The kitchen, as an apartment, varies quite as much in Japan as it does in
our country, and varies in the same way; that is to say, in the country,
in houses of the better class, both in Japan and the United States, the
kitchen is large and oftentimes spacious, well lighted and airy, in which
not only the preparation of food and the washing of dishes go on, but in
which also the meals are served. The kitchen of the common city house in
both countries is oftentimes a dark narrow room, ill‐lighted, and
altogether devoid of comfort for the cook. Among this class of houses the
kitchen is the least defined of Japanese rooms; it lacks that tidiness and
definition so characteristic of the other rooms. It is often a narrow
porch or shed with pent roof, rarely, if ever, possessing a ceiling; its
exposed rafters are blackened by the smoke, which finds egress through a
scuttle, through which often comes the only light that illuminates the dim
interior. In the city house the kitchen often comes on that side of the
house next the street, for the reason that the garden being in the rear of
the house the best rooms face that area; being on the street too, the
kitchen is convenient for the vender of fish and vegetables, and for all
the kitchen traffic, which too often with us results in the strewing of
our little grass‐plots with the wrapping paper of the butcher’s bundles
and other pleasing reminiscences of the day’s dinner. In country the
kitchen is generally at the end of the house usually opening into some
porch‐like expansion, where the tubs, bucket etc., and the winter’s supply
of wood finds convenient storage.
[Fig. 167.—Kitchen in old farmhouse at Kabutoyama.]
Fig. 167.—Kitchen in old farmhouse at Kabutoyama.
In public inns and large country houses, and also in many of the larger
city tea‐houses, the customary raised floor is divided by a narrow area,
which has for its floor the hard trodden earth; and this area forms an
avenue from the road to the heart of the house, and even through the house
to the garden beyond. This enables one to pass to the centre of the house
without the necessity of removing one’s shoes. Porters and servants bring
the guest’s baggage and deposit it directly upon the mats; and in the inns
more privacy is secured by the _kago_ being brought to the centre of the
house, where the visitor may alight at the threshold of the very room he
is to occupy. A plank or other adjustable platform is used to bridge this
avenue, so that occupants may go from one portion of the house to another
in their bare or stockinged feet.
[Fig. 168.—Kitchen range.]
Fig. 168.—Kitchen range.
If this area is in a public inn, the office, common room, and kitchen
border one side of this thoroughfare. In the common room the baby‐tending,
sewing, and the various duties of the family go on under the heavily‐
raftered and thatched roof, which blackened by the smoke from the kitchen
fire, and festooned with equally blackened cobwebs, presents a weird
appearance when lighted up by the ruddy glow from the hearth. We speak now
of the northern country houses, particularly where the fireplace, as in
the Aino house, is in the middle of the floor. In country houses of the
better class the kitchen is large and roomy; the well is always
conveniently near, and often under the same roof. An enormous quantity of
water is used in the kitchen of a Japanese house; and if the well is
outside, then a trough is arranged beside the well, into which the water
is poured, and from this trough a bamboo spout conveys the water into a
big water‐tank within the kitchen. In the vicinity of the well it is
always wet and sloppy; the vegetables, rice, dishes, and nearly every
utensil and article of food seem to come under this deluge of water.
_Fig. 167_ (page 186) gives a sketch of an old kitchen Kabutoyama in the
western part of the province of Musashi. This kitchen is nearly three
hundred years old, and is the of a kitchen of a wealthy and independent
Japanese farmer. The great wooden curbed well is seen in front, with a
pulley above in which the rope runs. Near by is a trough from which a
bamboo spout leads to some trough in another portion of the house. The
_kamado,_ or cooking‐range, is seen to the left, an beyond is a room
partly closed by _fusuma._ Directly beyon the well two girls may be seen
in the act of preparing dinner which consists in arranging the dishes on
little raised lacquer trays, which are to be carried in when dinner is
ready. Near the range are little portable affairs made of soft stone used
as braziers. The raised floor is composed of broad planks; kitchens
invariably have wooden floors, which are oftentimes very smooth and
polished.
The usual form of kitchen range is represented in _fig. 168_; this is made
of broken tiles and mud or clay compacted together and neatly plastered
and blackened on the outside. In this range there are two recesses for
fire, which open directly in front; and this structure rests upon a stout
wooden frame having a place for ashes in front, and a space beneath in
which the wood and charcoal are kept. Sometimes this range, retaining the
same form, is made of copper; within this water is kept, and little
openings permit the wine‐bottle to be immersed in order to heat it, as the
_sake_ is drunk hot without the admixture of hot water.
In another kitchen in a house in Imado, Tokio, a hood of sheet‐iron was
arranged to convey the smoke outside the building. This is probably a
modern device (_fig. 169_).
[Fig. 169.—Kitchen range, with smoke‐conductor.]
Fig. 169.—Kitchen range, with smoke‐conductor.
In _fig. 170_ a sketch is given of a kitchen in Tokio in which the range
was a closed affair made of stone, with a funnel at the end as in our
stoves. I was told by the owner of this house that this kind of a stove
had been in use in his family for three generations, at least. In this
kitchen an area level with the ground is seen, in which stands the sink
containing an invert rice‐kettle. Beside the sink stands a huge water‐jar,
with water bucket and water‐dipper conveniently near; above is a shelf up
which are numerous buckets and tubs. On one of the posts hangs the usual
bamboo rack for skewers, wooden spoons, spatulas, etc., and below it is a
case for the meat and fish knives. On a bamboo pole a few towels hang, and
also two large fishes’ heads from which a thin soup is to be made. On a
post near the mouth of the stove hangs a coarse wire sieve with which to
sift the ashes for the little bits of unburnt charcoal, which are always
frugally saved, and near by is a covered vessel to hold these cinders. The
customary stone brazier for heating water for the tea stands near the
stove.
[Fig. 170.—Kitchen in city house.]
Fig. 170.—Kitchen in city house.
_Fig. 171_ represents more clearly the form of this brazier, which is
called a _shichirin._ It is a convenient and economical device for the
cooking of small messes or for boiling water, charcoal being used for the
purpose. Instead of bellows, a fan is used for kindling or quickening a
fire. A short bamboo tube is also used through which the cook’s lungs act
as a bellows in performing a like service.
_Fig. 172_ gives a clearer view of the bamboo rack and the knife‐case
below, with which almost every kitchen is supplied. Often in public inns
the kitchen opens on the street, where the cook may be seen conspicuously
at work. In our country the chop‐houses oftentimes have the grilling and
stewing ostentatiously displayed in the same way, as an appetizing
inducement to attract guests.
[Fig. 171.—Braziers.]
Fig. 171.—Braziers.
_Fig. 174_ gives a view of a common arrangement for the kitchen in the
north of Japan, and in the country everywhere. Here the fireplace is in
the centre of the room. A kettle is suspended over the fire by a chain,
and other kettles are huddled around it to be heated. Overhead a rack
hangs, from which fish and meat are suspended, and thus the smoke which
ascends from the fire is utilized in curing them. Sometimes a large
cushion of straw is suspended above the smoke, and little fish skewered
with pointed sticks are thrust into this bunch of straw like pins in a
pin‐cushion.
In _fig. 175_ a more elaborate affair is shown from which to suspend the
teakettle. This is a complex mechanism with a curious joint, so that it
may be hoisted or lowered at will.
In the hut of the peasant a simple affair is seen (_fig. 173_) made out of
bamboo, which answers the same purpose. This is called a _ji‐zai,_ which
means “at one’s will.” In the front of fig. 175 a square copper box is
noticed, having two round openings. This box is filled with water, which
becomes heated by the fire, and is for the purpose of warming the _sake,_
or wine. The tongs are stuck into the ashes in one corner. These consist
of a long pair of iron chop‐sticks held together at one end by a large
ring, so that one leg of the tongs, so to speak, may not get misplaced. No
inconsiderable skill is required to pick up hot coals with this kitchen
implement, as in unaccustomed or awkward hands the ring prevents the
points from coming together.
[Fig. 172.—Bamboo rack and knife case.]
Fig. 172.—Bamboo rack and knife case.
[Fig. 173.—Ji‐zai]
Fig. 173.—Ji‐zai
It may be proper to mention here an arrangement for holding a pot over the
fire, seen in a boat coming down the Kitakami River, and which is probably
used in the north of Japan, though I have never seen it in the house. It
consisted of an upright stick having a groove through the centre. In this
groove fitted a jointed stick resting horizontally, and arranged in such a
way that it could be adjusted at any height. _Fig. 176_ (page 195) will
illustrate the manner of its working better than any description can.
[Fig. 174.—Fireplace in country house.]
Fig. 174.—Fireplace in country house.
The floor of most rooms, being permanently covered with the mats already
described in previous chapters, has no special attention bestowed upon
it; at all events, the floor is often of rough boards laid in such a way
that irregular spaces occur between them. When the house has a proper hall
or vestibule, the floor is composed of wide planks; and the smooth, ivory‐
like, polished condition in which such floors are often kept is
surprising. In country houses it is not unusual to see polished‐wood
floors in portions of the front rooms, and as one rides along the road he
may often see the reflection of the garden beyond In their polished
surfaces. In country inns the floor in the front of the house is often of
plank. Matted floors are, however, universal from the extreme north to the
extreme south of the Empire.
[Fig. 175.—The best fireplace.]
Fig. 175.—The best fireplace.
In houses of traders bordering the street the matted floor properly
terminates a few feet within the sill, the space between being of earth.
The floor being raised, the space between the edge of the floor and the
earth is generally filled with plain panels of wood, though sometimes
designs of flowers or conventional figures are cut in the panel. These
panels are often arranged so that they can be removed, revealing a space
under the floor in which shoes, umbrellas, etc., can be stowed away.
[Fig. 176.—An adjustable device for supporting a kettle.]
Fig. 176.—An adjustable device for supporting a kettle.
One of the surprising features that strike a foreigner as he becomes
acquainted with the Japanese house is the entire absence of so many things
that with us clutter the closets, or make squirrel‐nests of the attic,—I
speak now of the common house. The reason of this is that the people have
never developed the miserly spirit of hoarding truck and rubbish with the
idea that some day it may come into use: this spirit when developed is a
mania converts a man’s attic and shed into a junk shop. The few necessary
articles kept by the Japanese are stowed away in boxes, cupboards,
interspaces beneath the floors.
The kitchens in every case have wood floors, as do the halls, verandahs,
and all passage‐ways. The ground beneath the floor is, in the houses of
the better class, prepared with gravel and mortar mixed with clay, or
macadamized.
[Fig. 177.—Kitchen closet, drawers, cupboard, and stairs combined.]
Fig. 177.—Kitchen closet, drawers, cupboard, and stairs combined.
A variety of closets is found in the Japanese house. The larger closets,
closed by sliding screens or _fusuma,_ are used for clothing and bedding.
The _tansu_—a chest of drawers not unlike our bureau—is often placed
within the closet, which is also a receptacle for chests and trunks. The
ordinary high closet is not so often seen; and where in our houses it is
deemed a necessity to have each chamber provided with a closet, in the
Japanese house bed‐chambers rarely contain such conveniences. There are
low cupboards or closets in certain recesses, the upper part or top of
which forms a deep open shelf. In the kitchen, dressers and similar
conveniences are used for the dishes. In the province of Omi it is common
to see a case of shelves with cupboard beneath; upon the shelves the
larger dishes are displayed. In the kitchen there is often combined with
the flight of stairs a closet; and this closet usually has a door swinging
on hinges. In this closet are often kept the bed‐clothes, pillows, candle‐
sticks, and night‐lamps. _Fig. 177_ illustrates the appearance of this
closet. In the hallway, also, a closet is sometimes seen in which to stow
away the _geta,_ or wooden clogs. A closet of this nature is described
farther on.
As most of the houses are of one story, and the area between the ceiling
and the roof never utilized, as with us, stairways are not common; when
they do occur they are primitive in their construction. A stairway
incorporated into the structure of a building and closed below I have
never seen in Japan; nor is there any approach to the broad, low steps and
landings or spiral staircases such as we are familiar with in American
houses. If the house be of two stories the staircase assumes the form of a
rather precipitous step‐ladder; that is, it has two side‐pieces, or
strings, in which the steps, consisting of thick plank, are mortised. This
ladder is so steeply inclined that one has to step sideways in ascending,
otherwise his knee would strike the step above. Rarely is there any
convenience to hold on by: if present, however, this consists of a strip
of wood fastened to the wall, or a rope is secured in the same way. The
front of the step is open,—that is, there is no riser; but if the back of
the steps face an open room, then slats of wood are nailed on behind.
In a beautiful house recently erected in one of the imperial gardens is a
remarkably pure and simple staircase and rail (_fig. 178_).
In the inns and large farm‐houses the step‐ladder form is often seen, and
this is removable if occasion calls for it. Another kind, common to the
same class of houses, has the appearance of a number of square boxes piled
one upon another, like a set of different‐sized blocks. This is a compact
structure, however, though in reality consisting of a number compartments
which may be separated. There are many forms of this kind of staircase.
The one shown in fig. 177 has the first two step closed; then comes a low
cupboard with sliding doors at the side, its upper corners forming another
step. Upon the cupboard rest three more steps, each of which has a drawer
which pulls out at the side. Next to this comes a high closet, supporting
on its top two or three more steps. This closet usually has a swinging
door,—a feature rarely seen elsewhere within the Japanese house proper.
This closet contains on its floor the night‐lamp, or _andon,_ and tall
candlesticks, and above are stowed away the bedding and pillows; or it may
be used for trays and dishes. The steps are not so steep as in the ladder‐
form, have no baluster or rail, and are remarkably solid. It may be well
to say here that the wood composing the staircase, as well as certain
floors, is highly finished, often with a surface like polished ivory. I
have frequently examined the wood for evidences of wax or polish applied
to its surface, but found none. Inquiry brought out the curious
information that the water from the bath is often used to moisten the
cloth with which the wood is wiped; and evidently the sebaceous secretions
of the skin had much to do with the beautiful polish often attained. When
a house possesses a _genka,_ or hall, the steps, two or three in number,
are as broad as the hall, and generally the steps are somewhat higher than
our steps. These steps are in every case permanently built into the
structure of the floor. In the steps which lead from the verandah to the
ground the usual form is in the shape of square or irregular blocks of
stone or wood; if of wood, the step may be a transverse section of some
huge tree, or a massive plank. Other forms of steps may consist simply of
two side‐pieces, with the steps made of plank and mortised in (_fig.
179_); or a more compact structure may be made with a very low hand‐rail.
These forms are all adjustable; that is, they may be placed at any part of
the verandah.
[Fig. 178.—Stair‐rail.]
Fig. 178.—Stair‐rail.
[Fig. 179.—Steps to verandah.]
Fig. 179.—Steps to verandah.
There is no feature of social life in Japan which has been more
ignorantly, and in some cases wilfully, animadverted upon than the custom
of public bathing; nevertheless, I dare to say that there is no feature in
Japanese life to be more heartily commended than this same system of
public bathing. But by this assertion I do not mean to suggest that we
shall forthwith proceed to establish baths after the Japanese style, and
take them after the Japanese fashion. The Japanese, as well as other
Eastern people, have for centuries been accustomed to see nakedness,
without its provoking among them the slightest attention, or in any way
suggesting immodesty. With us, on the contrary, the effect has been
different; and the dire result is seen in the almost utter extinction in
our country of the classical drama, and the substitution therefor of
ballet‐dancing and burlesques,—of anything in fact that shall present to
the vulgar gaze of thousands the female form in scanty apparel.(16) A
Turkish woman looks upon her Christian sister as not only immodest and
vulgar, but absolutely immoral, because she unblushingly parades the
public street with a naked face; but the Christian woman knows that the
established customs of her country sanction such an exposure as entirely
proper. A girl who in our country would deem it immodest to appear among
the members of her own family in a _robe de chambre,_ and yet under the
glare of a bright gas‐light, in the midst of scores of strangers, appears
with low _corsage,_ is committing an act which to a Turkish woman would
appear inexplicable. To a Japanese, the sight of our dazzling ball‐rooms,
with girls in _décolleté_ dresses, clasped in the arms of their partners
and whirling to the sound of exciting music, must seem the wildest debauch
imaginable; for in Japan the sexes, except among the lower classes, never
intermingle. No free and happy picnics, sleigh‐rides, boat‐sails, and
evening parties among the girls and boys are known there; no hand‐shake,
no friendly kiss. If the Japanese visitor in this country is a narrow‐
minded and witless scribbler, he will probably startle his friends at home
with accounts of the grossly immoral character of Christians. Unfamiliar
as he is with the corner loafer eying every girl that walks by, or with
that class which throng our walks with the sole purpose of staring at the
girls, who are there for the purpose of being stared at, what must he
think of our people when he visits our summer resorts at the seaside and
sees a young girl—nay, swarms of them—tripping over the sand under a
bright sun, bare‐legged, clad only in a single wrapper, which when wet
clings to her form and renders her an object of contemplation to a
battalion of young men who fringe the beach!
In Japan, among the lower classes, the sexes bathe together, but with a
modesty and propriety that are inconceivable to a foreigner until he has
witnessed it. Though naked, there is no indecent exposure of the person.
While in the bath they are absorbed in their work, and though chatting and
laughing seem utterly unmindful of each other. The grossest libels have
been written about the Japanese in reference to their custom of public
bathing; and I hazard the statement, without fear of contradiction, that
an intelligent Japanese, seeing many of our customs for the first time,
without knowing the conditions under which they had grown up, would find
infinitely more to condemn as immodest, than an intelligent foreigner
would find in seeing for the first time certain Japanese customs, with the
same ignorance at the outset as to what such customs implied.
If cleanliness is next to godliness, then verily the Japanese are a godly
race.(17) The simple statement, without qualification, that numbers of
Japanese in their public baths bathe in the same water would seem a filthy
habit. Certainly if such a statement were really true in regard to our own
lower classes, it would be a most filthy habit. When it is understood,
however, that the Japanese working classes—such as the carpenters, masons,
and others—often bathe two or three times a day, and must of necessity
enter the bath in a state of cleanliness such as our workmen rarely if
ever attain, the statement loses some of its force. When it is further
added that these people do not wash in the baths, but boil or soak in them
for a while, and then upon a platform, with an extra bucket of water and a
towel, wash and dry themselves, the filthy character of this performance
assumes quite another aspect. A Japanese familiar with his airy and barn‐
like theatres, his public readings under an open tent‐like structure, or
gatherings in a room in which one or all sides may be open to the air even
in mid‐winter, would look upon the usual public gatherings of our people
in lecture‐halls, schoolrooms, and other closed apartments, wherein the
air often becomes so foul that people faint and struggle to the door to
get a breath of fresh air,—a Japanese, I say, would justly look upon such
practices as filthy to the last degree. And what _would_ he say to one of
our great political meetings, for example, where a vast unwashed herd of
perspiring and excited people actually bathe their delicate membranous
lungs in the combined breath of hundreds!
The public baths, however, do not concern us,—though it may be well to
contrast our country with Japan in this respect, where in the latter
country every village and every town, and in the city nearly every square,
possess public baths where for the price of a cent or two one may find
conveniences for a hot bath; while in our country public baths are only
found in the larger cities, and few of these even can boast of such a
luxury. As for the private houses in our country where bathing is
customary, an inquiry shows that few possess the convenience of a bath‐
tub.
Among the masses of our people a Saturday‐night wash may or may not be
enforced; when it is, this performance usually takes place in the kitchen,
with hot water furnished from the kettle. But in Japan nearly every house
among the higher and middle classes possesses the most ample arrangements
for hot baths; and even among the poorer classes, in the country as well
as in the city, this convenience is not wanting, with the added
convenience of public baths everywhere attainable if desired.
[Fig. 180.—Bath‐tub with side oven.]
Fig. 180.—Bath‐tub with side oven.
[Fig. 181.—Bath‐tub with inside flue.]
Fig. 181.—Bath‐tub with inside flue.
There are many forms of bathing‐tubs, all of them being large and deep.
Means for applying the heat direct, which is of course the most
economical, is attained in various ways. In the common form (_fig. 180_),
a small chamber of copper is introduced at one end near the bottom of the
tub,—the mouth having a frame of stone, or of clay or plaster. In this
chamber a fire is built, and the water can be brought, if necessary, to
the boiling‐point. Within the tub a few transverse bars prevent the bather
from coming in contact with the hot chamber in which the fire is burning.
In another form a copper funnel or tube passes directly through the bottom
of the bathing‐tub (_fig. 181_). The bottom of this tube has a grating of
wire; charcoal is then placed in the tube, and its combustion rapidly
heats the water. A pan is placed below the tube to catch the coal and
ashes that fall through. In a more elaborate form (_fig. 182_), the bath‐
tub is in two sections, separated by the partition of the room. These two
sections are connected by a number of bamboo tubes or flues, so that the
water may circulate freely. The section outside contains the fire‐box, in
which the fire is built; by this arrangement the bather escapes the
discomfort of the smoke from the fire.
[Fig. 182.—Bath‐tub in section, with oven outside the room.]
Fig. 182.—Bath‐tub in section, with oven outside the room.
[Fig. 183.—Bath‐tub with outside heating‐chamber.]
Fig. 183.—Bath‐tub with outside heating‐chamber.
A very excellent form of bathing‐tub is shown in _fig. 183_, in which,
outside the tub, is a chamber not unlike a small wooden barrel closed at
both ends; through this barrel runs a copper tube, in which a fire of
charcoal is built. The barrel is connected with the bath‐tub by a large
bamboo tube, having a little square door within, which the bather may
close if the water becomes too hot. In many cases a hood is arranged in
such a way that the smoke from the fire is carried off. These tubs stand
on a large wooden floor, the planks of which incline to a central gutter.
Here the bather scrubs himself with a separate bucket of water, after
having literally parboiled himself in water the temperature of which is so
great that it is impossible for a foreigner to endure it.
A very common form of bath in the country consists of a large and shallow
iron kettle, upon the top of which is secured a wooden extension, so as to
give sufficient depth to the water within (_fig. 184_). The fire is built
beneath the kettle,—the bather having a rack of wood which he sinks
beneath him, and upon which he stands to protect his feet from burning.
This tub is called a _Goyemon buro,_ named after Ishikawa Goyemon,—a
famous robber of Taiko’s time, who was treated to a bath in boiling oil.
[Fig. 184.—Bath‐tub with iron base.]
Fig. 184.—Bath‐tub with iron base.
There are doubtless other forms of bath‐tubs with conveniences for heating
the water, but the forms here given comprise the principal kinds. There is
no reason why similar conveniences might not be adopted in our country in
cases where aqueducts or city supply is not available. There are many
forms of foot‐tubs and large wooden tubs with high backs, in which hot
water is poured; but there is no necessity of describing them here.
While in a Japanese house, as we have seen, the most ample conveniences
exist for taking a hot or cold bath, the minor conveniences for washing
the face and hands are not always so apparent. In such attempts one is
more often reminded of a primitive country house at home, where one either
goes down to the kitchen, and amid a clutter of pails and pans manages to
wash himself, or else takes a tin basin and goes out to the well,—and this
on a fresh cool morning is by far the more agreeable. In the country a
Japanese may be seen in the yard or by the roadside washing his face in a
bucket or shallow tub; and at inns, and even in private houses, one is
given a copper basin, and a bucket of water being brought he uses a
portion of the verandah as a wash‐stand. That conveniences for this
purpose do exist to some extent may be seen from the accompanying
sketches.
The one shown in _fig. 185_ may sometimes be found in country inns at the
north. This consists of a shallow trough resting on the floor at the end
of the verandah or passage‐way. In the trough is a stout water‐bucket with
cover, and a copper wash‐basin.
[Fig. 185.—Lavatory in country inn.]
Fig. 185.—Lavatory in country inn.
The convenience shown in _fig. 186_ was in a private house in Tokio. Here
the trough was above the level of the floor, in a recessed portion of a
passage‐way which ran behind a suite of rooms. The wood‐work about it was
made with great care. The sliding window‐frames, covered with stout white
paper, admitted sufficient light; while the rich brown pottery‐jar, the
clean wooden dipper, copper basin, and quaint towel‐rack were all
attractive features from their very neatness and simplicity.
[Fig. 186.—Lavatory in private house.]
Fig. 186.—Lavatory in private house.
It may seem odd for one to get enthusiastic over so simple an affair as a
trough and a few honest contrivances for washing the hands and face;
nevertheless such a plain and sensible arrangement is a relief, in
contrast to certain guest‐chambers at home, where one wishing to go
through the rather vigorous performance of dashing into the water with his
elbows outstretched, finds these free movements curtailed to the last
degree by a regiment of senseless toilet articles in the shape of
attenuated bottles, mugs, soap‐dishes with rattling covers, and diminutive
top‐heavy pitchers crowded about his wash‐basin, and all resting on a slab
of white marble. Things are inevitably broken if they are brought down too
hard upon such a bottom. After such recollections, one admires the
Japanese sink, with its durable flat‐bottomed basin, capacious pottery‐jar
for water, and ample space to thrash about in without fear of spattering
the wall‐paper or smashing a lot of useless toilet articles in the act.
The form last described is the usual one seen in private houses.
Conveniences of this nature that are brought to the level of the floor,
while giving the Japanese who are used to them no trouble, are found to be
exceedingly awkward for a foreigner, who is obliged to go through his
toilet in a stooping posture.
Often the toilet places are rendered exceedingly attractive by the
ornamental wood‐work used in their construction.
[Fig. 187.—Lavatory copied from Japanese book.]
Fig. 187.—Lavatory copied from Japanese book.
_Fig. 187_ is a drawing from a design in a Japanese book, entitled “Yaye
Gaki no Den.” I have modified the drawing to conform more to our methods
of perspective. This was placed at the end of the verandah, and on a level
with the floor. A low partition formed a screen at one side; within the
recess thus made was a low shelf for the pottery water‐jar. The floor of
the sink consisted of bamboo rods placed close together, through which the
spilled water found its way by proper channels to the ground without. A
paper‐lantern hung against the wall, and dipper and towel‐rack were
conveniently at hand. Other forms might be given, but enough has been
shown to illustrate how well these conveniences are arranged for that
important daily operation of washing the face and hands. Further
conveniences for simply washing the hands are offered in the _chōdzu‐
bachi,_ description and figures of which will be given under that head.
[Fig. 188‐192.—Forms of towel‐racks.]
Fig. 188‐192.—Forms of towel‐racks.
The towel‐rack merits some attention from its exceedingly simple
structure. There are many forms, most of them rustic in design and made to
be suspended. The following figures (figs. 188‐192) illustrate some of the
forms in common use. The simplest kind is in the shape of a ring of bamboo
suspended by a larger bamboo, to the end of which it is attached. Another
form, and a very common one, is a yoke of bamboo, the lower ends of which
are firmly secured to a larger bamboo, confining at the same time a piece
of bamboo which slides freely up and down on the yoke, and by its own
weight resting on the towel which may be thrown across the lower bamboo.
Another form consists of a loop of bamboo suspended to the side of a board
which is hung against the wall.
The towels are pretty objects, being of cotton or linen, and usually have
printed upon them sketchy designs in two shades of blue.
After living in Japan for a time one realizes how few are the essentials
necessary for personal comfort. He further realizes that his personal
comfort is enhanced by the absence of many things deemed indispensable at
home. In regard to the bed and its arrangements, the Japanese have reduced
this affair to its simplest expression. The whole floor, the whole house
indeed, is a bed, and one can fling himself down on the soft mats, in the
draught or out of it, upstairs or down, and find a smooth, firm, and level
surface upon which to sleep,—no creaking springs, hard bunches or awkward
hollows awaiting him, but a bed‐surface as wide as the room itself, and
comfortable to the last degree. To be more explicit, the bed is made upon
the mats; there is no bedstead, or frame, or circumscribed area of any
kind upon or within which the bed is placed.(18) The bed‐clothes
consisting of lightly or heavily wadded comforters are spread upon the
floor, one or more forming the bed, and another one acting as a covering.
The common ones are wadded with cotton; the best ones are made of silk,
and are stuffed with floss silk. In private houses one often gets a bed
consisting of a number of these silk comforters,—and a most delightful bed
they make. In summer the foreigner finds these wadded affairs altogether
too hot and stuffy; and at all times he misses the clean sheets which at
home intervene between the bed‐clothes and his person,—though a clean
night‐dress is provided if desired, and this answers as a substitute for
the sheets. In the day‐time these comforters are folded up and stowed away
in some closet.
The usual form of pillow, or _makura,_ consists of a light closed wooden
box, with a bottom either flat or slightly convex. On the top of this box
is secured a small cylindrically‐shaped cushion stuffed with buckwheat
hulls. This cushion is tied to the box, and the same string that holds it
in place also secures the pillow‐case, which is simply a sheet of soft
paper folded several times, as shown in the figures here given (_fig.
193_).
[Fig. 193.—Forms of pillow in common use.]
Fig. 193.—Forms of pillow in common use.
There are many other forms of pillow, either in the shape of a hard
cushion or of a square oblong box, the ends being of wood, and the rest of
basket‐work. Porcelain pillows are also seen, but rarely. There are also
many forms of portable ones, some of which fold and stow away in small
compass, and others of which are in the shape of a box, within which are
drawers and spaces for paper‐lantern, matches, mirror, comb, and various
articles of the toilet. These are generally used by travellers. The
Japanese, with a pillow of this kind, can literally take up his bed and
walk; for if he has a head‐rest or pillow containing these conveniences,
he can get along very well. Pillows in all cases are arranged to support
the head naturally, when the shoulder rests on the floor, as in the
following figure (_fig. 194_). To a foreigner, until he becomes accustomed
to it, the Japanese pillow seems exceedingly awkward, and his first
experience with it results in a stiff neck the next morning; and at
intervals during the night he has the sensation that he is falling out of
bed, for any freedom of movement of the head results in its downfall from
the pillow.
Getting used to it, however, one recognizes that this pillow has its good
points; the neck is kept free for the air to circulate beneath, and the
head is kept cool. This peculiar form of pillow was a necessity for the
Japanese so long as the hair was done up in the rigid _queue,_ and is
still a necessity for women with their methods of hair‐dressing; but with
the general abandonment of the _queue_ on the part of the men, a few of
them are resorting to head‐rests more like our pillows, though much
smaller and harder, and on the whole I believe many find this substitute
more comfortable.
[Fig. 194.—Showing position of head in resting on pillow.]
Fig. 194.—Showing position of head in resting on pillow.
This simple form of bed entails much less work on the chamber‐maid than do
our arrangements. In a large inn one girl will do the chamber‐work for the
entire house. In fact this work is ridiculously simple. The _futons,_ or
comforters, are rapidly folded up and stowed away, or hung over the
balcony rail to air. She gathers up a huge pile of the light pillow‐boxes
in her arms, and carries them to the room below; here she unties the
strings which hold the cushions in place, substitutes clean sheets of
folded paper for the soiled ones,—and the work of bed‐making is done. With
a duster, consisting of strips of tough paper tied to the end of a slender
bamboo, the rooms are dusted and made ready for the next arrivals. As
matters pertaining to the toilet are performed in other portions of the
house, the rooms are placed in order in an incredibly short time.
[Fig. 195.—Heating arrangement in floor.]
Fig. 195.—Heating arrangement in floor.
In a crowded inn each guest may occupy the dimensions of one mat; and the
entire floor is occupied in this way. In winter a thickly‐wadded comforter
is provided, which is made in the form of a huge garment having capacious
sleeves. Many rooms have a square hole in the floor in which, when needed,
a fire of charcoal may be kindled; this is called a _ro._ Above the _ro_ a
square frame of wood is adjusted, and the bed‐clothes being placed over
this frame are thoroughly heated, so that one may go to bed in the warmest
of nests. In the day‐time one may gather a portion of the bed‐clothes
about him, and keep warm by the little coal‐fire burning beneath. _Fig.
195_ is an illustration of this opening in the floor, with frame‐work
above to keep the bedclothes from falling on the fire below. A little
wooden box is used for the purpose of holding an earthen receptacle for
coals, and this is taken to bed as a substitute for the hot stone or brick
which is often used at home for a similar purpose. From the inflammable
nature of the bedding, many fires must originate from carelessness in the
use of this luxury.
In this connection it may be well to add that oftentimes little square
thin cushions are provided for guests to sit upon; and one often sees a
light round cushion which is used as elbow‐rest when one is reclining
(_fig. 196_).
Mosquito nettings, or _kaya,_ are to be found in all houses, even the
poorest people being supplied with them. The usual form of netting is made
in the shape of a square box, nearly as large as the room, and this, when
placed in position, is suspended at the four corners by cords which are
tied to pegs in the four corners of the room. A smaller netting for
infants is made on a frame work of bamboo like a cage, and this may be
placed over the infant wherever it may drop to sleep on the mats.
[Fig. 196.—Elbow‐rest.]
Fig. 196.—Elbow‐rest.
An inseparable accompaniment of every Japanese home, from the most exalted
to the very humblest, is the _hibachi._ This object consists of a vessel
partially filled with fine ashes, containing when in use a few bits of
burning charcoal. This vessel may be of bronze, iron, porcelain,
earthenware, or even of wood lined with copper, or a wooden box containing
an earthen vessel. The most usual form of _hibachi_ consists of a square
wooden box lined with copper, between which and the wood is a layer of
clay or plaster (_fig. 200_). A very cheap and common form is a wooden box
in which is a cylindrical jar of black unglazed earthenware (fig. 197).
A pair of iron rods generally held together at one end by a large ring
answer as tongs, being used after the manner of chop‐sticks. These are
either stuck in the ashes, or when the wooden box contains the fire‐vessel
separately there may be secured in the corner of this box a bamboo tube in
which the tongs are kept.
In bronze _hibachi_ there are handles or rings on the sides for
convenience of moving. In the square‐box _hibachi_ cleats are nailed on
opposite sides to answer as handles; or, as is more usually the case,
narrow holes are cut through the sides of the box to accommodate the
fingers, as shown in the previous figure (197).
[Fig. 197.—Common hibachi.]
Fig. 197.—Common hibachi.
Much art and skill are displayed in the bronze and iron _hibachi,_ and
forms such as might be found in an ordinary house in Japan would be
regarded as gems in collections of bric‐à‐brac at home. Even the wooden
_hibachi_ are often objects of exquisite taste. We recall an old one made
of the richest grained wood, in which were drawers at one end to hold
pipes and tobacco, and around the base of the box ran a deep band of black
lacquer inlaid with ornaments of pearl, the design representing in various
positions the iron bits of a horse. So various and oftentimes inexplicable
are the surprises in their designs, that one might almost imagine the
decorator to have opened while blindfolded a dictionary of objects, and to
have taken the first word he saw as the theme for his subject.
[Fig. 198.—Hibachi.]
Fig. 198.—Hibachi.
A very favorite form of wooden _hibachi_ is shown in _fig. 198_. This
consists of a single piece of oak or other hardwood turned in a
cylindrical form, the grain being brought into relief by special
treatment, and the inside lined with copper. An old one richly colored
and polished by age is much esteemed.
The _hibachi_ may be quite a large affair, and subserve the duties of a
stove as well. An iron ring having three legs, or a grid spanning the box,
is provided on which the tea‐kettle is supported, or even fishes broiled.
The _hibachi_ is a sort of portable fireplace, around which the family
gather to gossip, drink tea, or warm their hands. The one represented in
_fig. 199_ shows a little child warming itself, while wrapped in a thick
night‐garment. One will often observe a Japanese absent‐mindedly stirring
the coals or ashes with the tongs, just as we are fond of doing at home.
[Fig. 199.—Hibachi.]
Fig. 199.—Hibachi.
A sentiment prompts many families to keep the _hibachi_ fire burning
continually; and I was told that in one family in Tokio the fire had been
kept alive continuously for over two hundred years.
In a winter party the _hibachi_ are previously arranged by the servants,
one being allotted to each guest; and the place where each is to sit on
the matted floor is often indicated by a little square cloth‐cushion.
_Fig. 200_ illustrates the arrangement of _hibachi_ for company.
Whenever you call on a friend, winter or summer, his very first act of
hospitality is to place the _hibachi_ before you. Even in shops the
_hibachi_ is present, or is brought in and placed on the mats when a
visitor enters.
[Fig. 200.—Hibachi arranged for company.]
Fig. 200.—Hibachi arranged for company.
A smaller form of _hibachi,_ called a _tabako‐bon_ (_fig. 201_), is also
usually brought to a visitor. It is a convenience used by smokers, and is
commonly in the form of a square wooden box containing a small earthen
vessel for holding hot coals, and a segment of bamboo either with or
without a cover. This last is a hand cuspidore, and great refinement is
shown in using it, either by averting the head or screening the mouth with
the hand. The cuspidore, or spittoon, as commonly used by us, seems vulgar
in comparison with that of the Japanese. Sometimes the _tabako‐bon_ is
made out of the burl of an oak in which a natural depression occurs (_fig.
202_). This form is often seen in Japanese picture‐books. Another form is
shown in _fig. 203_. There many and various designs for this convenience,
some of then being very odd. To replenish the _hibachi_ with hot coals
there is provided a shallow iron bowl called a _dai‐jū‐no_ (fig. 204).
[Fig. 201.—Tabako‐bon.]
Fig. 201.—Tabako‐bon.
Upon the bottom of this bowl is riveted a bent strip of iron, which in
turn is secured to a stand of wood. The bowl has an iron socket, into
which is fitted a wooden handle. In this vessel burning coals are brought
by the servant.
[Fig. 202.—Tabako‐box.]
Fig. 202.—Tabako‐box.
[Fig. 203.—Tabako‐box.]
Fig. 203.—Tabako‐box.
When the _hibachi_ is properly arranged, it is customary to heap the ashes
in a pyramidal pile about the coals and mark a series of radiating lines
upon it. The charcoal to replenish the fire is generally kept in a basket,
though sometimes a deep wooden box with a handle is used. The baskets used
for this purpose are always tasty affairs, having often a rich brown color
from age. In the basket is a pair of old brass or copper rods with which
to handle the coal. A single stick of coal buried vertically in the ashes
is burned for several hours. The charcoal‐vender has a curious way of
utilizing the small and pulverized fragments of the charcoal, by mixing
the powder with some kind of sea‐weed, and then forming the mass into
round balls the size of a large orange. In making these balls he goes
through a motion precisely like that seen in making snow‐balls. These are
afterwards dried in the sun, and seem to burn very well. In riding along
the streets one often sees trays filled with these black balls exposed to
the sun.
[Fig. 204.—Pan for holding burning charcoal.]
Fig. 204.—Pan for holding burning charcoal.
Before kerosene oil was introduced into Japan the means of illumination
were of the most meagre description. One can hardly realize the difficulty
a student must have experienced in studying his Chinese Classics by the
feeble light emitted from tiny wicks, or the dim and unsteady flame of a
vegetable‐wax candle,—a light rendered all the more feeble when filtered
through a paper lantern. It is related that in former times devout
students of the Chinese Classics were accustomed at night to read a single
character at a time by the dim illumination of a glowing coal at the end
of an incense‐stick held close to the page! Of the many things which the
Japanese have adopted and promptly utilized from Western nations, I know
of nothing which has been so great a boon to all the people as kerosene
oil. The Western practice of medicine is rapidly displacing the empirical
Chinese practice, and this when accomplished will be, beyond all question,
the greatest boon. There are many outlying districts, however, as well as
thousands of inhabitants of the cities, still under the sway of Chinese
methods, and the beneficent effects of the rational treatment of disease
has not yet been widely felt; but everywhere throughout the Empire the
bright light of kerosene has lengthened the day for all.
Japanese candles are made of a vegetable wax, having a wick consisting of
a roll of paper, not unlike the ordinary paper lamp‐lighter. This wick,
being hollow, is fitted to a sharp spur of iron about an inch long, in the
candlestick (in England the pricket candlestick went out of use a few
centuries ago; in Japan it is still retained). At the top of the candle
the wick projects in a firm, hard point. When a candle has burned low, it
is removed from the candlestick and placed on the end of the new candle,
which is then adjusted on the sharp spur. By this simple device all the
candle is utilized in combustion.
A superior kind of candle, made in the province of Aidsu, is beautifully
painted in bright colors, with designs of flowers and other ornamental
subjects.
Candles are depended upon to illuminate the rooms, as well as to light the
hand‐lanterns which are carried about the streets, and those which are
used for the house,—these last consisting of a square or hexagonal frame,
covered with paper and attached to the end of a short handle.
[Fig. 205.—Iron candlestick.]
Fig. 205.—Iron candlestick.
A common form of Japanese candlestick, called _te‐shoku,_ is represented
in _fig. 205_. It is a rude affair made of iron, supported on three legs,
and has a wide disk to prevent the melted wax from dropping on the mats,
and a ring about the candle to prevent its falling over. It is easily
picked up from the floor by its longer arm.
Another common form of candlestick consists of a hemispherical base of
brass, ten or fifteen inches in diameter, from which a rod of the same
metal runs up to the height of two feet or more, on the end of which is
the usual cup and spur. Candlesticks of this description are seen in _fig.
177_ (page 196).
The snuffer is usually in the form of a blunt pair of tweezers, with which
the burnt wick is removed; the servants, however, often take the
_hibashi,_ or tongs, and, removing the wick, thrust it into the ashes of
the _hibachi._
Candlesticks of rustic design, manufactured of curious woods, are made at
Nikko and other famous resorts, more as mementos to carry away than as
implements intended for actual use.
The Japanese lamp is usually in the form of a shallow saucer, in which
vegetable oil is burned. The wick, consisting of long slender rods of
pith, is held down by a little ring of iron, to which a spur is attached
for a handle. The unburned portion of the wick projects beyond the saucer,
and as it burns away at one end is moved along. The saucer rests in a disk
or ring of iron, which is suspended within a frame covered with paper. A
common form of this lamp, or _andon,_ is shown in _fig. 206_. It consists
of a square frame of wood covered with paper, open above and below, and
having one side in the shape of a movable lid, which can be raised when
the lamp needs tending. This frame is secured to two uprights, which
spring from a wooden stand in which may be a drawer containing extra wicks
and a pair of snuffers. These uprights extend above the lantern, and have
a cross‐piece by which the lantern is lifted, and another cross‐bar just
below from which the lamp hangs. The light from this night‐lamp is feeble
and uncertain, and by it one can barely see his way about the room.
[Fig. 206.—Lamp.]
Fig. 206.—Lamp.
[Fig. 207.—Lamp.]
Fig. 207.—Lamp.
[Fig. 208.—Lamp and laquered stand.]
Fig. 208.—Lamp and laquered stand.
There are many kinds of _andon,_ some being very ingenious. One form is
cylindrical, being composed of two frames, one within the other,—the outer
frame revolving in a groove in the stand. One half of each lantern is
covered with paper, so that by turning the outer frame the openings are
brought together, and thus access is gained to the lamp. Another form of
_andon_(_fig. 207_) opens in a different way, with a little shelf in one
corner to hold the saucer of oil.
Still another form (_fig. 208_) is copied from an old colored picture‐
book; this consists of an elaborate lacquered stand mounted in metal, with
a lamp supported on the top.
In the passage‐ways, and at the head of stairways, lamps are often fixed
to the wall. In Osaka I saw a curious one, which is represented in _fig.
209_. The frame was hung by hinges to a board which was affixed to the
wall (the hinges being above), and rested against the board like a cover,
and was lifted up when the lamp needed attention. In an _andon_ in Osaka,
I saw a good bit of iron‐work (_fig. 210_) made to suspend the lamp.
[Fig. 209.—Wall‐lamp.]
Fig. 209.—Wall‐lamp.
[Fig. 210.—Lamp.]
Fig. 210.—Lamp.
Lamps made of pottery are rarely seen. _Fig. 211_ is a sketch of an old
lamp of Oribe ware from the author’s collection. An inclined portion
within supports the wick, and the cover is notched in front and behind to
allow the passage of the wick. Another form from the same collection,
made in the province of Iga, is shown in _fig. 212_. In this lamp the wick
must have been made from some fibre; a hole in the wick‐tube is seen
through which the wick can be moved along. The handle of the lamp has a
slot in it, so that it may be hung against the wall. It is possible that
these two lamps, or at least the last one, are for the _kami‐dana_, a
shelf which supports the household shrine. In connection with lamps made
of pottery, it may be well to add that now and then one meets with a
pottery candlestick. That shown in _fig. 213_ represents one from the
author’s collection, made of Owari pottery.
[Fig. 211.—Pottery lamp.]
Fig. 211.—Pottery lamp.
Near the _chōdzu‐bachi,_ hanging from the edge of the verandah roof above,
is usually seen an iron lantern, generally a quaint old rusty affair
suspended by a chain, and, when lighted, admitting through the
perforations in its side the faintest possible glimmer. In figs. 240 and
253 (pages 255 and 267) lanterns of this description may be seen.
[Fig. 212.—Pottery lamp.]
Fig. 212.—Pottery lamp.
Street‐lanterns are often affixed to short slender posts at the gateway or
doorway of a dwelling. The usual form of this frame and lantern is
represented _fig. 214_. It is not over five feet in height, and seems to
be a frail affair to expose on a public street. The very frailty and
lightness of such objects, however, often exposed as they are with entire
safety on busy thoroughfares, are striking indications of the gentle
manners of the Japanese. One is led to wonder how long such a delicate
street‐lamp would remain intact in our streets, with those mobs thronging
by that seem to be solely a product of our civilization. These, and a
thousand similar points of contrast, set a thoughtful man reflecting on
the manners and customs of the two great civilizations.
[Fig. 213.—Pottery candlestick.]
Fig. 213.—Pottery candlestick.
[Fig. 214.—Fixed street‐lantern.]
Fig. 214.—Fixed street‐lantern.
In nearly every house one sees perched up on a shelf called the _kami‐
dana_ a curious little architectural affair, which on more special
examination proves to be a model of a Shin‐tō shrine, or a principal
feature of a Shin‐tō altar,—a circular mirror. On the shelf in front of
this are a few lamps (or a single lamp) and trays, containing at times
food‐offerings. If the shrine is in the shape of a box, then accompanying
it are various little brass stands, slips of wood with characters written
upon them, and in short a miniature representation, apparently, of the
paraphernalia used in a large temple. The shelf is high up on the wall
near the ceiling; and in old houses this region is black with the
accumulations of smoke from the little lamp which is lighted every night,
and which may have burned there for a century. These are the Shin‐tō
shrines.
The Buddhist household shrines, having a figure of Buddha or of one of his
disciples, or perhaps of some other god, are much more ornate, and rest on
the floor,—at least so I was informed. My informant also told me that the
majority of the people worship at the shrines of both great beliefs, and
that all Buddhists, unless very strict, have Shintō shrines in their
houses. Indeed, Buddhists and even Buddhist priests have been known to go
into the Roman Catholic cathedral at Osaka, and bow in reverence before
the altar and other emblems of an alien religion. The tolerance and
charity evinced in such acts is something pathetic, when one recalls the
mutually hostile attitude of the two great branches of the Christian
Church!
Flowers and incense‐burning usually accompany the Buddhist household
shrine, while before Shin‐tō shrines incense is not burned. Buddhist
shrines have placed before them lamps of brass, or hanging lamps, while in
front of the Shin‐tō shrine candles of vegetable wax are burned. In
unglazed, hand‐made pottery called _kawarake_ oil is burned, which is also
used for food‐offerings. For offerings of wine, oval bottles of peculiar
shape, with long narrow necks, are used; these are called _miki‐
dokkuri,_—_miki_ being the name of the wine offered to the gods, and
_tokkuri_ the name of a _sake_ bottle. In front of these shrines one may
often see the inmates of the house bow their heads, clap their hands, and
then, rubbing the palms together in an imploring gesture, pray with much
earnestness. So far as I have observed, every house has this domestic
altar. In shops, too, one often sees the shrine; and in the larger and
more wealthy shops the shrine is often a very expensive affair. In a
famous silk‐shop in Tokio is a large model of a Shin‐tō temple suspended
by iron rods from the beams above. In front of it hang two big metal
lanterns. It struck me that this display of piety was rather ostentatious,
and paralleled similar displays sometimes seen at home; in this
supposition, however, I may be doing an injustice. Among the intelligent
classes the household shrine seems to be provided for the female members
of the family only, the men having outgrown these superstitions; and it
was interesting to observe that in Japan, as elsewhere, the women—being as
a rule less informed—made up the majority of those attending public
worship.
[Fig. 215.—Household shrine.]
Fig. 215.—Household shrine.
The sketch here given of a Buddhist household shrine (_fig. 215_) was seen
in a house of the most squalid character. The various vessels were filled
with boiled rice, with loaves of _mochi_ made of a special kind of rice,
and a number of unripe peaches. On the lower shelf, in the right‐hand
corner, are seen a sweet potato and a radish propped up on four legs,
looking like toy deer or beasts of some kind. Whether this indicated the
work of children or represented the horses upon which the gods could take
a ride, was not ascertained.
A household shrine to which the children pay voluntary and natural
devotion are the birds’ nests built within the house. It is a common
thing, not only in the country but in large cities like Tokio, for a
species of swallow, hardly to be distinguished from the European species,
to build its nest in the house,—not in an out‐of‐the‐way place, but in the
room where the family may be most actively engaged, or in the shop
fronting the street, with all its busy traffic going on. The very common
occurrence of these birds’ nests in houses is another of the many
evidences of the gentle ways of this people, and of the kindness shown by
them to animals.
[Fig. 216.—Swallows’ nests in private house.]
Fig. 216.—Swallows’ nests in private house.
When a bird builds its nest in the house, a little shelf is promptly
secured beneath it, so that the mats below shall not be soiled. The
presence of the bird in the house is regarded as a good omen, and the
children take great pleasure in watching the construction of the nest and
the final rearing of the young birds. I noticed that many of the nests
built within the house were much more elaborately made than those built in
more exposed positions. From the symmetrical way in which many of these
were constructed, one might almost imagine the birds had become imbued
with some of the art instincts of the people. _Fig. 216_ illustrates the
appearance of a group of these birds’ nests in a house.
[Fig. 217.—Interior of privy.]
Fig. 217.—Interior of privy.
It would be an affectation of false delicacy were no allusion to be made
to the privy, which in the Japanese house often receives a share of the
artistic workman’s attention. From its position in the house, and
especially in the public house, it is often a source of great discomfort.
In the better class of private houses in Japan, however, there are less
annoyance and infinitely less danger from this source than are experienced
in many houses of the wealthy in our great cities. In the country the
privy is usually a little box‐like affair removed from the house, the
entrance closed half way up by a swinging door. In the city house of the
better class it is at one corner of the house, usually at the end of the
verandah, and sometimes there are two at diagonal corners, as a reference
to the plans will show. A curious superstition among many is attached to
the position of the privy in its relation to the house,—a trace possibly
of the Chinese _Fung‐shui._ The privy generally has two compartments,—the
first one having a wooden or porcelain urinal; the latter form being
called _asagaowa,_ as it is supposed, to resemble the flower of the
morning glory,—the word literally meaning “morning face” (_fig. 219_). The
wooden ones are often filled with branches of spruce, which are frequently
replenished. The inner compartment has a rectangular opening cut in the
floor, and in the better class of privies this is provided with a cover
having a long wooden handle. The wood‐work about this opening is sometimes
lacquered. Straw sandals or wooden clogs are often provided to be worn in
this place.
[Fig. 218.—Privy of inn in Hachi‐ishi village, Nikko.]
Fig. 218.—Privy of inn in Hachi‐ishi village, Nikko.
The interior of these apartments is usually simple, though: sometimes
presenting marvels of cabinet‐work. Much skill and taste are often
displayed in the approaches and exterior finish of of these places.
_Fig. 217_ shows the interior of a common form of privy. Fig. 218
illustrates the appearance of one in an inn at Hachi‐ishi, near Nikko. The
planking in the front of the sketch shows the verandah; from this, at
right angles, runs a narrow platform, having for its border the natural
trunk of a tree; the corner of a little cupboard is seen at the left; the
ceiling is composed of matting made of thin strips of wood, and below is a
dado of bamboo. The opening to the first apartment is framed by a twisted
grape‐vine, while other sticks in their natural condition make up the
frame‐work. Beyond the arched opening is another one closed by a swinging
door; and this is usually the only place in the house where one finds a
hinged door, except, perhaps, on the tall closet under the kitchen stairs.
The roof is covered thickly with the diminutive shingles already alluded
to. Outside a little screen fence is built, a few plants neatly trained
below,—and a typical privy of the better class is shown. The wooden trough
standing on four legs and holding a bucket of water and a washbasin is
evidently an addition for the convenience of foreign guests. The _chōdzu‐
bachi_ with towel rack suspended above, as already described, is the
universal accompaniment of this place.
[Fig. 219.—Privy connected with a merchant’s house in Asakusa.]
Fig. 219.—Privy connected with a merchant’s house in Asakusa.
As one studies this sketch, made at an inn in a country village, let him
in all justice recall similar conveniences in many of the country villages
of Christendom!
In _Fig. 219_ is shown the privy of a merchant in Asakusa, Tokio. The door
was a beautiful example of cabinet‐work, with designs inlaid with wood of
different colors. The interior of this place (_fig. 220_) was also
beautifully finished and scrupulously clean.
[Fig. 220.—Interior of a privy in Asakusa.]
Fig. 220.—Interior of a privy in Asakusa.
The receptacle in the privy consists of a half of an oil barrel, or a
large earthen vessel, sunk in the ground, with convenient access to it
from the outside. This is emptied every few days by men who have their
regular routes; and as an illustration of the value of this material for
agricultural purposes, I was told that in Hiroshima in the renting of the
poorer tenement houses, if three persons occupied a room together the
sewage paid the rent of one, and if five occupied the same room no rent
was charged! Indeed, the immense value and importance of this material is
so great to the Japanese farmer, who depends entirely upon it for the
enrichment of his soil, that in the country personal conveniences for
travellers are always arranged by the side of the road, in shape of
buckets or half‐barrels sunk in the ground.
Judging by our standards of modesty in regard to these matters there would
appear to be no evidence of delicacy among the Japanese respecting them;
or, to be more just, perhaps should say that there is among them no
affectation of false modesty,—a feeling which seems to have developed
among the English‐speaking people more exclusively, and among some of them
to such ridiculous heights of absurdity as often to be fraught with grave
consequences. But among the Japanese it would seem as if the publicity
given by them to the collecting of this important fertilizer had dulled
all sensitiveness on their part, if it ever existed, concerning this
matter.(19) Indeed, privacy in this matter would be impossible when it is
considered that in cities—as in Tokio, for example—of nearly a million of
inhabitants this material is carried off daily to the farms outside, the
vessels in which it is conveyed being long cylindrical buckets borne by
men and horses. If sensitive persons are offended by these conditions,
they must admit that the secret of sewage disposal has been effectually
solved by the Japanese for centuries, so that nothing goes to waste. And
of equal importance, too, is it that of that class of diseases which
scourge our communities as a result of our ineffectual efforts in
disposing of sewage, the Japanese happily know but little. In that country
there are no deep vaults with long accumulations contaminating the ground,
or underground pipes conducting sewage to shallow bays and inlets, there
to fester and vitiate the air and spread sickness and death.
On the other hand it must be admitted that their water supply is very
seriously affected by this sewage being washed into rivers and wells from
the rice‐fields where it is deposited; and the scourge of cholera, which
almost yearly spreads its desolating shadow over many of their southern
towns, is due to the almost universal cultivation of the land by
irrigation methods; and the consequent distribution of sewage through
these surface avenues renders it impossible to protect the water supply
from contamination.