification of the floor of one of a
suite of rooms, which is raised a few inches above the level of the other
floors, forming a sort of dais. These rooms are bordered by a sort of
passage‐way, or intermediate portion, called the _iri‐kawa,_ which comes
between the room and the verandah. To be more explicit: within the
boundary of the principal guest‐room there appears to be a suite of
smaller rooms marked off by _shōji;_ one of these rooms called the _ge‐
dan_ has its floor on a level with the other floors of the house. The
other room, called the _jō‐dan,_ has its floor raised to a height of three
or four inches above that of the _ge‐dan,_ its boundary or border being
marked by a polished plank forming a frame, so to speak, for the mats. On
that side of the _jō‐dan_ away from the _ge‐dan_ are the _tokonoma_ and
_chigai‐dana._ On entering such a room from the verandah one passes
through the usual _shōji,_ and then across a matted area called the _iri‐
kawa,_ the width of one mat or more; here he comes to another line of
sliding screens, which open into the apartments just described. When the
Daimio receives the calls from those who come to congratulate him on New
Year’s day, and other important occasions, he sits in great dignity in the
_jō‐dan;_ his chief minister and other attendants occupy the _iri‐kawa,_
while the visitors enter the _ge‐dan,_ and there make their obeisance to
the Worshipful Daimio Sama. In the same plan there is another suite of
rooms called the _kami‐noma_ and _tsugi‐noma_ surrounded by _iri‐kawa,_
probably used for similar purposes.
In this plan the close parallel lines indicate the verandahs; the thick
lines, permanent partitions; and the small black squares, the upright
posts. The lines of _shōji_ and _fusuma_ are shown by the thin lines,
which with the thick lines represent the boundaries of the rooms, passage‐
ways, etc.
A more minute description of the mats may be given at this point. A brief
allusion has already been made to them in the remarks on house‐
construction. These mats, or _tatami,_ are made very carefully of straw,
matted and bound together with stout string to the thickness of two inches
or more,—the upper surface being covered with a straw‐matting precisely
like the Canton matting we are familiar with, though in the better class
of mats of a little finer quality. The edges are trimmed true and square,
and the two longer sides are bordered on the upper surface and edge with a
strip of black linen an inch or more in width (_fig. 100_).
The making of mats is quite a separate trade from that of making the
straw‐matting with which they are covered. The mat‐maker may often be seen
at work in front of his door, crouching down to a low frame upon which the
mat rests.
[Fig. 100.—Mat.]
Fig. 100.—Mat.
As we have before remarked, the architect invariably plans his rooms to
accommodate a certain number of mats; and since these mats have a definite
size, any indication on the plan of the number of mats a room is to
contain gives at once its dimensions also. The mats are laid in the
following numbers,—two, three, four and one‐half, six, eight, ten, twelve,
fourteen, sixteen, and so on. In the two‐mat room the mats are laid side
by side. In the three‐mat room the mats may be laid side by side, or two
mats in one way and the third mat crosswise at the end. In the four and
one‐half mat room the mats are laid with the half‐mat in one corner. The
six and eight mat rooms are the most common‐sized rooms; and this gives
some indication of the small size of the ordinary Japanese room and
house,—the six‐mat room being about nine feet by twelve; the eight‐mat
room being twelve by twelve; and the ten‐mat room being twelve by fifteen.
The accompanying sketch (_fig. 101_) shows the usual arrangements for
these mats.
[Fig. 101.—Arrangement of mats in different‐sized rooms.]
Fig. 101.—Arrangement of mats in different‐sized rooms.
In adjusting mats to the floor, the corners of four mats are never allowed
to come together, but are arranged so that the corners of two mats abut
against the side of a third. They are supposed to be arranged in the
direction of a closely‐wound spiral (see dotted line in _fig. 101_). The
edges of the longer sides of the ordinary mats are bound with a narrow
strip of black linen, as before remarked. In the houses of the nobles this
border strip has figures worked into it in black and white, as may be seen
by reference to Japanese illustrated books showing interiors. These mats
fit tightly, and the floor upon which they rest, never being in sight, is
generally made of rough boards with open joints. The mat, as you step upon
it, yields slightly to the pressure of the foot; and old mats get to be
slightly uneven and somewhat hard from continual use. From the nature of
this soft‐matted floor shoes are never worn upon it,—the Japanese
invariably leaving their wooden clogs outside the house, either on the
stepping‐stones or on the earth‐floor at the entrance. The wearing of
one’s shoes in the house is one of the many coarse and rude ways in which
a foreigner is likely to offend these people. The hard heels of a boot or
shoe not only leave deep indentations in the upper matting, but oftentimes
break through. Happily, however, the act of removing one’s shoes on
entering the house is one of the very few customs that foreigners
recognize,—the necessity of compliance being too obvious to dispute. In
spring‐time, or during a rain of long duration, the mats become damp and
musty; and when a day of sunshine comes they are taken up and stacked,
like cards, in front of the house to dry. They are also removed at times
and well beaten. Their very nature affords abundant hiding‐places for
fleas, which are the unmitigated misery of foreigners who travel in Japan;
though even this annoyance is generally absent in private houses of the
better classes, as is the case with similar pests in our country.
Upon these mats the people eat, sleep, and die; they represent the bed,
chair, lounge, and sometimes table, combined. In resting upon them the
Japanese assume a kneeling position,—the legs turned beneath, and the
haunches resting upon the calves of the legs and the inner sides of the
heels; the toes turned in so that the upper and outer part of the instep
bears directly on the mats. _Fig. 102_ represents a woman in the attitude
of sitting. In old people one often notices a callosity on that part of
the foot which comes in contact with the mat, and but for a knowledge of
the customs of the people in this matter might well wonder how such a
hardening of the flesh could occur in such an odd place. This position is
so painful to a foreigner that it is only with a great deal of practice he
can become accustomed to it. Even the Japanese who have been abroad for
several years find it excessively difficult and painful to resume this
habit. In this attitude the Japanese receive their company. Hand‐shaking
is unknown, but bows of various degrees of profundity are made by placing
the hands together upon the mats and bowing until the head oftentimes
touches the hands. In this ceremony the back is kept parallel with the
floor, or nearly so.
[Fig. 102.—Attitude of woman in sitting.]
Fig. 102.—Attitude of woman in sitting.
At meal‐times the food is served in lacquer and porcelain dishes on
lacquer trays, placed upon the floor in front of the kneeling family; and
in this position the repast is taken.
At night a heavily wadded comforter is placed upon the floor; another
equally thick is provided for a blanket, a pillow of diminutive
proportions for a head‐support,—and the bed is made. In the morning these
articles are stowed away in a large closet. Further reference will be made
to bedding in the proper place.
A good quality of mats can be made for one dollar and a half a‐piece;
though they sometimes cost three or four dollars, and even a higher price.
The poorest mats cost from sixty to eighty cents a‐piece. The matting for
the entire house represented in plan _fig. 97_ cost fifty‐two dollars and
fifty cents.
Reference has already been made to the sliding screens, and as they form
so important and distinct a feature in the Japanese house, a more special
description of them is necessary. In our American houses a lintel is the
horizontal beam placed over the door; this is cased with wood, and has a
jamb or recess corresponding to the vertical recesses into which the door
shuts. For the sake of clearness, we may imagine a lintel running entirely
across the room from one corner to the other, and this is the _kamoi_ of
the Japanese room. The beam is not cased. On its under surface run two
deep and closely parallel grooves, and directly beneath this _kamoi_ on
the floor a surface of wood shows in which are two exceedingly shallow
grooves. This surface is level with the mats; and in these grooves the
screens run. The grooves in the _kamoi_ are made deep, in order that the
screens may be lifted out of the floor‐grooves and then dropped from the
upper ones, and thus removed. In this way a suite of rooms can be quickly
turned into one, by the removal of the screens. The grooves are
sufficiently wide apart to permit the screens being pushed by each other.
From the adjustable nature of these sliding partitions one may have the
opening between the rooms of any width he desires.
[Fig. 103.—Section through verandah and guest‐room.]
Fig. 103.—Section through verandah and guest‐room.
There are two forms of these sliding screens,—the one kind, called
_fusuma,_ forming the partitions between rooms; the other kind, called
_shōji,_ coming on the outer sides of the rooms next to the verandah, and
forming the substitutes for windows (_fig. 103_).
The _fusuma_ forming the movable partitions between the rooms are covered
on both sides with thick paper; and as it was customary in past times to
use Chinese paper for this purpose, these devices are also called _kara‐
kami,_—“China‐paper.” The frame is not unlike the frame used for the
outside screens, consisting of thin vertical and horizontal strips of wood
forming a grating, with the meshes four or five inches in width, and two
inches in height. The outside frame or border is usually left plain, as
is the case with most of their wood‐work. It is not uncommon, however, to
see these frames lacquered. The material used for covering them consists
of a stout, thick, and durable paper; and this is often richly decorated.
Sometimes a continuous scene will stretch like a panorama across the whole
side of a room. The old castles contain some celebrated paintings on these
_fusuma,_ by famous artists. The use of heavy gold‐leaf in combination
with the paintings produces a decorative effect rich beyond description.
In the commoner houses the _fusuma_ are often undecorated save by the
paper which covers them; and the material for this purpose is infinite in
its variety,—some kinds being curiously wrinkled, other kinds seeming to
have interwoven in their texture the delicate green threads of some sea‐
weed; while other kinds still will have the rich brown sheaths of bamboo
shoots worked into the paper, producing a quaint and pleasing effect.
Often the paper is perfectly plain; and if by chance an artist friend
comes to the house, he is asked to leave some little sketch upon these
surfaces as a memento of his visit: others perhaps may have already
covered portions of the surface with some landscape or spray of flowers.
In old inns one has often pointed out to him the work of some famous
artist, who probably paid his score in this way.
While the _fusuma_ are almost invariably covered with thick and opaque
paper, it occurs sometimes that light is required in a back‐room; in that
case, while the upper and lower third of the _fusuma_ retains its usual
character, the central third has a _shōji_ inserted,—that is, a slight
frame‐work covered with white paper, through which light enters as in the
outside screens. This frame is removable, so that it can be re‐covered
with paper when required. This frame‐work is often made in ornamental
patterns, geometrical or natural designs being common. In summer another
kind of frame may be substituted in the _fusuma,_ termed a _yoshi‐do,_ in
which a kind of rush called _yoshi_ takes the place of paper; the _yoshi_
is arranged in a close grating through which the air has free access and a
little light may enter. The _fusuma_ may be entirely composed of _yoshi_
and the appropriate frame‐work to hold it. One of this kind is represented
in _fig. 104_. The lower portion consists of a panel of dark cedar, in
which are cut or perforated the figures of bats; above this panel are
transverse bars of light cedar, and filling up the border of the frame is
a close grating of brown reeds or rushes placed vertically; at the top is
a wide interspace crossed by a single root of bamboo. The _yoshi_
resembles miniature bamboo, the rods being the size of an ordinary wheat‐
straw, and having a warm brown tint. This is employed in many ways in the
decoration of interiors, and the use of so fragile and delicate a material
in house‐finish is one of the many indications of the quiet and gentle
manners of the Japanese.
[Fig. 104.—Reed‐screen.]
Fig. 104.—Reed‐screen.
Oftentimes a narrow permanent partition occurs in which is an opening,—the
width of one _fusuma,—_ which takes the place of our swinging and slamming
door. In this case the _fusuma_ is a more solid and durable structure. The
one shown in _fig. 105_ is of the nature of a door, since it guards the
opening which leads from the hall to the other apartments of the house. A
rich and varied effect is produced by the use and arrangement of light and
dark bamboo and heavily‐grained wood, the central panels being of dark
cedar. In the vestibule one often sees sliding screens consisting of a
single panel of richly‐grained cedar.
[Fig. 105.—Sliding panel.]
Fig. 105.—Sliding panel.
Conveniences for pushing back the _fusuma_ are secured in a variety of
ways; the usual form consists of an oval or circular plate of thin metal,
having a depressed area, inserted in the _fusuma_ in about the same
position a doorknob would be with us. These are called _hikite,_ and
often present beautiful examples of metal‐work, being elaborately carved
and sometimes enamelled. The same caprices and delights in ornamentation
seen elsewhere in their work find full play in the designs of the
_hikite._ _Fig. 106_ shows one from the house of a noble; its design
represents an inkstone and two brushes,—the brushes being silvered and
tipped with lacquer, while in the recessed portion is engraved a dragon.
Fig. 107 represents one made of copper, in which the leaves and berries
are enamelled; the leaves green, and the berries red and white. Figs. 108
and 109 show more pretentious as well as cheaper forms, the designs being
stamped and not cut by hand. Sometimes _hikite_ are made of porcelain. In
the cheaper forms of _fusuma,_ the _hikite_ consists of a depressed area
in the paper formed by a modification of the frame itself. In
illustrations of fine interiors one often notices a form of _hikite_ from
which hang two short cords of silk tied in certain formal ways, on the
ends of which are tassels. From the almost universal presence of these in
old illustrated books, one is led to believe that formerly the cord was
the usual handle by which the _fusuma_ was pulled back and forth, and that
these gradually fell into disuse, the recessed plate of metal alone
remaining. This form of _hikite_ is rarely seen to‐day, though a few of
the old Daimios’ houses still possess it. _Fig. 110_ represents two forms
copied from a book entitled “Tategu Hinagata.”
[Fig. 106.—Hikite.]
Fig. 106.—Hikite.
[Fig. 107.—Hikite.]
Fig. 107.—Hikite.
[Fig. 108.—Hikite.]
Fig. 108.—Hikite.
[Fig. 109.—Hikite.]
Fig. 109.—Hikite.
[Fig. 110.—Hikite with cord.]
Fig. 110.—Hikite with cord.
The outside screens, or _shōji,_ which take the place of our windows, are
those screens which border the verandah, or come on that side of the room
towards the exterior wall of the house. These consist of a light frame‐
work made of thin bars of wood crossing and matched into each other,
leaving small rectangular interspaces. The lower portion of the _shōji,_
to the height of a foot from the floor, is usually a wood‐panel, as a
protection against careless feet as well as to strengthen the frame. The
_shōji_ are covered on the outside with white paper. The only light the
room receives when the _shōji_ are closed comes through this paper, and
the room is flooded with a soft diffused light which is very agreeable.
The _hikite_ for pushing the _shōji_ back is arranged by one of the
rectangular spaces being papered on the opposite side, thus leaving a
convenient recess for the fingers.
Sometimes little holes or rents are accidentally made in this paper‐
covering of the _shōji;_ and in the mending of these places the Japanese,
ever true in their artistic feeling, repair the damage, not by square bits
of paper as we should probably, but by cutting out pretty designs of
cherry or plum blossoms and patching the rents with these. When observing
this artistic device I have often wondered how the broken panes of some of
our country houses must look to a Japanese,—the repairs being effected by
the use of dirty bags stuffed with straw, or more commonly by battered
hats jammed into the gaps. Sometimes the frame of a _shōji_ gets sprung or
thrown out of its true rectangular shape; this is remedied by inserting at
intervals in the meshes of the frame‐work elastic strips of bamboo, and
the constant pressure of these strips in one direction tends to bring the
frame straight again. _Fig. 111_ illustrates the appearance of this; the
curved lines representing the elastic strips.
[Fig. 111.—Straightening shōji frame.]
Fig. 111.—Straightening shōji frame.
There are innumerable designs employed in the _shōji;_ and in this, as in
many other parts of the interior, the Japanese show an infinite amount of
taste and ingenuity. _Fig. 112_ illustrates one of these ornamental forms.
At present in the cities it is common to see a narrow strip of window
glass inserted across the _shōji_ about two feet from the floor. It seems
odd at first sight to see it placed so low, until one recalls the fact
that the inmates sit on the mats, and the glass in this position is on a
level with their line of vision. As a general rule the designs for the
_shōji_ are more simple than those employed for certain exterior openings
which may be regarded as windows, while those which cover the openings
between the rooms are most complex and elaborate. Further reference,
however, will be made to these in the proper place.
[Fig. 112.—Shōji with ornamental frame.]
Fig. 112.—Shōji with ornamental frame.
It has been necessary to anticipate the special description of the
details of a room in so far as a description of the mats and screens were
concerned, since a general idea of the interior could not be well
understood without clearly understanding the nature of those objects which
form inseparable elements of every Japanese room, and which are so unlike
anything to which we are accustomed. Having given these features, it may
be well to glance at a general view of the few typical rooms before
examining farther into the details of their finish.
The room shown in _fig. 96_ gives a fair idea of the appearance of the
guest‐room with its two bays or recesses, the _tokonoma_ and _chigai‐
dana,_—one of which, the _tokonoma,_ is a clear recess, in which usually
hangs a picture; and in the other is a small closet and shelf, and an
additional shelf above, closed by sliding doors. The sketch was taken from
the adjoining room, the _fusuma_ between the two having been removed. The
grooves for the _fusuma_ may be seen in the floor and in the _kamoi_
overhead. The farther recess is called the _tokonoma,_ which means
literally, “bed‐space.” This recess, or at least its raised platform, is
supposed to have been anciently used for the bed‐place.(15)
Let us pause for a moment to consider the peculiar features of this room.
The partition separating the two recesses has for its post a stick of
timber, from which the bark only has been removed; and this post, or
_toko‐bashira_ as it is called, is almost invariably a stick of wood in
its natural state, or with the bark only removed; and if it is gnarled, or
tortuous in grain, or if it presents knots or burls, it is all the more
desirable. Sometimes the post may be hewn in such a way that in section it
has an octagonal form,—the cutting being done in broad scarfs, giving it a
peculiar appearance as shown in _fig. 113_. Sometimes the post may have
one or two branches above, which are worked into the structure as an
ornamental feature. The ceiling of the _tokonoma_ is usually, if not
always, flush, with the ceiling of the room, while that of the _chigai‐
dana_ is much lower. The floor of the _tokonoma_ is higher than that of
the _chigai‐dana,_ and its sill may be rough or finished; and even when
finished squarely, some natural surface may be left through the curvature
of the stick from which it has been hewn, and which had been selected for
this very peculiarity,—a feature, by the way, that our carpenters would
regard as a blemish. The floor of the _tokonoma_ is in nearly every case a
polished plank; the floor of the _chigai‐dana_ is also of polished wood. A
large and deep _tokonoma_ may have a mat, or _tatami,_ fitted into the
floor; and this is generally bordered with a white strip, and not with
black as in the floor _tatami._ The _tatami_ in this place is found in the
houses of the Daimios.
[Fig. 113.—Portion of Toko‐Bashira.]
Fig. 113.—Portion of Toko‐Bashira.
[Figs. 114, 115, 116, and 117. Ornamental‐headed nails.]
Figs. 114, 115, 116, and 117. Ornamental‐headed nails.
Spanning the _tokonoma_ above is a finished beam a foot or more below the
ceiling, the interspace above being plastered, as are the walls of both
recesses. A similar beam spans the _chigai‐dana_ at a somewhat lower
level. When the cross‐beam of the _chigai‐dana_ connects with the _toko‐
bashira,_ as well as in the joining of other horizontal beams with the
uprights, ornamental‐headed nails are used. These are often of
elaborately‐wrought metal, representing a variety of natural or
conventional forms. Figs. 114, 115, 116, and 117 present a few of the
cheaper forms used; these being of cast metal, the finer lines only having
been cut by hand. These nails, or _kazari‐kugi,_ are strictly ornamental,
having only a spur behind to hold them into the wood.
The partition dividing these two recesses often has an ornamental opening,
either in the form of a small window barred with bamboo, or left open; or
this opening may be near the floor, with its border made of a curved stick
of wood, as in the figure we are now describing.
In the _chigai‐dana_ there are always one or more shelves ranged in an
alternating manner, with usually a continuous shelf above closed by
sliding doors. A little closet on the floor in the corner of the recess is
also closed by screens, as shown in the figure. The wood‐work of this may
be quaintly‐shaped sticks or highly‐polished wood.
This room illustrates very clearly a peculiar feature in Japanese
decoration,—that of avoiding, as far as possible, bi‐lateral symmetry.
Here are two rooms of the same size and shape, the only difference
consisting in the farther room having two recesses, while the room nearer
has a large closet closed by sliding screens. It will be observed,
however, that in the farther room the narrow strips of wood, upon which
the boards of the ceiling rest, run parallel to the _tokonoma,_ while in
the nearer room the strips run at right angles. The mats in the two rooms,
while arranged in the usual manner for an eight‐mat room, are placed in
opposite ways; that is to say, as the mats in front of the _tokonoma_ and
_chigai‐dana_ are always parallel to these recesses, the other mats are
arranged in accordance with these. In the room coming next, the
arrangement of mats, while being the same, have the two mats running
parallel to the line dividing the rooms, and of course the other mats in
accordance with these. This asymmetry is carried out, of course, in the
two recesses, which are unlike in every detail,—their floors as well as
the lower borders of their hanging partitions being at different levels.
And in the details of the _chigai‐dana_ symmetrical arrangement is almost
invariably avoided, the little closet on the floor being at one side,
while a shelf supported on a single prop runs from the corner of this
closet to the other side of the recess; and if another shelf is added,
this is arranged in an equally unsymmetrical manner. In fact everywhere,
in mats, ceiling, and other details, a two‐sided symmetry is carefully
avoided.
How different has been the treatment of similar features in the finish of
American rooms! Everywhere in our apartments, halls, school‐houses, inside
and out, a monotonous bi‐lateral symmetry is elaborated to the minutest
particular, even to bracket and notch in pairs. The fireplace is in the
middle of the room, the mantel, and all the work about this opening,
duplicated with painful accuracy on each side of a median line; every
ornament on the mantel‐shelf is in pairs, and these are arranged in the
same way; a single object, like a French clock, is adjusted in the dead
centre of this shelf, so that each half of the mantel shall get its half
of a clock; a pair of andirons below, and portraits of ancestral
progenitors on each side above keep up this intolerable monotony; and
opposite, two windows with draped curtains parted right and left, and a
symmetrical table or cabinet between the two, are in rigid adherence to
this senseless scheme. And outside the monotony is still more dreadful,
even to the fences, carriage‐way and flower‐beds; indeed, false windows
are introduced in adherence to this inane persistency in traditional
methods. Within ten years some progress has been made among the better
class of American houses in breaking away from this false and tiresome
idea, and our houses look all the prettier for these changes. In
decoration, as well, we have made great strides in the same direction,
thanks to the influence of Japanese methods.
While the general description just given of the _tokonoma_ and _chigai‐
dana_ may be regarded as typical of the prevailing features of these
recesses, nevertheless their forms and peculiarities are infinitely
varied. It is indeed rare to find the arrangement of the shelves and
cupboards in the _chigai‐dana_ alike in any two houses, as will be seen by
a study of the figures which are to follow. Usually these two recesses are
side by side, and run at right angles with the verandah, the _tokonoma_
almost invariably coming next to the verandah. Sometimes, however, these
two recesses may stand at right angles to one another, coming in a corner
of the room away from the verandah. The _tokonoma_ may be seen also
without its companion recess, and sometimes it may occupy an entire side
of the room, in which case it not infrequently accommodates a set of two
or three pictures. When these recesses come side by side, it is usual to
have an entire mat in front of each recess. The guest of honor is seated
on the mat in front of the _tokonoma,_ while the guest next in honor
occupies a mat in front of the _chigai‐dana._
[Fig. 118.—Shelves contrasted with conventional drawing of mist, or
clouds.]
Fig. 118.—Shelves contrasted with conventional drawing of mist, or clouds.
This recess has a variety of names, according to the form and arrangement
of the shelves. It is usually called _chigai‐dana,—_ the word _chigai_
meaning “different,” and _dana,_ “shelf,” as the shelves are arranged
alternately. It is also called _usukasumi‐dana,_ which means “thin mist‐
shelf,”—the shelves in this case being arranged in a way in which they
often conventionally represent mist or clouds, as shown in their formal
designs of these objects (_fig. 118_), in which the upper outline shows
the form of shelf, and the lower outline the conventional drawing of
cloud. When only one shelf is seen it may be called _ichi‐yo‐dana;_ the
form of the shelf suggests such names as willow‐leaf shelf, fish‐shelf,
etc. In this recess, as we have seen, are usually shelves and a cupboard;
and the arrangements of these are almost as numberless as the houses
containing them,—at least it is rare to see two alike. A shelf in the
_chigai‐dana,_ having a rib or raised portion on its free end, is called a
_maki‐mono‐dana._ On this shelf the long picture‐scrolls called _maki‐
mono_ are placed; the ceremonial hat was also placed on one of the
shelves. It was customary to place on top of the cupboard a lacquer‐box,
in which was contained an ink‐stone, brushes, and paper. This box was
usually very rich in its gold lacquer and design. In the houses of the
nobles the top of the cupboard was also used to hold a wooden tablet
called a _shaku,_—an object carried by the nobles in former times, when in
the presence of the Emperor. It was anciently used to make memoranda upon,
but in later days is carried only as a form of court etiquette. The sword‐
rack might also be placed on the cupboard. In honor of distinguished
guests the sword‐rack was placed in the _tokonoma_ in the place of honor;
that is, in the middle of its floor, or _toko,_ in front of the hanging
picture,—though if an incense‐burner occupied this position, then the
sword‐rack was placed at one side. While these recesses were usually
finished with wood in its natural state or simply planed, in the houses of
the nobles this finish was often richly lacquered.
[Fig. 119.—Guest‐room.]
Fig. 119.—Guest‐room.
Resuming our description of interiors, a peculiar form of room is shown in
the house of a gentleman of high rank (_fig. 119_). Here the _tokonoma_
was much larger than its companion recess, which in this case was next to
the verandah. The _chigai‐dana_ was small and low, and the spaces beneath
the shelves were enclosed by sliding screens forming cupboards. The
_tokonoma_ was large and deep, and its floor was covered by a mat or
_tatami;_ the flower‐vase was at one side.
[Fig. 120.—Guest‐room, with recesses in corners.]
Fig. 120.—Guest‐room, with recesses in corners.
The depth of the _tokonoma_ is generally governed by the size of the room.
The appointments of this recess are also always in proportion,—the
pictures and flower‐vase being of large size in the one just described.
[Fig. 121.—Guest‐room showing circular window.]
Fig. 121.—Guest‐room showing circular window.
In a spacious hall in Tokio is a _tokonoma_ six feet in depth, and very
wide. The flower‐vases and pictures in this recess were colossal. In an
adjoining room to the one last figured the _tokonoma_ came in one corner
of the room, and the _chigai‐dana_ was at right angles with it. To the
right of the _tokonoma_ was a permanent partition, in the centre of which
was a circular window closed by _shōji_ which parted right and left. The
_shōji_ may have run within the partition, or rested in a grooved frame on
the other side of the wall. Above this circular window and near the
ceiling was a long rectangular window, also having _shōji,_ which could be
open for ventilation. To the left of the _chigai‐dana_ was a row of deep
cupboards enclosed by a set of sliding screens; above was a broad shelf,
upon the upper surface of which ran _shōji,_ which when opened revealed
another room beyond. The frieze of this recess had a perforated design of
waves (_fig. 120_).
Severe and simple as a Japanese room appears to be, it may be seen by this
figure how many features for decorative display come in. The ornamental
openings or windows with their varied lattices, the sliding screens and
the cupboards with their rich sketches of landscapes and trees, the
natural woods, indeed many of these features might plainly be adopted
without modification for our rooms.
[Fig. 122.—Guest‐room showing writing‐place.]
Fig. 122.—Guest‐room showing writing‐place.
[Fig. 123.—Guest‐room with wide tokonoma.]
Fig. 123.—Guest‐room with wide tokonoma.
In another room (_fig. 121_) of a gentleman famous for his invention of
silk‐reeling machinery the _tokonoma,_ instead of being open to the
verandah, was protected by a permanent partition filling half the side of
the room bordering the verandah. In this partition was a large circular
window, having a graceful bamboo frame‐work. This opening was closed on
the outside by a _shōji,_ which hung on hooks and could be removed when
required. In this case the honored guest, when seated in front of the
_tokonoma,_ is protected from the wind and sun while the rest of the room
may be open. In the place of this partition there is often seen, in houses
of the better class, a recess having a low shelf, with cupboards beneath
and an ornamental window above. This is the writing‐place (_fig. 122_);
and upon the shelf are placed the ink‐stone, water‐bottle, brush‐rest and
brushes, paper‐weight, and other conveniences of a literary man. Above are
often suspended a bell and wooden hammer, to call the servants when
required. A hanging vase of flowers is often suspended from the partition
above. For want of an original sketch showing this recess I have adapted
one from a Japanese book, entitled “Daiku Tana Hinagata,” Vol. II. Those
who have chanced to see the club rooms of the Koyokuan will recall the
elaborate and beautiful panel of geometric work that fills the window of a
recess of this nature.
[Fig. 124.—Small guest‐room.]
Fig. 124.—Small guest‐room.
In _Fig. 123_ the _tokonoma_ occupies almost the entire side of the room,
the _chigai‐dana_ being reduced to an angular cupboard placed in the
corner and a small hooded partition hanging down from above; the small
window near by, with bamboo lattice, opened into another room beyond. A
_tokonoma_ of this kind is available for the display of sets of three or
four pictures. This room was in the house of a former Daimio.
In the next figure (_fig. 124_) we have the sketch of a small room with
the _tokonoma_ facing the verandah, and with no companion recess. The
little window near the floor opened into the _tokonoma,_ which extended
behind the partition as far as the upright beam. The post which formed one
side of the _to__konoma_ was a rough and irregular‐shaped stick. The
treatment of cutting away a larger portion of it, though hardly
constructive, yet added a quaint effect to the room; while the cross‐beam
of the _tokonoma._ usually a square and finished beam, in this case was in
a natural state, the bark only being removed.
[Fig. 125.—Guest‐room of dwelling in Tokio.]
Fig. 125.—Guest‐room of dwelling in Tokio.
In _fig. 125_ is shown a room of the plainest description; it was severe
in its simplicity. Here the _tokonoma,_ though on that side of the room
running at right angles with the verandah, was in the corner of the room,
while the _chigai‐dana_ was next to the verandah. The recesses were quite
deep,—the _chigai‐dana_ having a single broad shelf, as broad as the depth
of the recess, this forming the top of a spacious closet beneath. In the
partition dividing these two recesses was a long narrow rectangular
opening. The little bamboo flower‐holder hanging to the post of the _toko‐
bashira_ had, besides a few flowers, two long twigs of willow, which were
made to bend gracefully in front of the _tokonoma._ The character of this
room indicated that its owner was a lover of the tea‐ceremonies.
[Fig. 126.—Guest‐koom in Kiyomidzu, Kioto.]
Fig. 126.—Guest‐koom in Kiyomidzu, Kioto.
The next figure (_fig. 126_) is that of a room in the second story of the
house of a famous potter in Kioto. This room was remarkable for the purity
of its finish. The _toko‐bashira_ consisted of an unusually twisted stick
of some kind of hard wood, the bark having been removed, exposing a
surface of singular smoothness. The hooded partition over the _chigai‐
dana_ had for its lower border a rich dark‐brown bamboo; the vertical
piece forming the other side of the _chigai‐dana_ was a black post hewn in
an octagonal shape, with curious irregular crosscuts on the faces. The
sliding doors closing the shelf in this recess were covered with gold
paper. The _hikite_ consisted of sections of bamboo let in to the surface.
The plaster of both recesses was a rich, warm, umber color. The ceiling
consisted of large square panels of old cedar richly grained. This room
was comparatively modern, having been built in 1868.
[Fig. 127.—Guest‐room of dwelling in Tokio.]
Fig. 127.—Guest‐room of dwelling in Tokio.
_Fig. 127_ represents a room in the second story of a house in Tokio. The
recesses were remarkably rich and effective. The entire end of the room
formed a recess, having a plaited ceiling; and within this recess were the
_tokonoma_ and _chigai‐dana,_ each having its own hooded partition at a
different level and depth,—the vertical partition usually dividing these
recesses being represented only by a square beam against the wall. A
reference, however, to the figure will convey a clearer idea of these
features than any description. The ceiling, which was quite remarkable in
its way, will be described later.
[Fig. 128.—Guest‐room of a country house.]
Fig. 128.—Guest‐room of a country house.
The next interior (_fig. 128_) represents a room in a country house of the
poorer class. The recesses were of the plainest description. The
_tokonoma_ was modified in a curious way by a break in the partition
above, and beneath, this modification was a shelf wrought out of a black,
worm‐eaten plank from some old shipwreck. The _chigai‐dana_ had an
angular‐shaped shelf in one of its corners, and in the other corner two
little shelves supported by a post. The floor of this recess was on a
level with the mats, while the floor of the _tokonoma_ was only slightly
raised above this level.
The figures of interiors thus far given present some idea of the infinite
variety of design seen in the two recesses which characterize the best
room in the house. The typical form having been shown in _fig. 96_, it
will be seen how far these bays may vary in form and structure while still
possessing the distinguishing features of the _tokonoma_ and _chigai‐
dana._ In the first recess hangs the ever present scroll, upon which may
be a picture; or it may present a number of Chinese characters which
convey some moral precept, or lines from some classical poem. On its floor
rests the vase for flowers, a figure in pottery, an incense burner, a
fragment of quartz, or other object, these being often supported by a
lacquer stand. In the _chigai‐dana_ convenient shelves and closets are
arranged in a variety of ways, to be used for a variety of purposes.
[Fig. 129.—Corner of guest‐room.]
Fig. 129.—Corner of guest‐room.
The arrangement of the cross‐ties in relation to the _tokonoma_ and
_shōji_ is illustrated in _fig. 129_, which shows the corner of a room
with the upper portion of the _tokonoma_ and _shōji_ showing. The use made
of the ornamental‐headed nail is seen where the _kamoi_ joins the corner
post.
In houses of two stories greater latitude is shown in the arrangement of
these recesses. They may come opposite the balcony, and the _chigai‐dana_
may have in its back wall an opening either circular, crescent‐shaped, or
of some other form, from which a pleasing view is obtained either of the
garden below or some distant range beyond.
Thus far we have examined the room which would parallel our drawing‐room
or parlor; the other rooms vary from this in being smaller, and having, of
course, no recesses such as have been described. By an examination of the
plans given in the first part of this chapter, it will be seen how very
simple many of the rooms are,—sometimes having a recess for a case of
drawers or shelves; a closet, possibly, but nothing else to break the
rectangular outline, which may be bounded on all sides by the sliding
_fusuma,_ or have one or more permanent partitions.
Another class of rooms may here be considered, the details of which are
more severely simple even than those of the rooms just described. These
apartments are constructed expressly for ceremonial tea‐parties. A volume
might be filled with a description of the various forms of buildings
connected with these observances; and indeed another volume might be
filled with the minor details associated with their different schools.
In brief, the party comes about by the host inviting a company of four to
attend the tea‐ceremony, and in their presence making the tea in a bowl
after certain prescribed forms, and offering it to the guests. To be more
explicit as to the mode of conducting this ceremony,—the tea is first
prepared by grinding it to a fine, almost impalpable, powder. This may be
done by a servant before the assemblage of the guests, or may be ordered
ground from a tea shop; indeed, the host may grind it himself. This
material, always freshly ground for each party, is usually kept in a
little earthen jar, having an ivory cover,—the well‐known _cha‐ire_ of the
collector. Lacquer‐boxes may also be used for this purpose. The principal
utensils used in the ceremony consist of a _furo,_ or fire‐pot, made of
pottery (or use may be made of a depression in the floor partially filled
with ashes, in which the charcoal may be placed); an iron kettle to boil
the water in; a bamboo dipper of the most delicate construction, to dip
out the water; a wide‐mouthed jar, from which to replenish the water in
the kettle; a bowl, in which the tea is made; a bamboo spoon, to dip out
the powdered tea; a bamboo stirrer, not unlike certain forms of egg‐
beaters, by which the tea is briskly stirred after the hot water has been
added; a square silk cloth, with which to wipe the jar and spoon properly;
a little rest for the tea‐kettle cover, made of pottery or bronze or
section of bamboo; a shallow vessel, in which the rinsings of the tea‐bowl
are poured after washing; a brush, consisting of three feathers of the
eagle or some other large bird, to dust the edge of the fire‐vessel; and
finally a shallow basket, in which is not only charcoal to replenish the
fire, but a pair of metal rods or _hibashi_ to handle the coal, two
interrupted metal rings by which the kettle is lifted off the fire, a
circular mat upon which the kettle is placed, and a small box containing
incense, or bits of wood that give out a peculiar fragrance when burned.
With the exception of the fire‐vessel and an iron kettle, all these
utensils have to be brought in by the host with great formality and in a
certain sequence, and placed with great precision upon the mats after the
prescribed rules of certain schools. In the making of the tea, the
utensils are used in a most exact and formal manner.
The making of the tea, watched by one knowing nothing about the ceremony,
seems as grotesque a performance as one can well imagine. Many of the
forms connected with it seem uselessly absurd; and yet having taken many
lessons in the art of tea‐making, I found that with few exceptions it was
natural and easy; and the guests assembled on such an occasion, though at
first sight appearing stiff, are always perfectly at their ease. The
proper placing of the utensils, and the sequence in handling them and
making the tea are all natural and easy movements, as I have said. The
light wiping of the tea‐jar, and the washing of the bowl and its wiping
with so many peripheral jerks, the dropping of the stirrer against the
side of the bowl with a click in rinsing, and a few of the other usual
movements are certainly grotesquely formal enough; but I question whether
the etiquette of a ceremonious dinner‐party at home, with the decorum
observed in the proper use of each utensil, does not strike a Japanese as
equally odd and incomprehensible when experienced by him for the first
time.
This very brief and imperfect allusion has been made in order to explain,
that so highly do the Japanese regard this ceremony that little isolated
houses are specially constructed for the express purpose of entertaining
tea‐parties. If no house is allotted for the purpose, then a special room
is fitted for it. Many books are devoted to the exposition of the
different schools of tea‐ceremonies, illustrated with diagrams showing the
various ways of placing the utensils, plans of the tea‐rooms, and all the
details involved in the observances.
The tea‐ceremonies have had a profound influence on many Japanese arts.
Particularly have they affected the pottery of Japan; for the rigid
simplicity, approaching an affected roughness and poverty, which
characterizes the tea‐room and many of the utensils used in the ceremony,
has left its impress upon many forms of pottery. It has also had an
influence on even the few rustic and simple adornments allowed in the
room, and has held its sway over the gardens, gateways, and fences
surrounding the house. Indeed, it has had an effect on the Japanese almost
equal to that of Calvinistic doctrines on the early Puritans. The one
suppressed the exuberance of an art‐loving people, and brought many of
their decorative impulses down to a restful purity and simplicity; but in
the case of the Puritans and their immediate descendants, who had but
little of the art‐spirit to spare, their sombre dogmas crushed the little
love for art that might have dawned, and rendered intolerably woful and
sepulchral the lives and homes of our ancestors; and when some faint
groping for art and adornment here and there appeared, it manifested
itself only in wretched samplers and hideous tomb‐stones, with tearful
willow or death‐bed scenes done in cold steel. Whittier gives a good
picture of such a home, in his poem “Among the Hills”:—
bookless, pictureless,
Save the inevitable sampler hung
Over the fireplace; or a mourning‐piece,—
A green‐haired woman, peony‐cheeked, beneath
Impossible willows; the wide‐throated hearth
Bristling with faded pine‐boughs, half concealing
The piled‐up rubbish at the chimney’s back.
[Fig. 130.—Tea‐room in Nan‐en‐ji temple, Kioto.]
Fig. 130.—Tea‐room in Nan‐en‐ji temple, Kioto.
[Fig. 131.—Tea‐room in Fujimi pottery, Nagoya.]
Fig. 131.—Tea‐room in Fujimi pottery, Nagoya.
But we are digressing. Having given some idea of the formal character of
the tea‐ceremonies, it is not to be wondered at that special rooms, and
even special buildings, should be designed and built expressly for those
observances. We give a few illustrations of the interiors of rooms used
for this purpose.
_Fig. 130_ is that of a room in Nan‐en‐ji temple, in Kioto, said to have
been specially designed, in the early part of the seventeenth century, by
Kobori Yenshiu,—a famous master of tea‐ceremonies, and a founder of one of
its schools. The room was exceedingly small, a four and a half mat room I
believe, which is the usual size. The drawing, from necessity of
perspective, makes it appear much larger. The ceiling was of rush and
bamboo; the walls were roughly plastered with bluish‐gray clay; the cross‐
ties and uprights were of pine, with the bark retained. The room had eight
small windows of various sizes, placed at various heights in different
parts of the room; and this was in accordance with Yenshiu’s taste. Only
one recess, the _tokonoma,_ is seen in the room,—in which may hang at the
time of a party a picture, to be replaced, at a certain period of the
ceremony, by a hanging basket of flowers. The _ro,_ or fireplace, is a
depressed area in the floor, deep enough to hold a considerable amount of
ashes, as well as a tripod upon which the kettle rests.
_Fig. 131_ represents an odd‐looking tearoom, at the Fujimi pottery, in
Nagoya, where tea was made and served to us by the potter’s daughter. The
room was simple enough, yet quite ornate compared with the one first
described. The ceiling consisted of a matting of thin wood‐strips, bamboo
and red pine being used for the cross‐ties and uprights. The _tokonoma,_
having a bamboo post, is seen at the left of the figure. The _ro,_ in this
case, was triangular.
[Fig. 132.—Tea‐room in Miyajima.]
Fig. 132.—Tea‐room in Miyajima.
In _fig. 132_ is represented a view of a small tea‐room at Miyajima; the
chasteness of its finish is but feebly conveyed in the figure. Here the
_ro_ was circular, and was placed in a wide plank of polished wood. The
room was connected with other apartments of the house, and did not
constitute a house by itself.
In some houses there is a special place or room adjoining the tea‐room, in
which the tea‐utensils are kept properly arranged, and from which they are
brought when tea is made, and to which they are afterwards returned with
great formality. _Fig. 133_ represents one of these rooms in a house in
Imado, Tokio. In this room the same simplicity of finish was seen. It was
furnished with shelves, a little closet to contain the utensils, and a
depressed area in the floor, having for its bottom a bamboo grating
through which the water ran when emptied into it. Resting upon this bamboo
grating were a huge pottery‐vessel for water and a common hand‐basin of
copper. The floor was of polished wood. At the farther end was the
entrance, by means of a low door, closed by _fusuma._
[Fig. 133.—Kitchen for tea‐utensils.]
Fig. 133.—Kitchen for tea‐utensils.
[Fig. 134.—Tea‐room in Imado, Tokio.]
Fig. 134.—Tea‐room in Imado, Tokio.
In _fig. 134_ is given the view of a room in a Tokio house that was
extremely ornate in its finish. The owner of the house had built it some
thirty years before, and had intended carrying out Chinese ideas of design
and furnishing. Whether he had got his ideas from books, or had evolved
them from his inner consciousness, I do not know; certain it is, that
although he had worked into its structure a number of features actually
brought from China, I must say that in my limited observations in that
country I saw nothing approaching such an interior or building. The effect
of the room was certainly charming, and the most elaborate finish with
expensive woods had been employed in its construction. It seemed
altogether too ornamental for the tea‐ceremonies to suit the Japanese
taste. The ceiling was particularly unique; for running diagonally across
it from one corner to the other was a stout bamboo in two curves, and upon
this bamboo was engraved a Chinese poem. The ceiling on one side of the
bamboo was finished in large square panels of an elaborately‐grained wood;
on the other side were small panels of cedar. Exotic woods, palms, bamboo,
and red‐pine were used for cross‐ties and uprights. The panels of the
little closet in some cases had beautiful designs painted upon them; other
panels were of wood, with the designs inlaid in various colored woods,—the
musical instrument, the _biwa,_ shown in the sketch, being inlaid in this
way. The walls were tinted a sober brown. It was certainly one of the most
unique interiors that I saw in Japan. To the right of the _tokonoma_ the
apartment opened into a small entry which led to a flight of stairs,—for
this room was in the second story of the house. The corner of the room, as
it appeared from the _tokonoma,_ is shown in _fig. 135_. The long, low
window (which also shows in fig. 134) opened on the roof of the entrance
below; another narrower and higher window opened on the roof of an L. In
the little recess, which has for a corner‐post a crooked stick,—the crook
forming one border of an opening in the corner.—was hung a picture or a
basket of flowers.
[Fig. 135.—Corner of the tea‐room shown in Fig. 134.]
Fig. 135.—Corner of the tea‐room shown in Fig. 134.
The second stories of shops are often used as living rooms. _Fig. 136_
represents a room of this nature in a shop in Kawagoye, in Musashi, nearly
three hundred years old. Two long, low windows, opening on the street,
were deeply recessed and heavily barred; above these openings were low
deep cupboards, closed by long sliding doors. The room was dusty and
unused, but I could not help noticing in this old building, as in the old
buildings at home, the heavy character of the framework where it appeared
in sight.
Reference has been made to the fact that _kura,_ or fire‐proof buildings,
are often fitted up for living‐rooms. _Fig. 137_ (see page 160) represents
the lower room of the corner building shown on page 75 (_fig. 57_). It has
already been stated that the walls of such a building are of great
thickness, and that one small window and doorway are often the only
openings in the room. The walls are consequently cold and damp at certain
seasons of the year.
For the fitting up of such a room, to adapt it for a living‐place, a light
frame‐work of bamboo is constructed, which stands away from the walls at a
distance of two or three feet; upon this, cloth is stretched like a
curtain. The frame‐work forms a ceiling as well, so that the rough walls
and beams of the floor above are concealed by this device. At one side the
cloth is arranged to be looped up like a curtain, so that one may pass
outside the drapery.
[Fig. 136.—Room in second story of an old building in Kawagoye, Musashi.]
Fig. 136.—Room in second story of an old building in Kawagoye, Musashi.
The owner of this apartment was an eminent antiquarian, and the walls of
the room were lined with shelves and cases which were filled with old
books and pictures, rare scrolls, and bric‐a‐brac. A loft above, to which
access was gained by a perilous flight of steps, was filled with ancient
relics of all kinds,—stone implements, old pottery, quaint writing‐desks,
and rare manuscripts. The cloth which formed this supplementary partition
was of a light, thin texture; and when the owner went in search of some
object on the other side of it, I could trace him by his candle‐light as
he wandered about behind the curtain. The furniture us in the room, and
shown in the sketch,—consisting of bookshelves, table, _hibachi,_ and
other objects,—was in nearly every case precious antiques.
That the rooms of _kura_ were fitted up in this way in past times is
evident in the fact that old books not only represent this method in their
pictures, but special details of the construction of the framework are
given. In an old book in the possession of Mr. K——, published one hundred
and eighty years ago, a figure of one of these frames is given, with all
the details of its structure, metal sockets, key‐bolts, etc., a copy of
which may be seen in _fig. 138_.
[Fig. 137.—Room in kura fitted up as a library, Tokio.]
Fig. 137.—Room in kura fitted up as a library, Tokio.
In connection with this room, and the manner of looping up the curtains at
the side, I got from this scholar the first rational explanation of the
meaning of the two narrow bands which hang down from the upper part of the
usual form of a Japanese picture,—the _kake‐mono._ That these were
survivals of useful appendages,—rudimentary organs, so to speak, there
could be no doubt. Mr. K——told me that in former times the pictures,
mainly of a religious character, were suspended from a frame. Long bands
trailed down behind the picture; and shorter ones, so as not to obscure
it, hung down in front. When the picture was rolled up, it was held in
position by tying these bands. When the custom came to hang these pictures
permanently against the wall, the long bands were finally discarded, while
the shorter ones in front survived. In old books there are illustrated
methods by which curtain‐like screens hanging on frames were tied up in
this way,—the long bands being behind, and the short ones showing in
front. When the wind blew through the apartment the curtains were tied up;
and, curiously enough, the bands on a _kake‐mono_ are called _fū‐tai,_ or
_kaze‐obi,_ which literally means “wind‐bands.” This is the explanation
given me; but it is quite probable that large pictures hanging against the
walls, when disturbed by the wind, were tied up by these bands.
[Fig. 138.—Framework for draping room in kura.]
Fig. 138.—Framework for draping room in kura.
While the _kura_ generally stands isolated from the dwelling‐house, it is
often connected with the house by a light structure of wood, roofed over,
and easily demolished in case of a fire. Such an apartment may be used for
a kitchen, or porch to a kitchen, or store‐room for household utensils. A
figure is here given (_fig. 139_) showing the appearance of a structure
of this kind, which is lightly attached to the sides of the _kura._ This
apartment was used as a store‐room, and in the sketch is shown a wooden
case, lanterns, and buckets, and such objects as might accumulate in a
shed or store‐room at home.
[Fig. 139.—Space between dwelling and kura, roofed over and utilized as a
kitchen in Tokio.]
Fig. 139.—Space between dwelling and kura, roofed over and utilized as a
kitchen in Tokio.
The ponderous doors of the _kura,_ which are kept permanently open, have
casings of boards held in place by a wooden pin, which passes through an
iron staple in the door. This casing is to protect the door—which, like
the walls of the _kura,_ is composed of mud and plaster supported by a
stout frame—from being scarred and battered; and at the same time it is so
arranged that in case of fire it can be instantly removed and the door
closed. The light structure forming this porch may quickly burn down,
leaving the _kura_ intact.
[Fig. 140.—Doorway of an old kura in Kioto.]
Fig. 140.—Doorway of an old kura in Kioto.
Oftentimes the outside of the _kura_ has a board‐casing kept in place by
long wooden strips, which drop into staples that are firmly attached to
the walls of the _kura._ These hooks may be seen in _fig. 57_, though in
the case of this building the wooden casing had never been applied.
Casings of this nature are provided the better to preserve the walls from
the action of the weather.
In _fig. 139_ (see page 162) the _kura_ had been originally built some
fifteen feet from the main house, and subsequently the intervening space
had been roofed over as shown in the drawing.
The doors of the _kura_ are ponderous structures, and are usually left
open for ventilation; a heavily grated sliding‐door, however, closes the
entrance effectually when the thick doors are left open. _Fig. 140_
represents the doorway of an old _kura_ in Kioto illustrating these
features. In _fig. 141_ the large key is the one belonging to the inner
grated door, while fig. 142 shows the padlock to the outer doors.
[Fig. 141.—Key to kura, and bunch of keys.]
Fig. 141.—Key to kura, and bunch of keys.
[Fig. 142.—Padlock to kura.]
Fig. 142.—Padlock to kura.
The upper room of the _kura_ is often utilized as a store‐room, taking the
place of the country attic; and one may find here bundles of dried herbs,
corn, an old spinning‐wheel, chests, and indeed just such objects as
ultimately find a resting‐place in our attics at home. In this section it
would have been more systematic to deal with the _tokonoma_ and _chigai‐
dana_ separately; but in the description of interiors, it was difficult to
describe them without including under the same consideration these
recesses, as they form an integral part of the principal room.
In my remarks on house‐construction, reference was made to the ceiling and
the way in which it is made and held in place, the form of ceiling there
described being the almost universal one throughout the country. The
Japanese word for ceiling is _tenjo,_—literally, “heaven’s well.”
In selecting wood for the ceiling, great care is taken to secure boards in
which the grain is perfectly even and regular, with no signs of knots. A
wood much prized for the ceiling, as well as for other interior finish, is
a kind of cedar dug up from swamps in Hakone, and other places in Japan.
It is of a rich, warm gray or brown color; and oftentimes planks of
enormous thickness are secured for this purpose. This wood is called _Jin‐
dai‐sugi,_ meaning “cedar of God’s age.” A wood called _hi‐no‐ki_ is often
used for ceilings.
It is rare to see a ceiling differing from the conventional form,
consisting of light, thin, square strips as ceiling‐beams, upon which rest
crosswise thin planks of wood with their edges overlapping. One sees this
form of ceiling everywhere, from north to south, in inns, private
dwellings, and shops. This form is as universal in Japan as is the
ordinary white plaster‐ceiling with us. In many other forms of ceiling,
however, wood of the most tortuous grain is preferred.
In the little houses made for the tea‐parties the ceiling is often of some
rustic design,—either a layer of rush resting on bamboo rafters, or thin,
wide strips of wood braided or matted like basket‐work.
Sometimes the ceiling instead of being flat is arching; that is, the sides
run up like a roof, and meet above in a flat panel, or the ceiling may be
made up of panels either square or angular.
[Fig. 143.—Panelled ceiling.]
Fig. 143.—Panelled ceiling.
A very elaborate and beautiful ceiling is seen in _fig. 127_ (see page
146). The structure is supposed to be in imitation of country thatched
roof. The centre panel consists of a huge plank of cedar, the irregular
grain cut out in such a way as to show the lines in high‐relief, giving
it the appearance of very old wood, in which the softer lines have been
worn away. The round sticks which form the frame for the plank,
and those bordering the ceiling, as well as those running from the
corners of the ceiling to the corners of the plank, are of red
pine with the bark unremoved. The radiating rafters are of large
yellow bamboo, while the smaller beams running parallel to
the sides of the room consist of small dark‐brown and polished
bamboo; the body of the ceiling is made up of a brown rush, called
_hagi_,—this representing the thatch. This ceiling was simply
charming; it was clean, pure, and effective; it gave the room a
lofty appearance, and was moreover thoroughly constructive.
Our architects might well imitate it without the modification of
a single feature.
The ceiling figured on page 156 (_fig. 134_) consisted of square panels of
cedar, arranged on either side of a double curved bamboo, which ran across
the ceiling diagonally from one corner of the room to another. Upon the
bamboo was engraved a Chinese poem, in beautiful characters. The beauty of
this ceiling consisted not only in its general quaint effect, but in the
rich woods and good workmanship everywhere displayed in its construction.
The same might be said of the ceiling shown in fig. 126 (see page 145);
here, indeed, the whole room was like a choice cabinet. Lately, these
panelled ceilings have come more into use. _Fig. 143_ represents a form of
ceiling which may be occasionally seen, consisting of large, square planks
of _sugi_, with a framework of bamboo or _keyaki_ wood.
It seems a little curious that the space enclosed under the roof (a garret
in fact) is rarely, if ever, utilized. Here the rats hold high carnival at
night; and one finds it difficult to sleep, on account of the racket these
pests keep up in racing and fighting upon the thin and resonant boards
composing the ceiling. The rats make a thoroughfare of the beam which runs
across the end of the house from one corner to the other; and this beam is
called the _nedzumi‐bashira,_—literally, “rat‐post.”
In my remarks on house‐construction I made mention of the plaster walls,
and of the various colored sands used in the plaster. There are many ways
of treating this surface, by which curious effects are obtained. Little
gray and white pebbles are sometimes mixed with the plaster. The shells of
a little fresh‐water bivalve (_Corbicula_) are pounded into fragments and
mixed with the plaster. In the province of Mikawa I saw an iron‐gray
plaster, in which had been mixed the short fibres of finely‐chopped hemp,
the fibres glistening in the plaster; the effect was odd and striking. In
the province of Omi it was not unusual to see white plastered surfaces
smoothly finished, in which iron‐dust had been blown evenly upon the
surface while the plaster was yet moist, and, oxidizing, had given a warm
brownish‐yellow tint to the whole.
In papering plaster‐walls rice‐paste is not used, as the larvae of certain
insects are liable to injure the surface. In lieu of this a kind of
seaweed similar to Iceland moss is used, the mucilaginous portion of which
forms the cement. This material is used in sizing paper, and also in the
pasteboard or stiff paper which is made by sticking a number of sheets
together.
Plastered rooms are often papered; and even when the plaster is tinted and
the plastered surface is left exposed, is customary to use a paper called
_koshi‐bari,_ which is spread on the wall to a height of two feet or more
in order to protect the clothes from the plaster. This treatment is seen
in common rooms.
Simple and unpretending as the interior of a Japanese house appears to be,
it is wonderful upon how many places in their apparently naked rooms the
ingenuity and art‐taste of the cabinet‐maker can be expended. Naturally,
the variety of design and finish of the _tokonoma_ and _chigai‐dana_ is
unlimited save by the size of their areas; for with the sills and upright
posts, the shelves and little closets, sliding‐doors with their surfaces
for the artists’ brush, and the variety of woods employed, the artisan has
a wide field in which to display his peculiar skill. The ceiling, though
showing less variety in its structure, nevertheless presents a good field
for decorative work, though any exploits in this direction outside the
conventional form become very costly, on account of the large surface to
deal with and the expensive cabinet‐work required. Next to the _chigai‐
dana_ in decorative importance (excepting of course the ceiling, which, as
we have already seen, rarely departs from the almost universal character
of thin boards and transverse strips), I am inclined to believe that the
_ramma_ receives the most attention from the designer, and requires more
delicate work from the cabinet‐maker. It is true that the areas to cover
are small, yet the designs which may be carved or latticed,—geometric
designs in fret‐work, or perforated designs in panel,—must have a strength
and prominence not shown in the other interior finishings of the room.
The _kamoi,_ or lintel, as we have seen, is a beam that runs entirely
across the side of the room at the height of nearly six feet from the
floor (_fig. 103_). On its under surface are the grooves in which the
_fusuma_ run; between this beam and the ceiling is a space of two feet or
more depending, of course, upon the height of the room. The height of the
beam itself from the floor, a nearly constant factor, is always lower than
are our doorways, because the average height of the Japanese people is
less than ours; and aggravatingly low to many foreigners is this beam, as
can be attested by those who have cracked their heads against it in
passing from one room to another. The space between the _kamoi_ and the
ceiling is called the _ramma,_ and offers another field for the exercise
of that decorative faculty which comes so naturally to the Japanese. This
space may be occupied simply by a closed plastered partition, just as in
our houses we invariably fill up a similar space which comes over wide
folding doors between a suite of rooms. In the Japanese room, however, it
is customary to divide this space into two or more panels,—usually two;
and in this area the designer and wood‐worker have ample room to carry out
those charming surprises which are to be seen in Japanese interiors.
[Fig. 144.—Ramma in Hakòne Village.]
Fig. 144.—Ramma in Hakòne Village.
The designs are of course innumerable, and may consist of diaper‐work and
geometric designs; or each panel may consist of a single plank of wood
with the design wrought out, while the remaining wood is cut away, leaving
the dark shadows of the room beyond as a back‐ground to the design; or the
design may be in the form of a thin panel of cedar, in which patterns of
birds, flowers, waves, dragons, or other objects are cut out in perforated
work. Fret‐work panels are very often used in the decoration of the
_ramma,_ of designs similar to the panels now imported from Japan; but the
figures are worked out larger patterns.
[Fig. 145.—Bamboo ramma.]
Fig. 145.—Bamboo ramma.
Light and airy as the work seems to be, it must nevertheless be strongly
made, as it is rare to see any displaced or broken portions in panels of
this nature.
The design represented in _fig. 144_ is from a _ramma_ in an old house in
the village of Hakòne. The room was very large, and there were four panels
in the _ramma,_ which was nearly twenty‐four feet long. A light trellis of
bamboo is a favorite and common device for this area. Fig. 145 gives a
simple The design represented in _fig. 144_ is from a _ramma_ in an old
house in the village of Hakòne. The room was very large, and there were
four panels in the _ramma,_ which was nearly twenty‐four feet long. A
light trellis of bamboo is a favorite and common device for this area.
_Fig. 145_ gives a simple form of this nature, which may be often seen. In
a house in Tokio we saw a similar design carried out in porcelain (_fig.
146_),—the central vertical rod having a dark‐blue glaze, while the
lighter horizontal rods were white in color. It should be understood that
in every case the interspaces between the designs, except in the
perforated ones, are freely open to the next room. By means of these open
_ramma_ much better ventilation of the rooms is secured when the _fusuma_
is closed. A combination of perforated panels and a grating of bamboo is
often seen (_fig. 147_).
[Fig. 146.—Porcelain ramma in Tokio.]
Fig. 146.—Porcelain ramma in Tokio.
[Fig. 147.—Ramma of bamboo and perforated panel.]
Fig. 147.—Ramma of bamboo and perforated panel.
The _ramma_ requiring great skill in design and execution are those in
which the wood‐carver, having his design drawn upon a solid plank, cuts
away all the wood about it, leaving the design free; and this is then
delicately wrought.
In an old house at Gojio, Yamato, is a _ramma_ having a single panel the
length of the room. _Fig. 148_ illustrates this design, which consists of
chrysanthemums supported on a bamboo trellis, and was carved out of a
single plank, the flowers and delicate tracery of the leaves being wrought
with equal care on both sides; in fact, the _ramma_ in every case is
designed to be seen from both rooms. I have often noticed that in quite
old houses the _ramma_ was of this description. In an old house at
Yatsushiro, in Higo, I saw a very beautiful form of this nature (_fig.
149_). The _ramma_ was divided into two panels, and the design was
continuous from one panel to the other. It represented a rustic method of
conducting water by means of wooden troughs, propped up by branched
sticks, and sticks tied together. The representation of long leaves of
some aquatic plant, with their edges ragged by partial decay, was
remarkably well rendered. The plank out of which the design was wrought
must have been less than an inch in thickness, and yet the effect of
relief was surprising. A white substance like chalk filled the interstices
of the carving, giving the appearance that at one time the whole design
had been whitened and the coloring matter had subsequently worn away. The
house was quite old, and the work had been done by a local artist.
It is a remarkable fact, and one well worth calling attention to, that in
the smaller towns and villages, in regions far apart, there seem to be
artistic workmen capable of designing and executing these graceful and
artistic carvings,—for such they certainly are. Everywhere throughout the
Empire we find good work of all kinds, and evidence that workmen of all
crafts have _learned_ their trades,—not “served” them,—and are employed at
home. In other words, the people everywhere appreciate artistic designs
and the proper execution of them; and, consequently, men capable in their
various lines find their services in demand wherever they may be. I do not
mean to imply by this general statement that good workmen in Japan are not
drawn to the larger cities for employment, but rather that the smaller
towns and villages everywhere are not destitute of such a class, and that
the distribution of such artisans is far more wide and general than with
us. And how different such conditions are with us may be seen in the fact
that there are hundreds of towns and thousands of villages in our country
where the carpenter is just capable of making a shelter from the weather;
and if he attempts to beautify it—but we will not awaken the recollection
of those startling horrors of petticoat scallops fringing the eaves and
every opening, and rendered, if possible, more hideous by the painter.
Throughout the breadth and length of that land of thirty‐six million
people men capable of artistic work, and people capable of appreciating
such work, abound. In our land of fifty‐five millions one has to seek the
great centres of population for similar work,—for elsewhere the good work
and its appreciation are exceptional.
At Nagoya, in the house of a poor man, I saw a simple and ingenious form
of _ramma,_ in which two thin boards, one of light and the other of dark
cedar, had been cut in the form of mountain contours. These were placed in
juxtaposition, and from either side the appearance of two ranges of
mountains was conveyed. _Fig. 150_ gives a faint idea of the appearance:
of this simple _ramma._ There are many suggestions in the decoration and
utilization for ventilating rooms through certain portions of the frieze,
which might be adopted with advantage in the finish of our interiors.
[Fig. 148.—Carved wood ramma in Gojio Village, Yamato.]
Fig. 148.—Carved wood ramma in Gojio Village, Yamato.
[Fig. 149.—Carved wood ramma in town of Yatsushiro, Higo.]
Fig. 149.—Carved wood ramma in town of Yatsushiro, Higo.
[Fig. 150.—Ramma, composed of two thin boards, in Nagoya, Owari.]
Fig. 150.—Ramma, composed of two thin boards, in Nagoya, Owari.
As the room, when closed, receives its light through the _shōji,_ the
windows proper—that is, certain openings in permanent partitions which may
be regarded as windows—have in most cases lost their functional character,
and have become modified into ornamental features merely, many of them
being strictly decorative, having none of the functions of a window
whatever. These openings assume an infinite variety of forms, and appear
in the most surprising places in the room. They may be placed low down
near the floor, or close to the ceiling; indeed, they occur between the
rooms when permanent partitions are present, and similar openings may be
seen in the partition which separates the _tokonoma_ from the _chigai‐
dana._ A window often occurs in a partition that continues some little
distance beyond the outer edge of the _tokonoma._ This window is usually
square, and is closed by a _shōji._ The upper cross‐piece of the _shōji_
frame projects at each end, so that it may be hung in place on iron hooks
(_fig. 151_). If the window comes near the _tokonoma_ the _shōji_ is hung
on the outside of the room, as its appearance in this way is better from
within. If it occurs in a partition near the _chōdzu‐bachi,_ the _shōji_
is hung inside the room. Sometimes the _shōji_ rests on grooved cleats or
bars, which are fastened above and below the window, and oftentimes it
runs inside the partition,—that is, in a partition that is double. The
_shōji_ in this case is often made in two portions, and parts to the right
or left. The frame‐work of the _shōji_ forming the windows is often a
marvel of exquisite taste. The designs are often geometric figures, as in
_fig. 152_; though other designs are seen, as in _fig. 153_, representing
a mountain. These designs, being made of very thin strips of white pine,
it would seem that in such examples portions of the frame‐work must have
been fastened to the paper to keep them in place, for there are no means
of sustaining such a frame in position without some such method.
At Nagoya, in an old house, I saw a remarkable partition of dark cedar, in
which a circular window, five feet in diameter, was occupied by a panel of
thin cedar, in which was a perforated design of waves; the drawing was of
the most graceful description. The curious, formal, curled tongues of
water, like young sprouting ferns, the long graceful sweep of the waves,
and the circular drops suspended above the breaking crests presented a
charming effect, as the light coming through from the outside illuminated
these various openings.
[Fig. 151.—Shōji for window.]
Fig. 151.—Shōji for window.
[Fig. 152.—Shōji‐frame for window.]
Fig. 152.—Shōji‐frame for window.
[Fig. 153.—Shōji‐frame for window.]
Fig. 153.—Shōji‐frame for window.
When these windows occur in the second story they are arranged to overlook
some pleasant garden or distant landscape; for this purpose the window is
usually circular, though it may be in the shape of the crescent moon, or
fan‐shaped; indeed, there seems to be no end to designs for these
apertures. Openings of this nature between rooms may or may not have
_shōji,_ but they always have a lattice‐work of bamboo, or some other
material, arranged in certain ornamental ways. The outside windows not
only have the _shōji,_ but may have an ornamental lattice‐work as well. In
_fig. 121_ the large circular window next the _tokonoma_ had a lattice‐
work of bamboo arranged in an exceedingly graceful design.
Great attention is devoted to the window which comes in the recess used
for writing purposes. The frame of this window may be lacquered, and the
lattice‐work and _shōji_ are often marvels of the cabinet‐maker’s art.
Windows of curious construction are often placed in some passage‐way or
space at the end of the verandah leading to the lavatory, when one exists.
The accompanying figure (_fig. 154_) shows a window of this nature, seen
from the outside; the bars were of iron, and below the opening the wood‐
finish consisted of alternate panels of cedar‐bark and light wood.
[Fig. 154.—Window.]
Fig. 154.—Window.
There are hundreds of forms of these windows, or _mado,_ as they are
called. The few to which allusion has been made serve to give one some
idea of the almost entirely ornamental character of these openings. It is
worthy of note that each form has its appropriate name, and books are
specially prepared, giving many designs of windows and their modes of
construction.
In the chapter on Gardens a few descriptions and sketches are given of
other forms of windows belonging to summer‐houses.
The open character of the Japanese house has caused the development of a
variety of forms of portable screens, bamboo shades, curtains, and the
like, upon which much ingenuity of construction and an infinite amount of
artistic talent have been expended. The _biyō‐bu,_ or folding screens, are
too well known to require more than a passing allusion. These consist of a
number of panels or folds covered on both sides with stout paper. A narrow
border of wood forms an outer frame, and this may be plain or lacquered.
The end folds have the corners as well as other portions of its frame
decorated with wrought metal pieces. Just within the frame runs a border
of brocade of varying width, and on its inner edge a narrow strip of
brocade; within this comes the panel or portion to receive the artist’s
efforts. Each fold or panel may have a separate picture upon it; or, as is
most usually the case, a continuous landscape or composition covers the
entire side of the screen. Many of the great artists of Japan have
embodied some of their best works on screens of this kind, and the prices
at which some of these are held are fabulous.
The rich and heavily‐gilded screens now so rare to obtain are marvels of
decorative painting. While the front of the screen may have a broad
landscape, the back may be simply a plain gold surface, or have some
sketchy touches of bamboo, pine, etc., in black. I have been told that the
gold‐leaf was so thick on many of the old screens, that the sacrilege has
often been committed of destroying them for the gold contained on their
surfaces.
The six‐panelled gold‐screen is, beyond all question, the richest object
of household use for decorative purposes ever devised. There certainly is
no other device in which so many decorative arts are called into play. The
rich lacquered frame, the wrought metallic mountings, the border of gold
brocade, and the great expanse for the artist’s brush (for when both sides
of a six‐fold screen is decorated, an area is obtained nearly five feet in
height and twenty‐four feet in length) give great variety for richness of
adornment. The rich, dead gold‐leaf with which it is gilded softens the
reflections, and gives a warm, radiant tone to the light. Its adjustable
nature permits it to display its painting in every light. We refer now, of
course, to the genuine old gold‐screens which came in sets of two. One
possessing a set of these screens may consider himself particularly
fortunate. The one figured (_fig. 155_) has depicted upon it a winter
scene painted by Kano Tsunenobu, and is nearly one hundred and seventy
years old; the companion of this has represented upon it a summer scene,
by the same artist. On the reverse sides are painted with bright and
vigorous touches the bamboo and pine. _Fig. 156_ shows one corner of the
screen‐frame with its metal mounting. These screens may have two folds, or
three, or even six, as in this case. A set of screens when not in use are
enclosed in silk bags, and then placed in a long, narrow wooden box (_fig.
157_). This box, like other articles of household use, such as bureaus and
chests of drawers, has long hanging iron handles, which when turned
upwards project above the level of the top, forming convenient loops
through which a stick may be passed,—and thus in case of fire may be
easily transported upon the shoulders of men.
[Fig. 155.—Biyō‐bu, or folding screen.]
Fig. 155.—Biyō‐bu, or folding screen.
[Fig. 156.—Wrought metallic mounting of screen frame.]
Fig. 156.—Wrought metallic mounting of screen frame.
When the screen is unfolded and placed on the floor, various devices are
provided to prevent the end panels being swayed by the wind. These devices
may be in the shape of some metal figure which acts as a check, or a heavy
weight of pottery made in the shape shown in _fig. 158_, the end of screen
fitting into the slot in the weight.
[Fig. 157.—Screen‐box.]
Fig. 157.—Screen‐box.
On certain festival days, it is customary for the people bordering the
wider thoroughfares to throw open their houses and display their screens;
and in Kioto, at such times, one may walk along the streets and behold a
wonderful exhibition of these beautiful objects.
[Fig. 158.—Foot‐weight for screen. ]
Fig. 158.—Foot‐weight for screen.
A screen peculiar to Kioto, and probably farther south, is seen, in which
panels of rush and bamboo split in delicate bars are inserted in each leaf
of the screen. Such a screen when spread admits a certain amount of light
as well as air, and may be used in summer.
A low screen of two folds, called a _furosaki biyō‐bu_ is placed in front
of the _furo,_ or fire‐vessel, used for boiling water for tea. The purpose
of this is to screen the _furo_ from the wind and prevent the ashes from
being blown about the room. Sometimes these screens are made in a rigid
form of wood, with the wings at right angles, the panels being of rush;
and in the corner of the screen a little shelf is fixed, upon which the
tea‐utensils may be placed. Such an one is here figured (_fig. 159_);
there are many designs for this kind of screen.
[Fig. 159.—Furosaki Biyō‐bu.]
Fig. 159.—Furosaki Biyō‐bu.
In the old‐fashioned _genka,_ or hall‐way, there stands a solid screen of
wood with heavy frame, supported by two transverse feet. This screen is
called a _tsui‐tate,_ and is an article of furniture belonging to the
hall. It is often richly decorated with gold lacquer, and is usually much
lower in height than the ordinary screen. In old Japanese picture‐books
this form is often represented. Diminutive models of the _tsui‐tate_
(_fig. 160_) are made in pottery or porcelain, and these are for the
purpose of standing in front of the ink‐stone to prevent the mats from
being spattered when the ink is rubbed. In another form of _tsui‐tate_ a
stand is made having uprights placed in such a way that a screen covered
with stout paper or a panel may be placed upon the stand and held in a
vertical position by these uprights, as shown in fig. 161.
[Fig. 160.—Model of tsui‐tate in pottery.]
Fig. 160.—Model of tsui‐tate in pottery.
When the _shōji_ are removed, and the room thrown wide open to the light
and air, curtains composed of strips of bamboo or rush are used as sun‐
screens; these are generally hung up just below the edge of the
supplementary roof or _hisashi_ or may be suspended just outside the room.
They can be rolled up and tied, or dropped to any desired length. These
curtains may be either plain or have traced upon them delicate designs of
vines or gourds, or conventional patterns. These designs are produced
either by the joints on the bamboo being adjusted to carry out a zigzag or
other design, as shown in _fig. 162_ (A.), or else the thin strips of
bamboo may have square notches cut out from their lower edges as in fig.
162 (B). In this case the shade of the room within gives the necessary
back‐ground to bring out the design as shown in fig. 163. These devices
are called _noren;_ if made of bamboo, they are called _sudare._
In illustrated books there is often seen figured a screen such as is shown
in _fig. 164_. This consists of a lacquered stand, from which spring two
upright rods, which in turn support a transverse bar not unlike some forms
of towel‐racks; dependent from this is a curtain of cloth, which is long
enough to sweep the floor. I have never seen this object, though it is
probably in use in the houses of the Daimios.
[Fig. 161.—Tsui‐tate.]
Fig. 161.—Tsui‐tate.
[Fig. 162.—Bamboo curtains.]
Fig. 162.—Bamboo curtains.
[Fig. 163.—Bamboo curtain.]
Fig. 163.—Bamboo curtain.
[Fig. 164.—Curtain screen.]
Fig. 164.—Curtain screen.
A screen or curtain is often seen in doorways and passageways, consisting
of a fringe of cords, upon which have been strung like beads short
sections of bamboo, with black seeds at intervals. A portion of one of
these fringed curtains is illustrated in _fig. 165_. Such a curtain has
the advantage not only of being a good screen, but the inmates may pass
through it, so to speak, without the necessity of lifting it. There are
many forms of this curtain to be seen, and at present the Japanese are
exporting a variety of delicate ones made of glass beads and sections of
rushes.
[Fig. 165.—Fringed curtains.]
Fig. 165.—Fringed curtains.
Cloth curtains are used at the entrance to the kitchen, and also to screen
closet‐like recesses. The cloth is cut at intervals, leaving a series of
long flaps. This curtain is not readily swayed the wind, and can easily
be passed through as one enters room (_fig. 166_). In front of the
Japanese shop one may see a similar form of curtain slit at intervals, so
that it may not be affected by ordinary winds.
There are doubtless many other forms of screens and curtains not here
enumerated, but most of those described present the common forms usually
observed.
[Fig. 166.—Slashed curtain.]
Fig. 166.—Slashed curtain.