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To William Sturgis Bigelow, M.D.
In memory of the delightful experiences in the
Heart of Japan
this volume is affectionately inscribed
by the
AUTHOR.
In an exceedingly interesting article on the early study of the Dutch in Japan, by Professor K. Mitsukuri,
Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan, vol. v., part i. p. 207.
Miyada was almost eccentric in his disposition. He held it to be a solemn duty to learn any art or accomplishment that might be going out of the world, and then describe it so fully that it might be preserved to posterity.
The nephew was faithful to his uncle's instructions, and though following medicine for his profession, he took it upon himself to learn
hitoyogiri,
—a certain kind of music which was well-nigh forgotten,—and even went so far as to study a kind of dramatic acting.
Though not animated by Miyada's spirit when I set about the task of collecting the material embodied in this work, I feel now that the labor has not been altogether in vain, as it may result in preserving many details of the Japanese house,—some of them trivial, perhaps,—which in a few decades of years may be difficult, if not impossible, to obtain. Whether this has been accomplished or not, the praiseworthy ambition of the old Japanese scholar might well be imitated by the ethnological student in his investigations,—since nothing can be of greater importance than the study of those nations and
Thanks to the activity of a number of students of various nationalities in the employ of the Japanese government, and more especially to the scholarly The Feudal Mansions of Yedo;
and though this was written but ten years after the revolution of 1868, he speaks of the many cases deserted, ruined, and fallen into decay;
and he describes observances and manners connected with the etiquette of the gates,
exchange of yashiki,
rules relating to fires,
etc., which were then obsolete at the time of his writing, though in full force but a few years before.
I shall be particularly grateful for any facts concerning the Japanese house beyond those recorded in this book, or which
I wish to express my gratitude to Dr. W. S. Bigelow, whose delightful companionship I enjoyed during the collection of many of the facts and sketches contained in this volume, and whose hearty sympathy and judicious advice were of the greatest service to me. To Professor and Mrs. E. F. Fenollosa, also, my thanks are especially due for unnumbered kindnesses during my last visit to Japan.
I would also here return my thanks to a host of Japanese friends who have at various times, in season and out of season, granted me the privilege of sketching their homes and examining their dwellings from top to bottom in quest of material for this volume; who furthermore have answered questions, translated terms, hunted up information, and in many ways aided me,—so that it may be truly said, that had this assistance been withheld, but little of my special work could have been accomplished. Any effort to recall the names of all these friends would lead to the unavoidable omission of some; nevertheless, I must specially mention Mr. H. Takamine, Director of the Tokio Normal School; Dr. Seiken Takenaka; Mr. Tsunejiro Miyaoka; Mr. S. Tejima, Director of the Tokio Educational Museum; Professors Toyama, Yatabe, Kikuchi, Mitsukuri, Sasaki, and Kozima, and Mr. Ishikawa and others, of the University of Tokio; Mr. Isawa and Mr. Kodzu, Mr. Fukuzawa, the distinguished teacher and author; Mr. Kashiwagi, Mr. Kohitsu, and Mr. Masuda. I must also acknowledge my indebtedness to Mr. H. Kato, Director of the University of Tokio, to Mr. Hattori, Vice-director, and to Mr. Hamao and other officers of the Educational Department, for many courtesies, and for special accommodations during my
To the Board of Trustees of the Peabody Academy of Science, who, recognizing the ethnological value of the work I had in hand, granted me a release from my duties as Director until I could complete it; and to Professor John Robinson, Treasurer of the Academy, and Mr. T. F. Hunt, for friendly suggestions and helpful interest, as also to Mr. Percival Lowell for numerous courtesies,—my thanks are due. I must not forget to record here my indebtedness to Mr. A. W. Stevens, chief proof-reader of the University Press, for his invaluable assistance in the literary part of my labors, and for his faithful scrutiny of the proof-sheets. At the same time I desire to thank Miss Margarette W. Brooks for much aid given to me in my work; my daughter, Miss Edith O. Morse, for the preliminary tracings of the drawings from my journals; Mr. L. S. Ipsen, who drew the unique and beautiful design for the cover of this book; Mr. A. V. S. Anthony for judicious supervision of the process-work in the illustrations; the University Press for its excellent workmanship in the printing of the book; and the Publishers for the generous manner in which they have supported the undertaking. I will only add, that the excellent Index to be found at the end of this book was prepared by Mr. Charles H. Stevens.
Within twenty years there has gradually appeared in our country a variety of Japanese objects conspicuous for their novelty and beauty,—lacquers, pottery and porcelain, forms in wood and metal, curious shaped boxes, quaint ivory carvings, fabrics in cloth and paper, and a number of other objects as perplexing in their purpose as the inscriptions which they often bore. Most of these presented technicalities in their work as enigmatical as were their designs, strange caprices in their ornamentation which, though violating our hitherto recognized proprieties of decoration, surprised and yet delighted us. The utility of many of the objects we were at loss to understand; yet somehow they gradually found lodgment in our rooms, even displacing certain other objects which we had been wont to regard as decorative, and our rooms looked all the prettier for their substitution. We found it difficult to formulate the principles upon which such art was based, and yet were compelled to recognize its merit. Violations of perspective, and colors in juxtaposition or coalescing that before we had regarded as inharmonious, were continually reminding us of Japan and her curious people. Slowly our methods of decoration became imbued with these ways so new to us, and yet so many centuries old to the people among whom these arts had originated. Gradually yet surely, these arts, at first so little understood,
It was not to be wondered at that many of our best artists,—men like Coleman, Vedder, Lafarge, and others,—had long fore recognized the transcendent merit of Japanese decorative art. It was however somewhat remarkable that the public at large should come so universally to recognize it, and in so short a time. Not only our own commercial nation, but art-loving France, musical Germany, and even conservative England yielded to this invasion. Not that new designs were evolved by us; on the contrary, we were content to adopt Japanese designs outright, oftentimes with a mixture of incongruities that would have driven Japanese decorator stark mad. Designs appropriate for the metal mounting of a sword blazed out on our ceilings; motives fror a heavy bronze formed the theme for the decoration of friable pottery; and suggestions from light crape were woven into hot carpets to be trodden upon. Even with this mongrel admixture, it was a relief by any means to have driven out of our dwelling the nightmares and horrors of design we had before endured so meekly,—such objects, for example, as a child in dead brass, kneeling in perpetual supplication on a dead brass cushion, while adroitly balancing on its head a receptacle for kerosene oil; and a whole regiment of shapes equally monstrous. Our walls no longer assailed us with designs that wearied our eyes and exasperated our brains by their inanities. We were no longer doomed to wipe our feet on cupids, horns of plenty, restless tigers, or scrolls of architectural magnitudes. Under the benign influence of this new spirit it came to be realized that it was not always necessary to tear a flower in bits to recognize its decorative value; and that the simplest objects in Nature—a spray of
The Japanese exhibit at the Centennial exposition in Philadelphia came to us as a new revelation; and the charming onslaught of that unrivalled display completed the victory. It was then that the Japanese craze took firm hold of us. Books on Japan rapidly multiplied, especially books on decorative art; but it was found that such rare art could be properly represented only in the most costly fashion, and with plates of marvellous elaboration. What the Japanese were able to do with their primitive methods of block-printing and a few colors, required the highest genius of our artists and chromo-lithographers; and even then the subtile spirit which the artist sought for could not be caught.
The more intelligent among our collectors soon recognized that the objects from Japan divided themselves into two groups,—the one represented by a few objects having great intrinsic merit, with a refinement and reserve of decoration; the other group, characterized by a more florid display and less delicacy of treatment, forming by far the larger number, consisting chiefly of forms in pottery, porcelain, lacquer and metal work. These last were made by the Japanese expressly for the foreign market, many of them having no place in their economy, and with few exceptions being altogether too gaudy and violent to suit the Japanese taste. Our country became flooded with them; even the village grocery displayed them side by side with articles manufactured at home for the same class of customers, and equally out of place in the greater marts of the country. To us, however, these objects were always pretty, and were moreover so much cheaper, with all their high duties and importer's profits, than the stuff to which we had been accustomed, that they helped us out amazingly at every recurring Christmas. Of the better class of objects, nearly all of them were originally
Naturally great curiosity was awakened to know more about the social life of this remarkable people; and particularly was it desirable to know the nature of the house that sheltered such singular and beautiful works of art. In response to the popular demand, book after book appeared; but with some noteworth exceptions they repeated the same information, usually prefaced by an account of the more than special privileges accorded to their authors by the Japanese government, followed by history of the Japanese empire from its first emperor down the present time,—apparently concise enough, but interminable with its mythologies, wars, decays, restorations, etc. Then we had the record of an itinerary of a few weeks at some treaty port, or of a brief sojourn in the country, where, to illustrate the bravery of the author, imaginary dangers were conjured up; a wild guess at the ethnical enigma, erroneous conceptions of Japanese character and customs,—the whole illustrated by sketches derived from previous works on the same subject, or from Japanese sources, often without due credit being given; and finally we were given a forecast of the future of Japan, with an account of the progress its public were making in adopting outside customs, with no warning of the acts of
In these books on Japan we look in vain for any but the most general description of what a Japanese home really is; even Rein's work, so apparently monographic, dismisses the house and garden in a few pages.
It may be well to state here that most of the good and reliable contributions upon Japan are to be found in the Transactions of the English and German Asiatic Societies published in Yokohama; also in the pages of the Japan
Among the many valuable papers published in these Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan, is one by Thomas R. H. McClatchie, Esq., on
Professor Huxley has said in one of his lectures, that if all the books in the world were destroyed, with the exception of the Philosophical Transactions, Mail,
in the now extinct Tokio Times,
and in a most excellent but now defunct magazine called the Chrysanthemum,
whose circulation becoming vitiated by the theological sap in its tissues, finally broke down altogether from the dead weight of its dogmatic leaves.
The Feudal Mansions of Yedo,
vol. vii. part iii. p. 157, which gives many important facts concerning a class of buildings that is rapidly disappearing, and to which only the slightest allusion has been made in the present work. The reader is also referred to a Paper in the same publication by George Cawley, Esq., entitled Some Remarks on Constructions in Brick and Wood, and their Relative Suitability for Japan,
vol. vi. part ii. p. 291; and also to a Paper by R. H. Brunton, Esq., on Constructive Art in Japan,
vol. ii. p. 64; vol. iii. part ii. p. 20.
it is safe to say that the foundations of Physical Science would remain unshaken, and that the vast intellectual progress of the last two centuries would be largely though incompletely recorded.
In a similar way it might almost be said of the Japan Mail,
that if all the books which have been written by foreigners upon Japan were destroyed, and files of the Japan Mail
alone preserved, we should possess about all of value that has been recorded by foreigners concerning that country. This journal not only includes the scholarly productions of its editor, Capt. F. Brinkley, as well as an immense mass of material from its correspondents, but has also published the Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan in advance ot the Society's own publications.
In the following pages occasion has often led to criticism and comparison. Aside from any question of justice, it would seem as if criticism, to be of any value, should be comparative; that is to say, in any running commentary on Japanese ways and conditions the parallel ways and conditions of one's own people should be as frankly pointed out, or at least recognized. When
This duty, however, even to fair and unprejudiced minds, becomes a matter of great difficulty. It is extraordinary how blind one may be to the faults and crimes of his own people, and how reluctant to admit them. We sing heroic soldier-songs with energy and enthusiasm, and are amazed to find numbers in a Japanese audience disapproving, because of the bloody deeds celebrated in such an exultant way. We read daily our papers the details of the most blood-curdling crimes, and often of the most abhorrent and unnatural ones; and yet we make no special reflections on the conditions of society where such things are possible, or put ourselves much out of the way to arouse the people to a due sense of the degradation and stain on the community at large because of such things. But we go to another country and perhaps find a new species of vice; its novelty at once arrests our attention, and forthwith we howl at the enormity of the crime and the degradation of the nation in which such a crime could originate, send home the most exaggerated accounts, malign the people without stint, and then prate to them about Christian charity!
In the study of another people one should if possible look through colorless glasses; though if one is to err in this respect, it were better that his spectacles should be rose-colored than grimed with the smoke of prejudice. The student of Ethnology as a matter of policy, if he can put himself in no more generous attitude, had better err in looking kindly and favorably
We repeat that such investigation must be approached in a spirit of sympathy, otherwise much is lost or misunderstood. This is not only true as to social customs, but also as to studies in other lines of research as well. Professor Fenollosa, the greatest authority on Japanese pictorial art, says most truthfully that it is not enough to approach these delicate children of the spirit with the eye of mere curiosity, or the cold rigid standard of an alien school. One's heart must be large enough to learn to love, as the Japanese artist loves, before the veil can be lifted to the full splendor of their hidden beauties.
In this spirit I have endeavored to give an account of Japanese homes and their surroundings. I might have dealt only with the huts of the poorest, with the squalor of their inmates, and given a meagre picture of Japanese life; or a study might have been made of the homes of the wealthy exclusively, which would have been equally one-sided. It seemed to me, however, that a description of the homes of the middle classes, with occasional reference to those of the higher and lower types, would perhaps give a fairer picture of the character and structure of Japanese homes and houses, than had I pursued either of the other courses. I may have erred in looking through spectacles
In regard to Japanese houses, there are many features not to my liking; and in the ordinary language of travellers I might speak of these houses as huts and hovels, cold and cheerless, etc., and give such a generic description of them as would include under one category all the houses on the Pacific coast from Kamtchatka to Java. Faults these houses have; and in criticising them I have endeavored to make my reflections comparative; and I have held up for comparison much that is objectionable in our own houses, as well as the work done by our own artisans. But judging from the rage and disgust expressed in certain English publications, where one writer speaks of
Still another English writer says: much of the work for wage as positively despicable,
and another of the miseries entailed by the unscientific builder, my comparison may legitimately extend to England also.It is unpleasant to live within ugly walls; it is still more unpleasant to live within unstable walls: but to be obliged to live in a tenement which is both unstable and ugly is disagreeable in a tenfold degree.
He thinks it is quite time to evoke legislation to remedy these evils, and says: An Englishman's house was formerly said to be his castle; but in the hands of the speculating builder and advertising tradesman, we may be grateful that it does not oftener become his tomb.
In the present volume the attempt has been made to describe the Japanese house and its immediate surroundings in general and in detail. No one realizes better than the author the meagreness in certain portions of this work. It is believed, however, that with the many illustrations, and the classification of the subject-matter, much will be made clear that before was vague. The figures are in every case fac-similes by one of the
The openness and accessibility of the Japanese house are a distinguishing feature of Japan; and no foreigner visits that country without bringing away delightful memories of the peculiarly characteristic dwellings of the Japanese. On the occasion of the author's last visit to Japan he also visited China, Anam, Singapore, and Java, and made studies of the houses of these various countries, with special reference to the Japanese house and its possible affinities elsewhere.
A BIRD'S-EYE view of a large city in Japan presents an appearance quite unlike that
presented by any large assemblage of buildings at home. A view of Tokio, for example,
from some elevated point reveals a vast sea of roofs,—the gray of the shingles and dark slate-color of the tiles, with dull reflections from their surfaces, giving a sombre effect to the whole. The even expanse is broken here and there by the fire-proof buildings, with their ponderous tiled roofs and ridges and pure white or jet-black walls. These, though in color adding to the sombre appearance, form, with the exception of the temples, one of the most conspicuous features in the general monotony. The temples are indeed conspicuous, as they tower far above the pigmy dwellings which surround them. Their great black roofs, with massive ridges and ribs, and grand sweeps and white or red gables, render them striking objects from whatever point they are viewed. Green
It is a curious sight to look over a vast city of nearly a million inhabitants, and detect no chimney with its home-like streak of blue smoke. There is of course no church spire, with its usual architectural inanities. With the absence of chimneys and the almost universal use of charcoal for heating purposes, the cities have an atmosphere of remarkable clearness and purity; so clear, indeed, is the atmosphere that one may look over the city and see distinctly revealed the minuter details of the landscape beyond. The great sun-obscuring canopy of smoke and fumes that forever shroud some of our great cities is a feature happily unknown in Japan.
Having got such a bird's-eye view of one city, we have seen them all,—the minor variations consisting, for the most part, in the inequalities of the sites upon which they rest. A view of Kioto, for example, as seen from some high point, is remarkably beautiful and varied, as the houses creep out between the hills that hem it in. In Nagasaki the houses literally rise in tiers from the water's edge to the hills immediately back, there to become blended with the city of the dead which caps their summits. A view of Nagasaki from the harbor is one of surpassing interest and beauty. Other large cities, such as Sendai, Osaka, Hiroshima, and Nagoya present the same uniform level of roofs.
The compact way in which in the cities and towns the houses are crowded together, barely separated by the narrow streets and lanes which cross like threads in every direction, and the peculiarly inflammable material of which most of the buildings are composed, explain the lightning-like rapidity with which a conflagration spreads when once fairly under way.
In the smaller villages the houses are stretched along the sides of a single road, nearly all being arranged in this way,
It is a curious fact that one may ride long distances in the country without passing a single dwelling, and then abruptly enter a village. The entrance to a village is often marked by a high mound of earth on each side of the road, generally surmounted by a tree; or perhaps the evidences of an old barrier are seen in the remains of gate-posts or a stone-wall. Having passed through the village one enters the country again, with its rice-fields and cultivated tracts, as abruptly as he had left it. The villages vary greatly in their appearance: some are extremely trim and pretty, with neat flower-plats in front of the houses, and an air of taste and comfort everywhere apparent; other villages present marked evidences of poverty, squalid houses with dirty children swarming about them. Indeed, the most striking contrasts are seen between the various villages one passes through in a long overland trip in Japan.
It is difficult to imagine a more dreary and dismal sight than the appearance of some of these village streets on a rainy night. No brightly-lighted window cheers the traveller; only
In the cities the quarters for the wealthier classes are not so sharply defined as with us, though the love for pleasant outlooks and beautiful scenery tends to enhance the value of certain districts, and consequently to bring together the wealthier classes. In nearly all the cities, however, you will find the houses of the wealthy in the immediate vicinity of the habitations of the poorest. In Tokio one may find streets, or narrow
Before proceeding with a special description of Japanese homes, a general description of the house may render the chapters that are to follow a little more intelligible.
The first sight of a Japanese house,—that is, a house of the people,—is certainly disappointing. From the infinite variety and charming character of their various works of art, as we had seen them at home, we were anticipating new delights and surprises in the character of the house; nor were we on more intimate acquaintance to be disappointed. As an American familiar with houses of certain types, with conditions among them signifying poverty and shiftlessness, and other conditions signifying refinement and wealth, I was not competent to judge the relative merits of a Japanese house.
The first sight, then, of a Japanese house is disappointing; it is unsubstantial in appearance, and there is a meagreness of color. Being unpainted, it suggests poverty; and this absence of paint, with the gray and often rain-stained color of the boards, leads one to compare it with similar unpainted buildings at home,—and these are usually barns and sheds in the country, and the houses of the poorer people in the city. With one's eye accustomed to the bright contrasts of American houses with their white, or light, painted surfaces; rectangular windows,
One of the chief points of difference in a Japanese house as compared with ours lies in the treatment of partitions and outside walls. In our houses these are solid and permanent; and when the frame is built, the partitions form part of the framework. In the Japanese house, on the contrary, there are two or more sides that have no permanent walls. Within, also, there are but few partitions which have similar stability; in their stead are slight sliding screens which run in appropriate grooves in the floor and overhead. These grooves mark the limit of each room. The screens may be opened by sliding them back, or they may be entirely removed, thus throwing a number of rooms into one great apartment. In the same way the whole side of a house may be flung open to sunlight and air. For communication between the rooms, therefore, swinging doors are not necessary. As a substitute for windows, the outside screens, or
Where external walls appear they are of wood unpainted, or painted black; and if of plaster, white or dark slate colored. In certain classes of buildings the outside wall, to a height of several
While most houses of the better class have a definite porch and vestibule, or
The privy is at one corner of the house, at the end of the verandah; sometimes there are two at diagonal corners of the
In city houses the kitchen is at one side or corner of the house; generally in an L, covered with a pent roof. This apartment is often towards the street, its yard separated from other areas by a high fence. In the country the kitchen is nearly always under the main roof. In the city few out-buildings such as sheds and barns are seen. Accompanying the houses of the better class are solid, thick-walled, one or two storied, fire-proof buildings called godowns,
have one or two small windows and one door, closed by thick and ponderous shutters. Such a building usually stands isolated from the dwelling, though often in juxtaposition; and sometimes, though rarely, it is used as a domicile.
In the gardens of the better classes summer-houses and shelters of rustic appearance and diminutive proportions are often seen. Rustic arbors are also to be seen in the larger gardens. Specially constructed houses of quaint design and small size are not uncommon; in these the ceremonial tea-parties take place. High fences, either of board or bamboo, or solid walls of mud or tile with stone foundations, surround the house or enclose it from the street. Low rustic fences border the gardens in the suburbs. Gateways of various styles, some of imposing design, form the entrances; as a general thing they are either rustic and light, or formal and massive.
Whatever is commonplace in the appearance of the house is towards the street, while the artistic and picturesque face is turned towards the garden, which may be at one side or in the rear of the house,—usually in the rear. Within these plain and unpretentious houses there are often to be seen marvels of exquisite carving,
In the sections which are to follow, an attempt will be made by description and sketches to convey some idea of the details connected with the structure and inside finish of the Japanese house.
There is no object in Japan that seems to excite more diverse and adverse criticism among foreigners than does the Japanese house; it is a constant source of perplexity and annoyance to most of them. An Englishman particularly, whom Emerson says he finds to be him of all men who stands firmest in his shoes,
recognizes but little merit in the apparently frail and perishable nature of these structures. He naturally dislikes the anomaly of a house of the lightest description oftentimes sustaining a roof of the most ponderous character, and fairly loathes a structure that has no king-post, or at least a queen-post, truss; while the glaring absurdity of a house that persists in remaining upright without a foundation, or at least without his kind of a foundation, makes him furious. The mistake made by most writers in criticising Japanese house-structure, and indeed many other matters connected with that country, is that these writers do not regard such matters from a Japanese stand-point. They do not consider that the nation is poor, and that the masses are in poverty; nor do they consider that for this reason a Japanese builds such a house as he can afford, and one that after all is as thoroughly adapted to his habits and wants as ours is to our habits and wants.
The observation of a Japanese has shown him that from generation to generation the houses of his people have managed to sustain themselves; and if in his travels abroad he has chanced to visit England, he will probably recall the fact that he saw
When one of these foreign critical writers contemplates the framework of a Japanese house, and particularly the cross-beams of the roof, and finds no attempt at trussing and bracing, he is seized with an eager desire to go among these people as a missionary of trusses and braces,—it is so obvious that much wood might be saved! In regard to the Japanese house-frame, however, it is probable that the extra labor of constructing braces and trusses would not compensate for the difference saved in the wood.
Rein, in his really admirable book on Japan, says the Japanese house lacks chiefly solidity and comfort.
If he means comfort for himself and his people, one can understand him; if he means comfort for the Japanese, then he has not the faintest conception of the solid comfort a Japanese gets out of his house. Rein also complains of the evil odors of the closet arrangements, though his complaints refer more particularly to the crowded inns, which are often in an exceedingly filthy condition as regards these necessary conveniences,—and one is led to inquire what the Japanese would think of similar features in Germany, where in the larger cities the closet may be seen opening directly into the front hall, and in some cases even from the dining-room! Bad as some of these conditions are in Japan, they are mild in comparison with like features in Germany. The filthy state of the larger cities, in this respect, may be indicated by the fact that the death-rate of Munich a few years ago was forty-four, and Kaulbach died of cholera in that city in mid-winter! Indeed, the presence of certain features in every bed-chamber at home and abroad are looked upon as surpassingly filthy by every Japanese,—as they truly are.
Rein and other writers speak of the want of privacy in Japanese dwellings, forgetting that privacy is only necessary in the midst of vulgar and impertinent people,—a class of which Japan has the minimum, and the so-called civilized races—the English and American particularly—have the maximum.
For my part, I find much to admire in a Japanese house, and some things not to my comfort. The sitting posture on the floor is painful until one gets accustomed to it; and, naturally, I find that our chairs are painful to the Japanese, until they become accustomed to them. I found the Japanese house in winter extremely cold and uncomfortable; but I question whether their cold rooms in winter are not more conducive to health than are our apartments with our blistering stoves, hot furnaces or steam-heaters; and as to the odors arising from the closet in certain country inns, who does not recall similar offensive features in many of our country inns at home, with the addition of slovenly yards and reeking piggeries? I question, too, whether these odors are more injurious to the health than is the stifling air from a damp and noisome cellar, which not only filters through our floors, but is often served to us hot through scorching furnaces. Whittier's description of the country house,—
The best room Stifling with cellar-damp, shut from the air In hot midsummer,—
is only too true of many of our American houses both in the country and city.
Whether the Japanese house is right or wrong in its plan and construction, it answers admirably the purposes for which it was intended. A fire-proof building is certainly beyond the means of a majority of this people, as, indeed, it is with us; and not being able to build such a dwelling, they have from necessity gone to the other extreme, and built a house whose very structure enables it to be rapidly demolished in the path
The improvements, however, that are imperatively demanded in Japanese house-structure are such modifications as shall render the building less inflammable. While these inflammable houses may be well enough in the suburbs or in country villages, they are certainly quite out of place in cities; and here, indeed, the authorities are justified in imposing such restrictions as shall not bear too heavily upon the people.
The Japanese should clearly understand that insuperable difficulties are to be encountered in any attempt to modify their style of dwellings, and that many of such proposed modifications are neither judicious nor desirable. That slight changes for safety may be effected, however, there can be no doubt. Through the agency of science, means may be found by which outside woodwork may be rendered less inflammable,—either by fire-proof paint or other devices.
The mean path of Tokio conflagrations has been ingeniously worked out by Professor Yamakawa, from data extending back two hundred years; and in this path certain areas might be left open with advantage. Fire-proof blocks in foreign style, such as now exist on the Ginza, may be ultimately constructed in this path. Since the last great conflagration, the Tokio authorities have specified certain districts within which shingled roofs shall not be made; and where such roofs existed, the authorities have compelled the substitution of tin, zinc, or tiled roofs. Above all,
The frame-work of an ordinary Japanese dwelling is simple and primitive in structure; it consists of a number of upright beams which run from the ground to the transverse beams and inclines of the roof above. The vertical framing is held together either by short strips which are let in to appropriate notches in the uprights to which the bamboo lathing is fixed, or by
The accurate way in which the base of the uprights is wrought to fit the inequalities of the stones upon which they
rest, is worthy of notice. In the Emperor's garden we saw a two-storied house finished in the most simple and exquisite manner. It was, indeed, like a beautiful cabinet, though disfigured by a bright-colored foreign carpet on its lower floor. The uprights of this structure rested on large oval beach-worn stones buried endwise in the ground; and upon the smooth rounded portions of the stones, which projected above the level of the ground to a height of ten inches or more, the uprights had been most accurately fitted (fig. 6). The effect was extremely light and buoyant, though apparently insecure to the last degree; yet this building had not only withstood a number of earthquake shocks, but also the strain of severe typhoons, which during the summer months sweep over Japan with such violence. If the building be very small, then the frame consists of four corner-posts running to the roof. In dwellings having a frontage of two or more rooms, other uprights occur between the corner-posts. As the rooms
This cross-beam is often a straight unhewn stick of timber from which the bark has been removed (fig. 49). Indeed, most of the horizontal framing-timbers, as well as the rafters,
For a narrow house, if the roof be a gable, a central upright at each end of the building gives support to the ridge-pole from which the rafters run to the eaves (fig. 8). If the building be wide, a transverse beam traverses the end of the building on a level with the eaves, supported at intervals by uprights from the ground; and upon this short uprights rest, supporting
In the case of a wide gable-roof there are many ways to support the frame, one of which is illustrated in the following outline (fig. 10). Here a stout stick of timber runs from one end of the house to the other on a vertical line with the ridge-pole, and on a level with the eaves. This stick is always crowning, in order to give additional strength. A few thick uprights start from this to support the ridge-pole above; from these uprights beams run to the eaves; these are mortised into the uprights, but at different levels on either side in order not to weaken the uprights by the mortises. From these beams run short supports to the horizontal rafters above.
The roof, if it be of tile or thatch, represents a massive weight,—the tiles being thick and quite heavy, and always bedded in a thick layer of mud. The thatch, though not so heavy, often becomes so after a long rain. The roof-framing consequently has oftentimes to support a great weight; and though in its structure looking weak, or at least primitive in design, yet experience must have taught the Japanese carpenter that their methods were not only the simplest and most economical, but that they answered all requirements. One is amazed
The beams that support the roofs of the fire-proof buildings, or So convinced were the Egyptians and Greeks of this principle, that they never used any other construction-expedient than a perpendicular wall or prop, supporting a horizontal beam; and half the satisfactory effect of their buildings arises from their adhering to this simple though expensive mode of construction. They were perfectly acquainted with the use of the arch and its properties, but they knew that its employment would introduce complexity and confusion into their designs, and therefore they wisely rejected it. Even to the present day the Hindus refuse to use the arch, though it has long been employed in their country by the Mahometans. As they quaintly express it,
an arch never sleeps;
and it is true that by its thrusting and pressure it is always tending to tear a building to pieces. In spite of all counterpoises, whenever the smallest damage is done it hastens the ruin of a building which, if more simply constructed, might last for ages.
When the frame is mortised, the carpenter employs the most elaborate methods of mortising, of which there are many different formulas; yet I was informed by an American architect that their ways had no advantage as regards strength over those employed by our carpenters in doing the same work. There certainly seems to be much unnecessary work about many of their framing-joints. This same gentleman greatly admired the way in which the Japanese carpenter used the adze, and regretted that more of this kind of work was not done in America. In scarfing beams a common form of joint is made, precisely similar to that made by our carpenters (fig. 4). This joint is called a
Fig. 12 represents the frame-work of an ordinary two-storied house. It is copied from a Japanese carpenter's drawing, kindly furnished the writer by Mr. Fukuzawa, of Tokio, proper corrections in perspective having been made. The various parts have been
lettered, and the dimensions given in Japanese feet and inches. The Japanese foot is, within the fraction of an inch, the same as ours, and is divided into ten parts, called
Diagonal bracing in the frame-work of a building is never seen. Sometimes, however, the uprights in a weak frame are supported by braces running from the ground at an acute angle, and held in place by wooden pins (fig. 13). Outside diagonal braces are sometimes met with as an ornamental feature. In the province of Ise one often sees a brace or bracket made out of an unhewn piece of timber, generally the proximal portion of some big branch. This is fastened to an upright, and appears to be a brace to hold up the end of a horizontal beam that projects beyond the eaves. These braces, however, are not even notched
In the village of Naruge, in Yamato, I noticed in an old inn a diagonal brace which made a pleasing ornamental feature to a solid frame-work, upon which rested a ponderous supplementary roof, heavily tiled. As the horizontal beams were supported by uprights beyond the ends of the brackets, no additional strength was gained by these braces in question, except as they might prevent fore and aft displacement. They were placed here solely for their ornamental appearance; or at least that was all the function they appeared to perform (fig. 15).
The frame-work of a building is often revealed in the room in a way that would delight the heart of an Eastlake. Irregularities in the form of a stick are not looked upon as a hindrance in the construction of a building. From the way such crooked beams are brought into use, one is led to believe that the builder prefers them. The desire for rustic effects leads to the selection of odd-shaped timber. Fig. 7 represents the end of a room, wherein is seen a crooked cross-piece passing through a central upright, which sustains the ridge-pole.
In the finish of the rooms great care is shown in the selection and preparation of the wood. For the better rooms the wood is
Special details of the room will be described in other chapters. It may be well to state here, however, that in the finish of the interior the
The ordinary ceiling in a Japanese house consists of wide thin boards, with their edges slightly overlapping. These boards at first sight appear to be supported by narrow strips of wood like slender beams, upon which the boards rest (fig. 96). On reflection, however, it soon becomes apparent that these diminutive
cross-beams, measuring in section an inch square or less, are altogether inadequate to support the ceiling, thin and light as the boards composing it really are. As one examines the ceiling, he finds no trace of pin or nail, and finally comes to wonder how the strips and boards are held in place, and why the whole ceiling does not sag.
The accompanying sketches will illustrate the various stages in the construction of the ceiling.
We have been thus explicit in describing the ceiling, because so few even among the Japanese seem to understand precisely the manner in which it is suspended.
In long rooms one is oftentimes surprised to see boards of great width composing the ceiling, and apparently continuous from one end of the room to the other. What appears to be a
The advantage of keeping all the boards of a given log in juxtaposition will be readily understood. In our country a carpenter has to ransack a lumber-yard to find wood of a similar grain and color; and even then he generally fails to get wood of precisely the same kind.
The permanent partitions within the house are made in various ways. In one method, bamboo strips of various lengths take the place of laths. Small bamboos are first nailed in a vertical position to the wooden strips, which are fastened from one upright to another; narrow strips of bamboo are then secured across these bamboos by means of coarse cords of straw, or bark fibre (fig. 4). This partition is not unlike our own plaster-and-lath partition. Another kind of partition may be of boards; and against these small bamboo rods are nailed quite close together, and upon this the plaster is put. Considerable pains are taken as to the plastering. The plasterer brings to the house samples of various-colored
Many of the partitions between the rooms consist entirely of light sliding screens, which will be specially described farther on. Often two or more sides of the house are composed entirely of these simple and frail devices. The outside permanent walls of a house, if of wood, are made of thin boards nailed to the frame horizontally,—as we lay clapboards on our houses. These may be more firmly held to the house by long strips nailed against the boards vertically. The boards may also be secured to the house vertically, and weather-strips nailed over the seams,—as is commonly the way with certain of our houses. In the southern provinces a rough house-wall is made of wide slabs of bark, placed vertically, and held in place by thin strips of bamboo nailed cross-wise. This style is common among the poorer houses in Japan; and, indeed, in the better class of houses it is often used as an ornamental feature, placed at the height of a few feet from the ground.
Outside plastered walls are also very common, though not of a durable nature. This kind of wall is frequently seen in a dilapidated condition. In Japanese picture-books this broken condition is often shown, with the bamboo slats exposed, as a suggestion of poverty.
In the cities, the outside walls of more durable structures, such as warehouses, are not infrequently covered with square tiles, a board wall being first made, to which the tiles are secured by being nailed at their corners. These may be placed in diagonal
As the fire-proof buildings, or
A newly-finished
The windows of the buildings are small, and each is closed either by a sliding-door of great thickness and solidity, or by double-shutters swinging together. The edges of these shutters have a series of rabbets, or steps, precisely like those seen
A somewhat extended experience with the common everyday carpenter at home leads me to say, without fear of contradiction, that in matters pertaining to their craft the Japanese carpenters are superior to American. Not only do they show their superiority in their work, but in their versatile ability in making new things. One is amazed to see how patiently a Japanese carpenter or cabinet-maker will struggle over plans, not only drawn in ways new and strange to him, but of objects equally new,—and struggle successfully. It is a notorious fact that most of the carpenters in our smaller towns and villages are utterly incompetent to carry out any special demand made upon them, outside the building of the conventional two-storied house and ordinary roof. They stand bewildered in the presence of a window-projection or cornice outside the prescribed ruts with which they and their fathers were familiar. Indeed, in most cases their fathers were not carpenters, nor will their children be; and herein alone the Japanese carpenter has an immense advantage over the American, for his trade, as well as other trades, have been perpetuated through generations of families. The little children have been brought up amidst the odor of
When I see one of our carpenters' ponderous tool-chests, made of polished woods, inlaid with brass decorations, and filled to repletion with several hundred dollars' worth of highly polished and elaborate machine-made implements, and contemplate the work often done with them,—with everything binding that should go loose, and everything rattling that should be tight, and much work that has to be done twice over, with an indication everywhere of a poverty of ideas,—and then recall the Japanese carpenter with his ridiculously light and flimsy tool-box containing a meagre assortment of rude and primitive tools,—considering the carpentry of the two people, I am forced to the conviction that civilization and modern appliances count as nothing unless accompanied with a moiety of brains and some little taste and wit.
It is a very serious fact that now-a-days no one in our country is acquiring faithfully the carpenter's trade. Much of this lamentable condition of things is no doubt due to the fact that machine-work has supplanted the hand-work of former times.
General Francis A. Walker, in his Lowell Lectures on the United States Census for 1880, shows that carpenters constitute the largest single body of artisans working for the supply of local wants. He shows that the increase of this body from decade to decade is far behind what it should be if it increased in the ratio of the population; and though this fact might excite surprise, he shows that it is due to the enormous increase in machine-made material, such as doors, sashes, blinds, etc.; in other words, to the making of those parts which in former times trained a man in delicate work and accurate joinery.
There is no question but that in England apprentices serve their time at trades more faithfully than with us; nevertheless, the complaints that go up in the English press in regard to poor and slovenly work show the existence of a similar class of impostors, who defraud the public by claiming to be what they are not. The erratic Charles Reade, in a series of letters addressed to the
In regard to sash windows, he says: Pall Mall Gazette,
on builders' blunders, inveighs against the British workmen as follows: When last seen, I was standing on the first floor of the thing they call a house, with a blunder under my feet,—unvarnished, unjoined boards; and a blunder over my head,—the oppressive, glaring plaster-ceiling, full of the inevitable cracks, and foul with the smoke of only three months' gas.
This room is lighted by what may be defined
the unscientific window.
Here, in this single structure, you may see most of the intellectual vices that mark the unscientific mind. The scientific way is always the simple way; so here you have complication on complication,—one half the window is to go up, the other half is to come down. The maker of it goes out of his way to struggle with Nature's laws; he grapples insanely with gravitation, and therefore he must use cords and weights and pulleys, and build boxes to hide them in. He is a great hider. His wooden frames move up and down wooden grooves, open to atmospheric influence. What is the consequence? The atmosphere becomes humid; the wooden frame sticks in the wooden box, and the unscientific window is jammed. What, ho! Send for the
It may be interesting, in this connection, to mention a few of the principal tools one commonly sees in use among the Japanese carpenters. After having seen the good and serviceable carpentry, the perfect joints and complex mortises, done by good Japanese workmen, one is astonished to find that they do their work without the aid of certain appliances considered indispensable by similar craftsmen in our country. They have no bench, no vise, no spirit-level, and no bit-stock; and as for labor-saving machinery, they have absolutely nothing. With many places which could be utilized for water-power, the old country saw-mill has not occurred to them.
A Government bureau called the
In using many of the tools, the Japanese carpenter handles them quite differently from our workman; for instance, he draws the plane towards him instead of pushing it from him. The planes are very rude-looking implements. Their bodies, instead of being thick blocks of wood, are quite wide and thin (fig. 27,
Draw-shaves are in common use. The saws are of various kinds, with teeth much longer than those of our saws, and cut in different ways. Some of these forms reminded me of the teeth seen in certain recently patented saws in the United States. Some saws have teeth on the back as well as on the front, one edge being used as a cross-cut saw (fig. 27
The adze is provided with a rough handle bending considerably at the lower end, not unlike a hockey-stick (fig. 27,
For drilling holes a very long-handled awl is used. The carpenter seizing the handle at the end, between the palms of his hands, and moving his hands rapidly back and forth, pushing down at the same time, the awl is made rapidly to rotate back and forth; as his hands gradually slip down on the handle he quickly seizes it at the upper end again, continuing the motion as before. One is astonished to see how rapidly holes are drilled in this simple, yet effective way. For large holes, augers similar to ours are used. Their chisel is also much like ours in shape. For nailing in places above the easy reach of both hands they use a hammer, one end of which is prolonged to a point; holding, then, a nail between the thumb and finger with the hammer grasped in the same hand, a hole is made in the wood with the pointed end of the hammer, the nail inserted and driven in.
A portable nail-box is used in the shape of a round basket, to which is attached a short cord with a button of wood or
There are three implements of the
Japanese carpenter which are inseparable
companions; these are the
A plumb-line is made with a strip of wood four or five feet in length, to each end of which is nailed, at right angles, a strip of wood four or five inches long, projecting an inch on one side. These two transverse strips are of exactly the same length, and are so adjusted to the longer strip as to project the same distance. From the longer arm of one of these pieces is suspended a cord with a weight at the lower end. In plumbing a wall, the short ends of the transverse pieces are brought against the wall or portion to be levelled, and an adjustment is made till the cord just touches the edge of the lower arm. The accompanying sketch (fig. 31) will make clear the appearance and method of using this simple device.
In gluing pieces of wood together, more especially veneers, the Japanese resort to a device which is common with American cabinet-makers,—of bringing into play a number of elastic or bamboo rods, one end
This necessarily brief description is not to be regarded in any way as a catalogue of Japanese carpenters' tools, but is intended simply to describe those more commonly seen as one watches them at their work. The chief merit of many of these tools is that they can easily be made by the users; indeed, with the exception of the iron part, every Japanese carpenter can and often does make his own tools.
By an examination of old books and pictures one gets an idea of the antiquity of many objects still in use in Japan. I was shown, at the house of a Japanese antiquary, a copy of a very old
The
Nothing is more to be commended than the strong, durable, and sensible way in which the Japanese carpenter erects his staging. The various parts of a staging are never nailed together, as this would not only weaken the pieces through which spikes and nails have been driven, but gradually impair its integrity. All the pieces, upright and transverse, are firmly tied together with tough, strong rope. The rope is wound about, again and again, in the tightest possible manner. Buddhist temples of lofty proportions are reared and finished, and yet one never hears of the frightful accidents that so often occur at home as the results of stagings giving way in the erection of similar lofty structures. How exceedingly dull and stupid it must appear to a Japanese carpenter when he learns that his Christian brother constructs a staging that is liable, sooner or later, to precipitate him to the ground.
Writers on Japan have often commented upon the absence of any grand or imposing architectural edifices in that country; and they have offered in explanation, that in a country shaken by frequent earthquakes no stately structures or buildings of lofty proportions can endure. Nevertheless, many such structures do exist, and have existed for centuries,—as witness the old temples and lofty pagodas, and also the castles of the Daimios, notably the ones at Kumamoto and Nagoya. If the truth were known, it would be found that revolution and rebellion have been among the principal destructive agencies in nearly obliterating whatever may have once existed of grand architectural structures in Japan.
Aimé Humbert finds much to admire in the castles of the Daimios, and says, with truth: In general, richness of detail is less aimed at than the general effect resulting from the grandeur and harmony of the proportions of the buildings. In this respect some of the seigniorial residences of Japan deserve to figure among the architectural monuments of Eastern Asia.
In regard to the architecture of Japan, as to other matters, one must put himself in an attitude of sympathy with her people, or at least he must become awakened to a sympathetic appreciation of their work and the conditions under which it
In considering the temples of the Japanese, moreover, one should take into account their methods of worship, and precisely what use the worshippers make of these remarkable edifices. And so with intelligent sympathy finally aroused in all these matters, they begin to wear a new aspect; and what appeared grotesque and unmeaning before, now becomes full of significance and beauty. We see that there is something truly majestic in the appearance of the broad and massive temples, with the grand upward sweep of their heavily-tiled roofs and deep-shaded eaves, with intricate maze of supports and carvings beneath; the whole sustained on colossal round posts locked and tied together by equally massive timbers. Certainly, to a Japanese the effect must be inspiring beyond description; and the contrast between these structures and the tiny and perishable dwellings that surround them renders the former all the more grand and impressive. Foreigners, though familiar with the cathedral architecture of Europe, must
Whatever may be said regarding the architecture of Japan, the foreigner, at least, finds it difficult to recognize any distinct types of architecture among the houses, or to distinguish any radical differences in the various kinds of dwellings he sees in his travels through the country. It may be possible that these exist, for one soon gets to recognize the differences between the ancient and modern house. There are also marked differences between the compact house of the merchant in the city and the country house; but as for special types of architecture that would parallel the different styles found in our country, there are none. Everywhere one notices minor details of finish and ornament which he sees more fully developed in the temple architecture, and which is evidently derived from this source; and if it can be shown, as it unquestionably can, that these features were brought into the country by the priests who brought one of the two great religions, then we can trace many features of architectural detail to their home, and to the avenues through which they came.
In connection with the statement just made, that it is difficult to recognize any special types of architecture in Japanese dwellings, it may be interesting to mention that we found it impossible to get books in their language treating of house architecture. Doubtless books of this nature exist,—indeed, they must exist; but though the writer had a Japanese bookseller, and a number of intelligent friends among the Japanese, looking for such books, he never had the good fortune to
If there is no attempt at architectural display in the dwelling-houses of Japan the traveller is at least spared those miserable experiences he so often encounters in his own country, where to a few houses of good taste he is sure to pass hundreds of perforated wooden boxes with angular roofs and red chimneys unrelieved by a single moulding; and now and then to meet with one of those cupola-crowned, broad-brimmed, corinthian-columned abominations, as well as with other forms equally grotesque and equally offending good taste.
Owing to the former somewhat isolated life of the different provinces, the style of building in Japan varies considerably; and this is more particularly marked in the design of the roof and ridge. Though the Japanese are conservative in many things concerning the house, it is worthy of note that changes have taken place in the house architecture within two hundred and fifty years; at all events, houses of the olden times have much heavier beams in their frame and wider planks in their structure, than have the houses of more recent times.
The Japanese dwellings are always of wood, usually of one story and unpainted. Rarely does a house strike one as being specially marked or better looking than its neighbors; more substantial, certainly, some of them are, and yet there is a sameness about them which becomes wearisome. Particularly is this the case with the long, uninteresting row of houses that border a village street; their picturesque roofs alone save them from becoming monotonous. A closer study, however, reveals some marked differences between the country and city houses, as well as between those of different provinces.
The country house, if anything more than a shelter from the elements, is larger and more substantial than the city house, and with its ponderous thatched roof and elaborate ridge is always picturesque. One sees much larger houses in the north,—roofs of grand proportions and an amplitude of space beneath, that farther south occurs only under the roofs of temples. We speak now of the houses of the better classes, for the poor farm-laborer and fisherman, as well as their prototypes in the city, possess houses that are little better than shanties, built, as a friend has forcibly expressed it, of chips, paper, and straw.
But even these huts, clustered together as they oftentimes are in the larger cities, are palatial in contrast to the shattered and filthy condition of a like class of tenements in many of the cities of Christian countries.
In travelling through the country the absence of a middle class, as indicated by the dwellings, is painfully apparent. It is true that you pass, now and then, large comfortable houses with their broad thatched roofs, showing evidences of wealth and abundance in the numerous
Though the people that inhabit such shelters are very poor, they appear contented and cheerful notwithstanding their poverty. Other classes, who though not poverty-stricken are yet poor in every sense of the word, occupy dwellings of the simplest character. Many of the dwellings are often diminutive in size; and as one looks in at a tiny cottage containing two or three rooms at the most, the entire house hardly bigger than a good-sized room at home, and observes a family of three or four persons living quietly and in a cleanly manner in this limited space, he learns that in Japan, at least, poverty and constricted quarters are not always correlated with coarse manners, filth, and crime.
Country and city houses of the better class vary as greatly as with us,—the one with its ponderous thatched roof and smoke-blackened interior, the other with low roof neatly tiled, or shingled, and the perfection of cleanliness within.
In Tokio, the houses that abut directly on the street have a close and prison-like aspect. The walls are composed of boards or plaster, and perforated with one or two small windows lightly barred with bamboo, or heavily barred with square wood-gratings. The entrance to one of these houses is generally at one corner, or at the side. The back of the house and one side, at least, have a verandah. I speak now of the better class of houses in the city, but not of the best houses, which almost invariably stand back from the street and are surrounded by gardens.
The accompanying sketch (fig. 33) represents a group of houses bordering a street in Kanda Ku, Tokio. The windows are in some cases projecting or hanging bays, and are barred with bamboo or square bars of wood. A sliding-screen covered with stout white paper takes the place of our glass-windows. Through
The houses, if of wood, are painted black; or else, as is more usually the case, the wood is left in its natural state, and this gradually turns to a darker shade by exposure. When painted, a dead black is used; and this color is certainly agreeable to the eyes, though the heat-rays caused by this black surface become almost unendurable on hot days, and must add greatly to the heat and discomfort within the house. With a plastered outside wall the surface is often left white, while the frame-work of the building is painted black,—and this treatment gives it a decidedly funereal aspect.
In fig. 34 two other houses in the same street are shown, one having a two-storied addition in the rear. The entrance to this house is by means of a gate, which in the sketch is open. The farther house has the door on the street.
It is not often that the streets are bordered by such well-constructed ditches on the side, as is represented in the last two figures; in these cases the ditches are three or four feet wide, with well-built stone-walls and stone or wooden bridges spanning them at the doors and gateways. Through these ditches the water is running, and though vitiated by the water from the kitchen and baths is yet sufficiently pure to support quite a number of creatures, such as snails, frogs, and even fishes. In the older city dwellings of the poorer classes a number of tenements often occur in a block, and the entrance is by means of a gateway common to all.
Since the revolution of 1868 there has appeared a new style of building in Tokio, in which a continuous low of tenements
On the business streets similar rows of buildings are seen, though generally each shop is an independent building, abutting directly to the next; and in the case of all the smaller shops, and indeed of many of the larger ones, the dwelling and shop are one, the goods being displayed in the room on the street, while the family occupy the back rooms. While one is bartering at a shop, the whole front being open, he may often catch a glimpse of the family in the back room at dinner, and may look
The sketch shown in Fig. 36 is a city house of one of the better classes. The house stands on a new street, and the lot on one side is vacant; nevertheless, the house is surrounded on all sides by a high board-fence,—since, with the open character of a Japanese house, privacy, if desired, can be secured only by high
The verandah is quite spacious; and in line with the division between the rooms is a groove for the adjustment of a wooden screen or shutter when it is desired to separate the house into two portions temporarily. At the end of the verandah to the left of the sketch is the latrine. The house is quite open beneath, and the air has free circulation.
Another type of a Tokio house is shown in Fig. 38. This is a low, one-storied house, standing directly upon the street, its tiled roof cut up into curious gables. The entrance is protected by a barred sliding door. A large hanging bay-window is also barred. Just over the fence a bamboo curtain may be seen, which shades the verandah. The back of the house was open, and probably looked out on a pretty garden,—though this I did
From this example some idea may be got of the diminutive character of many of the Japanese dwellings, in which, nevertheless, families live in all cleanliness and comfort.
In the northern part of Japan houses are often seen which possess features suggestive of the picturesque architecture of
Switzerland,—the gable ends showing, in their exterior, massive timbers roughly hewn, with all the irregularities of the tree-trunk preserved, the interstices between these beams being filled with clay or plaster. The eaves are widely overhanging, with projecting rafters. Oftentimes delicately-carved wood is seen about the gable-ends and projecting balcony. As a still further suggestion of this resemblance, the main roof, if shingled, as well as the roof that shelters the verandah, is weighted with stones of various sizes to prevent its being blown away by the high
Fig. 39 gives a house of this description near Matsushima, in Rikuzen. An opening for the egress of smoke occurs on the side of the roof, in shape not unlike that of a round-topped dormer window. This opening in almost every instance is found on the gable end, directly beneath the angle formed at the peak of the roof.
Another house of this kind, seen in the same province, is shown in fig. 40. Here the smoke-outlet is on the ridge in the shape of an angular roof, with its ridge running at right angles to the main ridge; in this is a latticed window. This ventilator, as well as the main roof, is heavily thatched, while the supplementary ridge is of boards and weighted with stones. A good example of a heavily-tiled and plastered wooden fence is seen on the left of the sketch. In the road a number of laborers are shown in the act of moving a heavy block of stone.
Another house, shown in fig. 41, was seen on the road to Mororan, in Yezo. Here the smoke-outlet was in the form of a low supplementary structure on the ridge. The ridge itself was flat, and upon it grew a luxuriant mass of lilies. This roof was unusually large and capacious.
At the place where the river Kitakami empties into the Bay of Sendai, and where we left our boat in which we had
come down the river from Morioka, the houses were all of the olden-style,—a number of these presenting some good examples of projecting windows. Fig. 42 represents the front of a house in this place. This shows a large gable-roof, with broad overhanging eaves in front,—the ends of the rafters projecting to support the eaves and the transverse-beams of the gable ends being equally in sight. The projecting window, which might perhaps be called a bay, runs nearly the entire length of the gable. The panels in the frieze were of
The larger houses of this description are always inns. They usually abut directly upon the road, and have an open appearance and an air of hospitality about them which at once indicates their character. One encounters such places so frequently in Japan, that travelling in the interior is rendered a matter of ease and comfort as compared with similar experiences in neighboring countries. The larger number of these inns in the north are of one-story, though many may be seen that are two-storied. Very rarely does a three-storied building occur. Fig. 43 represents one of this nature, that was seen in a small village north of Sendai.
Houses of the better classes stand back from the road, and have bordering the road high and oftentimes ponderous ridged walls, with gateways of similar proportions and character, or fences of various kinds with rustic gateways. Long, low
In entering Morioka, at the head of navigation on the Kitakami River, the long street presents a remarkably pretty appearance, with its odd low-roofed houses (fig. 44), each standing with its end to the street,—the peak of the thatched roof overhanging the smoke-outlet like a hood. The street is bordered by a high, rustic, bamboo fence; and between the houses are little plats filled with bright-colored flowers, and shrubbery clustering within the fences, even sending its sprays into the footpath bordering the road.
The country house of an independent
The farm-house yard presented all the features of similar areas at home. A huge pile of wood cut for the winter's supply was piled up against the L. Basket-like coops, rakes, and the customary utensils of a farmer's occupation were scattered about. The sketch of this old house gives but a faint idea of the massive and top-heavy appearance of the roof, or of the large size of the building. The barred windows below, covered by a narrow tiled roof, were much later additions to the structure.
In the city houses of the better class much care is often taken to make the surroundings appear as rural as possible, by putting here and there quaint old wells, primitive and rustic arbors, fences, and gateways. The gateways receive special attention in this way, and the oddest of entrances are often seen in thickly-settled parts of large cities.
Houses with thatched roofs, belonging to the wealthiest classes, are frequently seen in the suburbs of Tokio and Kioto, and, strange as it may appear, even within the city proper. One might be led
The first view, then (fig. 46), is from the street, and represents a heavily-roofed gateway, with a smaller gateway at the side. The big gates had been removed, and the little gateway was permanently closed. This ponderous structure was flanked on one side by a low stretch of buildings, plastered on the outside, having small barred windows on the street, and a barred look-out commanding the gateway both outside and within. On the other side of the gateway was a high, thick wall, also furnished with a
Fig. 47 represents the appearance of this old house from just within the gateway. The barred window to the left of the sketch may be seen through the open gateway in fig. 46, and the tree which showed over the top of the gateway in that sketch is now in full view. The old house has a thatched roof with a remarkably steep pitch, surmounted by a ridge of tiles; a narrow tiled roof runs about the house directly below the eaves of the thatched roof. Suspended below this roof is seen a ladder and fire-engine, to be ready in case of emergency. The truth must be
The yard was well swept, and quite free from weeds, though at one side a number of shrubs and a banana tree were growing in a luxuriant tangle. A single tree, of considerable age, rose directly in a line with the entrance to the yard.
The house, like all such houses, had its uninteresting end toward the street; and here, attached to the house, was a lean-to,
or shed, with a small circular window. This was
In Fig. 48 a sketch of this house is given from the garden in the rear. The house is quite open behind, and looks out on the garden and fish-pond, which is seen in the foreground. The tiled roof which covers the verandah, and the out-buildings as well, was a subsequent addition to the old house. The sole occupants consisted of the mother and maiden sister of the famous antiquarian Ninagawa Noritani. The garden, with its shrubs, plats of flowers, stepping-stones leading to the fish-pond filled with lotus and lilies, and the bamboo trellis, is a good specimen of an old garden upon which but little care has been bestowed.
In the cities nothing is more surprising to a foreigner than to go from the dust and turmoil of a busy street directly into a rustic yard and the felicity of quiet country life. On one of the busy streets of Tokio I had often passed a low shop, the barred front of which was never opened to traffic, nor was there ever any one present with whom to deal. I used often to peer between the bars; and from the form of the wooden boxes on the step-like shelves within, I knew that the occupant was a dealer in old pottery. One day I called through the bars several times, and finally a man pushed back the screen in the rear of the shop and bade me come in by way of a narrow alley a little way up the street. This I did, and soon came to a gate that led me into one of the neatest and cleanest little gardens it is possible to imagine. The man was evidently just getting ready for a tea-party, and, as is customary in winter, the garden had been liberally strewn with pine-needles, which had then been neatly swept from the few paths and formed in thick mats around some of the shrubs and trees. The master had already accosted me from the verandah, and after bringing the customary
The verandah and a portion of this house as it appeared from the garden are given in fig. 49. At the end of the verandah is seen a narrow partition, made out of the planks of an old
In the house above mentioned a portion of a vessel's side or bottom had been used bodily for a screen at the end of the verandah,—for just beyond was the latrine, from the side of which is seen jutting another wing, consisting of a single weatherworn plank bordered by a bamboo-post. This was a screen to shut out the kitchen-yard beyond. Various stepping-stones of irregular shape, as well as blackened planks, were arranged around the yard in picturesque disorder. The sketch conveys, with more or less accuracy, one of the many phases of Japanese taste in these matters.
The wood-work from the rafters of the verandah roof above, to the planks below, was undefiled by oil, paint, wood-filling, or varnish of any kind. The carpentry was light, yet durable and thoroughly constructive; while outside and inside every feature was as neat and clean as a cabinet. The room bordering this verandah is shown in fig. 125.
Fig. 50 gives a view from the L of a gentleman's house in Tokio, from which was seen the houses and gardens of the neighborhood. The high and close fence borders a roadway which runs along the bank of the Sumida-gawa. A short fence of brush juts out obliquely from the latrine, and forms a screen
The inns, particularly the country inns, have a most cosey and comfortable air about them. One always has the freedom of the entire place; at least a foreigner generally makes himself at home everywhere about the public houses, and in this respect
On the ride across Yezo, from Otarunai to Mororan, one passes a number of inns of the most ample proportions; and their present deserted appearance contrasts strangely with their former grandeur, when the Daimio of the province, accompanied by swarms of
At Mishima, in the province of Suruga, a curious old inn was seen (fig. 51). The second story overhung the first story in front,
A group of houses in a village street is shown in fig. 52. The nearest house is a resting-place for travellers; the next is a candle-shop, where the traveller and
The country houses on the east coast of Kagoshima Gulf, in the province of Osumi, as well as in the province of Satsuma, have thatched roofs of ponderous proportions, while the walls supporting them are very low. These little villages along the
The fishermen's houses are oftentimes nothing more than the roughest shelters from the elements, and being more closed than the peasants' houses are consequently darker and dirtier. In the neighborhood of larger towns, where the fishermen are more prosperous, their houses compare favorably with those of the peasant class. Fig. 55 shows a group of fishermen's huts on the neck of sand which connects Hakodate with the main island. The high stockade fences act as barriers to the winds which blow so furiously across the bar at certain seasons. Fig. 56 represents a few fishermen's huts at Enoshima, a famous resort a little south of Yokohama. Here the houses are comparatively large and comfortable, though poor and dirty at best. The huge baskets seen in the sketch are used to hold and transport fish from the boat to the shore.
In the city no outbuildings, such as sheds and barns, are seen. Accompanying the houses of the better class are solid, thick-walled, fire-proof buildings called go-downs,
are usually two stories in height, and have one or two small
windows, and one door, closed by thick and ponderous shutters.
Such a building usually stands isolated from the dwelling, and
sometimes, though rarely, they are converted into domiciles. Of
such a character is the group of buildings in Tokio represented
in fig. 57, belonging
to a genial antiquary, in which he has
stored a rare collection of old books,
manuscripts, paintings, and other antique objects.
Fig. 58, copied
from a sketch made by Mr. S. Koyama, represents another group of these buildings in Tokio. These
It hardly comes within the province of this work to describe or figure buildings which are not strictly speaking homes; for this reason no reference will be made to the monotonous rows of buildings so common in Tokio, which form portions of the boundary-wall
The great elaboration and variety in the form and structure of the house-roof almost merit the dignity of a separate section. For it is mainly to the roof that the Japanese house owes its picturesque appearance; it is the roof which gives to the houses that novelty and variety which is so noticeable among them in different parts of the country. The lines of a well-made thatched roof are something quite remarkable in their proportions. A great deal of taste and skill is displayed in the proper trimming of the eaves; and the graceful way in which the
The elaborate structure of the thatched and tiled roofs, and the great variety in the design and structure of the ridges show what might be done by a Japanese architect if other portions of the house-exterior received an equal amount of ingenuity and attention.
Japanese roofs are either shingled, thatched, or tiled. In the country, tiled roofs are the exception, the roofs being almost exclusively thatched,—though in the smaller houses, especially in the larger country villages, the shingled and tiled roofs are often seen. In the larger towns and cities the houses are usually tiled; yet even here shingled roofs are not uncommon, and though cheaper than the tiled roofs, are by no means confined to the poorer houses. In the suburbs, and even in the outskirts of the cities, thatched roofs are common: in such cases the thatched roof indicates either the presence of what was at one time an old farm-house to which the city has extended, or else it is the house of a gentleman who prefers such a roof on account of its picturesqueness and the suggestions of rural life that go with it.
The usual form of the roof is generally that of a hip or gable. In the thatched roof, the portion coming directly below the ridge-pole is in the form of a gable, and this blends into a hip-roof. A curb-roof is never seen. Among the poorer classes a simple pent roof is common; and additions or attachments to the main building are generally covered with a pent roof. A light, narrow, supplementary roof is often seen projecting just below the eaves of the main roof; it is generally made of wide thin boards (fig. 60). This roof is called
In the ordinary shingled roof a light boarding is first nailed to the rafters, and upon this the shingles are secured in close courses. The shingles are always split, and are very thin,—being about the thickness of an ordinary octavo book-cover, and not much larger in size, and having the same thickness throughout. They come in square bunches (fig. 61, A), each bunch containing about two hundred and twenty shingles, and costing about forty cents.
Bamboo pins, resembling attenuated shoe-pegs, are used as shingle-nails. The shingler takes a mouthful of these pegs, and with quick motions works precisely and in the same rapid manner as a similar class of workmen do at home. The shingler's hammer is a curious implement (fig. 61, B, C). The iron portion is in the shape of a square block, with its roughened face nearly on a level with its handle. Near the end of the
That the shingles are not always held firmly to the roof by this method of shingling is seen in the fact that oftentimes long narrow strips of bamboo are nailed obliquely across the roof, from the ridge-pole to the eaves (fig. 63). These strips are placed at the distance of eighteen inches or two feet apart. Yet even in spite of this added precaution, in violent gales the roof is often rapidly denuded of its shingles, which fill the air at such times like autumn leaves.
Fig. 64, A, represents a portion of a shingled roof with courses of shingles partially laid, and a shingler's nail-box held to the roof. The box has two compartments,—the larger compartment holding the bamboo pegs; and the smaller containing iron nails, used for nailing down the boards and for other purposes.
There are other methods of shingling, in which the courses of shingles are laid very closely together, and also in many layers. Remarkable examples of this method may be seen in some of the temple roofs, and particularly in the roofs of certain temple gateways in Kioto, where layers of the thinnest shingles, forming a mass a foot or more in thickness, are compactly laid, with the many graceful contours of the roof delicately preserved. The edges of the roof are beautifully rounded, and the eaves squarely and accurately trimmed. On seeing one of these roofs
But little variety of treatment of the ridge is seen in a shingled roof. Two narrow weather-strips of wood nailed over the ridge answer the purpose of a joint, as is customary in our shingled roofs. A more thorough way is to nail thin strips of wood of a uniform length directly over the ridge and at right angles to it. These strips are thin enough to bend readily. Five or six layers are fastened in this way, and then, more firmly to secure them to the roof, two long narrow strips of wood or bamboo are nailed near the two edges of this mass, parallel to the ridge (fig. 65).
The shingled roof is the most dangerous element of house-structure in the cities. The shingles are nothing more than thick shavings, and curved and warped by the sun are ready to spring into a blaze by the contact of the first spark that falls upon them, and then to be sent flying by a high wind to scatter the fire for miles. A very stringent law should be passed, prohibiting the use of such material for roofing in cities and large villages.
The usual form of gutter for conveying water from the roof consists of a large bamboo split lengthwise, with the natural partitions broken away. This is held to the eaves by iron hooks, or by long pieces of wood nailed to the rafters,—their upper edges being notched, in which the bamboo rests. This leads to a conductor, consisting also of a bamboo, in which the natural partitions have likewise been broken through. The upper end of this bamboo is cut away in such a manner as to leave four long spurs; between these spurs a square and tapering tunnel of thin wood is forced,—the elasticity of the bamboo holding the tunnel in place (fig. 66).
Attention has so often been drawn, in books of travels, to the infinite variety of ways in which Eastern nations use the bamboo, that any reference to the subject here would be superfluous. I can only say that the importance of this wonderful plant in their domestic economy has never been exaggerated. The more one studies the ethnographical peculiarities of the Japanese, as displayed in their houses, utensils, and countless other fabrications, the more fully is he persuaded that they could more easily surrender the many devices and appliances adopted from European nations, than to abandon the ubiquitous bamboo.
In tiling a roof, the boarded roof is first roughly and thinly shingled, and upon this surface is then spread a thick layer of mud, into which the tiles are firmly bedded. The mud is scooped up from some ditch or moat, and is also got from the canals. In the city one often sees men getting the mud for this purpose from the deep gutters which border many of the streets. This is kneaded and worked with hoe and spade till it acquires the consistency of thick dough. In conveying this mass to the roof no hod is used. The material is worked into large lumps by the laborer, and these are tossed, one after another, to a man who stands on a staging or ladder, who in turn pitches it to the man on the roof, or, if the roof be high, to another man on a still higher staging. The mud having been got to the roof, is then spread over it in a thick and even layer. Into this the tiles are then bedded, row after row. There seems to be no special adhesion of the tiles to this substratum of mud, and high gales often cause great havoc to a roof of this nature. In the case of a conflagration, when it becomes necessary to tear down buildings in its path, the firemen appear to have no difficulty in shovelling the tiles off a roof with ease and rapidity.
The ridge-pole often presents an imposing combination of tiles and plaster piled up in square ridges and in many ornamental ways. In a hip-roof the four ridges are also made thick and ponderous by successive layers of tiles being built up, and forming great square ribs. In large fire-proof buildings the ridge may be carried up to a height of three or four feet. In such ridges white plaster is freely used, not only as a cement, but as a medium in which the artist works out various designs in high-relief. One of the most favorite subjects selected is that of dashing and foaming waves. A great deal of art and
skill is often displayed in the working out of this design,—which is generally very conventional, though at times great freedom of expression is shown in the work. It certainly seems an extraordinary design for the crest of a roof, though giving a very light and buoyant appearance to what would otherwise appear top-heavy. Fig. 67 is a very poor sketch of the appearance of this kind of a ridge. From the common occurrence of this design, it would seem as if some sentiment or superstition led to using this watery subject as suggesting a protection from fire; whether this be so or not, one may often notice at the end of the ridge in the thatched roofs in the country
The tiled ridges always terminate in a shouldered mass of tiles specially designed for the purpose. The smaller ribs of tiles that run down to the eaves, along the ridges in a hip-roof, or border the verge in a gable-roof, often terminate in some ornamental tile in high-relief. The design may be that of a
Many of the heavier ridges are deceptive, the main body consisting of a frame of wood plastered over, and having the appearance externally of being a solid mass of tile and plaster The tiles that border the eaves are specially designed for the purpose. The tile has the form of the ordinary tile, but its free edge is turned down at right angles and ornamented with some conventional design. Fig. 71 illustrates this form of tile. In the long panel a design of flowers or conventional scrolls in relief is often seen. The circular portion generally contains the crest of some family: the crest of the Tokugawa family is rarely seen on tiles (see fig. 73).
In the better class of tiled roof it is common to point off with white mortar the joints between the rows of tiles near the eaves, and also next the ridge; and oftentimes the entire roof is treated in this manner. In some photographs of Korean houses taken by Percival Lowell, Esq., the same method of closing the seams of the bordering rows of tiles with white plaster is shown.
The older a tile is, the better it is considered for roofing purposes. My attention was called to this fact by a friend stating to me with some pride that the tiles used in his house,
A tiled roof cannot be very expensive, as one finds it very common in the cities and larger villages. The price of good tiles for
roofing purposes is five
This is evidently the most ancient
form of tile in the East, and in
Japan is known by the name of
The most common form of tile used in Tokio is represented in fig. 71, called the
A new form of
tile, called the French
tile, has been introduced into Tokio within a few years
(fig. 75). It is not
in common use, however; and I can recall only a few buildings roofed with this tile. These are the warehouses of the
Other forms of tiles are made for special purposes. In the province of Iwami, for example, a roof-shaped tile is made specially for covering the ridge of thatched roofs (fig. 76, A). The true tile is also used for the same purpose (fig. 76, B).
In this province the tiles are glazed,—the common tiles being covered with a brown glaze, while the best tiles are glazed with iron sand. In digging the foundations for a library building at Uyeno Park, a number of large glazed tiles were dug up which were supposed to have been brought from the province of Bizen two hundred years ago. These were of the
In the province of Shimotsuke, and doubtless in adjacent provinces, stone
The thatched roof is by far the most common form of roof in Japan, outside the cities. The slopes of the roof vary but little; but in the design and structure of the ridge the greatest variety of treatment is seen. South of Tokio each province seems to have its own peculiar style of ridge; at least, as the observant traveller passes from one province to another his attention is attracted by a new form of ridge, which though occasionally seen in other provinces appears to be characteristic of that particular province. This is probably due to the partially isolated life of the provinces in feudal times; for the same may be said also in regard to the pottery and many other products of the provinces.
For thatching, various materials are employed. For the commonest thatching, straw is used; better kinds of thatch are made of a grass called
The thatch is formed in suitable masses, combed with the fingers and otherwise arranged so that the straws all point in the same direction. These masses are then secured to the rafters and bound down to the roof by bamboo poles (fig. 78, A), which are afterwards removed. While the thatch is bound down in this way it is beaten into place by a wooden mallet of peculiar shape (fig. 78, B). The thatch is then trimmed into shape by a pair of long-handled shears (fig. 78, C) similar to the shears used for trimming grass in our country.
This is only the barest outline of the process of thatching; there are doubtless many other processes which I did not see. Suffice it to say, however, that when a roof is finished it presents a clean, trim, and symmetrical appearance, which seems
In old roofs the thatch becomes densely filled with soot and
dust, and workmen engaged in repairing such roofs have the
appearance of coal-heavers. While a good deal of skill and
patience is required to thatch a roof evenly and properly, vastly
more skill must be required to finish the ridge, which is often
very intricate in its structure; and of these peculiar ridges there
In that portion of Japan lying north of Tokio the ridge is much more simple in its construction than are those found in the southern part of the Empire. The roofs are larger, but their ridges, with some exceptions, do not show the artistic features, or that variety in form and appearance, that one sees in the ridges of the southern thatched roof. In many cases the ridge is flat, and this area is made to support a luxuriant growth of
In some cases veritable ridge-poles, with their ends freely projecting beyond the gable and wrought in a gentle upward curve, are seen (fig. 39). This treatment of the free ends of beams in
ridge-poles, gateways, and other structures, notably in certain forms of
A structure of stone or wood, not unlike the naked frame-work of a gate, erected in front of shrines and temples.
At Fujita, in Iwaki, and other places in that region, a roof is often seen which shows the end of a round ridge-pole
A very neat and durable ridge (fig. 82) is common in Musashi and neighboring provinces. This ridge is widely rounded. It
When there is no window at the end of the roof for the egress of smoke, the roof comes under the class of hip-roofs. In the northern provinces the opening for the smoke is built in various ways upon the ridge or side of the roof. By referring to figs. 39, 40, 41, various methods of providing for this window may be seen.
Smoke-outlets do occur at the ends of the roof in the north, as may be seen by referring to fig. 44. The triangular opening for the outlet of smoke is a characteristic feature of the thatched
Great attention is given to the proper and symmetrical trimming of the thatch at the eaves and at the edges of the gable. By referring to figs. 83 and 84 some idea may be got of the clever way in which this is managed. Oftentimes, at the peak of the gable, a cone-like enlargement with a circular depression is curiously shaped out of the thatch (fig. 84). A good deal of skill is also shown in bringing the thick edges of the eaves, which are on different levels, together in graceful curves. An example of this kind may be seen in fig. 39.
In Musashi a not uncommon form of ridge is seen, in which there is an external ridge-pole wrought like the upper transverse beam of a
Modifications of this form of ridge occur in a number of southern provinces, and ridges very similar to this I saw in Saigon and Cholon, in Anam. The curious Shin-tō temple, at Kamijiyama, in Ise, said to be modelled after very ancient types of roof, has the end-rafters of the gable continuing through the roof and
beyond the peak to a considerable distance. It was interesting to see precisely the same features in some of the Malay houses in the neighborhood of Singapore. In Musashi, and farther south, a ridge is seen of very complex structure,—the entire ridge forming a kind of supplementary roof, its edges thick and squarely trimmed, and presenting the appearance of a smaller roof having been made independently and dropped upon the large roof like a saddle. This style of roof, with many modifications, is very common in Yamashiro, Mikawa, and neighboring provinces. A very elaborate roof of this description is shown in
A very simple form of ridge is common in the province of Omi; this is made of thin pieces of board, three feet or more in length, secured on each slope of the roof and at right angles to the ridge; and these are bound down by long strips of wood, two
resting across the ridge, and another strip resting on the lower edge of the boards (fig. 86). In the provinces of Omi and Owari tiled ridges are often seen, and some ridges in which wood and tile are combined. At Takatsuki-mura, in Setsu, a curious ridge prevails. The ridge is very steep, and is covered by a close mat of bamboo, with saddles of tiles placed at intervals along the ridge (fig. 87). A very picturesque form of ridge occurs in the province of Mikawa; the roof is a hip-roof, with the ridge-roof having a steep slope trimmed off squarely at the eaves. On this portion strips of brown bark are placed across the ridge, resting on the slopes of the roof; a number of bamboos rest on the bark, parallel to the ridge; on the top of these, stout, semi-cylindrical saddles, sometimes sheathed with bark, rest across the ridge, with
Roofs of a somewhat similar construction may be seen in other provinces. In the suburbs of Kioto a form of roof and ridge, after a similar design, may be often seen. In this form the supplementary roof is more sharply defined; the corners of it are slightly turned up as in the temple-roof. To be more definite, the main roof, which is a hip-roof, has built upon it a low upper-roof, which is a gable; and upon this rests, like a separate structure, a continuous saddle of thatch, having upon its back a few bamboos running longitudinally,
Another form of Mikawa roof, very simple and plain in structure, is shown in fig. 90. Here the ridge-roof is covered with a continuous sheathing of large bamboos, with rafter-poles at the ends coming through the thatch and projecting beyond the peak.
In the provinces of Kii and Yamato the forms of ridges
The smoke-outlet is a small triangular opening (fig. 91). In
the province of Yamato there are two forms of roof very common.
In one of these the roof is a gable, the end-walls, plastered
with clay and chopped straw, projecting above the roof a foot or more, and capped with a simple row of tiles (fig. 92),—the ridge in this roof being made as in the last one described. In another form of roof with a similar ridge, the thatch on the
In the provinces of Totomi and Suruga a form of ridge was observed, unlike any encountered elsewhere in Japan. The
ridge-roof was large and sharply angular. Resting upon the thatch, from the ridge-pole half way down to the main roof, were bamboos placed side by side, parallel to the ridge. Upon this layer of bamboos were wide saddles of bark a foot or more in length, with an interspace of nearly two feet between each saddle, these reaching down to the main roof. On each side of the ridge-roof, and running parallel to the ridge, were large bamboo poles resting on the saddles, and bound down firmly with cords. On the sharp crest of the roof rested a long round ridge-pole. This pole was kept in place by wide
In the province of Ise a simple type of roof was seen (fig. 94). The ridge-roof was quite low, sheathed with bark and bound down with a number of bamboos. At the gable were round masses of thatch covered with bark, which formed an ornamental moulding at the verge.
We have characterized as a ridge-roof that portion which has truncate ends,—in other words, the form of a gable,—and which receives special methods of treatment. The line of demarcation between the long reach of thatch of the roof proper and the ridge-roof is very distinct.
In the province of Osumi, on the eastern side of Kagoshima Gulf, the vertical walls of the buildings are very low; but these support thatched roofs of ponderous proportions. These roofs
There are doubtless many other forms of thatched roof, but it is believed that the examples given present the leading types.
As one becomes familiar with the picturesqueness and diversity in the Japanese roof and ridge, he wonders why the architects of our own country have not seen fit to extend their taste and ingenuity to the roof, as well as to the sides of the house. There is no reason why the ridge of an ordinary wooden house should invariably be composed of two narrow weather-strips, or why the roof itself should always be stiff, straight, and angular. Certainly our rigorous climate can be no excuse for this, for on the upper St. John, and in the northern part of Maine, one sees the wooden houses of the French Canadians having roofs widely projecting, with the eaves gracefully turning upward, presenting a much prettier appearance than does the stiff angular roof of the New England house.
It is indeed a matter of wonder that some one in building a house in this country does not revert to a thatched roof. Our architectural history shows an infinite number of reversions, and if a thatched roof were again brought into vogue, a new charm would be added to our landscape. The thatched roof is picturesque and warm, and makes a good rain-shed. In Japan an
It is customary in the better class of houses having thatched roofs to pave the ground with small cobble-stones, for a breadth of two feet or more immediately below the eaves, to catch the drip, as in a thatched roof it is difficult to adjust any sort of a gutter or water-conductor. Fig. 95 illustrates the appearance of the paved space about a house, the roof of which is shown in fig. 85. It is customary in the better class of houses having thatched roofs to pave the ground with small cobble-stones, for a breadth of two feet or more immediately below the eaves, to catch the drip, as in a thatched roof it is difficult to adjust any sort of a gutter or water-conductor. Fig. 95 illustrates the appearance of the paved space about a house, the roof of which is shown in fig. 85.
The translation of the terms applied to many parts of the house is quite curious and interesting. The word
In Japan the roof of a house is called
In Korea the foundation of a house is called the foot of the house, and the foundation stones are called shoe-stones.
The Japanese word for ceiling is heaven's well.
It is an interesting fact that the root of both words,
heaven.
The interior of a Japanese house is so simple in its construction, and so unlike anything to which we are accustomed in the arrangement of details of interiors in this country, that it is difficult to find terms of comparison in attempting to describe it. Indeed, without the assistance of sketches it would be almost impossible to give a clear idea of the general appearance, and more especially the details, of Japanese house-interiors. We shall therefore mainly rely on the various figures, with such aid as description may render.
The first thing that impresses one on entering a Japanese house is the small size and low stud of the rooms. The ceilings are so low that in many cases one can easily touch them, and in going from one room to another one is apt to strike his head against the
In my remarks on Japanese house-construction, in Chapter I., allusion was made to the movable partitions dividing the rooms, consisting of light frames of wood covered with paper. These are nearly six feet in height, and about three feet in width. The frame-work of a house, as we have already said, is arranged with special reference to the sliding screens, as well as to the number of mats which are to cover the floor. In each corner of the room is a square post, and within eighteen inches or two feet of the ceiling cross-beams ran from post to post. These cross-beams have grooves on their under side in which the screens are to run. Not only are most of the partitions between the rooms made up of sliding screens, but a large portion of the exterior partitions as well are composed of these light and adjustable devices. A house may have a suite of three or four rooms in a line, and the outside partitions be made up entirely of these movable screens and the necessary posts to support the roof,—these posts coming in the corners of the rooms and marking the divisions between the rooms. The outer screens are covered with white paper, and when closed, a subdued and diffused light enters the room. They may be quickly removed, leaving the entire front of the house open to the air and sunshine. The screens between
The almost entire absence of swinging doors is at once noticeable, though now and then one sees them in other portions of the house. The absence of all paint, varnish, oil, or filling, which, too often defaces our rooms at home, is at once remarked; and the ridiculous absurdity of covering a good grained wood-surface with paint, and then with brush and comb trying to imitate Nature by scratching in a series of lines, the Japanese are never guilty of. On the contrary, the wood is left in just the condition in which it leaves the cabinet-maker's plane, with a simple surface, smooth but not polished,—though polished surfaces occur, however, which will be referred to in the proper place. Oftentimes in some of the parts the original surface of the wood is left, sometimes with the bark retained. Whenever the Japanese workman can leave a bit of Nature in this way he is delighted to do so. He is sure to avail himself of all curious features in wood: it may be the effect of some fungoid growth which marks a bamboo curiously; or the sinuous tracks produced by the larvae of some beetle that oftentimes traces the surface of wood, just below the bark, with curious designs; or a knot or burl. His eye never misses these features in finishing a room.
The floors are often roughly made, for the reason that straw mats, two or three inches in thickness, cover them completely. In our remarks on house-construction, allusion has already been made to the dimensions of these mats.
Before proceeding further into the details of the rooms, it will be well to examine the plans of a few dwellings copied directly from the architect's drawings. The first plan given (fig. 97) is that of a house built in Tokio a few years ago, in which the writer has spent many pleasant hours. The main house measures
The absence of all barns, wood-sheds, and other out-houses is particularly noticeable, and as the house has no cellar, one wonders where the fuel is stowed. In certain areas of the kitchen
In this house the dining-room and library are six-mat rooms, the parlor is an eight-mat room, and the sitting-room a four and one-half mat room; that is, the floor of each room accommodates the number of mats mentioned. The last three named rooms are bordered by the verandah.
The expense of this house complete was about one thousand dollars. The land upon which it stood contained about 10,800 square feet, and was valued at three hundred and thirty dollars. Upon this the Government demanded a tax of five dollars. The house furnished with these mats, requires little else with which to begin house-keeping.
A comfortable house, fit for the habitation of a family of four or five, may be built for a far less sum of money, and the fewness and cheapness of the articles necessary to furnish it surpass belief. In mentioning such a modest house and furnishing, the reader must not imagine that the family are constrained for want of room, or stinted in the necessary furniture; on the contrary, they are enabled to live in the most comfortable manner. Their wants are few, and their tastes are simple and refined. They live without the slightest ostentation; no false display leads them into criminal debt. The monstrous bills for carpets, curtains, furniture, silver, dishes, etc., often entailed upon young house-keepers at home in any attempt at
Simple as the house just given appears to be, there is quite as much variety in the arrangement of their rooms as with us. There are cheap types of houses in Japan, as in our country, where room follows room in a certain sequence; but the slightest attention to these matters will not only show great variety in their plans, but equally great variety in the ornamental finishing of their apartments.
The plan shown in fig. 98 is that of the house represented in figs. 36 and 37. The details are figured as in the previous plan. This house has on the ground-floor seven rooms besides the kitchen, hall, and bath-room. The kitchen and bath-room are indicated, as in the former plan, by their floors being ruled in wide parallel lines,—the lines running obliquely, as in the former case, indicating the bath-room or wash-rooms.
The owner of this house has often welcomed me to its soft mats and quiet atmosphere, and in the enjoyment of them I have often wondered as to the impressions one would get if he could be suddenly transferred from his own home to this unpretentious house, with its quaint and pleasant surroundings. The general nakedness, or rather emptiness, of the apartments would be the first thing noticed; then gradually the perfect harmony of the tinted walls with the wood finish would be observed. The orderly adjusted screens, with their curious free-hand ink-drawings, or conventional designs on the paper of so subdued and intangible a character that special attention must be directed to them to perceive their nature; the clean and comfortable mats everywhere smoothly covering the floor; the natural woods composing the ceiling and the structural finishing of the room everywhere apparent; the customary recesses with their cupboard and shelves, and the room-wide lintel with its elaborate lattice or carving
I noticed that a peculiarly agreeable odor of the
wood used in the structure of this house seemed to fill the air of the
rooms with a a delicate perfume;
An odor which at home we recognize as Japanesy,
arising from the wood-boxes in which Japanese articles are packed.
If a foreigner is not satisfied with the severe simplicity, and what might at first strike him as a meagreness, in the appointments of a Japanese house, and is nevertheless a man of taste, he is compelled to admit that its paucity of furniture and carpets spares one the misery of certain painful feelings that incongruities always produce. He recalls with satisfaction certain works on household art, in which it is maintained that a table with carved cherubs beneath, against whose absurd contours one knocks his legs, is an abomination; and that carpets which have depicted upon them winged angels, lions, or tigers,—or, worse still, a simpering and reddened maiden being made love to by an equally ruddy shepherd,—are hardly the proper surfaces to tread upon with comfort, though one may take a certain grim delight in wiping his soiled boots upon them. In the Japanese house the traveller is at least not exasperated with such a medley of dreadful things; he is certainly spared the pains that civilized
styles of appointing and furnishing often produce. Mr. Lowell truthfully remarks on the waste, and aimlessness of our American luxury, which is an abject enslavement to tawdry upholstery.
We are digressing, however. In the plan referred to, an idea of the size of the rooms may be formed by observing the
In the plan (fig. 97)
In the manner of building, one recognizes the propriety of constructive art as being in better taste; and in a Japanese house one sees this principle carried out to perfection. The ceiling of boards, the corner posts and middle posts and transverse ties are in plain sight. The corner posts which support the roof play their part as a decorative feature, as they pass stoutly upward from the ground beneath. A fringe of rafters rib the lower surface of the wide overhanging eaves, and these in turn rest firmly on an unhewn beam which runs as a girder from one side of the verandah to the other. The house is simply charming in all its appointments, and as a summer-house during the many long hot months it is incomparable. In the raw and rainy days of winter, however, it is not so pleasant, at least to a foreigner,—though I question whether to a Japanese it is more unpleasant than the ordinary houses at home are with us, with some of the apartments hot and stifling, and things cracking with the furnace heat, while other parts are splitting with the cold; with gas from the furnace, and chimneys that often refuse to draw, and an impalpable though tangible soot and coal-dust settling on every object, and many other
The differences between the houses of the nobles and the
The accompanying plan of a Daimio's house (fig. 99)
The following is a brief explanation of the names of the rooms given in plan fig. 99: to go up;
place
), Platform, or place to stand on in coming out of the Bath. adorning the face with powder
). push,
put in
); to cross over;
The punctilious way in which guests or official callers were received by the Daimio is indicated by a curious modification
In this plan the close parallel lines indicate the verandahs; the thick lines, permanent partitions; and the small black squares, the upright posts. The lines of
A more minute description of the mats may be given at this point. A brief allusion has already been made to them in the
The making of mats is quite a separate trade from that of making the straw-matting with which they are covered. The mat-maker may often be seen at work in front of his door, crouching down to a low frame upon which the mat rests.
As we have before remarked, the architect invariably plans his rooms to accommodate a certain number of mats; and since these mats have a definite size, any indication on the plan of the number of mats a room is to contain gives at once its dimensions also. The mats are laid in the following numbers,—two, three, four and one-half, six, eight, ten, twelve, fourteen, sixteen, and so on. In the two-mat room the mats are laid side by side. In the three-mat room the mats may be laid side by side, or two mats in one way and the third mat crosswise at the end. In the four and one-half mat room the mats are laid with the half-mat in one corner. The six and eight mat rooms are the most common-sized rooms; and this gives some
In adjusting mats to the floor, the corners of four mats are never allowed to come together, but are arranged so that the corners of two mats abut against the side of a third. They are supposed to be arranged in the direction of a closely-wound spiral (see dotted line in fig. 101). The edges of the longer sides of the ordinary mats are bound with a narrow strip of black linen, as before remarked. In the houses of the nobles this border strip has figures worked into it in black and white, as may be seen by reference to Japanese illustrated books showing interiors. These mats fit tightly, and the floor upon which they rest, never being in sight, is generally made of rough boards with open joints. The mat, as you step upon it, yields slightly
to the pressure of the foot; and old mats get to be slightly uneven and somewhat hard from continual use. From the nature of this soft-matted floor shoes are never worn upon it,—the Japanese invariably leaving their wooden clogs outside the house, either on the stepping-stones or on the earth-floor at the entrance. The wearing of one's shoes in the house is one of the many coarse and rude ways in which a foreigner is likely to offend these people. The hard heels of a boot or
Upon these mats the people eat,
sleep, and die; they represent the
bed, chair, lounge, and sometimes
table, combined. In resting upon
them the Japanese assume a kneeling position,—the legs turned beneath, and the haunches resting
upon the calves of the legs and the
inner sides of the heels; the toes
turned in so that the upper
and outer part of the instep bears
directly on the mats. Fig. 102 represents a woman in the attitude of sitting. In old people one
often notices a callosity on that part of the foot which comes in
contact with the mat, and but for a knowledge of the customs
of the people in this matter might well wonder how such a
hardening of the flesh could occur in such an odd place. This
position is so painful to a foreigner that it is only with a great
deal of practice he can become accustomed to it. Even the
Japanese who have been abroad for several years find it
At meal-times the food is served in lacquer and porcelain dishes on lacquer trays, placed upon the floor in front of the kneeling family; and in this position the repast is taken.
At night a heavily wadded comforter is placed upon the floor; another equally thick is provided for a blanket, a pillow of diminutive proportions for a head-support,—and the bed is made. In the morning these articles are stowed away in a large closet. Further reference will be made to bedding in the proper place.
A good quality of mats can be made for one dollar and a half a-piece; though they sometimes cost three or four dollars, and even a higher price. The poorest mats cost from sixty to eighty cents a-piece. The matting for the entire house represented in plan fig. 97 cost fifty-two dollars and fifty cents.
Reference has already been made to the sliding screens, and as they form so important and distinct a feature in the Japanese house, a more special description of them is necessary. In our American houses a lintel is the horizontal beam placed over the door; this is cased with wood, and has a jamb or recess corresponding to the vertical recesses into which the door shuts. For the sake of clearness, we may imagine a lintel running entirely across the room from one corner to the other, and this is the
There are two forms of these sliding screens,—the one kind, called
The China-paper.
The frame is not unlike the frame used for the outside screens, consisting of thin vertical and horizontal strips of wood forming a grating, with the meshes four or five inches in width, and two inches in height. The outside frame or border is usually left plain, as is the case with most of their wood-work. It is not uncommon, however, to see these frames lacquered. The material used for covering them consists of a stout, thick, and durable paper; and this is often richly decorated. Sometimes a continuous scene will stretch like a panorama across the whole side of a room. The old castles contain some celebrated paintings on these
While the
Oftentimes a narrow permanent partition occurs in which is an opening,—the width of one
Conveniences for pushing back the Tategu Hinagata.
The outside screens, or
Sometimes little holes or rents are accidentally made in this paper-covering of the
There are innumerable designs employed in the
It has been necessary to anticipate the special description of the details of a room in so far as a description of the mats and
screens were concerned, since a general idea of the interior
The room shown in fig. 96 gives a fair idea of the appearance of the guest-room with its two bays or recesses, the
See chapter viii. for further considerations regarding the matter.
bed-space.
This recess, or at least its raised platform, is supposed to have been anciently used for the bed-place.
Let us pause for a moment to consider the peculiar features of this room. The partition separating the two recesses has for its post a stick of timber, from which the bark only has been removed; and this post, or
Spanning the
The partition dividing these two recesses often has an ornamental opening, either in the form of a small window barred with bamboo, or left open; or this opening may be near the floor, with its border made of a curved stick of wood, as in the figure we are now describing.
In the
This room illustrates very clearly a peculiar feature in Japanese decoration,—that of avoiding, as far as possible, bi-lateral symmetry. Here are two rooms of the same size and shape, the only difference consisting in the farther room having two recesses, while the room nearer has a large closet closed by sliding screens. It will be observed, however, that in the farther room the narrow strips of wood, upon which the boards of the ceiling rest, run parallel to the
How different has been the treatment of similar features in the finish of American rooms! Everywhere in our apartments, halls, school-houses, inside and out, a monotonous bi-lateral symmetry is elaborated to the minutest particular, even to bracket and notch in pairs. The fireplace is in the middle of the room, the mantel, and all the work about this opening, duplicated with painful accuracy on each side of a median line; every ornament on the mantel-shelf is in pairs, and these are arranged in the same way; a single object, like a French clock, is adjusted in the dead centre of this shelf, so that each half of the mantel shall get its half of a clock; a pair of andirons below, and portraits of ancestral progenitors on each side above keep up this intolerable monotony; and opposite, two windows with draped curtains parted right and left, and a symmetrical table or cabinet between the two, are in rigid adherence to this senseless scheme. And outside the monotony is still more dreadful, even to the fences, carriage-way and flower-beds; indeed, false windows are introduced in adherence to this inane persistency in traditional methods. Within ten years some progress has been made among the better class of American houses in breaking away from this false and tiresome idea, and our houses look all the prettier for these changes. In decoration, as well, we have made great strides in the same direction, thanks to the influence of Japanese methods.
While the general description just given of the
This recess has a variety of names, according to the form and arrangement of the shelves. It is usually called different,
and shelf,
as the shelves are arranged alternately. It is also called thin mist-shelf,
—the shelves in this case being arranged in a way in which they often conventionally represent mist or clouds, as shown in their formal designs of these objects (fig. 118), in which the upper outline shows the form of shelf, and the lower outline the conventional drawing of cloud. When only one shelf is seen it may be called
Resuming our description of interiors, a peculiar form of room is shown in the house of a gentleman of high rank (fig. 119).
Here the
The depth of the
In a spacious hall in Tokio is a
Severe and simple as a Japanese room appears to be, it may be seen by this figure how many features for decorative display come in. The ornamental openings or windows with their varied lattices, the sliding screens and the cupboards with their rich sketches of landscapes and trees, the natural woods, indeed many of these features might plainly be adopted without modification for our rooms.
In another room (fig. 121) of a gentleman famous for his invention of silk-reeling machinery the Daiku Tana Hinagata,
Vol. II. Those who have chanced to see the club rooms of the Koyokuan will recall the elaborate and beautiful panel of geometric work that fills the window of a recess of this nature.
In Fig. 123 the
In the next figure (fig. 124) we have the sketch of a small room with the
In fig. 125 is shown a room of the plainest description; it was severe in its simplicity. Here the
The next figure (fig. 126) is that of a room in the second story of the house of a famous potter in Kioto. This room
Fig. 127 represents a room in the second story of a house in Tokio. The recesses were remarkably rich and effective. The entire end of the room formed a recess, having a plaited ceiling; and within this recess were the
The next interior (fig. 128) represents a room in a country house of the poorer class. The recesses were of the plainest description. The
The figures of interiors thus far given present some idea of the infinite variety of design seen in the two recesses which characterize the best room in the house. The typical form
having been shown in
fig. 96, it will be seen
how far these bays
may vary in form and
structure while still
possessing the distinguishing features of
the
The arrangement of the cross-ties in relation to the
In houses of two stories greater latitude is shown in the arrangement of these recesses. They may come opposite the balcony, and the
Thus far we have examined the room which would parallel our drawing-room or parlor; the other rooms vary from this in being smaller, and having, of course, no recesses such as have been described. By an examination of the plans given in the first part of this chapter, it will be seen how very simple many of the rooms are,—sometimes having a recess for a case of drawers or shelves; a closet, possibly, but nothing else to break the rectangular outline, which may be bounded on all sides by the sliding
Another class of rooms may here be considered, the details of which are more severely simple even than those of the rooms just described. These apartments are constructed expressly for ceremonial tea-parties. A volume might be filled with a description of the various forms of buildings connected with these observances; and indeed another volume might be filled with the minor details associated with their different schools.
In brief, the party comes about by the host inviting a company of four to attend the tea-ceremony, and in their presence making the tea in a bowl after certain prescribed forms, and offering it to the guests. To be more explicit as to the mode of conducting this ceremony,—the tea is first prepared by grinding it to a fine, almost impalpable, powder. This may be done by a servant before the assemblage of the guests, or may be ordered ground from a tea shop; indeed, the host may grind it himself. This material, always freshly ground for each party, is usually kept in a little earthen jar, having an ivory cover,—the
The making of the tea, watched by one knowing nothing about the ceremony, seems as grotesque a performance as one can well imagine. Many of the forms connected with it seem uselessly absurd; and yet having taken many lessons in the art of tea-making, I found that with few exceptions it was natural
This very brief and imperfect allusion has been made in order to explain, that so highly do the Japanese regard this ceremony that little isolated houses are specially constructed for the express purpose of entertaining tea-parties. If no house is allotted for the purpose, then a special room is fitted for it. Many books are devoted to the exposition of the different schools of tea-ceremonies, illustrated with diagrams showing the various ways of placing the utensils, plans of the tea-rooms, and all the details involved in the observances.
The tea-ceremonies have had a profound influence on many Japanese arts. Particularly have they affected the pottery of Japan; for the rigid simplicity, approaching an affected roughness and poverty, which characterizes the tea-room and many of the utensils used in the ceremony, has left its impress upon many forms of pottery. It has also had an influence on even the few rustic and simple adornments allowed in the room, and has held its sway over the gardens, gateways, and fences surrounding the house. Indeed, it has had an effect on the Japanese almost equal to that of Calvinistic doctrines on the early Puritans. The one suppressed the exuberance of an
Among the Hills
:—
bookless, pictureless, Save the inevitable sampler hung Over the fireplace; or a mourning-piece,— A green-haired woman, peony-cheeked, beneath Impossible willows; the wide-throated hearth Bristling with faded pine-boughs, half concealing The piled-up rubbish at the chimney's back.
But we are digressing. Having given some idea of the formal character of the tea-ceremonies, it is not to be wondered at that special rooms, and even special buildings, should be designed and built expressly for those observances. We give a few illustrations of the interiors of rooms used for this purpose.
Fig. 130 is that of a room in Nan-en-ji temple, in Kioto, said to have been specially designed, in the early part of the seventeenth
century, by Kobori Yenshiu,—a famous master of tea-ceremonies, and a founder of one of its schools. The room was exceedingly small, a four and a half mat room I believe, which is the usual size. The drawing, from necessity of perspective, makes it appear much larger. The ceiling was of rush and bamboo; the walls were roughly plastered with bluish-gray clay; the cross-ties and uprights were of pine, with the bark retained. The room had eight small windows of various sizes, placed at various
Fig. 131 represents an odd-looking tearoom, at the Fujimi pottery, in Nagoya, where tea was made and served to us by the potter's daughter. The room was simple enough, yet quite ornate compared with the one
first described. The ceiling consisted of a matting of thin wood-strips, bamboo and red pine being used for the cross-ties and uprights. The
In fig. 132 is represented a view of a small tea-room at Miyajima; the chasteness of its finish is but feebly conveyed in the figure. Here the
In some houses there is a special place or room adjoining the tea-room, in which the tea-utensils are kept properly arranged, and from which they are brought when tea is made, and to which
they are afterwards returned with great formality. Fig. 133 represents one of these rooms in a house in Imado, Tokio. In this room the same simplicity of finish was seen. It was furnished
In fig. 134 is given the view of a room in a Tokio house that was extremely ornate in its finish. The owner of the house had built it some thirty years before, and had intended carrying out Chinese ideas of design and furnishing. Whether he had got his ideas from books, or had evolved them from his inner consciousness, I do not know; certain it is, that although he had worked into its structure a number of features actually
The second stories of shops are often used as living rooms. Fig. 136 represents a room of this nature in a shop in Kawagoye, in Musashi, nearly three hundred years old. Two long, low windows, opening on the street, were deeply recessed and heavily barred; above these openings were low deep cupboards, closed by long sliding doors. The room was dusty and unused, but I could not help noticing in this old building, as in the old buildings at home, the heavy character of the framework where it appeared in sight.
Reference has been made to the fact that
For the fitting up of such a room, to adapt it for a living-place, a light frame-work of bamboo is constructed, which stands away from the walls at a distance of two or three feet; upon this, cloth is stretched like a curtain. The frame-work forms a ceiling as well, so that the rough walls and beams of the floor above are concealed by this device. At one side the cloth is arranged to be looped up like a curtain, so that one may pass outside the drapery.
The owner of this apartment was an eminent antiquarian, and the walls of the room were lined with shelves and cases which were filled with old books and pictures, rare scrolls, and bric-a-brac. A loft above, to which access was gained by a perilous flight of steps, was filled with ancient relics of all kinds,—stone implements, old pottery, quaint writing-desks, and rare manuscripts. The cloth which formed this supplementary partition was of a light, thin texture; and when the owner went in search of some object on the other side of it, I could trace him by his candle-light
That the rooms of
In connection with this room, and the manner of looping up the curtains at the side, I got from this scholar the first rational explanation of the meaning of the two narrow bands which hang down from the upper part of the usual form of a Japanese
wind-bands.
This is the explanation given me; but it is quite probable that large pictures hanging against the walls, when disturbed by the wind, were tied up by these bands.
While the
The ponderous doors of the
Oftentimes the outside of the
In fig. 139 (see page 162) the
The doors of the
The upper room of the
In my remarks on house-construction, reference was made to the ceiling and the way in which it is made and held in place, the form of ceiling there described being the almost universal one throughout the country. The Japanese word for ceiling is heaven's well.
In selecting wood for the ceiling, great care is taken to secure boards in which the grain is perfectly even and regular, with no signs of knots. A wood much prized for the ceiling, as well as for other interior finish, is a kind of cedar dug up from swamps in Hakone, and other places in Japan. It is of a rich, warm gray or brown color; and oftentimes planks of enormous thickness are secured for this purpose. This wood is called cedar of God's age.
A wood called
It is rare to see a ceiling differing from the conventional form, consisting of light, thin, square strips as ceiling-beams, upon which rest crosswise thin planks of wood with their edges overlapping. One sees this form of ceiling everywhere, from north to south, in inns, private dwellings, and shops. This form is as universal in Japan as is the ordinary white plaster-ceiling with us. In many other forms of ceiling, however, wood of the most tortuous grain is preferred.
In the little houses made for the tea-parties the ceiling is often of some rustic design,—either a layer of rush resting on bamboo rafters, or thin, wide strips of wood braided or matted like basket-work.
Sometimes the ceiling instead of being flat is arching; that is, the sides run up like a roof, and meet above in a flat panel, or the ceiling may be made up of panels either square or angular.
A very elaborate and beautiful ceiling is seen in fig. 127 (see page 146). The structure is supposed to be in imitation of country thatched roof. The centre panel consists of a huge plank of cedar, the irregular grain cut out in such a way as to show the lines in high-relief, giving it the appearance of very old wood, in which the softer lines have been worn away. The round sticks which form the frame for the plank, and those bordering the ceiling, as well as those running from the corners of the ceiling to the corners of the plank, are of red pine with the bark unremoved. The radiating rafters are of large yellow bamboo, while the smaller beams running parallel to the sides of the room consist of small dark-brown and polished bamboo; the body of the ceiling is made up of a brown rush, called
The ceiling figured on page 156 (fig. 134) consisted of square panels of cedar, arranged on either side of a double curved bamboo, which ran across the ceiling diagonally from one corner of the room to another. Upon the bamboo was engraved a Chinese poem, in beautiful characters. The beauty of this ceiling consisted not only in its general quaint effect, but in the rich woods and good workmanship everywhere displayed in its construction. The same might be said of the ceiling shown in fig. 126 (see page 145); here, indeed, the whole room was like
It seems a little curious that the space enclosed under the roof (a garret in fact) is rarely, if ever, utilized. Here the rats hold high carnival at night; and one finds it difficult to sleep, on account of the racket these pests keep up in racing and fighting upon the thin and resonant boards composing the ceiling. The rats make a thoroughfare of the beam which runs across the end of the house from one corner to the other; and this beam is called the rat-post.
In my remarks on house-construction I made mention of the plaster walls, and of the various colored sands used in the plaster. There are many ways of treating this surface, by which curious effects are obtained. Little gray and white pebbles are sometimes mixed with the plaster. The shells of a little fresh-water bivalve (
In papering plaster-walls rice-paste is not used, as the larvae of certain insects are liable to injure the surface. In lieu of this a kind of seaweed similar to Iceland moss is used, the mucilaginous portion of which forms the cement. This material is used in sizing paper, and also in the pasteboard or stiff paper which is made by sticking a number of sheets together.
Plastered rooms are often papered; and even when the plaster is tinted and the plastered surface is left exposed, is customary to use a paper called
Simple and unpretending as the interior of a Japanese house appears to be, it is wonderful upon how many places in their apparently naked rooms the ingenuity and art-taste of the cabinet-maker can be expended. Naturally, the variety of design and finish of the
The
The designs are of course innumerable, and may consist of diaper-work and geometric designs; or each panel may consist of a single plank of wood with the design wrought out, while the remaining wood is cut away, leaving the dark shadows of the room beyond as a back-ground to the design; or the design may be in the form of a thin panel of cedar, in which patterns
Light and airy as the work seems to be, it must nevertheless be strongly made, as it is rare to see any displaced or broken portions in panels of this nature.
The design represented in fig. 144 is from a
The
In an old house at Gojio, Yamato, is a
It is a remarkable fact, and one well worth calling attention to, that in the smaller towns and villages, in regions far apart, there seem to be artistic workmen capable of designing and executing these graceful and artistic carvings,—for such they certainly are. Everywhere throughout the Empire we find good work of all kinds, and evidence that workmen of all crafts have served
them,—and are employed at home. In other words, the people everywhere appreciate artistic designs and the proper execution of them; and, consequently, men capable in their various lines find their services in demand wherever they may be. I do not mean to imply by this general statement that good workmen in Japan are not drawn to the larger cities for employment, but rather that the smaller towns and villages everywhere are not destitute of such a class, and that the distribution of such artisans is far more wide and general than with us. And how different such conditions are with us may be seen in the fact that there are hundreds of towns and thousands of villages in our country where the carpenter is just capable of making a shelter from the weather; and if he attempts to beautify it—but we will not awaken the recollection of those startling horrors of petticoat scallops fringing the eaves and every opening, and rendered, if possible, more hideous by the painter.
Throughout the breadth and length of that land of thirty-six million people men capable of artistic work, and people capable of appreciating such work, abound. In our land of fifty-five millions one has to seek the great centres of population for similar work,—for elsewhere the good work and its appreciation are exceptional.
At Nagoya, in the house of a poor man, I saw a simple and ingenious form of
As the room, when closed, receives its light through the
At Nagoya, in an old house, I saw a remarkable partition of dark cedar, in which a circular window, five feet in diameter, was occupied by a panel of thin cedar, in which was a perforated design of waves; the drawing was of the most graceful description. The curious, formal, curled tongues of water, like young sprouting ferns, the long graceful sweep of the waves, and the circular drops suspended above the breaking crests presented a charming effect, as the light coming through from the outside illuminated these various openings.
When these windows occur in the second story they are arranged to overlook some pleasant garden or distant landscape;
for this purpose the window is
usually circular, though it may
be in the shape of the crescent
moon, or fan-shaped; indeed,
there seems to be no end to
designs for these apertures.
Openings of this nature between
rooms may or may not have
Great attention is devoted to the window which comes in the recess used for writing purposes. The frame of this
window may be
lacquered, and the
lattice-work and
There are hundreds of forms of these windows, or
In the chapter on Gardens a few descriptions and sketches are given of other forms of windows belonging to summer-houses.
The open character of the Japanese house has caused the development of a variety of forms of portable screens, bamboo shades, curtains, and the like, upon which much ingenuity of construction and an infinite amount of artistic talent have been expended. The
The rich and heavily-gilded screens now so rare to obtain are marvels of decorative painting. While the front of the screen may have a broad landscape, the back may be simply a plain gold surface, or have some sketchy touches of bamboo, pine, etc., in black. I have been told that the gold-leaf was so thick on many of the old screens, that the sacrilege has often been committed of destroying them for the gold contained on their surfaces.
The six-panelled gold-screen is, beyond all question, the richest object of household use for decorative purposes ever devised. There certainly is no other device in which so many decorative arts are called into play. The rich lacquered frame,
When the screen is unfolded and placed on the floor, various devices are provided to prevent the end panels being
On certain festival days, it is customary for the people bordering the wider thoroughfares to throw open their houses and display their screens; and in Kioto, at such times, one may walk along the streets and behold a wonderful exhibition of these beautiful objects.
A screen peculiar to Kioto, and probably farther south, is seen, in which panels of rush and bamboo split in delicate bars are inserted in each leaf of the screen. Such a screen when spread admits a certain amount of light as well as air, and may be used in summer.
A low screen of two folds, called a
In the old-fashioned
When the
In illustrated books there is often seen figured a screen such as is shown in fig. 164. This consists of a lacquered
stand, from which spring two upright rods, which in turn
A screen or curtain is often seen in doorways and passageways, consisting of a fringe of cords, upon which have been strung like beads short sections of bamboo, with black seeds at intervals. A portion of one of these fringed curtains is illustrated in fig. 165. Such a curtain has the advantage not only of being a good screen, but the inmates may pass through it, so to speak, without the necessity of lifting it. There are many forms of this curtain to be seen, and at present the Japanese are exporting a variety of delicate ones made of glass beads and sections of rushes.
Cloth curtains are used at the entrance to the kitchen, and also to screen closet-like recesses. The cloth is cut at intervals, leaving
There are doubtless many other forms of screens and curtains not here enumerated, but most of those described present the common forms usually observed.
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
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;
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
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
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).
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
Fig. 171 represents more clearly the form of this brazier, which is called a
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. 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
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 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
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.
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
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.
One of the surprising features that strike a foreigner as he becomes acquainted with the Japanese house is the entire
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.
A variety of closets is found in
the Japanese house. The larger closets, closed by sliding screens or
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
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
A correspondent in the Pall Mall Gazette,
in protesting against the attempt to impose European clothing on those people who are accustomed to go without any, says: In many parts of India there is a profound suspicion of the irreligiousness of clothing. The fakir is distressed even by the regulation rag upon which the Government modestly insists, and a fully dressed fakir would be scouted. The late Brahmo minister, Chesub Chunder Sen, expressed the belief that India would never accept a Christ in hat and boots. The missionary should remember that clothes-morality is climatic, and that if a certain degree of covering of the body has gradually become in the Northwest associated with morality and piety, the traditions of tropical countries may have equally connected elaborate dress rather with the sensualities of Solomon in his glory than with the purity of the lily as clothed by Nature.
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.
Rein says: The cleanliness of the Japanese is one of his most commendable qualities. It is apparent in his body, in his house, in his workshop, and no less in the great carefulness and exemplary exactness with which he looks after his fields.
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.
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
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
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
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
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.
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.
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 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 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
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.
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.
From the name bed-place,
literally bed of floor,
it is supposed that in ancient times the bed was made or placed in this recess.
The usual form of pillow, or
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
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
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
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
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
An inseparable accompaniment of every Japanese home, from the most exalted to the very humblest, is the
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
In bronze
Much art and skill are displayed in the bronze and iron
A very favorite form of wooden
The
A sentiment prompts many families to keep the
In a winter party the
Whenever you call on a friend, winter or summer, his very first act of hospitality is to place the
A smaller form of
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.
When the
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
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.
A common form of Japanese candlestick, called
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,
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
There are many kinds of
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
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
Near the
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.
In nearly every house one sees perched up on a shelf called the
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
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
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.
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
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 morning face
(fig. 219). The wooden ones are often filled with branches of spruce, which are frequently replenished. The inner
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
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.
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
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.
In this connection it may be interesting to mention the various names applied to the privy by the Japanese, with a free translation of the same as given me by Mr. A. S. Mihara:
These words with their meanings certainly indicate a great degree of refinement an delicacy in the terms applied to the privy.
snow-hide;
place to wash hands
(the place for business;
back-frame.
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.
The study of the house-architecture of Japan, as compared with that of America, it is curious to observe the relative degree of importance given to similar features by the two peoples. With us the commonest house in the city or country will have a definite front-door, and almost always one with some embellishments, in the shape of heavy panels, ornate brackets and braces supporting some sort of a covering above, and steps approaching it equally pretentious; in the ordinary Japanese house, on the contrary, this entrance is, as we shall see, often, though not always, of the most indefinite character. With us, again, the hall or front-entry stairs may be seen immediately on entering the house,—and this portion has some display in the baluster and gracefully curving rail, and in the better class of houses receives special attention from the architect; in Japan, however, if the house be of two stories the stairway is never in sight, and is rarely more than a stout and precipitous step-ladder. On the other hand, the ridge of the roof, which in Japan almost invariably forms the most picturesque feature of the house exterior, is with us nothing more than the line of junction of the plainest rain-shed; though in great edifices feeble attempts have been made to decorate this lofty and conspicuous line by an inverted cast-iron design, which is not only absolutely useless as a structural feature, but, so far as the design is concerned, might be
Accustomed as we are, then, to a front-door with steps and rail and a certain pretentious architectural display, it is difficult to conceive of a house without some such distinctive characters to its portal. In the ordinary Japanese house, however, we often look in vain for such indications. In the common class of their houses, and even in those of more importance, the entrance is often vaguely defined; one may enter the house by way of the garden and make his salutations on the verandah, or he may pass into the house by an ill-defined boundary near the kitchen,—a sort of back-door on the front side. In other houses this entrance is by means of a small matted area, which differs in no respect from the other rooms save that the outer edge of its raised floor is some distance within the eaves, and between this and the sill the floor is mother earth. One or two steps, consisting of single planks running the width of the room, lead from the earth to the floor. The roof at this point may be a gable, as more specially marking the entrance. These indefinite entrances, however, belong only to the houses of what may be called the middle and lower classes, though even in houses of the middle classes well-marked entrances, and even entrances of some pretensions, are not uncommon. Some may be inclined to doubt the statement that in the ordinary houses the entrance is often more or less vaguely defined. As a curious proof of this, however, I have in my possession Japanese architects' plans of two houses, consisting of a number of rooms, and representing dwellings far above the ordinary type; and though I have consulted a number of Japanese friends in regard to these plans, none of them have been able to tell me where the main entrance is, or ought to be!
In a better class of houses the entrance is in the form of a wide projecting porch, with special gable roof, having
In some houses the floor of the hall, as well as that of the vestibule, is composed of plank; and the polish of the steps
and floor is of such exquisite ivory smoothness that the decorated screen and
It would seem as if the fitting architecture of this important portal had been transferred to the gateway,—ponderous hinged-doors, bolts, bars, and all; for in the gateways a conspicuous, though oftentimes fictitious, solidity is shown in the canopy of beams and tiles, supported by equally massive posts.
In fig. 221 is shown a view of the entrance to the house figured on pages 54 and 55. It is the house of a
The sill is grooved to accommodate the
The plan here given (fig. 222) shows a hall often seen in the better class of houses. The area between the entrance and the
In a narrow hall in an old house near Uyeno, in Tokio, I got the accompanying sketch of a shoe-closet (fig. 223). The briefest examination of the various clogs it contained revealed the same idiosyncrasies of walking as with us,—some were down at the heel, others were worn at the sides. There were clogs of many sizes and kinds,—common clogs of the school-children, with the dried mud of the street still clinging to them, and the best clogs with lacquered sides and finely-matted soles. At one side hung a set of shoe-cords ready for emergency.
In another house, just within the vestibule, I noticed a shelf-rack above the
In this vestibule the
In the houses of the Daimios the entrance is always grandly marked by a special roof, and by a massive structure of carved beams supporting it,—brilliantly colored oftentimes, and the surroundings in keeping with the dignity of this important region.
The doorways of shops and inns, when they definitely occur, are large square openings stoutly but neatly barred,—and permanently too, a portion of it being made to roll back. The sill of such an opening is some little distance from the ground, and one on entering steps over this sill to an earth floor within, called the
The verandah is an essential part of the Japanese house. The word itself is of Oriental origin, and it is difficult to imagine an Oriental house of any pretensions without a verandah of some kind. In the Japanese house it is almost a continuation of the floor of the room, being but slightly below its level. The verandah is something more than a luxury; it is a necessity arising from the
rain-door,
and at night and during driving storms they are closed. At times, however, the rain may beat in between the
In ordinary houses the verandah has no outer rail, though in the houses of the nobility a rail is often present. The width of the verandah varies in proportion to the size of the house. In some of the temples the verandah floor may be ten feet or more in width, and thickly lacquered, as in some of the Nikko temples. In common houses this area may be three or four feet in width. A reference to the plans (figs. 97 and 98; pages 113, 116), and also to the vertical section (fig. 103; page 126), will give a clear idea of this platform and its relation to the house. There are various ways of treating this feature; it is always supported on wooden posts, rough or hewn, which, like the uprights of the house, rest on single stones partly buried in the ground. The space between the edge of the verandah and the ground is almost invariably left open, as will be seen by reference to figs. 37, 48, 49, 50, and 95 (pages 55, 66, 68, 70, 106), though in Kioto houses it is sometimes filled up by simple boarding or panelling; and here and there are one or more panels which run back and forth in grooves, so that one can go beneath the house if necessary. The planks composing
The verandah varies considerably in its height from the ground;
more often it is so low that one
sitting on its edge may rest his feet
comfortably on the ground. In
this case a single wide block, either
of stone or wood, forms the step.
When the verandah is at a greater
height from the ground, permanent or adjustable steps, two or
three in number, are placed in
position. A common form of verandah-step is shown in fig. 179
(page 199). A very good type of
verandah sketched from an old
house in Kioto is shown in fig.
227. The manner in which the
uprights support the broad over-hanging eaves, the appearance of the supplementary roof called
Rooms in the second story also open upon a balcony, the platform of which is generally much narrower than the one below. This balcony has of necessity a rail or balustrade; and here much good artistic work is displayed in design and finish, with simple and economical devices, apparent as in so many other features of the house. This structure, with a firm hand-rail above, has the interspaces between the posts which support it filled with many quaint and curious devices, either of lattice, bamboo, or panels with perforated designs. Generally a narrow bar runs from post to post close to the platform, so that any object dropped may not roll out; between the end posts of the rail this piece is often removable, to allow dust and dirt to be more easily swept away. (In fig. 228 the piece marked A is removable).
Fig. 229 represents a panel from a balustrade in Matsushima. In this the design of bamboo was cut through, producing a very light and pretty effect. Fig. 230 shows another panel from a balustrade in Fujisawa; a perforated design of dragons in various attitudes ornamented each panel, which was held in place by a frame composed of round sticks of the red pine.
It seems surprising that our architects do not oftener employ this method of perforation in their ornamental work,—the designs can be so clearly and sharply cut, while the dark shade of the room or space beyond gives a depth of color to the design, which is at the same time permanent. With the Japanese this method of ornamentation is a favorite one both for outside and inside finish, and they have shown great ingenuity and originality in the infinite variety of designs for this mode of treatment. Nothing seems too difficult for them to attempt,—flying birds, swimming fishes, dashing waves and the rising sun, flowers and butterflies; indeed, the whole range of pictorial design has offered no difficulties to them. In their process of figuring cloths and crape, stencil-plates of thick paper are employed, and in the printing of wall-paper the same methods are resorted to.
In a balcony rail (fig. 231) a most delicate device was made using for a middle rail a small bamboo, directly beneath
The balustrade is often made very solid and substantial, as may be seen in fig. 232, sketched from the house of a celebrated potter in Kioto. The posts had metal tops, and at intervals along the upper rail metal plates were fixed.
Transient guests are often received on the verandah; which place the
The ordinary form of verandah is called
The
These shutters are the noisy features of a Japanese house. Within are no slamming doors or rattling latches; one admires the quiet and noiseless way in which the
The Japanese have a number of curious devices by which lock or bolt these shutters. So far as I know, the only night
In old houses round-headed iron knobs (fig 235) will be noticed on the outer edge of the groove in which the
In the second story the
In the
Not only the verandah but the entrance to the house, as well as the windows when they occur, are closed at night by
In an ordinary house the
The
A curious evidence of the cleanly habits of the Japanese is seen in the
For a support to these vessels the quaintest devices come into play: it may be the trunk of a tree, from one side of which a branch springs, covered with leaves and blossoms; or it may be the end of a carved post from some old building, as shown in fig. 237. A favorite support consists of a rudder-post from some old shipwreck, as shown in fig. 239, at a gentleman's house in the suburbs of Tokio. Usually the vessel is of bronze; and one often notices rare old forms used for this purpose, covered with a rich patina. Oftentimes water is conducted by a bamboo pipe, to fall in a continuous stream among the pebbles.
Many forms of
Usually the stone
Taste and ingenuity are shown here, as elsewhere, in making this corner refined and artistic. Rare woods and expensive rock-work enter into its composition; beautiful flowers, climbing vines, and dwarf-pines are clustered about it; and books are specially prepared to illustrate the many ways in which this convenience may be dealt with.
The general neatness and cleanliness of the people are well shown by the almost universal presence of the
While little or no attempt at architectural display is made on that side of the house that comes next the street, the gateway, on the contrary, receives a good deal of attention, and many of
these entrances are quite remarkable for their design and structure. These, like the fences, vary greatly as to their lightness or solidity. The gateways bordering the street are often of the most solid description,—well barred within, having a roof above them, and when painted black, as they often are, looking grim enough. Whether solid or light, however, the gateways are usually picturesque. Rustic effects are frequently seen, even in the gateways of the city houses; though often frail in appearance, it is rare to see one in ruins, or even in a dilapidated condition. Many of them are made of light thin material, though the upright posts are stout timbers well braced behind
There are many different types of gateways. In the city, one type is seen in the long row of buildings which form part of a
Of the first kind forming the entrance to the
Of another group are the ordinary gateways of the better class of city houses. Fig. 243 is a typical one of this description.
A number of curious ways are devised to lock the little sliding door in the gateway, one of which is here figured (fig. 245.) To the left of the drawing a portion of the door is shown. A piece hanging from a panel in the gate is held against the edge of the door by a sliding bolt, which, when pushed back, drops into place, allowing the door to slide by. It is, however, difficult to make this clear by description; a reference to fig. 245 will illustrate it. Not only do the larger gates have these smaller openings, but in the street-entrance of shops and inns the door which closes the entrance has a little door either hinged or on rollers. This is called the earthquake door, as through this in times of sudden danger the inmates escape, the larger doors or rain-shutters being liable to get bound or jammed in the swaying of the building.
The gateway shown in fig. 246 was sketched on the road which borders the Shinobadzu pond in Uyeno Park, Tokio. It represents a simple form of gateway
in the high wooden
fence which encloses
the house and garden from the street. The double gates consist of single thin planks; above, a decoration is cut out of the narrow panel; a light coping held in place by two brackets
A more elaborate gateway on the same street is shown in fig. 247. In this gateway one of the panels slides in a groove behind the other panel, which is fixed. These panels are filled with a braiding of thin strips of cedar. Above these low panels is a stout net-work of wood. The round gate-posts are held together above by a round beam as well as by a wide and thin plank, in which is cut in perforated pattern a graceful design. The roof of the gate is made of wide thin boards, supported by transverse pieces passing through the upright posts and keyed into place. The door-plate, consisting of a thin board upon which the name of the occupant is painted, is nailed to the post.
Fig. 248 represents a gateway on the road leading from Shiba to Shinagawa, near Tokio. It was remarkable for the beauty of its proportions and the purity of its design. The two upright posts consisted of the natural trunks of trees
A gate-like structure seen in front of all shrines and temples.
Another gateway not so pretty, but showing one of the many grotesque ideas of the Japanese, is shown in fig. 249. Here the upper transverse beam is a huge and crooked log of wood,—an old log which had been dragged from the forest just as it fell in ruins from some tree. This peculiar way of arching a gateway with a tortuous stick is quite commonly seen.
Fig. 250 represents a typical form of gateway often observed in the suburbs of Tokio and farther south. Its roof is quite large and complex, yet not heavy. The gate has a wide over-hanging roof of bark; the ridge consists of large bamboos placed longitudinally in two sets, each set being kept apart from each other as well as from the roof by thick saddles of bark resting across the ridge, the whole mass tied together and to
Figs. 251 and 252 are rustic gateways in one of the large Imperial gardens in Tokio. In one, two rough logs form the posts, the fence being composed of large bamboos in sets of three, alternating on either side of the rails to which they are tied. This was a portal simply. The other had smooth round gateposts with a light wooden gate with braided panel, and the fence of each side was composed of rush. These gateways and fences were introduced as pleasing effects in the garden.
In the village of Miyajima the deer come down from the woods and wander through the streets. To prevent them from entering the houses and gardens, the passages are guarded by the lightest of latticed gates, against which hangs a weight suspended from above by a cord or long bamboo. The weight answers a double purpose by keeping the gate closed, and also when opened by a caller, by banging loudly against it, thus attracting the attention of a servant.
Large folding gates are often fastened by a transverse bar not unlike the way in which gates are fastened in our country. For light-folding gates an iron ring fastened to one gate by
There is an infinite variety of forms of garden gates; many of them consisting of the lightest wicker-work, and made solely for picturesque effects. Others, though for the same purpose,
are more substantial. Fig. 253 represents a quaint garden gate leading into another garden beyond. Frail and unsubstantial as this gate appeared, it was nearly forty years old. The house to the right beyond the gate is for the tea-ceremonies, and the huge fish seen hanging up at the left is made of wood, and gives out a resonant sound when struck; it is the bell, in fact, to call the party from the guest-room to the tearoom beyond at the proper time. The owner of this place is a teacher and master of the
The variety in design and structure of fences seems almost inexhaustible. Many of them are solid and durable structures, others of the lightest possible description,—some made with solid frame and heavy stakes, and others of wisps of rush and sticks of bamboo; and between these is an infinite variety of intermediate forms. A great diversity of material enters into the structure of these fences,—heavy timbers, light boards, sticks of red-pine, bamboo, reed, twigs, and fagots. Bundles of rush, and indeed almost every kind of plant that can be bound into bundles or sustain its own weight are brought into requisition in the composition of these boundary partitions.
The fences have special names, either derived from their form or the substances from which they are made; thus, a little ornamental fence that juts out from the side of a house or wall is called a sleeve,
and fence,
the form of the fence having a fanciful resemblance to the curious
There are many different groups of Japanese fences. Under one group may be mentioned all those enclosing the ground upon which the house stands. In the city these are often quite tall, usually built of boards, and supported on solid frames resting on a foundation of stone. In the country such fences are hardly more than trellises of bamboo, and these of the lightest description. Many of the fences are strictly ornamental, consisting either of light trellises bounding certain areas, or forming little screens jutting from the side of the house, or from the side of more durable fences or walls. Of these the designs are endless.
Let us examine more in detail some of the principal Japanese types of fences. A simple board-fence consists, as with us, of an upper and lower cross-tie, to which the boards are nailed. A useful modification of the ordinary board-fence consists in having the upper and lower rails of thick board, three or four inches wide, and nailed sideways to the fence-posts. The fence-boards are nailed to these rails alternately on one side and on the other. A pretty effect is produced by the interrupted appearance of the rails, and a useful purpose also is subserved by lessening the pressure of the wind which so often blows with great violence, since by securing the boards in this way interspaces occur between the boards the width of the rails. Fig. 254 illustrates a portion of this kind of fence, with its appearance in section as seen from above. This feature in board fences might be imitated with advantage in our country.
Heavy stake fences are made by mortising each stake, which consists of a stout square piece, and running the rail through the mortises thus made, and then pinning each stake in position. In many fences of this kind there are two rails near together, while the lower ends of the stakes are secured to a foundation-piece, or sill, which is raised an inch or two from the ground by stone props at intervals. By this treatment the sill is preserved both from the ravages of insects and the dampness of the ground. Fig. 255
A very serviceable kind of fence is made of bamboo, which is interwoven in the rails of the fence, as shown in fig. 256. The bamboo stakes are held in place by their elasticity. It will be observed that the post supporting this fence, and also showing the side of a gateway, is marked in a curious fashion. This post is a stout stick of wood in its natural state, the bark only being removed. The design, in a rich brown color, is in this case in the form of diamond-shaped spaces, though spiral lines, like those on a barber's pole, are often seen. This design is burned in, and the wood being carbonized is consequently insoluble as well as unchangeable in color. I was curious to know how such a design was burned in this formal pattern, and learned that a long stout rope, or band of straw soaked in water, was first wound around the post in a wide spiral, in two directions, leaving diamond-shaped interspaces. A bed of hot coals being prepared, the post was exposed to this heat, and the wood not protected by the wet straw-band became charred. This simple yet ingenious way of getting plain decorations, in a rich brown and lasting color, is one that might be utilized in a variety of ways by American architects.
Fences built between house-lots, and consequently bordering the gardens, are made in a variety of decorative ways. A very strong and durable fence is shown in fig. 257, sketched in Hakone village. The posts in this case were natural trunks of
Another fence of a more ornamental character (fig. 258) from a sketch made in Tokio. In this the lower part
In the
Fig. 259 represents a fence in which cylindrical bundles of rush are bound together by a black-fibred root, and held together by bamboo pieces. Little bundles of fagots are tied to each columns as an odd feature of decoration. In fig. 260 cylindrical bundles of rush and twigs are affixed in pairs on each side of
Fig. 259 represents a fence in which cylindrical bundles of rush are bound together by a black-fibred root, and held together by bamboo pieces. Little bundles of fagots are tied to each columns as an odd feature of decoration. In fig. 260 cylindrical bundles of rush and twigs are affixed in pairs on each side of
bamboo ties, which run from the outer post to the wooden fence
Besides the fences, a few of which only have been figured, there are stout, durable walls built up with tile and plaster, or mud intermixed. These structures rest on a foundation of stone, are two or three feet wide at their base, and rise to a height of eight feet or more, at which altitude they may not be over two feet in width, and are crowned with a coping of tiles like a miniature roof-top. The interior of these walls is filled with a rubble of clay and broken tiles, while the outside exhibits an orderly arrangement of tiles in successive layers.
The large enclosures, or
The Japanese garden, like the house, presents features that never enter into similar places in America. With us it is either modelled after certain French styles, or it is simply beds of flowers in patches or formal plats, or narrow beds bordering the paths; and even these attempts are generally made on large areas only. The smaller gardens seen around our ordinary dwellings are with few exceptions a tangle of bushes, or wretched attempts to crowd as many different kinds of flowers as possible into a given area; and when winter comes, there is nothing left but a harvest of dead stalks and a lot of hideously-designed trellises painted green.
It is no wonder, then, that as our people have gradually become awakened within recent years to some idea of fitness and harmony of color, the conventional flower-bed has been hopelessly abandoned, and now green grass grows over the graves of most of these futile attempts to defy Nature. The grass substitute has at least the merit of not being offensive to the eye, and of requiring but little care save that of the strenuous pushing of the mechanical grass-cutter. This substitute is, however, a confession of inability and ignorance,—as much as if a decorator, after having struggled in vain with his fresco designs upon some ceiling, should give up in disgust and paint the entire surface one color.
The secret in a Japanese garden is that they do not attempt too much. That reserve and sense of propriety which characterize this people in all their decorative and other artistic work are here seen to perfection. Furthermore, in the midst of so much that is evanescent they see the necessity of providing enduring points of interest in the way of little ponds and bridges, odd-shaped stone lanterns and inscribed rocks, summer-houses and rustic fences, quaint paths of stone and pebble, and always a number of evergreen trees and shrubs. We, indeed, have feebly groped that way with our cement vases, jigsaw pavilions green with poisonous compound, and cast-iron fountains of such design that one no longer wonders at the increase of insanity in our midst. One of every hundred of the fountains that our people dote upon is in the form of two little cast-iron children standing in a cast-iron basin, holding over their heads a sheet-iron umbrella, from the point of which squirts a stream of water,—a perennial shower for them alone, while the grass and all about may be sear and yellow with the summer's drought!
The Japanese have brought their garden arts to such perfection that a plot of ground ten feet square is capable of being exquisitely beautified by their methods. Plots of ground that in this country are too often encumbered with coal-ashes, tea-grounds, tin cans, and the garbage-barrel, in Japan are rendered charming to the eye by the simplest means. With cleanliness, simplicity, a few little evergreen shrubs, one or two little clusters of flowers, a rustic fence projecting from the side of the house, a quaintly shaped flower-pot or two, containing a few choice plants,—the simplest form of garden is attained. So much do the Japanese admire gardens, and garden effects, that their smallest strips of ground are utilized for this purpose. In the crowded city, among the poorest houses, one often sees, in the corner of a little earth-area that comes between the sill and
In gardens of larger size these little mountains are sometimes twenty, thirty, and even forty feet in height, and are built up from the level ground with great labor and expense. On top of these a little rustic lookout with thatched roof is made, from which if a view of Fuji can be got the acme is indeed reached. In still larger gardens,—that is, gardens measuring several hundred feet each way,—the ponds and bridges, small hills and meandering paths, with shrubs trimmed in round balls of various sizes, and grotesquely-shaped pines with long tortuous branches running near the ground, are all combined in such a way by the skilful landscape gardener that the area seems, without exaggeration of statement, ten times as vast.
Irregularly and grotesquely shaped stones and huge slabs of rock form an important feature of all gardens; indeed, it is as difficult to imagine a Japanese garden without a number of picturesque and oddly-shaped stones as it is to imagine an American garden without flowers. In Tokio, for example, there being near the city no proper rocks of this kind for garden decoration, rocks and stones are often transported forty or fifty
Chikusan Teizoden,
written in the early
part of the last century, the
arrangement of rocks in the
various garden designs will
be observed.
Tablets of rock, not unlike
a certain type of gravestone,
and showing the rough cleavage of the rock from the parent ledge, are often erected in gardens. Upon the face of the rock some appropriate inscription is engraved. The accompanying sketch (fig. 263) is a tablet of this sort, from a famous tea-garden at Omori, celebrated for its plum-blossoms. The legend, freely translated, runs as follows: The sight of the plum-blossom causes the ink to flow in the writing-room,
—meaning that one is inspired to compose poetry under the influence of these surroundings. This tablet was raised on a slight mound, with steps leading to it and quaint pines and shrubs surrounding it. The sketch gives only a suggestion of its appearance.
The stone lanterns
These stone lanterns are called
This legend is from a work entitled Chikusan Teizoden.
A few sketches are here given illustrating some of the forms of
The little bridges of stone and wood are extremely good examples of rustic-work, and might be copied with advantage in our country. The ingenious device of displacing the stones laterally (fig. 268), or of combining the bridge with stepping-stones, as seen in some of them, is decidedly unique.
Fig. 269 illustrates a stone bridge in one of the large gardens of Tokio. The span of this bridge was ten or twelve feet, and yet the bridge itself was composed of a single slab of stone. Fig. 270 shows a little brook in a private garden in Tokio.
Here the foot-bridge consists of an unwrought slab of rock. The
The summer-houses are simple and picturesque; sometimes they have a seat and a
The training of vines and trees about the summer-house window is often delightfully conceived. We recall the circular window of one that presented a most beautiful appearance. Three sides of the summer-house were closed by permanent plaster partitions, tinted a rich brown color, with a very broad-eaved thatched roof throwing its dark shade on the matted floor. In the partition opposite the open side was a perfectly circular window five feet in diameter. There was no frame or moulding to this opening, simply the plastering finished squarely at the border; dark-brown bamboos of various thicknesses, secured across this opening horizontally, formed the frame-work; running vertically, and secured to the bamboo, was a close grating of brown rush. Over and around this window—it being on the sunny side—there had been carefully trained outside a vine with rich green leaves, so that the window was more or less shaded by it. The effect of the sunlight falling upon the vine was exquisite beyond description. When two or three leaves interposed between the sun's rays, the color was a rich dark green; where here and there, over the whole mass, a single leaf only interrupted the light, there were bright green flashes, like emerald gems; at points the dazzling sunlight glinted like sparks. In a few places the vine and leaves had been coaxed through the grating of rushes, and these were consequently in deep shadow. I did not attempt to sketch it, as no drawing could possibly convey an idea of the exceeding richness and charm of the effect, with the cool and shaded room within, the
My attention was first attracted to it by noticing a number of Japanese peering at it through an open fence, and admiring in rapt delight this charming conception. Such a room and window might easily be arranged in our gardens, as we have a number of vines with light, translucent leaves capable of being utilized in this way.
Fig. 271 gives a view of a summer-house in a private garden in Tokio. Four rough posts and a few cross-ties formed the frame; it had a raised floor, the edge of which formed a seat, and two plastered partitions at right angles, in one of which was cut a circular window, and in the other a long, narrow opening above; and crowning the whole was a heavily-thatched roof, its peak capped by an inverted earthen basin. Whether the basin was made expressly for this purpose or not, its warm red color added a pleasing effect to the gray of the thatch. In front and about it stones and rocks were arranged in pleasing disorder, while a number of exotic flowers and quaintly trimmed shrubs added their charms, and a little brook found its way across the path leading to it.
Fig. 272 is the sketch of a summer-house in one of the imperial gardens in Tokio. The frame, as in the one last figured, consisted of round sticks with the bark retained; this was capped with a thatched roof, surmounted by a ridge of thatch and bamboo. A very pretty feature was shown in the trellises, which sprung diagonally from each post,—the frame of these trellises consisting of tree-branches selected for their irregular forms. The lattice was made of bamboo and rush, and each trellis had a different design. The seat within was of porcelain; and about the slight mound on which the summer-house stood were curiously-trimmed shrubs and dwarfed pines.
The openings or windows in these summer-houses are often remarkable for their curious designs. The following sketches (figs. 273, 274) give a faint idea of the appearance of these rustic openings,—one representing a gourd, its frame being made of grape-vine; the other suggesting a mountain, the lattice being made of bamboo.
For border hedges, trees of large size are often trained to form a second barrier above the squarely-trimmed shrubs that come next the path. A jinko-tree is trained so that it spreads like a fan, in one direction, to a width of thirty feet or more, while it may not be over two feet in thickness. An infinite amount of patient work is required in tying all the big branches and little twigs to bamboo supports in order to bring trees into such strange forms.
In the garden of Fukiage, in Tokio, some very marvellous effects of landscape-gardening are seen. At a distance you notice high ground, a hill in fact, perhaps fifty or sixty feet in height; approaching it from a plain of rich green grass you cross a little lake, bridged at one point by a single slab of rock; then up a ravine, down which a veritable mountain brook is tumbling, and through a rock foundation so natural, that, until a series of faults and dislocations, synclinals and anticlinals, in rapid succession arouse your geological memories with a rude shock, you cannot believe that all this colossal mass of material has been transported here by man, from distances to be measured by leagues; and that a few hundred years ago a low plain existed where now are rocky ravines and dark dells, with heavy forest
trees throwing their cool shadows over all. You wend your way by a picturesque forest-path to the summit of the hill, which is crowned by a rustic summer-house with wide verandah, from which a beautiful view of Fuji is got. Looking back towards the park, you expect to see the ravine below, but, to your amazement, an absolutely flat plain of shrubbery, resembling a closely-cropped tea plantation, level to the top of the hill and extending to a considerable distance, greets your
I have spoken of the love the Japanese have for gardens and garden effects, the smallest areas of ground being utilized for this purpose. As an illustration of this, I recall an experience in a cheap inn, where I was forced to take a meal or go hungry till late at night. The immediate surroundings indicated poverty, the house itself being poorly furnished, the mats hard and uneven, and the attendants very cheaply dressed. In the room where our meal was served there was a circular window, through which could be seen a curious stone lantern and a pine-tree, the branches of which stretched across the opening, while beyond a fine view of some high mountains was to be had. From where we sat on the mats there were all the evidences of a fine garden outside; and wondering how so poor a house could sustain so fine a garden, I went to the window to investigate. What was my surprise to find that the extent of ground from which the lantern and pine-tree sprung was just three feet in width! Then came a low board-fence, and beyond this stretched the rice-fields of a neighboring farmer. At home such a narrow strip of land would in all likelihood have been the receptacle for broken glass and tin cans, and a thoroughfare for erratic cats; here, however, everything was clean and neat,—and this narrow plot of ground, good for no other purpose, had been utilized solely for the benefit of the room within.
Reference has been made to the ponds and brooks as desirable features in garden-making. Where water is not obtainable for the purpose, or possibly for the ingenuity of the idea, the Japanese sometimes make a deceptive pond, which is absolutely destitute of water; so perfectly, however, are the various features of the pond carried out, that the effect of water is produced by the illusion of association. The pond is laid out in an irregular outline, around the border of which plant-pots buried out of sight contain the iris and a number of plants which naturally abound near wet shores. The bottom of the pond is lined with little gray pebbles, and a rustic bridge leads to a little island in the centre. The appearance of this dry pond from the verandah is most deceptive.
The real ponds contain either lotus or other aquatic plants, or they may be given up to turtles or gold-fish, and are oftentimes very elaborately laid out with rustic, wooden, or stone bridges. Little promontories with stone lanterns standing at their ends like miniature light-houses, rustic arbors or seats, trellises above supporting a luxuriant growth of wistaria, and tortuous pines with long branches reaching out over the water, are a few of the many features which add so much to that peculiar charm so characteristic of Japanese gardens.
The pathways of stone are of many kinds. Sometimes the slabs of stone may be finished squarely, and then each may be arranged in line across the path, or adjusted in such a way from one side to the other that a zigzag path is made; in other cases the path may consist of long slabs squarely trimmed, or of large irregular slabs interrupted with little stones, all compacted into the hard earth. Fig. 275, copied from Chikusan Teizoden,
shows some of these arrangements; and an idea of the way in which the stone paths are laid out is well illustrated in figs. 283 and 284 (pp. 291, 292), copied from the same work. The entrance from the street is seen at the left. The stone path leads through a courtyard to a second gate, and from thence to the
Flowers, shrubs, and dwarf trees in pots and tubs are commonly used in the vicinity of the verandah, and also about the garden for decorative features; and here tasteful and rustic effects are sought for in the design and material of the larger wooden receptacles. Fig. 276 represents a shallow trough made from a fragment of an old shipwreck, blackened by age, and mounted on a dark wood-stand. In this trough are two stones, a bronze crab, and a few aquatic plants. Another wooden flower-pot of large size (fig. 277) is made from the planks of an old vessel, the wood perforated by Teredo, and the grain deeply worn out by age. Its form permits it to be carried by two men.
Among the most extraordinary objects connected with gardens are the dwarf plum-trees. Before the evidence of life
Fig. 278 is an attempt to show the appearance of one of
these phenomenal plum-trees. It was over forty years old,
and stood about three feet high. By what horticultural sorcery
life had been kept in this blackened stump, only a Japanese
gardener knows. And such a vitality! Not a few feeble twigs
and blossoms as an expiring effort, but a delicious growth of
the most vigorous and dainty flowers. The pines are equally
remarkable in their way. It is very curious to see a sturdy
old pine-tree, masculine and gruff in its gnarled branches and
tortuous trunk, perhaps forty or fifty years old, and yet not
over two feet in height, and growing in a flower-pot; or a thick
chunk of pine standing upright in a flower-pot, and sending out
In a large garden in Tokio I saw one of these trees that spread out in a symmetrical convex disk with a diameter of twenty feet or more, yet standing not over two feet in height (fig. 280); still another one, in which the branches had been trained to assume the appearance of flattened disks (fig. 281). It would seem as if the artistic and picturesque taste of the gardener followed the shrubs even to their winter shrouds of straw; for when they are enwrapped for the winter's cold and snow, the objects even in this guise look quaint and attractive, besides being most thoroughly protected, as may be seen by fig. 282 on page 290.
In this brief sketch of Japanese gardens only the more salient features have been touched upon, and these only in the most general way. It would have been more proper to have included the ornamental fences, more especially the
In this chapter on gardens, I regret the absence of general sketches of the garden proper; but the few sketches I had made were too imperfect to hazard an attempt at their reproduction. Moreover, not the slightest justice could have been done to the thoroughly original character of the Japanese garden, with all its variety and beauty. In lieu of this, however, I have had reproduced a number of views of private gardens, from a Japanese work on the subject published in the early part of the last century,—though, so far as their general arrangement and appearance go, they might have been copied from gardens to be seen in that country to-day.
The first illustration (fig. 283) shows the relation of the various buildings, with the approaches from the street, which is on the left. Here are seen two gateways: the larger one with swinging gates is closed; the smaller one with sliding gate is open. The building with the two little windows and black foundation is the
It is a remarkable fact that the various trees and shrubs which adorn a Japanese garden may be successfully transplanted again and again without impairing their vitality. Trees of very large size may be seen, almost daily, being dragged through the streets on their way from one garden to another. A man may have a vigorous and healthy garden under way in the space of a few days,—trees forty or fifty feet high, and as many years old, sturdy shrubs and tender plants, all possessing a vitality and endurance under the intelligent management of a Japanese gardener, which permits them to be transported from one end of the city to the other. If for some reason the owner has to give up his place, every stone and ornamental fence, and every tree and plant having its commercial value, may all be dug up and sold and spirited away, in a single day, to some other part of the town. And such a vicissitude often falls to the lot of a Japanese garden, enduring as it is. The whole affair, save the circular well-hole, may be transported like magic from one end of the country to the other.
With the exception of a few of the larger cities, the water-supply of Japan is by means of wooden wells sunk in the ground. In Tokio, besides the ordinary forms of wells which are found in every portion of the city, there is a system of aqueducts conveying water from the Tamagawa a distance of twenty-four miles, and from Kanda a distance of ten miles or more. It is hardly within the province of this work to call attention to the exceeding impurity of much of the well-water in Tokio and elsewhere in Japan, as shown by many analyses, or to the imperfect way in which water is conveyed from remote places to Tokio and Yokohama. For valuable and interesting papers on this subject the reader is referred to the Journal of the Asiatic Society of Japan.
Professor Atkinson, in the Journal of the Asiatic Society, vol. vi. part i.; Dr. Geerts, ibid., vol. vii. part iii.
Dr. O. Korschelt has made an extremely valuable contribution to the Asiatic Society of Japan, on the water-supply of Tokio. Aided by Japanese students, he has made many analyses of well-waters and waters from the city supply, and shows that, contrary to the conclusions of Professor Atkinson, the high-ground wells are on the whole much purer than those on lower ground. Dr. Korschelt also calls attention to the great number of artesian wells sunk in Tokio, by means of bamboo tubes driven into the ground. The ordinary form of well is carried down thirty or forty feet in the usual way, and then at the bottom bamboo tubes are driven to great depths, ranging from one hundred to two hundred feet and more. He speaks of a number of these wells in Tokio and the suburbs as overflowing. There is one well not far from the Tokio Daigaku which overflows; and a very remarkable sight it is to see the water pouring over a high
well-curb and flooding the ground in the vicinity. He shows that pure water may be reached in most parts of Tokio by means of artesian wells; and to this source the city must ultimately look for its water-supply.
For further particulars concerning this subject, the reader is referred to Dr. Korschelt's valuable paper in the Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan, vol. xii. part iii., p. 143.
The aqueducts in the city are made of wood, either in the shape of heavy square plank tubes or circular wooden pipes. These various conductors are intersected by open wells, in which the water finds its natural level, only partially filling them. These wells are to be found in the main streets as well as in certain open areas; and to them the people come, not only to get their water, but often to do light washing.
The time must soon come when the authorities of Tokio will find it absolutely necessary to establish water-works for the supply of the city. Such a change from the present system would require an enormous expenditure at the outset, but in the
end the community will be greatly benefited, not only in having more efficient means to quell the awful conflagrations which so frequently devastate their thoroughfares, but also in having a more healthful water-supply for family use. In their present imperfect method of water-service it is impossible to keep the supply free from local contamination; and though the death-rate of the city is low compared with that of many European
In many country villages, where the natural conditions exist, a mountain brook is conducted by a rock-bound canal through the centre of the village street; and thus the water for culinary and other purposes is brought directly to the door of every house on that street.
The wells are made in the shape of barrels of stout staves five or six feet in height. These taper slightly at their lower ends, and are fitted one within another; and as the well is dug; deeper the sections are adjusted and driven down. Wells of great depth are often sunk in this way. The well made in this manner has the appearance, as it projects above the ground, of an ordinary barrel or hogshead partially buried.
Stone curbs of a circular form are often seen. An ancient form of well-curb is a
square frame, made of
thick timber in the shape shown in fig.
287. The Chinese character for well
is in the shape of this frame; and as one rides through the city or village he will often notice this character painted on the side of a house or over a door-way, indicating that in the rear, or within the house, a well is to be found. A picturesque well-curb of stone, made after this form, is shown in fig. 288, from a private garden in Tokio.
While the water is usually brought up by means of a bucket attached to the end of a long bamboo, there are various forms of frames erected over the well to support a pulley, in which
In the country kitchen the well is often within the house, as shown in the sketch fig. 167 (page 186). In the country, as well as in the city, the regular New England well-sweep is now and then seen. In the southern part of Japan particularly the well-sweep is very common; one is shown in the picture of a southern house (fig. 54, page 73).
There are many ways of conveying water to villages by bamboo pipes. In Kioto many places are supplied by water brought in this way from the mountain brooks back of the city. At Miyajima, on the Inland Sea, water is brought, by means of bamboo pipes, from a mountain stream at the western end of the village. The water is first conveyed to a single shallow tank, supported on a rough pedestal of rock. The tank is perforated at intervals along its sides and on its end, and
Just beyond this curious reservoir I saw a group of small aqueducts, evidently for the supply of single houses. Fig. 292 illustrates one of a number of these seen along the road. Fig. 293 represents one of the old wells still seen in the Kaga Yashiki, in Tokio,—an inclosure of large extent formerly occupied by the Daimio of Kaga, but now overgrown with bamboo grass and tangled bushes, while here and there evidences of its former beauty are seen in neglected groves of trees and in
Scattered over this large inclosure are a number of treacherous holes guarded only by fences painted black. These are the remains of wells; and by their number one gets a faint idea of the dense commununity that filled this area in the days of the Shogunate. During the Revolution the houses were burned, and with them the wooden curbs of the wells, and for many years these deep holes formed dreadful pitfalls in the long grass.
The effect of rusticity which the Japanese so much admire, and which they show in their gateways, fences, and other surroundings, is charmingly carried out in the wells; and the presence of a well in a garden is looked
upon as adding greatly to its
beauty. Hence, one sees quaint and picturesque curbs, either of stone and green with plant growth, or of wood and fairly
Having described in the previous pages the permanent features of the house and its surroundings, a few pages may be properly added concerning those objects which are hung upon the walls as adornments. A few objects of household use have been mentioned, such as pillows,
A few pages, however, must be added on the adornments of the room, and the principles which govern the Japanese in these matters. As flowers form the most universal decoration of the rooms from the highest to the lowest classes, these will be first considered.
The love of flowers is a national trait of the Japanese. It would be safe to say that in no other part of the world is the love of flowers so universally shown as in Japan. For pictorial illustration flowers form one of the most common themes; and for decorative art in all its branches flowers, in natural or conventional shapes, are selected as the leading motive. In their light fabrics,—embroidery, pottery, lacquers, wall-papers, fans,—and even in their metal work and bronzes, these charming and perishable objects are constantly depicted and
A room in the very humblest of houses will have in its place of honor—the
The arrangement of flowers forms a part of the polite education of the Japanese, and special rules and methods for their appropriate display have their schools and teachers. Within the house there are special places where it is proper to display flowers. In the
In their flower-vases, too, they show the most perfect knowledge of contrasts. To any one of taste it is unnecessary to show how inappropriate our gilt and often brilliantly colored; flower-vases are for the objects they are to hold. By employing such receptacles, all effects of color and pleasing contrasts are effectually ruined. The Japanese flower-vase is often made of the roughest and coarsest pottery, with rough patches of glaze and irregular contour; it is made solid and heavy, with a good bottom, and is capable of holding a big cherry branch without up-setting. Its very roughness shows off by contrast the delicate flowers it holds. With just such rough material as we use in the making of drain-tiles and molasses jugs, the Japanese make the most fascinating and appropriate flower-vases; but their potters are artists, and, alas! ours are not.
In this connection it is interesting to note that in our country, artists, and others having artistic tastes, have always recognized the importance of observing proper contrasts between flowers and their holders, and until within a very few years have been forced, for want of better receptacles, to arrange flowers in German pottery-mugs, Chinese ginger-jars, and the like. Though these vessels were certainly inappropriate enough, the flowers looked vastly prettier in them than they ever could in the frightful wares designed expressly to hold them, made by American and European manufacturers. What a satire on our art industries,—a despairing resort to beer-mugs, ginger-jars and blacking-pots, for suitable flower-vases! Who does not recall, indeed cannot see to-day on the shelves of most crockery shops,
a hideous battalion of garish porcelain and iniquitous parian vases, besides other multitudinous evidences of utter
Besides the flower-vase made to stand on the floor, the Japanese have others which are made to hang from a hook,—generally from the post or partition that divides the
The Japanese are fond of ancient objects, and jars which have been dug up are often mutilated, at least for the antiquarian, by having rings inserted in their sides so that they may be hung up for flower-holders.
A curious form of holder is made out of a rugged knot of wood. Any quaint and abnormal growth of wood, in which an opening can be made big enough to accommodate a section of bamboo to hold the water, is used for a flower-vase. Such an object will be decorated with tiny bronze ants, a silver spider's web with bronze spider, and pearl wrought in the shape of a fungus. These and other singular caprices are worked into and upon the wood as ornaments.
A very favorite form of flower-holder is one made of bamboo. The bamboo tube is worked in a variety of ways, by cutting out various sections from the sides. Fig. 294 represents an odd, yet common shape, arranged for
Rich brown-colored baskets are also favorite receptacles for flowers, a segment of bamboo being used to hold the water. The accompanying figure (fig. 295) is a sketch of a hanging basket, the flowers having been arranged by a lover of the tea-ceremonies and old pottery. Many of these baskets are quite old, and are highly prized by the Japanese. At the street flower-fairs cheap and curious devices are often seen for holding flower-pots. The annexed figure (fig. 296) illustrates a form of bracket in which a thin irregular-shaped slab of wood has attached to it a crooked branch of a tree, upon the free ends of which wooden blocks are secured as shelves upon which the flower-pots are to rest. A hole is made at the top so that it may be hung against the wall, and little cleats are fastened crosswise to hold long strips of stiff paper, upon which it is customary to write stanzas of poetry. These objects are of the cheapest description, can be got for a few pennies, and are bought by the poorest classes.
For flower-holders suspended from above, a common form is a square wooden bucket, or one made out of pottery or bronze in imitation of this form. Bamboo cut in horizontal forms is also used for suspended flower-holders. Indeed, there seems to be no end of curious objects used for this purpose,—a gourd, the semi-cylindrical tile, sea-shells, as with us, and forms made in pottery or bronze in imitation of these objects.
Quaint and odd-shaped flower-stands are made in the form of buckets. The following figure (fig. 297) represents one
Curious little braided-straw affairs are made to hold flowers, or rather the bamboo segments in which the flowers are kept. These are made in the form of insects, fishes, mushrooms, and other natural objects. These are mentioned, not that they have a special merit, but to illustrate the devices used| by the common people in decorating their homes. Racks of wood richly lacquered are also used, from which hanging flower-holders are suspended. These objects are rarely seen now, and I have never chanced to see one in use.
In the chapter on Interiors various forms of vases are shown in the
My interest in Japanese homes was first aroused by wishing to know precisely what use the Japanese made of a class of objects with which I had been familiar in the Art Museums
and private collections at home; furthermore, a study of their houses led me to search for those evidences of household decoration which might possibly parallel the hanging baskets, corner
After studying the Japanese home for a while, however, one comes to realize that display as such is out of the question with them, and to recognize that a severe Quaker-like simplicity is really one of the great charms of a Japanese room. Absolute cleanliness and refinement, with very few objects in sight upon which the eye may rest contentedly, are the main features in household adornment which the Japanese strive after, and which they attain with a simplicity and effectiveness that we can never hope to reach. Our rooms seem to them like a curiosity shop, and
The pier-glaas is happily unknown in Japan; a small disk of polished metal represents the mirror, and is wisely kept in a box till needed!
stuffy
to the last degree. Such a maze of vases, pictures, plaques, bronzes, with shelves, brackets, cabinets, and tables loaded down with bric-a-brac, is quite enough to drive a Japanese frantic. We parade in the most unreasoning manner every object of this nature in our possession; and with the
That we in America are not exceptional in these matters of questionable furnishing, one may learn by listening to an English authority on this subject,—one who has done more than any other writer in calling attention not only to violations of true taste in household adornment, but who points out in a most rational way the correct paths to follow, not only to avoid that
Hints on Household Taste.
In his animadversions on the commonplace taste shown in the furnishing of English houses, he says it pervades and vitiates the judgment by which we are accustomed to select and approve the objects of every-day use which we see around us. It crosses our path in the Brussels carpet of our drawing-room; it is about our bed in the shape of gaudy chintz; it compels us to rest on chairs, and to sit at tables which are designed in accordance with the worst principles of construction, and invested with shapes confessedly unpicturesque. It sends us metal-work from Birmingham, which is as vulgar in form as it is flimsy in execution. It decorates the finest modern porcelain with the most objectionable character of ornament. It lines our walls with silly representations of vegetable life, or with a mass of uninteresting diaper. It bids us, in short, furnish our houses after the same fashion as we dress ourselves,—and that is with no more sense of real beauty than if art were a dead letter.
Let us contrast our tastes in these matters with those of the Japanese, and perhaps profit
by the lesson.
In the previous chapters sufficient details have been given for one to grasp the structural features of a Japanese room. Let us now observe that the general tone and color of a Japanese apartment are subdued. Its atmosphere is restful; and only after one has sat on the mats for some time do the unostentatious fittings of the apartment attract one's notice. The papers of the
Between the post-hide.
If of wood, both sides are decorated; so that after one side has done duty for awhile the other side is exposed. The wood is usually of dark cedar evenly grained, and the sketch is painted directly on the wood. Fig. 299 shows both sides of one of these strips.
The decoration for these objects is very skilfully treated by the artist; and while it might bother our artists to know what subject to select for a picture on so awkward and limited surface, it offers no trouble to the Japanese decorator. He simply takes a vertical slice out of some good subject, as one might get a glimpse of Nature through a slightly open door,—and imagination is left to supply the rest. These objects find their way to our markets, but the bright color used in their decoration show that they have been painted for the masses in this country. The post upon which this kind of picture is hung, as well as the
A Japanese may have a famous collection of pictures, yet these are stowed away in his
Among the Japanese all collections of pottery and other bric-a-brac are, in the same way as the pictures, carefully enclosed in brocade bags and boxes, and stowed away to be unpacked only when appreciative friends come to the house; and then the host enjoys them with equal delight. Aside from the heightened enjoyment sure to be evoked by the Japanese method, one is spared an infinite amount of chagrin and misery in having an unsophisticated friend become enthusiastic over the wrong thing, or mistake a rare etching of Dante for a North American savage, or manifest a thrill of delight
Nothing is more striking in a Japanese room than the harmonies and contrasts between the colors of the various objects and the room itself. Between the picture and the brocades with which it is mounted, and the quiet and subdued color of the
It is an interesting fact that the efforts at harmonious and decorative effects which have been made by famous artists and decorators in this country and in England have been strongly imbued by the Japanese spirit, and every success attained is a confirmation of the correctness of Japanese taste. Wall-papers are now more quiet and unobtrusive; the merit of simplicity and reserve where it belongs, and a fitness everywhere, are becoming more widely recognized.
It is rare to see cabinets or conveniences for the display of bric-a-brac in a Japanese house, though sometimes a lacquer-stand with a few shelves may be seen,—and on this may be displayed a number of objects consisting of ancient pottery, some stone implements, a fossil, old coins, or a few water-worn fragments of rock brought from China, and mounted on dark wood stands. The Japanese are great collectors of autographs, coins, brocades, metal-work, and many other groups of objects; but these are rarely exposed. In regard to objects in the
Besides the lacquer cabinets, there may be seen in the houses of the higher class an article of furniture consisting of a few deep shelves, with portions of the shelves closed, forming little cupboards. Such a cabinet is used to hold writing-paper, toilet articles, trays for flowers, and miscellaneous objects for use and ornament. These cases are often beautifully lacquered.
The usual form of writing-desk consists of a low stool not over a foot in height, with plain side-pieces or legs for support, sometimes having shallow drawers; and this is about the only piece of furniture that would parallel our table. The illustration (fig. 300) shows one of these tables, upon which may be seen the paper, ink-stone, brush, and brush-rest.
In the cities and large villages the people stand in constant fear of conflagrations. Almost every month they are reminded of the instability of the ground they rest upon by tremors and slight shocks, which may be the precursors of destructive earthquakes, usually accompanied by conflagrations
During the prevalence of a high wind it is a common sight to see the small dealers packing their goods in large baskets and square cloths to tie up ready to transport in case of fire. At such times the windows and doors of the
In drawing to a close this description of Japanese homes and their surroundings, I have to regret that neither time, strength, nor opportunity enabled me to make it more complete by a description, accompanied by sketches, of the residences of the highest classes in Japan. Indeed, it is a question whether any of the old residences of the Daimios remain in the condition in which they were twenty years ago, or before the Revolution. Even where the buildings remain, as in the castles of Nagoya and Kumamoto, busy clerks and secretaries are seen sitting in chairs and writing at tables in foreign style; and though in some cases the beautifully decorated
In Tokio a number of former Daimios have built houses in foreign style, though these somehow or other usually lack the peculiar comforts of our homes. Why a Japanese should build a house in foreign style was somewhat of a puzzle to me, until I saw the character of their homes and the manner in which a foreigner in some cases was likely to behave on entering a Japanese house. If he did not walk into it with his boots on, he was sure to be seen stalking about in his stockinged
It was a happy idea when those Japanese who from their prominence in the affairs of the country were compelled to entertain the foreign barbarian
conceived the idea of erecting a cage in foreign fashion to hold temporarily the menageries which they were often compelled to receive. Seriously, however, the inelastic character of most foreigners, and their inability to adapt themselves to their surroundings have rendered the erection of buildings in foreign style for their entertainment not only a convenience but an absolute necessity. It must be admitted that for the activities of business especially, the foreign style of office and shop is not only more convenient but unquestionably superior.
The former Daimio of Chikuzen was one of the first, I believe, to build a house in foreign style in Tokio, and this building is a good typical example of an American two-story house. Attached, however, to this house is a wing containing a number of rooms in native style. Fig. 123 (page 142) shows one of these rooms. The former Daimio of Hizen also lives in a foreign house, and there are many houses in Tokio built by Japanese after foreign plans.
In an earlier portion of this work an allusion was made to the absence of those architectural monuments which are so
Attention is called to the existence of these remarkable monuments as an evidence that the Japanese are quite competent to erect such buildings, if the national taste had inclined them in that way. So far as I know, a national impulse has never led the Japanese to commemorate great deeds in the nation's life by enduring monuments of stone. The reason may be that the plucky little nation has always been successful in repelling invasion; and a peculiar quality in their temperament has prevented them from perpetuating in a public way, either by monuments or by the naming of streets and bridges, the memories of victories won by one section of the country over another.
Rev. W. E. Griffis, in an interesting article on
Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan, vol. i. p. 20.
The Streets and Street-names of Yedo,
It
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,
Owing to the sensible civil service of England, scholars and diplomates are appointed to these duties in the East; and as a natural result all the honors,—political, commercial, and literary,—have, with few exceptions, been won by Englishmen.
From the translations of ancient Japanese Rituals,
Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan, vol. ix. part ii. p. 191.
Ibid., vol. x. Supplement.
Ibid., vol. iii. part ii. p. 131.
Records of Ancient Matters,
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
and Mr. Chamberlain says the
Kojiki
and Nihongi;
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
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
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
In Anam I noticed that the bed-rooms were indicated by hanging cloth partition as well as by those made of matting.
fin
of the great roof is bent down at the
fins.
Within the house were mats of sedge, skin, and silk, and ornamental screens protect the sleepers from draughts of air.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,—
Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan, vol. vi. part i. p. 109.
whence doubtless the name
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 Tales of Japan,
translated by Mr. Chamberlain,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
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).Satow gives quite a different rendering of this passage.
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,(p. 311).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]
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;
It has been customary to regard the
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.
Ernest Satow, Esq., in an article on the Shin-tō temples of Ise,
Translations of the Asiatic Society of Japan, vol. ii. p. 119.
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
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
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
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
Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan, vol. iii. part ii.
Tosa Diary,
translated by W.
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:—
In Mr. Aston's translation this word is printed 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
heart,
but evidently this must be a misprint.
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
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.
It is lamentable to reflect how many monstrous designs have been perpetrated under the general name of Gothic, which are neither in spirit nor letter realized the character of Mediaeval art. In London these extraordinary ebullitions of uneducated taste generally appear in the form of meeting-houses, music-halls, and similar places of popular resort. Showy in their general effect, and usually overloaded with meretricious ornament, they are likely enough to impose upon an uninformed judgment, which is incapable of discriminating between what Mr. Ruskin has called the Lamp of Sacrifice,
—one of the glories of ancient art,—and the lust of profusion which is the bane of modern design.—
Having got a glimpse, and a slight glimpse only, of the ancient house in Japan, it may be of interest to consider briefly the character of the house in neighboring islands forming part of the Japanese Empire, and also of the house in that country which comes nearest to Japan (Korea), and from which country in the past there have been many both peaceful and compulsory invasions,—compulsory in the fact that when Hideyoshi returned from Korea, nearly three hundred years ago, after his great invasion of that country, he brought back with him to Japan colonies of potters and other artisans.
The Ainos of Yezo naturally claim our attention first, because it is believed that they were the aboriginal people of Japan proper, and were afterwards displaced by the Japanese,—a displacement similar to that of our North American savages by the English colonists. Whether the Ainos are autochthonous or not, will not be discussed here. That they are a savage race, without written language,—a race which formerly occupied the northern part of the main island of Japan, and were gradually forced back to Yezo, where they still live in scattered communities,—are facts which are unquestionable. How far the Aino house to-day represents the ancient Aino house, and how
The Ainos that I saw in the Ishikari valley, on the west coast of Yezo, and from Shiraoi south on the east coast, all spoke Japanese, ate out of lacquer bowls, used chop-sticks, smoked small pipes, drank
Briefly, the Aino house, as I saw it, consists of a rude frame-work of timber supporting a thatched roof; the walls being
Entering the house by the low door, one comes into a room so dark that it is with difficulty one can see anything. The inmates light rolls of birch-bark that one may be enabled to see the interior; but every appearance of neatness and picturesqueness which the hut presented from without vanishes when one gets inside. Beneath one's feet is a hard, damp, earth floor; directly above are the blackened and soot-covered rafters. Poles supported horizontally from these rafters are equally greasy and blackened, and pervading the darkness is a dirty and strong fishy odor. In the middle of the floor, and occupying considerable space, is a square area,—the fireplace. On its two sides mats are spread. A pot hangs over the smoke, for there appears to
Let us now glance at the house of the natives of the Hachijô Islanders, as described by Mr. Dickins and Mr. Satow.
Notes of a visit to Hachijô, in 1878. By F. V. Dickins and Ernest Satow. Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan, vol. vi. part iii. p. 435.
As may readily be supposed, there are no shops or inns on the island, but fair accommodation for travellers can be obtained at the farmers' houses. These are for the most part substantially-built cottages of two or three rooms, with a spacious kitchen, constructed with the timber of
The house and vegetable-garden belonging to it are usually surrounded by a stone wall, or rather bank of stones and earth, often six feet high, designed to protect the buildings from the violent gales which at certain seasons sweep over the island, and which, as we learned, frequently do serious injury to the rice-fields by the quantity of salt spray which they carry a long distance inland from the shore.
From this general description of the house which incidentally accompanies a very interesting sketch of the physical peculiarities of the island, its geology, botany, and the customs and dialect of the people, we get no idea of the special features the house,—as to the fireplace or bed-place; whether there be
As Mr. Satow found in the language of the Hachijô Islander a number of words which appeared to be survivals of archaic Japanese, and also among their customs the curious one, which existed up to within very recent times, of erecting parturition houses,—a feature which is alluded to in the very earliest records of Japan,—a minute description of the Hachijô house with sketches might possibly lead to some facts of interest.
The Loochoo, or Riukiu Islands, now known as Okinawa Shima, lie nearly midway between the southern part of Japan and the Island of Formosa. The people of this group differ
The following extract regarding the house of the Loochooans is taken from an account of a visit to these islands, by Ernest Satow, Esq., published in the first volume of the Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan:
—
The houses of the Loochooans are built in Japanese fashion, with the floor raised three or four feet from the ground, and have mostly only one story, on account of the violent winds which prevail. They are roofed with tiles of a Chinese fashion, very strong and thick. The buildings in which they store their rice are built of wood and thatched with straw. They are supported on wooden posts about five feet high, and resemble the granaries of the Ainos, though constructed with much greater care.
Another extract is here given in regard to the house of the Loochooans, by R. H. Brunton, Esq., published in the
Vol. iv. p. 68.
Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan
:—
The streets in the towns present a most desolate appearance. On each side of these is a blank stone wall of about ten or twelve feet high, with openings in them here and there sufficiently wide to admit of access to the houses which are behind. Every house is surrounded by a wall, and from the street they convey the impression of being prisons rather than ordinary dwellings…
The houses of the well-to-do classes are situated in a yard which is surrounded by a wall ten or twelve feet high, as has been already mentioned. They are similar to the ordinary Japanese houses, with raised floors laid with mats and sliding screens of paper. They are built of wood, and present no peculiar differences from the Japanese style ofconstruction. The roofs are laid with tiles, which however are quite different in shape from the Japanese tiles. Over the joint between two concave tiles a convex one is laid, and these are all semi-circular in cross sections. The tiles are made at Nafa, and are red in color; they appeared of good quality. The houses of the poorer classes are of very primitive character. The roof is covered with a thick thatch, and is supported by four corner uprights about five feet high. The walls consist of sheets of a species of netting made of small bamboo, which contain between them a thickness of about six inches of straw. This encloses the whole sides of the house,—a width of about two feet being left in one side as an entrance. There is no flooring in the houses of any description, and there is generally laid over the mud inside a mat, on which the inmates lie or sit.
Considering the presence for so many centuries of strong Chinese influence which Mr. Brunton sees in the Loochooans, it is rather surprising to find so many features of the Japanese house present in their dwellings. Indeed, Mr. Brunton goes so far as to say that the Loochooan house presents no peculiar differences from the Japanese style of construction; and as he has paid special attention to the constructive features of Japanese buildings, we must believe that had differences existed they would have been noted by him.
It seems to me that the wide distribution of certain identical features in Japanese house-structure, from the extreme north of Japan to the Loochoo Islands, is something remarkable. Here is a people who for centuries lived almost independent provincial lives, the northern and southern provinces speaking different dialects, even the character of the people varying, and yet from Awomori in the north to the southernmost parts of Satsuma, and even farther south to the Loochoos, the use of
Through the courtesy of Percival Lowell, Esq., I am enabled to see advanced sheets of his work on Korea, entitled The Land of the Morning Calm;
and from this valuable work the author has permitted me to gather many interesting facts concerning the Korean dwellings. The houses are of one story; a flight of two or three steps leads to a narrow piazza, or very wide sill, which encircles the entire building. The apartment within is only limited by the size of the building; in other words, there is only one room under the roof. The better class of dwellings, however, consist of groups of these buildings. The house is of wood, and rests upon a stone foundation. This foundation consists of a series of connecting chambers, or flues; and at one side is a large fireplace, or oven, in which the fire is built. The products of combustion circulate through this labyrinth of chambers, and find egress, not by a chimney, but by an outlet on the opposite side. In this way the room above is warmed. There are three different types of this oven-like foundation. In the best type a single slab of stone is supported by a number of stout stone pillars; upon this stone floor is spread a layer of earth, and upon this earth is spread oil-paper like a carpet. In another arrangement, ridges of earth and small stones run lengthwise from front to back; on top of this the same arrangement is made of stone, earth, and oil-paper. In the third type, representing a
The
room does not even begin to get warm until you have passed
through an agonizing interval of expectancy. Then it takes
what seems forever to reach a comfortable temperature, passes
this brief second of happiness before you have had time to
realize that it has attained it, and continues mounting to unknown degrees in a truly alarming manner, beyond the possibility of control.
This curious and ingenious method of warming
houses is said to have been introduced from China some one
hundred and fifty years ago.
A house of the highest order is simply a frame-work,—a roof supported on eight or more posts according to the size of the building; and this with a foundation represents the only fixed structure. In summer it presents a skeleton-like appearance; in winter, however, it appears solid and compact, as a series of folding-doors,—a pair between each two posts,—closes it completely. These are prettily latticed, open outward, and are fastened from within by a hook and knob. By a curious arrangement these doors can be removed from their hinges, the upper parts only remaining attached, and fastened up by hooks to the ceiling. This kind of a house and room is used as a banqueting hall and a room for general entertainment. It may be compared to our drawing-room.
Dwelling-rooms are constructed on quite a different plan. Instead of continuous doors, the sides are composed of permanent walls and doors. The wall is of wood, except that in the poorer house it consists of mud. Says Mr. Lowell: In these buildings we have an elaborate system of three-fold aperture
The house-lining within is oil-paper. Paper covers the ceiling, lines the wall, spreads the floor. As you sit in your room your eye falls upon nothing but paper; and the very light that enables you to see anything at all sifts in through the same
material.
It will be seen by these brief extracts how dissimilar the Korean house is to that of the Japanese. And this dissimilarity is fully sustained by an examination of the photographs which Mr. Lowell made in Korea, and which show among other things low stone-walled houses with square openings for windows, closed by frames covered with paper, the frames hung from above and opening outside, and the roof tiled; also curious thatched roofs, in which the slopes are uneven and rounding, and their ridges curiously knotted or braided, differing in every respect from the many forms of thatched roof in Japan.
The Chinese house, as I saw it in Shanghai and its suburbs, and at Canton as well as up the river, shows differences from the Japanese house quite as striking as those of the Korean house. Here one sees, in the cities at least, solid
From this superficial glance at the character of the house in the outlying Islands of the Japanese Empire, as well as at the houses of the neighboring countries, Korea and China, I think it will be conceded that the Japanese house is typically a product of the people, with just those features from abroad incorporated in it that one might look for, considering the proximity to Japan of China and Korea. When we remember that these three great civilizations of the Mongoloid race approximate within the radius of a few hundred miles, and that they have been in more or less intimate contact since early historic times, we cannot wonder that the germs of Japanese art and letters should have been adopted from the continent. In precisely the same way our ancestors, the English, drew from their continent the material for their language, art, music, architecture, and many other important factors in their civilization; and if history speaks truly, their refinement even in language and etiquette was imported. But while Japan, like England, has modified and developed the germs ingrafted from a greater and older civilization, it has ever preserved the elasticity of youth, and seized upon the good things of our civilization,—such as steam, electricity, and modern methods of study and research,—and utilized them promptly. Far different is it from the mother
It seems to give certain English writers peculiar delight to stigmatize the Japanese as a nation of imitators and copyists. From the contemptuous manner in which disparagements of this nature are flung into the faces of the Japanese who are engaged in their heroic work of establishing sound methods of government and education, one would think that in England had originated the characters by which the English people write, the paper upon which they print, the figures by which they reckon, the compass by which they navigate, the gunpowder by which they subjugate, the religion with which they worship. Indeed, when one looks over the long list of countries upon which England has drawn for the arts of music, painting, sculpture, architecture, printing, engraving, and a host of other things, it certainly comes with an ill-grace from natives of that country to taunt the Japanese with being imitators.
It would be obviously absurd to suggest as a model for our own houses such a structure as a Japanese house. Leaving out the fact that it is not adapted to the rigor of our climate or to the habits of our people, its fragile and delicate fittings if adopted by us, would be reduced to a mass of kindlings in a week, by the rude knocks it would receive; and as for exposing on our public thoroughfares the delicate labyrinth of carvings often seen on panel and post in Japan, the wide-spread vandalism of our country would render futile all such attempts to civilize and refine. Fortunately, in that land which we had in our former ignorance and prejudice regarded as uncivilized, the malevolent form of the vandal
is unknown.
Believing that the Japanese show infinitely greater refinement in their methods of house-adornment than we do, and convinced that their tastes are normally artistic, I have
I do not expect to do much good in thus pointing out what I believe to be better methods, resting on more refined standards. There are some, I am sure, who will approve; but the throng—who are won by tawdry glint and tinsel; who make possible, by admiration and purchase, the horrors of much that is made for house-furnishing and adornment—will, with characteristic obtuseness, call all else but themselves and their own ways heathen and barbarous.
In the following list of Japanese words used in this work an opportunity is given to correct a number of mistakes which crept into, or rather walked boldly into, the text. The author lays no claim to a knowledge of the Japanese language beyond what any foreigner might naturally acquire in being thrown among the people for some time. As far as possible he has followed Hepburn's Japanese Dictionary for orthography and definition, and Brunton's Map of Japan for geographical names. Brunton's map, as well as that published by Rein, spells Settsu with one
The words Samurai, Daimio, Kioto, Tokio, and several others, are now so commonly seen in the periodical literature of our country that this form of spelling for these words has been retained. For rules concerning the pronunciation of Japanese words the reader is referred to the Introduction in Hepburn's Dictionary.