2023-09-05 - A Daughter of the Samurai by Etsu Inagaki Sugimoto =============================================================== Book cover This title caught my eye in the Project Gutenberg "new books" feed. After reading the book, i was not disappointed. I was pleased and interested to "meet" this author! Her mother and grandmother sincerely believed that she was meant to be a priestess in a temple, so they arranged special education for her. Her father had other ideas and hired a Confucian tutor to give her a classical education. Though conservative, he was broad minded and open to uniting the beliefs of Buddhism and Christianity. The author's education was one normally given to boys, but she also received a girl's education. This seems to be a major theme in her life: bridging the perceived gap between spiritual paths, between historic gender roles, and between eastern and western cultures. Another theme that caught my attention was how her unique background prepared her almost providentially for her unique future. Her grandmother was an avid reader and told many stories during the winter weather. Her father bought her a set of ten books translated from English literature, which she enjoyed reading. After her father died and her brother became the head of the family, he arranged for her to get married in the US. She went to an English school in Tokyo to prepare for her move to the US. Some of the books she read in school were continuations of the stories that her father gave her when she was a child. This helped her read them with great enthusiasm and learn very rapidly. I was interested to read about the island of Hachijo where gender roles had been reversed during some part of the island's history, and the society got along very well with the women in charge. It reminded me of the matriarchal organization of Iron Town in Princess Mononoke. Hachijō-jima I was also interested to read about how the author blushed the first time she went to watch a play in the US. The actors were emotionally expressive and they kissed each other. She remarked that physical affection was not directly depicted in Japanese theater. Instead it was subtly implied. This is still a convention in Japanese anime, though not a hard rule. Introduction ============ How startled, I suppose, some of her knightly ancestors would be to find her putting her private thoughts on paper for all the world to see. Then indeed the shrines would be pasted up and there would be horrified silence. But it was that old, hard and feudal code that gave her strength to break through paper formalities when she felt it needful. She has given us here a unique picture of the exquisite complexity and beauty of all human life. She is a great teacher, and I would not willingly even tread on her shadow. Chapter 3: Days of Kan ====================== She helped me dress, then I gathered together the materials for my work, arranging the big sheets of paper in a pile on my desk and carefully wiping every article in my ink-box with a square of silk. Reverence for learning was so strong in Japan at that time that even the tools we used were considered almost sacred. Because I was having the training and studies of a boy was one of the reasons why my family got in the habit of calling me Etsu-bo, the termination bo being used for a boy's name, as ko is for a girl's. But my lessons were not confined to those for a boy. I also learned all the domestic accomplishments taught my sisters--sewing, weaving, embroidery, cooking, flower-arranging, and the complicated etiquette of ceremonial tea. Chapter 5: Falling Leaves ========================= Every devout Buddhist is absolutely submissive to Fate, for he is taught that hardship in his present life is either the atonement for sins committed in the last existence, or the education necessary to prepare him for a higher place in the life to come. This belief has held Japan's labouring class in cheerful resignation through ages of hardship, but also it has taught us to look with such indifference upon the sufferings of creatures below us in the order of creation that we have become, as a nation, almost sympathy-blind. Chapter 9: The Story of a Marionette ==================================== Standards of duty differ on opposite sides of the world, but Japanese people never flinch at its call. Many a boy and girl not yet in their teens, many a man and woman at the time of brightest promise, many of the aged have gone alone to a distant province, and among strangers have become of them--body, brain, and spirit. But even among beautiful surroundings, if duty lies behind, undone, nothing, while life lasts, can break the heart pull, the brain planning, the soul prayer to reach, even partially, the lost goal. Such is the deep-hidden soul of Japan. Chapter 10: The Day of the Bird =============================== One cold evening I went into Grandmother's room and snuggled down beside her cushion... I felt that, much as she loved me, the new conditions that my future faced were beyond her old-fashioned comprehension. But I learned that night, while I talked with her, that samurai training will prepare one for any future. "...Remember, Etsu-bo," and her voice was strangely tender, "where you live is a small matter. The life of a samurai, man or woman, is just the same: loyalty to the overlord; bravery in defence of his honour. In your distant, destined home, remember Grandmother's words: loyalty to your husband; bravery in defence of his honour. It will bring you peace." Chapter 14: Lessons =================== I had, however, read a number of translations of English books and--more valuable than all else--I possessed a supply of scattered knowledge obtained from a little set of books that my father had brought me from the capital when I was only a child. They were translations, compiled from various sources and published by one of the progressive book houses of Tokyo. I do not know whose idea it was to translate and publish those ten little paper volumes, but whoever it was holds my lasting gratitude. They brought the first shafts of light that opened to my eager mind the wonders of the Western world, and from them I was led to countless other friends and companions who, in the years since, have brought to me such a wealth of knowledge and happiness that I cannot think what life would have been without them. These books had been my inspiration during all my years of childhood, and when, in my study of English at school, my clumsy mind began to grasp the fact that, hidden beneath the puzzling words were continuations of stories I knew, and of ideas similar to those I had found in the old familiar books that I had loved so well, my delight was unbounded. Then I began to read eagerly. ... And I never wearied. ... Another thing about English books was that, as I read, I was constantly discovering shadowy replies to the unanswered questions of my childhood. Oh, English books were a source of deepest joy! Excepting English, of all my studies history was the favourite; and I liked and understood best the historical books of the Old Testament. The figurative language was something like Japanese; the old heroes had the same virtues and the same weaknesses of our ancient samurai; the patriarchal form of government was like ours, and the family system based upon it pictured so plainly our own homes that the meaning of many questioned passages was far less puzzling to me than were the explanations of the foreign teachers. One section of this wild ground the teachers divided into small gardens, giving one to each of the girls and providing any kind of flower seeds we wanted. This was a new delight. I already loved the free growth of the trees, and the grass on which I could walk even in my shoes; but this "plant-what-you-please" garden gave me a wholly new feeling of personal right. I, with no violation of tradition, no stain on the family name, no shock to parent, teacher, or townspeople, no harm to anything in the world, was free to act. So instead of having a low bamboo fence around my garden, as most of the girls had, I went to the kitchen and coaxed the cook to give me some dried branches used for kindling. Then I made a rustic hedge, and, in my garden, instead of flowers, I planted--potatoes. No one knows the sense of reckless freedom which this absurd act gave me--nor the consequences to which it led. It had unloosed my soul, and I stood listening, while from a strange tangle of unconventional smiles and informal acts, of outspoken words and unhidden thoughts, of growing trees and untouched grass, the spirit of freedom came knocking at my door. Chapter 15: How I Became A Christian ==================================== The influence of my school life in Tokyo had been subtle. Unconsciously I had expanded, until gradually I became convinced that asking questions was only a part of normal development. Then, for the first time in my life, I attempted to put into words some of the secret thoughts of my heart. This was gently encouraged by my tactful teachers; and, as time passed on, I realized more and more that they were wonderfully wise for women, and my confidence in them grew. Not only this, but their effortless influence to inspire happiness changed my entire outlook on life. My childhood had been happy, but it had never known one throb of what may be called joyousness. But my life at school blew into my heart a breath of healthful cheerfulness. As the restraint which had held me like a vise began to relax, so also there melted within me the tendency to melancholy. Although I now know that my first impressions of American womanhood were exaggerated, I have never regretted this idealization; for through it I came to realize the tragic truth that the Japanese woman--like the plum blossom, modest, gentle, and bearing unjust hardship without complaint--is often little else than a useless sacrifice; while the American woman--self-respecting, untrammelled, changing with quick adaptability to new conditions--carries inspiration to every heart, because her life, like the blossom of the cherry, blooms in freedom and naturalness. This realization was of slow growth, and it brought with it much silent questioning. From childhood I had known, as did all Japanese people, that woman is greatly inferior to man. And yet the great god of Shinto was a woman--the Sun goddess! "Continue to believe so, little Daughter," he said gently. "And yet do not forget the stern teachings of your childhood. They form the current of a crystal stream that, as it flows through the ages, keeps Japanese women worthy--like your grandmother." It was not until long, long afterward, when the knowledge of later years had broadened my mind, that I comprehended his hidden meaning that a woman may quietly harbour independent thought if she does not allow it to destroy her gentle womanhood. As I learned to value womanhood, I realized more and more that my love of freedom and my belief in my right to grow toward it meant more than freedom to act, to talk, to think. Freedom also claimed a spiritual right to grow. When I was sent to the mission school the fact that the teachers were of another religion was not considered at all. They were thought of only as teachers of the language and manners of America; so when I wrote to Mother, asking her consent to my becoming a Christian, I know she was greatly surprised. But she was a wise woman. She replied, "My daughter, this is an important thing. I think it will be best for you to wait until vacation. Then we will talk of it." My mother, who had learned from Father to be tolerant of the opinions of others, had no prejudice against the new religion; but she believed that the great duty in life for sons and daughters consisted in a rigid observance of the ritual for ancestor-worship and the ceremonies in memory of the dead. When I first reached home her heart was heavy with dread, but when she learned that my new faith did not require disrespect to ancestors, her relief and gratitude were pathetic, and she readily gave her consent. I think I am a true Christian. At least my belief has given me untold comfort and a perfect heart-satisfaction, but it has never separated me from my Buddhist friends. They have respect for this strange belief of mine; for they feel that, although I am loyal to the Christian God, I still keep the utmost reverence for my fathers and respect for the faith that was the highest and holiest thing they knew. Chapter 18: Strange Customs =========================== One thing in America, to which I could not grow accustomed, was the joking attitude in regard to women and money. Our suburb was small and we were all interested in each other's affairs, so I was acquainted with almost everybody. I knew the ladies to be women of education and culture, yet there seemed to be among them a universal and openly confessed lack of responsibility about money. They all dressed well and seemed to have money for specific purposes, but no open purse to use with free and responsible judgment. It seemed incredible, here in America, where women are free and commanding, that a woman of dignity and culture, the mistress of a home, the mother of children, should be forced either to ask her husband for money, or be placed in a humiliating position. The standards of my own and my adopted country differed so widely in some ways, and my love for both lands was so sincere, that sometimes I had an odd feeling of standing upon a cloud in space, and gazing with measuring eyes upon two separate worlds. Also I acquired the habit, whenever I saw absurd things here which evidently arose from little knowledge of Japan, of trying to recall a similar absurdity in Japan regarding foreign things. And I never failed to find more than one to offset each single instance here. Chapter 19: Thinking ==================== I explained as well as I could that for generations we have been taught that strong emotional expression is not consistent with elegance and dignity. That does not mean that we try to repress our feelings; only that public expression of them is bad form. Therefore on our stage the love scenes are generally so demure and quiet that an American audience would not be thrilled at all. But the dignified bearing of our actors has a strong effect on Japanese people, for they understand the feeling that is not shown. Bowing is not only bending the body; it has a spiritual side also. One does not bow exactly the same to father, younger sister, friend, servant, and child. My mother's long, dignified bow and gentle-voiced farewell held no lack of deep love. I felt keenly each heart-throb, and every other person present also recognized the depth of hidden emotion. The Japanese language has no pronouns, their place being taken by adjectives. A humble or derogatory adjective means "my" and a complimentary one means "your." A husband will introduce his wife with some such words as these: "Pray bestow honourable glance upon foolish wife." By this he simply means, "I want you to meet my wife." A father will speak of his children as "ignorant son" or "untrained daughter" when his heart is overflowing with pride and tenderness. Years of residence in this country have taught me that the American mode of heart expression has its spiritual side, just as bowing has. I now understand that a kiss expresses kindness or gratitude, friendship or love; each of which is a sacred whisper from heart to heart. Chapter 20: Neighbours ====================== When I came to America I expected to learn many things, but I had no thought that I was going to learn anything about Japan. Yet our neighbours, by their questions and remarks, were teaching me every day new ways of looking at my own country. We Japanese have a way of considering a thing invisible until it is settled in its proper place. Many of our customs I had taken for granted, accepting the ways of our ancestors without any thought except that thus they had been and still were. When I began to question myself about things which had always seemed simple and right because they were in accordance with laws made by our wise rulers, sometimes I was puzzled and sometimes I was frightened. "I am afraid that I am growing very bold and man-like," I would think to myself, "but God gave me a brain to use, else why do I have it?" "That is easy," I said, laughing in my turn. "A genuine woman's-rights woman is not one who wants her rights, but one who has them. And if that means the right to do men's work, I can easily give you a specimen. We have a whole island of women who do men's work from planting rice to making laws." "What do the men do?" "Cook, keep house, take care of the children, and do the family washing." "You don't mean it!" exclaimed Miss Helen, and she sat down again. But I did mean it, and I told her of Hachijo, a little island about a hundred miles off the coast of Japan, where the women, tall, handsome, and straight, with their splendid hair coiled in an odd knot on top of the head, and wearing long, loose gowns bound by a narrow sash tied in front, work in the ricefields, make oil from camellia seeds, spin and weave a peculiar yellow silk which they carry in bundles on their heads over the mountains, at the same time driving tiny oxen, not much larger than dogs, also laden with rolls of silk to be sent to the mainland to be sold. And in addition to all this they make some of the best laws we have and see that they are properly carried out. In the meantime, the older men of the community, with babies strapped to their backs, go on errands or stand on the street gossiping and swaying to a sing-song lullaby; and the younger ones wash sweet potatoes, cut vegetables, and cook dinner; or, in big aprons and with sleeves looped back, splash, rub, and wring out clothes at the edge of a stream. The beginning of this unusual state of things dates back several centuries, to a time when the husbands and sons were forced to go to another island about forty miles away, for fishing, very little of which could be done near Hachijo. When silk proved more profitable than fish, the men returned to the island, but the Government was in capable hands which have never given up their hold. Chatper 22: Flower In A Strange Land ==================================== Buddhism, on its ages-long journey from India to Japan, seems to have dropped many of its original elements of terror; or else they were softened and lost in the goodly company of our jolly and helpful Shinto gods. Not one of these do we dread, for, in Shintoism, even Death is only a floating cloud through which we pass on our journey in the sunshine of Nature's eternal life. Chapter 27: Honourable Grandmother ================================== "Do Honourable Grandmother's God and our God know each other up in heaven?" asked Chiyo. I was leaning in the alcove to brush a bit of dust off the carving, and Hanano replied. "Of course they do, Chiyo," she said. "Jesus had just as hard a time as the August Buddha did to teach people that God wants them to be good and kind and splendid. Mamma always says that Honourable Grandmother and our dear American Grandma are good, just alike." Chiyo had loved Mother from the beginning. The child's affectionate advances were somewhat of a shock at first, but very soon the two were congenial companions. It was odd that religion should be one of the binding cords. The kindergarten was just beyond the temple, so Chiyo was familiar with the road, and as I did not like to have Mother go alone, Chiyo often went with her when Sudzu was busy. The child liked to sit in the great solemn place and listen to the chanting, and she liked to be given rice-cakes by the mild-faced priestess who served tea to Mother after the service. One day Mother said: "Chiyo, you are very kind to come with me to the temple. Next time I will go with you to your church." So Chiyo took her to hear our minister, a good man who preached in Japanese. After that they often went together, sometimes to the temple, where Chiyo stood with bowed head while her grandmother softly rubbed her rosary between her hands and murmured, "Namu Amida Butsu!" and sometimes to the Christian church, where Mother listened attentively to the sermon and bowed in reverence when the Minister prayed. Then hand in hand they would come home together, talking of what they had heard at one place or the other. "The holy shrine, little Chiyo, is only a box when it is empty," she said, "and my body is only a borrowed shrine in which I live. But it is proper courtesy to leave a borrowed article in the best condition." Chiyo's eyes looked very deep and solemn for a moment. "That's why we have to take a bath every day and always keep our teeth clean. Dear me! I never thought of that as being polite to God." Chapter 29: A Lady of Old Japan =============================== My minister was sorely troubled that I should have observed these last Buddhist rites--unnecessary after my mother had passed beyond the knowledge or the hurt of their neglect. I told him that, had I died even one day after I became a Christian, my mother would have been faithful, to the minutest detail, in giving me the Christian burial that she believed would satisfy my heart; and that I was my mother's daughter. Influence? Yes. The influence of loyalty, sympathy, understanding; all of which are characteristics of Our Father--hers and mine. author: Sugimoto, Etsuko, 1874-1950 detail: LOC: DS825 .S8 source: tags: biography,ebook,history,non-fiction title: A Daughter of the Samurai Tags ==== biography ebook history non-fiction