no japanese woman is ashamed to show that she is getting along in years, but all take pains that every detail of the dress and coiffure shall show the full age of the wearer. the baby girl is dressed in the brightest of colors and the largest of patterns, and looks like a gay butterfly or tropical bird. as she grows older, colors become quieter, figures smaller, stripes narrower, until in old age she becomes a little gray moth or plain-colored sparrow. by the sophisticated eye, a woman's age can be told with considerable accuracy by the various little things about her costume,[22] and no woman cares to appear[120] younger than her real age, or hesitates to tell with entire frankness the number of years that have passed over her head.
the reason for this lies, at least in part, in the fact that every woman looks forward to the period of old age as the time when she will attain freedom from her life-long service to those about her,—will be in the position of adviser of her sons, and director of her daughters-in-law; will be a person of much consideration in the family, privileged to amuse herself in various ways, to speak her own mind on most subjects, and to be waited upon and cared for by children and grandchildren, in return for her long years of faithful service in the household. should her sight and other bodily powers remain good, she will doubtless perform many light tasks for the general good, will seldom sit idle by herself, but will help about the sewing and mending, the marketing, shopping, housework, and care of the babies, tell stories to her grandchildren after their lessons are learned, give the benefit of her years of experience to the young people who are still bearing the heat and burden of the day, and, by her prayers and visits to the temple at stated[121] seasons, will secure the favor of the gods for the whole family, as well as make her own preparations for entry into the great unknown toward which she is rapidly drifting. is there wonder that the young wife, steering her course with difficulty among the many shoals and whirlpools of early married life, looks forward with anticipation to the period of comparative rest and security that comes at the end of the voyage? as she bears all things, endures all things, suffers long, and is kind, as she serves her mother-in-law, manages her husband's household, cares for her babies, the thought that cheers and encourages her in her busy and not too happy life is the thought of the sunny calm of old age, when she can lay her burdens and cares on younger shoulders, and bask in the warmth and sunshine which this indian summer of her life will bring to her.
in the code of morals of the japanese, obedience to father, husband, or son is exalted into the chief womanly virtue, but the obedience and respect of children, both male and female, to their parents, also occupies a prominent position in their ethical system. hence, in this latter stage of a[122] woman's career, the obedience expected of her is often only nominal, and in any case is not so absolute and unquestioning as that of the early period; and the consideration and respect that a son is bound to show to his mother necessitates a care of her comfort, and a consultation of her wishes, that renders her position one of much greater freedom than can be obtained by any woman earlier in life. she has, besides, reached an age when she is not expected to remain at home, and she may go out into the streets, to the theatre, or other shows, without the least restraint or fear of losing her dignity.
a japanese woman loses her beauty early. at thirty-five her fresh color is usually entirely gone, her eyes have begun to sink a little in their sockets, her youthful roundness and symmetry of figure have given place to an absolute leanness, her abundant black hair has grown thin, and much care and anxiety have given her face a pathetic expression of quiet endurance. one seldom sees a face that indicates a soured temper or a cross disposition, but the lines that show themselves as the years go by are lines that indicate suffering and disappointment, [123]patiently and sweetly borne. the lips never forget to smile; the voice remains always cheerful and sympathetic, never grows peevish and worried, as is too often the case with overworked or disappointed women in this country. but youth with its hopeful outlook, its plans and its ambitions, gives way to age with its peaceful waiting for the end, with only a brief struggle for its place; and the woman of thirty-five is just at the point when she has bid good-by to her youth, and, having little to hope for in her middle life, is doing her work faithfully, and looking forward to an old age of privilege and authority, the mistress of her son's house, and the ruler of the little domain of home.
but i have spoken so far only of those happy women whose sons grow to maturity, and who manage to evade the dangerous reefs of divorce upon which so many lives are shipwrecked. what becomes of the hundreds who have no children to rise up and call them blessed, but who have in old age to live as dependents upon their brothers or nephews? even these, who in this country often lead hard and unrewarded lives of toil among their happier[124] relatives, find in old age a pleasanter lot than that of youth. many such old ladies i have met, whose short hair or shaven heads proclaim to all who see them that the sorrow of widowhood has taken from them the joy that falls to other women, but whose cheerful, wrinkled faces and happy, childlike ways have given one a feeling of pleasure that the sorrow is past, and peace and rest have come to their declining years. fulfilling what little household tasks they can, respected and self-respecting members of the household, the o b? san, or aunty, is not far removed in the honor and affection of the children from the o bā san, or grandma, but both alike find a peaceful shelter in the homes of those nearest and dearest to them.
one of the happiest old ladies i have ever seen was one who had had a rough and stormy life. the mother of many children, most of whom had died in infancy, she was at last left childless and a widow. in her children's death the last tie that bound her to her husband's family was broken, and, rather than be a burden to them, she made her home for many years with her own younger brother, taking [125]up again the many cares and duties of a mother's life in sharing with the mother the bringing up of a large family of children. one by one, from the oldest to the youngest, each has learned to love the old aunty, to be lulled asleep on her back, and to go to her in trouble when mother's hands were too full of work. many the caress received, the drives and walks enjoyed in her company, the toys and candies that came out unexpectedly from the depths of mysterious drawers, to comfort many an hour of childish grief. that was years ago, and the old aunty's hard times are nearly over. hale and hearty at three-score years and ten, she has seen these children grow up one by one, until now some have gone to new homes of their own. her bent form and wrinkled face are ever welcome to her children,—hers by the right of years of patient care and toil for them. they now, in their turn, enjoy giving her pleasure, and return to her all the love she has lavished upon them. it is a joy to see her childlike pride and confidence in them all, and to know that they have filled the place left vacant by the dead with whom had died all her hopes of earthly happiness.
[126]
the old women of japan,—how their withered faces, bent frames, and shrunken, yellow hands abide in one's memory! one seldom sees among them what we would call beauty, for the almost universal shrinking with age that takes place among the japanese covers the face with multitudinous wrinkles, and produces the effect of a withered russet apple; for the skin, which in youth is usually brightened by red cheeks and glossy black hair, in old age, when color leaves cheek and hair, has a curiously yellow and parchment-like look. but with all their wrinkles and ugliness, there is a peculiar charm about the old women of japan.
in tokyo, when the grass grows long upon your lawn, and you send to the gardener to come and cut it, no boy with patent lawn-mower, nor stalwart countryman with scythe and sickle, answers your summons, but some morning you awake to find your lawn covered with old women. the much-washed cotton garments are faded to a light blue, the exact match of the light blue cotton towels in which their heads are swathed, and on hands and knees, each armed with an enormous pair[127] of shears, the old ladies clip and chatter cheerfully all day long, until the lawn is as smooth as velvet under their careful cutting. an occasional rest under a tree, for pipes and tea, is the time for much cheerful talk and gossip; but the work, though done slowly and with due attention to the comfort of the worker, is well done, and certainly accomplished as rapidly as any one could expect of laborers who earn only from eight to twelve cents a day. another employment for this same class of laborers is the picking of moss and grass from the crevices of the great walls that inclose the moats and embankments of the capital. mounted on little ladders, they pick and scrape with knives until the wall is clear and fresh, with no insidious growth to push the great uncemented stones out of their places.
in contrast with these humble but cheerful toilers may be mentioned another class of women, often met with in the great cities. dressed in rags and with covered heads and faces, they wander about the streets playing the samisen outside the latticed windows, and singing with cracked voices some wailing melody. as they go[128] from house to house, gaining a miserable pittance by their weird music, they seem the embodiment of all that is hopeless and broken-hearted. what they are or whence they come, i know not, but they always remind me of the grasshopper in the fable, who danced and sang through the brief summer, to come, wailing and wretched, seeking aid from her thriftier neighbor when at last the winter closed in upon her.
as one rides about the streets, one often sees a little, white-haired old woman trotting about with a yoke over her shoulders from which are suspended two swinging baskets, filled with fresh vegetables. the fact that her hair is still growing to its natural length shows that she is still a wife and not a widow; her worn and patched blue cotton clothes, bleached light from much washing, show that extreme poverty is her lot in life; and as she hobbles along with the gait peculiar to those who carry a yoke, my thoughts are busy with her home, which, though poor and small, is doubtless clean and comfortable, but my eye follows her through the city's crowd, where laborer, soldier, student, and high official jostle each other by the way. suddenly i[129] see her pause before the gateway of a temple. she sets her burden down, and there in the midst of the bustling throng, with bowed head, folded hands, and moving lips, she invokes her god, snatching this moment from her busy life to seek a blessing for herself and her dear ones. the throng moves busily on, making a little eddy around the burden she has laid down, but paying no heed to the devout little figure standing there; then in a moment the prayer is finished; she stoops, picks up her yoke, balances it on her shoulders, and moves on with the crowd, to do her share while her strength lasts, and to be cared for tenderly, i doubt not, by children and children's children when her work is done.
another picture comes to me, too, a picture of one whose memory is an inspiring thought to the many who have the honor to call her "mother." a stately old lady, left a widow many years ago, before the recent changes had wrought havoc preparatory to further progress, she seemed always to me the model of a mother of the old school. herself a woman of thorough classical education, her example and teaching were to both sons and daughters a constant [130]inspiration; and in her old age she found herself the honored head of a family well known in the arts of war and peace, a goodly company of sons and daughters, every one of them heirs of her spirit and of her intellect. though conservative herself, and always clinging to the old customs, she put no block in the path of her children's progress, and her fine character, heroic spirit, and stanch loyalty to what she believed were worth more to her children than anything else could have been. tried by war, by siege, by banishment, by danger and sufferings of all kinds, to her was given at last an old age of prosperity among children of whom she might well be proud. keeping her physical vigor to the end, and dying at last, after an illness of only two days, her spirit passed out into the great unknown, ready to meet its dangers as bravely as she had met those of earth, or to enjoy its rest as sweetly and appreciatively as she had enjoyed that of her old age in the house of her oldest son.
my acquaintance with her was limited by our lack of common language, but was a most admiring and appreciative one on my side; and i esteem it one of the chief[131] honors of my stay in japan, that upon my last meeting with her, two weeks before her death, she gave me her wrinkled but still beautiful and delicately shaped hand at parting,—a deference to foreign customs that she only paid upon special occasions.
two weeks later, amid such rain as japanese skies know all too well how to let fall, i attended her funeral at the cemetery of aoyama. the cemetery chapel was crowded, but a place was reserved for me, on account of special ties that bound me to the family, just behind the long line of white-robed mourners. in the buddhist faith she had lived, and by the buddhist ceremonial she was buried,—the chanted ritual, the gorgeously robed priests, and the heavy smell of incense in the air reminding one of a roman catholic ceremony. the white wooden coffin was placed upon a bier at the entrance to the chapel, and when the priests had done their work, and the ecclesiastical ceremony was over, the relatives arose, one by one, walked over to the coffin, bowed low before it, and placed a grain of incense upon the little censer that stood on a table before the[132] bier, then, bowing again, retired to their places. slowly and solemnly, from the tall soldier son, his hair already streaked with gray, to the two-year-old grandchild, all paid this last token of respect to a noble spirit; and after the relatives the guests, each in the order of rank or nearness to the deceased, stepped forward and performed the same ceremony before leaving the room. what the meaning of the rite was, i did not know, whether a worship of strange gods or no; but to me, as i performed the act, it only signified the honor in which i held the memory of a heroic woman who had done well her part in the world according to the light that god had given her.
japanese art loves to picture the old woman with her kindly, wrinkled face, leaving out no wrinkle of them all, but giving with equal truthfulness the charm of expression that one finds in them. long life is desired by all as passionately as by ancient hebrew poet and psalmist, and with good reason, for only by long life can a woman attain the greatest honor and happiness. we often exclaim in impatience at the thought of the weakness and dependence of old[133] age, and pray that we may die in the fullness of our powers, before the decay of advancing years has made us a burden upon our friends. but in japan, dependence is the lot of woman, and the dependence of old age is that which is most respected and considered. an aged parent is never a burden, is treated by all with the greatest love and tenderness; and if times are hard, and food and other comforts are scarce, the children, as a matter of course, deprive themselves and their children to give ungrudgingly to their old father and mother. faults there are many in the japanese social system, but ingratitude to parents, or disrespect to the aged, must not be named among them; and young america may learn a salutary lesson by the study of the place that old people occupy in the home.
it is not only for the women of japan, but for the men as well, that old age is a time of peace and happiness. when a man reaches the age of fifty or thereabouts, often while apparently in the height of his vigor, he gives up his work or business and retires, leaving all the property and income to the care of his eldest son, upon whom[134] he becomes entirely dependent for his support.[23] this support is never begrudged him, for the care of parents by their children is as much a matter of course in japan as the care of children by those who give them birth. a man thus rarely makes provision for the future, and looks with scorn on foreign customs which seem to betoken a fear lest, in old age, ungrateful children may neglect their parents and cast them aside. the feeling, so strong in america, that dependence is of itself irksome and a thing to be dreaded, is altogether strange to the japanese mind. the married son does not care to take his wife to a new and independent home of his own, and to support her and her children by his own labor or on his own income, but he takes her to his father's house, and thinks it no shame that his family live upon his parents. but in return, when the parents wish to retire from active life, the son takes upon himself ungrudgingly the burden of[135] their support, and the bread of dependence is never bitter to the parents' lips, for it is given freely. to the time-honored european belief, that a young man must be independent and enterprising in early life in order to lay by for old age, the japanese will answer that children in japan are taught to love their parents rather than ease and luxury, and that care for the future is not the necessity that it is in europe and america, where money is above everything else,—even filial love. this habit of thought may account for the utter want of provision for the future, and the disregard for things pertaining to the accumulation of wealth, which often strikes curiously the foreigner in japan. a japanese considers his provision for the future made when he has brought up and educated for usefulness a large family of children. he invests his capital in their support and education, secure of bountiful returns in their gratitude and care for his old age. it is hard for the men of old japan to understand the rush and struggle for riches in america,—a struggle that too often leaves not a pause for rest or quiet pleasure until sickness or death overtakes the indefatigable [136]worker. the go inkyo[24] of japan is glad enough to lay down early in life the cares of the world, to have a few years of calm and peace, undisturbed by responsibilities or cares for outside matters. if he be an artist or a poet, he may, uninterrupted, spend his days with his beloved art. if he is fond of the ceremonial tea, he has whole afternoons that he may devote to this ?sthetic repast; and even if he has none of these higher tastes, he will always have congenial friends who are ready to share the saké bottle, to join in a quiet smoke over the hibachi, or to play the deep-engrossing game of go, or shogi, the japanese chess. to the japanese mind, to be in the company of a few kindred souls, to spend the long hours of a summer's afternoon at the ceremonial tea party, sipping tea and conversing in a leisurely manner on various subjects, is an enjoyment second to none. a cultivated japanese of the old times must receive an education fitting him especially[137] for such pursuits. at these meetings of friends, artistically or poetically inclined, the time is spent in making poems and exchanging wittily turned sentiments, to be read, commented on, and responded to; or in the making of drawings, with a few bold strokes of the brush, in illustration of some subject given out. such enjoyments as these, the japanese believe, cannot be appreciated or even understood by the practical, rush-ahead american, the product of the wonderful but material civilization of the west.
thus, amid enjoyments and easy labors suited to their closing years, the elder couple spend their days with the young people, cared for and protected by them. sometimes there will be a separate suite of rooms provided for them; sometimes a little house away from the noises of the household, and separated from the main building by a well-kept little garden. in any case, as long as they live they will spend their days in quiet and peace; and it is to this haven, the inkyo, that all japanese look forward, as to the time when they may carry out their own inclinations and tastes with an income provided for the rest of their days.[*]
footnotes:
[22] children wear their hair on top of their heads while very young, and the manner of arranging it is one of the distinctive marks of the age of the child. the marumagé, the style of headdress of married ladies, consisting of a large puff of hair on the top of the head, diminishes in size with the age of the wearer until, at sixty or seventy, it is not more than a few inches in width. the number, size, and variety of ornamental hairpins, and the tortoise-shell comb worn in front, all vary with the age.
[23] it is this custom of going into early retirement that made it possible for the nobles in old times to keep the emperor always a child. the ruling emperor would be induced to retire from the throne at the age of sixteen or twenty; thus making room for some baby, who would be in his turn the puppet of his ambitious courtiers.
[24] go inkyo sama is the title belonging to a retired old gentleman or old lady. inkyo is the name of the house or suite of rooms set apart for such a person, and the title itself is made up of this word with the chinese honorific go and the title sama, the same as san, used in addressing all persons except inferiors.
