In the midst of the conversation, one of the ladies, who had watched me rather curiously during the last scene, turned to me.
“Do you have love scenes on the Japanese stage?” she asked.
“Oh, yes,” I answered. “Our stage shows life as it is, and Japanese are just like other people.”
“But your face got crimson, little lady, and you looked as if you had never seen a lover before,” she said smilingly.
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.
“What do lovers do when they are—well—very enthusiastic?” asked a young lady.
“They gently turn their backs to each other,” I replied.
“Turn their backs to each other! My stars!” was the very peculiar exclamation of the young lady.
In a moment she turned to me again.
“Is it really true,” she asked, “that in Japan there is no kissing—even between husband and wife?”
“There is bowing, you know,” I replied. “That is our mode of heart expression.”
“But you don’t mean that your mother never kissed you!” exclaimed the young lady. “What did she do when you came to America?”
“Only bowed,” I replied, “and then she said very gently, ‘A safe journey for you, my daughter.’ ”
I had not been here long enough then to understand the odd expression that came over the faces of the ladies, nor the moment’s silence that followed before the conversation drifted into other channels.
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 heartthrob, and every other person present also recognized the depth of hidden emotion.
Japanese people are not demonstrative. Until late years the repression of strong emotion was carefully drilled into the mind and life of every Japanese child of the better class. There is much more freedom now than formerly, but the influence of past training is seen everywhere—in art, in literature, and in the customs of daily life. With all the cheerful friendliness of everyday intercourse there is a certain stiffness of etiquette which holds in check all exuberance of expression. It dictates the ceremonies of birth and the ceremonies of death, and guides everything between—working, playing, eating, sleeping, walking, running, laughing, crying. Every motion is chained—and by one’s own wish—with the shackles of politeness. A merry girl will laugh softly behind her sleeve. A hurt child chokes back his tears and sobs out, “I am not crying!” A stricken mother will smile as she tells you that her child is dying. A distressed servant will giggle as she confesses having broken your treasured piece of china. This is most mystifying to a foreigner, but it means only an effort to keep in the background. A display of one’s own feelings would be rudeness.
When American people judge the degree of affection between Japanese husband and wife by their conduct to each other, they make a great mistake. It would be as bad form for a man to express approval of his wife or children as it would be for him to praise any other part of himself; and every wife takes pride in conducting herself according to the rigid rules of etiquette, which recognize dignity and humility as the virtues that reflect greatest glory on the home of which she is mistress.
One other thing may explain some seeming peculiarities. 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.
I shall never forget my first experience in seeing kissing between man and woman. It was on my trip across the continent when I came from Japan. A seat near me was occupied by a young lady, very prettily dressed and with gentle, almost timid, manners. She was a young married woman returning from her first visit to her parents. I was much attracted by her free, yet modest, actions and planned how I would try to imitate her. One morning I noticed that she was dressed with unusual care, and it was evident that she was nearing the end of her journey. Finally the train began to slow down and she watched out of the window with eager interest. The train had barely come to a stand when in rushed a young man, who threw his arms around that modest, sweet girl and kissed her several times. And she did not mind it, but blushed and laughed, and they went off together. I cannot express my feelings, but I could not help recalling what my mother said to me just before I started for America: “I have heard, my daughter, that it is the custom for foreign people to lick each other as dogs do.”
There was no criticism in my mother’s heart—nothing but wonder. I repeat her words only as an illustration of how an unfamiliar custom may appear to the eyes of a stranger. 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
