It would be an extremely interesting line of research to follow out the
history of the development of the house in Japan. The material for such a
study may possibly be in existence, but unfortunately there are few
scholars accomplished enough to read the early Japanese records. Thanks to
the labors of Mr. Chamberlain, and to Mr. Satow, Mr. Aston, Mr.
McClatchie, and other members of the English legation in Japan,(26)
students of Ethnology are enabled to catch a glimpse of the character of
the early house in that country.
From the translations of ancient Japanese Rituals,(27) by Ernest Satow,
Esq.; of the _Kojiki,_ or “Records of Ancient Matters,”(28) by Basil Hall
Chamberlain, Esq.; and an ancient Japanese Classic(29), by W. G. Aston,
Esq.,—we get a glimpse of the Japanese house as it was a thousand years or
more ago.
Mr. Satow claims that the ancient Japanese Rituals are “the oldest
specimens of ancient indigenous Japanese literature extant, excepting only
perhaps the poetry contained in the ‘Kojiki’ and ‘Nihongi;’ ” and Mr.
Chamberlain says the “Kojiki” is “the earliest authentic connected
literary product of that large division of the human race which has been
variously denominated Turanian, Scythian, and Altaïc, and it if even
precedes by at least a century the most ancient extant literary
compositions of non‐Aryan India.”
The allusions to house‐structure in the “Kojiki,” though brief, are
suggestive, and carry us back without question to the condition of the
Japanese house in the seventh and eighth centuries.
Mr. Satow, in his translation of the Rituals, says that the period when
this service was first instituted was certainly before the tenth century,
and probably earlier. From these records he ascertains that “the palace of
the Japanese sovereign was a wooden hut, with its pillars planted in the
ground, instead of being erected upon broad, flat stones, as in modern
buildings. The whole frame‐work, consisting of posts, beams, rafters,
door‐posts, and window‐frames, was tied together with cords, made by
twisting the long fibrous stems of climbing plants,—such as Pueraria
Thunbergiana _(kuzu)_ and Wistaria Sinensis _(fuji)._ The floor must have
been low down, so that the occupants of the building, as they squatted or
lay on their mats, were exposed to the stealthy attacks of venomous
snakes, which were probably far more numerous in the earliest ages when
the country was for the most part uncultivated than at the present
day…There seems some reason to think that the _yuka,_ here translated
‘floor,’ was originally nothing but a couch which ran around the sides of
the hut, the rest of the space being simply a mud‐floor; and that the size
of the couch was gradually increased until it occupied the whole interior.
The rafters projected upward beyond the ridge‐pole, crossing each other as
is seen in the roofs of modern Shin‐tau temples, whether their
architecture be in conformity with early traditions (in which case all the
rafters are so crossed), or modified in accordance with more advanced
principles of construction, and the crossed rafters retained only as
ornaments at the two ends of the ridge. The roof was thatched, and perhaps
had a gable at each end, with a hole to allow the smoke of the wood‐fire
to escape,—so that it was possible for birds flying in and perching on the
beams overhead, to defile the food, or the fire with which it was cooked.”
From the “Kojiki” we learn that even in those early days the house was
sufficiently differentiated to present forms referred to as temples or
palaces, houses of the people, storehouses, and rude huts. That the
temples or palaces were more than rude huts is shown by references to the
verandah, the great roof, stout pillars, and high cross‐beams. They were
at least two stories high, as we read of people gazing from an upper
story. The peasants were not allowed to build a house with a raised roof
frame,—that is, a roof the upper portion or ridge of which was raised
above the roof proper, and having a different structure. This indicates
the existence at that time of different kinds of roofs, or ridges. Fire‐
places were in the middle of the floor, and the smoke‐outlet was in the
gable end of the roof protected by a lattice,—as seen in the Japanese
country houses of to‐day. The posts or pillars of the house were buried
deep in the ground, and not, as in the present house, resting on a stone
foundation.
The allusions in the “Kojiki,” where it says, “and if thou goest in a boat
along that road there will appear a palace built like fish‐scales,” and
again, “the ill‐omened crew were shattered like tiles,” show the existence
of tiles at that time. A curious reference is also made to using
cormorants’ feathers for thatch. There were front doors and back doors,
doors to be raised, and windows and openings.
It is mentioned that through the awkwardness of the carpenter the farther
“fin” of the great roof is bent down at the corner,—probably indicating
wide over‐hanging eaves, the corners of which might easily be called
“fins.” Within the house were mats of sedge, skin, and silk, and
ornamental screens protect the sleepers from draughts of air.(30) The
castles had back gates, side gates, and other gates. Some of these gates,
at least, had a roof‐like structure above, as we read in the “Kojiki,”
“Come under the metal gate; we will stand till the rain stops.”
Fences are also alluded to. The latrine is mentioned several times as
being away from the house, and having been placed over running
water,—“whence doubtless the name _Kaha‐ya;_ that is, river‐house.” This
feature is specially characteristic of the latrine, from Siam to Java.
This suggestion of early finities with the Malay people is seen in an
ancient Japanese Classic, dating from the tenth century, entitled
_Monogatari,_ or “Tales of Japan,” translated by Mr. Chamberlain,(31) in
which we read, “Now, in olden days the people dwelt in houses raised on
platforms built out in the river Ikuta.” In the “Kojiki”, we also read,
“They made in the middle of the river Hi a black plaited bridge, and
respectfully offered a temporary palace to dwell in.” The translator says
the significance of this passage is: “They built as a temporary abode for
the prince a house in the river Hi (whether with its foundations actually
in the water or on an island is left undetermined), connecting it with the
main‐land by a bridge made of branches of trees; twisted together, and
with their bark left on them (this is here the import of the word
_black)._”
The “Kojiki” mentions a two‐forked boat: may this be some kind of a
catamaran? Mention is also made of eating from leaf‐platters: this is a
marked Malay feature.
These various statements—particularly those concerning the latrine, and
building houses over the water—are significant indications of the marked
southern affinities of the Japanese. Other features of similarity with
southern people are seen in the general structure of the house.
The principal references which have been made to the “Kojiki” are quoted
here for the convenience of the reader. For the history of the origin of
this ancient record, methods of translation, etc., the reader is referred
to Mr. Chamberlain’s Introduction accompanying the translation.
And the ill‐omened crew were shattered like tiles (p. 8).
So when from the palace she raised the door and came out to meet
him (p. 34).
Taking him into the house, and calling him into an eight‐foot‐
spaced large room (p. 73).
Do thou make stout the temple‐pillars at the foot of Mount Uka in
the nethermost rock‐bottom, and make high the cross‐beams to the
Plain‐of‐High‐Heaven (p. 74).
I push back the plank‐door shut by the maiden (p. 76).
Beneath the fluttering of the ornamented fence, beneath the
softness of the warm coverlets, beneath the rustling of the cloth
coverlet (p. 81).
The translator says “the ‘ornamented fence’ is supposed to mean ‘a curtain
round the sleeping‐place.’ ”
The soot on the heavenly new lattice of the gable, etc. (p.
105).(32)
Using cormorants’ feathers for thatch (p. 126).
The manner in which I will send this sword down will be to
perforate the ridge of [the roof of] Takakurazhi’s store‐house,
and drop it through!(p. 135)
In a damp hut on the reed‐moor, having spread layer upon layer of
sedge mats, we two slept! (p. 149).
When she was about to enter the sea, she spread eight thicknesses
of sedge rugs, eight thicknesses of skin rugs, and eight
thicknesses of silk rugs on top of the waves (p. 212).
So when the grandee of Kuchiko was repeating this august Song [to
the Empress], it was raining heavily. Then upon his, without avoid
the rain, coming and prostrating himself at the front door of the
palace, on the contrary went out at the back door; and on his
coming and prostrating himself at the back door of the palace, she
on the contrary went out at the front door (p. 278).
Then the Heavenly Sovereign, going straight to the place where
Queen Medori dwelt, stood on the door‐sill of the palace (p. 281).
Had I known that I should sleep on the
Moor of Tajihi, Oh! I would have brought
My dividing matting. (p. 288.)
“Then, on climbing to the top of the mountain and gazing on the
interior of the country, [he perceived that] there was a house
built with a raised roof‐frame. The Heavenly Sovereign sent to ask
[concerning] that house, saying, ‘Whose roof with a raised frame
is that?’ The answeri was: ‘It is the house of the great
Departmental Lord of Shiki.’ Then the Heavenly Sovereign said:
‘What! a slave builds his own house in imitation of the august
abode of the Heavenly Sovereign!’—and forthwith he sent men to
burn the house [down]” (p. 311).
Thereupon the grandee Shibi sang, saying,—
The further fin of the roof of the great
Palace is bent down at the corner.
When he had thus sung, and requested the conclusion of tha Song,
His Augustness Woke sang, saying,—
It is on account of the great carpenter’s
Awkwardness that it is bent down at the
Corner. (p. 330.)
In the ancient Japanese Rituals, Mr. Satow finds that the rafters
projected upward beyond the ridge‐pole of the roof crossing each other,—as
is seen in the roofs of modern Shin‐tō temples. A curious feature is often
seen on the gable ends of the roofs of the Malay houses near Singapore,
consisting of projecting pieces crossing each other at the two ends of the
roof; and these are ornamented by being cut in odd sweeps and curves
(_fig. 303_). Survivals of these crossing rafters are seen in the modern
Japanese dwelling; that is, if we are to regard as such the wooden X’s
which straddle the roof at intervals, as shown in figs. 45 (page 62) and
85 (page 98). A precisely similar feature is seen on the roofs of houses
along the river approaching Saigon, and on the road leading from Saigon to
Cholon, in Anam (fig. 304).
[Fig. 303.—Malay house near singapore.]
Fig. 303.—Malay house near singapore.
It has been customary to regard the _tokonoma,_ or bed‐place, in the
Japanese house as being derived from the Aino house. The suggestion of
such a derivation seems to me to have no foundation. In the Aino house the
solid ground is the floor; sometimes, but not always, a rush mat is spread
along the side of the fireplace, which is in the centre of the hut. The
slightest attention to comfort would lead the Ainos to erect a platform of
boards,—and such a platform is generally found next to the wall in the
Aino hut. This platform not only serves as a sleeping‐place, but holds
also boxes and household goods, as well as such objects as were not
suspended to the sides of the houses or from poles stretched across. In
no case did I see a raised platform protected by a partition, or one
utilized solely for a sleeping‐place. If it were safe to venture upon any
conjecture as to the origin of the _tokonoma,_ or if external resemblances
had any weight in affinities of structure, one might see the prototype of
this feature in the Malay house. In the Malay villages near Singapore, one
may see not only a slightly raised place for the bed exclusively, but also
a narrow partition jutting out from the side of the wall, not unlike that
which separates the _tokonoma_ from its companion recess (_fig. 305_).
[Fig. 304.—Ridge of roof in Cholon, Anam.]
Fig. 304.—Ridge of roof in Cholon, Anam.
Whether these various relations pointed out between the Japanese house and
similar features in the Malay house are of any weight or not, they must be
recognized in any attempt to trace the origin of those features in house‐
structure which have originated outside of Japan. From all that we can
gather relating to the ancient house of the Japanese, it would seem that
certain important resemblances must be sought for among the southern
nations of Anam, Cochin China, and particularly those of the Malay
peninsula.
[Fig.305.—Interior of Malay house, showing bed‐place. Singapore.]
Fig. 305.—Interior of Malay house, showing bed‐place. Singapore.
Ernest Satow, Esq., in an article on the Shin‐tō temples of Ise,(33)
which, as the author says, “rank first among all the Shin‐tō temples in
Japan in point of sanctity, though not the most ancient,” has some
interesting matter concerning the character of the ancient house. He
says:—
“Japanese antiquarians tell us that in early times, before carpenters’
tools had been invented, the dwellings of the people who inhabited these
islands were constructed of young trees with the bark on, fastened
together with ropes made of the rush _(suge,_—Scirpus maritimus), or
perhaps with the tough shoots of the wistaria _(fuji),_ and thatched with
the grass called _kaya._ In modern buildings the uprights of a house stand
upon large stones laid on the surface of the earth; but this precaution
against decay had not occurred to the ancients, who planted the uprights
in holes dug in the ground.”
The ground‐plan of the hut was oblong, with four corner uprights, and one
in the middle of each of the four sides,—those in the sides which formed
the ends being long enough to support the ridge‐pole. Other trees were
fastened horizontally from corner to corner,—one set near the ground, one
near the top, and one set on the top, the latter of which formed what we
call the wall‐plates. Two large rafters, whose upper ends crossed each
other, were laid from the wall‐plates to the heads of the taller uprights.
The ridge‐pole rested in the fork formed by the upper ends of the rafters
crossing each other. Horizontal poles were then laid along each slope of
the roof, one pair being fastened close up to the exterior angle of the
fork. The rafters were slender poles, or bamboos, passed over the ridge‐
pole and fastened down on each end to the wall‐plates. Next followed the
process of putting on the thatch. In order to keep this in its place, two
trees were laid along the top resting in the forks; and across these two
trees were placed short logs at equal distances, which being fastened to
the poles in the exterior angle of the forks by ropes passed through the
thatch, bound the ridge of the roof firmly together.
“The walls and doors were constructed of rough matting. It is evident that
some tool must have been used to cut the trees to the required length; and
for this purpose a sharpened stone was probably employed. Such stone
implements have been found imbedded in the earth in various parts of
Japan, in company with stone arrow‐heads and clubs. Specimens of the
ancient style of building may even yet be seen in remote parts of the
country,—not perhaps so much in the habitations of the peasantry, as in
sheds erected to serve a temporary purpose.”
“The architecture of the Shin‐tō temples is derived from the primeval hut,
with more or less modification in proportion to the influence of Buddhism
in each particular case. Those of the purest style retain the thatched
roof; others are covered with the thick shingling called _hiwada‐buki,_
while others have tiled and even coppered roofs. The projecting ends of
the rafters called _chigi_ have been somewhat lengthened, and carved more
or less elaborately. At the new temple at Kudanzaka in Yedo they are shown
in the proper position, projecting from the inside of the shingling; but
in the majority of cases they merely consist of two pieces of wood in the
form of the letter X, which rest on the ridge of the roof like a pack‐
saddle on a horse’s back, to make use of a Japanese writer’s comparison.
The logs which kept the two trees laid on the ridge in their place have
taken the form of short cylindrical pieces of timber tapering towards each
extremity, which have been compared by foreigners to cigars. In Japanese
they are called _katsuo‐gi,_ from their resemblance to the pieces of dried
bonito sold under the name of _katsuo‐bushi._ The two trees laid along the
roof over the thatch are represented by a single beam, called _Munaosae,_
or ‘roof‐presser.’ Planking has taken the place of the mats with which the
sides of the building were originally closed, and the entrance is closed
by a pair of folding doors, turning not on hinges, but on what are, I
believe, technically called ‘journals.’ The primeval hut had no flooring;
but we find that the shrine has a wooden floor raised some feet above the
ground, which arrangement necessitates a sort of balcony all round, and a
flight of steps up to the entrance. The transformation is completed in
some cases by the addition of a quantity of ornamental metal‐work in
brass.”
Coming down to somewhat later times, we find a charming bit of description
of the house in an ancient Japanese Classic(34) entitled _Tosa Nikki,_ or
“Tosa Diary,” translated by W. G. Aston. This Diary was written in the
middle of the tenth century, and is the record of a court noble who lived
in Kioto, but who was absent from his home five or six years as Prefect of
Tosa. The Diary was a record of his journey home, and the first entry in
it was in the fourth year of Shohei, which according to our reckoning must
have been in the early part of 935 A.D., or nearly one thousand years ago.
During his absence from home, news had come to him of the death of his
little daughter nine years old; and he says, “With the joyful thought,
‘Home to Kioto!’ there mingles the bitter reflection that there is one who
never will return.”
The journey home was mostly by sea; and finally, having entered the Osaka
River, and spent several days in struggling against the strong current, he
reaches Yamazaki, from which place he starts for Kioto. He expresses great
delight in recognizing the old familiar landmarks as he rides along. “He
mentions the children’s playthings and sweetmeats in the shops as looking
exactly as when he went away, and wonders whether he will find as little
change in the hearts of his friends. He had purposely left Yamazaki in the
evening in order that it might be night when he reached his own dwelling.”
Mr. Aston translates his account of the state in which he found it:—
“The moon was shining brightly when I reached my house and entered the
gate, so that its condition was plainly to be seen. It was decayed and
ruined beyond all description,—worse even than I had been told. The
house(35) of the man in whose charge I left it was in an equally
dilapidated condition. The fence between the two houses had been broken
down, so that both seemed but one, and he appeared to have fulfilled his
charge by looking in through the gaps. And yet I had supplied him, by
every opportunity, with the means of keeping it in repair. To‐night,
however, I would not allow him to be told this in an angry tone, but in
spite of my vexation offered him an acknowledgment for his trouble. There
was in one place something like a pond, where water had collected in a
hollow, by the side of which grew a fir‐tree. It had lost half its
branches, and looked as if a thousand years had passed during the five or
six years of my absence. Younger trees had grown up round it, and the
whole place was in a most neglectful condition, so that every a one said
that it was pitiful to see. Among other sad thoughts that rose
spontaneously to my mind was the memory—ah! how sorrowful!—of one who was
born in this house, but who did not return here along with me. My fellow‐
passengers were chatting merrily with their children in their arms, but I
meanwhile, still unable to contain my grief, privately repeated these
lines to one who knew my heart.”
In this pathetic account one gets a glimpse of the house as it appeared
nearly a thousand years ago. The broken fence between the houses; the
gateway, probably a conspicuous structure then as it is to‐day, in a
dilapidated condition; and the neglected garden with a tangle of young
trees growing up,—all show the existence in those early days of features
similar to those which exist to‐day.
The history of house development in Japan, if it should ever be revealed,
will probably show a slow but steady progress from the rude hut of the
past to the curious and artistic house of to‐day,—a house as thoroughly a
product of Japan as is that of the Chinese, Korean, or Malay a product of
those respective peoples, and differing from all quite as much as they
differ from one another. A few features have been introduced from abroad,
but these have been trifling as compared to the wholesale imitation of
foreign styles of architecture by our ancestors, the English; and until
within a few years we have followed England’s example in perpetuating the
legacy it left us, in the shape of badly imitated foreign architecture,
classical and otherwise. As a result, we have scattered over the land,
among a few public buildings of good taste, a countless number of ill‐
proportioned, ugly, and entirely inappropriate buildings for public use.
Had the exuberant fancies of the village architect revelled in woodsheds
or one‐storied buildings, the harm would have been trifling; but the
desire for pretentious show, which seems to characterize the average
American, has led to the erection of these architectural horrors on the
most conspicuous sites,—and thus the public taste is vitiated.
The Japanese, while developing an original type of house, have adopted the
serviceable tile from Korea, and probably also the economical transverse
framing and vertical struts from China, and bits of temple architecture
for external adornments. As to their temple architecture, which came in
with one of their religions, they had the good sense to leave it
comparatively as it was brought to them. Indeed, the temples seem in
perfect harmony with the country and its people. What shall we say,
however, to the taste displayed by the English, who in the most servile
manner have copied foreign styles of architecture utterly unsuited to
their climate and people! In the space of an English block one may see not
only Grecian, Roman, Italian, and Egyptian, as well as other styles of
architecture, but audaciously attempted crosses between some of these; and
the resulting hybrids have in consequence rendered the modern English town
the most unpicturesque muddle of buildings in Christendom outside our own
country.(36)