Japanese Girls and Women — Life in the Cities, Part 2

There are, however, occupations in the city for women, by which they may support themselves or their families.

A good hair-dresser may make a handsome living; indeed, she does so well that it is proverbial among the Japanese that a hair-dresser's husband has nothing to do.

Though professional tailors are mostly men, many women earn a small pittance in taking in sewing and in giving sewing lessons; and as instructors in the ceremonial tea, etiquette, music, painting, and flower arrangement, many women of the old school are able to earn an independence, though none of these occupations are confined to the women alone.

The business of hotel-keeping we have referred to in a previous chapter, and it is a well-known fact that unless a hotel-keeper has a capable wife, his business will not succeed.

At present, all over T[=o]ky[=o], small restaurants, where food is served in the foreign style, are springing up, and these are usually conducted by a man and his wife who have at some time served as cook and waitress in a foreign family, and who conduct the business cöoperatively and on terms of good-fellowship and equality.

In these little eating-houses, where a well-cooked foreign dinner of from three to six courses is served for the moderate sum of thirty or forty cents, the man usually does the cooking, the woman the serving and handling of the money, until the time arrives when the profits of the business are sufficient to justify the hiring of more help.

When this time comes, the labor is redistributed, the woman frequently taking upon herself the reception of the guests and the keeping of the accounts, while the hired help waits on the tables.

One important calling, in the eyes of many persons, especially those of the lower classes, is that of fortune-telling; and these guides in all matters of life, both great and small, are to be found in every section of the city.

They are consulted on every important step by believing ones of all classes.

An impending marriage, an illness, the loss of any valuable article, a journey about to be taken,--these are all subjects for the fortune-teller.

He tells the right day of marriage, and says whether the fates of the two parties will combine well; gives clues to the causes of sudden illness, and information as to what has become of lost articles, and whether they will be recovered or not.

Warned thus by the fortune-teller against evils that may happen, many ingenious expedients are resorted to, to avoid the ill foretold.

A man and his family were about to move from their residence to another part of the city.

They sent to know if the fates were propitious to the change for all the family.

The day and year of birth of each was told, and then the fortune-teller hunted up the various signs, and sent word that the direction of the new home was excellent for the good luck of the family as a whole, and the move a good one for each member of it except one of the sons; the next year the same move would be bad for the father.

As the family could not wait two years before moving, it was decided that the change of residence should be made at once, but that the son should live with his uncle until the next year.

The uncle's home was, however, inconveniently remote, and so the young man stayed as a visitor at his father's house for the remaining months of the year, after which he became once more a member of the household.

Thus the inconvenience and the evil were both avoided.

[*282] Another story comes to my mind now of a dear old lady, the Go Inkyo Sama of a house of high rank, who late in life came to T[=o]ky[=o] to live with her brother and his young and somewhat foreignized wife.

The brother himself, while not a Christian, had little belief in the old superstitions of his people; his wife was a professing Christian.

Soon after the old lady's arrival in T[=o]ky[=o], her sister-in-law fell ill, and before she had recovered her strength the children, one after another, came down with various diseases, which, though in no case fatal, kept the family in a state of anxiety for more than a year.

The old lady was quite sure that there was some witchcraft or art-magic at work among her dear ones, and, after consulting the servants (for she knew that she could expect no sympathy in her plans from either her brother or his wife), she betook herself to a fortune-teller to discover through his means the causes of the illness in the family.

The fortune-teller revealed to her the fact that two occult forces were at work bringing evil upon the house.

One was the evil spirit of a spring or well that had been choked with stones, or otherwise obstructed in its flow, and that chose this way of bringing its afflictions to the attention of mortals.

The other was the spirit of a horse that had once belonged in the family, and that after death revenged itself upon its former masters for the hard service wherewith it had been made to serve.

The only way in which these two powers could be appeased would be by finding the well, and removing the obstructions that choked it, and by erecting an image of the horse and offering to it cakes and other meat-offerings.

The fortune-teller hinted, moreover, that for a consideration he might be able to afford material aid in the search for the well.

At this information Go Inkyo Sama was much perturbed, for further aid for her afflicted family seemed to require the use of money, and of that commodity she had very little, being mainly dependent upon her brother for support.

She returned to her home and consulted the servants upon the matter; but though they quite agreed with her that something should be done, they had little capital to invest in the enterprises suggested by the fortune-teller.

At last, the old lady went to her brother, but he only laughed at her well-meant attempts to help his family, and refused to give her money for such a purpose.

She retired discouraged, but, urged by the servants, she decided to make a last appeal, this time to her sister-in-law, who must surely be moved by the evil that was threatening herself and her children.

Taking some of the head servants with her, she went to her sister and presented the case.

This was her last resort, and she clung to her forlorn hope longer than many would have done, the servants adding their arguments to her impassioned appeals, only to find out after all that the steadfast sister could not be moved, and that she would not propitiate the horse's spirit, or allow money to be used for such a purpose.

She gave it up then, and sat down to await the fate of her doomed house, doubtless wondering much and sighing often over the foolish skepticism of her near relatives, and wishing that the rationalistic tendencies of the time would take a less dangerous form than the neglecting of the plainest precautions for life and health.

The fate has not yet come, and now at last Go Inkyo Sama seems to have resigned herself to the belief that it has been averted from the heads of the dear ones by a power unknown to the fortune-teller.

Beside these callings, there are other employments which are not regarded as wholly respectable by either Japanese or foreigners.

The _géisha ya_, or establishments where dancing-girls are trained, and let out by the day or evening to tea-houses or private parties, are usually managed by women.

At these establishments little girls are taken, sometimes by contract with their parents, sometimes adopted by the proprietors of the house, and from very early youth are trained not only in the art of dancing, but are taught singing and _samisen_-playing, all the etiquette of serving and entertaining guests, and whatever else goes to make a girl charming to the opposite sex.

When thoroughly taught, they form a valuable investment, and well repay the labor spent upon them, for a popular géisha commands a good price everywhere, and has her time overcrowded with engagements.

A Japanese entertainment is hardly regarded as complete without géishas in attendance, and their dancing, music, and graceful service at supper form a charming addition to an evening of enjoyment at a tea-house.

It is these géishas, too, who at _matsuri_ are hired to march in quaint uniforms in the procession, or, borne aloft on great _dashi_, dance for the benefit of the admiring crowds.

The Japanese dances are charmingly graceful and modest; the swaying of the body and limbs, the artistic management of the flowing draperies, the variety of themes and costumes of the different dances, all go to make an entertainment by géishas one of the pleasantest of Japanese enjoyments.

Sometimes, in scarlet and yellow robes, the dainty maidens imitate, with their supple bodies, the dance of the maple leaves as they are driven hither and thither in the autumn wind; sometimes, with tucked-up _kimonos_ and jaunty red petticoats, they play the part of little country girls carrying their eggs to market in the neighboring village.

Again, clad in armor, they simulate the warlike gestures and martial stamp of some of the old-time heroes; or, with whitened faces and hoary locks, they perform with rake and broom the dance of the good old man and old woman who play so prominent a part in Japanese pictures.

And then, when the dance is over, and all are bewitched with their grace and beauty, they descend to the supper-room and ply their temporary employers with the _saké_ bottle, laughing and jesting the while, until there is little wonder if the young men at the entertainment drink more than is good for them, and leave the tea-house at last thoroughly tipsy, and enslaved by the bright eyes and merry wits of some of the Hebes who have beguiled them through the evening.

The géishas unfortunately, though fair, are frail.

In their system of education, manners stand higher than morals, and many a géisha gladly leaves the dancing in the tea-houses to become the concubine of some wealthy Japanese or foreigner, thinking none the worse of herself for such a business arrangement, and going cheerfully back to her regular work, should her contract be unexpectedly ended.

The géisha is not necessarily bad, but there is in her life much temptation to evil, and little stimulus to do right, so that, where one lives blameless, many go wrong, and drop below the margin of respectability altogether.

Yet so fascinating, bright, and lively are these géishas that many of them have been taken by men of good position as wives, and are now the heads of the most respectable homes.

Without true education or morals, but trained thoroughly in all the arts and accomplishments that please,--witty, quick at repartee, pretty, and always well dressed,--the géisha has proved a formidable rival for the demure, quiet maiden of good family, who can only give her husband an unsullied name, silent obedience, and faithful service all her life.

The freedom of the present age, as shown in the chapter on "Marriage and Divorce," and as seen in the choice of such wives, has presented this great problem to the thinking women of Japan.

If the wives of the leaders in Japan are to come from among such a class of women, something must be done, and done quickly, for the sake of the future of Japan; either to raise the standards of the men in regard to women, or to change the old system of education for girls.

A liberal education, and more freedom in early life for women, has been suggested, and is now being tried, but the problem of the géisha and her fascination is a deep one in Japan.

Below the géisha in respectability stands the j[=o]r[=o], or licensed prostitute.

Every city in Japan has its disreputable quarter, where the various _j[=o]r[=o]ya_, or licensed houses of prostitution, are situated.

The supervision that the government exercises over these places is extremely rigid; the effort is made, by licensing and regulating them, to minimize the evils that must flow from them.

The proprietors of the _j[=o]r[=o]ya_ do everything in their power to make their houses, grounds, and employees attractive, and, to the unsuspecting foreigner, this portion of the city seems often the pleasantest and most respectable.

A j[=o]r[=o] need never be taken for a respectable woman, for her dress is distinctive, and a stay of a short time in Japan is long enough to teach even the most obtuse that the _obi_, or sash, tied in front instead of behind, is one of the badges of shame.

But though the occupation of the j[=o]r[=o] is altogether disreputable,--though the prostitute quarter is the spot to which the police turn for information in regard to criminals and law-breakers, a sort of a trap into which, sooner or later, the offender against the law is sure to fall,--Japanese public opinion, though recognizing the evil as a great one, does not look upon the professional prostitute with the loathing which she inspires in Christian countries.

The reason for this lies, not solely in the lower moral standards although it is true that sins of this character are regarded much more leniently in Japan than in England or America.

The reason lies very largely in the fact that these women are seldom free agents.

Many of them are virtually slaves, sold in childhood to the keepers of the houses in which they work, and trained, amid the surroundings of the _j[=o]r[=o]ya_, for the life which is the only life they have ever known.

A few may have sacrificed themselves freely but reluctantly for those whom they love, and by their revolting slavery may be earning the means to keep their dear ones from starvation or disgrace.

Many are the Japanese romances that are woven about the virtuous j[=o]r[=o], who is eventually rewarded by finding, even in the _j[=o]r[=o]ya_, a lover who is willing to raise her again to a life of respectability, and make her a happy wife and the mother of children.

Such stories must necessarily lower the standard of morals in regard to chastity, but in a country in which innocent romance has little room for development, the imagination must find its materials where it can.

These _j[=o]r[=o]ya_ give employment to thousands of women throughout the country, but in few cases do the women seek that employment, and more openings in respectable directions, together with a change in public opinion securing to every woman the right to her own person, would tend to diminish the number of victims that these institutions yearly draw into their devouring current.

Innocent and reputable amusements are many and varied in the cities.

We have already mentioned incidentally the theatre as one of the favorite diversions of the people; and though it has never been regarded as a very refined amusement, it has done and is doing much for the education of the lower classes in the history and spirit of former times.

Regular plays were never performed in the presence of the Emperor and his court, or the Sh[=o]gun and his nobles, but the _No_ dance was the only dramatic amusement of the nobility.

This _No_ is an ancient Japanese theatrical performance, more, perhaps, like the Greek drama than anything in our modern life.

All the movements of the actors are measured and conventionalized, speech is a poetical recitative, the costumes are stiff and antique, masks are much used, and a chorus seated upon the stage chants audible comments upon the various situations.

This alone, the most ancient and classical of Japanese theatrical performances, is considered worthy of the attention of the Emperor and the nobility, and takes the place with them of the more vulgar and realistic plays which delight common people.

The regular theatre preserves in many ways the life and costumes of old Japan, and the details of dress and scenery are most carefully studied.

The actors are usually men, though there are "women theatres" in which all the parts are performed by women.

In no case are the rôles taken by both sexes upon one stage.

As the performances last all day, from ten or eleven in the forenoon until eight or nine in the evening, going to the theatre means much more than a few hours of entertainment after the day's work is over.

A lunch and dinner, with innumerable light edibles between, go to make up the usual bill of fare for a day at the play, and tea-houses in the neighborhood of the theatre provide the necessary meals, a room to take them in, a resting-place between the acts, and whatever tea, cakes, and other refreshments may be ordered.

These latter eatables are served by the attendants of the tea-house in the theatre boxes while the play is in progress, and the playgoers eat and smoke all day long through roaring farce or goriest tragedy.

Similar to the theatre in many ways are the public halls, where professional story-tellers, the _hanashika_, night after night, relate long stories to crowded audiences, as powerfully and vividly as the best trained elocutionist.

Each gesture, and each modulation of the voice, is studied as carefully as are those of the actors.

Many charming tales are told of old Japan, and even Western stories have found their way to these assemblies.

A long story is often continued from night to night until finished.

Unfortunately, the class of people who patronize these places is low, and the moral tone of some of the stories is pitched accordingly; but the best of the story-tellers--those who have talent and reputation--are often invited to come to entertainments given at private houses, to amuse a large company by their eloquence or mimicry.

This is a very favorite entertainment, and the _hanashika_ has so perfected the art of imitation that he can change in a moment from the tones of a child to those of an old woman.

Solemn and sad subjects are touched upon, as well as merry and bright things, and he never fails to make his audience weep or laugh, according to his theme, and well merits the applause he always receives at the end.

The _hanami_, or picnic to famous places to view certain flowers as they bloom in their season, though not belonging strictly to city life, forms one of the greatest of the pleasures of city people.

The river Sumida, on which T[=o]ky[=o] is situated, has lining its eastern shore for some miles the famous cherry-trees of Japan, with their large, double pink blossoms, and when, in April and May, these flowers are in their perfection, great crowds of sightseers flock to Muk[=o]jima to enjoy the blossoms under the trees.

The river is crowded with picnic parties in boats.

Every tea-house along the banks is full of guests, and the little stalls and resting-places on the way find a quick sale for fruit, confectionery, and light lunches.

_Saké_ is often too freely imbibed by the merrymakers, whose flushed faces show, when returning homeward, how their day was spent.

There is much quiet enjoyment, too, of the lovely blossoms, the broad, calm river, and the gayly dressed crowds.

Hundreds and thousands of visitors crowd to the suburban places about T[=o]ky[=o],--to Uyéno Park for its cherry and peach blossoms, Kaméido for the plum and wistaria, Oji for its famous maple-trees, and many others, each noted for some special beauty.

Dango Zaka has its own peculiar attraction, the famous chrysanthemum dolls.

These ingenious figures are arranged so as to form tableaux,--scenes from history or fiction well known to all the people.

They are of life size, and the faces, hands, and feet are made of some composition, and closely resemble life in every detail.

But the curious thing in these tableaux is that the scenery, whether it be the representation of a waterfall, rocks, or bushes, the animals, and the dresses of the figures are made entirely of chrysanthemum twigs, leaves, and flowers, not cut and woven in, as at the first glance they seem to be,--so closely are the leaves and flowers bound together to make the flat surface of different objects,--but alive and growing on the plants.

It is impossible to tell where the roots and stems are hidden, for nothing is visible but (for example) the white spray and greenish shadows of a waterfall, or the parti-colored figures in a young girl's dress.

But, should it be the visitor's good fortune to watch the repairing of one of these lifelike images, he will find that the entire body is a frame woven of split bamboo, within which the plants are placed, their roots packed in damp earth and bound about with straw, while their leaves and flowers are pulled through the basket frame and woven into whatsoever pattern the artistic eye and skillful fingers of the gardener may select.

A roof of matting shields each group from the sun by day, and a slight sprinkling every night serves to keep the plants fresh for nearly a month, and the flowers continue their blooming during that time, as calmly as if in perfectly natural positions.

Each of the gardeners of the neighborhood has his own little show, containing several tableaux, the entrance to which is guarded by an officious gate-keeper, who shouts out the merits of his particular groups of figures, and forces his show-bills upon the passer-by, in the hope of securing the two sen admission fee which is required for each exhibit.

And so, amid the shopping, the festivals, the amusements of the great cities, the women find their lives varied in many ways.

Their holidays from home duties are spent amid these enjoyments; and if they have not the out-of-door employments, the long walks up the mountains, the days spent in tea-picking, in harvesting, in all the varied work that comes to the country woman, the dwellers in the city have no lack of sights and sounds to amuse and interest them, and would not often care to exchange their lot for the freer and hardier life of the rustic.

CHAPTER XI.