Chapter III: Interiors (1)

The interior of a Japanese house is so simple in its construction, and so unlike anything to which we are accustomed in the arrangement of details of interiors in this country, that it is difficult to find terms of comparison in attempting to describe it. Indeed, without the assistance of sketches it would be almost impossible to give a clear idea of the general appearance, and more especially the details, of Japanese house‐interiors. We shall therefore mainly rely on the various figures, with such aid as description may render.

The first thing that impresses one on entering a Japanese house is the small size and low stud of the rooms. The ceilings are so low that in many cases one can easily touch them, and in going from one room to another one is apt to strike his head against the _kamoi,_ or lintel. He notices also the constructive features everywhere apparent,—in the stout wooden posts, supports, cross‐ties, etc. The rectangular shape of the rooms, and the general absence of all jogs and recesses save the _tokonoma_ and companion recess in the best room are noticeable features. These recesses vary in depth from two to three feet or more, depending on the size of the room, and are almost invariably in that side of the room which runs at a right angle with the verandah (_fig. 96_); or if in the second story, at a right angle with the balcony. The division between the recesses consists of a light partition, partly or wholly closed, which generally separates the recesses into two equal bays. The bay nearest the verandah is called the _tokonoma._ In this recess hang one or two pictures, usually one; and on its floor, which is slightly raised above the level of the mats of the main floor, stands a vase or some other ornament. The companion bay has usually a little closet or cupboard closed by sliding screens, and one or two shelves above, and also another long shelf near its ceiling, all closed by sliding screens. At the risk of some repetition, more special reference will be made farther on to these peculiar and eminently characteristic features of the Japanese house.

[Fig. 96.—Guest‐room in Hachi‐ishi.]

Fig. 96.—Guest‐room in Hachi‐ishi.

In my remarks on Japanese house‐construction, in Chapter I., allusion was made to the movable partitions dividing the rooms, consisting of light frames of wood covered with paper. These are nearly six feet in height, and about three feet in width. The frame‐work of a house, as we have already said, is arranged with special reference to the sliding screens, as well as to the number of mats which are to cover the floor. In each corner of the room is a square post, and within eighteen inches or two feet of the ceiling cross‐beams ran from post to post. These cross‐beams have grooves on their under side in which the screens are to run. Not only are most of the partitions between the rooms made up of sliding screens, but a large portion of the exterior partitions as well are composed of these light and adjustable devices. A house may have a suite of three or four rooms in a line, and the outside partitions be made up entirely of these movable screens and the necessary posts to support the roof,—these posts coming in the corners of the rooms and marking the divisions between the rooms. The outer screens are covered with white paper, and when closed, a subdued and diffused light enters the room. They may be quickly removed, leaving the entire front of the house open to the air and sunshine. The screens between the rooms are covered with a thick paper, which may be left plain, or ornamented with sketchy or elaborate drawings.

The almost entire absence of swinging doors is at once noticeable, though now and then one sees them in other portions of the house. The absence of all paint, varnish, oil, or filling, which, too often defaces our rooms at home, is at once remarked; and the ridiculous absurdity of covering a good grained wood‐surface with paint, and then with brush and comb trying to imitate Nature by scratching in a series of lines, the Japanese are never guilty of. On the contrary, the wood is left in just the condition in which it leaves the cabinet‐maker’s plane, with a simple surface, smooth but not polished,—though polished surfaces occur, however, which will be referred to in the proper place. Oftentimes in some of the parts the original surface of the wood is left, sometimes with the bark retained. Whenever the Japanese workman can leave a bit of Nature in this way he is delighted to do so. He is sure to avail himself of all curious features in wood: it may be the effect of some fungoid growth which marks a bamboo curiously; or the sinuous tracks produced by the larvae of some beetle that oftentimes traces the surface of wood, just below the bark, with curious designs; or a knot or burl. His eye never misses these features in finishing a room.

The floors are often roughly made, for the reason that straw mats, two or three inches in thickness, cover them completely. In our remarks on house‐ construction, allusion has already been made to the dimensions of these mats.

Before proceeding further into the details of the rooms, it will be well to examine the plans of a few dwellings copied directly from the architect’s drawings. The first plan given (_fig. 97_) is that of a house built in Tokio a few years ago, in which the writer has spent many pleasant hours. The main house measures twenty‐one by thirty‐one feet; the L measures fifteen by twenty‐four feet. The solid black squares represent the heavier upright beams which support the roof. The solid black circles represent the support for the L as well as for the verandah roof. The areas marked with close parallel lines indicate the verandah, while the double parallel lines indicate the sliding screens,—the solid black lines showing the permanent partitions. The kitchen, bathroom, and certain platforms are indicated by parallel lines somewhat wider apart than those that indicate the verandah. The lines running obliquely indicate an area where the boards run towards a central gutter slightly depressed below the common level of the floor. Here stands the large earthen water‐jar or the wooden bath‐tub; and water spilled upon the floor finds its way out of the house by the gutter. The small areas on the outside of the house, shaded in section, represent the closets or cases in which the storm‐blinds or wooden shutters, which so effectually close the house at night, are stowed away in the day‐time. The house contains a vestibule, a hall, seven rooms, not including the kitchen, and nine closets. These rooms, if named after our nomenclature, would be as follows: study, library, parlor, sitting‐ room, dining‐room, bed‐room, servants’‐room, and kitchen. As no room contains any article of furniture like a bedstead.—the bed consisting of wadded comforters, being made up temporarily upon the soft mats,—it is obvious that the bedding can be placed in any room in the house. The absence of nearly all furniture gives one an uninterrupted sweep of the floor, so that the entire floor can be covered with sleepers if necessary,—a great convenience certainly when one has to entertain unexpectedly a crowd of guests over‐night. Certain closets are used as receptacles for the comforters, where they are stowed away during the day‐ time.

The absence of all barns, wood‐sheds, and other out‐houses is particularly noticeable, and as the house has no cellar, one wonders where the fuel is stowed. In certain areas of the kitchen floor the planks are removable, the edges of special planks being notched to admit the finger, so that they can be lifted up one by one; and beneath them a large space is revealed, in which wood and charcoal are kept. In the vestibule, which has an earth floor, is a narrow area of wood flush with the floor within, and in this also the boards may be lifted up in a similar way, disclosing a space below, wherein the wooden clogs and umbrellas may be stowed out of sight. These arrangements in the hall are seen in the houses of the moderately well‐to‐do people, but not, so far as I know, in the houses of the wealthy.

[Fig. 97.—Plan of dwelling‐house in Tokio.]

Fig. 97.—Plan of dwelling‐house in Tokio. _P,_ Parlor or Guest‐room; _S,_ Sitting‐room; _D,_ Dining‐room; _L,_ Library, _St,_ Study, _SR_ Servants’ Room; _B,_ Bed‐room, _K,_ Kitchen, _H,_ Hall; _V_ Vestibule; _C,_ Closet; _T_ Tokonoma; _Sh,_ Shrine, _U_ and _L,_ Privy.

In this house the dining‐room and library are six‐mat rooms, the parlor is an eight‐mat room, and the sitting‐room a four and one‐half mat room; that is, the floor of each room accommodates the number of mats mentioned. The last three named rooms are bordered by the verandah.

The expense of this house complete was about one thousand dollars. The land upon which it stood contained about 10,800 square feet, and was valued at three hundred and thirty dollars. Upon this the Government demanded a tax of five dollars. The house furnished with these mats, requires little else with which to begin house‐keeping.

A comfortable house, fit for the habitation of a family of four or five, may be built for a far less sum of money, and the fewness and cheapness of the articles necessary to furnish it surpass belief. In mentioning such a modest house and furnishing, the reader must not imagine that the family are constrained for want of room, or stinted in the necessary furniture; on the contrary, they are enabled to live in the most comfortable manner. Their wants are few, and their tastes are simple and refined. They live without the slightest ostentation; no false display leads them into criminal debt. The monstrous bills for carpets, curtains, furniture, silver, dishes, etc., often entailed upon young house‐keepers at home in any attempt at house‐keeping,—the premonition even of such bills often preventing marriage,—are social miseries that the Japanese happily know but little about.

Simple as the house just given appears to be, there is quite as much variety in the arrangement of their rooms as with us. There are cheap types of houses in Japan, as in our country, where room follows room in a certain sequence; but the slightest attention to these matters will not only show great variety in their plans, but equally great variety in the ornamental finishing of their apartments.

The plan shown in _fig. 98_ is that of the house represented in figs. 36 and 37. The details are figured as in the previous plan. This house has on the ground‐floor seven rooms besides the kitchen, hall, and bath‐room. The kitchen and bath‐room are indicated, as in the former plan, by their floors being ruled in wide parallel lines,—the lines running obliquely, as in the former case, indicating the bath‐room or wash‐rooms.

The owner of this house has often welcomed me to its soft mats and quiet atmosphere, and in the enjoyment of them I have often wondered as to the impressions one would get if he could be suddenly transferred from his own home to this unpretentious house, with its quaint and pleasant surroundings. The general nakedness, or rather emptiness, of the apartments would be the first thing noticed; then gradually the perfect harmony of the tinted walls with the wood finish would be observed. The orderly adjusted screens, with their curious free‐hand ink‐drawings, or conventional designs on the paper of so subdued and intangible a character that special attention must be directed to them to perceive their nature; the clean and comfortable mats everywhere smoothly covering the floor; the natural woods composing the ceiling and the structural finishing of the room everywhere apparent; the customary recesses with their cupboard and shelves, and the room‐wide lintel with its elaborate lattice or carving above,—all these would leave lasting impressions of the exquisite taste and true refinement of the Japanese.

I noticed that a peculiarly agreeable odor of the wood used in the structure of this house seemed to fill the air of the rooms with a a delicate perfume;(12) and in this connection I was led to think of the rooms I had seen in America encumbered with chairs, bureaus, tables, bedsteads, wash‐stands, etc., and of the dusty carpets and suffocating wall‐paper, hot with some frantic design, and perforated with a pair of quadrangular openings, wholly or partially closed against light and air. Recalling this labyrinth of varnished furniture, I could but remember how much work is entailed upon some one properly to attend to such a room; and enjoying by contrast the fresh air and broad flood of light, limited only by the dimensions of the room, which this Japanese house afforded, I could not recall with any pleasure the stifling apartments with which I had been familiar at home.

[Fig. 98.—Plan of dwelling‐house in Tokio.]

Fig. 98.—Plan of dwelling‐house in Tokio. _P,_ Parlor or Guest‐room; _B,_
Bed‐room, _K,_ Kitchen, _SR_ Servants’ Room; _BR,_ Bath Room, _E, E,_
Side‐entrances, _V_ Vestibule; _H,_ Hall; _WR,_ Waiting‐room; _C,_ Closet;
_T_ Tokonoma; _U_ and _L,_ Privy.

If a foreigner is not satisfied with the severe simplicity, and what might at first strike him as a meagreness, in the appointments of a Japanese house, and is nevertheless a man of taste, he is compelled to admit that its paucity of furniture and carpets spares one the misery of certain painful feelings that incongruities always produce. He recalls with satisfaction certain works on household art, in which it is maintained that a table with carved cherubs beneath, against whose absurd contours one knocks his legs, is an abomination; and that carpets which have depicted upon them winged angels, lions, or tigers,—or, worse still, a simpering and reddened maiden being made love to by an equally ruddy shepherd,—are hardly the proper surfaces to tread upon with comfort, though one may take a certain grim delight in wiping his soiled boots upon them. In the Japanese house the traveller is at least not exasperated with such a medley of dreadful things; he is certainly spared the pains that “civilized” styles of appointing and furnishing often produce. Mr. Lowell truthfully remarks on “the waste, and aimlessness of our American luxury, which is an abject enslavement to tawdry upholstery.”

We are digressing, however. In the plan referred to, an idea of the size of the rooms may be formed by observing the number of mats in each room, and recalling the size of the mats, which is about three feet by six. It will be seen that the rooms are small, much smaller than those of a similar class of American houses, though appearing more roomy from the absence of furniture. The three rooms bordering the verandah and facing the garden are readily thrown into one, and thus a continuous apartment is secured, measuring thirty‐six feet in length by twelve in width; and this is uninterrupted, with the exception of one small partition.(13)

In the manner of building, one recognizes the propriety of constructive art as being in better taste; and in a Japanese house one sees this principle carried out to perfection. The ceiling of boards, the corner posts and middle posts and transverse ties are in plain sight. The corner posts which support the roof play their part as a decorative feature, as they pass stoutly upward from the ground beneath. A fringe of rafters rib the lower surface of the wide overhanging eaves, and these in turn rest firmly on an unhewn beam which runs as a girder from one side of the verandah to the other. The house is simply charming in all its appointments, and as a summer‐house during the many long hot months it is incomparable. In the raw and rainy days of winter, however, it is not so pleasant, at least to a foreigner,—though I question whether to a Japanese it is more unpleasant than the ordinary houses at home are with us, with some of the apartments hot and stifling, and things cracking with the furnace heat, while other parts are splitting with the cold; with gas from the furnace, and chimneys that often refuse to draw, and an impalpable though tangible soot and coal‐dust settling on every object, and many other abominations that are too well known. The Japanese do not suffer from the cold as we do. Moreover, when in the house they clothe themselves much more warmly; and for what little artificial warmth they desire, small receptacles containing charcoal are provided, over which they warm themselves, at the same time keeping their feet warm, as a hen does her eggs, by sitting on them. Their indifference to cold is seen in the fact that in their winter‐parties the rooms will often be entirely open to the garden, which may be glistening with a fresh snowfall. Their winters are of course much milder than our Northern winters. At such seasons, however, an American misses in Japan the cheerful open fireplace around which the family in his own country is wont to gather; indeed, with the social character of our family life a Japanese house to us would be in winter comfortless to the last degree.

The differences between the houses of the nobles and the _samurai_ are quite as great as the differences between these latter houses and the rude shelters of the peasant class. The differences between the interior finish of the houses of the first two mentioned classes are perhaps not so marked, as in both cases clean wood‐work, simplicity of style, and purity of finish are aimed at; but the house of the noble is marked by a grander entrance, a far greater extent of rooms and passages, and a modification in the arrangement of certain rooms and passages not seen in the ordinary house.

The accompanying plan of a Daimio’s house (_fig. 99_)(14) is from a drawing made by Mr. Miyasaki, a student in the Kaikoshia, a private school of architecture in Tokio, and exhibited with other plans at the late International Health and Education Exhibition held in London. Through the kindness of Mr. S. Tejima the Japanese commissioner, I have been enabled to examine and study these plans.

[Fig. 99.—Plan of a portion of a Daimyo’s residence.]

Fig. 99.—Plan of a portion of a Daimyo’s residence.

The punctilious way in which guests or official callers were received by the Daimio is indicated by a curious modification of the floor of one of a suite of rooms, which is raised a few inches above the level of the other floors, forming a sort of dais. These rooms are bordered by a sort of passage‐way, or intermediate portion, called the _iri‐kawa,_ which comes between the room and the verandah. To be more explicit: within the boundary of the principal guest‐room there appears to be a suite of smaller rooms marked off by _shōji;_ one of these rooms called the _ge‐ dan_ has its floor on a level with the other floors of the house. The other room, called the _jō‐dan,_ has its floor raised to a height of three or four inches above that of the _ge‐dan,_ its boundary or border being marked by a polished plank forming a frame, so to speak, for the mats. On that side of the _jō‐dan_ away from the _ge‐dan_ are the _tokonoma_ and _chigai‐dana._ On entering such a room from the verandah one passes through the usual _shōji,_ and then across a matted area called the _iri‐ kawa,_ the width of one mat or more; here he comes to another line of sliding screens, which open into the apartments just described. When the Daimio receives the calls from those who come to congratulate him on New Year’s day, and other important occasions, he sits in great dignity in the _jō‐dan;_ his chief minister and other attendants occupy the _iri‐kawa,_ while the visitors enter the _ge‐dan,_ and there make their obeisance to the Worshipful Daimio Sama. In the same plan there is another suite of rooms called the _kami‐noma_ and _tsugi‐noma_ surrounded by _iri‐kawa,_ probably used for similar purposes.

In this plan the close parallel lines indicate the verandahs; the thick lines, permanent partitions; and the small black squares, the upright posts. The lines of _shōji_ and _fusuma_ are shown by the thin lines, which with the thick lines represent the boundaries of the rooms, passage‐ ways, etc.

A more minute description of the mats may be given at this point. A brief allusion has already been made to them in the remarks on house‐ construction. These mats, or _tatami,_ are made very carefully of straw, matted and bound together with stout string to the thickness of two inches or more,—the upper surface being covered with a straw‐matting precisely like the Canton matting we are familiar with, though in the better class of mats of a little finer quality. The edges are trimmed true and square, and the two longer sides are bordered on the upper surface and edge with a strip of black linen an inch or more in width (_fig. 100_).

The making of mats is quite a separate trade from that of making the straw‐matting with which they are covered. The mat‐maker may often be seen at work in front of his door, crouching down to a low frame upon which the mat rests.

[Fig. 100.—Mat.]

Fig. 100.—Mat.

As we have before remarked, the architect invariably plans his rooms to accommodate a certain number of mats; and since these mats have a definite size, any indication on the plan of the number of mats a room is to contain gives at once its dimensions also. The mats are laid in the following numbers,—two, three, four and one‐half, six, eight, ten, twelve, fourteen, sixteen, and so on. In the two‐mat room the mats are laid side by side. In the three‐mat room the mats may be laid side by side, or two mats in one way and the third mat crosswise at the end. In the four and one‐half mat room the mats are laid with the half‐mat in one corner. The six and eight mat rooms are the most common‐sized rooms; and this gives some indication of the small size of the ordinary Japanese room and house,—the six‐mat room being about nine feet by twelve; the eight‐mat room being twelve by twelve; and the ten‐mat room being twelve by fifteen. The accompanying sketch (_fig. 101_) shows the usual arrangements for these mats.

[Fig. 101.—Arrangement of mats in different‐sized rooms.]

Fig. 101.—Arrangement of mats in different‐sized rooms.

In adjusting mats to the floor, the corners of four mats are never allowed to come together, but are arranged so that the corners of two mats abut against the side of a third. They are supposed to be arranged in the direction of a closely‐wound spiral (see dotted line in _fig. 101_). The edges of the longer sides of the ordinary mats are bound with a narrow strip of black linen, as before remarked. In the houses of the nobles this border strip has figures worked into it in black and white, as may be seen by reference to Japanese illustrated books showing interiors. These mats fit tightly, and the floor upon which they rest, never being in sight, is generally made of rough boards with open joints. The mat, as you step upon it, yields slightly to the pressure of the foot; and old mats get to be slightly uneven and somewhat hard from continual use. From the nature of this soft‐matted floor shoes are never worn upon it,—the Japanese invariably leaving their wooden clogs outside the house, either on the stepping‐stones or on the earth‐floor at the entrance. The wearing of one’s shoes in the house is one of the many coarse and rude ways in which a foreigner is likely to offend these people. The hard heels of a boot or shoe not only leave deep indentations in the upper matting, but oftentimes break through. Happily, however, the act of removing one’s shoes on entering the house is one of the very few customs that foreigners recognize,—the necessity of compliance being too obvious to dispute. In spring‐time, or during a rain of long duration, the mats become damp and musty; and when a day of sunshine comes they are taken up and stacked, like cards, in front of the house to dry. They are also removed at times and well beaten. Their very nature affords abundant hiding‐places for fleas, which are the unmitigated misery of foreigners who travel in Japan; though even this annoyance is generally absent in private houses of the better classes, as is the case with similar pests in our country.

Upon these mats the people eat, sleep, and die; they represent the bed, chair, lounge, and sometimes table, combined. In resting upon them the Japanese assume a kneeling position,—the legs turned beneath, and the haunches resting upon the calves of the legs and the inner sides of the heels; the toes turned in so that the upper and outer part of the instep bears directly on the mats. _Fig. 102_ represents a woman in the attitude of sitting. In old people one often notices a callosity on that part of the foot which comes in contact with the mat, and but for a knowledge of the customs of the people in this matter might well wonder how such a hardening of the flesh could occur in such an odd place. This position is so painful to a foreigner that it is only with a great deal of practice he can become accustomed to it. Even the Japanese who have been abroad for several years find it excessively difficult and painful to resume this habit. In this attitude the Japanese receive their company. Hand‐shaking is unknown, but bows of various degrees of profundity are made by placing the hands together upon the mats and bowing until the head oftentimes touches the hands. In this ceremony the back is kept parallel with the floor, or nearly so.

[Fig. 102.—Attitude of woman in sitting.]

Fig. 102.—Attitude of woman in sitting.

At meal‐times the food is served in lacquer and porcelain dishes on lacquer trays, placed upon the floor in front of the kneeling family; and in this position the repast is taken.

At night a heavily wadded comforter is placed upon the floor; another equally thick is provided for a blanket, a pillow of diminutive proportions for a head‐support,—and the bed is made. In the morning these articles are stowed away in a large closet. Further reference will be made to bedding in the proper place.

A good quality of mats can be made for one dollar and a half a‐piece; though they sometimes cost three or four dollars, and even a higher price. The poorest mats cost from sixty to eighty cents a‐piece. The matting for the entire house represented in plan _fig. 97_ cost fifty‐two dollars and fifty cents.

Reference has already been made to the sliding screens, and as they form so important and distinct a feature in the Japanese house, a more special description of them is necessary. In our American houses a lintel is the horizontal beam placed over the door; this is cased with wood, and has a jamb or recess corresponding to the vertical recesses into which the door shuts. For the sake of clearness, we may imagine a lintel running entirely across the room from one corner to the other, and this is the _kamoi_ of the Japanese room. The beam is not cased. On its under surface run two deep and closely parallel grooves, and directly beneath this _kamoi_ on the floor a surface of wood shows in which are two exceedingly shallow grooves. This surface is level with the mats; and in these grooves the screens run. The grooves in the _kamoi_ are made deep, in order that the screens may be lifted out of the floor‐grooves and then dropped from the upper ones, and thus removed. In this way a suite of rooms can be quickly turned into one, by the removal of the screens. The grooves are sufficiently wide apart to permit the screens being pushed by each other. From the adjustable nature of these sliding partitions one may have the opening between the rooms of any width he desires.

[Fig. 103.—Section through verandah and guest‐room.]

Fig. 103.—Section through verandah and guest‐room.

There are two forms of these sliding screens,—the one kind, called _fusuma,_ forming the partitions between rooms; the other kind, called _shōji,_ coming on the outer sides of the rooms next to the verandah, and forming the substitutes for windows (_fig. 103_).

The _fusuma_ forming the movable partitions between the rooms are covered on both sides with thick paper; and as it was customary in past times to use Chinese paper for this purpose, these devices are also called _kara‐ kami,_—“China‐paper.” The frame is not unlike the frame used for the outside screens, consisting of thin vertical and horizontal strips of wood forming a grating, with the meshes four or five inches in width, and two inches in height. The outside frame or border is usually left plain, as is the case with most of their wood‐work. It is not uncommon, however, to see these frames lacquered. The material used for covering them consists of a stout, thick, and durable paper; and this is often richly decorated. Sometimes a continuous scene will stretch like a panorama across the whole side of a room. The old castles contain some celebrated paintings on these _fusuma,_ by famous artists. The use of heavy gold‐leaf in combination with the paintings produces a decorative effect rich beyond description. In the commoner houses the _fusuma_ are often undecorated save by the paper which covers them; and the material for this purpose is infinite in its variety,—some kinds being curiously wrinkled, other kinds seeming to have interwoven in their texture the delicate green threads of some sea‐ weed; while other kinds still will have the rich brown sheaths of bamboo shoots worked into the paper, producing a quaint and pleasing effect. Often the paper is perfectly plain; and if by chance an artist friend comes to the house, he is asked to leave some little sketch upon these surfaces as a memento of his visit: others perhaps may have already covered portions of the surface with some landscape or spray of flowers. In old inns one has often pointed out to him the work of some famous artist, who probably paid his score in this way.

While the _fusuma_ are almost invariably covered with thick and opaque paper, it occurs sometimes that light is required in a back‐room; in that case, while the upper and lower third of the _fusuma_ retains its usual character, the central third has a _shōji_ inserted,—that is, a slight frame‐work covered with white paper, through which light enters as in the outside screens. This frame is removable, so that it can be re‐covered with paper when required. This frame‐work is often made in ornamental patterns, geometrical or natural designs being common. In summer another kind of frame may be substituted in the _fusuma,_ termed a _yoshi‐do,_ in which a kind of rush called _yoshi_ takes the place of paper; the _yoshi_ is arranged in a close grating through which the air has free access and a little light may enter. The _fusuma_ may be entirely composed of _yoshi_ and the appropriate frame‐work to hold it. One of this kind is represented in _fig. 104_. The lower portion consists of a panel of dark cedar, in which are cut or perforated the figures of bats; above this panel are transverse bars of light cedar, and filling up the border of the frame is a close grating of brown reeds or rushes placed vertically; at the top is a wide interspace crossed by a single root of bamboo. The _yoshi_ resembles miniature bamboo, the rods being the size of an ordinary wheat‐ straw, and having a warm brown tint. This is employed in many ways in the decoration of interiors, and the use of so fragile and delicate a material in house‐finish is one of the many indications of the quiet and gentle manners of the Japanese.

[Fig. 104.—Reed‐screen.]

Fig. 104.—Reed‐screen.

Oftentimes a narrow permanent partition occurs in which is an opening,—the width of one _fusuma,—_ which takes the place of our swinging and slamming door. In this case the _fusuma_ is a more solid and durable structure. The one shown in _fig. 105_ is of the nature of a door, since it guards the opening which leads from the hall to the other apartments of the house. A rich and varied effect is produced by the use and arrangement of light and dark bamboo and heavily‐grained wood, the central panels being of dark cedar. In the vestibule one often sees sliding screens consisting of a single panel of richly‐grained cedar.

[Fig. 105.—Sliding panel.]

Fig. 105.—Sliding panel.

Conveniences for pushing back the _fusuma_ are secured in a variety of ways; the usual form consists of an oval or circular plate of thin metal, having a depressed area, inserted in the _fusuma_ in about the same position a doorknob would be with us. These are called _hikite,_ and often present beautiful examples of metal‐work, being elaborately carved and sometimes enamelled. The same caprices and delights in ornamentation seen elsewhere in their work find full play in the designs of the _hikite._ _Fig. 106_ shows one from the house of a noble; its design represents an inkstone and two brushes,—the brushes being silvered and tipped with lacquer, while in the recessed portion is engraved a dragon. Fig. 107 represents one made of copper, in which the leaves and berries are enamelled; the leaves green, and the berries red and white. Figs. 108 and 109 show more pretentious as well as cheaper forms, the designs being stamped and not cut by hand. Sometimes _hikite_ are made of porcelain. In the cheaper forms of _fusuma,_ the _hikite_ consists of a depressed area in the paper formed by a modification of the frame itself. In illustrations of fine interiors one often notices a form of _hikite_ from which hang two short cords of silk tied in certain formal ways, on the ends of which are tassels. From the almost universal presence of these in old illustrated books, one is led to believe that formerly the cord was the usual handle by which the _fusuma_ was pulled back and forth, and that these gradually fell into disuse, the recessed plate of metal alone remaining. This form of _hikite_ is rarely seen to‐day, though a few of the old Daimios’ houses still possess it. _Fig. 110_ represents two forms copied from a book entitled “Tategu Hinagata.”

[Fig. 106.—Hikite.]

Fig. 106.—Hikite.

[Fig. 107.—Hikite.]

Fig. 107.—Hikite.

[Fig. 108.—Hikite.]

Fig. 108.—Hikite.

[Fig. 109.—Hikite.]

Fig. 109.—Hikite.

[Fig. 110.—Hikite with cord.]

Fig. 110.—Hikite with cord.

The outside screens, or _shōji,_ which take the place of our windows, are those screens which border the verandah, or come on that side of the room towards the exterior wall of the house. These consist of a light frame‐ work made of thin bars of wood crossing and matched into each other, leaving small rectangular interspaces. The lower portion of the _shōji,_ to the height of a foot from the floor, is usually a wood‐panel, as a protection against careless feet as well as to strengthen the frame. The _shōji_ are covered on the outside with white paper. The only light the room receives when the _shōji_ are closed comes through this paper, and the room is flooded with a soft diffused light which is very agreeable. The _hikite_ for pushing the _shōji_ back is arranged by one of the rectangular spaces being papered on the opposite side, thus leaving a convenient recess for the fingers.

Sometimes little holes or rents are accidentally made in this paper‐ covering of the _shōji;_ and in the mending of these places the Japanese, ever true in their artistic feeling, repair the damage, not by square bits of paper as we should probably, but by cutting out pretty designs of cherry or plum blossoms and patching the rents with these. When observing this artistic device I have often wondered how the broken panes of some of our country houses must look to a Japanese,—the repairs being effected by the use of dirty bags stuffed with straw, or more commonly by battered hats jammed into the gaps. Sometimes the frame of a _shōji_ gets sprung or thrown out of its true rectangular shape; this is remedied by inserting at intervals in the meshes of the frame‐work elastic strips of bamboo, and the constant pressure of these strips in one direction tends to bring the frame straight again. _Fig. 111_ illustrates the appearance of this; the curved lines representing the elastic strips.

[Fig. 111.—Straightening shōji frame.]

Fig. 111.—Straightening shōji frame.

There are innumerable designs employed in the _shōji;_ and in this, as in many other parts of the interior, the Japanese show an infinite amount of taste and ingenuity. _Fig. 112_ illustrates one of these ornamental forms. At present in the cities it is common to see a narrow strip of window glass inserted across the _shōji_ about two feet from the floor. It seems odd at first sight to see it placed so low, until one recalls the fact that the inmates sit on the mats, and the glass in this position is on a level with their line of vision. As a general rule the designs for the _shōji_ are more simple than those employed for certain exterior openings which may be regarded as windows, while those which cover the openings between the rooms are most complex and elaborate. Further reference, however, will be made to these in the proper place.

[Fig. 112.—Shōji with ornamental frame.]

Fig. 112.—Shōji with ornamental frame.

It has been necessary to anticipate the special description of the details of a room in so far as a description of the mats and screens were concerned, since a general idea of the interior could not be well understood without clearly understanding the nature of those objects which form inseparable elements of every Japanese room, and which are so unlike anything to which we are accustomed. Having given these features, it may be well to glance at a general view of the few typical rooms before examining farther into the details of their finish.

The room shown in _fig. 96_ gives a fair idea of the appearance of the guest‐room with its two bays or recesses, the _tokonoma_ and _chigai‐ dana,_—one of which, the _tokonoma,_ is a clear recess, in which usually hangs a picture; and in the other is a small closet and shelf, and an additional shelf above, closed by sliding doors. The sketch was taken from the adjoining room, the _fusuma_ between the two having been removed. The grooves for the _fusuma_ may be seen in the floor and in the _kamoi_ overhead. The farther recess is called the _tokonoma,_ which means literally, “bed‐space.” This recess, or at least its raised platform, is supposed to have been anciently used for the bed‐place.(15)

Let us pause for a moment to consider the peculiar features of this room. The partition separating the two recesses has for its post a stick of timber, from which the bark only has been removed; and this post, or _toko‐bashira_ as it is called, is almost invariably a stick of wood in its natural state, or with the bark only removed; and if it is gnarled, or tortuous in grain, or if it presents knots or burls, it is all the more desirable. Sometimes the post may be hewn in such a way that in section it has an octagonal form,—the cutting being done in broad scarfs, giving it a peculiar appearance as shown in _fig. 113_. Sometimes the post may have one or two branches above, which are worked into the structure as an ornamental feature. The ceiling of the _tokonoma_ is usually, if not always, flush, with the ceiling of the room, while that of the _chigai‐ dana_ is much lower. The floor of the _tokonoma_ is higher than that of the _chigai‐dana,_ and its sill may be rough or finished; and even when finished squarely, some natural surface may be left through the curvature of the stick from which it has been hewn, and which had been selected for this very peculiarity,—a feature, by the way, that our carpenters would regard as a blemish. The floor of the _tokonoma_ is in nearly every case a polished plank; the floor of the _chigai‐dana_ is also of polished wood. A large and deep _tokonoma_ may have a mat, or _tatami,_ fitted into the floor; and this is generally bordered with a white strip, and not with black as in the floor _tatami._ The _tatami_ in this place is found in the houses of the Daimios.

[Fig. 113.—Portion of Toko‐Bashira.]

Fig. 113.—Portion of Toko‐Bashira.

[Figs. 114, 115, 116, and 117. Ornamental‐headed nails.]

Figs. 114, 115, 116, and 117. Ornamental‐headed nails.

Spanning the _tokonoma_ above is a finished beam a foot or more below the ceiling, the interspace above being plastered, as are the walls of both recesses. A similar beam spans the _chigai‐dana_ at a somewhat lower level. When the cross‐beam of the _chigai‐dana_ connects with the _toko‐ bashira,_ as well as in the joining of other horizontal beams with the uprights, ornamental‐headed nails are used. These are often of elaborately‐wrought metal, representing a variety of natural or conventional forms. Figs. 114, 115, 116, and 117 present a few of the cheaper forms used; these being of cast metal, the finer lines only having been cut by hand. These nails, or _kazari‐kugi,_ are strictly ornamental, having only a spur behind to hold them into the wood.

The partition dividing these two recesses often has an ornamental opening, either in the form of a small window barred with bamboo, or left open; or this opening may be near the floor, with its border made of a curved stick of wood, as in the figure we are now describing.

In the _chigai‐dana_ there are always one or more shelves ranged in an alternating manner, with usually a continuous shelf above closed by sliding doors. A little closet on the floor in the corner of the recess is also closed by screens, as shown in the figure. The wood‐work of this may be quaintly‐shaped sticks or highly‐polished wood.

This room illustrates very clearly a peculiar feature in Japanese decoration,—that of avoiding, as far as possible, bi‐lateral symmetry. Here are two rooms of the same size and shape, the only difference consisting in the farther room having two recesses, while the room nearer has a large closet closed by sliding screens. It will be observed, however, that in the farther room the narrow strips of wood, upon which the boards of the ceiling rest, run parallel to the _tokonoma,_ while in the nearer room the strips run at right angles. The mats in the two rooms, while arranged in the usual manner for an eight‐mat room, are placed in opposite ways; that is to say, as the mats in front of the _tokonoma_ and _chigai‐dana_ are always parallel to these recesses, the other mats are arranged in accordance with these. In the room coming next, the arrangement of mats, while being the same, have the two mats running parallel to the line dividing the rooms, and of course the other mats in accordance with these. This asymmetry is carried out, of course, in the two recesses, which are unlike in every detail,—their floors as well as the lower borders of their hanging partitions being at different levels. And in the details of the _chigai‐dana_ symmetrical arrangement is almost invariably avoided, the little closet on the floor being at one side, while a shelf supported on a single prop runs from the corner of this closet to the other side of the recess; and if another shelf is added, this is arranged in an equally unsymmetrical manner. In fact everywhere, in mats, ceiling, and other details, a two‐sided symmetry is carefully avoided.

How different has been the treatment of similar features in the finish of American rooms! Everywhere in our apartments, halls, school‐houses, inside and out, a monotonous bi‐lateral symmetry is elaborated to the minutest particular, even to bracket and notch in pairs. The fireplace is in the middle of the room, the mantel, and all the work about this opening, duplicated with painful accuracy on each side of a median line; every ornament on the mantel‐shelf is in pairs, and these are arranged in the same way; a single object, like a French clock, is adjusted in the dead centre of this shelf, so that each half of the mantel shall get its half of a clock; a pair of andirons below, and portraits of ancestral progenitors on each side above keep up this intolerable monotony; and opposite, two windows with draped curtains parted right and left, and a symmetrical table or cabinet between the two, are in rigid adherence to this senseless scheme. And outside the monotony is still more dreadful, even to the fences, carriage‐way and flower‐beds; indeed, false windows are introduced in adherence to this inane persistency in traditional methods. Within ten years some progress has been made among the better class of American houses in breaking away from this false and tiresome idea, and our houses look all the prettier for these changes. In decoration, as well, we have made great strides in the same direction, thanks to the influence of Japanese methods.

While the general description just given of the _tokonoma_ and _chigai‐ dana_ may be regarded as typical of the prevailing features of these recesses, nevertheless their forms and peculiarities are infinitely varied. It is indeed rare to find the arrangement of the shelves and cupboards in the _chigai‐dana_ alike in any two houses, as will be seen by a study of the figures which are to follow. Usually these two recesses are side by side, and run at right angles with the verandah, the _tokonoma_ almost invariably coming next to the verandah. Sometimes, however, these two recesses may stand at right angles to one another, coming in a corner of the room away from the verandah. The _tokonoma_ may be seen also without its companion recess, and sometimes it may occupy an entire side of the room, in which case it not infrequently accommodates a set of two or three pictures. When these recesses come side by side, it is usual to have an entire mat in front of each recess. The guest of honor is seated on the mat in front of the _tokonoma,_ while the guest next in honor occupies a mat in front of the _chigai‐dana._

[Fig. 118.—Shelves contrasted with conventional drawing of mist, or
clouds.]

Fig. 118.—Shelves contrasted with conventional drawing of mist, or clouds.

This recess has a variety of names, according to the form and arrangement of the shelves. It is usually called _chigai‐dana,—_ the word _chigai_ meaning “different,” and _dana,_ “shelf,” as the shelves are arranged alternately. It is also called _usukasumi‐dana,_ which means “thin mist‐ shelf,”—the shelves in this case being arranged in a way in which they often conventionally represent mist or clouds, as shown in their formal designs of these objects (_fig. 118_), in which the upper outline shows the form of shelf, and the lower outline the conventional drawing of cloud. When only one shelf is seen it may be called _ichi‐yo‐dana;_ the form of the shelf suggests such names as willow‐leaf shelf, fish‐shelf, etc. In this recess, as we have seen, are usually shelves and a cupboard; and the arrangements of these are almost as numberless as the houses containing them,—at least it is rare to see two alike. A shelf in the _chigai‐dana,_ having a rib or raised portion on its free end, is called a _maki‐mono‐dana._ On this shelf the long picture‐scrolls called _maki‐ mono_ are placed; the ceremonial hat was also placed on one of the shelves. It was customary to place on top of the cupboard a lacquer‐box, in which was contained an ink‐stone, brushes, and paper. This box was usually very rich in its gold lacquer and design. In the houses of the nobles the top of the cupboard was also used to hold a wooden tablet called a _shaku,_—an object carried by the nobles in former times, when in the presence of the Emperor. It was anciently used to make memoranda upon, but in later days is carried only as a form of court etiquette. The sword‐ rack might also be placed on the cupboard. In honor of distinguished guests the sword‐rack was placed in the _tokonoma_ in the place of honor; that is, in the middle of its floor, or _toko,_ in front of the hanging picture,—though if an incense‐burner occupied this position, then the sword‐rack was placed at one side. While these recesses were usually finished with wood in its natural state or simply planed, in the houses of the nobles this finish was often richly lacquered.

[Fig. 119.—Guest‐room.]

Fig. 119.—Guest‐room.

Resuming our description of interiors, a peculiar form of room is shown in the house of a gentleman of high rank (_fig. 119_). Here the _tokonoma_ was much larger than its companion recess, which in this case was next to the verandah. The _chigai‐dana_ was small and low, and the spaces beneath the shelves were enclosed by sliding screens forming cupboards. The _tokonoma_ was large and deep, and its floor was covered by a mat or _tatami;_ the flower‐vase was at one side.

[Fig. 120.—Guest‐room, with recesses in corners.]

Fig. 120.—Guest‐room, with recesses in corners.

The depth of the _tokonoma_ is generally governed by the size of the room. The appointments of this recess are also always in proportion,—the pictures and flower‐vase being of large size in the one just described.

[Fig. 121.—Guest‐room showing circular window.]

Fig. 121.—Guest‐room showing circular window.

In a spacious hall in Tokio is a _tokonoma_ six feet in depth, and very wide. The flower‐vases and pictures in this recess were colossal. In an adjoining room to the one last figured the _tokonoma_ came in one corner of the room, and the _chigai‐dana_ was at right angles with it. To the right of the _tokonoma_ was a permanent partition, in the centre of which was a circular window closed by _shōji_ which parted right and left. The _shōji_ may have run within the partition, or rested in a grooved frame on the other side of the wall. Above this circular window and near the ceiling was a long rectangular window, also having _shōji,_ which could be open for ventilation. To the left of the _chigai‐dana_ was a row of deep cupboards enclosed by a set of sliding screens; above was a broad shelf, upon the upper surface of which ran _shōji,_ which when opened revealed another room beyond. The frieze of this recess had a perforated design of waves (_fig. 120_).

Severe and simple as a Japanese room appears to be, it may be seen by this figure how many features for decorative display come in. The ornamental openings or windows with their varied lattices, the sliding screens and the cupboards with their rich sketches of landscapes and trees, the natural woods, indeed many of these features might plainly be adopted without modification for our rooms.

[Fig. 122.—Guest‐room showing writing‐place.]

Fig. 122.—Guest‐room showing writing‐place.

[Fig. 123.—Guest‐room with wide tokonoma.]

Fig. 123.—Guest‐room with wide tokonoma.

In another room (_fig. 121_) of a gentleman famous for his invention of silk‐reeling machinery the _tokonoma,_ instead of being open to the verandah, was protected by a permanent partition filling half the side of the room bordering the verandah. In this partition was a large circular window, having a graceful bamboo frame‐work. This opening was closed on the outside by a _shōji,_ which hung on hooks and could be removed when required. In this case the honored guest, when seated in front of the _tokonoma,_ is protected from the wind and sun while the rest of the room may be open. In the place of this partition there is often seen, in houses of the better class, a recess having a low shelf, with cupboards beneath and an ornamental window above. This is the writing‐place (_fig. 122_); and upon the shelf are placed the ink‐stone, water‐bottle, brush‐rest and brushes, paper‐weight, and other conveniences of a literary man. Above are often suspended a bell and wooden hammer, to call the servants when required. A hanging vase of flowers is often suspended from the partition above. For want of an original sketch showing this recess I have adapted one from a Japanese book, entitled “Daiku Tana Hinagata,” Vol. II. Those who have chanced to see the club rooms of the Koyokuan will recall the elaborate and beautiful panel of geometric work that fills the window of a recess of this nature.

[Fig. 124.—Small guest‐room.]

Fig. 124.—Small guest‐room.

In _Fig. 123_ the _tokonoma_ occupies almost the entire side of the room, the _chigai‐dana_ being reduced to an angular cupboard placed in the corner and a small hooded partition hanging down from above; the small window near by, with bamboo lattice, opened into another room beyond. A _tokonoma_ of this kind is available for the display of sets of three or four pictures. This room was in the house of a former Daimio.