The fair sex in Japan are the most simple and, at the same time, the most complicated creatures imaginable. In their general ideas and knowledge of the world they are like children--delightful children, too--and in their love of enjoyment and simple pleasures they retain their youthful simplicity all their lives.

But, on the other hand, it is almost impossible for a foreigner really to understand their natures. Up to a certain point a Japanese lady is apparently friendly, as she greets one on meeting with that easy grace and courtesy which is one of her peculiar charms. But one seldom becomes more intimate. There seems to be a wall of reserve, beyond which it is impossible to penetrate. I have often attempted to fathom the cause of this barrier, but without success; and I find it is the general experience of those who, like myself, have lived amongst the Japanese and known them well.

Perhaps the natural antipathy which has so long existed between the Eastern and Western races may somewhat account for this want of intimacy; and also, I fear, we Europeans have often wounded the delicate susceptibilities of our Eastern cousins by our want of tact, and our tendency to treat their manners and customs with ridicule, if not contempt.

I am speaking more particularly of the ladies of the upper classes. The little ‘musmee,’ generally considered by the ordinary globe-trotter to be the recognised type of a Japanese woman, is no more so than is the grisette the typical Frenchwoman, or the English ballet-girl the typical Englishwoman.

Nowhere, perhaps, in the world does one find a more ideal ‘lady’ than amongst the wives and daughters in fair Japonica.

A Japanese lady reminds me of a delicate sea-anemone, which at the first approach of a rough hand shrinks into itself, avoiding contact with the practical hardness of everyday life.

She is almost morbidly sensitive, but her natural pride and politeness forbid her in any way to retaliate. How little we understand her feelings! A Japanese never forgets. Sometimes revenge is impossible, but I have heard of more than one case when a foreigner’s official position has been lost owing to his wife’s indiscretion, though he and his wife also may be entirely ignorant of the cause of his dismissal.

In appearance, a Japanese woman is smaller and of slighter build than a European. Many are distinctly pretty when young, but they age very quickly, and with their youth every vestige of good looks departs. Their complexions are very sallow, but their faces are generally thickly painted and powdered, a hard line round the neck showing the point where art stops and Nature begins.

Beauty, from a Japanese standpoint, consists in a long, oval face, regular features, almond-shaped eyes sloping slightly upwards, a high, narrow forehead, and abundance of smooth, black hair.

Their movements are graceful, although the style of their dress prevents them walking with ease; their feet and hands are delicately formed, and their manners unquestionably charming.

They take hardly any exercise, and one wonders sometimes how the little ladies employ their time. There seems so little to be done in a Japanese house. To begin with, there are no regular meals. The shops near at hand supply daily numberless minute dishes, which seem to be eaten at all hours of the day and night, a few pecks with those impossible chopsticks at a time. Nothing is kept in the larder except some slices of ‘daikon’ (fermented turnip), some rice, and sweet biscuits.

‘The honourable live fish’ is sold by men who carry round large water-tubs from house to house, and cut off as much as is required from the unfortunate fish, replacing the sadly mutilated but still struggling remains in the tub.

Eggs are cheap and plentiful. Bread is never used, so there is no necessity for an oven.

The great stand-by is tea. A Japanese lady is seldom seen in her home without the quaint little tea-tray by her side and the inevitable pipe, containing one whiff of tobacco, which is in constant requisition.

There is practically no furniture in a Japanese house. The beds consist of large quilted rugs called ‘futons,’ which are rolled up every morning and put in the cupboards concealed behind the ‘shoji,’ or panels, in the walls. There are no carpets, curtains, tables, or chairs, only the straw ‘tatami,’ and a few small, flat cushions on the floor.

Instead of our European fireplace, a brass or wooden ‘hibatchi’ (fire-box) is substituted, containing charcoal. The boxes can be moved about a room as desired.

Everything is spotlessly clean. No muddy shoes are allowed inside a house, and one can generally judge of the number of inmates by the row of wooden clogs placed in a row outside the front-door.

It is all very quaint and strange in Japan, and the longer one lives in the country, the more fascinated one becomes with the little people, whose manners and customs differ so greatly from our own.

Before the Chino-Japanese War broke out there was quite a revival of cordiality between the Japanese and foreigners in the capital. Dinners and garden fÊtes were given and returned, and the wives of the Japanese Ministers and officials had their ‘At Home’ days during the winter, when nothing could have exceeded their dainty politeness and the apparent interest they took in our European houses and dress--especially dress, I remember. Sometimes, when conversation became rather strained, the introduction of a Lady’s Pictorial or Queen would quite revive flagging interest, and many a time have I been consulted in the choice of some important item in their ‘toilette.’ I am glad to say there has been a reaction the last year or two in favour of the national dress, the long flowing kimonos and quaint obis being infinitely more becoming to their slender little figures than the madly complicated and ever-changing fashions of the West.

But everyone must appear at Court in European dress, and many have been the dilemmas of the little ladies when called upon to appear at some function at the palace.

It has been said that foreign clothes make a difference in a man’s behaviour to his wife: ‘European dress, European manners.’ How far this is correct I cannot say, but there may be some truth in it. As I mentioned before, we were congratulating ourselves on the progress we were making in our friendly relations with the little ladies. But when the war broke out, the Japanese Ministers left in the Emperor’s train for the headquarters of the army at Shimonoseki, the officers joined their regiments and ships, leaving their wives behind, and for the next eighteen months no Japanese lady crossed our thresholds, nor was to be seen at home or abroad.

Now, this was most disappointing. In vain we called at their houses. ‘“Arimazen” (‘Not at home’), said a smiling, and I fear untruthful, nasan.

The nearest approach we had to success was one afternoon, calling on the wife of one of the Ministers of State. In answer to our inquiries if the Countess was at home, the doors were drawn back--they don’t open in Japan--and we were admitted, feeling very triumphant. We removed our shoes, and were ushered down long corridors to a room evidently kept to receive foreigners, having as its only furniture one small table and four chairs. After waiting about ten minutes we heard a shuffling of feet and much suppressed laughter; one of the panels of the room was drawn aside, and to our great surprise our own Japanese coachman appeared, followed by two nasans, who seemed immensely amused about something. After some difficulty--for our coachman’s vocabulary in English was extremely limited--we were given to understand that the ‘oksama’ (honourable lady of the house) was engaged in having her bath, and unable to receive us. We beat a hasty and discomfited retreat, and after that resisted our desire to renew the acquaintance of the mysterious little people, who for some reason best known to themselves had so completely given us the cold-shoulder.

Some months later, the war being ended and the husbands having returned, their wives reappeared in public as friendly and as smiling as before. We asked them the reason of their apparent desertion, but all we could gather was that their husbands had forbidden them to enter society during their absence; I fancy, however, their own inclination had a good deal to do with their retirement from European society.

A Japanese lady is noted for her courage, her strength of mind and self-possession. It is wonderful to think what physical trials and dangers these fragile, delicate little creatures will undergo in an emergency. The Prime Minister’s life was once saved by the courage and presence of mind of his wife.

Many years ago, when quite a young man, during a rebellion, Count Ito was hiding from his enemies, who, having tracked him to his house, sent a band of ‘soshis’ to assassinate him. On hearing his enemies approaching, and trapped like a rat in its hole, the Count drew his sword and prepared to die; but the Countess whispered, ‘Do not die; there is hope still’; and removing the hibatchi, or fire-box, and lifting up the mats and the planks beneath, she induced her husband to conceal himself in the hollow space which exists under the floor of all Japanese houses. The murderers broke into the room just as the fire-box had been replaced, and demanded of the Countess their victim. In vain they threatened and cruelly ill-treated her, dragging her about the room by her long black hair. But it was of no avail; they could not shake her resolute fidelity. Thanks to her courage Count Ito escaped, and has lived to give to his country a new Constitution, and become one of the greatest statesmen of modern Japan.^[B] I often wondered when I saw the Countess, now a delicate, gray-haired little lady, at the courage and presence of mind that she displayed at that critical moment of her life.

Another instance of the high spirit of Japanese women and their pride is shown in the following anecdote, described by a German writer, entitled ‘A Japanese Lucretia’:

In 1646 a nobleman named Jacatai was ordered to present himself before the Mikado, and was obliged to leave his wife behind. During his absence a former rejected suitor of the lady’s, taking advantage of his successful rival’s absence, came, with his retinue, and by force carried off the unfortunate bride to his castle. She, however, eventually managed to escape, and instantly determined to be revenged. Holding out distant hopes of pardon to the offender, she induced him to remain in the neighbourhood of Saccai until her husband’s return, when she gave an entertainment to all her relations and friends to welcome him back. In the middle of the banquet, which was held on the housetop, Lucretia suddenly rose up and stated what had occurred, saying: ‘I pray you to take my life now that I have been dishonoured, for I do not care to live.’ All present protested against the idea of punishing her for another’s crime, and her husband assured her he loved her none the less for what had happened. But her high sense of honour was not satisfied. ‘Will no one punish me?’ she said. ‘Then must I do it myself; but I pray you to avenge me.’ With these words she flung herself head foremost from the housetop and broke her neck. The culprit was instantly pursued, but escaped, only, however, to commit ‘hara-kiri’--the honourable despatch--by the dead body of the unfortunate lady whom he had wronged, but did not desire to survive.

From her youth a Japanese lady is taught to control her feelings, and the strange immobility that is so noticeable in the Empress is considered, from a Japanese point of view, the very highest mark of good breeding. During the war, when one of the Japanese Princes was away fighting in China, and exposed to every possible peril in that deadly country, his wife was asked if she was not terribly anxious as to her husband’s safety. ‘Oh no,’ she replied; ‘I am proud that my husband should be fighting for his country. If he is killed in the service of His Majesty, I should feel he was honoured above others who have not had the opportunity of showing their loyalty.’

The Prince, however, returned in safety, and he and his wife are living happily together; and one trusts the brave officer may have other ways of showing his valour than by his death.

Much has been said about mixed marriages in Japan. On rare occasions they are a success, but this is not generally the case, especially if the wife be the foreigner.

I was much interested in a European lady I knew who had married a Japanese officer. They were a very united couple, and, had it not been for the husband’s mother, all might have been well. But in Japan a wife is still entirely in subjection to her mother-in-law, who makes the most of this authority, in some cases reducing her son’s wife into a sort of upper servant. In the present instance, as long as her husband remained at home his wife was able to do pretty much as she pleased. When, however, the war broke out and he joined his regiment in China, the mother-in-law entirely regained the upper hand. The unfortunate daughter had to abandon her European customs, adopt Japanese dress for herself and her child, sit on the floor, and live principally on Japanese food. Nor was this all. During her husband’s absence the elder lady absolutely forbade her victim to accept any invitations or to receive any visitors except her Japanese relations and a few of their friends.

I managed, however, to gain admittance one day, and found my friend very miserable, shivering over a wretched charcoal ‘hibatchi,’ and without a single book or paper to distract her thoughts from her anxiety as to her husband’s safety. So great was the old lady’s power and influence that the Western woman did not dare to disobey, but had to submit in silence until her husband’s return home, when, I am glad to say, life once more became bearable to her.

The case is somewhat different when it is the wife who is Japanese. To begin with, no Japanese lady of gentle birth would ever think of marrying a foreigner. She would consider it a mÉsalliance of the very worst description. Therefore the Japanese wives whom one meets in society are of very humble origin, and generally know no language but their own. They are charming little creatures when young, pretty and gentle; but they have nothing in common with their husbands, and are looked upon more in the light of playthings than anything else. They have often, though, great influence with their husbands in their household, and succeed in bringing up their children as much like Japanese and as little like foreigners as possible. I fancy it is chiefly owing to the Japanese parent’s jealousy and the negligence of the foreigner that this is the case.

The social position of Japanese women has very much changed for the better during the last few years, chiefly owing to foreign influence and the spread of Christianity in the country.

The Empress, too, has done much by promoting charitable work of all kinds in the country, and through her influence the horrible custom of blackening the teeth and shaving the eyebrows of married women has been abolished. Her personal interest in the Red-Cross Society was especially noticeable during the last war, when she and the wives of many of the nobles visited, and some even nursed, the sick in hospital, and employed their days making lint and bandages for the use of the wounded.

A Japanese courtship and wedding are both very curious ceremonies, and still somewhat savour of barbarism.

‘When a young man has fixed his affections upon a maiden of suitable standing, he declares his love by fastening a branch of a certain shrub to the house of the damsel’s parents. If the branch be neglected, the suit is rejected; if it be accepted, so is the suitor’ (Siebold).

At the time of the marriage the bridegroom sends presents to his bride as costly as his means will allow, which she immediately offers to her parents, in acknowledgment of their kindness in infancy and of the pains bestowed upon her education. The wedding takes place in the evening. The bride is dressed in a long white silk kimono and white veil, and she and her future husband sit facing each other on the floor. Two tables are placed close by. On the one is a kettle with two spouts, a bottle of sakÉ, and cups; on the other table a miniature fir-tree, signifying strength of the bridegroom; a plum-tree, signifying the beauty of the bride; and lastly a stork, standing on a tortoise, representing long life and happiness, desired by them both.

At the marriage feast each guest in turn drinks three cups of the sakÉ, and the two-spouted kettle, also containing sakÉ, is put to the mouths of the bride and bridegroom alternately by two attendants, signifying that they are to share together joys and sorrows. The bride keeps her veil all her life, and at her death it is buried with her as her shroud. The chief duty of a Japanese woman is obedience--whilst unmarried, to her parents; when married, to her husband and his parents; when widowed, to her son.

In the ‘Greater Learning of Women’ we read: ‘A woman should look upon her husband as if he were heaven itself, and thus escape celestial punishment.... The five worst maladies that afflict the female mind are indocility, discontent, slander, jealousy, and silliness. Without any doubt these five maladies afflict seven or eight out of every ten women, and from them arises the inferiority of women to men. A woman should cure them by self-inspection and self-reproach. The worst of them all and the parent of the other four is silliness.’

The above extract shows us very clearly the position which women have until quite recently taken in Japan. As a German writer says, ‘Her condition is the intermediate link between the European and the Asiatic.’ On the one hand, Japanese women are subjected to no seclusion, and are as carefully educated as the men, and take their own place in society; but, on the other hand, they have absolutely no independence, and are in complete subjection to their husbands, sons, and other relations. They are without legal rights, and under no circumstances can a wife obtain a divorce or separation from her husband, however great his offence. Notwithstanding this, in no country does one find a higher standard of morality than amongst the married women of Japan. Faithlessness is practically unknown, although the poor little wives must often have much to put up with from their autocratic lords and masters. They bear all, however, silently and uncomplainingly, their characteristic pride and reserve forbidding them show to the outer world what they suffer. I read the other day that a Japanese poet has called a Japanese wife ‘social glue,’ meaning, I suppose, that she had to cement the happiness of everyone in the house together.

We Europeans might well in many respects imitate, and have still much to learn from, our little cousins in the Far East.