Japanese Girls and Women Part 6

What, it may be asked, are the traits of the samurai which distinguish them, and make them such honored types of the perfect j.a.panese gentleman, so that to live and die worthy the name of samurai was the highest ambition of the soldier? The samurai's duty may be expressed in one word, loyalty,--loyalty to his lord and master, and loyalty to his country,--loyalty so true and deep that for it all human ties, hopes, and affections, wife, children, and home, must be sacrificed if necessary. Those who have read the tale of "The Loyal Ronins"[36]--a story which has been so well told by Mitford, d.i.c.kins, and Greey that many readers must be already familiar with it--will remember that the head councilor and retainer, Ois.h.i.+, in his deep desire for revenge for his lord's unjust death, divorces his wife and sends off his children, that they may not distract his thoughts from his plans; and performs his famous act of revenge without once seeing his wife, only letting her know at his death his faithfulness to her and the true cause of his seeming cruelty. And the wife, far from feeling wronged by such an act, only glories in the loyalty of her husband, who threw aside everything to fulfill his one great duty, even though she herself was his unhappy victim.

[36] _Ronin_ was the term applied to a samurai who had lost his master, and owed no feudal allegiance to any daimio. The exact meaning of the word is _wave-man_, signifying one who wanders to and fro without purpose, like a wave driven by the wind.

The true samurai is always brave, never fearing death or suffering in any form. Life and death are alike to him, if no disgrace is attached to his name.

An incident comes into my mind which may serve as an example of the samurai spirit,--a spirit which has filled the history of j.a.pan with heroic deeds. It is the story of a long siege, at the end of which the little garrison in the besieged castle was reduced to the last stages of endurance, though hourly expecting reinforcement. In this state of affairs, the great question is, whether to wait for the expected aid, or to surrender immediately, and the answer to the question can only be obtained through a knowledge of the enemy's strength. At this juncture, one of the samurai volunteers to steal into the camp of the besiegers, inspect their forces, and report their strength before the final decision is made. He disguises himself, and through various chances is able to penetrate, unsuspected, into the midst of the enemy's camp. He discovers that the besiegers are so weak that they cannot maintain the siege much longer, but while returning to the castle he is recognized and taken by the enemy. His captors give him one chance for escape from the horrible death of crucifixion. He is to go to the edge of the moat, and, standing on an elevated place, shout out to the soldiers that they must surrender, for the forces are too strong for them. He seemingly consents to this, and, led down to the water's edge, he sees across the moat his wife and child, who greet him with demonstrations of joy. To her he waves his hand; then, bravely and loudly, so that it may be heard by friend and foe, he shouts out the true tidings, "Wait for reinforcement at any cost, for the besiegers are weak and will soon have to give up." At these words his enraged enemies seize him and put him to a death of horrible torture, but he smiles in their faces as he tells them the sweetness of such a sacrifice for his master. j.a.panese history abounds with heroic deeds of blood displaying the indomitable courage of the samurai. In the reading of them, we are often reminded of the Spartan spirit of warfare, and samurai women are in some ways very like those Spartan mothers who would rather die than see their sons branded as cowards.

The implicit obedience which samurai gave their lords, when conflicting with feelings of loyalty to their country, often produced two opposing forces which had to be overcome. When the daimio gave orders that the keener-sighted retainer felt would not be for the good of the house, he had either to disobey his lord, or act against his feeling of loyalty.

Divided between the two duties, the samurai would usually do as he thought right for his country or his lord, disobeying his master's orders; write a confession of his real motives; and save his name from disgrace by committing suicide. By this act he would atone for his disobedience, and his loyalty would never be questioned.

The now abolished custom of _hara-kiri_, or the voluntary taking of one's life to avoid disgrace, and blot out entirely or partially the stain on an honorable name, is a curious custom which has come down from old times. The ancient heroes stabbed themselves as calmly as they did their enemies, and women as well as men knew how to use the short sword[37] worn always at the side of the samurai, his last and easy escape from shame.

[37] The samurai always wore two swords, a long one for fighting only, and a short one for defense when possible, but, as a last resort, for _hara-kiri_. The sword is the emblem of the samurai spirit, and as such is respected and honored. A samurai took pride in keeping his swords as sharp and s.h.i.+ning as was possible. He was never seen without the two swords, but the longer one he removed and left at the front door when he entered the house of a friend. To use a sword badly, to harm or injure it, or to step over it, was considered an insult to the owner.

The young men of this cla.s.s, as well as their masters, the daimios, were early instructed in the method of this self-stabbing, so that it might be cleanly and easily done, for a b.l.o.o.d.y and unseemly death would not redound to the honor of the suicide. The fatal cut was not instantaneous in its effect, and there was always opportunity for that display of courage--that show of disregard for death or pain--which was expected of the brave man.

The _hara-kiri_ was of course a last resort, but it was an honorable death. The vulgar criminal must be put to death by the hands of others, but the n.o.bler samurai, who never cares to survive disgrace, was condemned to _hara-kiri_ if found guilty of actions worthy of death. Not to be allowed to do this, but to be executed in the common way, was a double disgrace to a samurai. Even to this day, when crimes such as the a.s.sa.s.sination of a minister of state are committed, in the mistaken belief that the act is for the good of the country, the idea on the part of the a.s.sa.s.sin is never to escape detection. He calmly gives himself up to justice or takes his own life,[38] stating his motive for the deed; and, believing himself justified in the act, is willing that his life should be the cost.

[38] Kurus.h.i.+ma, who attempted to take the life of Ok.u.ma, the late Minister of Foreign Affairs, as recently as 1889, committed suicide immediately after throwing the dynamite bomb which caused the minister the loss of his leg. This was the more remarkable in that, at the time of his death, the a.s.sa.s.sin supposed that his victim had escaped all injury.

The old samurai was proud of his rank, his honorable vocation, his responsibility; proud of his ignorance of trade and barter and of his disregard for the sordid cares of the world, regarding as far beneath him all occupations but those of arms. Wealth, as artisan or farmer, rarely tempted him to sink into the lower ranks; and his support from the daimio, often a mere pittance, insured to him more respect and greater privileges than wealth as a heimin. To this day even, this feeling exists. Preference for rank or position, rather than for mere salary, remains strongly among the present generation, so that official positions are more sought after than the more lucrative occupations of trade. j.a.pan is flooded with small officials, and yet the samurai now is obliged to lay down his sword and devote his time to the once despised trades, and to learn how important are the arts of peace compared with those of war.

The dislike of anything suggestive of trade or barter--of services and actions springing, not from duty and from the heart, but from the desire of gain--has strongly tinted many little customs of the day, often misunderstood and misconstrued by foreigners. In old j.a.pan, experience and knowledge could not be bought and sold. Physicians did not charge for their services, but on the contrary would decline to name or even receive a compensation from those in their own clan. Patients, on their side, were too proud to accept services free, and would send to the physicians, not as pay exactly, but more as a gift or a token of grat.i.tude, a sum of money which varied according to the means of the giver, as well as to the amount of service received. Daimios did not send to ask a teacher how much an hour his time was worth, and then arrange the lessons accordingly; the teacher was not insulted by being expected to barter his knowledge for so much filthy lucre, but was merely asked whether his time and convenience would allow of his taking extra teaching. The request was made, not as a matter of give and take, but a favor to be granted. Due compensation, however, would never fail to be made,--of this the teacher could be sure,--but no agreement was ever considered necessary.

With this feeling yet remaining in j.a.pan,--this dislike of contracts, and exact charges for professional services,--we can imagine the inward disgust of the samurai at the business-like habits of the foreigners with whom he has to deal. On the other hand, his feelings are not appreciated by the foreigner, and his actions clash with the European and American ideas of independence and self-respect. In j.a.pan a present of money is more honorable than pay, whereas in America pay is much more honorable than a present.

The samurai of to-day is rapidly imbibing new ideas, and is learning to see the world from a Western point of view; but his thoughts and actions are still moulded on the ideas of old j.a.pan, and it will be a long time before the loyal, faithful, but proud spirit of the samurai will die out. The pride of clan is now changed to pride of race; loyalty to feudal chief has become loyalty to the Emperor as sovereign; and the old traits of character exist under the European costumes of to-day, as under the flowing robes of the two-sworded retainer.

It is this same spirit of loyalty that has made it hard for Christianity to get a foothold in j.a.pan. The Emperor was the representative of the G.o.ds of j.a.pan. To embrace a new religion seemed a desertion of him, and the following of the strange G.o.ds of the foreigner. The work of the Catholic missionaries which ended so disastrously in 1637 has left the impression that a Christian is bound to offer allegiance to the Pope in much the same way as the Emperor now receives it from his people; and the bitterness of such a thought has made many refuse to hear what Christianity really is. Such words as "King" and "Lord" they have understood as referring to temporal things, and it has taken years to undo this prejudice; a feeling in no way surprising when we consider how the Jesuit missionaries once interfered with political movements in j.a.pan.

So bitter was this feeling, when j.a.pan was first opened, that a native Christian was at once branded as a traitor to his country, and very severe was the persecution against all Christians. Missionaries at one time dared not acknowledge themselves as such, and lived in danger of their lives; and the j.a.panese Christian who remained faithful did so knowing that he was despised and hated. I know of one mother who, finding command and entreaty alike unavailing to move her son, a convert to the new religion, threatened to commit suicide, feeling that the disgrace which had fallen on the family could only be wiped out with her death. Happily, all this is of the past, and to-day the samurai has found that he can reconcile the new religion with his loyalty to j.a.pan, and that in receiving the one he is not led to betray the other.

The women of the samurai have shared with the men the responsibilities of their rank, and the pride that comes from hereditary positions of responsibility. A woman's first duty in all ranks of society is obedience; but sacrifice of self, in however horrible a way, was a duty most cheerfully and willingly performed, when by such sacrifice father, husband, or son might be the better able to fulfill his duty towards his feudal superior. The women in the daimios' castles who were taught fencing, drilled and uniformed, and relied upon to defend the castle in case of need, were women of this cla.s.s,--women whose husbands and fathers were soldiers, and in whose veins ran the blood of generations of fighting ancestors. Gentle, feminine, delicate as they were, there was a possibility of martial prowess about them when the need for it came; and the long education in obedience and loyalty did not fail to produce the desired results. Death, and ignominy worse than death, could be met bravely, but disgrace involving loss of honor to husband or feudal lord was the one thing that must be avoided at all hazards. It was my good fortune, many years ago, to make the acquaintance of a little j.a.panese girl who had lived in the midst of the siege of Wakamatsu, the city in which the Shogun's forces made their last stand for their lord and the system that he represented. As the Emperor's forces marched upon the castle town, moat after moat was taken,[*209]

until at last men, women, and children took refuge within the citadel itself to defend it until the last gasp. The bombs of the besiegers fell cras.h.i.+ng into the castle precincts, killing the women as they worked at whatever they could do in aid of the defenders; and even the little girls ran back and forth, amid the rain of bullets and b.a.l.l.s, carrying cartridges, which the women were making within the castle, to the men who were defending the walls. "Weren't you afraid?" we asked the delicate child, when she told us of her own share in the defense. "No,"

was the answer. A small but dangerous sword, of the finest j.a.panese steel, was shown us as the sword that she wore in her belt during all those days of war and tumult. "Why did you wear the sword?" we asked.

"So that I would have it if I was taken prisoner." "What would you have done with it?" was the next question, for we could not believe that a child of eight would undertake to defend herself against armed soldiers with that little sword. "I would have killed myself," was the answer, with a flash of the eye that showed her quite capable of committing the act in case of need.

In the olden times, when the spirit of warfare was strong and justice but scantily administered, revenge for personal insult, or for the death of father or lord, fell upon the children, or the retainers. Sometimes the b.l.o.o.d.y deed has fallen to the lot of a woman, to some weak and feeble girl, who, in many a tale, has braved all the difficulties that beset a woman's path, devoted her life to an act of vengeance, and, with the courage of a man, has often successfully consummated her revenge.

One of the tales of old j.a.pan, and a favorite subject of theatrical representation, is the death and revenge of a lady in a daimio's palace.

Onoye, a daughter of the people, child of a merchant, has by chance risen to the position of lady-in-waiting to a daimio's wife,--a thing so uncommon that it has roused the jealousy of the other ladies, who are of the samurai cla.s.s. Iwafuji, one of the highest and proudest ladies at the court, takes pains on every occasion to insult and torment the poor, unoffending Onoye, whom she cannot bear to have as an a.s.sociate. She constantly reminds her of her inferior birth, and at last challenges her to a trial in fencing, in which accomplishment Onoye is not proficient, having lacked the proper training in her early life. At last the hatred and anger of Iwafuji culminate in a frenzy of rage; she forgets herself, and strikes the meek and gentle Onoye with her sandal,--the worst insult that could be offered to any one.

Onoye, overcome by this deep disgrace offered her in public, returns from the main palace to her own apartments, and ponders long and deeply, in the bitterness of her soul, how to wipe out the disgrace of an insult by such an enemy.

Her own faithful maid, seeing her disordered hair and anxious looks, perceives some secret trouble, which her mistress will not disclose, and tries, while performing her acts of service, to dispel the gloom by telling gayly all the gossip of the day. This maid, O Haru, is a type of the clever faithful servant. She is really of higher birth than her mistress, for, though she has been obliged to go out to service, she was born of a samurai family. Onoye, while listening to the talk of her servant, has made up her mind that only one thing can blot out her disgrace, and that is to commit suicide. She hastily pens a farewell to her family, for the deed must not be delayed, and sends with the letter the token of her disgrace,--Iwafuji's sandal, which she has kept. O Haru is sent on this errand, and, unconscious of the ill-news she is bearing, she starts out. On the way, the ominous croak of the ravens, who are making a dismal noise,--a presage of ill-luck,--frightens the observant O Haru. A little further on, the strap of her clog breaks,--a still more alarming sign. Thoroughly frightened, O Haru turns back, and reaches her mistress' room in time to find that the fatal deed is done, and her mistress is dying. O Haru is heart-broken, learns the whole truth, and vows vengeance on the enemy of her loved mistress.

O Haru, unlike Onoye, is thoroughly trained in fencing. An occasion arises when she returns to Iwafuji in public the malicious blow, and with the same sandal, which she has kept as a sign of her revenge. She then challenges Iwafuji, in behalf of the dead, to a trial in fencing.

The haughty Iwafuji is forced to accept, and is thoroughly defeated and shamed before the spectators. The whole truth is now made known, and the daimio, who admires and appreciates the spirit of O Haru, sends for her, and raises her from her low position to fill the post of her dead mistress.

These stories show the spirit of the samurai women; they can suffer death bravely, even joyfully, at their own hands or the hands of husband or father, to avoid or wipe out any disgrace which they regard as a loss of honor; but they will as bravely and patiently subject themselves to a life of shame and ignominy, worse than death, for the sake of gaining for husband or father the means of carrying out a feudal obligation.

There is a pathetic scene, in one of the most famous of the j.a.panese historical dramas, in which one seems to get the moral perspective of the ideal j.a.panese woman, as one cannot get it in any other way. The play is founded on the story of "The Loyal Ronins," referred to in the beginning of this chapter. The loyal ronins are plotting to avenge the death of their master upon the daimio whose cupidity and injustice have brought it about. As there is danger of disloyalty even in their own ranks, Ois.h.i.+, the leader of the dead daimio's retainers, displays great caution in the selection of his fellow-conspirators, and practices every artifice to secure absolute secrecy for his plans. One young man, who was in disgrace with his lord at the time of his death, applies to be admitted within the circle of conspirators; but as it is suspected that he may not be true to the cause, a payment in money is exacted from him as a pledge of his honorable intentions. It is thus made his first duty to redeem his honor from all suspicion by the payment of the money, in order that he may perform his feudal obligation of avenging the death of his lord. But the young man is poor; he has married a poor girl, and has agreed to support not only his wife, but her old parents as well, and the payment is impossible for him. In this emergency, his wife, at the suggestion of her parents, proposes, as the only way, to sell herself, for a term of two years, to the proprietor of a house of pleasure, that she may by this vile servitude enable her husband to escape the dishonor that must come to him if he fails to fulfill his feudal duty.

Negotiations are entered into, the contract is made, and an advance payment is given which will furnish money enough for the pledge required by the conspirators. All this is done without the knowledge of the husband, lest his love for his wife and his grief for the sacrifice prevent him from accepting the only means left to prove his loyalty. The n.o.ble wife even plans to leave her home while he is away on a hunting expedition, and so spare him the pain of parting. His emotion upon learning of this venture in business is not of wrath at the disgrace that has overtaken his family, but simply of grief that his wife and her parents must make so great a sacrifice to save his honor. It is a terrible affliction, but it is not a disgrace in any way parallel to the disgrace of disloyalty to his lord. And the heroic wife, when the men come to carry her away, is upheld through all the trying farewells by the consciousness that she is making as n.o.ble a sacrifice of herself as did the wife of Yamato Dake when she leaped into the sea to avert the wrath of the sea-G.o.d from her husband. The j.a.panese, both men and women, knowing this story and many others similar in character, can see, as we cannot from our point of view, that, even if the body be defiled, there is no defilement of the soul, for the woman is fulfilling her highest duty in sacrificing all, even her dearest possession, for the honor of her husband. It is a climax of self-abnegation that brings nothing but honor to the soul of her who reaches it. j.a.panese women who read this story feel profound pity for the poor wife, and a horror of a sacrifice that binds her to a life which outwardly, to the j.a.panese mind even, is the lowest depth a woman ever reaches. But they do not despise her for the act; nor would they refuse to receive her even were she to appear in living form to-day in any j.a.panese home, where, thanks to happier fortunes, such sacrifices are not demanded. Just at this point is the difference of moral perspective that foreigners visiting j.a.pan find so hard to understand, and that leads many, who have lived in the country the longest, to believe that there is no modesty and purity among j.a.panese women. It is this that makes it possible for the vilest of stories, and those that have the least foundation in fact, to find easy belief among foreigners, even if they be told about the purest, most high-minded, and most honorable of j.a.panese women. Our maidens, as they grow to womanhood, are taught that anything is better than personal dishonor, and their maidenly instincts side with the teaching. With us, a virtuous woman does not mean a brave, a heroic, an unselfish, or self-sacrificing woman, but means simply one who keeps herself from personal dishonor. Chast.i.ty is the supreme virtue for a woman; all other virtues are secondary compared with it. This is our point of view, and the whole perspective is arranged with that virtue in the foreground.

Dismiss this for a moment, and consider the moral training of the j.a.panese maiden. From earliest youth until she reaches maturity, she is constantly taught that obedience and loyalty are the supreme virtues, which must be preserved even at the sacrifice of all other and lesser virtues. She is told that for the good of father or husband she must be willing to meet any danger, endure any dishonor, perpetrate any crime, give up any treasure. She must consider that nothing belonging solely to herself is of any importance compared with the good of her master, her family, or her country. Place this thought of obedience and loyalty, to the point of absolute self-abnegation, in the foreground, and your perspective is altered, the other virtues occupying places of varying importance. Because a j.a.panese woman will sometimes sacrifice her personal virtue for the sake of father or husband, does it follow that all j.a.panese women are unchaste and impure? In many cases this sacrifice is the n.o.blest that she believes possible, and she goes to it, as she would go to death in any dreadful form, for those whom she loves, and to whom she owes the duty of obedience. The j.a.panese maiden grows to womanhood no less pure and modest than our own girls, but our girls are never called upon to sacrifice their modesty for the sake of those whom they love best; nor is it expected of any woman in this country that she exist solely for the good of some one else, in whatever way he chooses to use her, during all the years of her life. Let us take this difference into our thought in forming our judgment, and let us rather seek the causes that underlie the actions than pa.s.s judgment upon the actions themselves. From a close study of the characters of many j.a.panese women and girls, I am quite convinced that few women in any country do their duty, as they see it, more n.o.bly, more single-mindedly, and more satisfactorily to those about them, than the women of j.a.pan.

Many argue that the purity of j.a.panese women, as compared with the men, the ready obedience which they yield, their sweet characters and unselfish devotion as wives and mothers, are merely the results of the restraint under which they live, and that they are too weak to be allowed to enjoy freedom of thought and action. Whether this be true or no is a point which we leave for others to take up, as time shall have provided new data for reasoning on the subject.

To me, the sense of duty seems to be strongly developed in the j.a.panese women, especially in those of the samurai cla.s.s. Conscience seems as active, though often in a different manner, as the old-fas.h.i.+oned New England conscience, transmitted through the bluest of Puritan blood. And when a duty has once been recognized as such, no timidity, or mortification, or fear of ridicule will prevent the performance of it. A case comes to my mind now of a young girl of sixteen, who made public confession before her schoolmates of shortcomings of which none of them knew, for the sake of easing her troubled conscience and warning her schoolmates against similar errors. The circ.u.mstances were as follows: The young girl had recently lost her grandmother, a most loving and affectionate old lady, who had taken the place of a mother to the child from her earliest infancy. In a somewhat unhappy home, the love of the old grandmother was the one bright spot; and when she was taken away, the poor, lonely child's memory recalled all of her own shortcomings to this beloved friend; and, too late to make amendment to the old lady herself, she dwelt on her own undutifulness, and decided that she must by some means do penance, or make atonement for her fault. She might, if she made a confession before her schoolmates, warn them against similar mistakes; and accordingly she prepared, for the literary society in which the girls took what part they chose, a long confession, written in poetical style, and read it before her schoolmates and teachers. It was a terrible ordeal, as one could see by the blus.h.i.+ng face and breaking voice, often choked with sobs; and when at the conclusion she urged her friends to behave in such a way to their dear ones that they need never suffer what she had had to endure since her grandmother's death, there was not a dry eye in the room, and many of the girls were sobbing aloud. It was a curious expiation and a touching one, but one not in the least exceptional or uncharacteristic of the spirit of duty that actuates the best women of the samurai cla.s.s.

Here is another instance which ill.u.s.trates this sense of duty, and desire of atoning for past mistakes or sins. At the time of the overthrow of the feudal system, the samurai, bred to loyalty to their own feudal superiors as their highest duty, found themselves ranged on different sides in the struggle, according to the positions in which their lords placed themselves. At the end of the struggle, those who had followed their daimios to the field, in defense of the Shogunate, found that they had been fighting against the Emperor, the Son of Heaven himself, who had at last emerged from the seclusion of centuries to govern his own empire. Thus the supporters of the Shogunate, while absolutely loyal to their daimios, had been disloyal to the higher power of the Emperor; and had put themselves in the position of traitors to their country. There was a conflict of principles there somewhat similar to that which took place in our Civil War, when, in the South, he who was true to his State became a traitor to his country, and he who was true to his country became a traitor to his State. Two ladies of the finest samurai type had, with absolute loyalty to a lost cause, aided by every means in their power in the defense of the city of Wakamatsu against the victorious forces of the Emperor. They had held on to the bitter end, and had been banished, with others of their family and clan, to a remote province, for some years after the end of the war. In 1877, eleven years after the close of the War of the Restoration, a rebellion broke out in the south which required a considerable expenditure of blood and money for its suppression. When the new war began, these two ladies presented a pet.i.tion to the government, in which they begged that they might be allowed to make amends for their former position of opposition to the Emperor, by going with the army to the field as hospital nurses. At that time, no lady in j.a.pan had ever gone to the front to nurse the wounded soldiers; but to those two brave women was granted the privilege of making atonement for past disloyalty, by the exercise of the skill and nerve that they had gained in their experience of war against the Emperor, in the nursing of soldiers wounded in his defense.[*223]

In the old days, the women of the samurai cla.s.s fulfilled most n.o.bly the duties that fell to their lot. As wives and mothers in time of peace, they performed their work faithfully in the quiet of their homes; and, their time filled with household cares, they busied themselves with the smaller duties of life. As the wives and mothers of soldiers, they cultivated the heroic spirit befitting their position, fearing no danger save such as involved disgrace. As the home-guard in time of need, they stood ready to defend their master's possessions with their own lives; as gentlewomen and ladies-in-waiting at the court of the daimio or the Shogun, they cultivated the arts and accomplishments required for their position, and veiled the martial spirit that dwelt within them under an exterior as feminine, as gracious, as cultivated and charming, as that of any ladies of Europe or America. To-day in the new j.a.pan, where the samurai have no longer their yearly allowance from their lords and their feudal duties, but, scattered through the whole nation, are engaged in all the arts and trades, and are infusing the old spirit into the new life, what are the women doing? As the government of the land to-day lies in the hands of the samurai men under the Emperor, so the progress of the women, the new ideas of work for women, are in the hands of the samurai women, led by the Empress. Wherever there is progress among the women, wherever they are looking about for new opportunities, entering new occupations, elevating the home, opening hospitals, industrial schools, asylums, there you will find the leading spirits always of the samurai cla.s.s. In the recent changes, some of this cla.s.s have risen above their former state and joined the ranks of the n.o.bility; and there the presence of the samurai spirit infuses new life into the aristocracy. So, too, the changes that have raised some have lowered others, and the samurai is now to be found in the formerly despised occupations of trade and industry, among the merchants, the farmers, the fishermen, the artisans, and the domestic servants. But wherever his lot is cast, the old training, the old ideals, the old pride of family, still keep him separate from his present rank, and, instead of pulling him down to the level of those about him, tend to raise that level by the example of honor and intelligence that he sets. The changed fortunes were not met without a murmur. Most of the outrages, the reactionary movements, the riots and inflammatory speeches and writings, that characterized the long period of disquiet following the Restoration, came from men of this cla.s.s, who saw their support taken from them, leaving them unable to dig and ashamed to beg. But the greater part of them went st.u.r.dily to work, in government positions if they could get them, in the army, on the police force, on the farm, in the shop, at trades, at service,--even to the humble work of wheeling a _jinrikisha_, if other honest occupation could not be found; and the women shared patiently and bravely the changed fortunes of the men, doing whatever they could toward bettering them. The samurai women to-day are eagerly working into the positions of teachers, interpreters, trained nurses, and whatever other places there are which may be honorably occupied by women. The girls' schools, both government and private, find many of their pupils among the samurai cla.s.s; and their deference and obedience to their teachers and superiors, their ambition and keen sense of honor in the school-room, show the influence of the samurai feeling over new j.a.pan. To the samurai women belongs the task--and they have already begun to perform it--of establis.h.i.+ng upon a broader and surer foundation the position of women in their own country.

They, as the most intelligent, will be the first to perceive the remedy for present evils, and will, if I mistake not, move heaven and earth, at some time in the near future, to have that remedy applied to their own case. Most of them read the literature of the day, some of them in at least one language beside their own; a few have had the benefit of travel abroad, and have seen what the home and the family are in Christian lands. There is as much of the unconquerable spirit of the samurai to-day in the women as in the men; and it will not be very long before that spirit will begin to show itself in working for the establishment of their homes and families upon some stronger basis than the will of the husband and father.

CHAPTER IX.

PEASANT WOMEN.

The great heimin cla.s.s includes not only the peasants of j.a.pan, but also the artisans and merchants; artisans ranking below farmers, and merchants below artisans, in the social structure. It includes the whole of the common people, except such as were in former times altogether below the level of respectability, the _eta_ and _hinin_,[39]--outcasts who lived by begging, slaughtering animals, caring for dead bodies, tanning skins, and other employments which rendered them unclean according to the old notions. From very early times the agricultural cla.s.s has been sharply divided from the samurai or military. Here and there one from the peasantry mounts by force of his personal qualities into the higher ranks, for there is no caste system that prevents the pa.s.sing from one cla.s.s into another,--only a cla.s.s prejudice that serves very nearly the same purpose, in keeping samurai and heimin in their places, that the race prejudice in this country serves in confining the negroes, North and South, to certain positions and occupations. The first division of the military from the peasantry occurred in the eighth century, and since then the peculiar circ.u.mstances of each cla.s.s have tended to produce quite different characteristics in persons originally of the same stock. To the soldier cla.s.s have fallen learning, skill in arms and horsemans.h.i.+p, opportunities to rise to places of honor and power, lives free from sordid care in regard to the daily rice, and in which n.o.ble ideas of duty and loyalty can spring up and bear fruit in heroic deeds. To the peasant, tilling his little rice-field year after year, have come the heavy burdens of taxation; the grinding toil for a mere pittance of food for himself and his family; the patient bearing of all things imposed by his superiors, with little hope of gain for himself, whatever change the fortunes of war may bring to those above him in the social scale. Is there wonder that, as the years have gone by, his wits have grown heavy under his daily drudgery; that he knows little and understands less of the changes that are taking place in his native land; that he is easily moved by only one thing, and that the failure of his crops, or the shortening of his returns from his land by heavier taxation? This is true of the heimin as a cla.s.s: they are conservative, fearing that change will but tend to make harder a lot that is none too easy; and though peaceable and gentle usually, they may be moved to blind acts of riot and bloodshed by any political change that seems likely to produce heavier taxation, or even by a failure of their crops, when they see themselves and their families starving while the military and official cla.s.ses have enough and to spare. But though, as a cla.s.s, the farmers are ignorant and heavy, they are seldom entirely illiterate; and everywhere, throughout the country, one finds men belonging to this cla.s.s who are well educated and have risen to positions of much responsibility and power, and are able to hold their own, and think for themselves and for their brethren. From an article in the "Tokyo Mail," ent.i.tled "A Memorialist of the Latter Days of the Tokugawa Government," I quote pa.s.sages which show the thoughts of one of the heimin upon the condition of his own cla.s.s about the year 1850. It is from a pet.i.tion sent to the Shogun by the head-man of the village of Ogus.h.i.+.

[39] The laws against the _eta_ and _hinin_, making of them a distinct, unclean cla.s.s, and forbidding their intermarriage with any of the higher cla.s.ses, have recently been abolished. There is now no rank distinction of any practical value, except that between n.o.ble and common people.

Heimin and samurai are now indiscriminately mingled.

The first point in the pet.i.tion is, that there is a growing tendency to luxury among the military and official cla.s.ses. "It is useless to issue orders commanding peasants and others to be frugal and industrious, when those in power, whose duty it is to show a good example to the people, are themselves steeped in luxury and idleness." He ventures to reproach the Shoguns themselves by pointing to the extravagance with which they have decorated the mausoleums at Nikko and elsewhere. "Is this," he asks, "in keeping with the intentions of the glorious founder of your dynasty? Look at the shrines in Ise and elsewhere, and at the sepulchres of the Emperors of successive ages. Is gold or silver used in decorating them?" He then turns to the va.s.sals of the Shogun, and charges them with being tyrannical, rapacious, and low-minded. "Samurai," he continues,--"samurai are finely attired, but how contemptible they look in the eyes of those peasants who know how to be contented with what they have!"

Further on in the same memorial, he points out what he regards as a grave mistake in the policy of the Shogun. A decree had just been issued prohibiting the peasantry from exercising themselves with sword-play, and from wearing swords. Of this he says: "Perhaps this decree may have been issued on the supposition that j.a.pan is naturally impregnable and defended on all sides. But when she receives insult from a foreign country, it may become necessary to call on the militia. And who knows that men of extraordinary military genius, like Toyotomi,[40] will not again appear among the lower cla.s.ses?"

[40] Toyotomi Hideyos.h.i.+, a peasant boy, rose from the position of a groom to be the actual ruler of j.a.pan during the Middle Ages. He it was who in 1587 issued a decree of banishment against the Christian missionaries in j.a.pan. He is called Faxiba in the writings of these missionaries, and in j.a.pan he is frequently spoken of as Taiko Sama, a t.i.tle, not a name; but a t.i.tle that, used alone, refers always to him.

For further account of his life, see Griffis, _Mikado's Empire_, book i., chap. xxiv.

He ends his memorial with this warning: "Should the Shogun's court, and the military cla.s.s in general, persist in the present oppressive way of government, Heaven will visit this land with still greater calamities.

If this circ.u.mstance is not clearly kept in view, the consequence may be civil disturbance. I, therefore, beseech that the instructions of the glorious founder of the dynasty be acted upon; that simplicity and frugality be made the guiding principle of administration; and that a general amnesty be proclaimed, thereby complying with the will of Heaven and placating the people. Should these humble suggestions of mine be acted upon, prospective calamities will fly before the light of virtue.

Whether the country is to be safe or not depends upon whether the administration is carried on with mercy or not. What I pray for is, that the country may enjoy peace and tranquillity, that the harvest may be plentiful, and that the people may be happy and prosperous."

One is able to see, by this rather remarkable doc.u.ment, that the peasants of j.a.pan, though frequently almost crushed by the heavy burdens of taxation, do not, even in the most grinding poverty, lose entirely that independence of thought and of action which is characteristic of their nation. They do not consider themselves as a servile cla.s.s, nor their military rulers as beyond criticism or reproach, but are ready to speak boldly for their rights whenever an opportunity occurs. There is a pathetic story, told in Mitford's "Tales of Old j.a.pan," of a peasant, the head-man of his village, who goes to Yedo to present to the Shogun a complaint, on behalf of his fellow-villagers, of the extortions and exactions of his daimio. He is unable to get any one to present his memorial to the Shogun, so at last he stops the great lord's palanquin in the street,--an act in itself punishable with death,--and thrusts the paper forcibly into his hand. The pet.i.tion is read, and his fellow-villagers saved from further oppression, but the head-man, for his daring, is condemned by his own daimio to suffer death by crucifixion,--a fate which he meets with the same heroism with which he dared everything to save his fellows from suffering.

The peasant, though ignorant and oppressed, has not lost his manhood; has not become a slave or a serf, but clings to his rights, so far as he knows what they are; and is ready to hold his own against all comers, when the question in debate is one that appeals to his mind. The rulers of j.a.pan have always the peasantry to reckon with when their ruling becomes unjust or oppressive. They cannot be cowed, though they may be misled for a time, and they form a conservative element that serves to hold in check too hasty rulers who would introduce new measures too quickly, and would be likely to find the new wine bursting the old bottles, as well as to prevent any rash extravagance in the way of personal expenditure on the part of government officials. The influence of this great cla.s.s will be more and more felt as the new parliamentary inst.i.tutions gain in power, and a more close connection is established between the throne and public opinion.

In considering this great heimin cla.s.s, it is well to remember that the artisans, who form so large a part of it, are also the artists who have made the reputation of j.a.pan, in Europe and America, as one of the countries where art and the love of beauty in form and color are still instinct with life. The j.a.panese artisan works with patient toil, and with the skill and originality of the artist, to produce something that shall be individual and his own; not simply to make, after a pattern, some utensil or ornament for which he cares nothing, so long as a purchaser can be found for it, or an employer can be induced to pay him money for making it. It seems as easy for the j.a.panese to make things pretty and in good taste, even when they are cheap and only used by the poorer people, as it is for American mills and workers to turn out endless varieties of attempts at decoration,--all so hideous that a poor person must be content, either to be surrounded by the worst possible taste, or to purchase only such furnis.h.i.+ngs and utensils as are entirely without decoration of any kind. "Cheap" and "nasty" have come to be almost synonymous words with us, for the reason that taste in decoration is so rare that it commands a monopoly price, and can only be procured by the wealthy. In j.a.pan this is not the case, for the cheapest of things may be found in graceful and artistic designs,--indeed can hardly be found in any designs that are not graceful and artistic; and the poorest and commonest of the people may have about them the little things that go to cultivate the aesthetic part of human nature. It was not the costly art of j.a.pan that interested me the most, although that is, of course, the most wonderful proof of the capacity and patience of individuals among this heimin cla.s.s: but it was the common, cheap, every-day art that meets one at every turn; the love for the beautiful, in both nature and art, that belongs to the common coolie as well as to the n.o.bleman. The cheap prints, the blue and white towels, the common teacups and pots, the great iron kettles in use over the fire in the farmhouse kitchen,--all these are things as pretty and tasteful in their way as the rich crepes, the silver incense burners, the delicate porcelain, and the elegant lacquer that fill the storehouse of the daimio; and they show, much more conclusively than these costlier things, the universal sense of beauty among the people.

The artisan works at his home, helped less often by hired laborers than by his own children, who learn the trade of their father; and his house, though small, is clean and tasteful, with its soft mats, its dainty tea service, its little hanging scroll upon the walls, and its vase of gracefully arranged flowers in the corner; for flowers, even in winter and in the great city of Tokyo, are so cheap that they are never beyond the reach of the poorest. In homes that seem to the foreign mind utterly lacking in the comforts and even the necessities of life, one finds the few furnis.h.i.+ngs and utensils beautiful in shape and decoration; and the money that in this country must be spent in beds, tables, and chairs can be used for the purchase of _kakemonos_, flowers, and vases, and for various gratifications of the aesthetic taste. Hence it is that the j.a.panese laborer, who lives on a daily wage which would reduce an American or European to the verge of starvation, finds both time and money for the cultivation of that sense of beauty which is too often crushed completely out of the lower cla.s.ses by the burdens of this nineteenth century civilization which they bear upon their shoulders. To the j.a.panese, the "life is more than meat," it is beauty as well; and this love of beauty has upon him a civilizing and refining effect, and makes him in many ways the superior of the American day-laborer.[*239]

The peasants and farmers of j.a.pan, thrifty and hard-working as they are, are not by any means a prosperous cla.s.s. As one pa.s.ses into the country districts from the large cities, there seems to be a conspicuous dearth of neat, pleasant homes,--a lack of the comforts and necessities of life such as are enjoyed by city people. The rich farmers are scarce, and the laborers in the rice-fields hardly earn, from days of hardest toil with the rudest implements, the little that will provide for their families.

In the face of heavy taxes, the incessant toil, the frequent floods of late years, and the threatening famine, one would expect the poor peasants to be a most discouraged and unhappy cla.s.s. That all this toil and anxiety does wear on them is no doubt true, but the laborers are always ready to bear submissively whatever comes, and are always hopeful and prepared to enjoy life again in happier times. The charms of the city tempt them sometimes to exchange their daily labor for the excitement of life as _jinrikisha_ men; but in any case they will be perfectly independent, and ask no man for their daily rations.