The War in the East: Japan, China, and Corea

by Trumbull White

DRESSING THE HAIR.

The women follow the Chinese type a little closer. The eyes are narrower and sloped upward, and the head is small. Like the men their hair is glossy and very black, but it never reaches the length of American women’s hair. They have clear, sometimes even perfectly white skin, especially among the aristocracy, oval faces, and slender, graceful forms. Their manners are peculiarly artless and simple. But the harmony of the whole is spoiled in many instances by an ugly depression of the chest, which is sometimes observed in those who are otherwise handsomest and best formed.

About the end of the eighth century a reform was instituted in the military system of the empire, which had become unsatisfactory and defective. The court decided that all those among the rich peasants who had capacity and were skilled in archery and horsemanship, should compose the military class, and that the remainder, the weak and feeble, should continue to till the soil and apply themselves to agriculture. This was one of the most significant of all the changes in the history of Japan. Its fruits are seen to-day in the social constitution of the Japanese people. Though there are many classes, there are but two great divisions of the Japanese, the military and the agricultural.

This change wrought a complete severance of the soldier and the farmer. It lifted up one part of the people to a plane of life on which travel, adventure, the profession and pursuit of arms, letters, and the cultivation of honor and chivalry were possible, and by which that brightest type of Japanese men, the Samurai was produced. This is the class which for centuries has monopolized arms, polite learning, patriotism, and intellect of Japan. They are the men whose minds have been open to learn, from whom sprung the ideas that once made and later overthrew the feudal system, which wrought the mighty reforms that swept away the shogunate in 1868, and restored the mikado to ancient power, who introduced those ideas that now rule Japan, and sent their sons abroad to study the civilization of the west. To the Samurai Japan looks to-day for safety in war and progress in peace. The Samurai is the soul of the nation. In other lands the priestly and the military castes were formed, in Japan one and the same class held the sword and the pen; the other class, the agricultural, remained unchanged.

Left to the soil to till it, to live and die upon it, the Japanese farmer has remained the same to-day that he was then. Like the wheat, that for successive ages is planted as wheat, sprouts, beards and fills as wheat, the peasant with his horizon bounded by his rice fields and water courses or the timbered hills, his intellect laid away for safe keeping in the priest’s hands, is the son of the soil. He cares little who rules him unless he is taxed beyond the power of flesh and blood to bear, or an overmeddlesome official policy touches his land to transfer, sell or divide it. Then he rises to rebel. In time of war he is a disinterested and a passive spectator and he does not fight. He changes masters with apparent unconcern. Amidst all the ferment of ideas induced by the contact of western civilization with Asiatic within the last four decades, the farmer stolidly remains conservative. He knows not nor cares to hear of it and hates it because of the heavier taxes it imposes upon him.

The domestic solemnities of the Japanese, marriage especially, are made the subjects of deep and careful meditation. In the upper classes marriage is arranged between two young people when the bridegroom has reached his twentieth and the bride her sixteenth year. The will of the parents is almost without exception the dominating power in the matrimonial arrangements, which are carried out according to agreement among the relatives, but love affairs of a spontaneous kind form a large element in the romantic literature of Japan. The wedding is preceded by a betrothal, which ceremony offers an occasion for the members of both families to meet one another; and it not unfrequently happens that the future couple then learn for the first time the wishes of their parents respecting their union. If perchance the bridegroom elect is not satisfied with the choice, the young woman returns home again. With the introduction of other western ideas, this inconvenient custom is little by little falling into disuse. Nowadays, if a young man wishes to marry into a family of good position or one which it would be advantageous to his prospects to enter, he endeavors first to see the young lady, and then if she pleases him he sends a mediator, chosen usually from amongst his married friends, and the betrothal is arranged without any further obstacle. Even more American-like than this, however, there are many instances, and the number is constantly increasing, in which the match is the result of mutual affection, and sometimes elopements are known to occur among the best families.

When things are carried through conventionally, the betrothal and wedding are usually solemnized on the same day and without the assistance of any minister of worship. The customary ceremonies are all of a homely nature, but at the same time are extremely complicated and numerous. Upon the day fixed, the trousseau of the young bride and all the presents she has received, are brought to the home of the bridegroom, where the ceremony is to be performed, and arranged in the apartments set apart for the affair. The bride arrives soon afterward, dressed in white and escorted by her parents. The groom, arrayed in gala costume, receives her at the entrance of the house, and conducts her into the hall where the betrothal takes place. Here grand preparations have been made. The altar of the domestic gods has been decorated with images of the patron saints of the family and with different plants, each having its symbolical meaning.

When all have taken their places according to the recognized form of precedence, the ceremony is begun by two young girls, who hand around unlimited quantities of saki to the guests. These two damsels are surnamed the male and female butterfly, the emblems of conjugal felicity, because according to popular notion butterflies always fly about in couples. The decisive ceremony is tinged with a symbolism which has a considerable touch of poetry in it. The two butterflies, holding between them a two-necked bottle, approach and offer it to the engaged couple to drink together from the two mouths of the bottle till it is emptied, which signifies that husband and wife must drain together the cup of life whether it contain nectar or gall; they must share equally the joys and sorrows of existence.

The Japanese is the husband of one wife only, but he is at liberty to introduce several concubines under the family roof. This is done in all classes of society, especially amongst the daimios. It is asserted that in many of the noble families the legitimate wife not only evinces no jealousy, but has even a certain pleasure in seeing the number of her household thus augmented, as it supplies her with so many additional servants. In the middle classes, however, the custom is often the cause of bitter family dissentions.