But we are digressing. Having given some idea of the formal character of the tea-ceremonies, it is not to be wondered at that special rooms, and even special buildings, should be designed and built expressly for those observances. We give a few illustrations of the interiors of rooms used for this purpose.

Fig. 130 is that of a room in Nan-en-ji temple, in Kioto, said to have been specially designed, in the early part of the seventeenth century, by Kobori Yenshiu,—a famous master of tea-ceremonies, and a founder of one of its schools. The room was exceedingly small, a four and a half mat room I believe, which is the usual size. The drawing, from necessity of perspective, makes it appear much larger. The ceiling was of rush and bamboo; the walls were roughly plastered with bluish-gray clay; the cross-ties and uprights were of pine, with the bark retained. The room had eight small windows of various sizes, placed at various [pg 154] heights in different parts of the room; and this was in accordance with Yenshiu's taste. Only one recess, the tokonoma, is seen in the room,—in which may hang at the time of a party a picture, to be replaced, at a certain period of the ceremony, by a hanging basket of flowers. The ro, or fireplace, is a depressed area in the floor, deep enough to hold a considerable amount of ashes, as well as a tripod upon which the kettle rests.

Fig. 131 represents an odd-looking tearoom, at the Fujimi pottery, in Nagoya, where tea was made and served to us by the potter's daughter. The room was simple enough, yet quite ornate compared with the one first described. The ceiling consisted of a matting of thin wood-strips, bamboo and red pine being used for the cross-ties and uprights. The tokonoma, having a bamboo post, is seen at the left of the figure. The ro, in this case, was triangular.

In fig. 132 is represented a view of a small tea-room at Miyajima; the chasteness of its finish is but feebly conveyed in the figure. Here the ro was circular, and was placed in a wide plank of polished wood. The room was connected with other apartments of the house, and did not constitute a house by itself.

In some houses there is a special place or room adjoining the tea-room, in which the tea-utensils are kept properly arranged, and from which they are brought when tea is made, and to which they are afterwards returned with great formality. Fig. 133 represents one of these rooms in a house in Imado, Tokio. In this room the same simplicity of finish was seen. It was furnished [pg 156] with shelves, a little closet to contain the utensils, and a depressed area in the floor, having for its bottom a bamboo grating through which the water ran when emptied into it. Resting upon this bamboo grating were a huge pottery-vessel for water and a common hand-basin of copper. The floor was of polished wood. At the farther end was the entrance, by means of a low door, closed by fusuma.

In fig. 134 is given the view of a room in a Tokio house that was extremely ornate in its finish. The owner of the house had built it some thirty years before, and had intended carrying out Chinese ideas of design and furnishing. Whether he had got his ideas from books, or had evolved them from his inner consciousness, I do not know; certain it is, that although he had worked into its structure a number of features actually [pg 157] brought from China, I must say that in my limited observations in that country I saw nothing approaching such an interior or building. The effect of the room was certainly charming, and the most elaborate finish with expensive woods had been employed in its construction. It seemed altogether too ornamental for the tea-ceremonies to suit the Japanese taste. The ceiling was particularly unique; for running diagonally across it from one corner to the other was a stout bamboo in two curves, and upon this bamboo was engraved a Chinese poem. The ceiling on one side of the bamboo was finished in large square panels of an elaborately-grained wood; on the other side were small panels of cedar. Exotic woods, palms, bamboo, and red-pine were used for cross-ties [pg 158] and uprights. The panels of the little closet in some cases had beautiful designs painted upon them; other panels were of wood, with the designs inlaid in various colored woods,—the musical instrument, the biwa, shown in the sketch, being inlaid in this way. The walls were tinted a sober brown. It was certainly one of the most unique interiors that I saw in Japan. To the right of the tokonoma the apartment opened into a small entry which led to a flight of stairs,—for this room was in the second story of the house. The corner of the room, as it appeared from the tokonoma, is shown in fig. 135. The long, low window (which also shows in fig. 134) opened on the roof of the entrance below; another narrower and higher window opened on the roof of an L. In the little recess, which has for a corner-post a crooked stick,—the crook forming one border of an opening in the corner.—was hung a picture or a basket of flowers.

The second stories of shops are often used as living rooms. Fig. 136 represents a room of this nature in a shop in Kawagoye, in Musashi, nearly three hundred years old. Two long, low windows, opening on the street, were deeply recessed and heavily barred; above these openings were low deep cupboards, closed by long sliding doors. The room was dusty and unused, but I could not help noticing in this old building, as in the old buildings at home, the heavy character of the framework where it appeared in sight.

Reference has been made to the fact that kura, or fire-proof buildings, are often fitted up for living-rooms. Fig. 137 (see page 160) represents the lower room of the corner building shown on page 75 (fig. 57). It has already been stated that the walls of such a building are of great thickness, and that one small window and doorway are often the only openings in the room. The walls are consequently cold and damp at certain seasons of the year.

For the fitting up of such a room, to adapt it for a living-place, a light frame-work of bamboo is constructed, which stands away from the walls at a distance of two or three feet; upon this, cloth is stretched like a curtain. The frame-work forms a ceiling as well, so that the rough walls and beams of the floor above are concealed by this device. At one side the cloth is arranged to be looped up like a curtain, so that one may pass outside the drapery.

The owner of this apartment was an eminent antiquarian, and the walls of the room were lined with shelves and cases which were filled with old books and pictures, rare scrolls, and bric-a-brac. A loft above, to which access was gained by a perilous flight of steps, was filled with ancient relics of all kinds,—stone implements, old pottery, quaint writing-desks, and rare manuscripts. The cloth which formed this supplementary partition was of a light, thin texture; and when the owner went in search of some object on the other side of it, I could trace him by his candle-light [pg 160] as he wandered about behind the curtain. The furniture us in the room, and shown in the sketch,—consisting of bookshelves, table, hibachi, and other objects,—was in nearly every case precious antiques.

That the rooms of kura were fitted up in this way in past times is evident in the fact that old books not only represent this method in their pictures, but special details of the construction of the framework are given. In an old book in the possession of Mr. K——, published one hundred and eighty years ago, a figure of one of these frames is given, with all the details of its structure, metal sockets, key-bolts, etc., a copy of which may be seen in fig. 138.

In connection with this room, and the manner of looping up the curtains at the side, I got from this scholar the first rational explanation of the meaning of the two narrow bands which hang down from the upper part of the usual form of a Japanese [pg 161] picture,—the kake-mono. That these were survivals of useful appendages,—rudimentary organs, so to speak, there could be no doubt. Mr. K——told me that in former times the pictures, mainly of a religious character, were suspended from a frame. Long bands trailed down behind the picture; and shorter ones, so as not to obscure it, hung down in front. When the picture was rolled up, it was held in position by tying these bands. When the custom came to hang these pictures permanently against the wall, the long bands were finally discarded, while the shorter ones in front survived. In old books there are illustrated methods by which curtain-like screens hanging on frames were tied up in this way,—the long bands being behind, and the short ones showing in front. When the wind blew through the apartment the curtains were tied up; and, curiously enough, the bands on a kake-mono are called fū-tai, or kaze-obi, which literally means “wind-bands.” This is the explanation given me; but it is quite probable that large pictures hanging against the walls, when disturbed by the wind, were tied up by these bands.

While the kura generally stands isolated from the dwelling-house, it is often connected with the house by a light structure of [pg 162] wood, roofed over, and easily demolished in case of a fire. Such an apartment may be used for a kitchen, or porch to a kitchen, or store-room for household utensils. A figure is here given (fig. 139) showing the appearance of a structure of this kind, which is lightly attached to the sides of the kura. This [pg 163] apartment was used as a store-room, and in the sketch is shown a wooden case, lanterns, and buckets, and such objects as might accumulate in a shed or store-room at home.

The ponderous doors of the kura, which are kept permanently open, have casings of boards held in place by a wooden pin, which passes through an iron staple in the door. This casing is to protect the door—which, like the walls of the kura, is composed of mud and plaster supported by a stout frame—from being scarred and battered; and at the same time it is so arranged that in case of fire it can be instantly removed and the door closed. The light structure forming this porch may quickly burn down, leaving the kura intact.

Oftentimes the outside of the kura has a board-casing kept in place by long wooden strips, which drop into staples that [pg 164] are firmly attached to the walls of the kura. These hooks may be seen in fig. 57, though in the case of this building the wooden casing had never been applied. Casings of this nature are provided the better to preserve the walls from the action of the weather.

In fig. 139 (see page 162) the kura had been originally built some fifteen feet from the main house, and subsequently the intervening space had been roofed over as shown in the drawing.

The doors of the kura are ponderous structures, and are usually left open for ventilation; a heavily grated sliding-door, however, closes the entrance effectually when the thick doors are left open. Fig. 140 represents the doorway of an old kura in Kioto illustrating these features. In fig. 141 the large key is the one belonging to the inner grated door, while fig. 142 shows the padlock to the outer doors.

The upper room of the kura is often utilized as a store-room, taking the place of the country attic; and one may find here bundles of dried herbs, corn, an old spinning-wheel, chests, and indeed just such objects as ultimately find a resting-place in our attics at home. In this section it would have been more systematic to deal with the tokonoma and chigai-dana separately; but in the [pg 165] description of interiors, it was difficult to describe them without including under the same consideration these recesses, as they form an integral part of the principal room.

In my remarks on house-construction, reference was made to the ceiling and the way in which it is made and held in place, the form of ceiling there described being the almost universal one throughout the country. The Japanese word for ceiling is tenjo,—literally, “heaven's well.”

In selecting wood for the ceiling, great care is taken to secure boards in which the grain is perfectly even and regular, with no signs of knots. A wood much prized for the ceiling, as well as for other interior finish, is a kind of cedar dug up from swamps in Hakone, and other places in Japan. It is of a rich, warm gray or brown color; and oftentimes planks of enormous thickness are secured for this purpose. This wood is called Jin-dai-sugi, meaning “cedar of God's age.” A wood called hi-no-ki is often used for ceilings.

It is rare to see a ceiling differing from the conventional form, consisting of light, thin, square strips as ceiling-beams, upon which rest crosswise thin planks of wood with their edges overlapping. One sees this form of ceiling everywhere, from north to south, in inns, private dwellings, and shops. This form is as universal in Japan as is the ordinary white plaster-ceiling with us. In many other forms of ceiling, however, wood of the most tortuous grain is preferred.

In the little houses made for the tea-parties the ceiling is often of some rustic design,—either a layer of rush resting on bamboo rafters, or thin, wide strips of wood braided or matted like basket-work.

Sometimes the ceiling instead of being flat is arching; that is, the sides run up like a roof, and meet above in a flat panel, or the ceiling may be made up of panels either square or angular.

A very elaborate and beautiful ceiling is seen in fig. 127 (see page 146). The structure is supposed to be in imitation of country thatched roof. The centre panel consists of a huge plank of cedar, the irregular grain cut out in such a way as to show the lines in high-relief, giving it the appearance of very old wood, in which the softer lines have been worn away. The round sticks which form the frame for the plank, and those bordering the ceiling, as well as those running from the corners of the ceiling to the corners of the plank, are of red pine with the bark unremoved. The radiating rafters are of large yellow bamboo, while the smaller beams running parallel to the sides of the room consist of small dark-brown and polished bamboo; the body of the ceiling is made up of a brown rush, called hagi,—this representing the thatch. This ceiling was simply charming; it was clean, pure, and effective; it gave the room a lofty appearance, and was moreover thoroughly constructive. Our architects might well imitate it without the modification of a single feature.

The ceiling figured on page 156 (fig. 134) consisted of square panels of cedar, arranged on either side of a double curved bamboo, which ran across the ceiling diagonally from one corner of the room to another. Upon the bamboo was engraved a Chinese poem, in beautiful characters. The beauty of this ceiling consisted not only in its general quaint effect, but in the rich woods and good workmanship everywhere displayed in its construction. The same might be said of the ceiling shown in fig. 126 (see page 145); here, indeed, the whole room was like [pg 167] a choice cabinet. Lately, these panelled ceilings have come more into use. Fig. 143 represents a form of ceiling which may be occasionally seen, consisting of large, square planks of sugi, with a framework of bamboo or keyaki wood.

It seems a little curious that the space enclosed under the roof (a garret in fact) is rarely, if ever, utilized. Here the rats hold high carnival at night; and one finds it difficult to sleep, on account of the racket these pests keep up in racing and fighting upon the thin and resonant boards composing the ceiling. The rats make a thoroughfare of the beam which runs across the end of the house from one corner to the other; and this beam is called the nedzumi-bashira,—literally, “rat-post.”

In my remarks on house-construction I made mention of the plaster walls, and of the various colored sands used in the plaster. There are many ways of treating this surface, by which curious effects are obtained. Little gray and white pebbles are sometimes mixed with the plaster. The shells of a little fresh-water bivalve (Corbicula) are pounded into fragments and mixed with the plaster. In the province of Mikawa I saw an iron-gray plaster, in which had been mixed the short fibres of finely-chopped hemp, the fibres glistening in the plaster; the effect was odd and striking. In the province of Omi it was not unusual to see white plastered surfaces smoothly finished, in which iron-dust had been blown evenly upon the surface while the plaster was yet moist, and, oxidizing, had given a warm brownish-yellow tint to the whole.

In papering plaster-walls rice-paste is not used, as the larvae of certain insects are liable to injure the surface. In lieu of this a kind of seaweed similar to Iceland moss is used, the mucilaginous portion of which forms the cement. This material is used in sizing paper, and also in the pasteboard or stiff paper which is made by sticking a number of sheets together.

Plastered rooms are often papered; and even when the plaster is tinted and the plastered surface is left exposed, is customary to use a paper called koshi-bari, which is spread on the wall to a height of two feet or more in order to protect the clothes from the plaster. This treatment is seen in common rooms.

Simple and unpretending as the interior of a Japanese house appears to be, it is wonderful upon how many places in their apparently naked rooms the ingenuity and art-taste of the cabinet-maker can be expended. Naturally, the variety of design and finish of the tokonoma and chigai-dana is unlimited save by the size of their areas; for with the sills and upright posts, the shelves and little closets, sliding-doors with their surfaces for the artists' brush, and the variety of woods employed, the artisan has a wide field in which to display his peculiar skill. The ceiling, though showing less variety in its structure, nevertheless presents a good field for decorative work, though any exploits in this direction outside the conventional form become very costly, on account of the large surface to deal with and the expensive cabinet-work required. Next to the chigai-dana in decorative importance (excepting of course the ceiling, which, as we have already seen, rarely departs from the almost universal character of thin boards and transverse strips), I am inclined to believe that the ramma receives the most attention from the designer, and requires more delicate work from the cabinet-maker. It is true that the areas to cover are small, yet the designs which may be carved or latticed,—geometric designs in fret-work, or perforated designs in panel,—must have a strength and prominence not shown in the other interior finishings of the room.

The kamoi, or lintel, as we have seen, is a beam that runs entirely across the side of the room at the height of nearly [pg 169] six feet from the floor (fig. 103). On its under surface are the grooves in which the fusuma run; between this beam and the ceiling is a space of two feet or more depending, of course, upon the height of the room. The height of the beam itself from the floor, a nearly constant factor, is always lower than are our doorways, because the average height of the Japanese people is less than ours; and aggravatingly low to many foreigners is this beam, as can be attested by those who have cracked their heads against it in passing from one room to another. The space between the kamoi and the ceiling is called the ramma, and offers another field for the exercise of that decorative faculty which comes so naturally to the Japanese. This space may be occupied simply by a closed plastered partition, just as in our houses we invariably fill up a similar space which comes over wide folding doors between a suite of rooms. In the Japanese room, however, it is customary to divide this space into two or more panels,—usually two; and in this area the designer and wood-worker have ample room to carry out those charming surprises which are to be seen in Japanese interiors.

The designs are of course innumerable, and may consist of diaper-work and geometric designs; or each panel may consist of a single plank of wood with the design wrought out, while the remaining wood is cut away, leaving the dark shadows of the room beyond as a back-ground to the design; or the design may be in the form of a thin panel of cedar, in which patterns [pg 170] of birds, flowers, waves, dragons, or other objects are cut out in perforated work. Fret-work panels are very often used in the decoration of the ramma, of designs similar to the panels now imported from Japan; but the figures are worked out larger patterns.

Light and airy as the work seems to be, it must nevertheless be strongly made, as it is rare to see any displaced or broken portions in panels of this nature.

The design represented in fig. 144 is from a ramma in an old house in the village of Hakòne. The room was very large, and there were four panels in the ramma, which was nearly twenty-four feet long. A light trellis of bamboo is a favorite and common device for this area. Fig. 145 gives a simple The design represented in fig. 144 is from a ramma in an old house in the village of Hakòne. The room was very large, and there were four panels in the ramma, which was nearly twenty-four feet long. A light trellis of bamboo is a favorite and common device for this area. Fig. 145 gives a simple form of this nature, which may be often seen. In a house in Tokio we saw a similar design carried out in porcelain (fig. 146),—the central vertical rod having a dark-blue glaze, while the lighter horizontal rods were white in color. It should be understood that in every case the interspaces between the designs, except in the perforated ones, are freely open to the next room. By means of these open ramma much better ventilation of the rooms is secured when the fusuma [pg 171] is closed. A combination of perforated panels and a grating of bamboo is often seen (fig. 147).

The ramma requiring great skill in design and execution are those in which the wood-carver, having his design drawn upon a solid plank, cuts away all the wood about it, leaving the design free; and this is then delicately wrought.

In an old house at Gojio, Yamato, is a ramma having a single panel the length of the room. Fig. 148 illustrates this design, which consists of chrysanthemums supported on a bamboo trellis, and was carved out of a single plank, the flowers and delicate tracery of the leaves being wrought with equal care on both sides; in fact, the ramma in every case is designed to be seen from both rooms. I have often noticed that in quite old houses the ramma was of this description. In an old house at Yatsushiro, in Higo, I saw a very beautiful form of this nature (fig. 149). The ramma was divided into two panels, and the design was continuous from one panel to the other. It represented a rustic method of conducting water by means of wooden troughs, propped up by branched sticks, and sticks tied together. The representation of long leaves of some aquatic plant, with their edges ragged by partial decay, was remarkably well rendered. The plank out of which the design was wrought must have been less than an inch in thickness, and yet the effect of relief was surprising. A white substance like chalk filled the interstices of the carving, giving the appearance that at one time the whole design had been whitened and the coloring [pg 172] matter had subsequently worn away. The house was quite old, and the work had been done by a local artist.

It is a remarkable fact, and one well worth calling attention to, that in the smaller towns and villages, in regions far apart, there seem to be artistic workmen capable of designing and executing these graceful and artistic carvings,—for such they certainly are. Everywhere throughout the Empire we find good work of all kinds, and evidence that workmen of all crafts have learned their trades,—not “served” them,—and are employed at home. In other words, the people everywhere appreciate artistic designs and the proper execution of them; and, consequently, men capable in their various lines find their services in demand wherever they may be. I do not mean to imply by this general statement that good workmen in Japan are not drawn to the larger cities for employment, but rather that the smaller towns and villages everywhere are not destitute of such a class, and that the distribution of such artisans is far more wide and general than with us. And how different such conditions are with us may be seen in the fact that there are hundreds of towns and thousands of villages in our country where the carpenter is just capable of making a shelter from the weather; and if he attempts to beautify it—but we will not awaken the recollection of those startling horrors of petticoat scallops fringing the eaves and every opening, and rendered, if possible, more hideous by the painter.

Throughout the breadth and length of that land of thirty-six million people men capable of artistic work, and people capable of appreciating such work, abound. In our land of fifty-five millions one has to seek the great centres of population for similar work,—for elsewhere the good work and its appreciation are exceptional.

At Nagoya, in the house of a poor man, I saw a simple and ingenious form of ramma, in which two thin boards, one [pg 173] [pg 174] of light and the other of dark cedar, had been cut in the form of mountain contours. These were placed in juxtaposition, and from either side the appearance of two ranges of mountains was conveyed. Fig. 150 gives a faint idea of the appearance: of this simple ramma. There are many suggestions in the decoration and utilization for ventilating rooms through certain portions of the frieze, which might be adopted with advantage in the finish of our interiors.