MANNERS.
Decline of etiquette—Politeness and
self-restraint—“Swear-words”—Honorifics—Squatting—Kissing—Calls
made and received—Rules for behaviour in company—Inconsiderate
visitors—Woman’s reserve before strangers—Hospitality—Reticence
on family matters.
In Japan as in most other oriental countries, etiquette is an
extremely intricate art which can be mastered only by diligent study
under a professor. It is an important item in a girl’s school
curriculum and is among her most valued accomplishments. It is not,
however, commonly studied in detail by men, unless they have been
brought up under the old regime; they feel in consequence like fish
out of water when they have to assist at elaborate ceremonies and fall
into many blunders through their nervous efforts to steer clear of
_gaucheries_. Men could well spare the time in the leisurely days of
the feudal government when they could live in competence by taking up
their hereditary offices, professions, or trades and working in the
same grooves as their ancestors had done; but in these days of fierce
competition when every man must strike out for himself to earn a
living, we have little or no time to go into the intricacies of
etiquette. Hence, the more complex forms are gradually falling into
disuse; and the knowledge thereof, and that too not very deep, has
become the monopoly of women. Indeed, though there are plenty of books
on etiquette for women, hardly one, certainly none of any note, has
been published of late years for the use of the other sex.
It is generally conceded that the Japanese are among the politest
people in the world; and some writers go so far as to contrast our
politeness with French by observing that the latter is only skin-deep
while ours is natural and spontaneous. Such a contrast may be
flattering to our national vanity; but we are inclined to doubt
whether it is just. The truth is, we fear, that courtesy is with us
as with the French a matter of education and is to a great extent
a mechanical habit which its enforcement from early childhood at
home and at school has almost made a second nature with us. That
self-control which we possess in common with other Asiatic nations
from its having been instilled into us from generation to generation
by the precepts of our sages, enables us to repress all expression
of emotion whenever necessity arises and even to wear a mask under
the most trying circumstances. Politeness is then with us a great
restraining force in our social life; but once that force is removed
or overpowered by an emotional outburst, we are hurled along as
helplessly as any other people by the master passion of the moment and
betray like them the hooligan in us, as the police reports too often
prove. Our women, from the fact that the outcome of their education is
self-effacement, possess this power of control in a far greater degree
than men. They will go on smiling in the face of insulting remarks and
completely conceal their wounded feelings. This has led many foreign
visitors to imagine that they can address without offence any remarks
however gross to a Japanese woman. She may put up with them without
any sign of anger; but could politeness permit her to retort, these
foreigners would learn with astonishment what cutting sarcasms are
capable of being expressed in “the politest language in the world that
has no swear-word in it.”
Apropos of “swear-words,” their absence in a language is, it may be
observed, no criterion of the gentleness of the people speaking that
tongue. The suave diction of diplomacy can convey a threat far more
effectively than the bluster of Billingsgate; innuendo is a much more
telling weapon in polemics than a direct attack; and courteous or
veiled language gives no key to the moral character of the speaker.
And so it does not necessarily follow that a nation whose language is
rich in honorifics and other terms of respect and reverence is of a
gentler disposition or less robust than one which does not recognise
such niceties of speech; the only difference between the two lies in
the manner in which they give vent to their passion or emotion. For
the former can convey any degree of discourtesy or insult by a
wilful omission of these honorifics in a way which would be well nigh
incomprehensible to people to whom such discrimination is foreign.
There is no need to resort to blasphemy or profanity to express strong
feeling since these honorifics, by their absence or ironical use,
serve all purposes of emotional language. In fact, the words of insult
which are used in common speech sound very mild when translated into
English. An Englishman would probably smile at a Japanese hurling
at his opponent’s head words like fool, beast, and dunderhead as
opprobrious terms, while the Japanese would be equally amused at
the Englishman’s readiness to invoke God’s curse upon everybody and
everything that may fail to please him. Since, then, honorifics play
an important part in Japanese speech, their proper use requires
considerable art and tact. The blunders of the labouring classes in
their use are stock jokes with professional story-tellers; but with
the educated classes solecisms of the kind are of comparatively rare
occurrence. From long practice their right use has become a settled
habit. It would be difficult to explain precisely the force of these
honorifics in common speech; but suffice it to state that words, or
rather syllables, signifying respect are prefixed or affixed to the
words directly referring to the person addressed or spoken of, if
he is a superior or an equal whom it is customary to treat with
consideration. There are also special words and phrases to be used on
such occasions.
These prefixes are commonly translated “honourable” or “august” by
English writers on Japan; thus, phrases which merely mean “your face”
or “his hand,” for instance, are rendered by “the honourable face” or
“the august hand.” But the use of honorifics being, as already stated,
almost a matter of habit, they do not usually convey to the Japanese
the same import and significance as the word “honourable” would to
an Englishman. No doubt, they practically mean that; but the common
honorific prefixes, which are monosyllabic, such as _o_, _go_, and
_mi_, are glibly uttered. If the Japanese, however, had to use each
time in their place the tetrasyllable “honourable,” he would soon
grow out of the habit, just as in all probability an Englishman would
cease to swear if the word “damn” were not such an easily
pronounceable one, short, abrupt, and capable of great emphasis.
This word has no equivalent in Japanese and has to be rendered by a
periphrasis which would sound as strange to an English ear as the word
“honourable” does to a Japanese as a rendering of his common honorific
prefixes. Indeed, the use of the English comminatory word is far more
eccentric when the word comes to be translated; the Japanese honorific
has at least sense, which is more than can always be said for the
English swear-word, when it is uttered as indiscriminately as it
commonly is. Mr. Mantalini, for instance, would be hard put to it if
he were asked to explain what he meant by the little “dems” with which
he peppers his speech, while such an expression as “a damn sight” is
meaningless, and “a damned good fellow” is an even more hopeless
contradiction in terms than “an awfully sweet girl.”
Politeness is early taught in Japanese homes. It is no show-quality to
be exhibited only in company, but is daily practised at home and in
school as an indispensable aid to _savoir-vivre_. Thus, at home every
one bows to his superior in bidding good-morning or good-night. The
servants bow to the children, the servants and children to the master
and mistress, and all to the father or mother of the master or
mistress, who may be living with them. When the last, or the master or
mistress goes out, they are seen to the porch and sped with a bow, and
when they come home, they are met again at the porch with a bow. We
bow squatting with our heads on the mat. This has appeared to many
Europeans to be a more obsequious way of greeting than a hand-shake,
probably because they associate such a bow with grovelling in the
dust, which would certainly be a humiliating posture to a European.
But the two are quite distinct. With us, from our way of squatting on
the floor, no other form of greeting is possible. In fact, until we
cease to squat, that is, until we reform altogether our mode of life,
hand-shaking is out of the question. In Europe courtesy impels a man
to rise to greet a newcomer, but in Japan he greets him squatting;
in Europe a man who comes into the presence of his superior remains
standing until he is bidden to take a seat, but in Japan he squats
at the door of the room until he is invited to come in, whereupon he
shuffles in and makes his salutation. He remains squatting and
does not approach close enough to his host to take his hand; for to
shake it he must squat with his knees almost touching the other’s,
and then, before they could talk at ease, he would have to shuffle
backward, which would look very ungainly. Thus, as we squat too far
apart to shake hands, we can only bow; and politeness prompts us to
bow with our heads on the mats.
[Illustration: BOWING.]
Squatting is an art which needs practice from early childhood. The
easiest way is to sit Turk-wise with our legs crossed in front; but
this can be done only when we are alone or before inferiors, and would
be the height of impoliteness before a superior or an equal unless he
is a very intimate friend. It is permissible now, however, when we are
in European clothes, to sit in this manner at a friend’s house or at
convivial gatherings. But this posture can hardly be called squatting.
Of squatting properly so called, there are two ways. One is to sit on
our feet. This is done by doubling the knees and crossing the feet
behind and laying on them the whole weight of the body. Unless we have
been used to it from childhood, this mode of squatting would give us
pins and needles in a very short time; the feet would go to sleep and
if we tried suddenly to rise, our legs would refuse to support us. Men
squat in this way; but women resort to the other method, which
is to double the knees as in the first case, but to keep the legs and
feet straight out behind without crossing, so that less weight falls
upon them. As the legs are pressed down obliquely and the tendons are
brought into a state of extreme tension, this method is more trying
than the other; but Japanese women can sit in this style for hours on
end without feeling any fatigue. There can be little doubt, however,
that this habit of squatting is injurious to the development of the
body. Most Japanese, if they are not exactly bow-legged, have at least
slightly bent legs owing to the weight of the body constantly resting
on them. The pressure on the heels also stunts the growth of the
lower limbs; for though our trunks are of ordinary length, it is the
shortness of the legs that makes us a nation of small stature. We have
been told by a Japanese medical authority that we lose at least two
inches and a half by this habit of squatting. Now the average height
of a Japanese male adult is five feet three inches and a half and that
of a female is four feet nine inches and a half, so that if we could
abolish squatting and take to chairs, the average heights of our
male and female adults would, according to this authority, be five
feet six inches and five feet respectively.
[Illustration: SITTING WITH CROSSED LEGS.]
[Illustration: SQUATTING.]
We may here add that the reasons which we have given for the
impracticability of hand-shaking in a Japanese house, apply with equal
force to the practice of kissing. A French writer has charged Japanese
lovers with a lack of tenderness as they neither kiss nor shake hands.
But what can the poor lovers do to kiss each other? They cannot fall
into each other’s arms while they remain squatting, for squatting is
not like sitting together on a sofa. When we sit up straight with our
feet under us, the equilibrium of such a posture is as unstable as if
we were perched on a high stool. It is very rude to remain standing
and even to speak before squatting, so that kissing while we are
on our legs is not to be thought of. To squat side by side may be
pleasant, and it may be possible to snatch a kiss; but when they are
locked in each other’s arms, the lovers would run a great risk of
sprawling on the floor. To squat face to face with the knees touching,
would require the body to be bent forward as if we were going to
wrestle; and if the lovers were then to take each other’s arms, there
would be a regular tussle and their balance would be more uneven than
before. As they could not get at each other without finally rolling on
the mats, sweethearts with any sense of decorum would have to forgo
the pleasure of kissing; for when we squat, it is much easier to lie
down on the floor than to get up again. Lovers, however, are not
altogether without the means of approaching each other and feeling the
electric thrill which the mere touch appears to give them; for, on the
stage at least, their favourite position is to squat back to back and
lean against each other. They are satisfied if their cheeks touch, for
kissing is difficult without twisting the neck enough to sprain the
muscles. Kissing, then, as a mode of salutation among lovers and near
relatives, has never been recognised in this country, because the
internal arrangement of our houses and other conditions of life have
militated against its practice; and perhaps, could some means be found
to bring about its appreciation by the bulk of the nation, that would
be more efficacious than any other measure for the westernisation of
our domestic life.
Though good manners are insisted upon at home, they are, needless
to say, exhibited to the full in company when one makes a call or
receives visitors. The usual manner in which a call is made and
received is as follows:—The visitor, on going up to the front door,
does not knock or ring as there is neither a knocker nor a
bell-handle. He bawls out; and as the doors are all sliding-doors, he
is easily heard, though he has sometimes to call out again and again
before his voice reaches the kitchen. When the door is answered and
the master of the house apprised of the call, the visitor is shown in;
he leaves his hat, greatcoat, and umbrella in the porch and is ushered
into the parlour. A cushion is immediately set for him and another for
the host; but the visitor does not, unless he is an intimate friend,
sit on it until his host comes in and urges him to do so. We often
stand very much on ceremony in this respect; we take the cushion only
upon repeated invitation; one who wishes to show great respect will
decline to squat on it however much he may be pressed. The host and
the visitor then bow to each other with their hands and foreheads on
the mat. They apologise, if they are acquaintances, for past neglect
to visit each other, ask after each other’s family, and probably, make
a few observations on the weather, bowing with each remark, inquiry,
and answer. A brazier is brought in if it is cold; but in warm weather
a “tobacco-tray” is set before the host and the visitor. Tea and
confectionery are also invariably offered. When the visitor leaves,
there is another succession of bows, and the host and a servant see
him to the porch and there bid him good-bye.
As to behaviour in company, the following quaint directions are given
in an old book on etiquette for women, which though primarily intended
for the instruction of the gentler sex, are also applicable to men,
among whom the tendency is, as has already been remarked, to be
somewhat lax in the observance of the minutiæ of etiquette:
“A woman should always get up early, wash her face, and carefully
comb her hair, for it is rude to appear with dishevelled hair.”
“Do not stare at other people, male or female, and be very careful
in your speech. Do not tell anything without being asked, make
confessions, or speak boastfully of yourself, and above all, on no
account speak ill of others.”
“When you are in the presence of your superior, do not scratch
yourself; but if any part of your body itches so badly that you cannot
help scratching it, put a finger on the spot and give it a hard
scratch so that the itchiness may be absorbed in the pain so caused.
Do not wipe sweat off your face or blow your nose; but if you must do
so, run into the next room or turn your face away from your superior.
In blowing your nose, first blow gently, then a little louder, and
finally gently again. But you should, if possible, do these things
before you come into your superior’s presence.”
“Do not use a toothpick in company, for it is extremely rude to talk
with one in your mouth.”
“Do not pare your nails, comb your hair, or tighten your _obi_ in
company, or glance at a letter that another is reading or writing.”
“Do not step upon other people’s cushions, beds, or feet; but
always bear in mind that the only things you may tread on are your
clogs and the only things you may step over are the grooves of the
sliding-doors.”
“If any one invites you to go out with her, do not put on a finer
dress than hers; you should ascertain by previous inquiry what
she is going to wear. Do not scent yourself too much or have strong
scent-bags about you.”
“It is not good form when you make a call to sit in the middle of a
room, and it savours too much of a novice to sit in a corner. Do not
make a noise by opening and folding a fan, or fidget with a tea-cup;
and do not show a tired face and yawn or pretend not to hear what is
being said to you. Moreover, when you have a visitor, do not be
constantly looking at the clock and let her suspect that you are
impatient for her departure.”
“When you meet a superior in the street, bow low so that the tips of
your fingers, with your hands extended downwards, may touch your feet.
Do not get flurried and give incoherent answers; but steady yourself
by fixing your eyes upon the lady’s knees if she is one whom you wish
to treat with the greatest respect, upon her _obi_ if the respect is
to be of a slightly lesser degree, and upon the crest of her _haori_
if that respect is still less. Look your equal in the face.”
“In handing a knife to a superior, if it is hers, take the handle in
your left hand with the blade pointing towards yourself; but if it is
yours, take the handle sideways so that the blade points to her left.
In either case the right hand should rest on the mat as you bend
forward. Always use the left hand before your superiors.”
“Never enter another’s house unannounced, however intimate you may be
with her; for if you were to come upon an untidy room, your intrusion
would be no less unpleasant for yourself than for your hostess.”
“In leading a blind man into a room, let him rest a hand on your
shoulder, or catch hold of a fan in your hand or of your sleeve. It
is rude to lead him by the hand.”
“It is extremely rude to send a caller away when you are at home; but
some people go so far as to decide whether they shall be at home or
not, only after they have heard the caller’s name.”
“Nothing is more displeasing to a hostess than to have a a visitor
who stays on without having anything particular to say. We should not
therefore pay a needlessly long visit or make too frequent calls.
Intimate friends should, however, call occasionally; but neither
the hostess nor the caller is without business of some kind; and if a
person is offended with another for not calling on her often enough,
there is no need to become intimate with her. If you have business to
do with any one, consider the hour of your visit; do not call too
early in the morning or too late at night or at meal-time. If there
is a caller before you, wait till she leaves before broaching your
business, or else call again.”
The women of Japan probably talk as much as those of any other
country. They chat freely with their friends, but they are reserved
before strangers and open their mouths only when they are addressed.
They are taught not to boast of their knowledge or try to show it off.
Hence, if a stranger asks them a question out of the common, they
generally profess ignorance. A Japanese knows this; and when he makes
a woman’s acquaintance, he takes care not to lead the conversation
outside the merest commonplaces; but the foreigner who has no idea
of this custom is apt to get a false impression and has indeed not
unfrequently pronounced her to be little better than a doll with no
thought beyond dresses and trivialities of life.
Another misapprehension prevails among European writers who praise
Japanese hospitality, but complain that a Japanese, while he receives
a foreigner at his house, maintains at the same time strict reserve on
the subject of his family. Some have attributed it to an anti-foreign
feeling; but whatever other indications of a bias against foreigners
these writers may have detected in individual cases, the fact which
they adduce cannot in itself be regarded in that light, for a Japanese
guest is placed in much the same position. The host, in his desire
to show an interest in his guest, often asks him minutely about his
people at home, which some Englishmen have resented as impertinence;
but touching his own family affairs he is usually very reticent. He
is anxious to keep his private concerns in the background and will
assume a cheerful countenance even in the midst of the most pressing
difficulties. His idea of hospitality is that nothing should be
allowed to interfere with his guest’s enjoyment. Even personal
grief is concealed under a smile, and a member of the family may be
seriously ill without the guest getting an inkling of the fact.
A visitor to any member of the household is considered to have a
claim upon the hospitality of the whole family; and he is royally
entertained though the rest may suffer inconvenience, as when the
parlour in which the guest squats is the family bed-room and they have
all to sit up till he leaves.
Our hospitality is admitted; but what a European visitor misses is the
appearance of the wife and other members of the family at the dinner
or supper to which he is invited. The husband, as the head of the
family, is its sole representative, and his presence is sufficient for
doing the honours. The wife seldom appears unless the visitor is a
family friend or she is acquainted with his wife. Such an invitation
as taking pot-luck is seldom given; politeness requires us to
depreciate our offering, but we treat to our best. We therefore
entertain and are entertained without our wives’ participation. It is
nothing extraordinary to have friends of many years’ standing, whose
wives we have never seen. It is then absurd to attribute this
reticence respecting our family affairs to any sentiment hostile to
our foreign visitors. Our social point of view is indeed so different
to the occidental that a European generally falls into an error when
he tries to judge our customs from his own standpoint.