CHAPTER XI.
THE SPY SYSTEM—THE BATH-HOUSE.
There are two Japanese customs so diametrically opposed to English ideas, and so materially affecting the national character, that it is necessary to call special attention to them.
The espionage system is perhaps the strangest, as every one in the country is subjected to it, from the Mikado and Tycoon, or spiritual and temporal emperors, to the humblest of the people.
All offices of importance are double; that is to say, every governor of a town or district is associated with a vice-governor, who is an 'ometsky,' or 'spy,' upon him, and is in turn spied upon by others. In this way a constant check is kept upon the executive of the empire.
In addition to this acknowledged system, government officials are frequently watched by secret spies, who, for aught they know, may be some apparently trusty friend: so that, even in the absence of their double, they can never be certain that they are free from supervision.
In private life families spy on each other, for which purpose they are divided into coteries of five households, the heads of which are not only responsible for themselves, their families and servants, but also for the other members of the coterie; and any wrong-doing in one household must be immediately reported to the proper authorities, to secure the rest from sharing in the punishment of the offence.
To such an extent is this system of responsibility carried, that a whole district sometimes suffers for the offence of one of its residents. In the towns where the streets are intersected with barriers a few hundred yards apart, which are always closed at night, the people living within these enclosures are often under the ban of the officials for some irregularity which has occurred within the limits. This constant espionage has, of course a very pernicious effect upon the character of the people, as it necessarily instils feelings of distrust and suspicion among near neighbours. Yet it is marvellous how well their social system works, and still more marvellous that the officials, who in public life practise every kind of deception and artifice, should be, and from all accounts deservedly so, distinguished in private life for their truthfulness, candour, and hospitality.
The other notable peculiarity is the indiscriminate manner in which the sexes mingle in the public bath-houses. All Japanese perform their ablutions once or twice a-day; for which purpose the poorer classes resort to the bath-houses, which are generally open to the road or street.
Some bath-houses have the women's lavatory separate; and one of these is the subject of the illustration. This arrangement, however, is more for convenience than in compliance with the demands of modesty as is evidenced by the fact that a male attendant is supplying water; and that his presence is plainly a matter of perfect indifference to the women bathing, with their children, in his immediate vicinity.
UYA, OR BATH-HOUSE
But it is in the common bath-room where this extraordinary feature of Japanese life unmistakeably presents itself. There men, women and children, perform their ablutions together, with all the apparent innocency of our first parents. The proceedings are conducted with perfect order and good-nature. The steaming occupants make way for one another with ball-room politeness; they laugh and chat over their tubs, discuss the public notices on the walls, or, maybe, saunter occasionally to the open door or window, to look at something which has attracted their attention, or to exchange greetings with a passing friend. All this is done with a freedom that speaks for itself of their utter unconsciousness of any impropriety in their conduct.
Frequently a lady is assisted by her husband in the cleansing process; and this is not necessarily a matrimonial compliment, as regular bathing-men are employed for the convenience of those who require such attention.
The favourite times for bathing are the middle of the day and the evening; but in the summer the bath-houses are always full.
Going home from the Bath-house. [Native Drawing.]
The modus operandi is very simple. The bather, after duly depositing his straw shoes at the door and paying a few cash for admittance, at once proceeds to disrobe himself, placing his garments in an allotted compartment. He then secures a tub, which is filled with lukewarm water, and, squatting down before it, lathers himself with a vegetable, soapy material, which is sewn up in a small bag. At this stage of the proceeding he will probably enter into conversation with his neighbours, complacently rejoicing in his soapiness until the remonstrances of the bathing-house man, or of some would-be possessor of his tub, compel him to finish his ablutions.
It would seem natural to conclude that such a system must have immoral effects, but the Japanese attribute no evil consequences to it. They say that, being accustomed to it from childhood, it only enables them to carry out those habits of cleanliness which distinguish alike their persons and their homes.
It is amusing to notice the care taken by the Japanese to protect themselves from a second bath on returning from the bath-houses to their homes in rainy weather. The artisan with the umbrella (which bears his name and direction, by the way) is an instance of this.