Cultivating Femininity

Cultivating Femininity
Women and Tea Culture in
Edo and Meiji Japan

Rebecca Corbett

University of Hawai‘i Press

Honolulu
© 2018 University of Hawai‘i Press
All rights reserved

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Corbett, Rebecca, author.

Title: Cultivating femininity: women and tea culture in Edo and Meiji Japan / Rebecca Corbett.

Description: Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, [2018] | Includes bibliographical references and
index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2017025008 | ISBN 9780824872076 (cloth alk. paper) Amazon Kindle
9780824873509 EPUB 9780824873493 PDF 9780824873486

Subjects: LCSH: Japanese tea ceremony—History—18th century. | Japanese tea

ceremony—History—19th century. | Women—Japan—Social conditions. |
Women—Japan—Economic conditions.

Classification: LCC GT2910 .C67 2018 | DDC 394.1/50952—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017025008

An electronic version of this book is freely available, thanks to the support of libraries
working with Knowledge Unlatched. KU is a collaborative initiative designed to make
high-quality books open access for the public good. The open-access ISBNs for this book are
9780824878405 (PDF) and 9780824878399 (EPUB). More information about the initiative and links
to the open-access version can be found at www.knowledgeunlatched.org.

The open access version of this book is licensed under Creative Commons
Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International (CC
BY-NC-ND 4.0), which means that the work may be freely downloaded
and shared for non-commercial purposes, provided credit is given to the author. Derivative works
and commercial uses require permission from the publisher. For details, see
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.

Cover art: Making tea. In Poetry Recitation for Women’s Learning. 1753. Ōzorasha Publishing.
 Contents

Acknowledgments / vii

Introduction / 1
Chapter 1: Women and Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan  /  25
Chapter 2: A Handbook for Elite Women’s Tea in
the Eighteenth Century  /  56
Chapter 3: A Handbook for Women’s Tea in
the Nineteenth Century  /  74
Chapter 4: Guides for Cultivating Femininity  /  98
Chapter 5: Guides for Modern Life  /  122
Epilogue / 141

Notes / 145
Bibliography / 169
Index / 185

Color plates follow page 100

v
 Acknowledgments

My study of Japanese tea culture first began when I

was a Rotary International exchange student in Kuroishi City, Aomori
Prefecture, in 1999. My host parents, Yamaguchi Gihaku and Hisako at
Hōfukuji Temple, sent me off to attend a class with my host sister, Ami,
at her aunt’s house. Ichinohe sensei and her students welcomed me into
their class, and to everyone’s surprise I turned up week after week for
twelve months, even after Ami had finished her lessons. Ichinohe sensei
was a patient teacher, instructing me in the basics of temae (the proce-
dures for making tea in chanoyu tea culture). Despite initial language
barriers and my inability to sit seiza (sitting with the knees and tops of
the feet flat on the floor, legs tucked underneath you) for very long, we
somehow muddled through. My host father encouraged my interest in
Japanese culture beyond the tearoom, helping me with calligraphy and
answering my questions about Japanese history and Buddhism. When I
returned home to Sydney, Australia, these interests compelled me to ma-
jor in Japanese studies and history at the University of Sydney and to
continue my tea lessons with Suzuki sensei, the representative of the
Urasenke tea school in Sydney. Over the years as I moved between cities
and countries for work and research, I have made many tea friends and
studied with several teachers. They have all helped me learn about the
practice of chanoyu (tea culture), and I thank them for that, as well as
for many delicious bowls of tea. I would like to thank in particular Co-
lette Morin, Tamako Matsuo, and Nancy Hamilton, who have been
friends and teachers in the tearoom and have also shown an interest in
my research and assisted me with it in various ways.
One thing that immediately struck me when I began practicing tea
was the feminine image of tea culture, and the dominance of women as
practitioners and teachers. Yet, as I began to read more and more histories
of tea culture, I wondered where all the women were. My interest in wom-
en’s history and feminist theory as a university student, combined with

vii
viiiAcknowledgments

these questions about tea history, presented me with a natural topic for
PhD research. Elise Tipton, at the University of Sydney, helped me explore
these topics through an honours year and then a PhD thesis. She mentored
me from a keen undergraduate student in her Tokugawa history class
through many more years of study. Her continual encouragement that I
think about the implications of my research into pre-Meiji women’s tea
practice helped me formulate the central arguments of this book, which
has also benefited from her thorough reading of the full manuscript.
My PhD research was funded by an Australian Postdoctoral Award
and by one year as a Japan Foundation research fellow, which I spent at
the International Research Center for Japanese Studies (Nichibunken). I
first encountered many of the primary sources that I used in this study
during that year. At the University of Sydney, Olivier Ansart and
­Matthew Stavros provided advice and encouragement, always cheer-
fully answering my many questions. My fellow students Amelia Carlin
and Rhiannon Paget became great friends who then and now have of-
fered support whenever needed. At Nichibunken, Patricia Fister pointed
me in the direction of several invaluable sources. Andrew Gerstle sug-
gested I look at the edification guides for women that form the basis of
the discussion in chapter 4. Tanimura Reiko helped me with my inqui-
ries into the tea practice of women in the Ii household and helped me
obtain copies of important sources. Tani Akira at Nomura Bijutsukan
was also generous with his assistance in accessing sources. The staff at
the Nichibunken Library were particularly helpful with obtaining copies
of key sources, including the manuscript I discuss in chapter 2. I first met
Morgan Pitelka at Nichibunken, when he came for a short conference.
His work on Japanese tea culture set a new standard for those of us
working in English, and he has been a generous mentor to me. To con-
tact Stephanie Chun at the University of Hawai‘i Press was one of the
excellent pieces of advice he has given me over the years. Stephanie has
been a pleasure to work with on this project, as has the whole team at
UHP and my copy editor, Rosemary Wetherold.
This book was largely written while I was a postdoctoral fellow at
the Center for East Asian Studies (CEAS), Stanford University. I cannot
thank CEAS staff members John Groschwitz, Kristin Kutella Boyd, and
Marna Romanoff enough for creating such a welcoming and comfort-
able environment in which to work for nearly two and a half years. To
the center’s director, Gordon Chang, and the East Asian Languages and
Cultures (EALC) faculty who chose to award me the fellowship, I
­extend my sincerest thanks. This book would not have been possible
Acknowledgmentsix

without it. CEAS gave me a forum to present my ideas on several occa-

sions, and I am particularly indebted to Kären Wigen for sharing her
thoughtful insights.
My faculty mentor at Stanford, Steven Carter, was generous with
his time and knowledge. Friday afternoons spent reading and discussing
premodern Japanese poetry and prose in his office were among the high-
lights of my time at Stanford, and indeed my life in academia thus far.
His assistance with reading the manuscript discussed in chapter 2 greatly
enhanced my understanding of this source, and our discussions on a
wide range of topics helped me think about my research in new ways.
I was also fortunate to meet Christina Laffin on the first Friday
afternoon in Professor Carter’s office and was excited to learn that she
would be a visiting scholar at Stanford that year. I thank her for her
mentorship and friendship. She has been tireless in her encouragement
of this book, including reading and commenting on early drafts of sev-
eral chapters and providing me with advice on the publishing process.
Her invitation to speak at the University of British Columbia in 2015
helped me think about how to present my arguments in the book.
My time at Stanford was happy and productive, and for that I
would like to thank my fellow CEAS postdocs Kevin Carrico, LeRon
Harrison, and Cyrus Chen. Sharing an office with Cyrus, and many pots
of tea over which we had long conversations, was a delight. Many
friends among the broader postdoc community, as well as the CEAS and
EALC student body, offered welcome distraction from my work, and
the challenge of explaining my research to people from fields as different
from my own as plant biology. Cheryl and Daniel Lilienstein provided
me with a wonderful place to live and an extended family in California.
My own family cannot be thanked enough. My father, Ken, first
piqued my interest in Japan when he was traveling there frequently for
business while I was a child and a teenager. My mother, Wendy, filled
our house with books when I was young, and let me follow my passion
for studying history as a determined sixteen-year-old who declared that
I did not need to study mathematics or science anymore. She allowed my
brother, Lee, and me to follow our own interests and always supported
me when I continually moved back and forth between Australia, Japan,
and California, more often than not ending up living in her house.
Over the years many people I have worked with or asked for a­ dvice
have helped me write this book, in ways small and large. My colleagues
in the History Department at the University of California, Santa Cruz,
read chapters from a very early draft manuscript. Anne Walthall and
xAcknowledgments

Mary Elizabeth Berry both read very early drafts of the manuscript and
made detailed comments and suggestions. I hope I have done some jus-
tice to the advice such eminent scholars have given me along the way.
My friend Byron Smith read portions of the manuscript and offered edi-
torial advice; he also persistently reminded me to keep working on it in
the way only a dear friend can.
More recently, my colleagues at the University of Southern Cali-
fornia have helped me at the tail end of the writing process. Satoko
Shimazaki shared her extensive knowledge of kabuki with me and of-
fered advice on a portion of chapter 1. Joan Piggott encouraged me to
see the process through to the end and offered the support of the Proj-
ect for Premodern Japan Studies through manuscript preparation funds.
Manuscript preparation funds were also provided by a Faculty ­Research
Support Award from the University of Southern California Libraries.
Finally, I would like to thank the two anonymous readers for the
University of Hawai‘i Press. Their detailed critiques improved the
­
­manuscript measurably.
Cultivating Femininity
 Introduction

T
ea culture in Japan encompasses many things, from the
quotidian act of drinking a cup of leaf green tea with a
meal to the precise ritual of preparing a bowl of pow-
dered green tea in a prescribed manner, using specific utensils. This
latter type of tea culture, chanoyu, has served a variety of purposes and
held a range of meanings for its practitioners over the last five hundred
years. For upstart warlords attempting to unify a war-torn realm in the
sixteenth century, it was a way to enter elite culture and cement politi-
cal ties. For upwardly mobile male commoners reaping the rewards of
early modern Japan’s economic growth in the seventeenth through
nineteenth centuries, it was a vehicle for learning the manners, tastes,
and behaviors of the elite and a way of creating social networks. To
the political rulers of the Edo period—elite daimyo who had connec-
tions to the ruling Tokugawa shogunate—tea culture was understood
as a means of training in etiquette and comportment as well as an ar-
ticulation of statecraft. For the heads of the commoner tea schools—
men who traced their descent through the Sen family lines back to the
most celebrated of the early tea masters, Sen no Rikyū (1522–1591)—
tea culture was a way to earn an income, and a family business. In the
early twentieth century, Japanese intellectuals such as Okakura Kakuzō
(1862–1913) found in tea culture an expression of a unique Japanese
identity and aesthetic sensibility. Wealthy businessmen in Japan’s
emerging industrial economy used tea culture as a way to flaunt their
wealth and express their national identity, as connoisseurs and collec-
tors of art (in the form of tea utensils), and for creating political net-
works in a manner strikingly similar to the uses of tea culture by medi-
eval warlords. For women in post–World War II Japan, tea culture has
been a form of bridal training and potentially even a means of gender
empowerment in the symbolic-­cultural sphere. Indeed, it has been ar-
gued that postwar women’s tea practice mirrors the tea practice of

1
2Introduction

male commoners in preceding ­centuries.1 In the contemporary period,

men continue to engage in tea practice for many of the same reasons as
they have done for centuries: for cultivating business and political ties,
as a family business, and as a means of displaying wealth and status.
Tea culture then is not just one thing. At times it can be an arena where
social markers such as status or class have no place, but it can also be
a way of reinforcing such distinctions. The tearoom can be a world
apart from politics and war, yet it can also be a stage on which politics
is enacted. Since the sixteenth century when the procedures for making
and drinking tea in the manner of chanoyu were developed, tea culture
has been based around specific procedures for making and drinking
powdered green tea. To whatever end it is put, for whatever reason it is
practiced, this is the essence of chanoyu.
In the context of this book, tea culture specifically refers to a
­codified practice known by two terms in Japanese: chanoyu (hot water
for tea) and sadō/chadō (the Way of Tea).2 During the Edo period
(1603–1868; also known as the Tokugawa period, or early modern
Japan) chanoyu was the most commonly used term to refer to the prac-
tice of making powdered green tea according to established procedures
known as temae. Sadō/chadō is a later term coined to evoke connota-
tions of a spiritual path connected to tea practice. In English, “tea cer-
emony” has been the most widely used translation of chanoyu. Scholars
have recently begun to move away from using this term, preferring in-
stead to speak of “tea culture” to capture the breadth of chanoyu as a
culture and practice that includes not only preparing and drinking tea
but also art connoisseurship, food preparation, and architecture—a
span not encompassed by the term “tea ceremony.”3 While chanoyu
and sadō/chadō are the formal terms used to describe tea culture, in
everyday life when most practitioners speak of or write about the prac-
tice, they simply refer to it as “tea” (ocha)—this is the case today and
was also true in early modern Japan. Tea is a beverage, but it is also the
practice itself; hence, tea is something one does. The beverage in this
case is a bowl of powdered green tea (matcha) that has been mixed
with hot water and either whisked to a thin consistency (usucha) or
kneaded to a viscous consistency (koicha).

Standard Narratives
Women are notably absent in the standard narratives of tea cul-
ture history until the Meiji period (1868–1912), but this book exam-
Introduction3

ines women’s participation in tea culture historically. Adding women

to the picture opens up new ways of understanding the history of tea
culture, the role women played in early modern cultural practices,
connections between status and cultural practices in the Edo period,
and contemporary women’s tea practice. These arguments will be ex-
panded below, but in order to place them into context, we must first
consider the current thinking about women’s place in chanoyu, his-
torically and today. In particular, we should understand how persis-
tent and pervasive the arguments are against the notion that women
practiced tea prior to the Meiji period, for this informs both how
contemporary women’s practice is viewed, as well as the pre-Meiji
history of tea culture.
Although women make up the majority of practitioners and
teachers in contemporary Japan—something on the order of 90 per-
cent by most estimates—they do not hold positions of power or au-
thority in the largest tea schools, which now control much of the
practice and discourse of tea culture. The position of head of a tea
school such as Urasenke or Omotesenke is hereditary and passed
down in a patrilineal system. This has been the case since the seven-
teenth century, when different branches of the Sen family line di-
verged and other tea masters also established their own schools and
lineages. Immediately underneath the male heads are senior teachers
who are also male. Women are marginalized in the institutions of tea
culture financially and politically, being unable to ascend to the most
senior positions. They are also marginalized in literature on tea
­culture, both popular and academic. Most scholars of tea culture in
Japan do not perceive women’s practice as a topic worthy of their
­attention. This is particularly the case when it comes to the history
of Japanese tea culture, a problem fueled by the common misconcep-
tion that women did not participate in tea culture until the late
nineteenth­ century.
Indeed, the narrative of tea culture history as told by the tea
schools, their students, and scholars is one of male activity. From the
wealthy merchants who formalized the practice in the late sixteenth
century to the warrior tea masters who continued to develop the prac-
tice and philosophy, and the military and political leaders they served,
the people who feature in the standard narrative of Japanese tea his-
tory are all men. Only when we get to the Meiji period do women start
to appear in the story. Yet today the majority of tea practitioners are
women. How do we account for this shift?
4Introduction

In her study of contemporary women tea practitioners in Akita,

Kaeko Chiba summarizes how the history of the largest modern tea
school, Urasenke, is taught:

Historically, Urasenke chadō was established in the sixteenth century

and was only for men; only after the Sino-Japanese war (1894–95)
did women begin to participate. During the Taishō period (1912–25),
Urasenke chadō spread to girls’ high schools. . . . Then, in the 1960s,
the increasing availability of electrical household appliances also
made it possible for housewives . . . to have more free time, and some
of them started to practise. Nowadays, the majority of Urasenke
chadō practitioners are women.4

Indeed, the idea that tea culture, at least within the Urasenke
school, was not opened to women until the late nineteenth century,
following the Meiji Restoration, is found in almost all popular publi-
cations on Japanese tea culture as well as many academic discussions.5
In discussing the current literature on tea culture and history we must
bear in mind that there are both an academic discourse and a popular
one, the latter being aimed at the large population of tea practitioners
in Japan and abroad who purchase many books, magazines, and jour-
nals as part of their practice. Indeed, teachers often encourage stu-
dents to do so by facilitating their journal subscriptions and book
purchases from tea-school-affiliated publishing houses such as
Tankōsha, aligned with the Urasenke school. In the Japanese litera-
ture, many academic historians, including Kumakura Isao, Tani Akira,
and Tanihata Akio, also write for this popular audience. The former
head of the Urasenke school, Sen Sōshitsu XV (b. 1923), has himself
authored numerous popular and semi-academic works on tea culture
and history, in Japanese and English. In English, historian Paul Varley
has likewise written for both an academic and a popular audience,
working with Sen Sōshitsu XV in some cases. For his part, Varley says
of the recovery of tea culture after its decline immediately following
the Meiji Restoration:

The most important step taken in this recovery, which was led by
Urasenke, was the adding of chanoyu to the instructional curricula of
public schools, especially women’s schools. Before, chanoyu had been
almost entirely a male pursuit. Viewed from this time as an essential
Introduction5

means for training young ladies in proper etiquette, bearing, and aes-
thetic taste, it became mainly an activity of women.6

When pre-Meiji women’s tea practice is discussed in either the

English or Japanese literature on tea culture, it is acknowledged to a
limited extent. Overall, however, it is dismissed as a topic not worthy
of consideration due to a perceived lack of evidence or lack of partici-
pation by women in the formal structures of tea, such as being en-
rolled as a student in a tea school or performing “in public.”
In this approach to tea history, any evidence for Edo-period
women’s tea practice is treated in isolation, thus preventing the emer-
gence of a big picture. We find what pioneering feminist historian
Gerda Lerner identified as “compensatory” and “contributory” schol-
arship.7 In this model, authors “acknowledge women’s presence but in
ways that leave the master narrative uncontaminated by substantive
female presence.”8 This model of women’s history was dominant in
second-wave feminist work, where the attempt was merely to insert
(or reinsert) women into histories from which they had been excluded.
In the case of tea history, Edo-period women who practiced tea are
held up as “exceptional” and as having been able to practice tea due to
their high status—as wives of emperors, for example.9 Such scholar-
ship clearly fits the “compensatory” and “contributory” framework by
adding some women to the narrative of tea history but not in a way
that challenges or changes it; the narrative remains focused on men
and male-dominated institutions. But as feminist historians have long
argued, it is not enough just to have a standard narrative and then say
there were also (some) women.
Here, in contrast, we will consider how the female presence al-
ters our understanding of tea history in early modern Japan. In order
to do so, we must first ask why women’s tea practice prior to the
Meiji period has been ignored or dismissed. We know that women
were participants in tea culture during the Edo period—they may
have studied formally with a teacher and been enrolled in a school,
attended tea gatherings within their family, or read about tea culture
in commercial edification guides. Female tea practitioners were also
represented in popular art, literary works, and plays; that is, they
were part of the popular culture. In the twentieth century, though,
the idea that women did not practice tea at all prior to the Meiji pe-
riod is repeated so often that for tea students it has become an un-
questioned truth. Anthropologist Etsuko Kato records that when she
6Introduction

asked a contemporary female tea practitioner aged in her fifties if she

thought women practiced tea in the Edo period, the practitioner re-
plied, “Women started it after the Meiji Restoration. Before that only
landlord warriors did it.”10 Scholars working in other fields of Japa-
nese cultural history or women’s history may find it entirely unsur-
prising, even obvious, that women participated in tea culture during
the Edo period, knowing that women were involved in other cultural
practices and the connections between tea culture and such arts. This
study is intended to bridge the gap between work in other fields of
Japanese cultural and women’s history, on the one hand, and studies
on Japanese tea culture, which have largely ignored women, on the
other. The way that women have been written out of tea history can
also tell us something about how such a gap can be created and per-
petuated, and it reminds us about the larger ideas and goals of
­women’s history.
Some recent English-language scholarship has questioned many
of the long-held assumptions built into the narrative of tea culture
history and sought to bring academic rigor and theoretical insights to
a reading of its place in contemporary Japan. Standing out as excel-
lent examples of such work are Morgan Pitelka’s monograph Hand-
made Culture: Raku Potters, Patrons, and Tea Practitioners in Japan; the
essays in Japanese Tea Culture: Art, History, and Practice, edited by
Pitelka; and Kristin Surak’s Making Tea, Making Japan: Cultural Na-
tionalism in Practice. This study follows in their footsteps and also
follows the path of feminist historians focusing on areas far afield
from early modern Japanese history but who nonetheless share simi-
lar methodological and historiographical concerns, from the pioneer-
ing analyses by Gerda Lerner and Joan Scott to the more recent
research by Judith Bennett.11 These concerns include revising male-
centered narratives by using nontraditional sources and reading
against the grain of traditional sources. In the field of early modern
Japanese women’s history, scholars such as Patricia Fister, Peter
­Kornicki, Bettina Gramlich-Oka, and Laura Nenzi have shown that
in spheres, such as art, literature, literacy, and travel, women’s pres-
ence, contributions, and abilities were far greater than previously
thought.12 This book aims to bring the approach of feminist history
to a field that is still very much dominated by a top-down and male-
centered approach to history writing.
Introduction7

Writing Women Out of History

One way in which Edo-period women’s tea practice has been dis-
missed is that a distinction has been drawn between official (or formal)
participation and unofficial (informal) participation. Scholars dismiss
any notion of there having been something we can speak of as “wom-
en’s tea practice” in the Edo period, because of the limited evidence we
have for women being enrolled in tea schools, which would constitute
formal participation. It is highly likely that records of student enroll-
ments are not representative of tea practitioner numbers in the Edo
period; there may well have been many more students studying tea
than were registered, because of the potential costs of registration, for
example, or because they studied in an informal environment. Infor-
mal study, in the home or among a group of friends and family, may
have been common for women, but because it went undocumented, we
cannot be sure. Even if we discount such informal participation, re-
cords of tea school enrollments are not comprehensive enough to give
a clear picture of formal participation. Only two tea schools have
made their register of enrolled students prior to the twentieth century
publicly available to researchers, the Horinouchi and Yabunouchi
schools. In both cases the registers begin in the nineteenth century, so
they do not give us any indication of the student makeup for much of
the Edo period. Even in these two registers, however, women are listed
as enrolled students.13 Disregarding early modern women’s tea prac-
tice on the basis of a lack of formal participation is therefore problem-
atic on two counts.
In addition to the issue of enrollment in a tea school, the minimal
presence of women in records of Edo-period tea gatherings has been
used to argue that women’s participation in tea culture at the time was
largely insignificant.14 Tea gatherings in the Edo period were generally
small, intimate affairs, with a host and up to five guests, and records
show that women did participate in such gatherings. Women are not
the focus of these records, and often researchers know nothing about
them except their name, if that, or who their husband or father was.
The fact that women are present in the record at all can be easily over-
looked. Such records may be scarce, but this is because women gener-
ally participated in tea gatherings within a family or household
environment—this is a discernible pattern from the records we do
have. Unless a prominent guest was present, then a family-based gath-
ering was not likely to be recorded. In addition, only women from
wealthy and elite households are recorded as having attended gather-
8Introduction

ings. Although they were certainly more able to invest the time and fi-
nances necessary for the study of tea than commoner women could, it
is also the case that tea gatherings at which they were present were far
more likely to be recorded precisely because it tended to be elite male
practitioners who kept regular records of the tea gatherings they at-
tended. Records kept by such men are also more likely to have sur-
vived and been located by modern scholars. There is thus every
possibility that women participated in many more tea gatherings than
extant records indicate, and did so since the practice of chanoyu was
formalized in the sixteenth century. Indeed, it is widely acknowledged
that the second wife of Sen no Rikyū, Sōōn, was conversant with the
practice. The author of the text discussed in chapter 3, A Woman’s
Handbook (Toji no tamoto, 1721), states as much in the introduction as
justification for writing a text about women’s tea practice. The lack of
a large body of evidence in itself cannot be taken as meaning that
women were not practicing tea in early modern Japan. They may not
have been doing so in the same ways as men, and certainly not in as
large numbers, but they were participating in tea culture when they
learned the ritualized temae procedures or sat as a guest at a tea gath-
ering. Taken together these glimpses of women, gleaned from bits of
information, however scant, can tell us something about when and
where women most often practiced tea. What we find is that they most
often practiced within a household context, Sōōn being a good exam-
ple of this as a woman connected to a prominent male practitioner.
Rather than focusing on women’s limited presence in records of tea
gatherings, another possibility is that we can see these women as ex-
amples from which we can surmise what may have been occurring
more widely beyond just the recorded instances that have come down
to us. By looking at writings on women’s tea practice, this book draws
connections between what was said about women’s tea practice and
examples of female tea practitioners that we know of. Such an ap-
proach allows us to say more than if we looked only at the records of
tea gatherings and student enrollments.
This brings us to another issue we must grapple with when dis-
cussing women’s participation in early modern tea culture: how do we
define a tea practitioner? Is it someone who was registered with a tea
school and appears regularly in records of tea gatherings? Or is it
someone who understands the basic tea-making procedures through
informal study, perhaps in a family environment? This point is not
something addressed in histories of tea culture, but it is an underlying
Introduction9

assumption that registration with a school and participation in gather-

ings are required for an individual to be identified as a tea practitioner.
This book instead argues that having knowledge of tea-making proce-
dures, or temae, should be how we discern whether or not an individ-
ual was a tea practitioner. Following Etsuko Kato’s lead, if we take the
procedures for making tea as the basis of tea culture, then “mastery of
temae” is what defines a tea practitioner.15
To be sure, there are differences in tea-making procedures among
the schools of tea. Nevertheless, all temae, at their core, share certain
elements, no matter who is doing them, and these are what mark the
act as distinct from just making a cup (or bowl) of tea. Such elements
include the specific placement of utensils and prescribed ways of han-
dling them. Variations among schools include differences between
men’s and women’s temae. To take a contemporary example from the
Urasenke school, women pick up the lid of the kettle with a folded silk
cloth, whereas men pick it up with their bare hand. The reason for the
difference in this case is that men are supposed to be better able to
tolerate the heat generated by the kettle.16 It is not known precisely
when such gender-based differences emerged, and of course opinion
on this subject largely follows opinion on when women first began
practicing tea. Historical evidence that does speak to this point—from
A Woman’s Handbook, for example—suggests there has long been con-
cern over how to adapt existing procedures for women. Chapter 3 dis-
cusses in detail the modifications indicated in that text; suffice it to say
here that they are not so extensive as to fundamentally change the
temae. Rather, they are minor adjustments, made with the intention of
saving women from (perceived) undue difficulty. It is worth noting
that the author of that text also suggested modifications that could be
made when children or the elderly did temae.
To return to the question of defining a tea practitioner, here, in
contrast to Kato, it is argued that “mastery” is too restrictive and that
“knowledge” is a more appropriate concept, since it includes even be-
ginners, who cannot be said to have yet “mastered” even the most ba-
sic techniques but are nonetheless participating in something we can
call tea culture. This definition also includes people who knew enough
to serve in the role of guest but not necessarily host a tea gathering or
perform every specific procedure. In a tea gathering, the guests, as well
as the host, followed set rules and procedures for performing their
role, and the guests interacted with each other and the host according
to patterns governed by the specific procedure. To be a guest, one
10Introduction

therefore had to have knowledge of the guests’ role in tea culture in

general terms and, beyond that, knowledge of the guests’ role for that
specific tea procedure.
Indeed, this is precisely why late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-
century guides for women’s edification, discussed in chapter 4, say
things such as “these days everyone is enjoying tea, so it is good to
learn at least how to drink it”—“learning how to drink it” meant
knowing how to be a guest. Of course, you could just drink a bowl of
tea any old way, but if you were an upwardly mobile woman, or aspir-
ing to be, in the nineteenth century and you were invited to a tea gath-
ering, you would have wanted to know the right way to drink a bowl
of tea, eat the sweets, interact with the host, even enter the room and
take your seat. Not knowing would be embarrassing—an experience
familiar to many nonpracticing Japanese and foreigners today who
have attended a tea gathering. As G. G. Rowley has noted in reference
to The Tale of Genji (Genji monogatari), in the Edo period knowledge
of the fifty-four chapter titles seems to have been the minimum knowl-
edge required of women wanting to present themselves as cultured.17
Likewise, we can say that enough knowledge of tea-making procedures
to perform the less formal and complicated procedures for making
thin tea and to be a guest for the more complicated and formal proce-
dures for making thick tea was the minimum required as far as tea
culture was concerned. The distinction drawn between thin and thick
tea also speaks to the difference between knowing the procedures and
being able to perform them. The procedures for making thin tea are
less formal and complicated than those for making thick tea. Gener-
ally, in tea study a student begins by learning the procedures for being
a host and a guest for thin tea, then learns how to be a guest for thick
tea (like the host’s role, the guests’ role for thick tea is more compli-
cated than for thin tea), and finally learns how to be a host for thick
tea. Along the way, a student also learns seasonal variations and varia-
tions dictated by using different utensils. In edification guides the em-
phasis on familiarity with rubrics rather than performance initiation is
significant because it is part of how tea practice for women was framed
in popular writings. A definition of a tea practitioner that is too re-
strictive easily obscures this.
As well as dismissing women’s tea practice historically, scholars
in Japan are also uninterested or have a negative view of women’s tea
practice in the contemporary period. A common criticism is that wom-
en’s tea practice today is not serious or lacks spiritual motivation. This
Introduction11

assumption is one reason why scholars have not looked for evidence of
Edo-period women’s tea practice or have not tried to contextualize
and analyze the evidence they have found. These scholars hold the
view that there is a pure, authentic form of tea culture located in the
past, in which women did not participate. For example, Yoshiaki Ya-
mamura comments that “disappearance of Zen spirit was a necessary
consequence of feminization of the tea ceremony.”18 At a broader level,
the popular and social aspects of tea culture in the Edo period have
also been viewed as a degradation of tea’s true spirit and authentic
traditions. Thus, scholars of tea culture have characterized its popular-
ization from the late seventeenth century as a negative phenomenon.19
Kumakura Isao has talked about the “illiteracy and buffoonery” of tea
practitioners from the mid-Edo period, which led to tea culture’s being
“vulgarized.”20 Paul Varley describes the situation in late Edo in this
way: “By its very intensity, the demand for training and participation
in the elegant pastimes threatened to transform them into casual
amusements for the masses. One reaction to this danger in chanoyu
was the rise of a movement to reaffirm, if not restore, its essential tra-
ditions, especially those associated with Sen no Rikyū.”21
Women were one group who participated in this popularization.
They were among the consumers for the new texts on tea in the eigh-
teenth century, which eroded the tradition of oral transmission from
master to student. Historians have tended to overlook these more pop-
ular aspects of tea culture in early modern Japan. Instead, they have
focused their attention on the “Rikyū revival” in the late seventeenth
century and the strengthening of the Sen family schools in the eigh-
teenth century, through the establishment of the “iemoto system.”
Women easily fall through the cracks in such an institutionally focused
history. What we find here is similar to what Lori Meeks noted in re-
spect to women and Buddhism in premodern Japan when she identi-
fied a difference between “Buddhism on the ground” and the Buddhism
of scholars at elite monasteries.22 Meeks argues that “the task of un-
derstanding how women understood and participated in Buddhism re-
quires an interdisciplinary, intertextual approach that challenges the
tendency of Buddhist studies to privilege doctrinal texts over social
and ritual practice.”23 Such an approach is applicable to the aim of this
study—namely, understanding how women understood and partici-
pated in Edo-period tea culture—pointing us to look beyond official
texts and the writings of Sen-school-affiliated tea masters. Once we do
this, we see that women were keen participants in tea culture at the
12Introduction

popular level, even though that may have meant they had a different
understanding of tea culture than male practitioners occupying elite
positions within the formal institutions of tea culture.
Particular features of the historiography of tea culture in modern
Japan have also contributed to the neglect of women in tea history. In
the modern period the three Sen schools of tea—Urasenke, Omote-
senke, and Mushanokōjisenke—have dominated tea culture and re-
search about it. The influence of tea schools on research has been
considerable, given that they control many of the primary sources,
who has access to them, and how and when they are published. They
also have influence over the publishing of tea-related scholarship,
through the publishing house Tankōsha, which is directly affiliated to
the Urasenke school and publishes many books on tea history and cul-
ture. In addition, because most tea scholars are students of a tea school,
they are unlikely to ­criticize or challenge the orthodox position on a
given subject. In some ways, the contemporary dominance of the
Urasenke school has been projected back into the past. Its history has
become tea history. This has affected scholarship in a range of fields
related to tea culture, not just women’s history but also the history of
ceramics and kaiseki (tea cuisine). As recent work by historians Mor-
gan Pitelka and Eric Rath indicates, the role of supposed individual
geniuses like Rikyū has been overstated to the extent that scholars
have neglected “other people, texts, trends, and factual content.”24
Histories that start with the founders of tea culture and focus on trac-
ing their lineages and important individuals within them through to
the present day are essentially privileging the role of individual tea
masters and ignoring the social and economic contexts in which they
operated. The types of sources that best reveal the context of Edo-pe-
riod women’s participation in tea or the discourses on women and tea
culture are not related to any specific school or individual (as commer-
cially published guides are) and have been overlooked in the linear and
institutionally focused approach to tea history.
It is in this historiographical tradition that focuses on individual
tea masters—the “great men” of tea culture—that the role of Gengen-
sai (1810–1877) is emphasized in the standard narrative of women in
tea history. Gengensai was the head of the Urasenke school at the time
of the Meiji Restoration. It is said by his descendants that he “was the
first . . . to open the doors of tea to women.”25 This claim about Gen-
gensai is often repeated in histories of tea culture. While it may mean
something quite specific—that Gengensai was opening the door for
Introduction13

women to become officially registered Urasenke practitioners—it im-

plies that women had not be able to study tea at all, in any school,
until Gengensai allowed them to do so. To emphasize this, references
to Gengensai’s allowing women to study tea are often preceded or fol-
lowed by references to the seventeenth-century tea master Sugiki Fusai
(1628–1706), who banned women from studying tea. Clearly, the idea
that Gengensai was the first tea master to allow women to study tea is
false. Even if one Edo-period tea master did ban women from studying
tea, there were many more who did not—there were those who, like
Ōguchi Shōō (1689–1764) and Ii Naosuke (1815–1860), wrote and
circulated instructional texts on tea for women; there were those who
had women attend their tea gatherings; and there were at least two
schools that officially registered women as students.
The emphasis on Gengensai in the story of how and when women
started studying tea occurred because of a desire to construct for Gen-
gensai the role of “liberator” of women within tea culture. As Atsuko
Sakaki has said of Japanese women’s literature from the Edo period,
“it appears that [it] .  .  . has been conveniently forgotten in order to
invent the notion of women’s liberation in modern Japan.”26 So too
has Edo-period women’s tea practice been forgotten in order to invent
the notion that Gengensai liberated women within the world of tea
culture. In portraying its head as a liberator of women, the Urasenke
school creates for itself a positive image, one that surely has currency
among the millions of women who study tea today. This portrayal is
part of how the Urasenke school has crafted an image for itself in
modern Japan and the West, where it has been recruiting students since
the 1950s. In histories of the Urasenke school and in general histories
of tea culture, much attention has been given to how the Urasenke
school under Gengensai transitioned tea culture from the Edo to the
Meiji period by allowing women to study and by new innovations
such as creating a tea procedure using tables and chairs. This book
shows that Gengensai should not be understood as an individual ge-
nius who saw the light of modernity and single-handedly dragged the
tea world toward it by bringing women, tables, and chairs into the
fold.

Rereading History through Women: Tea, Gender, and Status

An analysis of Edo-period writings on women’s tea practice
would be a worthwhile project in and of itself, given that the existing
14Introduction

scholarship has neglected the subject, but this book aims to do that
and more.27 Adding women to the story of Edo-period tea culture al-
ters, adds to, and helps us clarify both the history of Japanese tea
culture and the history of women in early modern Japan. For exam-
ple, by shifting our focus to women’s participation, we are forced to
look beyond official tea school records and records of formal partici-
pation. In so doing, the spread of tea culture as a popular activity
becomes apparent. We see that the large schools of tea did not have a
monopoly on the publication of information about tea culture, nor
did they necessarily benefit from its rise in popularity if people were
gaining their knowledge from commercial publications. In recent
years our perception of Edo-period women’s history has changed sig-
nificantly. We now know that women participated in a range of cul-
tural activities and could have high levels of learning and literacy.
Adding tea culture to the range of activities in which we know women
participated increases our understanding of the varied ways in which
women were active participants in early modern culture. Examining
writings on tea culture for women is another avenue for exploring
women’s learning and literacy. The link such writings reveal between
learning tea culture and heightening one’s status, through entering
into service and through improving one’s comportment, suggests that
women had a significant role to play in the blurring of status bound-
aries in the late Edo period.
In addition to changing our understanding of tea culture and gen-
der in the Edo period, this study has significance for analyzing the con-
temporary period. Women’s tea practice in modern Japan has been the
subject of recent research in anthropology by Etsuko Kato and Kaeko
Chiba. Their work seeks to understand how, when, and why women
study tea today and what their practice of tea means for their identity
and Japan’s national identity. Such analysis should be situated within a
historical context. Currently, the history that anthropologists like Kato
and Chiba draw on suggests that women’s tea practice emerged out of
a vacuum in the early twentieth century. This lack of historical per-
spective has meant that key features of the contemporary period are
thought to be recent developments. Kato and Chiba both argue that
tea is a vehicle for women to learn etiquette in contemporary Japan,
and they see this as a modern, primarily post–World War II develop-
ment. Eighteenth- and nineteenth-century writings on women’s tea
practice also advocated that tea was a vehicle for women to learn eti-
quette and manners. Both Kato and Chiba argue that the way women
Introduction15

in contemporary Japan acquire and use the symbolic and cultural cap-
ital accumulated through their tea practice is similar to the way that
male commoners in the Edo period practiced tea to acquire symbolic
and cultural capital. They make a clear link between male commoners
in early modern Japan and middle-class women in Japan today; how-
ever, female commoners in early modern Japan are entirely left out of
the equation because they are absent from the historical literature.
Chiba goes further than Kato in making a case for tea culture’s use in
class empowerment as well as gender empowerment for women in
contemporary Japan. But just like women in Japan today, women in
the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries acquired symbolic and cultural
capital through their knowledge of tea culture and used it to heighten
their status. There is, then, a much longer history to this connection
between tea and etiquette and the reasons why women learn tea or are
encouraged to learn it, as well as how women’s knowledge of tea can
be used to improve their lives in other ways. This book does not go as
far as Kato and Chiba in using the term “empowerment,” in relation to
either gender or status. Rather, it suggests that we should not see such
a sharp divide between the Edo and Meiji periods, or even the pre–
and post–World War II periods, as Kato and Chiba argue for.
In considering this connection between learning tea culture and
etiquette, an obvious factor has been overlooked. The emphasis on
controlling and moving the body in prescribed ways and on handling
utensils and objects gracefully makes tea culture a natural way to learn
etiquette and manners. The idea that tea was used historically to teach
aspirational women and men how to comport themselves in the man-
ner of their social superiors, and to teach women how to be feminine
and refined, does not seem like a stretch. What is more surprising is
that it has been supposed this connection did not happen or that it is a
relatively recent development in tea culture. Why tea culture would
not have had appeal among women in the Edo period, or why its obvi-
ous benefits for women would not have been touted, requires more
explanation than arguing that this was the case. Of course, tea culture
was not the only way to learn etiquette and manners. There were
schools of etiquette, such as the Ogasawara school, and writings about
nearly every cultural practice included some discussion of the “cor-
rect” way to do things, including holding the body. This was true for
martial arts, poetry gatherings, musical pursuits, and dining at formal
banquets.28 In such a context, it is only natural that tea culture was
likewise presented as a way to learn to comport oneself, and it was one
16Introduction

option among many presented in the edification guides discussed in

chapter 4.
That such an obvious fact has been overlooked suggests the per-
vasiveness of the argument that “women did not practice tea prior to
the Meiji period” and the stubbornness of those invested in perpetuat-
ing that narrative in the face of contrary evidence. Parallels can be
drawn with the sakoku/kaikoku narrative in Japanese political history,
in which a long-held dictum was that Japan was a closed country (sa-
koku) throughout the Edo period, and did not open (kaikoku) until the
arrival of American commodore Matthew Perry in the mid-nineteenth
century forced its hand. This idea persisted in academic circles for a
long time, despite evidence to the contrary and the clearly Western-
centric nature of this notion, given that the Tokugawa shogunate had
maintained relations with China, Korea, and the Ryukyu Kingdom
and indigenous Ainu populations to its north, as well as limited trade
with the Dutch at Deshima. Not until the pioneering work of historian
Ronald Toby did the “myth” of sakoku truly begin to unravel. None-
theless, the idea holds such sway and presents such a simple, even ro-
mantic vision of Tokugawa Japan and its relations with the outside
world that it remains current in popular perceptions to this day. Like-
wise, the notion that women did not practice tea prior to the Meiji
period is a simple, neat story that can be easily repeated by tea practi-
tioners and popular authors catering to them. The more complicated
stories are a harder sell because they do not romanticize the past or
serve particular ideological or political purposes. If women partici-
pated in tea culture prior to the Meiji period, then Gengensai is no
longer a liberator of women, just as America cannot have opened a
Japan that was never closed.
As well as altering the narrative of the history of tea culture, the
story of how women have been written out of this narrative is impor-
tant from the perspective of feminist history. For many decades now,
historians have understood that in the process of writing history they
exercise some judgment about their subjects of study. These judgments
are informed by the politics and subjectivities of the historian. In a
feminist iteration of this perspective, Adrienne Rich argued that femi-
nist history is political in the same way that “the history of white men,
as told by themselves, is political, having to do with the retention of
power.”29 Expanding this line of thinking to the case of Japanese tea
culture, it is worth considering that the history of tea culture and im-
portant individuals within tea culture has primarily been told by the
Introduction17

very institutions and individuals who hold power within that world.
Therefore, when they write history, it is a political act that plays a role
in the creation and retention of power among a small elite to which
they belong. This can be seen in the way that the history of the
Urasenke school, which is the largest and most powerful school of Jap-
anese tea culture in the contemporary period, has become a stand-in
for tea history. Although it would be a stretch to say that women have
been deliberately left out of tea history in order to create or maintain
power among a male elite, we can say that the limited power and influ-
ence women have within contemporary tea culture is reflected in their
limited presence in tea history, as it has been told by elite men and
male-dominated institutions. From the perspective of feminist history,
recovering the history of Edo-period women’s tea practice gives a voice
and a past to contemporary women’s tea practice, from which it can be
shown that women have just as much of a place and a role within tea
culture, its history and traditions, as do men.
A further reason for examining writings about tea practice for
women from the Edo period is that is has implications for our under-
standing of the official status system that governed early modern soci-
ety. One reason for the spread of tea practice among commoner women
is that they used tea as a means of learning to comport themselves in
the manner of the elite and thereby heighten the appearance of their
status. In learning tea, women learned to sit, stand, carry objects, open
and close doors, and eat and drink in an elegant and graceful manner.
They could thus transform the way in which they performed the quo-
tidian actions that in a subtle but powerful way convey one’s accumu-
lation of social and cultural capital. For this reason, learning tea was
one form of preparation for going into service. And the elite house-
holds who employed female attendants valued their knowledge of tea
culture as a symbol of their own capital accumulation. This capital
could be displayed to other members of the family or household and to
political ­associates at tea gatherings in which female attendants par-
ticipated as hosts or guests. Through commoner women’s accumula-
tion of symbolic and cultural capital, the status gap between commoner
and higher-­ranking court aristocratic and samurai women was blurred.
That is, the social boundaries between these status groups became less
significant. This development was part of a “civilizing process” that
occurred during the mid- to late Edo period.30
In using terms such as “elite” and “commoner,” this study moves
away from discussing Edo-period society using the terms usually as-
18Introduction

sociated with the status system (mibunsei). In this rendering of the so-
cial order, there were four principal status groups known as the
shi-nō-kō-shō hierarchy: at the top were samurai warriors (shi); below
them were peasants (nō), then artisans (kō), and merchants (shō) at the
bottom. The status groups were assigned their place in the hierarchy
according to a Confucian view of their contribution to society: samu-
rai governed; peasants cultivated the land and fed the populace; arti-
sans produced goods; and merchants were parasites who made money
off the products created by others. In addition there were status groups
on the margins of the official system, such as courtesans, monks and
nuns, and the various outcaste groups known as eta and hinin. Follow-
ing David Howell, this book identifies “commoners” as a single group,
consisting of those who fell into the categories of “peasants,” “arti-
sans,” and “merchants” in the above schema.31 Commoners consti-
tuted approximately 90 percent of the population of early modern
Japan.32 “Elite” is used here to refer to those of warrior status (bushi,
“warriors,” or buke, “warrior houses”), approximately 6 to 8 percent
of the population.33 “Elite” also refers to the even smaller number of
court aristocrats and members of the imperial family, some one thou-
sand people. Grouping them together is not meant to imply that there
was no awareness of difference within this idea of “elite.” The differ-
ence in status between a member of the court aristocracy and a samu-
rai warrior was apparent to everyone. But a distinction can be drawn
between those who were part of a small elite and the majority of the
population, who were nonelite. Status, or standing, within each group
also mattered—one could be a high-ranking or low-ranking samurai,
an urban commoner (chōnin) or a rural commoner (hyakushō); a
wealthy commoner could be better off than a low-ranking samurai ek-
ing out a living as a petty bureaucrat or than a samurai who turned to
mercantile activities for his livelihood;34 a rural entrepreneur could
live a significantly more comfortable lifestyle than a commoner in an
urban tenement. The issue of social mobility and blurring of status
boundaries is discussed in more detail later, but here it is important to
make the point that “occupation rather than birth was the principal
criterion for categorizing people.”35 This means that social mobility
was a possibility, for status was not determined at birth and then fixed.
Furthermore, status determined one’s relationship and obligations to
authorities but did not necessarily determine one’s wealth or standard
of living. Although this book makes no claims that learning tea cul-
ture, or any other one specific skill or cultural practice, specifically led
Introduction19

any one individual to cross status groups, it must be acknowledged

that it was possible to bridge, or at least blur, status boundaries. This
possibility particularly applied to women, who could change status
upon marriage, because status was assigned to units of organization,
such as the household, rather than to individuals.36 Even if practicing
tea did not result in raising one’s status, acquiring the social and cul-
tural capital associated with it could help individuals heighten their
status, if we allow for the possibility of status being a social as well as
legal category. Status in this sense can be understood as one’s position
or standing in society. With its focus on ways of moving the body,
manners, and etiquette in interactions with others, tea culture was an
especially strong candidate in the range of possible artistic or cultural
pursuits one could follow to attain this end.
Finally, a focus on women helps us understand the history of tea
culture in early modern Japan. The spread of tea among commoner
women in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries did not occur di-
rectly as a result of policies put in place by the tea schools or at their
behest. Rather, in edification guides that had no connection to the tea
schools, tea was promoted as an art with which women should be fa-
miliar. Guides included illustrations and information about all of the
main utensils used and step-by-step instructions for the basic proce-
dures. The tea schools were probably not making any money out of
women who simply read these guides. A woman who knew a little but
not too much, which is what the guides advocated, was of no use to
the tea schools. In fact, it is in this way that the popularization of tea
posed a threat to the institutions that made money out of controlling
the information and discourse on tea culture. Shifting our focus to
women and popular writings on women’s tea practice brings this into
sharp relief. It also helps us see how ordinary people, particularly
women, came to know about tea culture in the Edo period and possi-
bly even begin practicing.
Shifting our focus away from male tea masters to women allows
us to see the range of ways in which women participated in Edo-period
tea culture and how their participation was supported or limited by
other individuals and wider society. It shows us how women worked
within and outside accepted paradigms of tea practice, revealing a
story about women in early modern Japan that has not been told and
complicating the history of Japanese tea culture. For example, eigh-
teenth- and nineteenth-­century popular writings on tea practice for
women reveal the spread of tea culture outside the parameters set by
20Introduction

the schools. This was happening at the same time that the large tea
schools were attempting to increase their control over all aspects of tea
culture, including book production. The expansion of tea culture to
new social groups occurred in a cascading process, first with com-
moner men emerging as an audience for written texts on tea in the
seventeenth century, followed by elite women in the early eighteenth
century, then commoner women from the mid-eighteenth century. Fi-
nally, this study considers the relationship between Edo- and Meiji-
period writings on women’s tea practice by looking at what changed
and what did not when Japan b ­ egan its transition to modernity in the
late nineteenth century. It thus offers us a new perspective from which
to understand the popularity of tea practice among women in twenti-
eth-century Japan. In particular, we discover a long history behind
linking tea culture to the cultivation of femininity. While training the
body to be graceful has been articulated as a reason for women to
study tea from at least the early eighteenth century, women’s tea prac-
tice has also been framed as a way of cultivating the mind in both the
early modern and modern periods. There is no single mode of tea prac-
tice for women; historically, women have participated in tea culture
for a variety of reasons and in myriad ways. Writings about tea prac-
tice for women reveal multiple levels of practice and layers of meaning
behind such practice, adding a rich texture to our understanding of
women’s involvement in chanoyu tea culture.

Chapter Outlines
By examining writings on women’s tea practice that circulated
during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, this book puts women
back into early modern tea history. Rather than looking at the few in-
dividual women who are known to have practiced tea at this time and
have been held up as exceptions to the norm, our attention is turned to
the ways in which tea practice for women was understood, articulated,
and promoted in privately circulated and commercially published
texts. In some cases the entire text was devoted to the subject of women
and tea practice—for example, the privately circulated manuscript A
Woman’s Handbook (Toji no tamoto), which is the subject of chapters 2
and 3. It was penned by a tea master within a tea school that found its
adherents among people of warrior status: those near the top of the
social hierarchy. This was not a text on tea practice for all women;
rather, it was intended for a select group of women. In both the early
Introduction21

eighteenth-century text and a later nineteenth-century transcription,

the purpose behind elite women’s study of tea culture is revealed—
studying tea was a way of developing morals, ethics, and control over
the mind. Other writings on women’s tea practice were found in com-
mercially published guides for women’s edification that were aimed at
a commoner audience. In these texts, the reasons for women to study
tea were to cultivate genteel femininity by learning comportment, eti-
quette, and manners associated with the elite. Tea culture, however,
was not the main subject of edification guides; the section on tea sat
alongside sections on other cultural accomplishments such as playing
musical instruments. These guides presented a package of information
for the aspirational commoner woman that taught her the customs,
manners, and skills of those she wished to emulate. Writings on wom-
en’s tea practice thus differed in form, whether they were a single text
or a portion of a larger text, and message, whether they framed wom-
en’s tea practice as a means of cultivating the mind and inner self or as
a means of cultivating a refined appearance. The differences in form
and message can perhaps be attributed to the ultimate difference in
audience, elite or commoner.
Understanding the discourses around women’s tea practice prior
to the Meiji period can then help to view the developments of the late
nineteenth and early twentieth centuries in a new light. The modern
discourse on tea practice for women, which began in the Meiji period,
was shaped in large part by the ideas circulating in Edo-period writ-
ings. The shift toward women being the majority of tea practitioners
began to occur in the Meiji transition to modernity. In this new socio-
political context the frameworks of the previous era converged: women
were now encouraged to study tea to cultivate the mind, develop mor-
als and ethics, and acquire gracefulness. They were also encouraged to
study tea for a new reason: to develop or preserve the essence of a
Japanese genteel femininity. That is, national identity-making now be-
came part of the motivation behind women’s tea practice, in addition
to cultivation of the body and mind of an individual.
In focusing on early modern writings about women’s tea practice
that were aimed at samurai and commoner women, some groups of
women tea practitioners were necessarily excluded from this study be-
cause they were not the target audience of such works. Courtesans, for
example, were expected to be proficient in tea culture as one of the
many arts they mastered and then deployed in the entertainment of
their customers. Evidence from imperial convents indicates that tea
22Introduction

culture formed part of the salon culture at these cloistered aristocratic

institutions. Itinerant and lay nuns also practiced tea culture.37 In
short, women of all social backgrounds engaged in tea culture during
the Edo period to varying degrees and for a range of reasons. They
could practice tea as a hobby, learning only the basics, or tea practice
could be a lifelong pursuit to which much time, energy, and money
were devoted. Although this book does present information about in-
dividual women who practiced tea in early modern Japan, its main
focus is what was said about why women should study tea and how
they should do so. The examples given of specific women are used to
illustrate how the written word was put into practice.
Tea culture in the Edo period was not limited to chanoyu. But
more so than sencha (Chinese-style steeped tea drinking), flower ar-
rangement, or other arts in which many women participated, tea is
uniquely positioned to provide us with insight into the body and bodily
discipline. We can then consider how comportment, gender, and status
were linked: for example, how an elite woman carried herself and how
this mode of comportment was marketed to lower-status women. In
this respect, consideration of masculinity within Edo-period tea cul-
ture would also be a useful area of analysis. The place of women in the
history of Japanese tea culture has been so neglected that it seems nec-
essary to first redress this imbalance before embarking on a wider con-
sideration of gender vis-à-vis masculinity. The specific focus here is on
femininity and tea culture. The issue of masculinity and how it was
defined by or played a role within early modern tea culture, as well as
how it operates within modern tea culture, demands consideration in a
future study.
Chapter 1 sets the scene for the specific analysis of writings on
women and tea culture that follows. It describes the landscape of tea
culture in the Edo period; the context of economic transformation and
a commercial publishing boom; and the popularization of tea culture
as a result of this economic transformation. Records of women’s par-
ticipation in tea culture during the Edo period are introduced that re-
veal a pattern of household-based tea practice for women. Women’s
education and literacy during this period are also discussed, and the
question of audience is addressed. The chapter ends with two literary
examples of women tea practitioners.
In chapter 2 we turn our attention to the emergence of writings
on women’s tea practice by examining the eighteenth-century text A
Woman’s Handbook, the only extant text that in its entirety is about
Introduction23

women and tea culture. This handbook for women’s tea, penned by a
tea master of the Sekishū school, is explored in detail to reveal how
women’s tea practice was conceived. In the handbook, women’s tea
practice was framed with a focus on morality and modesty. The book
was aimed at women of samurai status, and standards of “appropri-
ate” or “correct” manners, tastes, and behavior were disseminated
through the text. It was one stage in a civilizing process that saw the
audience for written information on tea culture expand to include elite
women.
Chapter 3 then considers this same handbook in the nineteenth
century, as it was transcribed, amended, and put into practice by one
influential daimyo tea master, Ii Naosuke. Using the tea practice of Ii
household women as an example, we look at one particularly signifi-
cant reason why women, especially those of lower samurai and com-
moner status, studied tea in the Edo period; learning tea was considered
good preparation for going into service at an elite (that is, court aristo-
cratic or samurai) household. In the latter half of the period, studying
tea became an increasingly common form of marriage preparation and
education for women. There appears to be a correlation between the
rise of this practice and the increasing popularity of tea among women
at this time. This chapter discusses the role that learning arts such as
tea and entering into service played in blurring status boundaries.
Chapter 4 shifts our attention to popular writings on women’s
tea practice, which developed from the mid-eighteenth century in the
next stage of the civilizing process. In guides for women’s edification,
tea culture was presented as essential knowledge for women, including
those of commoner status, not just because it was a popular activity,
but also because it taught women how to be graceful. Accumulation of
symbolic and cultural capital was a significant motivating factor be-
hind commoner women’s tea practice. This popular framing of wom-
en’s tea practice is further evidence of the blurring of status boundaries,
with the spread of elite culture to commoners, and the popularization
of tea culture to a broader segment of society occurring outside the
control of the major tea schools.
Chapter 5 moves the discussion into the Meiji period, long con-
sidered the beginning of women’s tea practice, investigating the ways
in which modern writings both carried on, and differed from, their
early modern period predecessors. While the idea that learning tea cul-
ture was a way of cultivating genteel femininity emerged in the Edo
period, discussion of women’s tea practice was taking place in an en-
24Introduction

tirely new social and cultural context by the early twentieth century.
This new context is reflected in the changing terminology and reasons
used to promote tea to women. In particular, tea became associated
not only with femininity but also with national identity. Studying tea
thus took on a new importance for women. Tea was no longer just a
way to cultivate gender and status identity. It became a way to culti-
vate national identity too.
The epilogue discusses women and tea culture beyond the Meiji
period and foreshadows developments of the modern period that have
been discussed by other scholars in light of what we know of the Edo
and Meiji periods from the preceding chapters.
 Chapter 1

Women and Tea Culture in

Early Modern Japan

T
he landscape of tea culture in the Edo period can be
­divided into two spheres: a highly codified and institu-
tionalized sphere of elite tea practice for the heads of tea
schools; and a popular world of practice in which tea culture was one
cultural pursuit among many for the increasing number of people with
the time and means to engage in it. The history of tea culture in the Edo
period is most often told from the perspective of the elite sphere. In con-
trast, this chapter maps the entire tea culture landscape, examining both
spheres and the overlap between the two. Two developments in particu-
lar are highlighted. One is the iemoto system, which led to greater con-
trol over the dissemination of information by the institutions of tea cul-
ture. Second is the commercial publication boom, which led to
widespread dissemination of information about tea culture outside the
control of those institutions.
Women were part of the audience for information on tea culture
at both the elite and popular levels. But if there were both private and
mass-market writings about tea culture that targeted a female audience,
to what extent could women of different social backgrounds read these
texts? Here women’s education and literacy are examined in order to
address this question. Further, what do we know about women’s en-
gagement in tea practice beyond what was written in these texts? Evi-
dence from records of tea gatherings allows us to draw some conclusions
about the context of women’s practice, which appears to have been
family or household based at the elite level. Finally, who were the
women who participated in tea culture during the Edo period? Records
of tea gatherings tell us very little beyond their name and family back-
ground, but examples from theatre can help flesh out a characteriza-
tion. The chapter concludes with two such examples from the puppet
theater and kabuki that help us imagine what types of women practiced
tea and to what ends.

25
26 Chapter 1

Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan

The practice of drinking tea had come to Japan from China in the
Heian period (794–1185) through Buddhist monks who used it as an
aid to meditation. It became popular when it was reintroduced by the
monk Eisai in the Kamakura period (1185–1333). As tea drinking
spread from the priesthood to the nobility in the Muromachi period
(1336–1573), it became a form of leisure involving gambling and games
in which different types of tea were classified and compared. During the
later part of this period, and in the subsequent Azuchi-Momoyama pe-
riod (1573–1603), tea culture became codified into the form we know
today as chanoyu. Although tea culture emerged in Kyoto and its envi-
rons, the practice spread throughout the archipelago, especially to the
newly established shogunal capital of Edo after 1603, as well as to pro-
vincial castle towns and cities. By the nineteenth century, tea culture was
practiced in urban and rural areas throughout the Japanese islands by
learned and cultured people of all social levels.
Tea culture was closely tied to the world of politics and war from
the outset. At roughly the same time that Japan was emerging from de-
cades of domestic warfare among rival warlords in the late sixteenth
century, the basic structures of chanoyu as we know them today were
codified and institutionalized. Over the course of this thirty-year period
and into the first decades of the Edo period (1603–1868), a succession
of powerful warrior leaders gradually pacified and unified other war-
lords under their hegemony. This process began with Oda Nobunaga
(1534–1582), followed by Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1537–1598) and finally
Tokugawa Ieyasu (1543–1616), who established the Tokugawa shogu-
nate. Among the earliest influential tea masters were merchants from the
port city of Sakai—men such as Takeno Jōō (1502–1555) and Sen no
Rikyū (1522–1591). These merchant tea masters were also political and
aesthetic advisers to warlords such as Nobunaga and Hideyoshi. Later
tea masters took up positions as advisers to the various daimyo and
shoguns of the Tokugawa period. Some, such as Ii Naosuke (discussed in
chapter 3), combined a career as a tea master with that of a politician
and statesman. For their part, warlords like Hideyoshi, Nobunaga, and
Ieyasu utilized tea culture as a way of gaining legitimacy in the cultural
realm, and they forged political ties through the gifting and exchange of
tea utensils.1
Through the patronage of military and political leaders, as well as
the efforts of the early chanoyu masters, tea culture became an estab-
lished and institutionalized part of aesthetic culture. Tea culture encom-
Women and Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan27

passed a range of art forms such as calligraphy, painting, ceramics,

lacquerware, metalwork, woodwork, architecture, and gardening. It
provided one of the main contexts for the patronage, creation, consump-
tion, and display of art in the Edo period. This occurred through the
collecting and commissioning of tea utensils by practitioners, the prac-
tice of exchanging tea utensils as gifts, and the display of utensils at tea
gatherings. The practice of displaying utensils during a tea gathering af-
ter the preparation of tea allows for the guest to view them up close
(haiken) and enter into a conversation with the host about them. For
example, a guest may inquire about the shape and origin of a tea con-
tainer or about any patterning on the lacquerware. The bamboo tea
scoop typically has a poetic name (gomei), which the guests learn from
the host during this exchange. The arrangement of utensils (toriawase)
forms a story the host is telling to the guests. When both the hosts and
guests are knowledgeable in tea and its material culture, the display of
utensils functions as a way of conveying that knowledge, as well as the
hosts’ level of taste and wealth. The utensils used for a tea gathering are
noted in a record (chakaiki) kept by the host, along with information
about their maker, the materials used, and their names. Tea utensils such
as tea bowls, tea caddies, and silk pouches became valued as art objects.
Their provenance, history of ownership and use, and aesthetic value all
contributed to the high monetary value placed on them. The act of par-
ticipating in a tea gathering was also seen as an artistic or aesthetic prac-
tice, in the same way as a poetry gathering.2
The codification of tea culture as an aesthetic practice began with
Jōō and Rikyū, but this process intensified with subsequent generations
of tea masters. Institutionalization occurred as structures were set in
place to ensure that the teachings and lineages of early tea masters con-
tinued on. A whole range of tea schools emerged in the seventeenth cen-
tury, broadly divisible into two categories. First were those that were
founded by and mainly served commoners. Second were those estab-
lished by, and catering primarily to, warriors. All tea schools either
traced themselves back to or in some way claimed to be the legitimate
heirs of the early tea masters who “founded” tea culture, whether by
blood descent or through connection to specific teachers and secret
teachings. The Sen schools, which dominate the contemporary tea land-
scape, were established by the great-grandsons of the early tea master
Sen no Rikyū. Their father, Sen Sōtan (1578–1658), wanted to ensure
the stability and longevity of the Sen lineage. He did this by dividing the
estate and property in Kyoto among his three sons and aligning each of
28 Chapter 1

them with a daimyo household as their tea adviser.3 Kōshin Sōsa (1613–
1672) was given the front of the Sen family property, thereby giving his
lineage the name “Omotesenke” (omote, meaning “front”). He was em-
ployed by the Kii branch of the Tokugawa House. Sensō Sōshitsu (1622–
1697) inherited the rear, or ura, of the property, thus establishing the
Urasenke lineage. He found employment with the Maeda domain. The
part of the property bordering Mushanokōji street was inherited by
Ichiō Sōshu (1605–1676), who served the Takamatsu domain and
founded the Mushanokōjisenke school.
Aside from the Sen tea schools, which traced their lineage back to
Rikyū, the other major tea schools established in the seventeenth cen-
tury were founded by men who also claimed to be heirs to the traditions
and teachings of the early masters but were not direct descendants.
Many of these schools were founded by daimyo who were also tea mas-
ters in their own right, giving rise to the term daimyo cha (warlord tea).4
Among these were the Sekishū, Enshū, Oribe, Horinouchi, and Yabu-
nouchi schools. The term “warlord tea” is used because their style of tea
practice is said to have been more ostentatious and therefore suited to
the lifestyles of military and political leaders, as opposed to the simple,
austere style of tea (known as wabi cha) practiced by the Sen schools.
Regardless of the school, the practice of tea was (and is) based in
codified procedures for making tea (temae), of which there are numer-
ous varieties. Slight differences between schools exist in manners, ways
of moving, and the handling of utensils. With the same basic elements at
their core, the procedures change according to the season and the types
of utensils being used. The status of the guest, setting (indoor or out-
door, the size and layout of the tearoom), level of formality, and many
other factors can go into determining which procedure is followed. Ir-
respective of the procedure followed for tea preparation, a formal tea
gathering has some basic elements: the host lays charcoal; serves a meal
(kaiseki); prepares a bowl of thick tea (koicha), shared by all the guests;
and a bowl of thin tea (usucha) for each guest.
Today most tea practitioners experience chanoyu through classes
first and foremost, with tea gatherings typically held for important
events or celebrations. Such tea gatherings are usually large, public or
semipublic affairs, and the tea preparation can amount to a perfor-
mance, with the guests becoming more of an audience than actual par-
ticipants in the proceedings. In the seventeenth–nineteenth centuries, by
contrast, tea gatherings were typically small affairs, with a host and up
to five guests. The large-scale tea gatherings that feature prominently on
Women and Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan29

the tea calendar today were rare. Classes were held, but it is difficult to
know the actual details of how classes were run and what exactly was
taught. Certainly, without the same means of mass communication and
dissemination of information, it is unlikely that there was as much con-
sistency among teachers as is found today.
That said, a major development in the seventeenth century was the
emergence of a system to control the dissemination of information, li-
cense practitioners, and authenticate utensils: the iemoto system, as it
has come to be known. By the late seventeenth century, tea culture had
become popular in both senses of the word: it was practiced by many
people and was part of the culture of the majority. In response to the
increasing interest in studying tea among an ever-growing section of so-
ciety, many of the large tea schools developed a new structure.5 The
iemoto system placed the head of the school (iemoto) in the position of a
family patriarch who controlled the licensing system allowing people to
practice tea, with licenses being awarded progressively through a struc-
tured curriculum. The head also set the standards on matters of taste
and connoisseurship for the school, for example, by setting up patron-
age relationships with particular ateliers.6 Under the head of each school
were a number of high-ranking disciples, who in turn had their own
students, and the pattern continued down the pyramid to the lowest
level of students and teachers. Students and teachers all paid fees to the
head according to rank, so the system gave the schools a measure of fi-
nancial stability as well as allowing for continued growth in the number
of practitioners while limiting power to the head at the top of each
school. This prevented the establishment of new branch schools by each
disciple, as had been occurring previously.
At this time, information on tea culture was disseminated orally,
from teacher to student, or in writing.7 Written texts on tea culture con-
tained the teachings of one tea master and were for a select readership of
disciples. They were circulated through private networks in manuscript
form. Manuscript culture was central to many artistic, cultural, and in-
tellectual pursuits in the Edo period.8 Despite the rise of woodblock
printing and a commercial publishing industry, manuscripts continued
to be produced and circulated precisely because they ensured a limited
audience for secret or restricted knowledge—for example, those who
had attained appropriate licenses within a particular school of tea or
poetry. Furuta Oribe’s Transmitted Secrets of the Way of Tea (Chadō hiden,
1615) is one example of a privately circulated manuscript on tea cul-
ture.9 By reading it, one gained access to the knowledge of the tea mas-
30 Chapter 1

ter himself. Thus, dissemination of such texts was purposely limited.

Within the structure of tea schools that developed under the iemoto sys-
tem, information about tea culture and who had access to it could be
tightly controlled. As in other art forms or cultural practices, such as
haikai or waka poetry composition,10 among the minutiae of differences
between the schools the secrecy of such information often mattered
more than what the information was.11 Being admitted to the small cir-
cle of those who held such knowledge was a marker of status within
that cultural sphere.
One tea school that did not follow the trend for consolidation
and central control was the Sekishū school, out of which came the
only ­extant text entirely devoted to the subject of tea practice for
women: A Woman’s Handbook (Toji no tamoto, 1721). The Sekishū
school is therefore of particular interest for this study. Founded by
Katagiri Sekishū (1605–1673), it was one of the major tea schools of
the Edo period. Sekishū set himself up in opposition to the then head
of the Sen family, Rikyū’s grandson Sen Sōtan. Sekishū did not ac-
knowledge the tradition of blood descent but instead stressed the im-
portance of transmission from teacher to disciple.12 The school was
popular among daimyo in particular, and Sekishū served the fourth
shogun, Tokugawa Ietsuna (1639–1680), as official tea master from
1665. Because of Sekishū’s opposition to transmission through blood
lineage, the school proliferated into many branches. Many daimyo ad-
herents did not wish to submit themselves to the authority of a teacher
and established their own lines.13
A Woman’s Handbook (discussed at length in chapter 2), authored
by a tea master in the Sekishū school, was a privately circulated manu-
script. Like other manuscripts, it was intended not to be read widely but
to be shared among like-minded practitioners within the same school.
Several references in the text make it clear that the author, Ōguchi Shōō
(1689–1764; also known as Gansui), was writing his instructions for
women of samurai status, which was the status of most adherents of the
Sekishū school. Therefore this manual on tea practice for women was
meant not for women in general but for a specific group of women,
those of samurai status who practiced the Sekishū style of tea.
Because adherents of the Sekishū style of tea practice were able to
operate without control from a centralized hierarchy, they may have
been more willing, receptive, or able to promote tea practice among
women than practitioners in other schools were. However, the Sekishū
school was not the only school in which women practiced tea. Records
Women and Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan31

of women attending tea gatherings (discussed in more detail below)

come from a variety of schools, including the Sen schools.14 In ­eighteenth-
and nineteenth-century commercially published guides for women’s edi-
fication (the subject of chapter 4), authors advocate that women learn
tea. However, there is no mention of any particular school of tea or any
suggestion that one must necessarily study with a licensed teacher. It is
therefore difficult to say with any certainty what the tea school land-
scape looked like for women during the Edo period. It would appear
that women tea practitioners, though limited in number, were associated
with most, if not all, of the tea schools at this time. It is also quite likely
that many women engaged in tea practice without having any formal
ties to a tea school.

Popularization of Tea Culture

The practice of tea was one of a number of “polite arts” or “arts of
play” (yūgei) that formed part of both the elite and popular cultures of
the Edo period. At the same time that tea culture became institutional-
ized through the establishment of tea schools and the iemoto system, it
also became popularized as knowledge about tea culture spread beyond
the sphere controlled by tea school heads. This popularization was made
possible by the publication of texts on tea, which were not necessarily
sanctioned or produced by the tea schools. These texts targeted a
wealthy commoner audience who increasingly had the means to partici-
pate in activities like tea and had the desire to do so because of its im-
portant place in aesthetic and political culture.
During the seventeenth century Japan experienced a period of
major economic growth, including both agricultural and commercial
expansion, resulting in population growth and urbanization. Over the
course of the Edo period, long-term economic growth led to rising
standards of living, particularly in the eighteenth and nineteenth cen-
turies. Increases in agricultural productivity, for example, meant that
farmers could accumulate surpluses that they could use to invest fur-
ther in agriculture, particularly new technologies or techniques, or to
engage in commerce. While samurai were on fixed stipends, common-
ers derived their income from this agricultural and commercial activity
and could thus accrue profit. In the cities a new stratum of wealthy
merchants emerged, while in the countryside there was a new stratum
of rural elite.15 This new elite was able to invest time and money into
32 Chapter 1

education and leisure activities, once the preserve of the court aristoc-
racy and samurai.
Wealth and status (that is, one’s position in the official social
­hierarchy), which theoretically went hand in hand, thus became dis-
connected. Confucian scholar Ogyū Sorai (1666–1728) noted this
problem, as he saw it, several times in A Discourse on Government
(Seidan, ca. 1726):

The profits of merchants in the last hundred years are quite unprece-
dented since the world began. . . . The military class, no longer thinking
highly of rice and valuing only money, are being deprived of their
wealth. They are being sucked dry by the merchants and forced day by
day into greater poverty. . . .16
The fact is, if only they have the money, even the lower classes
can imitate the daimyo with impunity. It is very sad to notice how in
today’s world those who are without money feel of no account and
how even men of high rank and virtue are, as a matter of course, hum-
bled and treated with contempt.17

Although Sorai may have exaggerated his claims for rhetorical ef-
fect, given that he was promoting his own moral code for society, there
is no doubt that samurai impoverishment vis-à-vis commoners was a
real and increasing trend over the course of the Edo period.
A new, wealthy stratum thus emerged within the commoner status
group. These wealthy commoners looked for ways they could live the
lifestyle afforded by their wealth, a lifestyle above what was deemed ap-
propriate to their sociopolitical position. Adopting a lifestyle associated
with higher status was made possible by the commercialization of cul-
tural activities such as tea. Participation was no longer limited to those
who had the right status or connections but was open to anyone of fi-
nancial means; they could purchase guides that detailed all aspects of
elite culture, and they could pay for lessons and licenses.
Attempts at overturning the status quo by commoners living
above their station were unsurprisingly condemned by the old elite.
An adviser to the Maeda domain said of the situation in 1835:
“Among the households of urban commoners . . . are many . . . who
do not preserve their status. . . . [They] coveted the houses of those of
higher status . . . . There are many who no longer observe the status
regulations, who spend too much money, who have a poor sense of
social responsibility.”18
Women and Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan33

To limit the blurring of established social lines, the Tokugawa

shogunate periodically issued sumptuary regulations, relating to what
clothing members of each status group could wear and how they could
decorate their houses, for example.19 The shogunate’s attempts to
maintain social distinction in this way was symptomatic of the threat
posed to the social and political order by the rise of wealthy common-
ers.20 While commoners were, in many cases, becoming wealthier than
their superiors, moving up the social ladder was still blocked by the
official status hierarchy. A wealthy commoner could take on the life-
style of an aristocrat or a samurai yet could not so easily become an
aristocrat or a samurai in official terms. The trappings of success, such
as clothing, cultural attributes, and manners, therefore became impor-
tant markers of an alternative status hierarchy in which wealth and not
sociopolitical rank defined one’s position.21 With economic growth
came new and ever-increasing opportunities for communication across
status boundaries, particularly as commoners began to engage in cul-
tural arts that had once been the preserve of the elite. Commoners
found it increasingly important to learn the appropriate modes of com-
munication, both verbal and nonverbal, with which to communicate
with their social superiors.
The world of aesthetic pastimes associated with the court aristoc-
racy and samurai was particularly attractive to the upwardly mobile as
an area in which their wealth and cultural learning could be displayed
and as a means of learning elite manners and modes of communication.
By the end of the seventeenth century, wealthy commoners had come to
embrace cultural arts such as tea. The formal structure of a cultural or
aesthetic gathering, such as for tea or poetry, was important because it
regulated how social interaction occurred. Within this environment,
contact across status lines became more common. Popular comic fiction
author Ihara Saikaku (1642–1693) described this connection between
upwardly mobile commoners and cultural arts associated with the elite:

In general, the Osaka rich were not descendants of old families that
had prospered for many generations. Most of them were the type of
person who was formerly called “Kichizō” or “Sansuke” [typical “red-
neck” names] but now they strive to enrich themselves. They have
learned to socialize with people from “good” families while learning
poetry-making, playing kemari [a ball game], archery, koto-harp, flute,
or drum music, the perfume game, or the tea-ceremony. By that time
they have lost their countrified accents.22
34 Chapter 1

Another popular author, Nishikawa Joken (1648–1724), also de-

scribed the links between economic growth, status, and accomplishment
in cultural arts:

Now that the townspeople have piled up a lot of money, they proudly
attempt to raise their status by aping the manners of the aristocracy
and the samurai. When the rest of the people, whether educated or not,
look at these newly refined city folk, they are consumed with envy and
push themselves to the limit in order to imitate [their polite arts]. In
this way, the behaviors associated with the polite arts became the cus-
tom of the country as a whole.23

Nishikawa also noted that an increasing number of masters of

these arts came from commoner stock. Thus, artistic pursuits became
popular as a way for upwardly mobile commoners to increase their so-
cial standing and have contact with others of higher status.
Tea culture was particularly suitable to those wishing to heighten
their status through appearing refined and graceful. In an examination of
the popular Ogasawara school of etiquette and manners, Eiko Ikegami
notes that “the deployment of the body in acknowledging and expressing
status differences was the most basic principle in Tokugawa manners.”24
Tea was one way of training the body because the procedures for making
tea were learned through repetition of set body movements. Students
would learn to control their body so as to appear graceful and elegant in
each action they undertook. Students would also learn how to deploy
their body to express status difference through actions such as bowing.
Though in the popular image of tea culture promoted today it is said that
status distinctions have no place inside the tearoom, preserving status
distinctions was very much a part of tea culture in the Edo period. Thus,
two purposes were achieved through studying tea: learning to appear el-
egant and graceful by controlling one’s body movements, and learning to
express status differences in interactions with others. It was therefore an
appealing pastime to take up for upwardly mobile commoners wishing to
increase their social cachet through their appearance. Indeed, tea had
long been an art used by social climbers to demonstrate their new stand-
ing in society. One of the great unifiers, Hideyoshi, who rose from hum-
ble origins as the son of a farmer, famously employed tea culture in his
quest to become cultured and “pursue legitimacy.”25
Tea practice can be understood as what Pierre Bourdieu called
symbolic capital and cultural capital.26 Symbolic capital arises from the
Women and Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan35

prestige that tea has as an activity of the social elite; cultural capital
arises from the tea practitioner’s acquired knowledge and skills, which
allow the practitioner to communicate and interact through a specific
code rendered meaningless and unintelligible to outsiders. As Bourdieu
has suggested, symbolic capital becomes particularly important when
economic capital is not recognized.27 In the Edo period, economic capi-
tal, though significant, was not recognized formally or institutionally as
the most important form of capital accumulation. Symbolic capital
thus took on particular significance for those who wished to deny the
importance of others’ economic capital—for example, samurai who be-
came increasingly impoverished during the period but remained above
commoners in terms of official status. Symbolic capital also served as a
form of capital accumulation for those whose economic capital went
unrecognized—for example, commoners who could amass significant
wealth but remained at the bottom of the four-tier status system. As
Etsuko Kato puts it, “temae has always been a means for nondominant
groups to obtain symbolic-cultural capital, because temae enabled rela-
tively disadvantaged but ambitious groups to acquire a type of self-
discipline [of the body and mind] . . . usually associated with socially
superordinate groups.”28
Rather than raising their official status, commoners generally
heightened their standing within the group to which they already be-
longed. That is to say, upward social mobility in the sense of actually
crossing the boundaries from one status to another was rare. A distinc-
tion was made between material and social mobility, with the accumula-
tion of material wealth not having the same impact on social status that
it would in a society not bound by officially prescribed status distinc-
tions. Thus, within the status group of commoners, a new stratum of a
wealthy, cultured elite arose, who through the deployment of their eco-
nomic capital were able to acquire the sort of symbolic and cultural
capital that had previously been the sole preserve of the court aristoc-
racy and the samurai. They could literally buy access to learning arts
that taught them the manners, tastes, and skills that were invested with
symbolic and cultural capital.
As tea gained popularity among commoners seeking to acquire
cultural capital, the demand for information increased. This resulted in
the publication of woodblock-printed texts detailing information about
tea culture that had previously been passed down orally or in privately
circulated manuscripts. The context for this change was a commercial
publishing boom from the seventeenth century, along with a rise and
36 Chapter 1

spread of literacy among the population.29 Certain features of Edo-­

period publishing—such as the use of woodblock printing, which al-
lowed for phonetic glossing of kanji in the text, and extensive illustrations
accompanying the text—meant that most books were suitable for popu-
lar consumption.30 And with approximately ten thousand books in
print, “being sold or lent in more than seven hundred bookstores na-
tionwide” by the late seventeenth century, popularly consumed they
were.31 The numbers of bookstores continued to grow, while lending li-
braries, sometimes consisting of a stack of books being carried around
on a person’s back, and credit systems operating in bookshops also
made books available to a wider market.32
The market included a wide variety of books on assorted topics,
from specialized works on tea culture (like those described below) and
works dealing with the latest scientific and medical information coming
from Europe, to guides to travel and the pleasure quarters, military
handbooks and rosters of the shogunate, household encyclopedias, and
various genres of popular fiction.33 The plethora of genres and the seem-
ingly insatiable appetite of the early modern reading public have led
historian Mary Elizabeth Berry to describe the book market as a “li-
brary of public information.”34 One part of this library consisted of
how-to books and guides to popular arts. That men were among the
readership for new texts on tea culture, and therefore also likely partici-
pating in the practice of tea, has been well understood.35 Female
­consumers and producers of tea culture have yet to figure in the analysis.
The first mass-market text dealing with tea culture was Grass, Per-
son, Tree (Sōjinboku, 1626), which, in three volumes, detailed the proce-
dures for making and serving tea and for handling the utensils, as well
as the layout of the tearoom.36 By making access to information on tea-
making procedures available to anyone, Grass, Person, Tree departed
markedly from the tradition of oral or manuscript transmission of infor-
mation to a select group of adherents. In the late seventeenth century,
more commercially produced books, such as Complete Writings on the
Way of Tea (Chadō zenshō, 1693) and A Collection of Tea Commentary
(Chanoyu hyōrin taisei, 1697), entered the market.37 Complete Writings
on the Way of Tea, carrying on from Grass, Person, Tree, represents a sig-
nificant shift in the way information about tea culture was presented.
The author of this encyclopedic text aimed to “bring together the secrets
of every house, including . . . [Takeno] Jōō, Rikyū, Furuta [Oribe], Ko-
bori [Enshū], Hosokawa [Sansai], Katagiri [Sekishū], and more.”38 It
thus exposed the secret teachings of these famous tea masters to an
Women and Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan37

anonymous reading public. No longer was information about tea cul-

ture limited by school affiliation; now consumers could purchase knowl-
edge from a range of tea masters.
The publication boom was not limited to books on tea procedures.
Catalogs of utensils, such as Diverse Domestic and Foreign Utensils
(Wakan shodōgu, 1694), were also popular, for they provided informa-
tion on ideal utensil types for people who may not have had access to
the real objects, as well as acting as catalogs and guides for people who
could travel to Kyoto and purchase the original goods.39 In addition,
books that gave more weight to illustrations than text may have been
popular among consumers with limited literacy. Some texts on tea uten-
sils went beyond the scope of a catalog, giving guidance to amateurs on
how to make their own utensils. Information on raku ceramics, popular
among tea practitioners, was disseminated in this way.40
Starting with Grass, Person, Tree and then Complete Writings on the
Way of Tea, commercially produced texts on tea culture thus contributed
to the popularization of cultural and artistic activities among a wider
segment of the population and in areas well beyond the cultural centers
of Kyoto and Edo, because they made information on these pursuits
readily available. The publication of such texts in the late seventeenth
century was a sign of the increasing desire of commoners to participate
in tea culture. This, in turn, was a contributing factor in the Sen tea
schools’ attempts to control the spread of tea culture through the iemoto
system.41 Yet, in spite of their attempts to limit the spread of informa-
tion, tea practice and connoisseurship were occurring outside the pur-
view of the tea schools.

Women as Readers and Consumers

Recent research has shown that women formed part of the new
readership consisting of consumers and cultural producers who were
targeted by commercial publishers from the seventeenth century. It is
thought that women may even have been the main purchasers of books
for the home from the mobile lending libraries.42 Women may also have
been involved in the publishing industry, as copyists, publishers, and
booksellers.43 A testament to the existence of a large female reading
public is the proliferation of texts for women on a variety of topics, ac-
companied by debates among intellectuals on what constituted suitable
reading for them. Indeed, a new category of “women’s books” entered
booksellers’ catalogs in 1670: “a development that bespeaks profes-
38 Chapter 1

sional recognition of a new class of reader, if not of purchaser, and iden-

tification of certain types of book as appropriate for women.”44
Coinciding with and contributing to the commercial publishing
boom was an increase in women’s education, particularly from the eigh-
teenth century. This growth in women’s education can be linked to the
economic growth of the period, in that families who had money and
could forgo the potentially productive labor of their daughters were
more likely to invest in education. In a story published in 1725 a father,
reflecting on the opportunities available to his children that did not exist
when he was young, comments, “Nowadays the world has changed, and
even the daughter of a humble household like ours [they ran a rice-
cleaning shop] can have lessons in writing and reading.”45 In Primary
School Handbook for Girls (Onna terako chōhōki, 1806), the opening im-
age is a scene from a school for girls (figure 1).46 In the foreground two
girls are practicing writing kanji on large scrolls while a younger girl
looks on and an older girl, standing behind them, holds a scroll that
reads “A Reading and Writing School for Girls.” In the back of the pic-
ture, three girls are reading books. A woman, possibly a teacher, is peer-

Fig. 1. “A Reading and Writing School for Girls.” In Primary School Handbook
for Girls. 1806. National Institute of Japanese Literature.
Women and Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan39

ing around the door from the room where the girls are reading, looking
in on those practicing writing. This image represents a school such as
the daughter of the rice-cleaning shop owner may have attended.
Educational opportunities varied greatly across status and geo-
graphical lines, but as historian Peter Kornicki has observed, “by the
early nineteenth century there were large numbers of institutions in
most parts of Japan, rural and urban, offering some kind of basic educa-
tion.”47 Girls studied at such institutions, including private academies
and temple schools, as well as in the home. The variations were so great
that it is impossible to generalize beyond individual cases except to say
that girls could receive an education.48 For the city of Edo, it is esti-
mated that during the eighteenth century there were two or three temple
schools in every ward, where middle- and lower-class commoner women
could go to learn reading and writing. Further, about one in three of
these schools had a female teacher, often a commoner or the wife of a
masterless samurai.49 Later data, from the early nineteenth century, also
supports these findings, showing that female teachers or proprietors of
schools were not uncommon in Edo and that women ran schools out-
side the capital too.50
Girls might also have lessons in reading and writing in the home,
either from another family member or from a hired tutor. From at least
the late seventeenth century, female tutors were hired to teach young
girls in the home, if their family was wealthy enough to hire one and had
books available for her to use. Even commoner girls might have access
to books in the home. In 1736 the Sanda family from Kashiwara Village,
Shiki County, in the suburbs of Osaka, had among their collection of
239 titles, consisting of 1,054 volumes, “texts for basic writing and
books for instructing girls.”51 Many of the guides for women’s edifica-
tion that feature sections on tea also have sections on reading and writ-
ing.52 For example, Essential Knowledge for Women’s Prosperity and
Longevity (Joyō fukuju-dai, 1774, 1785) includes a section on “essential
sentences for women,” accompanied by an image of a young girl about
to begin practicing writing characters while an older girl sits opposite
her with an open book on the floor in front of her.53
Shogunal authorities encouraged the spread of literacy among girls
as well as boys through education. A proclamation to writing school
teachers, issued as part of the Tenpō reforms of the 1840s, stated, “Ev-
eryone—boys and girls, high and low—should be able to read and write
appropriate to their station. .  .  . For women Onna Imagawa [an illus-
trated primer in kana for girls], Jokai [a Chinese Confucian reader for
40 Chapter 1

girls], and Onna kōkyō (Filial piety for women) are recommended along
with writing practice.”54 The phrase “appropriate to their station”
reminds us that status usually determined the type and amount of
­
­education people received, or were meant to receive, in the Edo period.
As well as status, gender was a factor affecting educational oppor-
tunities. In general, the rationale for women’s education differed from
that for men’s. A woman’s education was intended to assist her in mar-
rying well and to provide her with the skills to manage her domestic and
social responsibilities after marriage, whereas men’s education was more
intellectually oriented. Education was necessary to prepare girls not just
for future roles as household managers but also for many of the occupa-
tions women took on. Women often contributed their labor to a family-
run business in the case of merchants, but they possibly also engaged in
paid work outside the home. Texts such as A Record of Treasures for
Women (Onna chōhōki, 1692) and A Treasure Chest of Greater Learning
for Women (Onna daigaku takara bako, 1716) show that women were
employed in a wide range of occupations, from prostitution to farming,
fishing, spinning, weaving and sewing, and working in service as atten-
dants, wet nurses, and cooks, to name but a few.55
Access to education was of course determined by geography and
family circumstances. Girls in Edo, Kyoto, and Osaka were far more
likely than those in regional areas to attend school, and girls from
wealthy families were far more likely to have a private tutor come to
their home than girls from a poor family. Geography and class may have
been far greater barriers to learning and literacy than gender.56 As a gen-
eral rule, women’s literacy rates were higher in areas where male rates
were also high. This does not mean, though, that women in rural areas
were necessarily at a disadvantage to their urban sisters, for rural girls
could also have the educational opportunities to become literate de-
pending on their family’s economic circumstances.57
Literacy could mean different things in the context of the Edo pe-
riod.58 Functional literacy could mean simply the ability to write one’s
own name, while full literacy might include the ability to read govern-
ment documents and conduct commercial transactions written in com-
plicated, epistolary-style hybrid Sino-Japanese. Therefore it is more
appropriate to speak of literacies than literacy when discussing the sev-
enteenth through nineteenth centuries.59 Recent research conducted by
Japanese scholars on women’s diaries, including accounts of travel, as
well as the study of letters written by women, indicates that literate
women were not out of the ordinary by the later part of this period.60
Women and Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan41

Women reading A Woman’s Handbook, for example, would have needed

literacy in kanji because the text is written in a mixture of kanji and the
phonetic kana script, without phonetic glossing for the kanji. For the
purposes of reading commercially published edification guides, being lit-
erate in the phonetic kana script would have sufficed because kanji were
used sparingly and, when used, were glossed with kana. As Richard
Rubinger has suggested in regard to agricultural manuals published
around the same time, “the kana glosses made these works ideal for oral
presentation, enabling the content to be communicated with only kana
literacy to those who could not read the phonetic script themselves.”61
The use of illustrations would also assist in the dissemination of infor-
mation to those who did not have enough literacy to read the text. To
make a comparison with the agricultural manuals again, Rubinger notes
that “in terms of the dissemination of agricultural information and tech-
nology, it does not matter much whether ‘ordinary farmers’ actually read
the books themselves or had the books read to them.”62 This also holds
true for women and the dissemination of information about tea culture.
It is possible, for example, that phonetic glossing was added to facilitate
reading when copies were made of A Woman’s Handbook, or that women
who used this text had it read to them by someone else, such as a teacher
(who may have been male or female). Edification guides may not have
been read individually by women but in groups of friends or family
members. By whatever means they received the information in these
texts, women were being told that they should participate in tea culture
and exactly what parts of tea practice they should master.

Records of Women’s Participation in Tea Culture

Women did not just read about tea culture in manuscripts and
commercial books. They also participated in culture through the actual
practice of making tea in the prescribed manner of a temae, or by sitting
as a guest and drinking tea in the prescribed manner. Tea gatherings
were undoubtedly the most significant site for the practice and produc-
tion of Edo-period tea culture. Participating in a tea gathering was a
sign of one’s status as a tea practitioner. During a gathering all of the
guests’ interactions with each other and the host were governed by pro-
cedures and rules of etiquette, as transmitted orally by tea masters in the
iemoto system and as set down in manuscript and published texts on tea
culture. Knowledge of tea culture, the defining characteristic of a tea
practitioner, extended to guests as well as hosts at tea gatherings.
42 Chapter 1

A host often kept a record of a tea gathering (chakaiki) that listed

the names of guests and what order they sat in—the role of first guest,
for example, being most important and usually given either to the per-
son with the most knowledge of tea culture or to a person the host
wished to honor. Sometimes it was not the host who kept a record but a
guest. Prominent tea practitioners such as Sen Sōtan kept records of all
gatherings they attended, for example.63 In other cases, such records are
not separate documents but part of a diary detailing the author’s life
beyond tea culture. These records are a commonly used source by tea
historians, for they reveal very specific details about early modern tea
practice and the networks forged by practitioners. When the records are
read for evidence of women’s presence at tea gatherings, as either hosts
or guests, a clear pattern emerges: many of the gatherings were hosted
or attended by prominent male tea practitioners; and women most often
participated in family- or household-based networks of tea practice—
for female attendants the network was based in the household where
they worked rather than their family.
The diary of the head of Yoshida Shrine in Kyoto in the late six-
teenth century, Yoshida Kanemi (1535–1610), is an example of this type
of record. Yoshida Kanemi was an influential figure in Kyoto; he had a
successful career at court and was an associate of the military leaders
Oda Nobunaga and Toyotomi Hideyoshi.64 He regularly attended tea
gatherings, including many hosted by Satake Ushū, lord of Dewa Prov-
ince (present-day Yamagata and Akita Prefectures). His diary details
that his wife, Seijo, and daughter, Michiyo, sometimes accompanied him
to tea gatherings. For example, on 1577/9/7 Kanemi, Seijo, and Michiyo
were guests at a tea gathering held by Satake.65 Seijo also attended an-
other gathering held by Satake on 1579/9/3.66
Another diary, that of the sixteenth daughter of Emperor Gomizu-
noo (1596–1680; r. 1611–1629), Shinanomiya Tsuneko (1642–1702),
details her participation in tea gatherings. The diary, Mujōhōin-dono
gonikki, was written between 1666 and 1700. The first day of the diary
records a tea gathering for opening the new jar of tea for the year (kuchi
kiri). In attendance were retired emperor Gomizunoo, retired emperor
Gosai (1637–1685; r. 1654), her half brother to whom she was ex-
tremely close, and several imperial princesses.67 She was also a regular
guest at tea gatherings held by Gosai.68 Tanihata Akio has argued that
while Shinanomiya serves as an example of women’s involvement in tea
during the Edo period, we cannot concretely know about the other
women of aristocratic, samurai, and commoner families who may also
Women and Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan43

have practiced tea.69 However, although Shinanomiya is certainly

unique, because of the detailed accounts of her tea practice preserved in
her diary, she is not the only example of an Edo-period female tea prac-
titioner. In Shinanomiya’s case, we know about her tea practice because
her high status as a woman of the imperial family ensured that her diary
was preserved. Likewise, other individual women for whom we have
records of attendance at tea gatherings were also of high status, re-
nowned in some way, or connected to prominent male tea practitioners,
ensuring that such records are now available.
Tagami Kikusha (1753–1826) is an example of a woman who
achieved some renown in her lifetime and whose records of tea practice
have been preserved. Kikusha was a nun in the Shin sect of Pure Land
Buddhism who spent her life on the road, traveling all over the main
Japanese islands for some thirty years after taking the tonsure at age
twenty-seven. She was a poet in the haikai and kanshi genres, as well as
a painter, calligrapher, musician, tea practitioner, and maker of tea uten-
sils.70 Records of tea gatherings that she kept show that she was an avid
participant in tea culture who hosted many gatherings.71 On 1796/12/3
for example, Kikusha hosted a tea gathering in Nagasaki.72 This was a
noon (shōgo) gathering, a standard type of formal tea gathering. It in-
cluded a full kaiseki meal as well as the laying of the charcoal (shoza); a
thick tea service (koicha); an intermission (nakadachi) when the guests
retired from the tearoom to a waiting area; rebuilding of the charcoal
(goza); and a thin tea service (usucha). Kikusha acted as the host for five
guests. In the tenth month of 1808, Kikusha borrowed the premises of
Ito Mokunojō (dates unknown) and held a tea gathering that lasted for
an extraordinary twenty days.73 In her case, her network of tea practice
was not based on the family or household, for as a nun Kikusha was free
of such ties.
Historian Tani Akira has identified numerous records of tea gath-
erings that women attended.74 These records most clearly reveal the pat-
tern of familial or household-based networks of practice for women.
For example, on 1595/9/25 a gathering was held by Kobayakawa Taka-
kage (1533–1597), a senior retainer of the warlord Hideyoshi who held
the Imperial Court rank of Middle Councilor (chūnagon). Five days ear-
lier Kobayakawa Hidetoshi (1577–1602), Takakage’s adopted son and
the nephew of Hideyoshi, had held a tea gathering in the tearoom of the
Kobayakawa castle to mark his succession as the head of the family do-
main, Najima, in Chikuzen (present-day Fukuoka Prefecture). The
guests at the subsequent gathering held by Takakage were Hidetoshi’s
44 Chapter 1

wife and five of her attendants,75 as well as Hidetoshi and a Hakata

merchant and associate of Rikyū and Hideyoshi, Kamiya Sōtan (1553–
1635).76 Sōtan was an avid chronicler of all tea gatherings he attended,
and according to his record of this occasion in his diary, after Hidetoshi
left his seat the remaining guests enjoyed themselves all day long, drink-
ing sake, and listening to music.77 Tani suggests that the purpose of this
tea-gathering-cum-all-day-long-banquet must have been to recognize
the women’s service to the family.78 Whatever the motivation, this was
clearly a social occasion, and women participated in the proceedings as
guests alongside a prominent male tea practitioner and male members
of their family/household.
A common feature of all the records of women’s participation in
tea gatherings during the Edo period is that the women were from the
same family/household as the host or from the same family/household
as one of the male guests, as seen in the above examples. Other exam-
ples include gatherings at which daughters and granddaughters were
present, in addition to wives and female attendants.79 The records of
Kawakami Fuhaku (1719–1807) also evidence this pattern. Fuhaku was
a disciple of the seventh-generation head of the Omotesenke school,
Joshinsai Tennen (1705–1751), who went to Edo to promote
Omotesenke-­style tea and founded his own school there, Edosenke. He
is credited with increasing the popularity of Sen-style tea among com-
moners in Edo, as well as daimyo, among whom the Sekishū style had
been dominant.80 In the records of his tea gatherings, women were pres-
ent on four occasions. On 1782/9/14 he held a gathering at which the
guests were a Matsudaira Kuranosuke, his wife, and three of her atten-
dants. Matsudaira, his wife, and her attendants also attended two other
gatherings held by Fuhaku: later that same year, on 1782/11/24, and the
following year, on 1783/2/12. At a gathering Fuhaku held on 1788/9/2
there were four guests: the wife of Lord Nakagawa, her female atten-
dant, and two men, Hōshō Shinojō and Ano Yasoemon.81 Lord Nak-
agawa refers to Nakagawa Shuri, the lord of Bungo-Takeda Province
(present-day Oita Prefecture), who was a supporter of Fuhaku. Hōshō
Shinojō was a Noh actor. The identity of Ano Yasuemon is unknown,
but it has been suggested that he may have been a retainer of Nakaga-
wa’s.82 Even if we assume that Nakagawa’s wife was accompanied by
one of her husband’s retainers, this stands out as a rare instance of a
wife attending a tea gathering without her husband. It also serves as an
example of just how a tea gathering could operate as a space in which
people from various social backgrounds came together—with a tea
Women and Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan45

­ aster, a provincial lord’s wife, her attendant, a Noh actor, and a samu-
m
rai retainer all sharing tea together.
In many examples of women’s participation in tea gatherings a
wife was accompanied by her female attendants. Because the attendants
are also recorded as having been guests at these gatherings, we can as-
sume that they too were well versed in the procedures and etiquette of
tea culture. Tea practice was not limited to women of elite status but
was also an accomplishment of the lower-ranking women who served
them. The tea practice of women in service is discussed in more detail in
a later chapter. Important here is an observation we can draw from re-
cords of tea gatherings: that elite women who were tea practitioners
would have expected some of their female attendants to be proficient at
the art so that they could accompany their mistress to gatherings. That
said, there are instances of female attendants attending a tea gathering
alone. For example, Sumiyama Yoho, a student of Omotesenke tea un-
der Joshinsai, held a gathering on 1848/12/16 whose guests included
three female attendants of the Major Councilor of State (dainagon).83
That women seem to have participated in tea gatherings within a
family or household environment may give a clue as to why more gath-
erings involving women are not recorded. Unless a prominent guest such
as Kamiya Sōtan was present, then a family-based gathering was not so
likely to be recorded or have its record survive. In addition, women who
appear in such records were from wealthy and elite households. While
they were certainly able to invest the time and finances necessary for the
study of tea more than commoner women, it is also the case that tea
gatherings at which they were present were far more likely to be re-
corded. There is every possibility that women participated in many more
tea gatherings than extant records indicate. Yet, if commoner women
were participating in tea gatherings, whether they were doing so in the
same context as elite women—that is, within the family and a circle of
close friends—is difficult to say without further evidence.
Those commoner women who went into service at an elite house-
hold and were tea practitioners were certainly participating in a
household-­based network of practice. In so doing, they were interacting
with people beyond their immediate family and status in an intimate
environment. It appears that during the eighteenth and nineteenth centu-
ries, commoner women’s participation in tea culture increased, as did the
numbers of women going into service. These trends were related, with
studying tea being a means of preparation for going into service. Once in
service, women may have continued their practice of tea: participating in
46 Chapter 1

tea gatherings within their household or accompanying their mistress to

tea gatherings outside the household, for example. Tea gatherings were
thus spaces in which women of varying statuses could interact with each
other and with men. These themes are expanded on in chapter 3.
As places where people from various backgrounds could interact,
tea gatherings can be described as a form of “aesthetic socialization,”
along with activities such as gatherings for poetry writing, flower ar-
rangement, and incense appreciation.84 In what has been described as a
salon culture, personal relations among people of various social back-
grounds could be forged through mutual enjoyment of arts such as tea.85
In this sphere of aesthetic social interaction, officially prescribed status
identities could be left behind and artistic identities assumed, through the
use of artistic names.86 Artistic and cultural gatherings therefore pro-
vided sites where people of various social backgrounds could mingle
freely for the pursuit of a common interest. Indeed, it may be that aes-
thetic pursuits became increasingly popular during the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries because they provided a much-needed vehicle for
social interaction among strangers in the large urban centers.87 Tea cul-
ture was one such vehicle for social interaction. As the author of one
guide for women’s edification told his readers, “Tea has become very
popular, so if you do not know the rules you cannot interact with peo-
ple.”88 Tea, as a group activity, was thus an important form of social in-
teraction in which a woman could display her learning to others. For
elite women and those who served them, this aesthetic socialization and
display usually occurred in a familial/household context.
In records of tea gatherings, we find only isolated instances of
women participating in these sites of social interaction. Nonetheless, we
can draw some conclusions about women’s participation in tea culture
from this. For a male practitioner, hosting a tea gathering at which his
own wife, daughter, or granddaughters were present would have been a
way of acknowledging their tea practice and displaying it to a select
group of associates. Through the women’s knowledge of tea, the family/
household’s accumulation of cultural and economic capital was on show
for all to see. As historian Anne Walthall states, “In a status system de-
signed to lock families in place, one arena in which competition took
place was the aesthetic sphere; hence a highly cultivated woman could
rebound with credit on her family’s reputation.”89 Elite women displayed
not only their personal accumulation of capital at occasions such as tea
gatherings but that of their female attendants too, further enhancing
their own prestige. Having attendants who were proficient in tea was
Women and Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan47

evidence of a household’s economic and social status, for only the very
affluent could afford to employ attendants who spent their time indulg-
ing in arts rather than productive labor. For a host, extending an invita-
tion to a man’s wife and her companions, rather than just to him alone,
would have been a way of honoring both her and the husband. Tea gath-
erings, then, could serve as sites for the conspicuous display of capital, as
embodied by women. They could also function as important occasions
for socializing, even if only within the family and a close circle of friends.
Personal and familial relationships were reinforced and strengthened
through such gatherings, and women could play a role in these networks.
These observations challenge the entrenched idea that women were not
“serious” tea practitioners who participated in tea gatherings.
Eiko Ikegami argues that a common feature of all early modern
cultural networks, be they centered around poetry or tea, was that “they
created ‘publics,’ or spheres of socialization that represented intersec-
tions of various social and cognitive networks.”90 Through these net-
works not only did people of various backgrounds come into contact
with each other, but also a common culture based on aesthetic values
and common notions of civility developed. It is these developments that
led Ikegami to the conclusion that “the growing popularization of aes-
thetic networking practices began to blur the outlines of the mibun-
based [status-based] categories.”91 It did so because participation in
“sites of aesthetic sociability required the temporary leaving of feudal
official identities.”92 The practice of adopting artistic names most clearly
evidences how feudal identities could be transcended through participa-
tion in the arts. A practitioner would adopt a name that would be used
for all activities associated with a particular art; one person could have
multiple names as he or she adopted a new one for each art form. There-
fore the person’s “real” identity in the context of the social status system
was theoretically concealed. Much has been made of the ability for peo-
ple to transcend their official identity through adopting artistic names,
yet as Walthall has commented, “it is possible that even though samurai,
artisan, merchant, and actor checked their identities at the door, they
remained aware of them nonetheless.”93 In any case, cultural networks
created a space in which interactions could take place that would not
generally occur within the context of a hierarchically structured status
system, whether or not people actually remained aware of their real-
world identities in that space.
But what of gender identity within the context of cultural net-
works? Could gender identities be transcended or “checked at the
48 Chapter 1

door” as status identities could? Ikegami, for one, suggests that

women’s participation in such networks was another form of bound-
ary trespassing.94 This would be true for tea culture if we assume, as
many have done, that at one point it was an exclusively male do-
main. If this was the case, then women’s participation would indeed
have been a form of boundary trespassing. Certainly women’s par-
ticipation in tea culture did increase toward the end of the eighteenth
century, and there were always some male practitioners who did not
approve of this. Yet evidence shows that small numbers of women
were participating in chanoyu tea culture from early on. This evi-
dence suggests that women always participated in tea culture, even if
only in small numbers initially, and that their participation did not
require or lead them to transcend their gender identity. This is not to
say, though, that the tearoom was a gender-equal environment. As we
have seen, women were most often guests rather than hosts and were
not usually the first or main guest at gatherings in which they par-
ticipated. This suggests that gender hierarchies were maintained to a
large extent within tea culture. The growth of ­female participation in
tea culture, then, reflects the popularization of elite culture and the
blurring of status boundaries more than it does the breakdown of
gender boundaries.
The pattern of family- or household-based tea practice among
women just described is further evidenced in theatrical depictions of
women who were involved in tea culture. From the puppet theatre
comes the example of Osai, a tea master’s wife in the Chikamatsu play
Gonza the Lancer who takes over the running of the tea “business” while
her husband is away. Kabuki theatre gives us the example of Masaoka,
a nursemaid in a daimyo household who displays dignity, loyalty, and
courage—ideal characteristics of a samurai woman—in part through
her knowledge of the procedures for making tea in chanoyu. Osai and
Masaoka also represent the type of elite woman who may have accessed
a privately circulated manuscript on tea culture and participated in tea
gatherings. She is the type of woman the audience for commercially
published writings were encouraged to emulate.

The Tea Master’s Wife—A Literary Example

As records of tea gatherings indicate, the women who were most
likely to participate in tea culture were from a family that included
male practitioners. Osai, the wife of a tea master from the puppet play
Women and Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan49

Gonza the Lancer (Yari no Gonza kasane katabira, 1717), is a partici-

pant in a family-based network of tea culture. At the start of the play
Ichinoshin is away in Edo, and Osai has responsibility for managing
her husband’s affairs, including those to do with tea. As the wife of a
tea master, she possesses considerable knowledge about tea culture
and can be entrusted to be the guardian of such knowledge in her hus-
band’s absence. It is also Osai who is responsible for instructing the
younger members of the family in tea culture, including her son, who
will one day take over his father’s role as tea master. The play pre-
miered in 1717 and was based on events that had occurred in Osaka
that same year.95 The story concerns a typical Chikamatsu theme of a
double suicide by star-crossed lovers, in this case Osai and Gonza, a
student of Ichinoshin.
Osai’s position and responsibilities as the wife of a tea master are
outlined in the following section of the play:

Osai watches over Asaka Ichinoshin’s house during his absence. Ele-
gant and gay, as a tea master’s wife should be, her slender and delicate
build gives her a grace and charm that belie her thirty-seven years,
though she is the mother of three children. She sweeps and dusts the
tea room, never letting a maid inside, so devoted to tidiness that her
broom never leaves her hand. Today she scatters pine needles along the
path of stepping-stones to the teahouse.96

In addition to having charge of the maintenance of the teahouse

and gardens, Osai also has responsibility for the upbringing of the chil-
dren. Thus she instructs her ten-year-old-son:

Now, while you’re still young, you should learn how to hold the tea
ladle and how to fold the napkins. I’ll get a terrible reputation if people
start saying that you children are being brought up badly while your
father’s away in Edo. I’ll be mortified.97

It is thus implied that Osai will be the one to instruct her son in the
basics of tea. Though the young son has not yet gained any skill in tea,
her elder daughter, Okiku, has. The narrator tells us:

Okiku is exactly as an eldest daughter should be [and suggests that her

mother should rest awhile]. . . . She offers powdered tea in a cup of
Otowa ware. Osai notices how grown up her manner has become.98
50 Chapter 1

The most interesting part of the story, for our purposes, concerns
the preparations for the performance of the shin no daisu temae—a
method of preparing tea using the formal shelf unit for holding and
displaying utensils. This performance is to happen at the celebrations
for the marriage of the local daimyo’s son. Because Ichinoshin is away
in Edo, one of his students must perform the service. This particular
method of preparing tea is one of the secret procedures that is generally
transmitted only orally from father to son or possibly to a senior
­student. The service has not been transmitted to any of Ichinoshin’s
students. Gonza and another student, Bannojō, both desire to perform
the tea procedure. The first approach to Gonza asking him to perform
the procedure is made by Ichinoshin’s father-in-law, Iwaki. After Gonza
agrees, Iwaki hands over responsibility for making the decision to his
daughter, Osai:

It’s nothing I can decide myself. My daughter, as you know, is Ichi-

noshin’s wife, and she must be consulted. Any mistakes made about
initiation into the formal ceremony will disgrace his lordship.99

Osai must have considerable knowledge of the procedures involved

in order to be able to make the important decision as to whether Gonza
can perform the procedure or not. As Iwaki indicates, this decision has
ramifications for the reputations of not just those involved but the
daimyo as well. Gonza then goes to see Osai and asks her to show him
the scroll, and in doing so, “he bows his head to the matting with all the
courtesy expected of a disciple.”100 By showing Osai all the respect that
is accorded to Ichinoshin, Gonza acknowledges that she has taken over
the position of Ichinoshin in his absence. She responds by saying:

I admire your zeal and your unusual devotion. As you know, however,
the secret teachings are transmitted within a family, and may be re-
vealed only by the master to his son. In unavoidable cases a pupil may
be shown the scroll, but only after a contract of marriage has been ar-
ranged with the master’s daughter.101

Here Osai speaks with considerable authority in relaying to Gonza

the protocol involved in transmission. She appears to be not merely a
caretaker but someone with real knowledge who is capable of manag-
ing the affairs of a tea master. Osai then offers Gonza her daughter
Okiku in marriage. Once this issue is resolved, Gonza, as the future
Women and Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan51

son-in-law of Ichinoshin, is able to be shown the scroll by Osai in a se-

cret nighttime meeting.
The authority that Osai has in such an important matter is also
reflected in the instructions of her father, once he has learned of Gonza
and Osai’s meeting:

Remember, if he performs the ceremony badly, it will be blamed on

Ichinoshin, and reflect unfortunately on his lordship. Let him learn all
of the secret traditions. But you must not breathe a word of this even
to the servants—not that they’d understand—it’s much too important
for our family.102

Clearly Osai is being entrusted with a matter that is extremely

i­mportant for the local daimyo and her whole family. Even though her
father has had some involvement in the preparations, most of the impor-
tant work is being left to her. Her competence in handling this matter is
shown when she hands over the scroll to Gonza and explains it to him:

This is the illustrated scroll. Here, you see the tables used at weddings,
manhood ceremonies, and departures for the front. This is a picture of
a tea ceremony behind a screen of state. And this is the True Table
­ceremony [shin no daisu temae], performed on the occasion of an
imperial visit. The three hanging scrolls, the three utensils, the placing
of the decorative tea caddies—everything is explained in these scrolls
of authorization. Once you’ve read them you won’t need any oral in-
struction. Please compose yourself and read carefully.103

Once again, Osai is taking on the role of tea master with confi-
dence and authority, even though she does not give any oral instruction
as her husband would have.
Above all else, the story of Osai shows that a tea master’s wife
could have considerable knowledge of tea. Though she might not have
been licensed to teach or perform all the procedures herself, Osai is fa-
miliar with tea culture and has knowledge of basic tea-making proce-
dures. Her daughter Okiku is also proficient in tea, and it appears that it
is Osai who has major, if not sole, responsibility for instructing both
Okiku and her younger brother in tea. Moreover, even though Osai is
not officially a teacher, she does, when it is appropriate and necessary,
take on the role of tea master, and she is accorded due respect by her
husband’s pupil. Osai’s knowledge of tea and ability to take over the
52 Chapter 1

role of tea master are an integral part of the story and must have had
some resonance with the intended audience for the play. As we find in
writings on tea practice for women, it is familiarity with rubrics that is
important for Osai. Without initiation to performance, she cannot be a
tea master or perform the specific procedure in her own right, yet her
familiarity with tea culture and even the secret teachings is enough to
give her some authority and status within tea culture.
Aside from examples of tea masters’ wives who we know
­instructed other women, such as Katagiri Sōtetsu (discussed in chap-
ter 3), we also know that it was possible in Tokugawa Japan for a wife
to take over the headship of the family when her husband was absent.
In a 1705 record of residents in the castle town of Kasama, out of
thirty-seven female household heads registered, in twenty-two cases
the woman was temporarily serving as family head while her samurai
husband was away on official duties.104 In other cases, women are
known to have taken over the running of the family business upon the
death of a husband. In a discussion of raku potters, Morgan Pitelka
notes that the term amayaki developed in reference “to the practice of
a wife in the Raku household taking Buddhist vows after her hus-
band’s death and making ceramics.”105 As he suggests, we can assume
that these women had prior knowledge of both pottery and tea culture
(as raku ceramics were primarily used in tea culture), but a woman
could not be “publicly acknowledged as a Raku potter” until she had
no husband to “ ‘front’ the occupation.”106 Joyce Lebra has also dis-
cussed the circumstances under which women could succeed to the
family headship of Osaka merchant houses during the early modern
period.107 She particularly focuses on the case of Tatsu’uma Kiyo, who,
after learning about sake brewing as a child, ran the family business
from 1842 to 1897 with great success, though never formally becom-
ing the family head.
These examples can be thought of in terms of the “wife-as-deputy”
phenomenon described by feminist scholar Gerda Lerner. In such situa-
tions, the wife-as-deputy has real influence in shaping events and power
over both the men and women below them, yet they derive this power
from “the male on whom they depend.”108 In the case of Osai in Gonza
the Lancer, she took over her husband’s role while he was away in Edo.
Her power was derived from both Ichinoshin and her father, who en-
trusted her with making decisions about the performance of the tea pro-
cedure. Osai exerted influence and power over the events and over
Gonza, forcing him to acquiesce to her wish that he marry her daughter,
Women and Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan53

for example. The extraordinary circumstances of needing to have a high-

level procedure performed and having the family’s reputation at stake
warranted such action.

The Noble Samurai Woman—A Literary Example

A different theatrical depiction of a woman in a samurai house-
hold who had knowledge of tea-making procedures is found in the ka-
buki character Nursemaid Masaoka (Menoto Masaoka), who appears
in the Date Sodo, or Sendai Hagi, lineage of plays.109 Masaoka, who
works in a daimyo household, participates in a household-based world
of tea practice, following a school of chanoyu suitable to her household’s
standing as elite warriors. The plays in this lineage—for example, The
Precious Incense and Autumn Flowers of Sendai (Meiboku Sendai Hagi,
1777)—feature a plot based on the 1660 attempted coup by retainers of
the Date military household in the Sendai region of Japan. The lead fe-
male role of Masaoka, nursemaid to the young lord of the Ashikaga
household, has become widely regarded as the “greatest and most diffi-
cult of all kabuki roles for a female-role specialist (onnagata)”—that is,
the male actors who specialized in female roles.110 The character is re-
garded as such because in performing her duty to protect the young
lord, Masaoka sacrifices the life of her son, stoically watching his mur-
der at the hands of the court lady Yashio.
The scene that concerns us here is titled “The Mansion” in Precious
Incense and Autumn Flowers and is part of many plays within the same
lineage. At the beginning of the scene Masaoka is preparing a meal of
rice for her son, Senmatsu, and the young lord, Ashikaga Tsurukiyo
(Tsuruchiyo). This is no ordinary meal, however, because Masaoka is
concerned about the possibility of poison and so forces the two hungry
boys to wait patiently as she prepares the rice in the manner of the pro-
cedures for making tea, according to the sixty-six steps of the Oribe
school of tea. She thus prepares each utensil by ritually cleansing it ac-
cording to the procedures for making tea—for example, wiping the bra-
zier with a feather before laying charcoal. The scene is visually striking,
as the audience feels Masaoka’s pain throughout her focused and intri-
cate preparation of the rice. Plate 1 is a woodblock print of this scene
from another play within the Date, or Sendai, lineage, by the artist
Utagawa Kunisada (1823–1880). It is one of many woodblock prints
depicting Masaoka and the temae scene.111 In this print we see utensils
arranged in front of Masaoka as they would be for a chanoyu temae. She
54 Chapter 1

is washing the rice between her hands while casting a watchful glance
over her son and the young lord.
The choice of the Oribe style of tea reflects the household’s status;
“the famous Senke schools are thought to be too ‘popular’ for a high-
ranking household.”112 Though there was differentiation among schools
of tea according to status, this differentiation did not apply to gender.
Women followed whatever style of tea was appropriate to their family
or household. In this case, a woman serving in a samurai household fol-
lowed a style of tea popular among those of samurai status.
The nobility and dignity with which Masaoka is often described
stems in part from her intricate performance of the steps involved in the
preparation of rice in the style of tea procedures while under extreme
stress, as well as her heroic sacrifice of her son. There is thus an associa-
tion made in this characterization between the attributes of a female at-
tendant in a samurai household—nobility, dignity, and loyalty—and
knowledge and performance of tea. Produced during the spring season,
this play was designed to appeal to court ladies and female attendants in
samurai households, who took their vacations at that time and would
go to the theatre.113 They expected to see characters and plots with
which they could empathize. The connection between Masaoka’s perfor-
mance of temae and her noble character would have had resonance with
female attendants in elite households. Indeed, her performance may well
have been something they wished to emulate.

Patterns of Practice
As our attention turns to writings on women’s tea practice in chap-
ter 2, the examples of Osai and Masaoka might be kept in mind, just as
women who saw these roles enacted before them in the theatre may
have thought of them when they read texts that discussed tea culture.
The knowledge of tea culture possessed by Osai and Masaoka demon-
strates that being a tea practitioner did not necessarily require active
participation in tea gatherings; having “knowledge” of tea-making pro-
cedures in chanoyu was enough to identify one as a tea practitioner.
Osai’s confident command of knowledge about tea culture, which she
deployed in protecting her family’s business and reputation, and Masa-
oka’s stoicism and gracefulness under extreme pressure embody some of
the attributes that women of samurai and commoner status aimed to
cultivate. Studying tea culture was one way to achieve this, as writings
on tea culture informed women.
Women and Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan55

Despite its institutionalization and the efforts of the large tea

schools to establish control over it, tea culture in the Edo period was not
static or monolithic. Economic growth, a thriving commercial publish-
ing market, and an aspirational population of wealthy commoners
­created a climate in which tea culture was able to flourish as a popular
activity. Previous scholarship has tended to focus on male participation
in the popularization of tea culture and characterized it negatively. This
chapter has demonstrated the conditions that also allowed women to be
active consumers of this popular pastime—namely, increasing rates of
education and literacy that gave them the tools to access information
about tea culture. Women did not just consume information about tea
culture, they were also participants at tea gatherings. Mining records of
tea gatherings for what they can tell us about women’s participation re-
veals a pattern of family- or household-based tea practice among elite
women, as was the case with the theatrical characters Osai and Masa-
oka. We can surmise that commoner women’s participation, which may
well have been more limited by economic circumstances, followed a
similar pattern.
 Chapter 2

A Handbook for Elite Women’s

Tea in the Eighteenth Century

I
n 1721 an Osaka-based tea master in the Sekishū school,
Ōguchi Shōō (1689–1764; also known as Gansui), wrote
a text that was entirely devoted to the subject of tea prac-
tice for women: A Woman’s Handbook (Toji no tamoto, 1721).1 A Wom-
an’s Handbook provides evidence of one tea master’s attempt to establish
a framework for elite women’s tea practice in the eighteenth century.
Shōō was not writing a handbook for any woman who may have wished
to study tea. Rather, his handbook was meant for women of aristocratic
and samurai status, as seen in textual references that indicate the status
of his intended readership. Significantly, the text addresses the potential
criticisms of those who were opposed to women’s tea practice. A Wom-
an’s Handbook reveals what one tea master thought were the reasons
women should study tea, and what women must be aware of in their tea
practice. Shōō envisions a subordinate role for women in the tea world
while at the same time he advocated that women have the same capacity
as men to participate in tea culture.
It is not entirely clear what Shōō’s motivations were for promoting
tea culture to women, but guiding his female audience along the right
path seems to have been at the forefront of his concerns. Shōō appears
to be particularly concerned that women who practice tea do so in the
right way and for the right reasons, following Confucian-inspired moral
and ethical principles. Although financial considerations cannot be dis-
counted, for attracting new students meant more income for teachers,
the diffuse nature of this school meant less financial reward for a tea
master like Shōō than would have been the case for a tea master at the
head of an iemoto school. It seems more likely that Shōō was motivated
by social concerns and had a genuine interest in having a wider cross-
section of society practice tea culture, in large part because he believed it
had moral benefits for the practitioner. Women were not the only target
of his efforts to expand the practitioner base for tea culture. He also

56
A Handbook for Elite Women’s Tea in the Eighteenth Century57

wrote texts addressing the elderly and the very young, showing how
they can adapt tea procedures for their specific needs. Regarding women,
the procedures for making tea outlined in A Woman’s Handbook are the
same as those for men. However, specific rules and movements are al-
tered because tea culture was adapted to fit established norms of femi-
nine behavior.
A Woman’s Handbook was more than just a guide on how to make,
serve, and drink tea in the formal manner of chanoyu. It was also a guide
to morals and proper behavior for samurai women, which stressed the
importance of modesty above all else. Repeatedly, Shōō indicates that
the general instructions alone are not enough for women; women must
be more conscious of not showing their knowledge, more cautious to
behave properly, and morally virtuous. In this framework, the purpose
of learning tea culture for women is to cultivate the mind and acquire
ethics. Shōō employs various strategies to this end, including moral edi-
fication through anecdotes and fables and the didactic use of poetry. He
draws on a range of philosophical and intellectual traditions, such as
Buddhism, particularly Zen; Confucianism and neo-Confucianism; and
Shinto, or nativism.

An Unexpected Request
In the tenth month of 1721 a visitor from Echigo (present-day Ni-
igata Prefecture) requested that the tea master Ōguchi Shōō write a
book on tea for women, because, he said, no book had been written on
the subject.2 In fact, A Woman’s Handbook is the only extant text of its
kind. Shōō studied tea in Osaka under his father-in-law, Ōnishi Kansai,
also a tea master in the Sekishū school.3 Ōnishi was of samurai origins,
as were most practitioners in this school, and is regarded by modern
scholars as having adhered to a warlord mode of tea favored by daimyo
and samurai.4 His son-in-law inherited this style of tea practice but is
considered to have been less of an adherent to the warlord mode of tea.5
Unlike other schools of tea, the Sekishū school was not centrally con-
trolled by an iemoto system; instead each individual tea master created
his own branch. Ōguchi Shōō thus established the Ōguchi school, a
branch of the Sekishū school.
Shōō seems to have had a particular interest in popularizing tea
culture by making information about rules and procedures more readily
accessible through writings.6 For example, in the text Truthful Conversa-
tions, Contrary to Public Opinions (Gyakuryū gendan, date unknown),
58 Chapter 2

Shōō demonstrates his desire to share information on tea with a wide

audience. The text covers topics such as the tea procedures for old,
middle-­aged, and young people—instructing old and young people (un-
der the age of fifteen) to use a red cloth and to place utensils such as the
cold water jar a little closer to themselves than normal (presumably be-
cause this would make them easier to reach).7 Much of the content takes
the form of hints or tips on particular aspects of tea culture, such as how
best to cut fresh flowers according to their variety—wisteria and moun-
tain hydrangeas should be cut with their stems immersed in boiling wa-
ter, for example—or how to arrange the charcoal during midsummer so
as to avoid making the room unduly warm.8 Unlike A Woman’s Hand-
book, in which moral teachings and advice on modesty and good behav-
ior are interspersed throughout the instructions on tea procedures,
Truthful Conversations is written in a matter-of-fact tone, providing only
advice on tea culture. When taken together, Shōō’s writings suggest that
one motivating factor for him was to disseminate knowledge of tea prac-
tice among a wide spectrum of society. In addition, Shōō’s ability to oper-
ate independently of any hierarchical school structure that dictated
ideology from a central authority figure may have contributed to his
willingness to write a book on tea culture for women. As he describes it,
he made his decision to write A Woman’s Handbook in consultation with
friends but ultimately took individual responsibility for it.
A Woman’s Handbook is composed of two volumes. As well as text,
it includes numerous illustrations, particularly diagrams of the layout of
the tearoom and the placement of utensils within it for specific temae.
Shōō tells us the “reason for the name [Toji no tamoto] is that ‘toji’ is a
popular name for women and ‘tamoto’ is a sleeve but also means some-
thing you have at hand.”9 Thus it is a “handbook” for women’s tea.10
Explaining his reasons for writing the book, Shōō indicates that he had
not thought about the subject of women’s tea practice in any detail prior
to receiving the request from his visitor. He describes how he mulled
things over before discussing the request with a close friend who was
also a tea practitioner. The friend was not convinced, responding, “For
tea practice, sensitivity (kansei—an ineffable feeling of being moved) is
needed; therefore women should not practice tea.”11 This reminds us
that even though women had been participating in tea for some time,
their participation was not universally accepted. Shōō was more open to
the idea than his friend. He suggested, “Even though there are no docu-
ments by our forbears constituting a written tradition, given that lac-
querware utensil stands are among the items women have at hand,
A Handbook for Elite Women’s Tea in the Eighteenth Century59

women must be making tea; otherwise what use are these utensil
stands?”12 Shōō is referring to the custom that women may have had
utensil stands among the items in their bridal trousseau or set up in their
room, particularly in the households of aristocrats, daimyo, or the sho-
gun. Such utensil stands are used in some procedures for making tea,
with the cold water jar and other items used for preparing tea placed on
the stand by the host prior to the guests’ arrival in the tearoom.
There appears to have been a particular association between women
and utensil stands, an association that Shōō draws on several times in A
Woman’s Handbook. For example, bridal trousseaus (konrei dōgu) and
miniature representations of trousseaus in the form of doll’s furniture
(hina dōgu), often included tea utensils arranged on a stand. Typically
the utensil stand and other utensils constituted a matching set all deco-
rated with the family crest.13 The utensils included tea bowls, parti­
cularly of the formal tenmoku variety (typically, tenmoku tea bowls have
a short foot and are placed on a stand); tea caddies; braziers; kettles;
waste water containers; and cold water jars. The stands were usually
lacquerware, and the other utensils were often made of bronze or, in
some cases, gold. A particularly beautiful example of tea utensils as part
of a bridal trousseau comes from the Hatsune collection, created for the
marriage in 1639 of Chiyohime (1637–1698), daughter of the third
Tokugawa shogun, Iemitsu (1604–1651; r. 1623–1651), to Tokugawa
Mitsumoto (1625–1700), second lord of Owari.14
In addition to raising the issue of utensil stands, Shōō took issue
with his friend’s point about the sensitivity required for practicing tea
and the implication that women were lacking in this regard. He counters
that “not only men have sensitivity” and gives examples of women of
the past who have written poetry, adding that “women’s sensitivity has
not changed, even in this day.”15 Giving the example of Sen no Rikyū’s
second wife, Soon, who had an interest in the oil lamps used in tearooms
and also carved tea scoops, Shōō says that such traditions of women
participating in tea culture have been passed on to his house.
After hearing these arguments that women do have sensitivity and
are already involved in tea culture through their possession of utensil
stands, the friend agrees with Shōō: “It is helpful for women to enter the
Way of Tea.”16 It was to assist women in following the Way correctly
that Shōō then began writing A Woman’s Handbook. He notes that it is a
text not for experts but for beginners.17 Shōō saw himself as continuing
in the path of previous tea masters, but not following them blindly. He
references famous tea masters of the past, such as Rikyū and Furuta
60 Chapter 2

Oribe, but also says that he discards information that he sees as incor-
rect or not useful.18 While forging his own path, he did not see himself
as someone who was revolutionizing tea culture by encouraging women
to practice. His reasoning was more pragmatic: if women were practic-
ing tea, they needed access to the right information so as to follow the
path correctly.
In the introduction to the book, then, we discover the circum-
stances of its production. There was a demand for such a text, clearly
indicating that a reasonable number of women were studying tea by this
time, even in the somewhat remote region of Echigo—if we take Shōō’s
account of his friend’s request at face value. There was, however, no
consensus on the appropriateness or necessity of women studying tea.
Rather, there seem to have been multiple views, as represented by the
three people involved in the book’s conception. The visitor who re-
quested that a book be written seems to have been completely accepting
of women’s tea practice. Indeed, this visitor wanted to encourage it, pre-
sumably among women of their acquaintance. Shōō seems not to have
given the subject much thought prior to receiving the request but, once
he considered the matter, came to a positive view. The friend was ini-
tially against women’s tea practice but was persuaded by the arguments
put forward by Shōō to change his mind. Of course we cannot discount
the possibility that the friend was a straw man. No doubt Shōō included
a summary of these events to explain why he wrote the book to any
readers who might hold views similar to those of his friend (or straw
man), in hopes of winning them over to a more positive view of wom-
en’s involvement in tea culture.
A Woman’s Handbook was not woodblock printed, and we can as-
sume that it was not widely read or intended to be so. Rather, manu-
scripts would have been circulated among interested parties with people
writing out their own copies. The text is written in a mixture of kanji
and the phonetic kana script, without phonetic glossing for the kanji. It
is difficult to know whether women read A Woman’s Handbook them-
selves or whether it was read by teachers, who then transmitted the in-
formation to their female students through oral instruction. In all
likelihood, both occurred. The lack of phonetic glossing for the kanji in
extant copies of A Woman’s Handbook suggests a high level of learning
among the women who read it. That said, there is also the possibility
that phonetic glossing could have been added when transcriptions were
made, thereby making it available to an even wider audience who were
kana literate. The audience of this text would also have included male
A Handbook for Elite Women’s Tea in the Eighteenth Century61

tea practitioners interested in fostering women’s tea practice. Whether

read by men or women, however, one thing is clear: A Woman’s Hand-
book is about women’s tea practice. That is, it is the content that marks
this text as being associated with women, beyond any question of who
actually read it.19 As with many books aimed at a female audience, A
Woman’s Handbook had a didactic mission.20 For example, Jamie Ne-
whard describes how The Tales of Ise (Ise monogatari) was packaged for
women in the Edo period with commentaries to explain the text. As in A
Woman’s Handbook, the authors of editions of Ise that were aimed at a
female audience assumed that “even a rank beginner can learn .  .  . if
given access to the necessary resources.”21
That elite women of aristocratic and samurai status were the focus
of Shōō’s instructions was natural, given that the Sekishū style of tea
was predominantly practiced by the elite. In a passage describing the ap-
propriate clothing for women to wear in the tearoom, Shōō clearly indi-
cates that he was writing for an elite audience: “A five-layered kimono
(itsutsu gasane) is appropriate for women of the imperial palace; for
samurai women a kaidori (a long outer robe worn on formal or ceremo-
nial occasions) is recommended; or for those samurai women of slightly
lower standing just an ordinary uchikake (a long outer robe similar to a
kaidori) is fine.”22 Of note is that even within this elite group status dis-
tinctions were made with reference to clothing, indicating that the issue
of status was ever present in the tearoom. Status and distinctions among
women were perhaps as important as gender distinctions between men
and women.
Although aimed at a narrow audience of elite practitioners belong-
ing to one tea school, A Woman’s Handbook could have reached a geo-
graphically wide audience. The Sekishū school spread throughout Japan,
in part helped by its structure of semiautonomous branches. At least
three handwritten copies of the text are known to exist today, held in
Kyoto, Ehime, and Tokyo.23 Whether A Woman’s Handbook made its
way to these different regions of Japan in the eighteenth century, how-
ever, is unclear. Presumably the text would have made its way from
Osaka to Echigo at that time, in the hands of Shōō’s visitor. It was also
circulated throughout the next century, with a copy making it into the
hands of the daimyo Ii Naosuke, probably while he was in Edo in the
1850s. Naosuke then circulated the text among the women of his house-
hold (discussed in greater depth in chapter 3). We can imagine that A
Woman’s Handbook was circulated in this way among a network of tea
masters and practitioners affiliated with the Sekishū school.
62 Chapter 2

A Handbook for Women’s Tea

In many respects, the information presented in A Woman’s Hand-
book differs little from that presented in other tea texts of the time, such
as Truthful Conversations. This indicates that the actual method of pre-
paring and serving tea as a host, and of receiving and drinking tea as a
guest, was the same for women and men. A large portion of the first
volume of A Woman’s Handbook is devoted to explaining the placement
of utensils in the room with accompanying diagrams. For instance, a
two-page spread of text and diagram illustrates the arrangement of the
tea container (chaire), tea bowl (chawan), and cold water jar (mizusashi)
in a four-and-a-half-mat room (figure 2).24 The first volume also con-
tains information for guests at a tea gathering. The second volume cov-
ers the role of the host, including how to serve the kaiseki meal, how to
lay the charcoal, and how to make thick tea and thin tea. The instruc-
tions on how to prepare thin tea include all the basic information one

Fig. 2. Placement of the cold water jar, tea caddy, and tea bowl in a four-and-a-half-
mat room. In A Woman’s Handbook. 1721. Imabari City Kono Art Museum.
A Handbook for Elite Women’s Tea in the Eighteenth Century63

would expect in a handbook for tea, such as where to place the utensils,
the order in which to wipe them, the method for scooping tea from the
tea caddy into the tea bowl, ladling hot water from the kettle into the
tea bowl, whisking the tea, and presenting it to the guests.
Instructions that state a different or somewhat altered procedure for
women evidence a concern for elegance and propriety, therein articulating
a specifically feminine mode of tea practice. For example, Shōō advises,
“When women are making tea, it is not good to stand up in the tearoom
continually and carry in utensils.”25 Rather, they should have the utensils
set up on a utensil stand.26 A diagram of the arrangement of utensils on a
stand appears in this section of the manuscript (figure 3). The importance
of utensil stands for women was that using one allowed the host to have
all of the utensils in place so that she did not have to stand up and bring in
each utensil one by one, a process that might not be elegant. The jar for
holding cold water, for example, could be a ceramic jar filled with one to

Fig. 3. Arrangement of tea-making utensils on a stand. In A Woman’s Handbook.

1721. Imabari City Kono Art Museum.
64 Chapter 2

two liters of water, covered by a lid. If the host was not using a utensil
stand, she would have to sit in the kneeling position by the doorway with
the cold water jar placed on the floor, then pick up the jar in both hands,
stand up from the kneeling position while holding the jar, enter the tea-
room and walk toward the tea preparation area, return to the kneeling
position, and finally set the cold water jar down in its correct position ad-
jacent to the brazier. When a utensil stand was used, the cold water jar
could be placed on the base of the stand ahead of the guests entering the
tearoom, thereby avoiding the above steps of lifting, carrying, and setting
down the jar in front of the guests. In another example, the lip of a bowl
of thick tea had to be wiped clean before it was passed to another guest to
drink from, but Shōō states, “A woman should not wipe the lip of the
bowl with her hand[;] it is best to take out paper from your pocket and
wipe it with that.”27 In both examples it is a concern for women to appear
elegant that governs the particular instructions, and only minor adjust-
ments to regular procedures are needed to accomplish that.
The instructions on wiping the lip of the bowl, as well those for eat-
ing, were related to general rules of etiquette at the time, rather than be-
ing specific to tea culture. In this way, the text functioned as a general
guide to proper conduct for women, as well as a handbook on tea. The
inclusion of such instructions on eating and manners suggest that learn-
ing tea was part of a broader civilizing process. As Norbert Elias has
shown, manners and etiquette relating to eating were a particularly im-
portant part of what he called the “civilizing process” in medieval and
early modern Europe, for both the military class of knights and, gradu-
ally, the lower classes.28 Similarly, in the Edo period samurai were “civi-
lized” according to the standards of the aristocracy (kuge), in a process
Toshio Yokoyama has called “kugefication.”29 These courtly modes of
behavior and manners were then disseminated to commoners in the latter
part of the period. Thus, A Woman’s Handbook included explanations of
manners and etiquette for eating the kaiseki meal that served to dissemi-
nate the elite standards of the day to samurai women, particularly those
at the lower end of this status group and perhaps those living in more
remote areas (such as Echigo) who were not privy to the latest fashions at
the imperial court or in Edo. For example, A Woman’s Handbook states:

In the old days, it was good to take hot water and clean the dish com-
pletely, not leaving anything remaining, when you had finished eating
what had been served. Having said this, even if there is something left
it is acceptable. Rather than eating everything reluctantly, it is best
A Handbook for Elite Women’s Tea in the Eighteenth Century65

not to pick it up with your chopsticks from the start. If you do not
finish eating something, place the lid on the dish without anyone see-
ing; this is considerate and looks gracious. Until the time of Furuta
Oribe, any remains were cleaned with hot water in this way. But
[these days] you should not pour hot water into a dish that you have
eaten from completely[;] this is particularly something women should
refrain from doing.30

“Table manners” had changed over time, and the current standards
of politeness and refinement had to be taught to samurai women. Tea
was a vehicle for teaching such elite manners.
In addition to the focus on elegance and propriety, modesty was a
major theme in A Woman’s Handbook. In an introductory discussion
about famous women of the past, such as Murasaki Shikibu (author of
The Tale of Genji), Shōō recounts the story of how Murasaki learned
classical Chinese by overhearing her older brother’s lessons, but still pre-
tended in public that she could not read Chinese. The lesson was that
even if a woman had knowledge and talent, she should not show it off.
Shōō indicates that, in his opinion, the women of his day did unfortu-
nately show off. In regard to women’s tea practice, he says, “It is desir-
able for women’s tea to seem as though it is lacking something; the
impression should not be perfect.”31 Shōō then goes on to say, “From
looking at you[,] people can see if you know tea or not.”32 The impor-
tance of learning etiquette and deportment through tea was that it influ-
enced how people viewed women.
Shōō gave his readers several examples of upstanding women to
follow, one of whom was Keikyō. An old man happened to go to her
house when her husband was not home. Seeing that the man was
very thirsty, Keikyō laid charcoal and served him tea. The old man
thought she was a wonderful woman.33 The lesson for readers to
learn from this story, and from the other similar examples given, is
that a woman should know how to do tea but be modest about it.
She should not go out into the world showing off her knowledge, but
if the occasion arose when it would be appropriate to do tea, she
should be prepared to do so.
We get a sense of the quiet demeanor that was expected of women
when Shōō recounts the sayings “Hens do not cry in the morning, so if
one does, then bad things will happen to your house” and “If a woman
talks too much, then bad things will happen to your house.”34 A
Lady Konoe, the reader is told, once said, “She who does not use many
66 Chapter 2

words and is amiable is the best woman.”35 Shōō stresses that women
must be modest not only in their behavior but also in their dress. “Even
young women,” he says, “should not wear fancy robes.”36
Shōō cautions the inexperienced that although they must prepare
themselves properly before attending a tea gathering, when it comes to
the actual event they “should leave things to those who are experi-
enced,” and “this, women must learn.”37 Despite his claims in the con-
clusion that aside from physical difference men and women are the
same, Shōō envisions a subordinate role for women within the world
of tea—he implies that the “experts” are men. Indeed, the notion that
women should appear to be ignorant is repeated throughout A Wom-
an’s Handbook. For example, when discussing the placement of the
kettle, Shōō says that someone who is learning should have an experi-
enced person check it and fix the positioning if it is unbalanced. “Be-
ginners should act as though they know nothing if the kettle is
unbalanced. All the more so, women should appear to know noth-
ing.”38 Thus, among male practitioners there was a division between
those who were experienced and beginners, while for women no such
division existed. Women were always to appear ignorant, as though
they were beginners. Similarly, in the context of putting out the uten-
sils for display, “women should not show their intentions.”39 That is to
say, women should not act with great purpose or appear confident,
even if they know what they are doing. Women’s presence in the tea-
room could clearly cause some disquiet among male practitioners. By
encouraging women to be modest, Shōō was helping them alleviate
such concerns.
In A Woman’s Handbook, Shōō deals with various issues that arise
when women participate in tea culture. Some are dealt with quite easily,
as in the examples discussed above of how women can adapt procedures
so as to appear elegant or how women can display humility. Others are
a little more complex. On the subject of how the order of seating among
guests is determined, Shōō explains that generally the most experienced
people take the positions of first and last guest, with beginners seated in
between so that they can either follow the lead of the first guest or leave
things to the last guest. When women are guests, the order in which to
seat them should be “determined by their husband’s court rank,” for
“women have no court rank.”40 This rule, which Shōō says is based on
the Book of Rites (Liji, a classic work of the Chinese Confucian cannon),
dictates, “If the man is of high position, or if he is lowly, then so too will
she be, and this goes for the order of seating too.”41 Another consider-
A Handbook for Elite Women’s Tea in the Eighteenth Century67

ation is the husband’s age: “If the man is of advanced age then the wife
should be seated higher, and the wife of a younger man seated lower.”42
In the case of an unmarried woman, her own age is considered, with
older women being seated higher. Or her father’s position could be con-
sidered, so that regardless of age it is possible to determine the seating
positions of unmarried women.
Gender and status are also considerations for the host when greet-
ing guests. As a general rule, the host should greet the guests in the gar-
den and then open the side gate a little. However, Shōō notes that “it is
generally not good for women to go out and greet guests”; rather, “they
should send a servant to welcome them.”43 Yet, the proper procedure for
greeting a guest “also depends on the social position of the host and
guest.”44 That is to say, there may be occasions when either the status of
the guests or that of the female host makes it appropriate for her to
greet the guests herself.
Another issue that requires attention is how to deal with the
physical proximity of men and women in a tearoom. This issue is first
addressed in relation to the kaiseki meal: “When passing a side dish to
a woman, if the host is male then he does not have to hand it to her
directly. If the guest is male and the host female, then it is needless for
her to pass it to him by hand.”45 The same holds for passing the tea
bowl among guests: “A woman must not pass a tea bowl to a man by
hand; it should also be placed down [on the tatami].”46 This injunction
against male-female intimacy is developed further: “Women, both
young and old, cannot invite a man on his own [to a tea gathering].
Men also cannot invite a woman on her own.”47 Following these
guidelines, Shōō says, will avoid arousing people’s suspicions. To em-
phasize this point, Shōō quotes the Chinese sayings “Do not adjust
your shoes in a melon field and do not tidy your hat under the plum
trees” (so as to avoid suspicion that you are stealing) and “Women go-
ing out at night should carry a torchlight” (so that they can be seen).48
General lessons on morality and good behavior are included alongside
specific rules for tea, which in this case are aimed at avoiding poten-
tially inappropriate situations.
The connection between learning tea and proper conduct is made
explicit by Shōō in a passage that begins with two poems from classical
imperial poetry anthologies. These poems were adapted by later genera-
tions to describe the concept of rustic simplicity (wabi), the core aes-
thetic and philosophical principle of early modern tea culture. The first,
by Fujiwara no Teika (1162–1241), was selected by the tea master Tak-
68 Chapter 2

eno Jōō as representative of this aesthetic ideal, with the understanding

that the poem could help one gain understanding of tea culture.

Miwataseba Looking far, I see

Hana mo momiji mo no sign of cherry blossoms
Nakarikeri or crimson leaves.
Ura no tomoya no A reed-thatched hut on a bay
Aki no yūgure. on an evening in autumn.49

The second poem, by Fujiwara no Ietaka (1158–1237), was

­selected by the tea master Sen no Rikyū:

Hana o nomi To those who await

Matsuran hito ni only flowers as their sign,
Yamazato no I would show another spring
Yukima no kusa mo grass pushing up through the snow
Haru o misebaya. in a mountain village.50

For Shōō too, these poems encapsulate the essence of tea culture
and the wabi aesthetic; his discussion of the poems in respect to aes-
thetic discourses is in this sense entirely conventional. He makes a new
connection, though, in arguing that these poems act as a guide for cor-
rect behavior:

Women, in particular, will behave with modesty if they take these po-
ems to heart: from their hair to their clothes and manner of speaking.
Those who put on a showy front will capture men’s hearts and have
the love of others for the time being, but will eventually lose that love
and be abandoned. Women who put their hearts into tea even a little
will not be showy [but] will possess natural dignity. This is ideal. Even
if it is a small matter, you will not be doubted by others and thought
badly of. Even if you are not closely connected to tea,51 you will suc-
ceed in the Way of Tea.52

Shōō adapts an established aesthetic discourse around these two

poems to create a model of feminine behavior, similar to the way in
which a gendered moral discourse emerged around texts such as Genji
and Ise in the later part of the early modern period, once a substantial
number of women were reading them.53 Understated or modest behav-
ior was expected for men as well as women, not just in tea culture but
A Handbook for Elite Women’s Tea in the Eighteenth Century69

across a range of arts, such as poetry. What is different in Shōō’s writing

is that he sees practicing tea in accordance with the spirit of these poems
as a corrective to women’s natural inclinations. In suggesting that
women need to avoid being showy and thought badly of, one is re-
minded of sections of Essays in Idleness (Tsurezuregusa, ca. 1330) in
which the author discusses women’s flawed nature. For example:

The fact is that women are by nature perverse—self-centered in the

extreme, intensely greedy, and with no concept of reason. Their fickle
hearts are quick to follow delusion; and their words flow too easily
for one moment, only to cease the next, when one asks for a response
to even the most innocent question. And don’t think this silence
shows reserve, either, for they may also come forth with the most
astonishing things without even being asked. . . . Only when you let
her wiles become your master does a woman seem attractive and
worthy of attention.54

Indeed, what Shōō advocated was quite a practical way for women
to approach tea. He was addressing the question, “How can you prac-
tice tea and be accepted [as a woman]?” The answer was to overcome
her innate nature as a woman. Approaching her tea practice through
the moral framework advocated in A Woman’s Handbook helped a
woman to do this. Shōō was not alone in his assertion that acquiring
knowledge of tea culture could lead to the moral improvement of
women. The late seventeenth-century text Women’s Treasury (Onna
chōhōki, 1693) claimed that studying tea, along with poetry, calligra-
phy, and classic works of literature such as Genji would help compen-
sate for women’s natural inclination to enjoy vices such as talking too
much and attending the theatre.55
In the conclusion to A Woman’s Handbook, Shōō returns to the
theme of women’s ability to follow the Way of Tea, discussed in his
­introduction, and draws from several philosophical traditions to make
his case. Shōō states, for instance, “If you internalize this text by having
the two volumes at hand you will reach the depths and innermost di-
mensions of the Way of Tea”; and “Women have the same sincere intent
as men.”56 Referencing several Buddhist teachings such as the Vimalakīrti
Sūtra (Yuimagyō, a sutra on nondualism that also emphasizes the equal
role of women in Buddhism), Shōō states that “there is no man and no
woman.”57 That is to say, all are born in the same body, and therefore
women have the same capacity or sincere intent (kokorozashi) to learn
70 Chapter 2

tea as do men. Moving on to how the path should be followed, Shōō

turns his attention to poetry and Zen:

It is written in the precepts of the Sekishū school that the Way of Tea
and Way of Poetry are found together in the Way of Buddhism [that is
to say, they should be comprehended together]. . . . The Way of Poetry
is a Way of Gods in our country and found within this Way is scholar-
ship on poetry. Through understanding waka poetry, Rikyū and Jōō
were able to elevate tea from something vulgar. . . . In Shuko’s writings,
he said in your desire to become a connoisseur, you should use exactly
the same methods of the Zen school [that is, concentrate all your en-
ergy and maintain absolute discipline]. . . . At the end of his life Jōō
said, “Tea comes from Zen, there are secret teachings, in tea it is the
same thing”; that is, there are secret teachings. [Thus] tea is a path
without written words.58

This is an explicit attempt to link tea to Zen practices—not the

doctrines of Zen but the style of practice, in particular the way under-
standing is transmitted orally rather than in writing.
At the same time as connecting tea culture with Zen Buddhist
practice, Shōō’s writing also features a Confucian vocabulary. For ex-
ample, he discusses the idea that words are a vessel (uku) or vehicle that
can help one in one’s way along the path, but words alone are not
enough to get one to the end, to true understanding. Thus, although
“words are a great treasure to make progress in the Way,” they should
not be relied on too heavily. Shōō acknowledges that Mencius said it
best: “It is better not to have books at all than to believe everything
written in books.”59 Nonetheless, Shōō indicates that books, such as his
own writings, are necessary for beginners. He also urges his readers to
go deeper into the study of tea beyond simply following the specific in-
structions for various tea-making procedures that he has set down for
them. This contrasts strikingly with later popular writings for women
that emphasized that women needed to know only the basics of tea cul-
ture, which they could learn from written texts alone. Shōō was inter-
ested in fostering women’s tea practice for the purpose of moral and
spiritual cultivation, more than for learning etiquette and comport-
ment; hence his desire for his female readership to use his words merely
as a starting point.
Turning one last time to the issue of whether women should
even be participating in tea culture at all, Shōō states that “in Chi-
A Handbook for Elite Women’s Tea in the Eighteenth Century71

nese books there are also women doing tea because there is a poem
that says women should not serve tea to monks”;60 therefore, women
must have been serving tea to others. The implied meaning of the
poem is that for a woman to serve tea to a monk would be to sully
him and that the woman too might be under suspicion, so she should
be discreet in her actions. In referring to the poem, Shōō further im-
plies that a woman who does not understand that such problems
­exist for women is inviting criticism. Thus, while he certainly argues
that women faced no impediment in following the path of tea culture
with the same sincere intent as men, and that doing so could have
benefits for their moral, ethical, and spiritual well-being, Shōō is well
aware that he was operating in an environment where such ideas
could get him into trouble. He cautions:

If women are not prepared against negative reactions [from people]

and enjoy tea as a kind of amusement, this will invite the ridicule of
people. It is a very heavy sin if someone is critical of the Way [and, it is
implied, the woman who invites this criticism is responsible]. I ask you
three times, please be very, very careful in the way you practice, be-
cause I am leaving myself open to criticism, for I am the person who is
writing this down, encouraging women to enjoy tea in the true way.61

Of course, the idea that the behavior of a careless student will

reflect badly on the teacher is also something that would have been
said to male students. Shōō makes it clear, however, that there was an
extra layer of difficulty for women and their teachers that they all
had to accept.
A Woman’s Handbook may be seen as a way in which one tea mas-
ter was attempting to come to terms with the implications of women’s
tea practice. If women were already studying tea, then it was necessary
to develop a framework that supported this, while making sure women
were guided along the right path; hence the focus on morality and
­modesty. Even as Shōō advocated women’s tea practice, his keenness to
ensure that women who studied tea maintained the highest moral stan-
dards suggests a lingering sense of unease about the task that had been
requested of him. It would appear, then, that there was not complete
acceptance of women’s tea practice in the early eighteenth century, even
though women had been practicing tea for some time. The view held by
his friend that “women should not do tea” was perhaps in the back of
Shōō’s mind as he wrote a text that said they should.
72 Chapter 2

Creating a Model of Genteel Femininity

By focusing on moral guidance and modesty in A Woman’s Hand-
book, Ōguchi Shōō developed a distinctively feminine framework for
tea practice. Significantly, his text presents a strong and clear argument
in favor of women’s tea practice by stating that women have the same
capacity as men for following the Way and by providing guidelines for
women to participate in tea gatherings as both hosts and guests. As Shōō
himself said, there were no writings on tea practice for women at the
time he wrote A Woman’s Handbook. Yet, it is clear that he was not es-
tablishing a tradition of women practicing tea but, rather, establishing a
tradition of writing about their practice. Records of tea gatherings show
that aristocratic and high-ranking samurai women were participating in
tea throughout the seventeenth century. A Woman’s Handbook was
clearly directed at such women. By the early eighteenth century, tea was
an established social and cultural activity among elite women, despite
the reservations still held by some people. A Woman’s Handbook was a
reflection of this. It may also have led to the further spread of women’s
tea by sanctioning it, as it were, although circulation of the text proba-
bly remained limited to those in the Sekishū school.
Alongside published texts aimed at a wide audience, privately pro-
duced and circulated manuscripts like A Woman’s Handbook helped
popularize tea among an even larger audience. While commercial tea
texts were influential in the spread of tea among a new status group,
commoner men, A Woman’s Handbook contributed to the spread of tea
among a new group within the already dominant status group in the tea
world: women of aristocratic and samurai status. It was not until later
in the eighteenth century that women of the lower, commoner status
group would also become the subject and audience of writings on tea
practice. The information presented to women was not confined merely
to the basics of making, serving, and drinking tea. Information about tea
culture was included in such writings as part of a process in which the
manners, behavior, and morals of a small elite became the standard for
others to aspire and adhere to; a model of genteel femininity was being
created and disseminated. For A Woman’s Handbook it was women of
samurai status who were the target audience of this civilizing mission.
Later, commoner women became the focus of this civilizing process—as
had commoner men before them.
Yet, while commoner women would also become an audience for
writings on tea culture and part of this civilizing process, those popular
writings would have key differences from A Woman’s Handbook. In the
A Handbook for Elite Women’s Tea in the Eighteenth Century73

Handbook, women are advised on how to move gracefully within the

tearoom, but this was not the main reason given for why they should
study tea. Rather, the study of tea was, in Shōō’s rendering, part of a
wider moral and ethical code for elite women to follow. It was the mind,
more than the body, that was his focus. Moving into the nineteenth cen-
tury and Ii Naosuke’s transcription of A Woman’s Handbook, we see this
same focus on the mind, but we also see the connection between women
participating in tea culture and women being in service at elite house-
holds. We might see this connection as a link between the elite and pop-
ular writings on women’s tea practice. One of the reasons commoner
women were told they should study tea was that it could help them gain
a position in service, and one of the principle ways that commoner
women acquired genteel femininity through the civilizing process was
being in service.
 Chapter 3

A Handbook for Women’s Tea

in the Nineteenth Century

R
ecords of tea gatherings show that female attendants
occasionally accompanied their mistresses at these
­
events (discussed in chapter 1). At tea gatherings, women
usually sat alongside men, both those from the same household and out-
siders. These gatherings were thus a space in which female attendants
could interact socially with others in a household-based network of tea
practice. High-ranking wives who were tea practitioners themselves may
have expected their female attendants also to be proficient at the art.
Perhaps prospective employees may have had to demonstrate their abil-
ity to do tea at their interview. Lessons may have been given to atten-
dants within the household from a tea master or an experienced female
practitioner. On sugoroku board games, depictions of attendants engag-
ing in tea practice suggest that private study of tea could be part of the
lives of female attendants in elite households. Who were the women
who went into service at elite households, and what did being in service
entail? This chapter addresses these questions and examines the motiva-
tions for women to enter into service, before moving on to discuss the
connection between tea culture and service specifically.
The chapter concludes with a case study of tea practice among
women of the Ii household in the nineteenth century. The handbook for
women’s tea penned by Oguchi Shōō in the eighteenth century was pri-
vately circulated among like-minded samurai tea practitioners in manu-
script form. In the nineteenth century, the daimyo and tea master Ii
Naosuke transcribed and amended his own copy of A Woman’s Hand-
book, which he circulated among the women of his household, including
family members and female attendants. The transmission of the text
points to the enduring significance of the framework for women’s tea
practice initially articulated by Shōō. Taking the nineteenth-century
transcription of A Woman’s Handbook as a starting point, this chapter
considers the relationship between the written word and practice in this

74
A Handbook for Women’s Tea in the Nineteenth Century75

daimyo household where both women of the family and serving women
participated in a household-based network of tea practice.

Women in Service
After the Tokugawa shogunate was established in 1603, a number
of policies were implemented that had far-reaching consequences for the
sociocultural landscape of Japan over the next two and a half centuries.
One such policy was the alternate attendance system (sankin kōtai),
which mandated that all daimyo maintain a residence in their castle
town and a residence in the shogunal seat of power, Edo (modern-day
Tokyo).1 They were to reside in Edo every other year, while their wives
and children remained in Edo permanently. It was essentially a form of
political hostage-taking in order to lessen the likelihood of rebellion, as
well as imposing a significant financial burden on daimyo required to
maintain multiple residences and bear the cost of travel between them.
At both their Edo mansions (some wealthy daimyo even had multiple
mansions in Edo) and their domain castles, daimyo employed and
housed a large staff of retainers and servants. Female attendants of vari-
ous ranks, collectively known as jochū, occupied an interior space within
the castle or mansion—the inner quarters (oku).
The largest of these inner quarters was the Great Interior (Ōoku)
of the Main Enceinte of Edo castle.2 According to a record from the
1850s, some one thousand women resided in the inner quarters of Edo
castle during the time of the thirteenth shogun, Tokugawa Iesada
(1824–1858).3 Of these, approximately 185 would have been atten-
dants in the service of the shogun.4 In addition, there were women
who served the shogun’s wife and mother, as well as the servants these
attendants personally employed using their own income. Records from
Iesada’s household indicate that female attendants received income in
various forms, such as money, coal, firewood, and oil. Their income
also included rice, which was paid in two ways: kirimai, calculated ac-
cording to units of rice; and fuchi, calculated according to units of
people (i.e., the ration of rice deemed necessary to support one per-
son).5 Within the category of female attendants was a range of posi-
tions, each carrying its own duties and responsibilities, from the top
position of senior matron down to chambermaids. Between them were
some eighteen other positions.6 The amount of remuneration received
by the women depended on their position within this hierarchy. Senior
matrons, of whom there were three under Iesada, each received fifty
76 Chapter 3

koku of rice, sixty ryō of gold, and ten fuchi of rice per annum.7 At the
bottom of the ladder, chambermaids, of whom there were thirty-five,
received only four koku of rice, two ryō of gold, and one fuchi of rice.8
The income of the women at the lower end was comparable to that of
low-ranking samurai men in the position of footmen or a page/secre-
tary, who received around two ryō a year.9
The pattern at other noble and samurai households was more or
less the same as in the shogun’s inner quarters: the immediate family
members were served by samurai women, who in turn had lower-­
ranking samurai and commoner women in their direct service.10 For
female attendants, the benefits of being in service included learning
how to run a large household, learning elite manners and tastes, and
gaining practice in the skills and accomplishments of elite women. This
was in addition to receiving financial remuneration, lodging, and meals.
Serving in an elite household was a way of gaining “life experience”
before marriage for young women.11 The chance to experience life in
the city was considered particularly attractive. A bakufu official, Uezaki
Kuhachirō (dates unknown), wrote in 1787: “So far as the girls are
concerned, their parents send them out to domestic service in Edo, in
order to satisfy their wish to see Edo and life there. . . . All vie with one
another in dispatching their daughters to Edo.”12 Exact numbers are
not available, though estimates are that up to 10 percent of the popula-
tion in Edo were servants of samurai throughout the Edo period. The
three Edo mansions of the Kaga daimyo, for example, employed a staff
of around one thousand servants.13 These figures suggest that the num-
bers of women who went into service in elite households were not in-
significant. It has even been suggested that the large number of young
women employed as attendants was partly responsible for the rising
age of women at marriage in the latter part of the Edo period.14 As in-
dicated by Uezaki’s comment, many of these women migrated to the
city or to castle towns to find a position in service. The age of female
attendants varied greatly, depending on the position as well as the girls’
personal circumstances. There are examples from literature and other
sources of girls younger than ten being in service, as well as women in
their twenties and thirties.15 Girls from both samurai and commoner
families took up employment as attendants, with most of them under-
taking their first post during their teens. Sekiguchi Tōemon (1764–
1849), a rural entrepreneur, for example, sent all three of his daughters
to be employed at daimyo mansions, and one even ended up serving in
the shogun’s quarters.16
A Handbook for Women’s Tea in the Nineteenth Century77

Historian Ujiie Mikito argues that financial reasons, in particular,

were behind the trend of going into service, a trend he says started
among girls from poorer families.17 It is difficult to say precisely what
the income would have been for female attendants in elite households,
aside from those in the shogun’s inner quarters described above. None-
theless, an estimate can be made on the basis of available data. First, it
would appear that the wages of men and women were not vastly differ-
ent. Confucian scholar Ogyū Sorai (1666–1728),18 writing in the 1720s,
stated, “Some forty or fifty years ago the wage of a wakatō retainer was
about 2 ryō, a chūgen footman 1 ryō, a seamstress 1 ryō, and a servant
girl 1 or 2 bu. But now a wakatō retainer gets more than 3 or 4 ryō, a
chūgen footman gets 2 ryō plus 2 or 3 bu or 3 ryō, a seamstress 3 to 4
ryō, and a servant girl about 2 ryō.”19 That is, in the eighteenth century
a seamstress earned a wage comparable to that of a retainer, and wages
of a servant girl and a footman were also comparable. Second, there was
a wide range of income levels among female attendants. As discussed
above, female attendants in the shogun’s inner quarters in the 1850s
could receive as much as fifty koku of rice per annum or as little as four
koku, depending on their position. By comparison, Gary Leupp cites the
example of chambermaids in the Numano household, a commoner fam-
ily in Wakayama, in the same period, who received the equivalent of 1.3
koku of rice in annual wages.20 Estimates of a woman’s minimum yearly
expenses at the time are between 1.1 and 1.4 koku, while the estimate
for men is 1.8 koku.21 We can place the income of female attendants in
elite households as somewhere between the income of Iesada’s atten-
dants and the Numano chambermaids. Certainly, they would have been
receiving a “comfortable” income above the minimum living wage of
1.4 koku. Yet, as Anne Walthall’s discussion of the letters of one com-
moner girl serving in a daimyo mansion in Edo reveal, the expenses as-
sociated with being in service were not always met by her income. She
often requested her parents to send money and clothing; “I’m really
short of pocket money” was a constant refrain.22 In her case, she was
also able to supplement her income by selling goods, such as cloth, to
the women she worked with.23
The potential for earning income and gaining life experience made
going into service an attractive option for young women. In guides such
as A Pocket Mirror of Female Attendants in Noble Households (Okujochū
sode kagami, 1858), readers could study the attire and hairstyles of fe-
male attendants. This guide also listed three reasons why young women
should want to go into service in an elite household. First, young girls
78 Chapter 3

from poor families could gain an education. Second, girls from families
who were not poor but had many children could feed themselves until
marriage (and thereby relieve the burden on their parents). Third, they
would learn about the world and experience hardship, which would
help them manage a household when they got married. The same guide
also listed two reasons why older women should want to go into service:
it was a way for married women with a poor husband to support them-
selves and their husband; and it was a way for older women to avoid
becoming a burden to their children.24
Ujiie sees these various financial, educational, and social reasons
for going into service as an indication of the desire of commoner women
to improve their situation in life and, more broadly, of the spread of
service as a social trend. He argues that we should therefore not view
samurai and commoner society and culture as vastly different by the lat-
ter part of the Edo period. Rather, the examples of commoner girls
learning “refined” arts and serving in elite households evidence interac-
tion between status groups and a merging of elite and popular culture.25
This interaction was occasionally the focus of kabuki plays, themselves
an area where status groups merged and clashed.26 The play Mirror
Mountain: A Woman’s Treasury of Loyalty (Kagamiyama kokyō no
­nishiki-e, 1782), for example, centers on the tensions between a female
samurai attendant at a daimyo mansion and another attendant who is a
commoner’s daughter and does not have the same training in martial
arts as the women raised in samurai households.27 Despite such occa-
sional conflicts, the positive interplay between elite and popular culture
that occurred as a result of the growing number of people going into
service has led Leupp, following the lead of European historians, to de-
scribe attendants as belonging to a “bridging class”28—that is, “in their
employment careers, they bridged town and village, and . . . commoner
and samurai classes.”29 The daughters of Sekiguchi Tōemon, mentioned
above, provide a clear example of women bridging status and rural-­
urban divides through their service careers.
Several intellectuals of the period, such as Ogyū Sorai and Ishida
Baigan (1685–1744), deplored this social phenomenon.30 In particular,
Sorai advocated a return to the older system of hereditary employment,
which had largely been replaced by hiring servants on short-term con-
tracts.31 What Sorai objected to above all were the migration of servants
between rural and urban areas and the lack of loyalty shown by hired as
opposed to hereditary servants. Furthermore, he feared that samurai
values were being replaced with the “thinking and attitudes of the
A Handbook for Women’s Tea in the Nineteenth Century79

townspeople,” because people raised outside a samurai house were hav-

ing increasing contact with those of samurai status. Thus, Sorai sug-
gested, “the disappearance of hereditary servants and the resultant
ubiquity of hired servants presage the decline of the military way, a trend
exceedingly harmful to the military class.”32 A return to the old system
did not occur, and the “bridging class” of wealthy commoners and lower
samurai who served in elite households continued to grow throughout
the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The flow of culture was not as
one-sided as Sorai suggested, though, with the influence of elite culture
on commoners being equally strong.
Being in service allowed women to create a livelihood for them-
selves, as well as provide support for their families. At the same time,
they increased their marriageability by gaining new skills—in household
management, for example. Serving in an elite household has thus been
described as akin to attending a finishing school or a women’s junior
college in contemporary Japan.33 Doubtless, financial considerations
were important, but improving girls’ manners was perhaps also in the
back of many parents’ minds when they sent their daughters to find em-
ployment. This was true for one of the commoner mothers in the comic
fiction book (kokkeibon) Floating-World Bathhouse (Ukiyoburo, 1809),
by Shikitei Sanba (1776–1822). The mother says, “Service is a real bless-
ing. They don’t call it discipline. But [the experience] improves their
manners. At home no matter how often you scold them, you don’t really
correct their bad habits, but when you get them into a [samurai] man-
sion, they begin to change completely.”34 Indeed, while the financial ben-
efits, even if limited to having one less mouth to feed, were attractive to
poor families, it appears that the other benefits and social prestige of
having a daughter in service were so great that some well-to-do families
were paying for the privilege.35

Beyond the Years Spent in Service

The position of women within the status system of the Edo period
was less clearly defined than for men. Women were not bound by the
status system in the same way as men because they were not assigned
status in their own right. Rather, status was assigned to units of organi-
zation such as households, usually headed by men.36 It was therefore
easier for women to move around within the system. Marriage, in par-
ticular, provided women with an opportunity for upward social mobil-
ity—in the true sense of moving from one status group to another—which
80 Chapter 3

was not so readily available to men (although the practice of adopting

sons-in-law did provide men with this opportunity). Therefore, parents
were willing to invest in their daughters’ education in the hope that it
might pay dividends in the form of a good marriage. Though the status
of a woman’s natal household was not directly affected by her upward
rise in status through marriage, the household received indirect benefits,
such as access to goods and services and acquiring prestige within the
local community.37
Successful matches of women after service in elite households were
not unknown. Yoshino Michi (1808–1883), for example, was the daugh-
ter of a rural peasant family who, “during her years as a maid-in-­
waiting,” first at the Tayasu mansion, then at the Hitotsubashi mansion,
“crafted herself into an altogether appropriate bride for a samurai.”38
Her husband, Tamura Motonaga, was a low-ranking samurai doctor. It
appears that Michi’s skills at household management and feminine mod-
esty were what made her an attractive second wife in the eyes of the
Tamura family.39 Tadano Makuzu (1763–1825), an author and the
daughter of a physician scholar (nonsamurai), served in two daimyo
residences over a ten-year period, including the Hikone mansion of the
Ii family (discussed below). This was part of her “task of bringing social
capital to the household.”40 She then fulfilled this task through two mar-
riages to samurai men.41
A less likely possibility, though one that surely captured people’s
imaginations, was marriage “into the purple”—that is, the highest ech-
elons of elite society. Susanne Formanek cites the example of Keishōin
(1627–1705), “the daughter of a Kyoto-based greengrocer who, via her
getting appointed to the service of a lord who had access to the shogu-
nal residence, managed to enter service in the shogun’s palace itself,
became the lesser wife of the third shogun Iemitsu and upon her son
Tsunayoshi being appointed to the fifth shogun, became one of the most
influential female figures in the realm.”42 That such rags-to-riches sto-
ries were a rare occurrence probably did little to limit their appeal;
dreams of becoming the next Keishōin may well have filled the minds of
many a young girl upon entering into service. Another possibility was
becoming the concubine of a lord. This, too, was seen as a possible
route to future security.
Ideas about routes to security and happiness circulated in many
forms. Formanek has analyzed the way such ideas were presented in a
subgenre of sugoroku board games dealing with women’s career or
success stories. Sugoroku—or more specifically, the pictorial sugoroku
A Handbook for Women’s Tea in the Nineteenth Century81

that will be discussed here—are a “genre of printed board-games” that

consisted of “woodblock-printed sheets pasted together” and were
popular in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The aim of the
game was to reach a “goal” square, which was done by rolling dice
and following the instructions on the squares as to where to proceed
next. Sugoroku had developed from Buddhist origins to become com-
mercial products in various subgenres covering theatre, history, and
travel, to name a few. They were often illustrated by celebrated wood-
block artists, such as Utagawa Kunisada (1786–1865; also known as
Toyokuni III;), and featured text by well-known authors, such as
Mantei Ōga (1818–1890).43
One such “text,”44 Sugoroku for Women’s Edification: How to Make
One’s Way in Life (Onna kyōkun shusse sugoroku, 1847–1852), reveals
that there was a “widespread range of possible life courses available to a
woman born as a commoner daughter,” yet there was “no secure posi-
tion” that guaranteed she would reach the goal. In this case the goal was
becoming a “retired old lady blessed with fortune and good luck.”45 On
Sugoroku for Women’s Edification, becoming a concubine after entering
service provided the quickest route to the goal, suggesting that concubi-
nage was viewed as a good route for a woman to take in order to secure
her future.46 Another possibility was to become the lord’s wife, which
was often the goal on sugoroku that focused specifically on the subject
of serving in an aristocratic or daimyo household.47
Another possible life course, aside from marriage, was to become a
teacher upon retirement from service, which by the latter part of the
early modern period had become a common occupation. Certainly,
enough women were engaged in teaching shamisen (a three-stringed mu-
sical instrument) and jōruri (a form of ballad chanting) for the Tokugawa
shogunate to include controls on it in the Tempō reforms of the 1840s.48
Uezaki suggested that those who migrated to the city for service would
“soon come to imitate the manners of the Edo people and to detest life
in their native provinces,” yet this was not always the outcome.49
Walthall gives several examples of women who, after perfecting their
preferred arts while in service, returned to their hometown to instruct
local children. They brought their knowledge of elite and city culture
with them, thereby blurring not only status but also regional differences.
For example, a commoner girl named Sayo learned reading, writing, and
shamisen while she was employed at a daimyo mansion. She later re-
turned to her hometown and supported her ailing parents by teaching
local girls basic literacy skills.50 In another case, Tamura Kajiko went
82 Chapter 3

into service at the shogun’s palace when she was seventeen. At age thirty-
one she returned home and began instructing local children in poetry
writing, manners and etiquette, and shamisen.51

Learning Tea as Preparation for Service

Both commoner and samurai families invested in their daughter’s
education, in particular in the arts that would stand them in good stead
for gaining a position in a noble or samurai household. Tea was one
such art. When Nishimiya Hide, the sixteen-year-old daughter of a low-
ranking samurai, applied for a position as an attendant to Yoshiko, the
wife of Mito domain lord Tokugawa Nariaki (1800–1860), she put to
use her training in tea. In two interviews Hide’s personal appearance,
ability to compose a poem, and skill at tea were all scrutinized by Yo-
shiko herself.52 Yoshiko was the daughter of an imperial prince, as well
as the wife of a daimyo. Her serving women would have been expected
to be refined and graceful. Being an accomplished tea practitioner dem-
onstrated that Hide possessed these qualities, as it did for the nursemaid
Masaoka in The Precious Incense and Autumn Flowers of Sendai, de-
scribed in chapter 1. After being accepted for the position, Hide “spent
the next nineteen years in service to Yoshiko, refining her social skills
and embodying gentility.”53
Like Hide, girls often “had to demonstrate their cultural compe-
tence at what amounted to job interviews.”54 This meant that already
having skill at an art such as tea gave a girl a better chance for gaining
a position as an attendant. The diaries of the daimyo of Yamato
Kōriyama (a small domain of 150,000 koku, present-day Nara Prefec-
ture), Yanagisawa Nobutoki (1724–1792), attest to the eagerness of
girls to serve in a daimyo household. In the course of the diaries, writ-
ten between 1773 and 1791, approximately 240 girls, ranging in age
from early teens through to mid-twenties, presented themselves at the
Yanagisawa household wishing to be employed as an attendant.55 At
these interviews the applicants would demonstrate their skill in at least
two arts. The most common combinations were jōruri and shamisen,
and dance and shamisen. Some girls demonstrated ability in three or
more arts, such as seventeen-year-old Imo, who presented herself for an
interview in the twelfth month of 1783 and demonstrated her skills in
calligraphy, gidayū (a form of ballad chanting), playing the koto (a
string instrument), chanoyu tea, and sewing. Even with all of these skills,
however, Imo was not employed.56
A Handbook for Women’s Tea in the Nineteenth Century83

It appears that in some instances the applicants were interviewing

prospective employers as much as they were being interviewed them-
selves. Again, the book Floating-World Bathhouse provides an illustrative
example. One of the mothers, who has so far been unsuccessful in her
bid to place her daughter in service, says to her more successful friend,
whose daughter has been an attendant at a samurai household since she
was six: “If they’re not meant to be, those service opportunities will slip
away from you. When I think, ‘Let’s place her here,’ the other party
thinks she won’t quite do. And when they take a liking to her, I have my
doubts about them! We’ve gone to interviews any number of times, but
there’s always been some hitch. Ha ha ha! What a lot of trouble it is!”57
A girl of good background or with exceptional talent at certain arts may
well have been in a strong position to negotiate favorable working con-
ditions with an employer of her choice.58
If one were to rank the arts girls learned in order of popularity, or
at least the frequency with which they appear in the sources, then play-
ing shamisen would be near the top. As Ikegami and others have noted,
although shamisen was considered an art form more suited to common-
ers than to samurai, “aesthetic ‘slumming’ was not uncommon,” and
samurai did enjoy arts associated with commoners such as shamisen and
kabuki.59 Tea culture would probably be somewhere in the middle of
the list. Having knowledge of tea culture was certainly recognized as an
accomplishment that could help a girl gain a position as an attendant.
At the Great Interior of Edo castle, secondary attendants (otsugi) were
responsible for selecting and arranging utensils for tea gatherings, as-
sisted by antechamber attendants.60 Women of secondary attendant
rank were from high-ranking (hatamoto) samurai families and would
have been highly accomplished in cultural practices such as tea, as well
as ikebana (flower arranging) and playing music. Likewise at daimyo
mansions there would also have been serving women who had responsi-
bility for and oversight of the hosting of tea gatherings within the inner
quarters. Women who entered into service in such households, being of
lower status than hatamoto, would not have been as accomplished as the
women entering into service at Edo castle, for whom it was even more
important to learn the social graces and cultural accomplishments that
would help them perform the duties of a serving woman. Hence, the
edification guide Poetry Recitation for Women’s Learning (Onna rōei
kyōkunka, 1753) informed its readers: “Low-status women who will en-
ter into service [in an elite household] should study tea.”61 Most girls
learned a range of arts, of which tea would have been just one. For
84 Chapter 3

e­ xample, the Shingaku scholar Shibata Kyūō (1783–1839) “described

how wealthy commoners in Ikeda, a town fifteen kilometers northwest
of Osaka, forced their fourteen-year-old daughter to study flower ar-
ranging, painting, tea ceremony, and koto.”62 Apparently Shibata did
not think such an education was appropriate. Yet we see the keenness
with which even commoner girls studied cultural arts, whether of their
own accord or at their parents’ behest.
Each of these arts would have had its own appealing feature to a
young woman. We can imagine that tea, with its focus on elegant car-
riage, etiquette, and manners, would have seemed suited to the task of
preparing a girl to enter an elite household. More than any of the other
arts studied by young women, tea had a specific focus on the body.
Through the study of tea a girl learned not just how to prepare and
serve tea as a host and how to receive it as a guest; she also learned how
to move and manipulate her body so as to appear elegant at all times. As
writings on women’s tea practice indicated, sitting, standing, walking,
bowing, and carrying utensils were studied in detail. Tea was, then, not
so much an art practiced for the purpose of specific skills—although
making, serving, and receiving tea in the appropriate manner were of
course useful skills in their own right. Rather, its significance lay in the
repetition of these seemingly automatic acts, which in combination and
after a reasonable period of training could transform the way in which a
girl carried herself. Learning tea was a way of learning to be graceful.
Once a woman gained employment, her education in the cultural
arts may have continued. Of course, this depended on her position and
on the particular household in which she served. A sugoroku of the genre
that focused on women’s service in noble households, Sugoroku of Suc-
cess as an Attendant in Service in the Inner Quarters (Oku-bōkō shusse su-
goroku, 1844–1864), shows the types of activities (such as playing koto)
and jobs (such as arranging hair) engaged in by female attendants (plate
2).63 Tea was one of these activities. The text on the square showing a
woman practicing tea (second square from the top on the far right row)
also reveals the importance of marriage prospects for female attendants:
the attendant doing tea is interrupted by a woman telling her to swap
her duties for the next day because the matchmaking information has
come. In another game of a similar period, Sugoroku of Success in Artis-
tic Accomplishments for Girls (Musume shogei shusse sugoroku, 1843–
1847), tea is recommended as an art for girls wishing to be
successful—that is, to gain a position in service in an elite household
(plate 3). Tea was depicted here (third square from the bottom on the far
A Handbook for Women’s Tea in the Nineteenth Century85

left row, and second square from the top in the third row in from the
left) along with activities such as koto, shamisen, flower arranging, and
incense appreciation. These depictions of tea on women’s success-story
sugoroku indicate the important role of this art for female attendants in
elite households. Though these games were designed more for entertain-
ment than for edification, they reinforced the message found in writings
on women’s tea practice that knowledge of tea culture was an accom-
plishment of a successful woman.
Of course, not all female attendants would have been engaged in
tea practice. Far from it, the majority would have been occupied with
rudimentary domestic tasks. For the well-bred, high-ranking serving
women in elite households, though, arts such as tea could be part of
their everyday lives, whether as part of their job or for leisure. It was a
reflection of the high status of a household to have women with skill in
the cultural arts in their employ and to be able to afford them the time
to indulge in “conspicuous leisure” such as tea practice.64 Engaging in
tea within the inner quarters itself was not a conspicuous activity. How-
ever, when female attendants participated in tea gatherings with family
members and outsiders, they displayed their learning and refinement. As
popular fiction author Ihara Saikaku indicated in The Life of an Amo-
rous Man (Kōshoku ichidai otoko, 1682), a master’s status could be
judged by the appearance and qualities of his attendant.65 Female atten-
dants who were trained in arts such as tea were a reflection of the even
finer breeding of those for whom they worked.
The notion that learning one of the arts represented in sugoroku
board games gave a girl the chance to find employment and secure her
future is reflected in the use of the word “success” in the titles. This suc-
cess, though, did not stop at being employed in an elite household. Be-
yond that, there was the possibility of making a good match or becoming
an independent teacher. These games were one way of disseminating the
idea that learning how to participate in tea culture was important for
gaining a position in service. Because sugoroku had visual appeal and
the phonetic kana script was used, they could be read and played by al-
most anyone with a basic education. They were also an easy way for
masters of various arts to spread information about the utensils and at-
tire necessary for study.66 It may be that the potential outcomes of learn-
ing an art were thus overstated to heighten the appeal of study, yet the
message itself must have had some resonance, even if only in the realm
of dreams rather than reality. Learning tea was one rung on the ladder
of success, both in the games and, potentially, in life.
86 Chapter 3

Women and Tea Culture in the Ii Household

The Ii household in the mid-nineteenth century provides a par-
ticularly detailed example of how women’s tea practice could function
in a daimyo household. Records of tea gatherings indicate that women
of the Ii family, as well as a large number of female attendants, regu-
larly attended gatherings in the familial/household context. They did
so under the leadership and guidance of the head of the household, Ii
Naosuke (1815–1860). While not every daimyo or large elite house-
hold would have been engaged in tea culture to the same extent as the
Ii household, tea culture was part of the general cultural milieu that
daimyo and other samurai families participated in. Records discussed
in chapter 1 indicate that women of elite households participated in tea
gatherings with men both from their household and outside it. Gener-
ally such women participated when the male head of the household
was also a tea practitioner, as was the case with Naosuke—for exam-
ple, the wife of Kobayakawa Takakage and her five attendants. The Ii
household is an example of the top end of possibilities for women’s tea
practice in elite households, which could have been emulated lower
down the scale.
The focus here is not on examining Naosuke’s philosophy or per-
sonal tea practice, as other scholars have done. It is necessary, however,
to have some understanding of certain aspects of Naosuke’s philosophy
of tea practice, particularly that which relates to gender, in order to un-
derstand the context in which the women of his household engaged in
tea practice. Naosuke was born the fourteenth son of the daimyo of
Hikone (currently located in Shiga Prefecture), Ii Naonaka (1766–1831).
As a younger son of a daimyo, he was set up in a separate residence out-
side Hikone castle known as Umoreginoya (House of Buried Wood)
from the age of seventeen, where he lived in relative isolation for fifteen
years. In 1846, Naosuke was suddenly declared heir apparent and four
years later became daimyo. Naosuke’s term as daimyo of Hikone was
eventful, particularly in the few years he served as chief minister of the
Tokugawa shogunate from 1857. This was a period of political turmoil
when internal and external forces were testing the system that had gov-
erned Japan for over two hundred years. Naosuke was involved in a
succession dispute within the Tokugawa household and subsequently
led a purge against officials in the unsuccessful faction. Already facing
hostility, Naosuke signed an international trade treaty with the Ameri-
cans in 1858 (who had arrived in 1853, demanding a trade treaty and
the opening of Japanese ports to US ships). Naosuke signed the treaty
A Handbook for Women’s Tea in the Nineteenth Century87

without having imperial approval, which was theoretically required de-

spite the political impotence of the imperial court. This caused wide-
spread anger and hostility among imperial loyalists, and many others
who thought Naosuke had overreached the limits of his position. As a
result of opposition to his policies and approach, Naosuke was assassi-
nated by political enemies in 1860.
At the same time as being a key political player who held unpopu-
lar views that set him apart from his peers, Naosuke was also a man of
culture and the arts, something he shared in common with many daimyo.
During the so-called Umoreginoya period, Naosuke had devoted himself
to artistic and intellectual study, including tea culture. He established his
own branch of the Sekishū school of tea toward the end of this period
and began writing about his tea philosophy, focusing on how the study
of tea contributed to both self-cultivation and state governance.67 In tea
culture, Naosuke saw the answer to what he perceived to be the ills of
his day—namely, “the collapse of warrior-class tea and . . . the disinte-
gration of the warrior spirit in general.”68 His later writings on tea cul-
ture, such as the well-known Collection for a Tea Gathering (Chanoyu
ichie shū, ca. 1856), were his response to this perceived crisis.69 In Collec-
tion for a Tea Gathering, Naosuke outlined the two most famous aspects
of his tea philosophy: “one time, one meeting” (ichigo, ichie) and “the
importance of sitting alone in meditation (dokuza kannen).”70 Historians
have tended to focus on these aspects of the text.71 As Reiko Tanimura
has shown, however, there is much more to this text than just an expla-
nation of Naosuke’s philosophy. It is, in fact, “a manual of practical
manners for the warrior class organized around tea practice.”72 Nao-
suke did not limit his advice on practical manners and explication of his
tea philosophy to male practitioners. Women of samurai status were
also addressed in this text. For example, Naosuke describes the proper
attire for women when attending tea gatherings.73
Tanimura has shown that the frequent inclusion of women in his
tea gatherings and in his writings on women and tea culture—Collection
for a Tea Gathering and his transcription of A Woman’s Handbook—is a
distinctive feature of Naosuke’s tea practice and philosophy. The tea
gatherings involving women of the Ii household were of an intimate,
familial nature. This characteristic is thought to contrast with the nature
of gatherings he held involving other daimyo and their servants, which
were of a political nature. According to Tanimura, the gatherings involv-
ing women conformed more to Naosuke’s ideal of tea, while the politi-
cal gatherings were born of necessity.74
88 Chapter 3

Naosuke’s transcription of A Woman’s Handbook can be assumed

to date from around 1850, based on intertextual comparisons with his
other writings and anecdotal evidence from a former attendant. It is
unlikely that Naosuke would have had access to the text during his
years of relative isolation in the Umoreginoya. He probably accessed it
after 1846, possibly while he was in Edo on duty as heir apparent or
daimyo. One of the female attendants who had served at Hikone castle,
Takeuchi Masuo, later recalled that around 1852 Naosuke gave the
women tea books to read, most likely including A Woman’s Handbook.75
It thus seems probable that, sometime after 1846 and before 1852,
Naosuke borrowed A Woman’s Handbook from someone and made a
copy of it for his own use and for use in the instruction of his female
family members and attendants. Certainly he had read A Woman’s
Handbook by the time he wrote Collection for a Tea Gathering in ap-
proximately 1856, as the passage detailing appropriate clothes for
women to wear to a tea gathering betrays the influence of Oguchi Shōō’s
text. In any case, it is clear that A Woman’s Handbook was being read
and disseminated among Sekishū adherents more than a century after
Shōō penned it, demonstrating that the demand for a handbook on
women’s tea had not diminished.
In his transcription of the text, Naosuke made numerous omis-
sions, which were clearly intended and indicated as such, and added
annotations. In some places he responded to the text by adding editorial
notes in the margins. For example, where the source text says that the
order of seating among guests is determined by a man’s social position,
with women’s seating following that of their husband or father, Nao-
suke disagreed. He wrote, “This is not the Way of Tea; social position
has no place in the tearoom; the positions are determined by that day’s
main guest.”76 Indeed, in Collection for a Tea Gathering Naosuke indi-
cated that in “an ideal tea gathering every guest was to be treated impar-
tially regardless of rank.” Yet, because of the political realities of his day,
he could not always put ideals into practice. Forty-one passages of this
same book “refer to the special treatment to be afforded to high-ranking
warriors and nobles in tea gatherings.”77
It appears that when Naosuke commented, “Social position has no
place in the tearoom,” he was specifically referring to the issue of status
and not gender. That is, it was not the notion of women following their
husband’s rank that Naosuke took issue with, but the notion of rank
being a guide to seating order. For example, the women of the Ii house-
hold often attended tea gatherings at which male guests were also pres-
A Handbook for Women’s Tea in the Nineteenth Century89

ent, including Naosuke himself and his vassals. In these mixed-sex

gatherings men usually filled the most important position of the first, or
main, guest. Most often it was Naosuke himself taking this role, but on
three occasions the first guest was one of his retainers. There were two
occasions out of all Naosuke’s recorded tea gatherings when women
acted as the main guest: these women were his wife, Masako, and his
adoptive mother, Yōkyō’in.78 Their high position within the household
would likely have outweighed any gender considerations. The remaining
guest positions do not seem to have been filled with any particular refer-
ence to gender, and there were occasions when women were seated both
above and below men. Naosuke saw no problem in having men and
women seated side by side in the small space of a tearoom, sharing a
bowl of tea; however, he does seem to have had a preference for seating
men as the first guest.
Other passages from the source text were left out altogether by
Naosuke in his transcription of A Woman’s Handbook, suggesting he
disagreed with their sentiment. For example, the sayings “Women talk-
ing too much, like hen’s crying in the morning, will bring bad things to
your house” and “She who does not use many words and is amiable is
the best woman” are not found. Nor is the proscription against men and
women inviting a member of the opposite sex to a tea gathering on their
own. The concluding remarks that women who just enjoy tea as an
amusement are leaving themselves open to suspicion and slander are
also not found in Naosuke’s transcription. Even though some of the sen-
timent did not seem relevant to his day or went against his own philoso-
phy, A Woman’s Handbook must still have been an important and
influential work to have made its way into Naosuke’s hands and for him
to transcribe it. Despite the changes, omissions, and editorial comments
made by Naosuke, the focus of the text remained on tea practice as a
way for women to cultivate the mind, acquire a moral and ethical frame-
work, and learn comportment.
A Woman’s Handbook was not Naosuke’s sole influence, however.
His own teacher, Katagiri Sōen (1774–1864), held tea gatherings in
which women participated. In seven gatherings held in 1847 and 1848,
female participants were present.79 Seventeen women altogether were
listed in records of Sōen’s tea gatherings, two of whom were members of
the Katagiri family. In all but one gathering, two or three women at-
tended together, and male guests were at the same gatherings. These
gatherings thus follow the familiar pattern of women’s participation in
tea gatherings discussed in chapter 1. Naosuke, then, had a precedent
90 Chapter 3

from his own teacher for including women alongside men at tea gather-
ings, as well as being part of a school that had a tradition of encourag-
ing women’s tea practice dating back at least to Oguchi Shōō.

Putting Theory into Practice

Ii household women had lessons in tea culture from 1852. The
former attendant Masuo, when interviewed later in her life, recalled
that she and other female attendants were taught tea by Katagiri
Sōtetsu.80 Sōtetsu was called on to instruct the women because of the
interest shown in tea by Naosuke’s adoptive mother, Yōkyō’in. Sōtetsu
was, according to Masuo, asked to teach them because she was accom-
plished in the style of tea associated with her husband, Katagiri Sōen.
Indeed, she was probably the tea master Sōgyū who appears in the re-
cords of Naosuke’s tea gatherings (“Sōgyū” presumably being her tea
name).81 This kind of concrete example of female-to-female transmis-
sion of tea culture is rare. Given that we have very few records related
to actual tea classes for women, however, we may infer that women
may often have learned tea from other, more experienced women. This
may have been particularly the case in large daimyo households in
which most aspects of women’s education were conducted internally,
within the women’s quarters.
Ii household women were also occasionally instructed by Naosuke,
who would join in their lessons when he was in “good humor,” accord-
ing to Masuo. He would “kindly correct their mistakes,” with the agree-
ment of Sōtetsu, and also talk intimately with Yōkyō’in. When he
attended the women’s lessons, he came on a palanquin and, aside from
the official gifts, brought sweets and cooked dishes, presented in a nest
of lacquered boxes.82
As well as studying in person with a teacher, the women read texts
such as A Woman’s Handbook as part of their tea practice. As mentioned,
Masuo recalled that Naosuke gave her and the other women in the inner
quarters tea books to read at the same time that they were taking lessons
from Sōtetsu.83 It is likely that Naosuke’s motivation for transcribing the
text was as much for the edification of the women of his household as for
his own education. The extant copy of Naosuke’s A Woman’s Handbook
is written with a mixture of kanji with and without phonetic glossing in
kana. Whereas Shōō’s text is written mostly in kana, Naosuke’s copy has
a greater use of kanji. It must be assumed that what the women read was
Naosuke’s transcribed version of A Woman’s Handbook, for it would be
A Handbook for Women’s Tea in the Nineteenth Century91

unlikely that he would give them Shōō’s manuscript when he clearly dis-
agreed with sections of it. Therefore, it seems that the women of the Ii
household could read kanji as well as kana. Masuo recalled that she and
the other attendants not only read but made transcriptions of these tea
books for themselves, keeping them at hand so they could learn from
them.84 This suggests they could write kanji as well as kana, though of
course they might not have copied it out exactly as Naosuke wrote it. The
women also followed other written instructions about tea gatherings pre-
pared by Naosuke, according to Masuo.
From Masuo’s account a picture emerges of an intimate circle of
female tea practitioners, led by Yōkyō’in and under the tutelage of
Sōtetsu. Naosuke, too, participated in their study circle, acting as a
sort of patron. The women’s involvement in tea, however, was not
limited to private study in the inner quarters. They also attended tea
gatherings with Naosuke and a wide circle of participants. Masuo
herself attended a gathering on 1857/12/7 in Edo along with Yōkyō’in,
Sōgyū, and two other female attendants, Mutsu and Kuni, with
­Naosuke acting as host.85
The tea gatherings involving Ii household women are recorded in
five separate records. The largest record is Kaiseki-fu (author unknown),
which lists seventy-eight gatherings held in both Hikone and Edo from
1852/2/20 to 1858/2/28.86 The other records—Ansei 6 Mizuya-chō
(written by Naosuke),87 Ansei Manen Mizuya-chō (author unknown),88
Tōto Mizuya-chō (written by Naosuke),89 and Maikai Mizuya-chō (writ-
ten by Naosuke)90—list gatherings ranging in date from 1852 to 1860,
also held in both Hikone and Edo. Like all records of tea gatherings,
these detail who the host and guests were at each gathering, where it
was held, and what utensils were used. They therefore provide us with
a clear picture of the context of women’s tea practice in a daimyo
household. At the majority of the gatherings, Naosuke was the first
guest. The host and other guests were drawn from his private circle of
family and friends, including priests of temples in Hikone, male retain-
ers, and female attendants.
In all, some thirty women of the Ii household attended Naosuke’s
tea gatherings. These included his daughter, Yachiyo; his wife, Masako;
his mother, Yōkyō’in; and the tea master Sōgyū. In addition, Naosuke’s
concubines were regular participants: Shizu, who was Yachiyo’s mother;
and Sato, the mother of his son Yoshimaro. The majority of women who
participated in the gatherings were attendants, women we know only by
their first names, such as Tase and Makio. These attendants were not
92 Chapter 3

merely studying tea and attending gatherings as companions to the

women they served; they were listed as guests in their own right, and
some were even hosts on occasion. Thus, they sat alongside the daimyo
and his retainers (some of whom were accomplished practitioners with
tea names) as equal participants in the social network. The tea gather-
ings were an opportunity to put into practice what had been learned in
lessons, spaces to affirm the participants’ status as tea practitioners, and
an opportunity to forge and cement social and political ties. There would
have been many more women employed as attendants in the Ii house-
hold than those who participated in tea. It was a select group of women
who were part of this circle.
Records of Naosuke’s tea gatherings give us a glimpse of the in-
volvement of women of the Ii household in tea culture within the famil-
ial/household context. Yachiyo, Naosuke’s daughter, was a frequent
participant in his tea gatherings. She was born in 1846 and must have
studied tea from a very young age, for the first record we come across of
her in the Kaiseki-fu is from 1855/2/19, when she was just nine years old.
On this occasion she acted as host for a gathering at which the head pur-
veyor to the inner quarters was the main guest.91 Among the guests were
also three female attendants, Tatsuo, Maki, and Makio. The gathering
was held in the Tenkō tearoom, within the upper mansion at Hikone
castle.92 Perhaps this was a debut for Yachiyo into the world of tea.
Over the next three years, Yachiyo acted as a host on two more oc-
casions, and she appears as a guest twelve times in the records. On
1857/11/7 she acted as host for a gathering held in Edo at which Nao-
suke’s wife, Masako, was the main guest, and Sōgyū the last guest.93 She
then acted as a host for five men at a gathering in Edo on 1858/3/1.94
These men were a group of retainers who studied tea with Naosuke.95
They all had tea names, which had probably been given to them by
Naosuke as their teacher. Between them, they took turns at hosting and
being guests at all the gatherings listed in the Maikai Mizuya-chō record.
At this particular gathering, the main guest was a house elder; the other
guests all held positions as vassals to Naosuke, such as chamberlain or
steward.96 This gathering was a little more than one month before
Yachiyo’s marriage took place. Just as the gathering three years earlier
can be thought of as her debut into the tea world, this last gathering
may have been a farewell to the Ii tea network for Yachiyo. It would
have been a culmination of her years of study to host a gathering for five
accomplished practitioners, who were also important political associ-
ates and retainers of her father.
A Handbook for Women’s Tea in the Nineteenth Century93

At the other gatherings Yachiyo attended during these three years,

she was generally the second guest, seated after Naosuke as the main
guest. They were joined by a range of people, such as her mother, female
attendants, and various male retainers. On 1855/5/10 the guests, in or-
der of seating, were Naosuke; Yachiyo; her mother, Shizu; and Naka-
mura Kyūji, a purveyor to Naosuke. The host was Ogata Seian, a
physician who attended several other gatherings with Ii household
women.97 The following month she again sat alongside her father at a
gathering in the Tenkō tearoom at Hikone castle. The other guests were
a female attendant, a male attendant, and a steward of the inner quar-
ters. Their host was a male vassal.98
From 1856 to 1857 Naosuke and Yachiyo were joined by Nao-
suke’s son, Yoshimaro, at several gatherings. On 1856/8/27 he was the
third guest, after Naosuke and Yachiyo, followed by the children’s moth-
ers, Shizu and Sato. This was very much a family gathering. Their host in
the Tenkō tearoom was Aoyama Yogozaemon, head steward of the in-
ner quarters.99 Naosuke, Yachiyo, and Yoshimaro were also guests on
1856/9/10, along with a female attendant and a male vassal. Their host
was a male attendant.100 On 1856/12/16 Yoshimaro took the role of
second guest, with Yachiyo moving to the third guest spot and Shizu and
Sato joining them again. Their host was one of the vassals whom Yachiyo
would host two years later at the tea gathering shortly before her mar-
riage.101 Naosuke, Yoshimaro, and Yachiyo again sat together at a gath-
ering on 1857/2/9 along with two female attendants who were frequent
participants at Naosuke’s tea gatherings, Tase and Makio. They were
hosted by a physician to the inner quarters.102 On 1857/3/24 Yachiyo
and her father were joined by Shizu, Tase, and Makio. Their host was a
male attendant.103 On 1857/4/29 Shizu and Tase again joined Naosuke
and Yachiyo, along with one of the stewards of the inner quarters. They
were hosted by another steward.104 On 1857/8/10 Naosuke, Yachiyo,
Yoshimaro, Makio, and Sato were the guests of a male attendant. This
was the last gathering Yachiyo attended at Hikone castle.
The following month Naosuke and Yachiyo were again joined by
Makio and another female attendant, as well the head steward of the
inner quarters, but this time the gathering took place in the Shingoseki
tearoom in Edo.105 The head steward of the inner quarters, Aoyama Yo-
gozaemon, as well as several other retainers who attended gatherings
with the women in Hikone, had accompanied the women when they
went to Edo in 1855.106 Aoyama joined Naosuke and Yachiyo again for
a gathering on 1858/1/29, along with a female attendant and the head
94 Chapter 3

purveyor to the inner quarters.107 Finally, Yachiyo was the second guest
at a gathering on 1858/2/18. Her father was again the first guest, two
female attendants sat as third and fourth guests, and the physician Ogata
sat as the last guest. This gathering, like the previous one, took place in
the four-and-a-half-mat tearoom in the Edo mansion. The host was a
male attendant.108
Naosuke likely would have had a tremendous sense of pride in be-
ing able to show off his young daughter’s accomplishments in tea cul-
ture to his family and retainers. For those who participated in these
gatherings with Yachiyo, it would have been a great honor and a symbol
of their connection to the family to sit together with the young daughter
of the daimyo, sharing the experience of a tea gathering with her and
with Naosuke. Yachiyo, at age twelve, married Matsudaira Yoritoshi
(1834–1903), heir of Takamatsu domain (present-day Kagawa Prefec-
ture), on 1858/4/21. Though the records of Yachiyo’s participation in
tea gatherings end with her marriage, it is likely her tea practice did not.
The items in her bridal trousseau, preserved in the form of miniatures as
“doll’s utensils” in the Hikone Castle Museum collection, include many
tea utensils: a black lacquer utensil stand with a set of utensils, including
kettle, cold water jar, lid rest, tea caddy, tea bowl, and tea scoop.109 As
with all the other items in her trousseau, such as clothing stands, dishes,
and trays, these tea utensils were intended to be items for use by Yachiyo
in her life as a high-ranking samurai’s wife. With her training in tea she
surely put them to good use.
At every gathering Yachiyo attended as a guest, she was joined by
at least one other woman—often her mother, Shizu, or otherwise the at-
tendant Makio—while the attendants Sato and Tase regularly joined in
the gatherings too. In addition to participating in gatherings with
Yachiyo, female attendants such as Tase and Makio attended other gath-
erings where no female member of the Ii family was present. These two
female attendants were clearly regarded as accomplished tea practitio-
ners by Naosuke. Tase, for example, hosted two tea gatherings. The first
was on 1856/1/26 in a three-mat tearoom in Edo.110 The second occa-
sion was later that same year in the same room.111 Although no guests
are listed for either gathering, we can presume that Naosuke was the
main guest, as he was for most gatherings recorded in the Kaiseki-fu re-
cord. Tase was herself a guest at a gathering held six days before the
second tea she hosted. On that occasion Naosuke was the main guest,
Shizu the second guest, Tase the third, and two male vassals the fourth
and fifth guests. The gathering was held in the Ichiroken tearoom in Edo
A Handbook for Women’s Tea in the Nineteenth Century95

and hosted by the physician Ogata.112 On 1856/4/4 Tase and Makio

were guests at a gathering held in the same room, along with Naosuke
and another female attendant.113
Makio was the most active of all the female attendants, participat-
ing in twelve gatherings altogether. One of these was as a host for Nao-
suke, Sato, and two other female attendants, Mutsu and Kishi, in
1859.114 At the other eleven gatherings, held in either Hikone and Edo
beginning in 1855 and continuing until 1860 (the year of Naosuke’s as-
sassination), Makio was a guest. Naosuke was of course present at most
of these gatherings, as were Yachiyo, Yoshimaro, Shizu, Sato, numerous
female attendants, and many of the male retainers and vassals who par-
ticipated in the other gatherings already described.115
The activities of Tase and Makio indicate that they were part of a
large social network centered on tea practice that included the lord; his
daughter, son, wife, and concubines; other female attendants; and male
retainers of varying occupations connected to the household. While the
network was broad in the number, gender, and rank of participants, it
was also quite intimate. For example, the retainers who participated in
this network held positions connected to the inner quarters or to Nao-
suke directly. The women were not therefore participating in tea gather-
ings with men to whom they had little or no connection. Rather, a
picture emerges of a social network involving women and men in the
employ of the Ii household, centered on tea culture. In this respect, the
tea practice among women of the Ii household mirrors that of other elite
women and their attendants described in chapter 1.
In summary, Naosuke’s writings and the records of his tea gather-
ings are an example of how women’s tea practice in a daimyo household
could function in the Edo period. In this case, samurai women and their
attendants, who may have been of either samurai or commoner status,
studied tea privately within the household. Their study was in the form
of reading and transcribing texts on tea, such as A Woman’s Handbook,
which in this case had been copied and adapted for them by the head of
the household. They also took lessons with a female teacher who was
the wife of a tea master close to the family. Finally, they participated in
tea gatherings, both as hosts and guests, in a familial/household context
at both the domain castle and the Edo mansion.
Returning to the topic of Naosuke’s tea philosophy, scholars
have seen the participation of Ii household women in tea culture as
unique and attributed it to the particulars of Naosuke’s philosophy
and personal character.116 Involving the women of his household in
96 Chapter 3

tea may have been an extension of Naosuke’s philosophical ideals, but

this practice was not an isolated instance. Records discussed in chap-
ter 1 indicate there was female participation in tea gatherings through-
out the Edo period. Like the gatherings of the Ii household, women of
a family participated alongside male family members, often with fe-
male attendants joining in. Many of these records are also connected
to men who were prominent tea practitioners, like Naosuke. In those
records, though, there are no other examples of women acting as
hosts. Yet this absence of female hosts in those records should not lead
us to assume that women never acted as hosts outside of the few spe-
cific examples we know. Rather, it is far more likely that there were
elite women who hosted tea gatherings for members of their family/
household and that these gatherings were simply not recorded. It also
seems highly probable, from the depictions on sugoroku, that tea was
practiced among female attendants in elite households, in the form of
both lessons and gatherings.
What is distinct about the involvement of Ii household women in
tea culture is that we have such detailed records of it. Rather than a
unique or rare example of Edo-period women’s tea practice, this should
be seen as an example of how women in court and samurai households,
both the immediate family members and their attendants, could have
learned about and participated in tea culture. We know that acquiring
knowledge of tea culture was considered to be an accomplishment that
would prepare young women for going into service in an elite house-
hold. We also know that once employed, female attendants could prac-
tice tea privately within the inner quarters, and female attendants could
accompany members of the families they served at tea gatherings. The Ii
household case study illustrates this pattern, which is also apparent
from a close reading of the records of women’s participation in tea cul-
ture discussed in chapter 1. It may well be that Ii household women,
under Naosuke’s leadership, were more prolific in their tea practice than
women in other elite households, but the ways in which they engaged
with tea culture appear to have been similar.

Tea and Service

Ii household women’s participation in tea culture highlights the
ways in which writings on women’s tea practice, such as A Woman’s
Handbook, were put into practice, as well as the close connection
­between studying tea and serving in elite households. One reason why
A Handbook for Women’s Tea in the Nineteenth Century97

women, especially lower-ranking samurai and wealthy commoners,

studied tea with increasing enthusiasm in the eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries was as preparation for serving in an elite household. Studying
tea was useful preparation for two reasons: because a woman learned
to be graceful and embody an ideal of genteel femininity; and because
elite women who were tea practitioners themselves would have wanted
some of their attendants to be proficient too so that those attendants
could accompany them at tea gatherings. In addition to studying tea as
preparation for going into service, women may also have learned tea
while employed as attendants, as occurred in the Ii household. Practic-
ing tea and serving in an elite household were both ways in which
women could heighten their status. Their aspirations to do so were
targeted in popular media such as sugoroku board games. The percep-
tible increase in both the numbers of women practicing tea and the
numbers of women going into service, which were both outcomes of
the long-term economic growth of the Edo period, point to a blurring
of the status system whereby the social boundaries between groups be-
came less significant. Women played a significant role in this process in
two ways, whether consciously or not. First, they were able to blur,
sometimes even bridge, status boundaries through marriage or by en-
tering into other relationships with men such as concubinage. Second,
they played a role as capital-­bearing objects, for both themselves and
their families/­households.
Therefore, significant implications resulted from women’s tea prac-
tice and their service in elite households. Both of these developments
were connected to the broader phenomenon of the gradual blurring of
status boundaries between people of samurai and commoner status.
Through learning tea and going into service, samurai and wealthy com-
moner women were able to deploy their bodies in the pursuit of status—
either heightening their status (within the status group to which they
already belonged) or, less likely but nonetheless possible, raising their
status (by moving into a higher status group through marriage). The
connection between practicing tea and entering into service formed part
of the framework in which Edo-period women’s tea practice was under-
stood and occurred. This relationship between tea culture and service
was made explicit in popular writings, to which we now turn.
 Chapter 4

Guides for Cultivating

Femininity

T
his chapter shifts the focus away from manuscript
texts on tea culture aimed at an elite female audience
to popular writings on women’s tea practice. These
popular writings were published in guides for women’s edification
from the mid-eighteenth century. They represent the next stage of a
“civilizing process” of “kugefication,” by which knowledge about tea
culture spread throughout society. What we see at work here is part of
a larger process that occurred in the publishing industry whereby
knowledge of fields such as divination, medicine, and calculation was
initially spread through specialized writings aimed at a narrow audi-
ence, then later became the subject of popular texts aimed at begin-
ners.1 Significantly, edification guides did not advocate one school of
tea over another, nor did they suggest that women needed to go to a
teacher or become officially registered with a tea school. Instead, sec-
tions on tea culture in these guides were intended to provide enough
information for the aspirational commoner woman to equip herself
with the requisite knowledge.
Three main reasons were given for why women should study tea
in these guides: the knowledge was essential for those wishing to be
up-to-date with the latest social customs; readers would learn to be
graceful; and studying tea was useful preparation for going into ser-
vice in an elite household. Wealthy commoner women thus learned tea
in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries for reasons similar to those
for women in modern Japan—tea taught manners, deportment, and
etiquette. The underlying intention was to acquire the appearance of
genteel femininity, associated with those of higher status. The popular
framing of women’s tea practice presented in guides for women’s edifi-
cation further evidences the blurring of status boundaries, as described
in the previous chapter.

98
Guides for Cultivating Femininity99

Guides for Women’s Edification

With a substantial population of literate women and a thriving
commercial publishing industry in Japan by the mid-eighteenth century,
an extensive body of literature aimed at a female audience entered the
market. These included edification guides (jokun/jokunsho).2 These
guides shared many similarities with other genres of texts within the
same broad category of instructional books, such as “dictionaries”
(setsuyoshū); “illustrated encyclopedias” or “illustrated lexicons for the
ignorant” (kinmōzui); “treasuries” (chōhōki); and “primers” or “text-
books” (ōraimono).3 Such texts constituted a substantial part of the
print market by the early nineteenth century. Within this genre of in-
struction books or edification guides was a wide variety of texts aimed
at different audiences.4 Some discussed specific skills or cultural prac-
tices, such as calligraphy or letter writing, while others were of a more
encyclopedic nature. Often the groupings of subjects were made on the
basis of what was deemed relevant to the intended audience—for ex-
ample, newlyweds. The texts discussed in this chapter are of this type,
for they cover a range of skills, practices, and bits of common wisdom
packaged together for commoner women. Topics include letter writing,
etiquette, playing various musical instruments, and practicing tea cul-
ture. None of the topics are covered in great detail; only a few pages are
devoted to any one practice. Similar guides were available for men too,
but texts for women were differentiated by the tone of their content and
made extensive use of phonetic glossing for kanji, indicating a lower
level of literacy among their target audience.
An early example of such a guide is An Illustrated Encyclopedia
for Women (Onna yō kinmōzui, 1687), which visually depicts the arts
and skills of elite women. The reader is presented with illustrations of
“women’s tools” (onna kizai) such as screens; shamisen; games, like
sugoroku and go; implements used for hair and makeup; dishes; dolls
and other toys; types of vehicles, such as a palanquin; types of cloth-
ing; and tools used for spinning and weaving. Tea utensils (chanoyu
no gu) are also represented under the category of women’s tools (fig-
ure 4).5 Included here are a utensil stand set up with a cold water jar
on the bottom shelf (bottom right square), and various kinds of tea
containers and tea bowls (bottom left square). Simple descriptions
accompany the illustrations, with phonetic notation alongside the
kanji. The basic nature of the information makes it likely that the in-
tended audience is women who are unfamiliar with the objects and
have limited literacy.
Fig. 4. Illustrations of tea utensils. In An Illustrated Encyclopedia for Women.
1687. National Diet Library of Japan.
Plate 1. Actors Iwai Kumejirō as Young Lord Tsurukiyo (Tsurukiyo no kimi), Onoe
Baikō IV as Lady-in-Waiting (Tsubone) Masaoka, and Ichikawa Anpei as Her Son
(Isshi) Senmatsu. Utagawa Kunisada I (Toyokuni III). 1853. Tsubochi Memorial
Theatre Museum, item no. 100–7058.
Plate 2. Sugoroku of
Success as an Attendant
in Noble Service.
Toyokuni III. 1844–
1864. Edo-Tokyo
Museum, item no.
88208551.

Plate 3. Sugoroku of
Success in Artistic
Accomplishments for
Girls. Utagawa
Hiroshige I. 1843–
1847. Edo-Tokyo
Museum, item no.
96201945.
Guides for Cultivating Femininity101

From the 1750s, edification guides for women constituted their

own distinct genre.6 A large market was necessary to sustain such
guides, which were remarkably similar in content. Many guides were
reprinted multiple times, also suggesting enduring popularity and a
large market.7 (In fact, guides for women’s edification were so popu-
lar that they generated a spin-off genre of erotic parodies.8) Together
the edification guides formed what could be described as a canon of
“civilized knowledge.”9 As Martha Tocco argues, such texts “pro-
vided an element of commonality to women’s education at a time
when education was not standardized.”10 Women of all backgrounds
and in all regions could potentially access the same information
through reading. Moreover, as Peter Kornicki shows, conduct books
or edification guides could be among trousseau items, and individual
women may have made their own copies of published works in
­manuscript form.11
Rather than focusing on who read these books, how many
women read them, and how women interpreted the information
therein, our concern here is what these texts presented to the women
who were their primary audience. That is, the framing of why
women  should practice tea is of interest, not the degree to which
women were actually practicing tea. To become a tea practitioner
able to perform all or many of the procedures for making tea re-
quired more than just reading about tea in a book and seeing images
of tea utensils; it required face-to-face lessons with a teacher. The
guides discussed here should thus be taken as a reflection of the in-
formation presented to women and of the aspirations women held.
The information about tea presented an ideal. Women would have
interpreted and adapted it to suit their own situation.12 A woman
who read these guides may never have had the chance to participate
physically in tea culture, yet she may have internalized the attitudes
and values inherent in the text.
Morgan Pitelka has suggested that commercially published books
about arts such as tea culture “increased the attraction of joining a
school” because that brought “recognition of being an official practi-
tioner.”13 In the case of women, whether or not they went on to prac-
tice tea and join a school after reading the texts described here is not
something we can say on the basis of available evidence. Certainly,
from available evidence, it seems that the numbers of women who
were officially enrolled in tea schools was quite low throughout the
Edo period. It is more likely that women’s tea practice was conducted
102 Chapter 4

informally outside tea schools. This education may have taken place at
temple schools or in the homes of local women who were proficient
enough in tea to be teachers but were not licensed as such. As we saw
in the previous chapter, women could also learn tea while in service in
an elite household.
Guides for women’s edification were sources of information on
elite practices and tastes for aspirational commoner women, even
those who may not have been highly literate. The content of these
guides is indicative of a thirst for knowledge about the lifestyles of the
elite among commoner women, as well as the existence of a market
that catered to this by presenting upward social mobility as something
to aspire to—whether that be moving up within one’s current status
or, less common, moving to a higher status. As Joshua Mostow has
argued, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries there was an
“overwhelming desire by members of the warrior (buke) and towns-
man (chōnin) class for their daughters to acquire cultural capital as-
sociated with the aristocracy,” a desire that affected a number of
cultural spheres and the publishing industry.14 For example, “the abil-
ity to read and compose waka became a sine qua non,” and that led to
greater numbers of women wanting to read classical texts such as The
Tale of Genji (Genji monogatari) and The Tales of Ise (Ise monogatari)
because familiarity with such texts was requisite knowledge for com-
posing waka.15 This in turn led to a rise in the number of illustrated
printed editions of such texts aimed at a female readership being pub-
lished, and a decrease in scholarly debates about the acceptability of
women reading such texts.16 The cultural capital of aristocratic
women in the Edo period included tea culture, as well as knowledge
of classical texts, as exemplified by the tea practice of imperial women
such as Tōfukumon’in Masako (1607–1678) and Shinanomiya
Tsuneko (1642–1702).
The guide Essential Knowledge for Women’s Prosperity and Lon-
gevity (Joyō fukuju-dai, 1774, 1785), by Takada Seibe’e, typifies the
style and intent of eighteenth-century guides for women’s edification.
As the title suggests, it is billed as a collection of essential knowledge
for women. It covers topics such as marriage and protocol for the
wedding ceremony, along with appropriate gifts for a wedding and
how to present them. It also gives advice on how to blacken one’s
teeth, a symbol of beauty and refinement in premodern Japan. There
is a table on yamato kotoba (native Japanese words), which gives ex-
amples of classical and elegant words for everyday things such as wa-
Guides for Cultivating Femininity103

ter, miso, tofu, walking, children, and money. Essential Knowledge

explains how to participate in a range of artistic and cultural pur-
suits, such as how to compose waka poetry.17 The section on tea
­culture consists of several pages of explanation and illustrations. The
range of subjects clearly indicates that Essential Knowledge was a
handbook for those aspiring “to belong to and succeed among the
dominant class.”18 As Jorge Arditi has said of European etiquette
books, they “are not written for the dominant classes, for whom
knowledge of the infrastructure comes naturally.”19 The early modern
Japanese guides were, similarly, for women aspiring to be part of the
elite. Elite women would have learned a classical vocabulary, how to
blacken their teeth, and wedding protocol as part of their upbringing
and therefore had little need for such texts. Through a “civilizing pro-
cess,” such elite knowledge spread from the court aristocracy, down
to the warrior aristocracy, and eventually to commoners through
guides such as Essential Knowledge.

Essential Knowledge of Tea Culture

The section on tea culture in Essential Knowledge begins with an
introduction covering the seasons and types of tea procedures, and it
encourages the study of tea through practice rather than from books
alone. We get a sense of the popularity that tea had gained by the late
eighteenth century when the author says that “these days everyone is
enjoying tea, so it is good to learn at least how to drink it,” a statement
echoed in later guides.20 The text then goes on to describe briefly the
manner for drinking thick tea before commenting that it is necessary
for both host and guest to know about the procedures for making tea.
The pages that follow have extensive illustrations of tea utensils, “for
the benefit of beginners,” and list the name of each item and the mate-
rial it is made from.21 The upper register of each page has brief expla-
nations of general etiquette related to tea culture, such as manners for
washing hands, how to open and close the sliding doors, how to drink
thick tea, how to return the bowl to the host, incense appreciation
(which can be part of a tea gathering), and letter writing (for invita-
tions and letters of thanks). The reader could thus get a sense of what
tea culture involved, before possibly going on to study it in greater
depth. The illustrations gave readers who did not have access to the
actual objects or the means to acquire them the chance to imagine
what such items looked like and to have basic knowledge about them.
104 Chapter 4

Figures 5 and 6, for example, illustrate an assortment of tea utensils.

Each item’s name is written next to it, with brief explanatory informa-
tion in some cases. Should a reader ever be in a position to view, use,
or even purchase tea utensils, this information would be of great help.
In Figure 5, we see the kettle, brazier, and basket for charcoal, among
other items. In Figure 6, we see the cold water jar, differently shaped
tea bowls, the small cloth for wiping a tea bowl, a tea scoop, a whisk,
and several types of tea containers.
In Essential Knowledge, as in A Woman’s Handbook, utensil stands
are front and center for women’s tea practice. The first page of utensil
illustrations is a diagram of how the utensils are arranged on a stand
(figure 7).22 The setup here shows a tea container and a tea bowl with
whisk and tea scoop on the top shelf of the stand. On the base is a cold

Fig. 5. Illustrations of tea utensils. In Essential Knowledge for Women’s Pros-

perity and Longevity. 1774, 1785. Ōzorasha Publishing.
Guides for Cultivating Femininity105

Fig. 6. Illustrations of tea utensils. In Essential Knowledge for Women’s Pros-

perity and Longevity. 1774, 1785. Ōzorasha Publishing.

water jar, a container holding the chopsticks for lifting charcoal and a
ladle for scooping water, and the kettle for boiling water atop a brazier.
The text running alongside this image instructs readers that “if a woman
is going to place a utensil stand in her room, there are black lacquer or
vermilion lacquer varieties [that should be used].”23 This further rein-
forces the association between utensil stands and women’s tea practice
because having a stand allowed the female host to arrange the utensils
on it before the guests entered the tearoom, rather than having to carry
in each utensil as part of the procedure. One of the varieties of lacquer
recommended in Essential Knowledge, vermilion, is the type that was de-
signed for Empress Tōfukumon’in by the tea master Sen Sōtan. Thus, the
guide was holding up an elite female tea practitioner like Tōfukumon’in
as a model for other women to emulate, with the vermillion utensil
stand, in particular, being associated with her.
106 Chapter 4

Fig. 7. Arrangement of tea utensils on a stand. In Essential Knowledge for Wom-

en’s Prosperity and Longevity. 1774, 1785. Ōzorasha Publishing.

It is clear that with the growing popularity of tea came a desire for
this kind of basic information to be available in printed form. By the
1840s the New Enlarged Edition of the Brocade of Women’s Manners
(Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki, 1841) commented, “Recently, many de-
tailed books about customs, such as tea etiquette [charei], are being pub-
lished.”24 The author describes a recent change in the rules of serving
thick tea, from the “orthodox way of one bowl per person” to “one bowl
for everyone.” Though the author himself disapproves of this new way,
he acknowledges that “this is the latest fashion, so it is also accepted as
Guides for Cultivating Femininity107

one of the proper ways.”25 Such explanations of new developments in

tea procedures would be useful for the novice and the more experienced
practitioner alike. Both popular tea texts and private tea texts produced
by tea masters had been available since the seventeenth century, but the
market they aimed at was different from the targeted market for guides
for women’s edification. Women who read a guide such as New Brocade
of Women’s Manners may have wanted to get a sense of what was en-
tailed before beginning formal study under a teacher, which, as Essential
Knowledge suggested, was really the best way to learn. The author of
New Brocade of Women’s Manners claimed that the information it con-
tained (which was very similar to that in Essential Knowledge) was
enough for a woman who had not learned tea.26 Rather than being inter-
ested in devoting themselves to tea practice, some readers may simply
have wanted to gain a sufficient grasp of the procedures and utensils in-
volved so as to be able to participate should they be invited to a tea
gathering. One guide stated that information on tea culture was being
presented “because tea has become extremely popular.”27
Tea, as an art of interaction among people, requires the partici-
pants to possess “cultural competence” in order to derive meaning from
the experience—they need to be able to read “the code.”28 A participant
who does not have this competence will “feel lost” and will therefore be
unable to interact with the other participants in a meaningful way. Ac-
cording to A Woman’s Handbook, a lack of experience in tea could lead
to an uncomfortable situation if one was invited to a tea gathering at
which experienced practitioners were also to be guests. In such cases
people might even pretend to be sick because they felt embarrassed.29 By
the mid-nineteenth century the situation was such that the author of
New Brocade of Women’s Manners stated, “Tea has become very popular,
so if you don’t know the rules, you cannot interact with people.”30 Tea
was a vehicle for social interaction, and women were being warned not
to let an opportunity pass them by because they lacked appropriate
knowledge. By the late eighteenth century, knowledge of tea had become
part of a shared grammar of comportment and etiquette that extended
to commoner men and women. Having a basic understanding of tea
culture was necessary for participating in social life, and the guides pro-
vided precisely this.
Tea culture was also a vehicle for learning manners and etiquette in
general, because tea culture encompasses far more than just drinking a
beverage—through studying tea, one learns how to open and close slid-
ing doors, to sit and stand, to walk gracefully. Commoner women were
108 Chapter 4

being swept up in the civilizing process, with guides for women’s edifica-
tion and tea culture providing them with the tools to conduct themselves
in a “civilized” manner. Thus, within their section on tea culture, guides
like Essential Knowledge and New Brocade of Women’s Manners ­describe
procedures such as how to use a fan, how to bow when sitting, and how
to open and close sliding doors and screens.31 On this last subject, for
instance, Essential Knowledge gives the reader this instruction for sliding
doors: “Putting your left knee on the floor, with your right knee raised up,
place your hands on the wood at the base of the door and slide.”32
Civilized standards for eating were also outlined in these guides, as
they had been in A Woman’s Handbook. New Brocade of Women’s Man­
ners, for example, explains how to drink the hot water served during the
kaiseki meal: “Holding the chopsticks in your right hand, place that
hand on your knee, then drink.”33 In the same guide, the reader learns
the correct way for eating rice softened with hot water and rice gruel:
“First drink your soup; it is best not to pour the soup over the rice gruel.
You should not leave of any of this unfinished.”34 In a separate section
from that on tea culture, Essential Knowledge details the manners for
washing one’s hands, asking for seconds of soup, cutting fish, and serv-
ing steamed buns with filling to children (“Put some paper down, cut it
into three pieces, give them one piece, then a second, and leave the last
piece as it is”).35 Actions like opening and closing a door, washing one’s
hands, and eating can be done without reading how to do so, but there
is a correct and elegant way to perform these quotidian actions that
marks one as refined and genteel. This is what the guides presented to
commoner women, and what studying tea could teach them.
Knowledge of tea culture was, of course, essential not only for
women but also for men in the Edo period. As Essential Knowledge put
it, “Both men and women should have knowledge of tea.”36 Texts aimed
at a male audience, such as The Gentleman’s Treasury (Nan chōhōki
[Otoko chōhōki], 1693), explained the procedures for making and drink-
ing tea in the manner of chanoyu, without giving reasons why one must
study tea or expounding the benefits of doing so.37 The ­Gentleman’s
Treasury was aimed primarily at a warrior (bushi) audience, and this
may be why it presumed that its readers understood that they needed to
be familiar with tea culture. Even texts aimed at a male commoner audi-
ence presented tea culture and related activities without comment on
why such study was necessary. For example, guides for men included
basic instructions for the correct way to open and close a sliding door,
just as guides for women did.38 Yet, inherent in all writings aimed at a
Guides for Cultivating Femininity109

female audience is a relentless instrumentality that is not present in texts

aimed at men. Women needed to study tea for a reason. Such study had
to have some practical benefit that justified why they should engage in it.
That women should learn the basics of tea culture was not taken as a
given, as it was for men, nor were women encouraged to know any
more than the basics. It was tea, but not for tea’s sake.
The section on “women’s arts” in Poetry Recitation for Women’s
Learning (Onna rōei kyōkunka, 1753) outlines three core aspects of the
popular framework for women’s tea practice. The text above an image
of a woman making tea for two female guests (figure 8) states:

There are many schools of tea and it seems to be difficult but women
should learn at least how to do the procedures for making thin tea.
They should also understand the greetings and method for the thick
tea service. Even the so-called lowliest of the low women who may
enter into service [in an elite household] should study tea; if you have
some knowledge of tea your movements will become graceful.39

Fig. 8. Women’s arts. In Poetry Recitation for Women’s Learning. 1753.

Ōzorasha Publishing.
110 Chapter 4

First, women are being encouraged to learn only a small portion of

tea procedures, those that are of the most basic and informal type known
for making thin tea. Second, the text implies that women who want to
be part of “proper” society should study tea; it is promoted as an activ-
ity through which women can become graceful. Third, Poetry Recitation
for Women’s Learning links learning tea with the potential for women to
enter into service in an elite household, a notion also found in other
guides.40 In alluding to this possibility, the text is appealing to women’s
aspirations to better themselves and improve their social standing
through service in an elite household. Tea was an activity through which
a woman could display that she was cultured and accomplished.

Learning the Basics

Many guides concur with Poetry Recitation for Women’s Learning
that women need only know the basics of tea practice, consisting of the
procedures for making thin tea and how to be a guest for the thick tea
service. Bookmark of One Hundred Beautiful Poems by One Hundred Po-
ets (Shūgyoku hyakunin isshu ogura shiori, 1836), for example, concurs
on this point: “Women, many of whom may enter into service, should at
least study a little and, even without knowing the inmost secret teach-
ings, learn up to the level of the procedures for making thin tea. They
should have general knowledge of the methods for greetings in the thick
tea service.”41 Women’s Multiplication Voices (Onna kuku no koe, 1787)
expresses the sentiment most strongly: “It can be said that it is not im-
proper for men to enter the path of tea; the same cannot be said for
women. Yet, for women to know nothing is not to be recommended;
they should at least know a little. . . . [W]hen you have free time, study
chanoyu, but women should not become immersed in it.”42 Accompany-
ing this text, in the upper register, are two images of women engaging in
tea practice (figure 9). At the top left, a woman prepares tea for two fe-
male guests in the winter style. In the lower register, a woman uses a
utensil stand as she prepares tea for one female guest. Incidentally, this
“­information on tea” is attached to the multiplication equation
“3 × 7 = 21.” This unusual combination of subjects indicates that essen-
tial knowledge for women included mathematics, a skill particularly
useful for commoners from merchant households who may have had to
help run the family business.43
The authors of edification all agreed that women should know the
basics of tea culture and that the basics were enough knowledge (for a
Fig. 9. Information on tea. In Women’s Multiplication Voices. 1787. Ōzorasha
Publishing.
112 Chapter 4

woman). The intention, at least in the eyes of those writing about it, was
for women to learn etiquette and deportment. There was no need for
women to go further into the study of tea—by mastering the thick tea
procedures, for example—because these aspects could be learned with-
out formal study. In the edification guides, no spiritual or moral motiva-
tion, which would require a deeper level of practice, was conceived for
women’s tea. Rather, the main reasons presented for why women should
study tea were that they would become graceful, which in turn would be
useful preparation for going into service in an elite household.
This somewhat ambivalent attitude to women’s tea practice may
suggest that the authors were trying to come to grips with a new social
phenomenon of increasing participation in tea by women. The didactic
tone of the statement “When you have free time, study chanoyu, but
women should not become immersed in it” suggests that there may well
have been women who were becoming too immersed in the world of tea,
at least for the author’s liking. In a similar vein, the “guide to women’s tea”
in Compendium of a Small Library for Women’s Education (Jokyō taizen
himebunko, 1776) begins by saying: “Chanoyu is a path of correct customs
in human relations. Women’s tea should not appear to be too detailed; it
should not be sharp or rough.”44 That is to say, women’s tea should be
smooth and simple, with the implication that women’s knowledge of tea
should be general, not deep and thorough. This sentiment resembles that
expressed in A Woman’s Handbook. The authors of both Essential Knowl-
edge and New Brocade of Women’s Manners also caution against women
going too far into the study of tea of their own accord, stating that a mar-
ried woman should not learn that which her husband does not learn or
enjoy.45 Indeed, according to New Brocade of Women’s Manners, a woman
should always put her duties as a daughter and wife before enjoyment of
arts such as tea.46 All of this may simply have been empty rhetoric, designed
to placate voices of opposition who held a more conservative view. The
similarities with the position Ōguchi Shōō found himself in are apparent—
wanting to encourage women’s tea practice on the one hand, but not want-
ing to be seen as inciting immoral or socially disruptive behavior on the
other. Or the notion that women’s tea practice should be limited in scope
and content may have been a widely held opinion.
Encouraging women to learn tea within limits might also be a re-
flection of the regulatory nature of Tokugawa government, which
­sporadically sought to reduce what it deemed to be extravagance and
the frivolous pursuit of enjoyment through leisure activities. For ex-
ample, in the 1830s the daimyo of the Mito domain (present-day
Guides for Cultivating Femininity113

Ibaraki ­Prefecture), Tokugawa Nariaki (1800–1860), banned samurai

girls from engaging in the practice of tea, as well as flower arrangement
and playing the koto.47 This prohibition was part of a wide-ranging
reform program aimed at restoring the spirit and morale of the do-
main’s samurai. Tea was targeted along with other activities regarded
as “frivolous or extravagant,” a strong contrast with the philosophy of
tea culture espoused by Ii Naosuke described previously.48 The wider
intellectual climate also discouraged women from becoming too deeply
involved in specific activities. The thoughts of female writer Tadano
Makuzu reflect such an ideology. She suggested that if a “weak-minded
woman” focuses her attention on one thing, “she will neglect others,
and the housework will suffer”; and she declared, “It is better for a
woman who will become a wife not to study things too deeply.”49 In
such a climate the authors of edification guides may well have felt that
they could not wholeheartedly encourage women to pursue the study
of tea, lest they be considered to be encouraging women to neglect their
duties as wives and daughters and indulge in frivolity instead. The au-
thor of New Brocade of Women’s Manners seems to have been particu-
larly wary of attracting such criticism, warning women that if they
neglect their duty as a daughter or wife in favor of learning arts, “it
would be as if you had learned no arts.” Conversely, he claims that a
woman who has learned no arts and has no special talents, but who is
respectful to her parents and faithful to her husband, cannot be called
inferior to the woman who has learned many arts. Only then, and “only
because it is so popular,” does the author give instructions on how to
drink tea in the manner of chanoyu.50
The categorization of tea as a frivolous activity may seem at odds
with the assertion that it was a skill associated with well-bred women.
Yet the popularization of arts such as tea, which occurred because of
their association with elite culture, gradually led to the debasement of
their image. When what was once a socially exclusive practice becomes
ubiquitous and open to all classes and genders, it can lose some of its
appeal. A member of the village elite in Edo-period Japan learned this
only too well when he turned his back on haikai poetry in favor of the
more aristocratic waka form, once it became so popular that “even
women, children, and lowlifes” became involved.51 Opting out for a less
popular pastime may have been an option for those who were firmly
entrenched in the elite and familiar with the activity in question. For
those aspiring to heighten their status, however, it was not a matter of
choice. Once something becomes so popular that “everyone” is doing it,
114 Chapter 4

those who do not become conspicuous by their absence. This was likely
the case with tea culture in the latter part of the Edo period; hence, its
popularity continued to grow, while at the same time it lost some of its
aura of exclusivity. By the late eighteenth century, knowledge of tea
­culture had become indispensable for any woman wanting to present
herself as cultured, well-bred, and up-to-date.
While most guides suggest that women should focus on learning
thin tea procedures, and in some cases explicitly state that women do
not need to know more, several do include significant discussion of thick
tea procedures. Edification guides with lengthy discussions of tea cul-
ture, such as Essential Knowledge and New Brocade of Women’s Manners,
feature numerous illustrations of tea utensils, including those used for
thick tea. Essential Knowledge also explains the thick tea procedures.52
So does Compendium of a Small Library, which gives a detailed, step-by-
step description of a winter-style thick tea procedure under the heading
“guide to women’s tea.”53 New Brocade of Women’s Manners also pres-
ents information on aspects of tea culture that went beyond what was
required to perform the thin tea procedures and be a guest for the thick
tea service—from how to lay the charcoal, for example, to how to roll
up and tie a knot on the hanging scroll that is displayed in the alcove
during a tea gathering.54 This information would still have been relevant
for women learning to be a guest and does not necessarily indicate en-
couragement of women to learn to perform the thick tea procedures or
become deeply involved in tea culture. Nevertheless, it may indicate that
a demand among women for information about all aspects of tea, in-
cluding the thick tea procedures and the various aspects of hosting a
gathering, even if such knowledge was not deemed essential.

Becoming Graceful
Poetry Recitation for Women’s Learning clearly states that a primary
reason for women to study tea is that they will learn to be graceful. This
is a recurring theme in guides for women’s edification, as it was in A
Woman’s Handbook. The reader of Bookmark of One Hundred Beautiful
Poems is told that by “studying this path [of tea], how to stand, and sit,
and how to use all of the utensils gracefully, you may become genteel in
appearance.”55 If she reads Poetry Recitation for Women’s Learning, she is
told, “If you have some knowledge of tea, your movements will become
graceful.”56 Given that this is a primary reason presented for why women
should learn tea, studying the thin tea procedures alone would suffice,
Guides for Cultivating Femininity115

because all the basic body movements can be learned through the han-
dling of utensils in these procedures.
The purpose of learning to be graceful was not primarily to per-
form an attractive temae. Rather, learning tea was a way of learning to
control the body so as to move gracefully with ease in both the tearoom
and beyond. The process of constant repetition of specific physical move-
ments was common to many arts in early modern Japan. Its ultimate
purpose was “internalization of the technique in question as second na-
ture.”57 This was the process at work in tea; hence the connection made
between handling of utensils and graceful appearance in Bookmark of
One Hundred Beautiful Poems. Through learning tea, a woman could be
confident that she would be able to behave appropriately in all social
situations that required her to be graceful, especially interactions with
social superiors. Once internalized, the repetition of these movements
and acts ceases to be a conscious performance and becomes instead a
natural part of one’s bearing. It is in this respect that the instructions for
opening and closing doors and for eating in a polite, refined way took on
particular importance. Women’s bodies were being trained, through the
study of tea, to be graceful at all times. This links the discourse on wom-
en’s tea in these early modern guides to the “temae as sahō” discourse—
that is, a discourse in which learning the procedures for making tea
(temae) is a way of learning etiquette (sahō)—which Etsuko Kato has
identified as a major trend in twentieth-century Japan.58
Appearance, in the form of clothing, manners, etiquette, and de-
portment, was a very public indicator of social status in the Edo pe-
riod.59 The importance placed on a woman’s appearance is evident in a
comment made by kabuki actor Yoshizawa when describing how a fe-
male role specialist should portray an ideal samurai woman: “It is unbe-
coming for the wife of a samurai, for example, to be stiff and awkward.”60
That is to say, a samurai wife should be graceful in her movements and
therefore not appear vulgar or of commoner status. On the one hand,
samurai women had to ensure that they maintained the appearance of
elite status, even if their wealth was being outstripped by that of com-
moner families. Wealthy commoner women, on the other hand, substi-
tuted the appearance of being elite, through their clothing and carriage,
in lieu of having the official status.
With the spread of elite culture to the broader population, the edu-
cation of an aristocratic or samurai woman was available even to a
commoner from the provinces if her family was wealthy enough. ­Yoshida
Ito (b. 1824), the daughter of a provincial artisan family, began her f­ ormal
116 Chapter 4

education at a local school from age eight, among other students rang-
ing in age from eight to fourteen, both boys and girls.61 At this school
she studied subjects such as etiquette, manners, and poetry, and she
practiced reading the iroha poem,62 a range of textbooks, and the
Kokinshū, an Imperial poetry anthology from the Heian period. Ito’s
education in her youth was filled with learning etiquette and deport-
ment (which likely included studying tea), as well as poetry and the writ-
ing of Japanese characters. Her education paralleled the education and
lifestyle of the women’s quarters at the shogun’s palace in Edo.63 Then,
in 1838, fifteen-year-old Ito went to Edo to further her learning of,
among other things, women’s arts, studying under the National Learning
scholar Tachibana Moribe (1781–1849).64 Her education under Moribe
included keeping a journal and studying poetry, arts (such as koto,
shamisen, calligraphy, and flower arrangement), and practical skills such
as sewing and housekeeping. We know from her letters that Ito studied
tea diligently with the wife of a temple priest and was an enthusiastic
student who enjoyed her lessons thoroughly.65 We can assume that the
role of tea in this education program was that it inculcated the attributes
of a well-bred woman, such as how to move gracefully. Ito may have
been a provincial commoner, but that did not stop her learning the ac-
complishments of an aristocratic or samurai woman raised in the impe-
rial capital of Kyoto or a large daimyo household.
In addition to acquiring gracefulness, another, more practical reason
why a woman in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries would have
studied tea is outlined in Four Pictorial Books for Women (Onna shisho
geibun zue, 1835). This guide stated that a wife must always be ready to
receive a guest or guests of her husband, serve them tea, and then, watch-
ing and anticipating what they may need, serve them a meal.66 The impli-
cation, as in the story of Keikyō in A Woman’s Handbook, is that a good
wife should have knowledge of tea and always be prepared to put that
knowledge to use when necessary. The picture accompanying the text
shows a woman in a back room making tea according to the established
procedures, while her husband and his guest are having a discussion in the
front room (figure 10). In this case, the household is of samurai status,
though we can assume that in wealthy commoner households the same
etiquette may have been followed. One area outside the tearoom in which
women could display their skills was in the home, assisting their husbands
by playing an integral behind-the-scenes role in hosting guests. Through
the wife’s physical act of temae, symbolizing her acquisition of symbolic-
cultural capital, the household’s accumulation of economic capital could
Guides for Cultivating Femininity117

Fig. 10. A wife making tea for her husband and his guest. In Four Pictorial Books
for Women, 1835. Ōzorasha Publishing.

thus be displayed—perhaps not to the husband’s guest in the next room

but certainly to the viewer of the picture.
Another type of text within the category of guides for women’s edi-
fication was catalogs of bridal trousseau items. An example of such a text
is Illustrated Collection of Bridal Trousseau Items (Konrei dōgu zushū, ca.
1790).67 The bridal trousseaus of elite women, as well as those for the
debut of a courtesan, often included tea utensils. In a guide like Illustrated
Collection of Bridal Trousseau Items, commoner women could see exten-
sive illustrations of these items. For the category of tea utensils alone,
some forty-five pages cover items ranging from utensil stands to tea
bowls, cold water jars, and tea caddies.68 This guide, then, was a refer-
ence book for commoner women that informed them of what to aspire to
in terms of material possessions, whereas other guides that included this
information focused more specifically on cultivating physical appearance.
Combined with written information and the illustrations in other guides,
Illustrated Collection of Bridal Trousseau Items gave a commoner woman
all the information she would need to equip herself, or possibly her
daughter, with the accouterments of genteel femininity.
118 Chapter 4

In presenting tea as a way of learning to be graceful, edification

guides were appealing to commoner women’s aspirations to acquire
genteel femininity. In the Edo period, femininity was understood, as in
many societies, not as something that a woman naturally possessed by
the mere fact of inhabiting a female body. Rather, femininity needed to
be cultivated. Moreover, there was no single, monolithic concept of fem-
ininity. Instead it was tied to status, resulting in different types and de-
grees of femininity.69 Genteel femininity was one type of femininity.
Though once cultivated exclusively by women of elite status, it gradu-
ally came to be the model to which wealthy commoner women also as-
pired. As Beverly Skeggs has argued, gender, when symbolically
legitimated via class, can become a form of cultural capital.70 In this
way, genteel femininity became a form of symbolic-cultural capital in
itself in the Edo period.
In relation to women in particular, sociologist Pierre Bourdieu has
noted that they play the role of capital-bearing objects. They are reposi-
tories of the value and capital accrued by men.71 In Bourdieu’s analysis,
“women . . . play the lead role in converting economic capital into sym-
bolic capital for their families through the display of cultural taste.”72 In
considering the lavish displays of fashion by wealthy commoner women
in what often amounted to “fashion contests” in late seventeenth- and
early eighteenth-century Japan, we can see an example of women serv-
ing as capital-bearing objects.73 An extreme example of this was the wife
of a wealthy Edo merchant, Ishikawa Rokubei. Dressed elaborately and
accompanied by attendants, she watched the shogun’s procession in
1681 from a room overlooking the street, as if “showing off her tasteful
dress to the shogun.”74 The shogun subsequently confiscated the family’s
property as punishment for the crimes of pride and extravagance.75
Ishikawa’s wife was displaying the economic capital of her husband
through her actions and dress. The shogun was so offended precisely
because this display showed the extent of the capital accumulation of
merchants, with which many daimyo, and especially lesser samurai,
could not compete. Similarly, women’s bodies themselves could serve as
capital-bearing objects. When a commoner woman moved with the
grace and refinement usually associated with a samurai or court woman,
she displayed her cultivation of genteel femininity. Tea, with its focus on
the physical movements of walking, sitting, bowing, and handling of
utensils, was a particularly suitable method of cultivation. Whether or
not a woman could actually climb the social ladder through marriage,
she could at the very least assume the appearance of higher status.
Guides for Cultivating Femininity119

While Bourdieu’s work helps us understand women’s roles as

capital-­bearing objects in the Edo period, it is important to note that
his work has been criticized by feminist scholars for seeing women only
as capital-bearing objects and not as subjects who could accumulate
capital in their own right.76 At the same time, these scholars acknowl-
edge that “it is not always easy to distinguish the difference between
women’s ‘capital accumulating strategies’ and the use of women by
others as bearers of capital value for their families and kin.”77 In the
case of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Japan, it is difficult to deter-
mine whether women were choosing to study tea of their own accord,
for their own benefit, or whether they were encouraged to do so by
their family for the benefit of others, particularly male family members.
Most likely, it was never one or the other but a combination of both.
Whatever the motivations were, female tea practitioners were accruing
symbolic and cultural capital through their study of this art. That this
served to enhance both their prestige and that of their families can be
of no doubt.78 According to Kato, women in post–World War II Japan
have used the symbolic-cultural capital accrued through their study of
tea “as a means of equilibrating themselves with, and at once defying,
the economic and cultural (educational) capital unequally distributed
to men—especially to their male family members.”79 In contrast,
women in the Edo period, through their acquisition of this symbolic-
cultural capital, appear to have been elevating themselves, not in rela-
tion to men, but in relation to other women who were their social
superiors. It was a capital accumulation strategy aimed at bridging a
status gap rather than a gender gap.

Displaying Civility
Economic growth led to an increasing number of women having
access to education and leisure time, prerequisites for engaging in cul-
tural practices like tea. Sections on tea culture in guides for women’s
edification evidence the popularization and commercialization of tea, as
a refined cultural practice spread beyond a small elite to new social
groups, including commoner women. This process was similar to the
way in which works of court literature such as The Tale of Genji and The
Tales of Ise came to be accepted as works valuable for commoner/non-
elite women to read.80 The spread of tea culture to commoner women
was occurring at the same time that the large schools of tea, such as the
Sen schools, were putting in place systems to develop greater control
120 Chapter 4

over tea culture and to benefit from its popularization. Sections on tea
culture in edification guides betray no hint of tea school involvement,
however. They do not advocate any particular tea schools for women to
study in. In fact, many guides suggest that their section on tea culture
alone will provide all of the necessary information for a woman to be-
come knowledgeable in tea culture. This suggests that the populariza-
tion of tea culture among women was occurring despite the emergence
of the iemoto system, and that women were becoming participants in tea
culture without officially joining a tea school.
At the same time that tea culture was popularized among com-
moner women, genteel femininity became a form of symbolic-cultural
capital in itself, and knowledge of tea was one component of this model
of femininity. Through edification guides, this model was held up for
commoner women to emulate. Tea thus became “essential knowledge”
for all women wanting to insinuate themselves into “proper” society in
eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Japan. It was no longer just an ac-
complishment for elite women of the court and military aristocracy.
The reasons presented to women for studying tea, as well as the
limited range of tea practice recommended for women, indicate that the
purpose of women’s tea practice, as conceived in edification guides, was
to learn etiquette and deportment. Thus, what Kato calls the temae as
sahō discourse can actually be seen to have earlier roots than the period
of Westernization and nationalism in the late nineteenth and early twen-
tieth centuries, when Kato argues it was developed.81 In the eighteenth
and nineteenth centuries, the “nondominant group” using tea “to obtain
symbolic-cultural capital” was not women as a whole but lower-status
women who were aiming to “equilibrate” themselves with higher-status
women. To reiterate an earlier point, it was a capital accumulation strat-
egy aimed at a bridging a status gap rather than a gender gap.
The development of women’s tea practice in the eighteenth and
nineteenth centuries is therefore less a reflection of changing gender
norms or ideology than it is a reflection of the commercialization and
popularization of tea culture. The spread of writings on women’s tea
practice—from A Woman’s Handbook, which was specifically addressed
to women of the imperial and military aristocracy, to guides for wom-
en’s edification aimed at wealthy commoners—reflects this trend. More
broadly, this development can be described as part of a “civilizing pro-
cess” whereby norms of social behavior and appearance, particularly
comportment and manners, were disseminated from the elite to wealthy
commoners, or from the upper class to the middle class. “Civility” was
Guides for Cultivating Femininity121

part of “the equation of common learning.”82 The body was one site for
this civilizing process, and women’s bodies in particular could serve as
capital-bearing objects that displayed both their individual acquisition
of civility and that of their families. By the late Edo period, then, writ-
ings on tea practice for women contained all of the ideas we have come
to associate with the modern (post-Edo-period) discourse on tea prac-
tice for women.
 Chapter 5

Guides for Modern Life

O
ver the course of the Meiji period (1868–1912), tea
­culture became reinvented as traditional, Japanese, and
feminine. New reasons for why women should practice
tea appeared. The extent and nature of this change become clear only
when we view the Meiji period in a wider frame that includes the pre-
ceding Edo period.1 In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, height-
ening one’s status was a desired outcome of learning tea for women of
lower samurai and commoner status. In the Meiji period, status took
on a new meaning, as the Tokugawa status system was abolished and
as changing values ascribed even more importance to the accumula-
tion of wealth through entrepreneurial activity. There was a new and
growing middle class who were upwardly mobile and aspired to ac-
quire some of the values, tastes, and modes of behavior of the old
court and warrior elite, while at the same time combining them with
modern values and tastes.
Guides for women’s edification continued to play to women’s aspi-
rations to acquire genteel femininity—a genteel femininity that was spe-
cifically branded Japanese. In a social context of modernization and
national identity-making, edification guides presented tea practice to
women as a way of creating a harmonious home, a form of self-­
cultivation, and an occupation (as a tea teacher). Popular writings linked
learning tea with modern, rational values, particularly for women of the
lower classes. For example, learning tea was linked with efficient house-
hold management.

Situating Tea Culture in Meiji Japan

At the end of the nineteenth century, Japan began a rapid transi-
tion to a modern nation-state. The Meiji Restoration of 1868 installed
the emperor as the head of a new political structure, replacing the

122
Guides for Modern Life123

­ revious system of government that split rule between the shogun and
p
daimyo. This political revolution ushered in a raft of changes at all lev-
els of society. It is important to understand these changes, and the cul-
tural policies and politics of the Meiji period, in order to contextualize
the history of tea culture at this time. In 1871 the domains that gov-
erned the Tokugawa polity were abolished, and prefectures established
in their place. The status system established by the Tokugawa shogu-
nate was officially dismantled in 1872. A new aristocracy now included
the upper strata of former samurai. The commoner class expanded,
with many lower-ranking former samurai joining that class, as did for-
mer outcastes (eta and hinin), who were now raised to commoner sta-
tus.2 Former samurai also lost their stipends after conscription was
introduced in the 1870s, along with any suggestion that they performed
a military function. Whereas status had been a key organizing principle
of Tokugawa society, in Meiji Japan almost all members of society were
now on equal footing legally as imperial subjects. Nonetheless, status in
the sense of how others in society perceive a person and that person’s
standing relative to others remained important. This was relevant for
tea culture, which maintained its connection to elite society and values,
so that even those of lower socioeconomic status who participated ben-
efited from this association.
The cornerstone of Meiji social and cultural policy was “civiliza-
tion and enlightenment” (bunmei kaika), with Western norms being the
standard by which these were measured. Markers of samurai difference
that smacked of the old era, such as the wearing of swords and topknots
by men, fell out of favor and were eventually proscribed. Women
stopped blackening their teeth and shaving their eyebrows, with Em-
press Haruko (1849–1914; also known as Shōken) leading the way in
giving up these customs. Education was a key part of the drive for civili-
zation and enlightenment. In 1872, sixteen months of compulsory edu-
cation was introduced, and in 1886 this education requirement was
extended to four years. These reforms had a significant impact on op-
portunities for girls in particular, yet it is clear that education for girls in
Meiji Japan was built on foundations laid in the Edo period.3
The aim for girls’ education was to prepare them for their roles as
“good wives and wise mothers” (ryōsai kenbo), another key ideology of
the Meiji state that gained currency from the 1890s. A curriculum ori-
ented around this ideology found its way into primary schools and,
from 1899, into girls’ higher schools, which were established in every
prefecture.4 In reality, this was an ideal only for middle- and upper-class
124 Chapter 5

women, because women’s education and roles were defined according

to class. Lower-class women in both urban and rural areas were ex-
pected to work and contribute to the newly industrialized economy. For
the aspirational middle class, no longer bound by an official status sys-
tem, “good wife, wise mother” became the new model of genteel femi-
ninity to be emulated, where once the model was court and warrior
aristocratic women.
A typical example of good-wife, wise-mother ideology put into
practice can be found in the aims stated by the Chiba Prefectural Girls’
High School in 1900: “Training in the qualities of grace and nobility
together with the knowledge in the skills of arts and sciences necessary
for life, as well as the cultivation of the virtues of gentleness and femi-
nine modesty and imparting the good customs of diligence and economy
in order to one day become good wives and wise mothers.”5 As the first
education minister, Mori Arinori (1847–1889), explained, there was a
clear link between the development of good wives and wise mothers and
“national tranquility.”6 Women bore the responsibility of creating har-
monious homes and thereby ensuring tranquility in the nation, for the
home was considered the foundation on which the nation was built.7 In
contrast to Western countries at the time, the home in Japan was under-
stood as belonging to the public, rather than private, sphere.8 We will
see below how these ideas about women’s roles in the home figured in
popular discourses on tea culture in Meiji Japan.
Good-wife, wise-mother ideology had much in common with Edo-
period notions of femininity for women of samurai and upper com-
moner status. It is no coincidence that such traits were part of public
discourse from the 1890s, for the preceding decade had seen a shift in
state and public thinking about the place of Japanese culture and values
in this new, modern society. The early years of the Meiji period saw a
turn toward Western customs, values, and cultural practices, but from
the 1880s (or what is often described as “mid-Meiji”), a more nuanced
and complex discussion emerged around the question of Japanese iden-
tity. The contrast between the outward-looking view espoused in the
Imperial Charter Oath of 1868, which “discarded” the “evil practices of
the past,” and the 1890 Imperial Rescript on Education, which rein-
forced Confucian values, is often pointed to by historians as signifying
the mid-Meiji shift toward an emphasis on the Japanese past as a way to
build for the future. As a reaction against perceived rampant and indis-
criminate Westernization, there was a movement to “return” to native
Japanese culture and practices.9 Japan was also more confident in its
Guides for Modern Life125

place in the world, having survived the initial threat of Western imperi-
alism and become a successful military power itself, with the defeat of
China in 1895 and Russia in 1905. A 1906 edification guide, for exam-
ple, referred to a recent rise in popularity of tea culture, which it attrib-
uted to “a reaction against the fashion for European things and political
reform, as a result of the temporary lull after the war [the Russo-­
Japanese War of 1904–1905].”10
Japan’s increased presence on the international stage also played a
role in Meiji-period efforts to establish Japan’s national identity. While
Japanese artists began to train under and emulate Western painters at
new fine arts schools, Western painters such as Claude Monet found in-
spiration in traditional Japanese woodblock prints and aesthetics. The
high opinion held by international audiences about Japanese art and
culture helped fuel the rise of aesthetic nationalism. Tea culture, includ-
ing its architecture, crafts, and aesthetic sensibilities such as rustic sim-
plicity, was one of the traditional arts that was held up as a quintessentially
Japanese practice, through which one could come to understand Japa-
nese culture and identity. This view became a selling point in promoting
knowledge or experiences of tea culture to foreign audiences and the
study of tea culture to domestic audiences.
This mid-Meiji remaking of Japanese tradition offered tea schools
an opportunity to reposition themselves. It was an opportunity they
needed, because the changing political landscape of Meiji Japan nega-
tively affected the institutions of tea culture. As described in chapter 1,
for example, the three Sen schools had each held a hereditary position as
the tea advisers for specific domains. With the abolition of the shogu-
nate and the daimyo, these hereditary posts and their associated income
also disappeared. The tea schools faced something of a crisis. They
needed new students to increase their income, and they had to compete
for these students in a marketplace that now included Western cultural
activities. The Sen schools took advantage of the new climate more suc-
cessfully than other schools, laying the foundation for their dominance
in the post–World War II landscape of tea culture. Gengensai, the head
of Urasenke, led the initial revival of the Sen, petitioning against the
categorization of tea masters as “entertainers” by the Kyoto prefectural
government in 1872.11 In his letter, known as “The Basic Idea of the
Way of Tea” (Chado no geni’i), Gengensai rejected the notion that tea
was an entertainment and instead advocated its neo-Confucian creden-
tials: “The original meaning of the way of tea lies in diligent pursuit of
the five virtues, filial conduct and loyalty.”12 Gengensai also seized the
126 Chapter 5

opportunity to open tea up to new markets. For example, he created a

tea procedure that could be done using tables and chairs for an Interna-
tional Exposition held in Kyoto in 1872, to appeal both to Westerners
and to the Japanese among whom Western things were in vogue.13
Large-scale tea gatherings and ceremonial tea offerings at shrines were
another new format that attracted a large number of participant observ-
ers and gave the schools that organized them wide exposure.14
The revival of tea culture was due in part to the interest shown in
tea culture by the “new daimyo.” These were wealthy businessmen,
such as Masuda Takashi (1848–1938) of the Mitsui Trading Company,
who used fortunes amassed through involvement in the new industrial,
capitalist economy to acquire culture and learning, much as people had
purchased access to cultural capital in the Edo period. The new daimyo
were interested in a variety of Japanese arts, including tea culture. As
daimyo had done before them, the new daimyo bought, gifted, sold,
and displayed tea utensils and hosted tea gatherings as ways of exhibit-
ing their wealth and forging connections.15 Masuda saw himself as part
of a continuum of “great men” who had “a taste for tea.”16 The interest
in tea culture shown by men such as Masuda helped reelevate the sta-
tus of tea culture in the early twentieth century, so that is was seen as
an elite activity that belonged in the same sphere as big business and
high-stakes politics.
Interest in tea culture within Japan was also fueled by international
recognition that tea culture was a specifically Japanese cultural practice
and aesthetic. Within Japan, this recognition elevated the image of tea
culture to that of national symbol, initiating a circular process that con-
tinued to generate interest in tea. Particularly following the mid-Meiji
cultural shift, the Japanese government, intellectuals, and tea masters
sought to tell foreign and domestic audiences alike that chanoyu was a
uniquely Japanese cultural practice and that the objects used in tea cul-
ture could be valued as art in the same way that Western paintings were.
As Western audiences became more and more interested in tea culture,
their enthusiasm was noticed in Japan, further fueling domestic dis-
courses that associated the cultural practice with national identity. Tea
was featured at Japanese exhibits in numerous world’s fairs and interna-
tional exhibitions, such as the Philadelphia fair of 1876, the World’s
Columbian Exposition held in Chicago in 1893, and the Louisiana Pur-
chase Exposition of 1904.17
The publication in English of Okakura Kakuzō’s The Book of Tea
in 1906 introduced tea to a Western audience.18 In addition, it gave the
Guides for Modern Life127

Japanese a guide on how to explain tea to Westerners, particularly after

it was translated into Japanese in 1929. In this work, Okakura set up a
fundamental opposition between Japanese aesthetics, epitomized by tea
culture, and Western aesthetics. He implied that tea culture was some-
thing intuitively understood by all Japanese, whether they practiced or
not: “Our home and habits, costume and cuisine, porcelain, lacquer,
painting—our very literature—all have been subject to its [tea culture’s]
influence. . . . Our peasants have learned to arrange flowers, our meanest
labourer to offer his salutation to the rocks and waters.”19 Okakura be-
lieved that Westerners were incapable of understanding tea culture in
the same way as Japanese: “The average Westerner, in his sleek compla-
cency, will see in the tea ceremony but another instance of the thousand
and one oddities which constitute the quaintness and childishness of the
East to him.”20 It is hard to overestimate the impact of Okakura’s work
on how non-Japanese and Japanese alike see tea culture to this day and
on the vocabulary used to describe tea culture.
Okakura’s work also inspired later English-language publications
such as Fukukita Yasunosuke’s Chanoyu: Tea Cult of Japan and Arthur
Sadler’s Chanoyu: The Japanese Tea Ceremony, both of which were pub-
lished in the 1930s.21 As sociologist Kristin Surak has shown, the role of
intellectuals such as Okakura was instrumental in creating “the now
commonsense understanding, not only of the tea ceremony as self-­
evidently Japanese, but of its status as a symbol of the country.”22 So
evident was this understanding that in 1934 the aforementioned Fuku-
kita stated, “Nothing is more closely associated with the arts and crafts
of Japan than Cha-no-yu.”23
Around the same time that the process was under way by which
tea culture came to be seen as quintessentially Japanese, tea began to be
incorporated into formal school curricula for both public and private
girls’ schools. This timing also aligned with the implementation of the
“good wife, wise mother”–oriented curriculum for girls’ education. The
inclusion of tea in the curriculum of girls’ schools during the Meiji pe-
riod is well documented, so it will not be dealt with in great detail here.24
Suffice it to say that schools such as the Atomi Girls’ School in Tokyo
(established by Atomi Kakei [1840–1926]), Atomi Gakuen, and what
would become the Kyoto Prefectural Girls’ School included the study of
tea as an addition to, and sometimes a replacement for, general etiquette
courses from the 1870s.25 As Yoshiho Kobayashi and Kristin Surak have
discussed, tea classes were even one way in which Japaneseness was in-
stilled in young women studying at schools in the outer reaches of the
128 Chapter 5

nation (places such as Hokkaido) and, later, of the empire (Taiwan, for
example).26 Within a context of national identity-making centered on a
return to native practices, and of gender identity-making focused on
women’s proper behavior and role in the home, tea was well positioned
to play a role in girls’ education. Indeed, in Meiji edification guides the
ability to create a harmonious home—one of the duties of a good wife
and wise mother—was promoted as an outcome of tea practice. It is to
these guides that our discussion now turns, for more than anything else,
popular writings of the Meiji period reveal the continuities and changes
between Edo and Meiji frameworks for women’s tea practice.

Meiji Writings on Women’s Tea Practice

In their visual style and content, many Meiji edification guides re-
flected their debt to the Edo-period publishing industry. The practice of
dividing the pages into a narrow upper section and a larger lower sec-
tion was still widely used, for example. Phonetic glossing continued to
be provided for kanji in most guides. Early modern popular writings
included tea culture alongside other topics related to elite women’s edu-
cation and upbringing, such as playing the koto and shamisen, incense
appreciation, waka poetry composition, and teeth blackening. In the
Meiji period this type of publication continued to find a market, al-
though in the new climate topics like teeth blackening, which quickly
fell out of favor after Westerners commented negatively on it, were
gone.27 In their place were sections on Western cooking, Western cloth-
ing, or Western manners. Many of the subjects in early modern edifica-
tion guides still had a place in their Meiji counterparts, only now they
were categorized as Japanese cooking, Japanese clothing, and Japanese
manners. Tea was a topic that easily made the transition from early
modern to Meiji guides. It still had its place among other traditional
subjects such as waka poetry composition, flower arrangement, and in-
cense appreciation. By subsuming the topic of tea under headings like
“Japanese manners” and “Japanese customs,” these guides positioned
tea culture within what Surak calls a national framework.28
Edification guides featuring sections on tea culture began to reap-
pear from the late 1880s, timing that fits with the revival of tea culture
as outlined above. The firm Hakubunkan was tapping into an eager
market in the 1890s when it published guides such as Japanese Women’s
Etiquette (Nihon joreishiki, 1891) and Compendium of Japanese Women’s
Etiquette (Nihon joreishiki taizen, 1897).29 The earlier of these two works
Guides for Modern Life129

presents an eclectic mix of modern and more traditional topics, and Jap-
anese customs are contrasted with both Western and Chinese. Tea is
covered in a chapter titled “The Arts,” which also contains information
on waka poetry composition, koto playing, and incense appreciation.
Other chapters include “Childbirth,” “Education,” “Cooking” (both
Japanese and Western), and “Business/Finance.” The chapter “Marriage”
is divided into three sections: “Japanese marriage customs,” “Western
marriage customs,” and “Chinese marriage customs.”
The chapter on tea in Japanese Women’s Etiquette, entitled “Learn-
ing about the Way of Tea,” begins with basic information about the
“founder” of tea, Sen no Rikyū, and the two seasons in tea, winter and
summer. This is followed by three pages of illustrations of all the main
utensils used in tea. Finally, detailed, step-by-step, instructions are given
for various tea procedures, such as laying the charcoal and ash; the basic
procedures for the summer and winter seasons; and the procedure for
making thick tea in a four-and-a-half-mat room. With thirty-seven pages
of information on tea, much of which is taken up with the minutiae of
specific tea procedures, this was surely intended to be a practical, hands-
on guide to tea practice.30 The later work, Compendium of Japanese
Women’s Etiquette, is divided into two volumes but has fewer pages than
the earlier work, and the content and organization of the material has
some variations. The section on tea, entitled “Information about the
Way of Tea,” is slightly longer and goes into even greater detail about
aspects of tea culture not covered in the earlier book, such as the se-
quence of a tea gathering, how to conduct and attend a tea gathering,
and tearoom layouts. It also retains some of the same step-by-step in-
structions of procedures from the earlier work.31
In addition to new texts featuring information on tea for women,
some earlier texts were reprinted in the mid-Meiji period. Okamoto Ka-
tei’s Woman’s Treasury (Johō), for example, was published by the firm
Kin’ōdō in 1891, some forty-one years after the author’s death in 1850.32
The publisher must have felt that an early nineteenth-century guide for
women was still relevant at the close of the century, despite the monumen-
tal changes in social life that had occurred in the intervening decades. The
text has information on child-rearing practices, sewing clothes, knitting
with wool, gifts for the four seasons, women’s etiquette, playing the
shamisen, and flower arrangement, as well as tea culture. The chapter on
tea, which covers some fifty-six pages, is divided into twelve subsections
on how to make a garden for a teahouse; the wood used for a teahouse
arbor; the walls and fittings used in a teahouse; the tatami mats; the size
130 Chapter 5

and layout of tearooms; and specific aspects of tea gatherings, such as the
kaiseki meal and the roles of host and guest.33 Finally, there are instruc-
tions on how to prepare both thin and thick tea and how to lay the char-
coal. Much of the information in this guide is similar to that found in
Meiji-period texts, even though it was written approximately half a cen-
tury before. This suggests not only continuity in the content and style of
presentation but also the enduring popularity of such works.
Edo-period edification guides tended toward conveying general
information about tea culture and often stated that it was enough for
women to learn how to make thin tea and be a guest for thick tea. By
contrast, Meiji guides are extremely detailed and give step-by-step in-
structions on each particular part of tea culture. They do not limit the
information women should know to making thin tea but also include
information on making thick tea, the kaiseki meal, laying the charcoal,
and the layout of tearooms and gardens. In some cases, the texts are so
detailed they amount to teaching manuals. These Meiji writings con-
tinue to advocate the importance, even necessity, of women studying
tea, with statements such as, “The Way of Tea is particularly something
that women must have knowledge of.”34 Significantly, Meiji guides also
provide far more lengthy and detailed information on the history of
Japanese tea culture, a topic Edo-period guides never dwelt on. For ex-
ample, the section on tea in Compendium of Japanese Women’s Etiquette
begins by outlining the history of chanoyu tea culture in “our country,”
from the Ashikaga shogunate, continuing through the lives of tea mas-
ters such as Murata Shukō (1423–1502) and Sen no Rikyū, then nam-
ing the various schools that emerged in the Edo period.35 As Surak
suggests, the focus on history in Meiji popular writings for women in-
serted tea culture into a “national narrative.”36 Analyzing this interest
in tea history within a broader Edo-Meiji frame, we can see that it was
a new development that clearly linked the practice of tea with the culti-
vation of national identity.
Another guide, Women’s Kingdom (Joshi no ōkoku, 1903), told
readers that the skills learned in tea were applicable to the lives of all
women, regardless of class. For example, for lower-class women who
spent much of their time in the kitchen, having even a little knowledge
of the procedures for making tea would help them organize their kitchen
better.37 The famous Meiji-period educator Fukuzawa Yukichi (1835–
1901), by contrast, wrote, “One cannot apply the elegance of music, tea
ceremony, and flower arrangement to the kitchen . . . [and therefore] to
indulge in them, after all, is a kind of pleasurable pastime, since these
Guides for Modern Life131

arts are not of actual use in everyday living or in the actual management
of the home.”38 According to the author of Women’s Kingdom, though,
even women who did not spend time in the kitchen cooking (presum-
ably those of the upper class) would benefit from learning how to lay
charcoal, boil water, and make tea.39 The author did not elaborate on
why, though we may assume that the benefits of learning tea for upper-
class women were, as in the early modern period, connected to status
and appearance. In her 1905 book, Japanese Girls and Women, American
author Alice Mabel Bacon noted, “It is said by Japanese versed in the
most refined ways that a woman who has learned the tea ceremony
thoroughly is easily known by her superior bearing and manner on all
occasions.”40 Such reasoning had been expressed by authors of guides
for women’s edification since the eighteenth century. It still had reso-
nance in the Meiji period.
Like their earlier counterparts, Meiji edification guides were not
produced by specific tea schools, and sections on tea culture were part
of texts dealing with various subjects thought to be of interest to
women. Handy Manual for Sewing Japanese Clothes (Wafuku saihō teho-
doki, 1907), for example, devoted seventy pages to information on tea
culture—detailing every aspect of a tea gathering, from the arrange-
ments beforehand to the farewells at the end—although the primary
subject of the text, as the title indicates, was sewing.41 Probably be-
cause the guides were produced by educators, special interest associa-
tions, and commercial publishing firms, very few of them advocated
one school of tea over another. The majority listed the names of nu-
merous schools, and some noted that the Sen schools were the most
popular at the time. A Precious Mirror for Women’s Daily Use in the
Home (Katei nichiyō fujo hōkan, 1912), for example, mentioned twelve
schools of tea but noted that Edosenke was especially popular because
it did not follow the complicated styles of old but was simple and
therefore suited to the current mood.42
In addition to the continued publication of guides for women’s
edification, a new type of publication for women emerged in the Meiji
period—magazines. The magazine industry was diverse, but some of the
same companies that produced the guides, such as Hakubunkan, were
also involved in publishing women’s magazines. Schoolgirls’ World
(Jogaku sekai) was one of that firm’s top-selling magazines from 1900 to
1925. The cost (20 sen per issue) meant the magazine was “not suited to
the average young woman’s pocketbook.”43 Its audience would largely
have consisted of girls in higher schools, who were a small elite.44 In its
132 Chapter 5

aim and contents Schoolgirls’ World shared many similarities with guides
for women’s edification. In the second issue of the magazine, the editor
stated its purpose:

[Schoolgirls’ World aims] to supplement those areas that are lacking

in women’s education today. By soliciting articles from authorities in
the field of education, we will cover all facets of knowledge that a
woman needs in order to become enlightened and knowledgeable in
the necessary techniques required for understanding her household
work. We hope to help form wise mothers and good wives.45

In line with this aim, Schoolgirls’ World featured articles on “tradi-

tional” subjects, like tea. In 1901 it carried a series of four articles enti-
tled “Tea Manual” (Chanoyu tebiki), for example.46 These articles,
written by the head of the relatively small Rikyū tea school, presented
similar information to that covered in guides such as Japanese Women’s
Etiquette. The first article covered the times of day, seasons, and rooms
for tea gatherings; the greetings between host and guest; and how to
enter and sit in a tearoom. This information, according to the author,
was enough to hold a regular tea gathering.47 The following month’s
article covered the placement of the utensils, the procedures for laying
charcoal, and the kaiseki meal. In the third installment, the basic proce-
dure for making thick tea was explained, and in the final article the
topic was the procedure for making thin tea.
Women’s Education Magazine (Jogaku zasshi) targeted a middle-
and upper-class audience of “enlightened Meiji youth.”48 It aimed “to
improve women’s condition by combining the Western ideals of the
emancipated woman with native ideals of feminine grace.”49 As part of
these efforts, the magazine featured articles on subjects such as tea cul-
ture, flower arrangement, and waka poetry composition, particularly in
the early years of its publication, 1885 and 1886.50 Articles on tea were
briefer but similar in tone and content to those found in Schoolgirls’
World.51 Whether in edification guides or magazines, basic information
on tea culture—its history, utensils, tea gatherings, and procedures—
was disseminated to women through commercial publications in the
mid- to late Meiji period.
Sugoroku board games also continued to provide a visual counter-
part to the information discussed in guides. As in the Edo period, Meiji-
period sugoroku depicted women engaged in activities such as playing
the koto and making tea. Sugoroku of the Shogun’s Inner Quarters (Matsu
Guides for Modern Life133

toku aoi nigi ōoku sugoroku, 1895) reflected the interest in native Japa-
nese activities in mid-Meiji, particularly those associated with elite
women of leisure. Both its imagery and title, which harked back to the
previous era, evinced a certain level of nostalgia for the past.52

Tea and Modern Life

In the first decade of the twentieth century, the demand continued
among women for guides featuring information on tea culture, flower
arrangement, waka poetry composition, cooking, and manners. In the
case of tea, the basic information continued to be presented in much the
same way, but more commentary was given on the relationship between
tea and contemporary society than previously (in either the mid-Meiji or
the Edo period).53 One guide, Instructions on Housework for Women
(Joshi kajikun jōkan, 1901–1903), specifically referred to the growth in
women’s tea practice. Noting that tea used to be practiced by samurai
men as a way of learning to move gently and to cultivate a calm heart,
its author observed, “In recent times many women have attained mas-
tery [of tea]. It must be because it is well suited to their naturally grace-
ful disposition.”54 Thus, the connection between women’s practicing tea
and attaining gracefulness, which featured in eighteenth- and nineteenth-
century popular writings on tea culture for women, continued into the
twentieth century. There was also an awareness that the gender demo-
graphics of the tea world were changing.
A new area of discussion that emerged in popular writings about
tea practice for women was the relationship between tea and household
management. Katei (home) was a term introduced in the popular media
in the late 1880s and 1890s.55 In contrast with the earlier term ie (house-
hold), katei had connotations of Westernization and industrialization.56
The work of a good wife and wise mother in the home was a matter not
of private interest but of public interest and became the focus of reform
efforts by educators and public intellectuals. Magazines featured state-
ments such as, “Women must strive to make the family pleasant and
harmonious so as to create a place to educate a fine national citizenry”57
and “Our aim is to teach the methods by which to achieve a harmonious
home, thereby promoting the development of the dignity and morality
of the national citizenry.”58
The term katei enjoyed such popularity that it was purportedly
used in magazine and book titles to boost sales, with one observer com-
menting, “Soon even onna gidayū [women’s ballad chanting] and rakugo
134 Chapter 5

[comic storytelling] will be crowned by the word katei.”59 He was not

far off; tea, for instance, was included as a katei-related topic in several
late Meiji edification guides bearing this term in their title.60
The connection between tea and the home was explained in the guide
Women’s Self-Improvement and Practicality (Fujin shūyō to jissai, 1911):

If you incorporate the spirit of the manners and etiquette of the tea-
room into the home, and apply this to the family’s day-to-day behavior
and deportment, the organization of the home will be put in perfect
order. You will naturally acquire manners toward your superiors, the
husband and wife will grow closer together, and siblings will not fight;
the pleasure of a happy family will be made all the more splendid.61

Here, knowledge of tea culture was described as one way to bring

happiness and harmony to the home. In eighteenth- and nineteenth-­
century writings, cultivation of the individual woman was a touted out-
come of tea practice. In the early twentieth century, the benefits of an
individual woman’s tea practice extended beyond her to the family (con-
sisting of husband, wife, and children) and home life. Given that the
home was a microcosm of the national polity, this harmony would then
extend to the nation.
Women’s Self-Improvement and Practicality also connected tea with
another modern idea—self-improvement (shūyō). This term came into
vogue in the early twentieth century and “encompassed a variety of dif-
ferent meanings, evoking connotations of ‘character building,’ ‘moral
training,’ and ‘spiritual and cultural growth.’ ”62 In this particular guide,
the meaning of “self-improvement” is best described as “spiritual and
cultural growth.” According to its authors, women could achieve this
growth through the study of tea: “The Way of Tea is an excellent form
of etiquette that women should certainly study.” As Ōguchi Shōō had
done, the authors of this text drew explicit links between tea culture
and “the three philosophies of Shinto, Confucianism, and Buddhism.”
Despite this similarity, in the early twentieth century, it was no longer
necessary to justify writing about women’s tea practice, as Shōō had
done: “Today the Way of Tea has become a woman’s accomplish-
ment.”63 Instead, the authors of Women’s Self-Improvement and Practi-
cality were wary of criticism that tea was about no more than
“etiquette”: “Essentially, what is called chanoyu has as its true aim the
cultivation of the spirit. . . . It is a mistake to think that it is a tool of
etiquette or a tool of society.”64
Guides for Modern Life135

The guide then goes on to make explicit connections between

studying tea and improving one’s day-to-day manners and behavior and,
beyond that, one’s character or spirit:

To master tea thoroughly is difficult, but even with a little knowledge

you will be possessed with natural manners, and because your behavior
will become elegant, without any effort your heart will become gentle.
Manners towards your superiors and loving benevolence as well, these
I think, will surely develop through the Way of Tea. Sitting in one tea-
room and participating together in tea with pure and innocent hearts,
you will be mastering the same path together. Needless to say, there will
be no distinction between male or female, young or old, high or low,
rich or poor. As everyone’s hearts will come to understand each other, it
is a self-evident truth that mutual love and affection will develop.65

A strong argument in favor of learning tea for the purposes of self-

cultivation is put forward in Women’s Self-Improvement and Practicality.
Learning tea would improve a woman’s manners and etiquette but,
more importantly, it would cultivate her soul and give her tools for life.
Nonetheless, the image of tea in society was not entirely positive at
this time, and the authors of Women’s Self-Improvement and Practicality
took great pains to respond to criticism that participating in tea culture
required one to own expensive utensils: “This is an absolute misunder-
standing of the true aim of the Way of Tea. Indeed, tea utensils are the
same as school teaching materials. . . . People who say that you cannot
master the Way of Tea without utensils are completely mistaken.”66 To
counteract the criticisms leveled at tea culture by some, the authors em-
phasized modesty. Not needing expensive utensils, for example, would
help women cultivate the virtue of frugality, which was one of the femi-
nine virtues identified by the state and educators.67
Thus, whereas Edo-period popular writings gave women very
practical reasons to study tea—because it was popular, it would help a
woman become graceful, and it could help a woman gain a position in
service—some late Meiji guides presented a more philosophical and
spiritual reasoning. They suggested that etiquette and deportment were
not the sole purpose of study. Cultural and spiritual cultivation was the
primary goal—for the individual woman, for her family, and for the na-
tion. As in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, it was still not taken
for granted that women should study tea, although there was recogni-
tion of the changing demographics of tea practitioners. Women’s in-
136 Chapter 5

volvement still needed to be justified through articulation of the benefits

gained from learning tea. In the Edo period, tea had been described as a
hobby that a woman could take up if she had spare time and if she en-
sured that she put her duty as a wife and mother first. Now, in the late
Meiji period, studying tea was promoted as part of a woman’s role as a
wife and mother. It would help her fulfill her obligations to her family
and the nation. These ideas were expressed through modern concepts
such as “home” and “self-improvement.”

Teaching Tea
The possibility of turning knowledge of tea culture into a livelihood
was a new topic in Meiji-period writings on tea practice for women.
Guide to Occupations for Women (Joshi shokugyō annai, 1906), for
­example, carried a section on being a tea teacher (sadō kyōshi).68 The text
was published by Hakubunkan and written by Kondō Shōichi, an educa-
tor and the author of numerous works for women on subjects such as the
home and education. At least one of his guides, Handbook for the Home
(Katei hōten, 1906), featured a section on tea.69 Other livelihoods dis-
cussed in Guide to Occupations for Women included schoolteacher, musi-
cian, flower arrangement teacher, photographer, midwife, post office
clerk, telephone operator, instructor of Noh music for women, seam-
stress and sewing teacher, and factory worker. That is, it presented a
­mixture of modern and more traditional occupations for women.
With respect to tea culture, this guide echoes Women’s Self-­
Improvement and Practicality in explaining why tea teachers are held in
low opinion by some segments of society:

From the time of the Restoration until Meiji 14 or 15 [1881/1882], such

things as tea were perceived by society to be useless jobs done purely by
men of leisure; there was no one who would talk about tea. Also, so-
called tea people [chajin] have from long ago had biases of many kinds,
such as toward utensils that look dirty or sooty, as well as rejoicing in
types of utensils that are excessive, sparing no expense [on them].70

Nevertheless, Guide to Occupations for Women encourages women

to see the benefits of studying tea culture:

When making inquiries about marriage and so forth, if you can say
that you can do tea, it is said that your value as a very fine bride will
Guides for Modern Life137

increase, so nowadays optional courses of study or elective courses are

being included as subjects in girls’ schools. . . . Especially for school-
girls, for learning deportment, tea is all the more necessary.71

Turning to the specific subject of the book, occupations, the author

tells readers:

Chanoyu—that is, making tea—is in an extremely popular period, so

upper-class women first of all, down to women of the middle class and
below, are learning it. So we are in a state where those teachers [of tea]
are flourishing innumerably with great prosperity these [past] three
years. This is the situation, so it is becoming all the more fashionable,
no matter which school. . . . It can be rightly said that it is a fine thing
[for women to do].72

Next, the guide gives a brief outline of tea culture, focusing on the
different schools in particular. The text criticizes those teachers and stu-
dents who simply buy and sell certificates of proficiency without regard
for the practitioner’s skill level. Finally, specific advice is given for
women considering becoming a tea teacher:

Now, to become a regular tea teacher at a girls’ school or to be able to

put up a sign outside your house for teaching tea to neighborhood
girls, it is enough to know the information on the basic tea-making
procedure [hirademae], using the sunken hearth and brazier, and how
to put out the kaiseki meal. It can be said that it is not necessary to
have learned up to the level of the thick tea procedures. But it is also
fine to have an understanding of thick tea procedures; this is enough to
be counted among those within the category of extremely good master.
Nowadays, those who instruct in the Way of Tea who have knowledge
of [higher-level] daitenmoku or shin no daisu procedures . . . are few,
because there are not many people taking lessons in these procedures.
So, though calling yourself a teacher, it is not necessary to know these
things. In order to be able to teach people the regular procedures for
making thin tea, if you have fairly frequent classes, with one or one
and a half years’ learning you can generally become a teacher and hang
up a sign. But of course it depends on each person’s skill or lack of
skill. In saying this, though, there are people who think it is difficult to
become a very good teacher and will say months and years of learning
are not enough, five or ten years of tea lessons are vital, but this is an
138 Chapter 5

old-fashioned way of thinking. In this busy time . . . when it is possible

to graduate from university in four or five years, there is no fool who
would waste time studying the Way of Tea for a long period of time.
Even if you do not do this, you can study very well.73

Becoming a tea teacher thus appears to have been an attractive

choice; a woman could reach the necessary level of knowledge within a
short time frame and choose to work either from home or at a school.
Interestingly, no mention is made of the costs involved in setting oneself
up as a tea teacher, such as investment in utensils and a tearoom. The
author does, however, spend considerable time covering the practical
matter of income:

Usually the monthly fee for one class per week is fifty sen. There is also
a separate fee for “outside classes”—that is, when the teacher goes out
from her home to teach. If it is a class within the teacher’s home, the
monthly fee is one yen, or two yen for an outside class, at the lower end
of the scale. Over that, if you are asked out to a wealthy person’s house
there may be no limit; [you might receive] one yen per time or at an
even better house around two yen plus money to cover the sweets and
your transport. . . . If you have ten students coming to classes in your
home, you can live a good lifestyle. . . . You cannot say so simply how
much a tea teacher earns in a month, for it depends on the number of
students, and on the type of students, but at the least it will be ten yen
or more, up to eleven or twelve yen; the middle ground would be
twenty yen. Contrary to one’s expectations, the income is not much.74
A teacher of tea alone may have a difficult lifestyle, so many are teach-
ers of flower arrangement or etiquette at the same time. . . . Then there
are those people who have regular lessons once or twice a week at a
girls’ school who will receive at least ten yen, if not up to twelve yen
. . . and on other days they can also teach lessons in their home. . . .
Those who are teachers at one or two schools have a regular monthly
income, so it stands to reason that there some tea teachers who eagerly
work at a school.75

While some promoters of tea culture focused on more idealistic

goals of self-cultivation and creating a harmonious home, Guide to Oc-
cupations for Women advocated pragmatic reasons for women to study.
Of course, a student of tea would learn manners, etiquette, and deport-
ment, thereby becoming an attractive catch in the marriage market. The
Guides for Modern Life139

study of tea could also lead to a financially comfortable lifestyle through

teaching, though teaching tea alone may not have provided enough in-
come.76 By way of comparison, the incomes suggested for other occupa-
tions were as follows: a primary schoolteacher could receive on average
thirty-five to forty yen a month, though the amount could be as little as
ten yen or as high as seventy-five yen a month, depending on her level;77
a photographer could earn on average fifteen to seventeen yen a month,
and as much as forty-five yen a month if she was particularly talented;78
a post office clerk’s daily wages could be between fifteen and forty-five
sen;79 and a factory worker’s daily wages could be between seventeen
and twenty-five sen, and even up to fifty to sixty sen for a highly skilled
worker.80 A tea teacher’s average income of between twelve and twenty
yen a month was thus in the middle range for women, and her income
could move toward the higher end if she supplemented it by teaching
other subjects such as flower arranging.
Even limited knowledge was apparently enough to become a tea
teacher, suggesting that there must have been a proliferation of teachers
and a high demand for their services. A student’s average monthly fee of
fifty sen for tea classes, as listed in Guide to Occupations for Women,
would have been affordable for a woman of an established middle-class
family or above. According to one estimate, the “typical middle-class
family had a monthly income of one hundred yen or more” in 1900,
while for the “new middle class, composed of government officials and
company employees” it was about fifty to one hundred yen, with real
expenses totaling around forty-seven yen.81 For the new middle class
and working class, with an average monthly income of sixteen to twenty
yen in 1910, studying tea may have been more of an aspiration than a
reality.82 Yet, for those who could afford to study for a few years, the
chance to become a teacher and supplement the family income with up
to twenty yen a month was perhaps an attractive option.

Expanding the Frame

The modern associations of women’s tea practice with Japanese-
ness, femininity, and self-cultivation developed in the context of monu-
mental social and political change. Although the popularity of tea
culture and the finances of the schools that taught it came under threat
in the early Meiji rush to modernize and Westernize, this was short-
lived. Coinciding with a renewed interest in “traditional” Japanese cul-
ture domestically and the positive evaluation of that culture in the West
140 Chapter 5

was a focus on the cultivation of “good wives and wise mothers” in

girls’ education. This context made the conditions ripe for promoting
tea culture as a way of learning to become a good Japanese woman. Yet,
as in the Edo period, the dissemination of such ideas was undertaken
not only by tea schools. The message was also taken up by popular writ-
ers, educators, magazine editors, and popular organizations such as the
Japan Household Economy Association. They linked tea culture to mod-
ern ideas about the home and self-cultivation and presented tea culture
within a national narrative that was increasingly gendered as female.
Although the Meiji period was clearly a time of major transforma-
tion in tea culture as women came to study in large numbers and as tea
was linked with Japanese national identity, the significance of the former
development seems to have been overstated in existing scholarship. Ne-
glecting to include the tea practice of Edo period women in the narrative
of tea culture history makes the overwhelmingly female practice of tea
in modern Japan appear to be at odds with the early modern past. Writ-
ings on tea practice for women from the Edo period reveal that associa-
tions with feminine cultivation predate the Meiji period by some 150
years. As we have seen, these associations were framed in different ways:
for elite women, tea practice was linked to the development of morals
and spiritual growth; for commoner women, tea practice was touted as
a way to learn comportment and etiquette. In both cases genteel
­femininity was connected to tea culture. This was not the only way tea
­culture was understood, to be sure. Yet this connection shows that the
contrast between the Edo and Meiji periods is not so much in the
­development of a feminine discourse on tea culture but rather that this
feminine discourse came to be the dominant framework. The impact of
social and political developments in the Meiji period added several new
elements to this framework, notably the cultivation of national identity
and the practical benefits of skillful household management, self-­
improvement, and teaching tea as an occupation.
 Epilogue

B
y the early decades of the twentieth century, tea, femi-
ninity, and Japaneseness were inextricably linked in the
popular imagination. These links continue to this day. In
contemporary Japan, tea culture is associated with bridal training for
young women and is seen as a hobby for middle-aged and older women.
The association between tea culture and femininity is so strong today
that male practitioners often go to great lengths to justify their partici-
pation, reminding others that tea culture was once a manly activity
practiced by samurai warriors. Many male practitioners and male schol-
ars of tea culture portray the feminization of tea culture as a negative
phenomenon. A divide is perceived between men’s tea practice, thought
to be focused on an intellectual or philosophical understanding of tea
culture and engagement with tea practice as a form of art connoisseur-
ship, and women’s tea practice. Women’s tea practice is regarded as not
having the rational, intellectual, or aesthetic dimensions that men’s prac-
tice has. Rather, women’s practice is thought to be focused only on
learning comportment, etiquette, and manners.1 The question of how
tea culture came to be regarded as a feminine activity has not been suf-
ficiently addressed in existing scholarship, nor has the question of why
studying tea does not make men feminine and graceful if it is perceived
as having such an effect for women.
Tea culture and the reasons why people should study it have al-
ways been linked to social values and expectations. In eighteenth- and
early nineteenth-century popular writings, the accumulation of social
and cultural capital in the form of genteel femininity was promoted as a
reason for women to learn tea. In the late nineteenth century, women
were told that tea practice was a form of self-cultivation linked to creat-
ing a positive home life. Then, in the 1910s and 1920s, self-cultivation
came to include “modern” activities, such as reading novels and work-
ing outside the home. Yet “traditional” pursuits like tea still had a place,

141
142Epilogue

depending on the individual woman’s interpretation of the term “self-

cultivation.” A female office worker surveyed in 1922 explained, “For
me, self-cultivation entails attending a nightly sewing class and taking
lessons in tea ceremony and flower arrangement on the weekends.”2
An article that appeared in the magazine Schoolgirls’ World in
1916 made explicit the relationship between tea and self-cultivation.
In “Cultivation of the Mind and Spirit through Tea” (Chadō to seishin
shūyō), a tea master of the Tahogawa Enshū-gonomi school connected
the learning of practical skills and etiquette with the attainment of
spiritual enlightenment:

The point of the Way of Tea is to reform women’s behavior and culti-
vate the mind, especially to master the essence of Zen, so that they
become accomplished in etiquette. . . . The meaning of tea—namely,
this beautiful grace—is to create ladylike brightness, which is one
kind of cultivation of the mind. . . . While it is necessary to brush up
the techniques for being the housewife of the family, it should not be
forgotten that the most important thing is to achieve a calm heart
and compassion.3

Female educator Miwata Masako (1843–1927), the founder of

Miwata Women’s Higher School and the author of several books on
women’s education, also connected learning tea, self-cultivation, and
Zen. In a chapter on women’s amusements in a book on self-cultivation
before marriage, Miwata wrote that tea, “having a trace of the flavor of
Zen, is a place in which it is said that, in the midst of silence, comes
peacefulness for the body and mind.”4 The link she makes between tea
and Zen and the effects that tea study can have is strikingly similar to
the discourse in A Woman’s Handbook, the early eighteenth-century
text discussed in chapters 2 and 3. Although we tend to associate study-
ing tea with a form of self-cultivation for middle- and upper-class
women in the early twentieth century, it appears that working-class
women shared similar aspirations: “A recruitment flyer for Tokyo Mus-
lin [a cloth-­making factory] boasted that the moral benefits of employ-
ment included ‘becoming a magnificent person’ because they
[employees] would receive training in ‘sewing, flower arranging, tea
ceremony, etiquette and manners.’ ”5
The interwar years of the 1920s were a time when the “good wife,
wise mother” ideal for women was perceived to be under threat, from
the apparently corrupting influence of the modern girl. The modern girl,
Epilogue143

economically and emotionally independent, represented mainstream so-

ciety’s fears and anxieties about social change.6 In this context, the im-
age of the traditional Japanese woman was juxtaposed with the modern
girl, while in reality many women’s lives lay somewhere in between. For
those who went outside the home to work, as increasing numbers of
middle-class women did, it became important to cultivate the feminine
and Japanese part of themselves.7 As one tea master put it, “The young
ladies of today, if they are looked at from the point of view of women of
the past, are living vigorous and wise lives, but they should also have
some beautiful and feminine part of themselves.”8 And as Miwata Ma-
sako reminded her readers, “[Tea] is not found in the West; it is, of
course, a Japanese pastime.”9 From the clothing she wore to her style of
makeup, the working woman was advised not to stray too far into the
territory of a modern girl.10 One magazine stated, “Only if the working
women do not look like typical working women can they become truly
thoughtful and aware women.”11 The painter Fujita Tsuguji (1886–
1968) said, “When dressed in Japanese costume, [women] must behave
according to Japanese customs of modesty and quiet, and it is wrong for
them to imitate American movie actresses.”12 In her manners and de-
portment a woman could also express her identity. For those who wished
to convey an image closer to that of the traditional Japanese woman
than the modern girl, learning tea was one way to cultivate this identity.
A process that had begun in the eighteenth century and gained
strength in the nineteenth century, whereby tea became associated with
femininity, was fully developed by the 1930s. In 1935, concerns were
raised that the members of the Takarazuka Revue, an all-female theatre
troupe, were behaving “in a manly fashion in their daily lives,” because
these actresses were well-known for performing male roles. In order to
quash such concerns, a senior female actor of male roles stated that she
and the other actors were “all just ‘ordinary girls’ . . . who practice the
tea ceremony and flower arrangement when not performing onstage.”13
Where once those writing about women’s tea practice had to justify why
they were encouraging women to study, now women tea practitioners
themselves were articulating that a primary reason for their involvement
in tea culture was to cultivate their gender identity as feminine women.
In order to fully comprehend how tea culture is linked to modern
ideas of Japanese femininity, we need to look to the past. There were
multiple ideas and ideals of femininity in the Edo period. Knowledge of
tea culture was connected to these various ideals, represented at each
extreme by the courtesan and the elite wife. Thus, there were different
144Epilogue

types of women who practiced tea in different ways: the courtesan, who
was flamboyant, flirtatious, and extravagant; nuns, who were indepen-
dent and artistic; aristocratic and samurai women, who were graceful,
accomplished, and demure. Gradually, commoner women also began to
participate in tea culture. They followed the latter model of genteel fem-
ininity. It was this model that came to be most closely associated with
women’s tea practice in modern Japan, rather than a model associated
with courtesans or nuns. This expansion of an elite ideal of femininity to
a broader status and various classes of women, which was made possi-
ble through the writings discussed in this study, was a precursor to the
expansion of the “good wife, wise mother” ideal in the early twentieth
century. In modern Japan, tea culture became equated with this model
of middle- and upper-class femininity.
In a discussion of the issue of women’s literacy in seventeenth-­
century Japan, Peter Kornicki has commented that “there has obviously
been a misprision of the social, cultural, and economic participation of
women in the burgeoning urban and literate cultures of seventeenth-
century Kyoto, Osaka, and Edo which have hitherto been cast as essen-
tially male.”14 He concludes, “It is undeniable that women were reading.
. . . Not, of course, all women by a long way, but enough to matter, even
in the seventeenth century.”15 The same can be said of women’s partici-
pation in tea culture. It is undeniable that women were practicing tea
throughout the seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth centuries. To
continue to deny the significance of women’s participation in Japanese
tea culture prior to the Meiji period is a misguided reading of tea history
and women’s history. Not all women were tea practitioners in the Edo
period, but there were enough to matter. Their history warrants our at-
tention. This book is a first step in recovering that history. In so doing,
we increase our understanding of the history of Japanese tea culture, the
position of women in Edo-period society, and the history behind
the  growth of women’s tea practice in modern Japan. Acknowledging
the history of women’s participation in Edo-period tea culture opens up
avenues for exploring women’s engagement with various cultural prac-
tices across Japanese history.
 Notes

Introduction
1.  Kato, Tea Ceremony.
2.  The Chinese character for tea 茶 can be read in Japanese as either “sa”
or “cha.” The older and more common reading of 茶道 is sadō, how-
ever, in the post–World War II period the Urasenke school began using
the reading chadō.
3.  See, for example, Pitelka, Japanese Tea Culture.
4.  Chiba, Japanese Women, 1.
5.  Although academic works present a more nuanced picture, the over-
all impression given is that women began practicing tea in the Meiji
period. This is particularly the case in English-language academic
studies that focus on women and tea culture, such as Kato, The Tea
Ceremony and Women’s Empowerment; Chiba, Japanese Women,
Class and the Tea Ceremony; and Mori, “Women in a Traditional
Art.” In Japanese-­language academic discussions of women and tea
culture, women’s participation during the Edo period is usually
mentioned; however, it is treated as insignificant to understanding
the broader landscape of early modern tea culture and has therefore
had little impact on the field of Japanese tea history. For example,
see Tani, “Chakai-ki ni okeru josei gunzō”; Tanihata, Kinsei chadō
shi, 245–247; Yokota Yaemi, “Josei to chadō kyōiku”; and Ii, “Oku
jochū no chanoyu.”
6.  Varley, foreword to Japanese Way of Tea, x.
7.  Lerner, “Placing Women in History” (Feminist Studies); Lerner,
“­Placing Women in History” (in Majority Finds Its Past).
8.  Greene and Kahn, “Feminist Scholarship,” 13.
9.  Kagotani, Josei to chanoyu, is an example of such scholarship. It
­presents biographies of famous women who practiced tea from the
­sixteenth century, such as members of the imperial family.
10.  Kato, Tea Ceremony, 148.

145
146 Notes to Pages 6–14

11.  L erner, “Placing Women in History” (Feminist Studies); Scott, “Wom-

en’s History”; Bennett, History Matters.
12.  See, for example, Fister and Yamamoto, Japanese Women Artists; Ko-
rnicki, Patessio, and Rowley, Female as Subject; Gramlich-Oka,
Thinking like a Man; and Nenzi, Excursions in Identity.
13.  In the Horinouchi record, Horinouchi-ke monjinroku, the names of
ten women were entered between 1825 and 1851. In the Yabunouchi
record, Yabunouchi-ke monjinroku, the names of eight women were
entered between 1845 and 1873.
14.  Tani, “Chakai-ki ni okeru josei gunzō.”
15.  Kato, Tea Ceremony, 25–26.
16.  If the kettle lid is extremely hot, however, men may also use a folded
silk cloth.
17.  Rowley, “Tale of Genji.”
18.  Yamamura, Cha no kōzō, 268, translated in Kato, Tea Ceremony, 12.
19.  This has parallels in considering the consequences of popularization of
other social and cultural pursuits. For example, the decline and even-
tual disappearance of tayu rank in the pleasure quarters, the decline of
artistic quality of ukiyo-e prints, and the popularization of haikai po-
etry writing. Although among tea scholars the trend has been to see
popularization negatively, other scholars have seen it as evidence of the
development of a unified national culture. For example, see Berry, Ja-
pan in Print and Ikegami, Bonds of Civility.
20.  Kumakura, “History of Chanoyu,” 8.
21.  Varley, “Chanoyu,” 165.
22.  Meeks, Hokkeji, 8.
23.  Meeks, Hokkeji, 8.
24.  Rath, “Reevaluating Rikyū,” 96.
25.  Sen, “Autobiographical Essay 3,” 6.
26.  Sakaki, “Sliding Doors,” 4. Unless otherwise indicated, all bracketed
interpolations in quotations are mine.
27.  Previous versions of some of the research presented in this book have
appeared in the following journal articles: “Learning to Be Graceful:
Tea in Early Modern Guides for Women’s Edification,” Japanese Stud-
ies 29, no. 1 (2009): 81–94; and “Crafting Identity as Tea Practitioner
in Early Modern Japan: Ōtagaki Rengetsu and Tagami Kikusha,” U.S.-
Japan Women’s Journal 47 (2014): 3–27. I am grateful to Professor
Carolyn Stevens as editor in chief of Japanese Studies and to Professor
Koichi Haga as faculty adviser at Josai University for the U.S.-Japan
Women’s Journal for their permission to include them here.
Notes to Pages 15–29147

28.  F or discussion of such examples, see Ikegami, Bonds of Civility; and

Rath, Food and Fantasy.
29.  Rich, Blood, Bread, and Poetry, 149.
30.  Elias, Civilizing Process.
31.  Howell, Geographies of Identity, 24–25.
32.  Howell, Geographies of Identity, 28.
33.  Howell, Geographies of Identity, 28.
34.  As David Howell argues, “the impoverished warrior [samurai] who as-
sembled umbrellas to support himself” was a stock figure in popular
culture by the late Edo period. Such a figure was emblematic of the
underemployed men who nominally held samurai status but turned to
handicrafts or mercantile activities to make ends meet because their
stipends were insufficient. Howell, Geographies of Identity, 57.
35.  Howell, Geographies of Identity, 25.
36.  Howell, Geographies of Identity, 27.
37.  See Corbett, “Crafting Identity.”

Chapter 1:  Women and Tea Culture in Early Modern Japan

1.  See Pitelka, Spectacular Accumulation, for a landmark study of how
the collection, display, and exchange of tea utensils was a political
­practice.
2.  On poetry gatherings as artistic spaces, see Ikegami, Bonds of Civility.
3.  See Demura-Devore, “Institutionalization of Tea Specialists.”
4.  For a detailed discussion of the term “daimyo cha,” see Nakano-
Holmes, “Furuta Oribe,” 48–52. Some scholars question this division
between warlord tea and rustic tea, regarding it as too simplistic. See
Kumakura, Kan’ei bunka no kenkyū, 161–162, 198, 240; and Tani-
hata, “Daimyō chadō no tenkai,” 36.
5.  Many other traditional Japanese arts, including flower arranging, in-
cense appreciation, and various styles of dance and music, are also
structured around an iemoto system. On the development of the
iemoto system, particularly as it relates to tea culture, see Nishiyama,
Iemoto no kenkyū; Pitelka, Handmade Culture, 90–109; and Surak,
Making Tea, 91–118.
6.  See Pitelka, “Tea Taste.”
7.  In this book, dates prior to the first year of the Meiji period (1868) have
been converted to their approximate year by the Western calendar, fol-
lowing the reference list created by Michael Geoffrey Watson at Meiji
Gakuin University. So, for example, the Japanese date of the thirteenth
day of the twelfth month of Bunsei is 1825/12/13.
148 Notes to Pages 29–33

8.  O  n manuscript culture in early modern Japan, see Kornicki, “Manu-

script, Not Print.”
9.  Pitelka, Handmade Culture, 114.
10.  H aikai poetry, known today as haiku, is a poetic form consisting of
17  syllables, grouped into three lines of 5–7–5 syllables. Waka are
­31-syllable poems whose lines follow a pattern of 5–7–5–7–7 syllables.
11.  On the transmission of secret knowledge, see Morinaga, Secrecy in
Japanese Arts.
12.  Nomura, Sekishū ryū, 72–99.
13.  See Nomura, Sekishū ryū, 100–256.
14.  Yūgensai Ittō (1719–1771), the eighth-generation head of the Urasenke
school, for example, held a gathering on 1758/11/10, at which the
guests were his wife, Shina, and daughter, Chie, as well as three nuns:
Sorin; Sosen, who was the younger sister of Rikkansai Taisō (1694–
1726; sixth-generation head of Urasenke); and Soshun. This was one of
the gatherings held for the one-hundred-year memorial for a previous
head of the school, Sen Sōtan. In the Omotesenke school the tenth-
generation head, Kyūkōsai (1818–1860), held a gathering on 1838/3/13
at which his second wife, the second wife of a Morita, and Risai (head
of the Kamazawa family of Sen-school-affiliated woodworkers) were
guests. The first example is in Chanoyu: Kenkyū to shiryō 1 (1969),
71–72. The second example is in Kyūkōsai sōshō chakaiki, a privately
owned document. It is listed in the compiled records of women in the
records of tea gatherings of Tani Akira, Nomura Museum, Kyoto,
viewed July 3 and 11, 2006.
15.  On economic growth, see Hanley and Yamamura, Economic and De-
mographic Change; Smitka, Japanese Economy; Nakai and McClain,
“Commercial Change,” 519–590; and Totman, Early Modern Japan,
140–159.
16.  Ogyū, Seidan, 140.
17.  Ogyū, Seidan, 149.
18.  Quoted in Nakai and McClain, “Commercial Change,” 594.
19.  See Shively, “Sumptuary Regulation,” 123–164.
20.  Shively, “Sumptuary Regulation,” 124; and Ikegami, Bonds of Civility,
258.
21.  See David Howell’s discussion of customs and “other elements of out-
ward appearance” and status in his Geographies of Identity, 15–16,
25–39.
22.  Quoted in Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 150. The bracketed interpola-
tions are Ikegami’s.
Notes to Pages 34–39149

23.  Quoted in Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 150.

24.  Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 332.
25.  See Varley and Elison, “Culture of Tea”; Elison, “Hideyoshi”; Berry,
Hideyoshi, 189–191; and Ludwig, “Chanoyu and Momoyama.”
26.  Bourdieu, Logic of Practice, 112–120; and Bourdieu, Distinction, 1–3.
27.  Bourdieu, Logic of Practice, 118.
28.  Kato, Tea Ceremony, 4.
29.  See Kornicki, The Book in Japan, 169–207; and Berry, Japan in Print.
30.  Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 291–294; Keene, World within Walls,
1–7; and Rubinger, Popular Literacy, 80–85.
31.  Rubinger, Popular Literacy, 83.
32.  Rubinger, Popular Literacy, 83–84.
33.  For examples of such texts, see Berry, Japan in Print; Yokoyama, “Il-
lustrated Household Encyclopedias”; and Yokoyama, “In Quest of Ci-
vility.”
34.  Berry, Japan in Print, 13–53.
35.  As Ikegami suggests, the popularity of such texts across a variety of
cultural practices indicates that readers were participants in the prac-
tices, not just recipients of information about them. Ikegami, Bonds of
Civility, 298.
36.  Hayashiya, “Chadō zensho no seiritsu,” 375–376; Tsutsui, Chasho no
keifu, 31–36; and Pitelka, Handmade Culture, 113. Sōjinboku, tran-
scribed by Horiguchi Sutemi in Bunken hen, vol. 12 of Iguchi, Chadō
zenshū.
37.  C
 hadō zenshō (1693) is transcribed in Chanoyu bunka gaku 2
(March 1995): 81–185. Chanoyu hyōrin taisei (1697) is in the collec-
tion of the Kyōto Furitsu Shiryōkan.
38.  Pitelka, Handmade Culture, 113–114. The bracketed interpolations
are Pitelka’s.
39.  W akan shodōgu, vol. 8 of Banpō zenshū, transcribed in Kibutsu hen
4, vol. 15 of Iguchi, Chadō zenshū.
40.  Pitelka, Handmade Culture, 112–131.
41.  Pitelka, Handmade Culture, 92, 197.
42.  Gerstle, Kinsei enpon shiryō shūsei 4:127.
43.  Kornicki, The Book in Japan, 178–179.
44.  Kornicki, “Unsuitable Books for Women?,” 160.
45.  Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 302.
46.  Ikeda Tōri, Onna terako chōhōki, reprinted in Nagatomo, Chōhōki
shiryō shūsei 8:119.
47.  Kornicki, “Women, Education, and Literacy,” 14.
150 Notes to Pages 39–43

48.  S ee Kornicki, “Women, Education, and Literacy”; and Sugano Noriko,

“Terakoya to onna shishō.”
49.  Seki, Edo kōki no joseitachi, 36–37.
50.  Discussed in Sugano, “Terakoya to onna shishō.”
51.  Rubinger, Popular Literacy, 96.
52.  For a sample of sections from guides for women’s edification dealing
with reading and writing, see Emori, Edo jidai josei seikatsu ezu dai-
jiten 4:2–90.
53.  Takada, Joyō fukuju-dai. For several different versions of this image,
see Emori, Edo jidai josei seikatsu ezu daijiten 4:4–5.
54.  Rubinger, Popular Literacy, 117. The bracketed and parenthetical in-
terpolations are Rubinger’s.
55.  Yokota Fuyuhiko, “Imagining Working Women.”
56.  Rubinger, Popular Literacy, 136, 169; Walthall, “Women and Liter-
acy,” 219.
57.  See, for example, Anne Walthall’s discussion of female literacy among
rural entrepreneurs in her “Family Ideology of Rural Entrepreneurs,”
471–472.
58.  Rubinger, Popular Literacy.
59.  Kornicki, “Women, Education, and Literacy,” 17.
60.  See Shiba, “Tabi nikki”; Shiba, Kinsei onna tabi nikki; Yabuta, Otoko
to onna no kinseishi; Amano, Joshi shosokugata; and Rubinger, Pop-
ular Literacy, 159–160.
61.  Rubinger, Popular Literacy, 89.
62.  Rubinger, Popular Literacy, 90.
63.  See Kamiya, Sōtan nikki.
64.  He was also related through blood and marriage to Hosokawa Fuji-
taka (Yūsai), the father of Hosokawa Sansai (Tadaoki), who is dis-
cussed below in the text.
65.  Yoshida, Kanemi kyōki 1:124.
66.  Yoshida, Kanemi kyōki 1:124, 180.
67.  The diary is discussed in Tanihata, Kinsei chadō shi, 139–140; Tani-
hata, Kuge chadō no kenkyū, 281–282; and Seigle, Kōjo Shina no
Miya no nichijō seikatsu.
68.  Tanihata, Kinsei chadōshi, 140; Tanihata, Kuge chadō no kenkyū,
282–283.
69.  Tanihata, Kinsei chadōshi, 145.
70.  See Corbett, “Crafting Identity.”
71.  These records have been published in Yoshimura, “Kikusha no chakaiki
o yomu.”
Notes to Pages 43–49151

72.  Yoshimura, “Kikusha no chakaiki o yomu,” 20–21.

73.  Kikusha compiled a record of the gathering entitled “Kūgetsuan muda
bukuro” to thank Ito. Reprinted in Nakagawa, Joryū haijin Tagami
Kikusha, 113.
74.  Tani, “Chakaiki ni okeru josei gunzō,” 93–95.
75.  The word nyōbō is used to describe them and indicates that these
women may have served at the imperial or shogunal court. However,
because this term also meant “wife,” it is difficult to be certain. Here I
have used the English “attendants” for them, and for the word jochū,
which appears in other records, because the women appear to have
been attendants to Takakage’s wife, who herself may have served as a
lady-in-waiting at court, given her title tsubone.
76.  Sen, Chadō koten zenshū 6, 311. Also discussed in Tani, “Chakai-ki ni
okeru josei gunzō,” 93.
77.  Sen, Chadō koten zenshū 6, 311.
78.  Tani, “Chakai-ki ni okeru josei gunzō,” 93.
79.  For example, at a gathering on 1642/5/14 hosted by Hosokawa Sansai
(Tadaoki) (1563–1646), who was one of the famed tea master Rikyū’s
“seven disciples,” a female grandchild is recorded as having attended.
Sen, Chadō koten zenshū 9:402.
80.  Murai, “Ō Edo no cha.”
81.  Kusama, Chaki meibutsu zui, 618–619.
82.  Tani, “Chakai-ki ni okeru josei gunzō,” 94–95.
83.  K yūkōsai sōshō chakaiki, privately owned document. Included in cat-
alogs compiled by Tani Akira, Nomura Museum, Kyoto, viewed July 3
and 11, 2006.
84.  Ikegami uses the term “aesthetic socialization” in Bonds of Civility.
85.  Kumakura, “Kan’ei Culture and Chanoyu,” 155–157.
86.  Nishiyama, “Kinsei no yūgei-ron,” 613–614.
87.  Moriya, “Yūgei and Chōnin Society,” 44–45.
88.  Kimura, Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki, reprinted in Aikawa, Edo ji-
dai josei bunko, 40:2, 18. Translations are mine unless otherwise spec-
ified in a note or a bibliographic reference.
89.  Walthall, “Women and Literacy,” 224.
90.  Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 158.
91.  Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 153.
92.  Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 41.
93.  Walthall, “Networking,” 102.
94.  Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 153–155.
95.  Keene, Major Plays of Chikamatsu, 270.
152 Notes to Pages 49–57

96.  Chikamatsu, Yari no Gonza Kasane Katabira, translated in Keene,

Major Plays of Chikamatsu, 278.
97.  Keene, Major Plays of Chikamatsu, 279.
98.  Keene, Major Plays of Chikamatsu, 279.
99.  Keene, Major Plays of Chikamatsu, 277.
100.  Keene, Major Plays of Chikamatsu, 283.
101.  Keene, Major Plays of Chikamatsu, 283.
102.  Keene, Major Plays of Chikamatsu, 287.
103.  Keene, Major Plays of Chikamatsu, 289.
104.  Leupp, “Population Registers,” 70.
105.  Pitelka, Handmade Culture, 127.
106.  Pitelka, Handmade Culture, 127.
107.  Lebra, “Women in an All-Male Industry,” 136–137.
108.  Lerner, Creation of Patriarchy, 74.
109.  On the nature of Edo kabuki productions, the development of plays
before they were textualized and anthologized in the modern period,
and characters appearing in plays with different titles, see Shimazaki,
Edo Kabuki in Transition.
110.  Johnson, introduction to Meiboku Sendai Hagi, 50–52.
111.  A nother example is “Actors Onkichi as Tsurukiyo, Saizaburō as Sen-
matsu, and Onoe Kikujirō II as Nurse (Menoto) Masaoka” (1849), by
Utagawa Kuniyoshi, held at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, acces-
sion no. 11.38081a–b.
112.  Johnson, introduction to Meiboku Sendai Hagi, 51.
113.  Brandon and Leiter, Kabuki Plays on Stage 2:9; Shively, “Social Envi-
ronment of Tokugawa Kabuki,” 29.

Chapter 2:  A Handbook for Elite Women’s Tea in the Eighteenth Century
1.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, reprinted in Nomura, Teihon Sekishū
ryū 2: Sekishū-ke chajin, 188–223. This transcription is based on
the manuscript copy of the text made by Nakajima Munetaka,
held at the National Diet Library, Tokyo. I have also consulted a
microfilm edition from the National Institute of Japanese Litera-
ture, which is from a manuscript copy held at the Imabari City
Kono Art Museum, Ehime Prefecture. This edition is signed, “By
Yōkōsai of Naniwa, Ōguchi Gansui.” It does not show any signifi-
cant difference from the version transcribed in Nomura, Teihon
Sekishū ryū 2.
2.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 188.
3.  Nomura, Teihon Sekishū ryū 2:171.
Notes to Pages 57–61153

4.  O n tea practice among the samurai, see Tanimura, “Tea of the War-
rior”; Tanihata, “Daimyō chadō no tenkai”; and Demura-Devore, “In-
stitutionalization of Tea Specialists.”
5.  Nomura, Teihon Sekishū ryū 2:172.
6.  Nomura, Teihon Sekishū ryū 2:172.
7.  Ōguchi, Gyakuryū gendan, reprinted in Nomura, Teihon Sekishū
ryū 2: Sekishū-ke chajin, 173.
8.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 173–174.
9.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 223.
10.  Kimono sleeves were often used to hold items, in much the same way
as pockets in Western clothing are used; therefore, “something you
have at hand” and “sleeve” are closely related.
11.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 188.
12.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 188.
13.  See, for example, Ibaraki Kenritsu Rekishikan, Tokugawa-ke denrai
ningyō, 40–42; and Sendai-shi Hakubutsukan, Daimyō-ke no kon-
rei, 67.
14.  Tokugawa Bijutsukan, Hatsune no chōdo; Wilson, “Chiyohime Dowry.”
15.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 188.
16.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 188.
17.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 188.
18.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 188. Making reference to famous masters of
the past, especially Rikyū, was common in texts on tea culture because
it lent an air of legitimacy to the author.
19.  Joshua Mostow, Peter Kornicki, and Jamie Newhard have all discussed
issues around establishing what texts or editions of specific texts were
aimed at a female audience in the Edo period, who actually read these
texts (men, women, or both), as well as debates around what women
should be reading. See Mostow, “Illustrated Classical Texts”; Kornicki,
“Unsuitable Books for Women?”; and Newhard, Knowing the Amo-
rous Man, 171–179. Their discussions all center on new editions of
classical texts, notably The Tale of Genji and The Tales of Ise.
20.  See Kornicki, “Women, Education, and Literacy,” 25.
21.  Newhard, Knowing the Amorous Man, 173.
22.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 202. For descriptions and illustrations of dif-
ferent types of kimono robes, see Gluckman and Takeda, When Art
Became Fashion.
23.  T
 hey are held at the National Diet Library, Tokyo; the Imabari City
Kono Art Museum, Ehime Prefecture; and the Urasenke Konnichian
Library, Kyoto.
154 Notes to Pages 62–68

24.  T he size of a tearoom is typically described in terms of the number of

tatami mats. One tatami mat is roughly 90 by 180 centimeters, but
these dimensions can vary according to region.
25.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 191.
26.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 191.
27.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 208.
28.  Elias, Civilizing Process.
29.  Yokoyama, “In Quest of Civility.”
30.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 206.
31.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 190.
32.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 191.
33.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 190.
34.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 204.
35.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 204.
36.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 202.
37.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 202.
38.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 205.
39.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 211.
40.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 203.
41.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 203. The notion of determining the seating
order of guests by their social status or court rank may seem to be at
odds with the supposedly egalitarian ideals of tea. However, in the con-
text of the Edo period—and in the Sekishū school in particular, popular
as it was among daimyo—the maintenance of status distinctions inside
the tearoom was important. There was thus an inherent conflict be-
tween the ideals of tea and the accommodation to sociopolitical reali-
ties.
42.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 203.
43.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 210.
44.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 210.
45.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 205.
46.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 208.
47.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 217.
48.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 217–218.
49.  S hin kokinshū, 363, translated in Carter, Traditional Japanese Poetry,
197.
50.  Gosenshū, 204, translated in Carter, Waiting for the Wind, 41.
51.  Whether the disconnection is due to distance or to lack of personal
connections is not clear, but Shōō may be referring to provincial women
here.
Notes to Pages 68–76155

52.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 220.

53.  See Mostow, “Illustrated Classical Texts”; Kornicki, “Unsuitable Books
for Women?”; and Newhard, Knowing the Amorous Man, 171–179.
54.  Translated in McCullough, Classical Japanese Prose, 409.
55.  Nagatomo, Onna chōhōki, Otoko chōhōki, 10–22.
56.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 223.
57.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 223.
58.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 223.
59.  Quoted in Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 223.
60.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 223.
61.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 223.

Chapter 3:  A Handbook for Women’s Tea in the Nineteenth Century

1.  See Vaporis, Tour of Duty.
2.  See Seigle and Chance, Ōoku; and Beerens, “Interview with Two La-
dies.”
3.  Oguchi, “Tokugawa Shōgun’s ‘Court’,” 214. Anna Beerens states that
“by the bakumatsu period, the Ōoku of the Main Enceinte was in-
habited by some seven hundred to one thousand women, at the most.”
Beerens, “Interview with Two Ladies,” 270. The numbers had appar-
ently been greater earlier in the Edo period, with one record suggest-
ing that more than 3,700 women were dismissed from the shogun’s
inner quarters as an economizing measure in 1651. See Leupp, Ser-
vants, Shophands, and Laborers, 38.
4.  Hata, Edo okujochū monogatari, 67.
5.  Hata, Edo okujochū monogatari, 67; Nagashima and Ōta, Teihon
Edojō ōoku, 121–122.
6.  See Hata, “Servants of the Inner Quarters,” especially table 9.1. Beerens
also provides a table translating all of the titles of female attendants
mentioned in a Meiji period interview with two former attendants in the
Ōoku of the Main Enceinte. Beerens, “Interview with Two Ladies,” 278.
7.  R yō was the gold currency unit used in the Edo period. Koku was a
measurement in rice of approximately 180 liters, which was said to be
the amount needed to feed one adult male for a year. In general, one
ryō of gold could buy one koku of rice.
8.  Hata, Edo okujochū monogatari, 67.
9.  Ono, Edo bukka jiten, 111.
10.  See, for example, the description of Yoshino Michi’s duties in the ser-
vice of noble women who managed the Hitotsubashi household in
Walthall, “From Peasant Daughter to Samurai Wife,” 97.
156 Notes to Pages 76–80

11.  Walthall, “Edo bunka ni okeru Ō-oku,” 56.

12.  Leupp, Servants, Shophands, and Laborers, 67.
13.  Leupp, Servants, Shophands, and Laborers, 29.
14.  Leupp, Servants, Shophands, and Laborers, 64.
15.  In the case of the Great Interior of the Main Enceinte, women who
worked in the highest positions, who were from court or high-ranking
samurai families, were employed for life.
16.  Walthall, “Family Ideology of Rural Entrepreneurs,” 473.
17.  Ujiie, Edo no shōnen, 143.
18.  For biographical information on Sorai, see Flueckiger, Imagining Har-
mony, 61–65.
19.  Ogyū, Seidan, 119–120.
20.  Leupp, Servants, Shophands, and Laborers, 104.
21.  Leupp, Servants, Shophands, and Laborers, 104.
22.  Walthall, “From Peasant Daughter to Samurai Wife,” 98.
23.  Walthall, “From Peasant Daughter to Samurai Wife,” 99.
24.  Ujiie, Edo no shōnen, 148–149. It appears, then, that older, married
women could also enter into service, though they were probably in the
minority.
25.  Ujiie, Edo no shōnen, 163.
26.  See Gerstle, “Flowers of Edo,” 33–50.
27.  See Brandon and Leiter, Kabuki Plays on Stage, vol. 2.
28.  Leupp, Servants, Shophands, and Laborers, 120–122.
29.  Leupp, Servants, Shophands, and Laborers, 121.
30.  For Ishida Baigan’s views, see Shively, “Sumptuary Regulation,” 157–
158. See also Leupp, Servants, Shophands, and Laborers, 121.
31.  Ogyū, Seidan, 123.
32.  Ogyū, Seidan, 122–123.
33.  See, for example, Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 155; Walthall, “Edo

bunka ni okeru Ō-oku,” 56; and Hata, Edo okujochū monogatari, 22.
34.  Leupp, Servants, Shophands, and Laborers, 68. See also Shirane and
Brandon, Early Modern Japanese Literature, 747–759.
35.  Walthall, “From Peasant Daughter to Samurai Wife,” 97.
36.  Howell, Geographies of Identity, 27.
37.  For example, see Anne Walthall’s discussion of the positive benefits for
Yoshino Michi’s parents, both during her time in service and after her
marriage to a samurai. Walthall, “From Peasant Daughter to Samurai
Wife,” 99–102.
38.  Walthall, “From Peasant Daughter to Samurai Wife,” 100.
39.  Walthall, “From Peasant Daughter to Samurai Wife,” 100.
Notes to Pages 80–87157

40.  Gramlich-Oka, Thinking like a Man, 67.

41.  Gramlich-Oka, Thinking like a Man, 67.
42.  Formanek, “ ‘Spectacle’ of Womanhood,” 103.
43.  Formanek, “ ‘Spectacle’ of Womanhood,” 73–82.
44.  For Formanek, sugoroku can be read as “texts” in multiple ways—for
example, by looking at what is represented on the squares and also by
looking at the possible moves and where they will take you (closer to
the goal or its negative counterpole). Formanek, “ ‘Spectacle’ of Wom-
anhood,” 79.
45.  Formanek, “ ‘Spectacle’ of Womanhood,” 80–82.
46.  Formanek, “ ‘Spectacle’ of Womanhood,” 81.
47.  Formanek lists several sugoroku of the latter type. Formanek, “ ‘Spec-
tacle’ of Womanhood,” 85.
48.  Formanek, “ ‘Spectacle’ of Womanhood,” 56.
49.  Leupp, Servants, Shophands, and Laborers, 67.
50.  Walthall, “Edo bunka ni okeru Ō-oku,” 56.
51.  Walthall, “Edo bunka ni okeru Ō-oku,” 56.
52.  Walthall, “Nishimiya Hide,” 47.
53.  Walthall, “Nishimiya Hide,” 47.
54.  Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 155.
55.  Described in Ujiie, Edo no shōnen, 150–155.
56.  Ujiie, Edo no shōnen, 153.
57.  Translated in Leupp, Servants, Shophands, and Laborers, 68.
58.  Leupp suggests that conditions such as regular days off, as well as
wages, could be negotiated by employees and provides an example of a
standard contract from 1693. Leupp, Servants, Shophands, and La-
borers, 100–105.
59.  Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 157. See also Gerstle, “Flowers of Edo,”
33–50.
60.  Nagashima and Ōta, Teihon Edojō ōoku, 101–124.
61.  Naitō, Onna rōei kyōkunka.
62.  Leupp, Servants, Shophands, and Laborers, 63.
63.  For a detailed discussion of this particular sugoroku, see Iwaki,

­“ ‘­E-sugoroku’ ni miru.”
64.  The term “conspicuous leisure” is taken from Veblen, Theory of the
Leisure Class, 28–48.
65.  Saikaku, Kōshoku ichidai otoko, 152.
66.  Walthall, “Edo bunka ni okeru Ō-oku,” 57.
67.  Tanimura, Ii Naosuke, 58–74.
68.  Tanimura, Ii Naosuke, 6.
158 Notes to Pages 87–92

69.  I i Naosuke, Chanoyu ichie shū. For a detailed discussion of this work,
see Tanimura, Ii Naosuke, 112–142.
70.  Tanimura, Ii Naosuke, 125.
71.  See, for example, Varley, “Chanoyu,” 184–188.
72.  Tanimura, “Tea of the Warrior,” 145–146.
73.  Sen, Chadō koten zenshū, 340.
74.  Tanimura, Ii Naosuke, 197–204. Ii Hiroko makes a similar argument
in “Oku jochū no chanoyu,” 202, 217–225.
75.  Nakamura, Ii Tairō sadō dan, 41.
76.  Ii Naosuke, “Toji no tamoto,” Hikone Castle Museum, document no.
6699, search no. 28223.
77.  Tanimura, “Tea of the Warrior,” 146.
78.  Gatherings on 1857/11/7 and 1857/12/7. Ii Naosuke, Tōto Mizuya-
chō, reprinted in Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke chakai-ki,” 64, 67.
79.  Personal correspondence from Tani Akira, Nomura Museum, Kyoto.
80.  Nakamura, Ii Tairō sadō dan, 40–41.
81.  The assumption that Sōgyū is the tea name (chamei) of Katagiri Sōtetsu
is based on the following: a tea master by the name of Sōgyū often ap-
pears in the records at the same gatherings as the women of the Ii
household; as the women’s teacher, Sōtetsu would likely have been
present at some of their gatherings; and as Sōtetsu was evidently ac-
complished enough in tea to teach, she most likely would have had a
tea name. See Tanimura, Ii Naosuke, 197; Ii Hiroko, “Oku jochū no
chanoyu,” 213, 227; and Rai, “Ii Naosuke no chanoyu no shishō,” 248.
82.  Nakamura, Ii Tairō sadō dan, 41.
83.  Nakamura, Ii Tairō sadō dan, 41.
84.  Nakamura, Ii Tairō sadō dan, 41.
85.  Gathering on 1857/12/7. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke chakai-ki,” 167. When
the host is not mentioned in his records of tea gatherings, scholars pre-
sume that it was Naosuke himself.
86.  K aiseki-fu, reprinted in Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 121–174.
87.  Ii Naosuke, Ansei 6 Mizuya-chō (1859/8/24–1859/10/07), reprinted in
Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 174–177.
88.  A nsei Manen Mizuya-chō (1859/2/19–1860/2/19), reprinted in Tani-
hata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 177–183.
89.  Ii Naosuke, Tōto Mizuya-chō, 46–75.
90.  Ii Naosuke, Maikai Mizuya-chō (1857/11/1–1859/2/13), reprinted in
Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 97–112.
91.  The information that follows in the text on the positions of the various
vassals is from Kumakura, Shiryō, 291–293.
Notes to Pages 92–99159

92.  Gathering on 1855/2/19. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 124.

93.  Gathering on 1857/11/7. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 164.
94.  Gathering on 1858/3/1. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 105.
95.  Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 84.
96.  Translations of the vassals’ positions are based on those in Ravina,
Land and Lordship.
97.  Gathering on 1855/5/10. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 128.
98.  Gathering on 1855/6/?. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 128.
99.  Gathering on 1856/8/27. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 143.
100.  Gathering on 1856/9/10. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 145.
101.  Gathering on 1856/12/16. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 148.
102.  Gathering on 1857/2/9. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 152.
103.  Gathering on 1857/3/24. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 156.
104.  Gathering on 1857/4/29. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 163.
105.  Gathering on 1857/11/24. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 169.
106.  Ii Hiroko, “Oku jochū no chanoyu,” 214.
107.  Gathering on 1858/1/29. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 171.
108.  Gathering on 1858/2/18. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 173.
109.  Hina to Hina-dōgu, plate 50.
110.  Gathering on 1856/1/26. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 130.
111.  Gathering on 1856/3/19. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 136.
112.  Gathering on 1856/3/13. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 134.
113.  Gathering on 1856/4/4. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 139.
114.  Gathering on 1859/?/27. Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” 175.
115.  Gatherings on 1855/2/19, 1856/3/16, 1856/4/4, 1856/9/10, 1857/2/9,
1857/3/24, 1857/8/10, and 1857/11/24: Tanihata, “Ii Naosuke no
chakai-ki,” 124, 133, 139, 145, 152, 156, 168, 169. Gatherings on
1859/10/10, 1859/12/24, and 1860/1/26: Ansei Manen Mizuya-chō,
178, 181, 182.
116.  Ii Hiroko, “Oku jochū no chanoyu,” 202, 214–225; Tanimura, Ii Nao-
suke, 202–204.

Chapter 4:  Guides for Cultivating Femininity

1.  See, for example, Hayek, “Esoteric Tools to Handbooks.”
2.  Many of the texts discussed in this chapter are categorized in the Japa-
nese literature as ōraimono or joshi yō ōraimono because they were
largely aimed at a female audience. The term ōraimono is variously
translated as “textbook,” “primer,” “manual,” or “moral guide.” Some
of the texts examined here, however, could be categorized under other
terms, such as kinmōzui or chōhōki (which will be defined shortly).
160 Notes to Pages 99–103

Here they are grouped together as “guides for women’s edification” to

indicate the similarities between them and their common purpose,
which was to provide information and instructions on the lifestyles of
elite women for the improvement (moral, intellectual, and social) of
lower-status women. Another possible term suggested by William Lind-
sey is “women’s lifestyle guides.” See Lindsey, Fertility and Pleasure,
10. Peter Kornicki has referred to them as “conduct books for women.”
See Kornicki, “Unsuitable Books for Women?,” 182. For an outline of
the history of the term ōraimono, see Ishikawa, Joshiyō ōraimono
bunrui mokuroku, 1–10; and Rüttermann, “What Does ‘Literature of
Correspondence’ Mean?”
3.  For definitions and descriptions of the terms, see Berry, Japan in
Print, 196; Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 38; and Kinski, “Treasure
Boxes, Fabrics, and Mirrors.”
4.  See Berry, Japan in Print, 196.
5.  Okuda, Onna yō kinmōzui.
6.  Ishikawa, Joshiyō ōraimono bunrui mokuroku, 9–13.
7.  Unfortunately, no data are available on print runs and prices for such
texts to establish just how accessible they were. See Kornicki, The
Book in Japan, 184–187.
8.  See Hayakawa et al., Nichibunken shozō kinsei enpon shiryō shūsei 4.
9.  Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 328. Similarly, Anne Walthall uses the
phrase “cultural database of civilized knowledge” in her “Networking
for Pleasure and Profit,” 96.
10.  Tocco, “Norms and Texts,” 197.
11.  Kornicki, “Women, Education, and Literacy,” 29–30.
12.  Lindsey has suggested this in regard to information about betrothal
presents too. See Lindsey, Fertility and Pleasure, 141.
13.  Pitelka, Handmade Culture, 93.
14.  Mostow, “Illustrated Classical Texts,” 59.
15.  Mostow, “Illustrated Classical Texts,” 59. Nakano Setsuko has argued
that cultivating gentility (yasashisa) was an apparent benefit of study-
ing waka for commoner women. She discusses various edification
guides that promoted the study of classical poetry for such reasons.
Nakano, Kangaeru onnatachi, 79–110.
16.  See Kornicki, “Unsuitable Books for Women?”; and Mostow, “Illus-
trated Classical Texts.”
17.  Joshua Mostow discusses the presentation of the Hyakunin isshu po-
etry anthology in Essential Knowledge. Mostow, “Illustrated Classical
Texts,” 77–79.
Notes to Pages 103–112161

18.  Arditi, Genealogy of Manners, 15.

19.  Arditi, Genealogy of Manners, 15.
20.  Takada, Joyō fukuju-dai, 18. See the similarities with Kimura, Shinzō
onna shorei ayanishiki, 2:18.
21.  Takada, Joyō fukuju-dai, 19.
22.  The guide Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki (discussed below) also has a
diagram of the arrangement of utensils on a stand as its first illustration
in the section on utensils. Kimura, Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki,
2:24.
23.  Takada, Joyō fukuju-dai, 19.
24.  This was a new, expanded edition of an earlier guide by Kitao To-
kinobu, Treasury of the Brocade of Women’s Manners for Daily Life
(Nichiyō chōhō onna shorei ayanishiki). Kimura, Shinzō onna shorei
ayanishiki, 2:22.
25.  Kimura, Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki, 2:20.
26.  Kimura, Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki, 2:18.
27.  Kimura, Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki, 2:19.
28.  Bourdieu, Distinction, 2.
29.  Ōguchi, Toji no tamoto, 202.
30.  Kimura, Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki, 2:18.
31.  Kimura, Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki, 2:13–14.
32.  Kimura, Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki, 2:19.
33.  Kimura, Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki, 2:17.
34.  Kimura, Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki, 2:17.
35.  Takada, Joyō fukuju-dai, 18–19.
36.  Takada, Joyō fukuju-dai, 18.
37.  Nan chōhōki, 266–275.
38.  See Kinski, “Basic Japanese Etiquette Rules,” 80.
39.  Naitō, Onna rōei kyōkunka.
40.  See, for example, Ikeda Tōri, Shūgyoku hyakunin isshu ogura
shiori, 290.
41.  Ikeda Tōri, Shūgyoku hyakunin isshu ogura shiori, 290.
42.  Shimokōbe, Onna kuku no koe, 296–297.
43.  Gary Leupp discusses the example of the wife of Numano Rokubei, a
pawnshop operator. She kept a record on the employment of maidser-
vants from 1838 to 1858 that listed yearly and daily wages, along other
information. Leupp suggests, “Clearly the woman maintaining this re-
cord was not only numerate; she aimed for precision in remunerating
her employees.” Leupp, “Population Registers,” 75.
44.  Ume, Jokyō taizen himebunko, 291.
162 Notes to Pages 112–119

45.  T akada, Joyō fukuju-dai, 18; Kimura, Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki,
2:19.
46.  Kimura, Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki, 2:19.
47.  Yamakawa, Women of the Mito Domain, 19.
48.  Yamakawa, Women of the Mito Domain, xiv–xv.
49.  Gramlich-Oka, Thinking like a Man, 197.
50.  Kimura, Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki, 2:19.
51.  Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 151.
52.  Takada, Joyō fukuju-dai, 18.
53.  Ume, Jokyō taizen himebunko, 291–294.
54.  Kimura, Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki, 2:13, 16.
55.  Ikeda Tōri, Shūgyoku hyakunin isshu ogura shiori, 290.
56.  Naitō, Onna rōei kyōkunka.
57.  Morinaga, “Gender of Onnagata,” 268.
58.  Kato, Tea Ceremony, 67.
59.  See Ogyū Sorai’s comments on this in Ogyū, Seidan, 148–149.
60.  Griswold, “Sexuality, Textuality,” 72.
61.  Takai, “Tenpōki no aru shōnen to shōjo,” 147; Takai, Tenpōki shōnen
shōjo, 20–21; Tocco, “Norms and Texts,” 207–208.
62.  The iroha is a classical Japanese poem learned and recited to memorize
the Japanese syllabary.
63.  Takai, “Tenpōki no aru shōnen to shōjo,” 149.
64.  Takai, Tenpōki shōnen shōjo, 27.
65.  Takai, Tenpōki shōnen shōjo, 37–38, 41.
66.  Onna shisho geibun zue.
67.  Okada, Konrei dōgu zushū.
68.  Okada, Konrei dōgu zushū, 60–105.
69.  Morinaga discusses the idea of “degrees” of femininity in “Gender of
Onnagata,” 262.
70.  Skeggs, “Context and Background,” 5–6.
71.  Lovell, “Thinking Feminism,” 20–21; Skeggs, “Context and Back-
ground,” 10–11.
72.  Lovell, “Thinking Feminism,” 23.
73.  For examples of such contests, see Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 273.
74.  Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 273–274.
75.  Ikegami, Bonds of Civility, 274. Although this was the ostensible rea-
son, other motivations may in fact have been behind the confiscation of
the family’s property.
76.  Lovell, “Thinking Feminism,” 20–21.
77.  Lovell, “Thinking Feminism,” 24.
Notes to Pages 119–127163

78.  F rom a contemporary feminist perspective, it is tempting to read this

process of training of the body as potentially constraining for women.
In presenting a positive evaluation of this process, I do not mean to
discount the possibility of such an interpretation. Rather, I mean to
show that for women at that time, and their families, it was regarded
positively.
79.  Kato, Tea Ceremony, 5.
80.  Kornicki, “Unsuitable Books for Women?”; Rowley, “Tale of Genji.”
81.  Kato, Tea Ceremony, 67.
82.  Berry, Japan in Print, 207.

Chapter 5:  Guides for Modern Life

1.  The idea of an “Edo-Meiji” frame comes from Carol Gluck, “ ‘Meiji’
for Our Time,” 23.
2.  Despite the abolition of outcaste categories, however, discrimination
remained pervasive and is still an issue in contemporary Japan for de-
scendants of these groups.
3.  See Tocco, “Made in Japan.”
4.  Nolte and Hastings, “Meiji State’s Policy toward Women,” 158; Kath-
leen S. Uno, “Death of ‘Good Wife, Wise Mother’?,” 298–299.
5.  Newell, “Women Primary School Teachers,” 25.
6.  Mackie, Feminism in Modern Japan, 25; Surak, Making Tea, 73–74.
7.  Tipton, “How to Manage a Household.”
8.  Tipton, Modern Japan, 71.
9.  See Shively, “Japanization”; Pyle, New Generation; Gluck, Japan’s
Modern Myths, 23–26; and Tipton, Modern Japan, 65–83.
10.  Kondō, Katei hōten, 101.
11.  Kumakura, Kindai chadō shi no kenkyū, 115–116.
12.  Kramer, “Tea Cult in History,” 145.
13.  Kumakura, Kindai chadō shi no kenkyū, 116–117.
14.  Kumakura, Kindai chadō shi no kenkyū, 164–165.
15.  See Guth, Art, Tea, and Industry; and Surak, Making Tea, 69–72.
16.  Guth, Art, Tea, and Industry, 94.
17.  Harris, “All the World a Melting Pot?” 29, 43, 49.
18.  Okakura, Book of Tea.
19.  Okakura, Book of Tea, 4.
20.  Okakura, Book of Tea, 6.
21.  Both authors indicate that they were inspired by Okakura to write
about tea for a Western audience.
22.  Surak, Making Tea, 79–90.
164 Notes to Pages 127–131

23.  Fukukita, Tea Cult of Japan, 12.

24.  See, for example, Kumakura, Kindai chadō shi no kenkyū, 296–304;
Kumakura, “History of Chanoyu,” 20; Kobayashi Yoshiho, “Kōtō
jogakkō ni okeru ‘hana/cha’ no juyō,” 45–59; Kobayashi Yoshiho,
“Meiji sho/chūki, joshi chūtō kyōiku ni okeru ‘hana/cha’ no juyō,” 12–
22; Yokota Yaemi, “Josei to chadō kyōiku”; Kato, “ ‘Art’ for Men,”
142; and Kato, Tea Ceremony, 63–64.
25.  Kumakura, Kindai chadō shi no kenkyū, 296–304. On Atomi Gakuen,
see Kagotani, Josei to chanoyu, 209–210; and Mehl, “Women Educa-
tors.” On the Kyoto Prefectural Girls’ School, see Kobayashi Yoshiho,
“Meiji sho/chūki, joshi chūtō kyōiku ni okeru ‘hana/cha’ no juyō,”
12–13; and Yokota Yaemi, “Josei to chadō kyōiku,” 86.
26.  Surak, Making Tea, 77–78; Kobayashi Yoshiho, “Shokuminchi Taiwan
no kōtō jogakkō.”
27.  For example, see Fukuzawa Yukichi’s satirical fable criticizing the
practices of eyebrow shaving and teeth blackening among Japa-
nese women. Fukuzawa, “Katawa musume”; Eiichi, Fukuzawa
Yukichi, 3–5.
28.  Surak, Making Tea, 75.
29.  Tsuboya, Nihon joreishiki; Tsuboya, Nihon joreishiki taizen.
30.  Tsuboya, Nihon joreishiki, 317–384.
31.  Tsuboya, Nihon joreishiki taizen, 2:36–85.
32.  Okamoto, Johō.
33.  Okamoto, Johō, 1–56.
34.  Kokubu, Katei nichiyō fujo hōkan, 1248. A similar statement is found
in Imperial Women’s Association, Fujoshi no honbun, 138.
35.  Tsuboya, Nihon joreishiki taizen, 2:36.
36.  Surak, Making Tea, 75–76.
37.  Ikeda Tsunetarō, Joshi no ōkoku, 102–103.
38.  Fukuzawa, “Shin onna daigaku”; Eiichi, Fukuzawa Yukichi, 224.
39.  Ikeda Tsunetarō, Joshi no ōkoku, 102–103.
40.  Bacon, Japanese Girls and Women, 432.
41.  Harada, Wafuku saihō tehodoki, 4:1–70.
42.  Kokubu, Katei nichiyō fujo hōkan, 1247–1248.
43.  Sato, New Japanese Woman, 92. One hundred sen = one yen.
44.  From the late 1890s to the mid-1910s, approximately 2 to 3 percent of
girls went on to postprimary education; by the 1920s the percentage
had risen to around 10 percent. Sand, House and Home, 60. On stu-
dents in girls’ higher schools in this period, see Hiraishi, “ ‘Jogakusei
shinwa’ no tanjō o megutte,” 33–50.
Notes to Pages 132–135165

45.  Sato, New Japanese Woman, 91.

46.  Rikyū-ryū, “Chanoyu tebiki” 1, no. 9, 88–91; no. 10, 88–93; no. 11,
85–89; no. 14, 87–90.
47.  Rikyū-ryū, “Chanoyu tebiki” 1, no. 9, 88.
48.  Copeland, Lost Leaves, 8.
49.  Copeland, Lost Leaves, 13.
50.  Iwahori, “Jogaku zasshi (The Women’s Magazine),” 401–402.
51.  For example, see “Chanoyu no koto,” 157; and “Chanoyu no hai-
subeshi,” 24.
52.  M atsu toku aoi nigi Ōoku sugoroku, Edo-Tokyo Museum, item no.
96201764.
53.  Guides from the first decade of the twentieth century that present basic
information on tea culture—including instructions on the procedures
for making, serving, and drinking tea—but contain no specific discus-
sion of tea’s place in society include Matsui, Fujo no shiori, 204–206;
Kaneko, Joshi no tomo, 130–139; Japan Household Economy Associ-
ation, Katei hōten, 1, 459–615; Harada, Wafuku saihō tehodoki,
1–70; Uno Chōji, Katei no takara, 856–880; Kotani, Katei jitsuyō
hyakka daien, 343–410; and Senior Institute for Girls’ Sewing, Katei
setsuyō, 173–179.
54.  Miwata, Joshi kajikun jōkan, 1, 26.
55.  Sand, House and Home, 25–27; Ambaras, “Social Knowledge,” 25;
Muta, “Images of the Family,” 54; Nishikawa Yūko, “Changing Form
of Dwellings,” 21.
56.  Muta, “Images of the Family,” 54.
57.  Muta, “Images of the Family,” 63.
58.  This slogan was affixed to the “Home” column in each issue of the
magazine The Sun (Taiyō). Muta, “Images of the Family in Meiji Peri-
odicals,” 64.
59.  Ambaras, “Social Knowledge,” 25.
60.  For example, Japan Association for Household Economy, Katei hōten
1, 459–615; Kondō, Katei hōten, 101–155; Uno Chōji, Katei no ta-
kara, 856–880; Kotani, Katei jitsuyō hyakka daien, 343–410; Senior
Institute for Girls’ Sewing, Katei setsuyō, 173–179; and Kokubu, Ka-
tei nichiyō fujo hōkan, 1246–1280.
61.  Kobayashi Hikogorō and Harada, Fujin shūyō to jissai, 107.
62.  Sato, New Japanese Woman, 134.
63.  Kobayashi Hikogorō and Harada, Fujin shūyō to jissai, 102.
64.  Kobayashi Hikogorō and Harada, Fujin shūyō to jissai, 102.
65.  Kobayashi Hikogorō and Harada, Fujin shūyō to jissai, 103–104.
166 Notes to Pages 135–143

66.  Kobayashi Hikogorō and Harada, Fujin shūyō to jissai, 105–106.

67.  Nolte and Hastings, “Meiji State’s Policy toward Women,” 172.
68.  Kondō, Joshi shokugyō annai, 193–201.
69.  Kondō, Katei hōten, 101–155.
70.  Kondō, Joshi shokugyō annai, 193. Another guide also gave a scathing
criticism of contemporary tea masters as “professional entertainers”
who simply used tea to make money, going against the true spirit of tea.
See Ikeda Tsunetarō, Joshi no ōkoku, 103–105.
71.  Kondō, Joshi shokugyō annai, 194.
72.  Kondō, Joshi shokugyō annai, 194–195.
73.  Kondō, Joshi shokugyō annai, 196–199.
74.  It is not clear why the author shifts here to saying how little the income
would be when earlier he said if a tea teacher had ten students, she
could live a good lifestyle.
75.  Kondō, Joshi shokugyō annai, 199–201.
76.  Tea teaching is not mentioned as being a suitable occupation for wid-
ows, although that was sometimes suggested as a reason why women
went into teaching. See Nishiyama, Iemoto no kenkyū, 146; Iwao,
Japanese Woman, 35; and Kato, Tea Ceremony, 67.
77.  Kondō, Joshi shokugyō annai, 43.
78.  Kondō, Joshi shokugyō annai, 178.
79.  Kondō, Joshi shokugyō annai, 318.
80.  Kondō, Joshi shokugyō annai, 455.
81.  Chimoto, “Birth of the Full-Time Housewife,” 55. Because no na-
tional census was conducted at the time, these figures are not entirely
accurate.
82.  Chimoto, “Birth of the Full-Time Housewife,” 48.

Epilogue
1.  See Kato, Tea Ceremony; and Corbett, “Crafting Identity.”
2.  Sato, New Japanese Woman, 134.
3.  Hoshi, “Chadō to seishin shūyō,” 68.
4.  Miwata, “Shinsan o home tsukushite,” 154.
5.  Kathleen S. Uno, “Death of ‘Good Wife, Wise Mother’?,” 301.
6.  See Sato, New Japanese Woman, 45–77; and Silverberg, “Modern
Girl as Militant.”
7.  While the numbers of working middle-class women increased during
the 1920s, they still constituted a minority of women and a minority
of the entire workforce. They did, however, become the subject of
much attention because of concerns held by conservative bureaucrats
Notes to Pages 143–144167

and social commentators about how middle-class women working

outside the home would affect the family and social stability. See
Nagy, “Middle-Class Working Women.”
8.  Hoshi, “Chadō to seishin shūyō,” 68.
9.  Miwata, “Shinsan o home tsukushite,” 154.
10.  On working women (shokugyō fujin), see Murakami, Taishōki no
shokugyō fujin.
11.  Ashikari, “Memory of the Women’s White Faces,” 69.
12.  Cited in Brown, “Flowers of Taishō,” 21. The bracketed interpolation is
Brown’s.
13.  Robertson, Takarazuka, 73.
14.  Kornicki, “Unsuitable Books for Women?,” 182.
15.  Kornicki, “Unsuitable Books for Women?,” 183.
 Bibliography

Aikawa Jindō, ed. Edo jidai josei bunko. 100 vols. Tokyo: Ōzorasha, 1995.
Amano Haruko. Joshi shosokugata ōrai ni kansuru kenkyū. Tokyo: Kazama
Shobō, 1998.
Ambaras, David R. “Social Knowledge, Cultural Capital, and the New Middle
Class in Japan, 1895–1912.” Journal of Japanese Studies 24, no. 1
(1998): 1–33.
Ansei Manen Mizuya-chō (1859/2/19–1860/2/19). Reprinted in full in Tani-
hata Akio, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” Chanoyu bunka gaku 3 (March
1996): 177–183.
Arditi, Jorge. A Genealogy of Manners: Transformations of Social Relations
in France and England from the Fourteenth to the Eighteenth Century.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998.
Ashikari, Mikiko. “The Memory of the Women’s White Faces: Japaneseness and
the Ideal Image of Women.” Japan Forum 15, no. 1 (2003): 55–79.
Bacon, Alice Mabel. Japanese Girls and Women. London: Gay and Bird, 1905.
Beerens, Anna. “Interview with Two Ladies of the Ōoku: A Translation from
Kyūji Shimonroku.” Monumenta Nipponica 63, no. 2 (2008): 265–324.
Bennett, Judith M. History Matters: Patriarchy and the Challenge of Femi-
nism. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006.
Berry, Mary Elizabeth. Hideyoshi. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University
Press, 1982.
———. Japan in Print: Information and Nation in the Early Modern Period.
Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006.
Bourdieu, Pierre. Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste.
Translated by Richard Nice. London: Routledge, 1984.
———. The Logic of Practice. Translated by Richard Nice. Cambridge, UK:
Polity Press, 1990.
Brandon, James R., and Samuel L. Leiter. Kabuki Plays on Stage. Vol. 2, Vil-
lainy and Vengeance, 1773–1799. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i
Press, 2002.

169
170Bibliography

Brown, Kendall H. “Flowers of Taishō: Images of Women in Japanese Society

and Art, 1915–1935.” In Taishō Chic: Japanese Modernity, Nostalgia
and Deco, edited by Lorna Price and Letitia O’Connor, 17–28. Honolulu:
­Honolulu Academy of Arts, 2001.
Carter, Steven D. Traditional Japanese Poetry: An Anthology. Stanford, Calif.:
Stanford University Press, 1991.
———. Waiting for the Wind: Thirty-Six Poets of Japan’s Late Medieval
Age. New York: Columbia University Press, 1989.
“Chanoyu no haisubeshi.” Jogaku zasshi 13 (January 25, 1886).
“Chanoyu no koto.” Jogaku zasshi 8 (November 10, 1885).
Chiba, Kaeko. Japanese Women, Class and the Tea Ceremony: The Voices of
Tea Practitioners in Northern Japan. London: Routledge, 2011.
Chikamatsu Monzaemon. Yari no Gonza kasane katabira (1717). Reprinted
in Nihon koten bungaku zenshū 44: Chikamatsu Monzaemon shū, ed-
ited by Torigoe Bunzō, 309–362. Tokyo: Shōgakkan, 1975.
Chimoto Akio. “The Birth of the Full-Time Housewife in the Japanese Worker’s
Household as Seen through Family Budget Surveys.” Translated by Diana
Lynn Bethel. U.S-Japan Women’s Journal, English Supplement 8 (1995):
37–63.
Copeland, Rebecca L. Lost Leaves: Women Writers of Meiji Japan. Honolulu:
University of Hawai‘i Press, 2000.
Corbett, Rebecca. “Crafting Identity as a Tea Practitioner in Early Modern Ja-
pan: Ōtagaki Rengetsu and Tagami Kikusha.” U.S.-Japan Women’s Jour-
nal 47 (2014): 3–27.
———. “Learning to Be Graceful: Tea in Early Modern Guides for Women’s
Edification.” Japanese Studies 29 (2009): 81–94.
Demura-Devore, Paul E. “The Political Institutionalization of Tea Specialists in
Seventeenth Century Tokugawa Japan: The Case of Sen Sōtan and Sons.”
PhD diss., University of Hawai‘i, 2005.
Eiichi Kiyooka, trans. and ed. Fukuzawa Yukichi on Japanese Women: Se-
lected Works. Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press, 1988.
Elias, Norbert. The Civilizing Process. Oxford: Blackwell, 1994.
Elison, George. “Hideyoshi: The Bountiful Minister.” In Warlords, Artists, and
Commoners: Japan in the Sixteenth Century, edited by George Elison
and Bardwell L. Smith, 233–241. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press,
1981.
Emori Ichirō. Edo jidai josei seikatsu ezu daijiten. Vol. 4. Tokyo: Ōzorasha,
1993–1994.
Fister, Patricia, and Fumiko Y. Yamamoto. Japanese Women Artists, 1600–
1900. Lawrence: Spencer Museum of Art, University of Kansas, 1988.
Bibliography171

Flueckiger, Peter. Imagining Harmony: Poetry, Empathy, and Community in

Mid-Tokugawa Confucianism and Nativism. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford
University Press, 2011.
Formanek, Susanne. “The ‘Spectacle’ of Womanhood: New Types in Texts and
Pictures on Pictorial Sugoroku Games of the Late Edo Period.” In Writ-
ten Texts—Visual Texts: Woodblock-Printed Media in Early Modern
Japan, edited by Susanne Formanek and Sepp Linhart, 73–108. Amster-
dam: Hotei Publishing, 2005.
Fukukita, Yasunosuke. Chanoyu: Tea Cult of Japan. Tokyo: Marusen, 1932.
———. Tea Cult of Japan: An Aesthetic Pastime. 2nd ed. Tokyo: Japan Board
of Tourist Industry, Japanese Government Railways, 1934.
Fukuzawa Yukichi. “Katawa musume.” In Fukuzawa Yukichi zenshū, 3:317–
319. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1958–1971.
———. “Shin onna daigaku.” Jijishimpō (June 1–July 23, 1899).
Gerstle, C. Andrew. “Flowers of Edo: Kabuki and Its Patrons.” In 18th Century
Japan: Culture and Society, edited by C. Andrew Gerstle, 33–50. Rich-
mond, Surrey, UK: Curzon, 2000.
———. Kinsei enpon shiryō shūsei 4: Tsukioka Settei 1: Onna shimegawa
oeshibumi. Kyoto: International Research Center for Japanese Studies, 2007.
Gluck, Carol. Japan’s Modern Myths: Ideology in the Late Meiji Period.
Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1985.
———. “ ‘Meiji’ for Our Time.” In New Directions in the Study of Meiji Japan,
edited by Helen Hardacre and Adam L. Kern, 11–28. Leiden: Brill, 1997.
Gluckman, Dale Carolyn, and Sharon Sadako Takeda. When Art Became
Fashion: Kosode in Edo-Period Japan. Los Angeles: Los Angeles County
Museum of Art, 1992.
Gramlich-Oka, Bettina. Thinking like a Man: Tadano Makuzu (1763–1825).
Leiden: Brill, 2006.
Greene, Gayle, and Coppélia Kahn. “Feminist Scholarship and the Social Con-
struction of Woman.” In Making a Difference: Feminist Literary Criti-
cism, edited by Gayle Greene and Coppélia Kahn, 1–36. London:
Methuen, 1985.
Griswold, Susan. “Sexuality, Textuality and the Definition of the ‘Feminine’ in
Late Eighteenth-Century Japan.” U.S.-Japan Women’s Journal 9 (1995):
59–76.
Guth, Christine. Art, Tea, and Industry: Masuda Takashi and the Mitsui Cir-
cle. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1993.
Hanley, Susan B., and Kōzō Yamamura. Economic and Demographic Change
in Preindustrial Japan, 1600–1868. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Univer-
sity Press, 1977.
172Bibliography

Harada Yasuko. Wafuku saihō tehodoki. Tokyo: Kokkadō, 1907.

Harris, Neil. “All the World a Melting Pot? Japan at American Fairs, 1876–
1904.” In Mutual Images: Essays in American-Japanese Relations, ed-
ited by Akira Iriye, 24–54. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press,
1975.
Hata Hisako. Edo okujochū monogatari. Tokyo: Kōdansha, 2001.
———. “Servants of the Inner Quarters: The Women of the Shogun’s Great In-
terior.” Translated by Anne Walthall. In Servants of the Dynasty: Palace
Women in World History, edited by Anne Walthall, 172–190. Berkeley:
University of California Press, 2008.
Hayakawa, Monta, Shigehisa Kuriyama, and Patricia Fister. Nichibunken
shozō kinsei enpon shiryō shūsei 4. Kyoto: Kokusai Nihon Bunka
Kenkyū Sentā, 2007.
Hayashiya Tatsusaburō. “Chadō zensho no seiritsu: Iemoto seido e no michi.”
In Koten bunka no sōzō, edited by Hayashiya Tatsusaburō, 368–385.
Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppan, 1964.
Hayek, Matthias. “From Esoteric Tools to Handbooks ‘for Beginners’: Printed
Divination Books from the Seventeenth to the Beginning of the Eighteenth
Century.” In Listen, Copy, Read: Popular Learning in Early Modern
Japan, edited by Matthias Hayek and Annick Horiuchi, 288–318. Leiden:
Brill, 2014.
Hina to Hina-dōgu. Tokyo: Mainichi Shinbunsha, 1979.
Hiraishi Noriko. “ ‘Jogakusei shinwa’ no tanjō o megutte.” Jinbun ronsō: Mie
Daigaku Jinbun-Gakubu Bunka-Gakka kenkyū kiyō 18 (2001): 33–50.
Horinouchi-ke monjinroku. Reprinted in full in Nihon shomin bunka shiryō
shūsei, 10:715–730. Tokyo: San’ichi Shobō, 1973.
Hoshi no Sōetsu. “Chadō to seishin shūyō.” Jogaku sekai 15:8 (1916): 68–71.
Howell, David L. Geographies of Identity in Nineteenth-Century Japan.
Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005.
Ibaraki Kenritsu Rekishikan. Tokugawa(kyū Hitotsubashi)-ke denrai ningyō:
Amagatsu hōko hina hinadōgu gosho ningyō kamo ningyō hoka.
Mito: Ibaraki Kenritsu Rekishikan, 1983.
Iguchi Kaisen et al., eds. Chadō zenshū. 15 vols. Osaka: Sōgensha, 1935–1937.
Ii Hiroko. “Oku jochū no chanoyu.” In Ii Naosuke no chanoyu, edited by Ku-
makura Isao, 201–227. Tokyo: Kokushokankōkai, 2007.
Ii Naosuke. Ansei 6 Mizuya-chō (1859/8/24–1859/10/7). Reprinted in full in
Tanihata Akio, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” Chanoyu bunka gaku 3
(March 1996): 174–177.
———. Chanoyu ichie shū (ca. 1856). Reprinted in Sen Sōshitsu, Chadō koten
zenshū. Kyoto: Tankō Shinsha, 1967.
Bibliography173

———. Maikai Mizuya-chō (1857/11/1–1859/2/13). Reprinted in full in Tani-

hata Akio, “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki,” Chanoyu bunka gaku 3 (March
1996): 97–112.
———. “Toji no tamoto” (ca. 1856). Document no. 6699, search no. 28223.
Hikone: Hikone Castle Museum.
———. Tōto Mizuya-chō. Reprinted in full in Tanihata Akio, “Ii Naosuke
chakai-ki,” Chanoyu: Kenkyū to shiryō 16 (1979): 46–75.
Ikeda Tōri. Onna terako chōhōki (1806). Reprinted in Chōhōki shiryō shūsei
8: Ōraimono 3: Tōji senyō terako chōhōki, edited by Nagatomo Chyoji,
116–285. Kyoto: Rinsen.
———. Shūgyoku hyakunin isshu ogura shiori (1836). In Edo jidai josei sei-
katsu ezu daijiten 4, edited by Emori Ichiro. Tokyo: Ōzorasha, 1993.
Ikeda Tsunetarō. Joshi no ōkoku. Tokyo: Nanpūsha, 1903.
Ikegami, Eiko. Bonds of Civility: Aesthetic Networks and the Political Ori-
gins of Japanese Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005.
Imperial Women’s Association. Fujoshi no honbun. Tokyo: Kōbundō, 1905.
Ishikawa Ken. Joshiyō ōraimono bunrui mokuroku: Edo jidai ni okeru
joshiyō shotō kyōkasho no hattatsu. Tokyo: Dainihon Yūbenkai
Kōdansha, 1946.
Iwahori Yoko. “Jogaku zasshi (The Women’s Magazine) and the Construction of
the Ideal Wife in the Mid-Meiji Era.” Translated by Richard V. Saberton. In
Gender and Japanese History 2, edited by Wakita Haruko, Anne Bouchy,
and Ueno Chizuko, 391–411. Osaka: Osaka University Press, 1999.
Iwaki Noriko. “ ‘E-sugoroku’ ni miru machi-musume to Ō-oku: Edo josei no
akogare.” Rekishi yomihon 43, no. 6 (1998): 248–253.
Iwao, Sumiko. Japanese Woman: Traditional Image and Changing Reality.
New York: Free Press, 1993.
Japan Household Economy Association. Katei hōten. Tokyo: Maekawa Bunei-
kaku, 1906.
Johnson, Matthew. Introduction to Meiboku Sendai Hagi (1777). In Kabuki
Plays on Stage, vol. 2, Villainy and Vengeance, 1773–1799, edited by
James R. Brandon and Samuel L. Leiter, 50–52. Honolulu: University of
Hawai‘i Press, 2002.
Kagotani Machiko. Josei to chanoyu. Kyoto: Tankōsha, 1985.
Kaiseki-fu (1852/2/20–1858/2/28). Reprinted in full in Tanihata Akio, “Ii Nao-
suke no chakai-ki,” Chanoyu bunka gaku 3 (March 1996): 121–174.
Kamiya Sōtan. Sōtan nikki. Reprinted in Chadō koten zenshū 6, edited by Sen
Sōshitsu, 131–403. Kyoto: Tankō Shinsha, 1958.
Kaneko Aiichirō. Joshi no tomo. Ueno Village, Tochigi Prefecture: Kaneko
Aiichirō, 1906.
174Bibliography

Kato, Etsuko. “ ‘Art’ for Men, ‘Manners’ for Women: How Women Transformed
the Tea Ceremony in Modern Japan.” In Women as Sites of Culture:
Women’s Roles in Cultural Formation from the Renaissance to the
Twentieth Century, edited by Susan Shifrin, 139–149. Hampshire, UK:
Ashgate, 2002.
———. The Tea Ceremony and Women’s Empowerment in Modern Japan:
Bodies Re-Presenting the Past. London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2004.
Keene, Donald, trans. Major Plays of Chikamatsu. New York: Columbia Uni-
versity Press, 1990.
———. World within Walls: Japanese Literature of the Pre-modern Era,
1600–1867. London: Secker and Warburg, 1976.
Kimura Shigeo. Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki (Osaka, 1841). Reprinted in
full in Edo jidai josei bunko 40, edited by Aikawa Jindō. Tokyo:
Ōzorasha, 1995.
Kindai Nihon joshi kyōiku bunkenshū 16. Tokyo: Nihon Tosho Sentā, 2002.
Kinski, Michael. “Basic Japanese Etiquette Rules and Their Popularization:
Four Edo-Period Texts, Transcribed, Translated, and Annotated.” Japon-
ica Humboldtiana 5 (2001): 63–123.
———. “Treasure Boxes, Fabrics, and Mirrors: On the Contents and the Clas-
sification of Popular Encyclopedias from Early Modern Japan.” In Listen,
Copy, Read: Popular Learning in Early Modern Japan, edited by Mat-
thias Hayek and Annick Horiuchi, 70–88. Leiden: Brill, 2014.
Kitao Tokinobu. Nichiyō chōhō onna shorei ayanishiki (Osaka, 1772). In Edo
jidai josei bunko 40, edited by Aikawa Jindō. Tokyo: Ōzorasha, 1995.
Kobayashi Hikogorō and Harada Tenrai. Fujin shūyō to jissai. Tokyo: Isseisha,
1911.
Kobayashi Yoshiho. “Kōtō jogakkō ni okeru ‘hana/cha’ no juyō: Kōtō jogakkō
reishikogō, taishōki o chūshin ni.” Joseishigaku 12 (2002): 45–59.
———. “Meiji sho/chūki, joshi chūtō kyōiku ni okeru ‘hana/cha’ no juyō—
Kyōto fu joshi gakkō o chūshin ni.” Nomura Bijutsukan kenkyū kiyō 11
(2002): 12–22.
———. “Shokuminchi Taiwan no kōtō jogakkō to reigisahō kūkan.” Kyoto:
Nichibunken, 2009.
Kokubu Misako. Katei nichiyō fujo hōkan. Tokyo: Ōkura Shoten, 1912.
Kondō Shōichi. Joshi shokugyō annai. Tokyo: Hakubunkan, 1906.
———. Katei hōten. Tokyo: Tōyōsha, 1906.
Kornicki, Peter F. The Book in Japan: A Cultural History from the Begin-
nings to the Nineteenth Century. Leiden: Brill, 1998.
———. “Manuscript, Not Print: Scribal Culture in the Edo Period.” Journal of
Japanese Studies 32, no. 1 (2006): 23–52.
Bibliography175

———. “Unsuitable Books for Women? Genji monogatari and Ise monogatari
in Late Seventeenth-Century Japan.” Monumenta Nipponica 60, no. 2
(2005): 147–193.
———. “Women, Education, and Literacy.” In The Female as Subject: Reading
and Writing in Early Modern Japan, edited by Peter F. Kornicki, Mara
Patessio, and G. G. Rowley, 7–38. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Stud-
ies, University of Michigan, 2010.
Kornicki, Peter F., Mara Patessio, and G. G. Rowley, eds. The Female as Sub-
ject: Reading and Writing in Early Modern Japan. Ann Arbor: Center
for Japanese Studies, University of Michigan, 2010.
Kotani Masayuki. Katei jitsuyō hyakka daien. Tokyo: Dai Nihon Katei Gak-
kai, 1910.
Kramer, Robert. “The Tea Cult in History.” PhD diss., University of Chicago,
1985.
Kumakura Isao. Chadō shokin 6: Kindai no chanoyu. Tokyo: Shogakukan,
1985.
———. “The History of Chanoyu in Early-Modern Japan.” Translated by Zane
Ferry. Chanoyu Quarterly 75 (1994): 7–22.
———. Kan’ei bunka no kenkyū. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1998.
———. “Kan’ei Culture and Chanoyu.” In Tea in Japan: Essays on the His-
tory of Chanoyu, edited by Paul Varley and Kumakura Isao, 135–160.
Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 1989.
———. Kindai chadō shi no kenkyū. Tokyo: Nihon Hōsō Shuppan Kyōkai,
1980.
———. Shiryō: Ii Naosuke no chanoyu 2. Hikone: Hikone Castle Museum,
2007.
Kusama Naokata. Chaki meibutsu zui. Tokyo: Bunsaisha, 1976.
Lebra, Joyce Chapman. “Women in an All-Male Industry: The Case of the Sake
Brewer Tatsu’uma Kiyo.” In Recreating Japanese Women, 1600–1945,
edited by Gail Lee Bernstein, 131–148. Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1991.
Lerner, Gerda. The Creation of Patriarchy. New York: Oxford University Press,
1986.
———. The Majority Finds Its Past: Placing Women in History. New York:
Oxford University Press, 1979.
———. “Placing Women in History: Definitions and Challenges.” Feminist
Studies 3, no. 1 (1975): 5–14.
———. “Placing Women in History: Definitions and Challenges.” In The Ma-
jority Finds Its Past: Placing Women in History, edited by Gerda Lerner,
145–159. London: Oxford University Press, 1979.
176Bibliography

Leupp, Gary P. “Population Registers and Household Records as Sources for

the Study of Urban Women in Tokugawa Japan.” Gest Library Journal 5,
no. 2 (1992): 49–86.
———. Servants, Shophands, and Laborers in the Cities of Tokugawa Japan.
Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1992.
Lindsey, William R. Fertility and Pleasure: Ritual and Sexual Values in
Tokugawa Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2007.
Lovell, Terry. “Thinking Feminism with and against Bourdieu.” Feminist The-
ory 1, no. 1 (2000): 11–32.
Ludwig, Theodore M. “Chanoyu and Momoyama: Conflict and Transforma-
tion in Rikyū’s Art.” In Tea in Japan: Essays on the History of Cha-
noyu, edited by Paul Varley and Kumakura Isao, 71–100. Honolulu: Uni-
versity of Hawai‘i Press, 1989.
Mackie, Vera. Feminism in Modern Japan. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2003.
Matsui Senpu. Fujo no shiori. Tokyo: Miwa Shin’ichi, 1901.
McCullough, Helen Craig, comp. and ed. Classical Japanese Prose: An An-
thology. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1990.
Meeks, Lori. Hokkeji and the Reemergence of Female Monastic Orders in
Premodern Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2010.
Mehl, Margaret. “Women Educators and the Confucian Tradition in Meiji Ja-
pan (1868–1912): Miwata Masako and Atomi Kakei.” Women’s History
Review 10, no. 4 (2001): 587–593.
Miwata Masako. Joshi kajikun jōkan. Tokyo: Shōeido, 1901–1903.
———. “Shinsan o name tsukushite shingane no gotoshi.” In Kekkon zengo no
shūyō, edited by Tanaka Hisashi, 154. Tokyo: Shōeido, 1916. Reprinted
in full in Kindai Nihon joshi kyōiku bunkenshū 16. Tokyo: Nihon To-
sho Sentā, 2002.
Mori, Barbara Lynn Rowland. “Women in a Traditional Art: The Japanese Tea
Ceremony in Hawaii.” Midwest Feminist Papers 6 (1986): 68–76.
Morinaga, Maki Isaka. “The Gender of Onnagata as the Imitating Imitated: Its
Historicity, Performativity, and Involvement in the Circulation of Femi-
ninity.” Positions 10, no. 2: 245–284.
———. Secrecy in Japanese Arts: “Secret Transmission” as a Mode of Knowl-
edge. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005.
Moriya, Takeshi. “Yūgei and Chōnin Society in the Edo Period.” Acta Asiatica
33 (1977): 32–54.
Mostow, Joshua S. “Illustrated Classical Texts for Women in the Edo
­Period.” In The Female as Subject: Reading and Writing in Early
Modern Japan, edited by Peter F. Kornicki, Mara Patessio, and
Bibliography177

G. G. ­Rowley, 59–85. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, Univer-

sity of Michigan, 2010.
Murai Yasuhiko. “Ō Edo no cha: Kawakami Fuhaku o chūshin ni.” In Chadō
shuūkin 5: Chanoyu no tenkai, edited by Murai Yasuhiko, 223–228.
Tokyo: Shōgakkan, 1985.
Murakami Nobuhiko. Taishōki no shokugyō fujin. Tokyo: Domesu Shuppan,
1983.
Muta Kazue. “Images of the Family in Meiji Periodicals: The Paradox Underly-
ing the Emergence of the ‘Home.’ ” Translated by Marcella S. Gregory.
U.S.-Japan Women’s Journal, English Supplement 7 (1994): 53–71.
Nagashima Imashirō and Ōta Yoshio. Teihon Edojō ōoku. Tokyo: Jinbutsu
Ōraisha, 1968.
Nagatomo Chiyoji, ed. Onna chōhōki, Otoko chōhōki—Genroku waka-
mono shintokushū. Tokyo: Shakai Shisōsha, 1993.
Nagy, Margit. “Middle-Class Working Women during the Interwar Years.” In
Recreating Japanese Women, 1600–1945, edited by Gail Lee Bernstein,
199–216. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991.
Naitō Gyokushi. Onna rōei kyōkunka (Kyoto, 1753). Reprinted in full in Edo
jidai josei bunko 100, edited by Aikawa Jindō. Tokyo: Ōzorasha, 1998.
Nakagawa Shinshō. Joryū haijin Tagami Kikusha: Inochi o aruku yasashisa
o mitsumeru. Kyoto: Honganji Shuppan, 2003.
Nakai, Nobuhiko, and James L. McClain. “Commercial Change and Urban
Growth in Early Modern Japan.” In The Cambridge History of Japan,
vol. 4, Early Modern Japan, edited by John Whitney Hall, 519–595.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991.
Nakamura Katsumaro. Ii Tairō sadō dan. Tokyo: Sōbunsha, 1914. Reprint,
Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppanki, 1978.
Nakano Setsuko. Kangaeru onnatachi: Kana-zōshi kara “Onna daigaku.”
Tokyo: Ōzorasha, 1997.
Nakano-Holmes, Julia. “Furuta Oribe: Iconoclastic Guardian of Chanoyu Tra-
dition.” PhD diss., University of Hawai‘i, 1995.
Nan chōhōki (1693). Reprinted in Onna chōhōki, Nan chōhōki: Gendai
kyōyō bunko. Tokyo: Shakai Shisōsha, 1993.
Nenzi, Laura. Excursions in Identity: Travel and the Intersection of Place,
Gender, and Status in Edo Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press,
2008.
Newell, Susan. “The Emergence of Women Primary School Teachers in Taishō
Japan.” MA thesis, University of Sydney, 1992.
Newhard, Jamie L. Knowing the Amorous Man: A History of Scholarship on
Tales of Ise. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Asia Center, 2013.
178Bibliography

Nishikawa Joken, Chōnin bukuro (1692). Reprinted in Kinsei chōnin shisō:

Nihon shisō taikei 59, edited by Nakamura Yukihiko. Tokyo: Iwanami
Shoten, 1975.
Nishikawa Yūko. “The Changing Form of Dwellings and the Establishment of
the Katei (Home) in Modern Japan.” Translated by Mariko Muro Yoko-
kawa. U.S.-Japan Women’s Journal, English Supplement 8 (1995):
3–36.
Nishiyama Matsunosuke. Iemoto no kenkyū. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan,
1982.
———. “Kinsei no yūgei-ron.” In Kinsei geidō-ron, edited by Nishiyama Mat-
sunosuke, Watanabe Ichirō, and Gunji Masakatsu, 612–644. Tokyo: Iwa-
nami Shoten, 1972.
Nolte, Sharon H., and Sally Ann Hastings. “The Meiji State’s Policy toward
Women, 1890–1910.” In Recreating Japanese Women, 1600–1945, ed-
ited by Gail Lee Bernstein, 151–174. Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1991.
Nomura Zuiten. Sekishū ryū: Rekishi to keifu. Kyoto: Kōdondui Koshoin,
1984.
———, ed. Teihon Sekishū ryū 2: Sekishū-ke chajin. Tokyo: Mitsumura Suiko
Shoin, 1985.
Ōguchi Shōō. Gyakuryū gendan. Reprinted in Teihon Sekishū ryū 2:
Sekishū-ke chajin, edited by Nomura Zuiten, 172–187. Tokyo: Mitsu-
mura Suiko Shoin, 1985.
———. Toji no tamoto (1721). Reprinted in Teihon Sekishū ryū 2: Sekishū-ke
chajin, edited by Nomura Zuiten, 188–223. Tokyo: Mitsumura Suiko
Shoin, 1985.
Oguchi, Yujiro. “The Tokugawa Shōgun’s ‘Court’ as an Economic Institution.”
In La cour comme institution économique, edited by Maurice Aymard
and Marzio Achille Romani, 209–217. Paris: Editions de la Maison des
Sciences de l’Homme, 1998.
Ogyū Sorai. Seidan (ca. 1726). Translated with annotations by Olof G. Lidin.
Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 1999.
Okada Gyokuzan, Konrei dōgu zushū (ca. 1790). Reprint, Tokyo: Gendai
Shichōsha, 1978.
Okakura, Kakuzō. The Book of Tea. 1906. Reprint, Rutland, Vt.: Charles E
Tuttle, 1956.
Okamoto Katei. Johō. Tokyo: Kin’ōdō, 1891.
Okuda Shōhakuken. Onna yō kinmōzui (Kyoto, Osaka, and Edo, 1687). Re-
printed in full in Edo jidai josei bunko 97, edited by Aikawa Jindō. To-
kyo: Ōzorasha, 1998.
Bibliography179

Onna shisho geibun zue (1835). Reprinted in full in Ōraimono taikei 85, ed-
ited by Ishikawa Matsutarō. Tokyo: Ōzorasha, 1994.
Ono Takeo. Edo bukka jiten. Tokyo: Tenbōsha, 1982.
Pitelka, Morgan. Handmade Culture: Raku Potters, Patrons, and Tea Practi-
tioners in Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2005.
———, ed. Japanese Tea Culture: Art, History, and Practice. New York: Rout-
ledgeCurzon, 2003.
———. Spectacular Accumulation: Material Culture, Tokugawa Ieyasu, and
Samurai Sociability. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2016.
———. “Tea Taste: Patronage and Collaboration among Tea Masters and Pot-
ters in Early Modern Japan.” Early Modern Japan: An Interdisciplinary
Journal (Fall–Winter, 2004): 26–38.
Pyle, Kenneth. The New Generation of Meiji Japan: Problems of Cultural
Identity, 1885–1895. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1969.
Rai Aki. “Ii Naosuke no chanoyu no shishō.” In Ii Naosuke no chanoyu, edited
by Kumakura Isao, 229–255. Tokyo: Kokushokankōkai, 2007.
Rath, Eric C. Food and Fantasy in Early Modern Japan. Berkeley: University
of California Press, 2010.
———. “Reevaluating Rikyū: Kaiseki and the Origins of Japanese Cuisine.”
Journal of Japanese Studies 39, no. 1 (2013): 67–96.
Ravina, Mark. Land and Lordship in Early Modern Japan. Stanford, Calif.:
Stanford University Press, 1999.
Rich, Adrienne. Blood, Bread, and Poetry: Selected Prose, 1979–1985. New
York: Norton, 1986.
Rikyū-ryū Iemoto. “Chanoyu tebiki.” Jogaku sekai 1 (1901), no. 9:88–91; no.
10:88–93; no. 11:85–89; no. 14:87–90.
Robertson, Jennifer. Takarazuka: Sexual Politics and Popular Culture in
Modern Japan. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998.
Rowley, G. G. “The Tale of Genji: Required Reading for Aristocratic Women.”
In The Female as Subject: Reading and Writing in Early Modern Ja-
pan, edited by Peter F. Kornicki, Mara Patessio, and G. G. Rowley, 39–57.
Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, University of Michigan, 2010.
Rubinger, Richard. Popular Literacy in Early Modern Japan. Honolulu: Uni-
versity of Hawai‘i Press, 2007.
Rüttermann, Markus. “What Does ‘Literature of Correspondence’ Mean? An
Examination of the Japanese Genre Term Ōraimono and Its History.” In
Listen, Copy, Read: Popular Learning in Early Modern Japan, edited
by Matthias Hayek and Annick Horiuchi, 139–160. Leiden: Brill, 2014.
Sadler, Arthur L. Chanoyu: The Japanese Tea Ceremony. Tokyo: J. L. Thomp-
son and Co., 1933.
180Bibliography

Saikaku Ihara. Kōshoku ichidai otoko (1682). Translated by Kenji Hamada.

Reprint, Rutland, Vt.: Charles E. Tuttle, 1959.
Sakaki, Atsuko. “Sliding Doors: Women in the Heterosocial Literary Field of
Early Modern Japan.” U.S.-Japan Women’s Journal 17 (1999): 3–35.
Sand, Jordan. “At Home in the Meiji Period: Inventing Japanese Domesticity.”
In Mirror of Modernity: Invented Traditions of Modern Japan, edited
by Stephen Vlastos, 191–207. Berkeley: University of California Press,
1998.
———. House and Home in Modern Japan: Architecture, Domestic Space,
and Bourgeois Culture, 1880–1930. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Uni-
versity Asia Center, 2003.
Sato, Barbara. The New Japanese Woman: Modernity, Media, and Women in
Interwar Japan. Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2003.
Scott, Joan. “Women’s History.” In New Perspectives on Historical Writing,
edited by Peter Burke, 42–66. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press, 1991.
Seigle, Cecilia Segawa. Kōjo Shina no Miya no nichijō seikatsu: “Mujōhōin-
dono gonikki” o yomu. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2001.
Seigle, Cecilia Segawa, and Linda H. Chance. Ōoku: The Secret World of the
Shogun’s Women. Amherst, N.Y.: Cambria Press, 2014.
Seki Tamiko. Edo kōki no joseitachi. Tokyo: Aki Shobo, 1980.
Sen Sōshitsu XV. “Autobiographical Essay 3—The Diffusion of the Way of Tea.”
Chanoyu Quarterly 73 (1993): 6.
Sen Sōshitsu [XV] et al., eds. Chadō koten zenshū. Kyoto: Tankōsha, 1956–
1962 (1967 printing).
Sendai-shi Hakubutsukan. Daimyō-ke no konrei: Ohime-sama no yomeiri
dōgu. Sendai: Sendai City Museum, 2000.
Senior Institute for Girls’ Sewing. Katei setsuyō. Tokyo: Senior Institute for
Girls’ Sewing, Publishing Division, 1910.
Shiba Keiko. Kinsei onna tabi nikki. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1997.
———. “Tabi nikki kara mita kinsei josei no ichi kōsatsu.” In Edo jidai no jo-
seitachi, edited by Kinsei Joseishi Kenkyūkai. Tokyo: Yoshikawa
Kōbunkan, 1990.
Shimazaki, Satoko. Edo Kabuki in Transition: From the Worlds of the Samu-
rai to the Vengeful Female Ghost. New York: Columbia University
Press, 2016.
Shimokōbe Jūsui. Onna kuku no koe (1787). Reprinted in full in Edo jidai
josei seikatsu ezu daijiten 4, edited by Emori Ichiro. Tokyo: Ōzorasha,
1993.
Shirane, Haruo, and James Brandon. Early Modern Japanese Literature: An
Anthology, 1600–1900. New York: Columbia University Press, 2002.
Bibliography181

Shively, Donald H. “The Japanization of the Middle Meiji.” In Tradition and

Modernization in Japanese Culture, edited by Donald H. Shively, 77–
119. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1971.
———. “The Social Environment of Tokugawa Kabuki.” In Japanese Aesthetics
and Culture: A Reader, edited by Nancy G. Hume, 193–243. Albany:
State University of New York Press, 1995.
———. “Sumptuary Regulation and Status in Early Tokugawa Japan.” Harvard
Journal of Asiatic Studies 25 (1964–1965): 123–164.
Silverberg, Miriam. “The Modern Girl as Militant.” In Recreating Japanese
Women, 1600–1945, edited by Gail Lee Bernstein, 239–266. Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1991.
Skeggs, Beverley. “Context and Background: Pierre Bourdieu’s Analysis of Class,
Gender and Sexuality.” In Feminism after Bourdieu, edited by Lisa Ad-
kins and Beverley Skeggs, 1–15. Malden, Mass.: Blackwell, 2004.
Smitka, Michael. The Japanese Economy in the Tokugawa Era, 1600–1868.
New York: Garland, 1998.
Sugano Noriko. “Terakoya to onna shishō: Edo kara meiji e.” In Nihon joseishi
ronshū 8: Kyōiku to shisō, edited by Ishizaki Shōko and Shiomi Minako,
140–158. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1998.
Surak, Kristin. Making Tea, Making Japan: Cultural Nationalism in Practice.
Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2013.
Takada Seibe’e. Joyō fukuju-dai (Kyoto, 1774, 1785). Reprinted in full in Edo
jidai josei bunko 33, edited by Aikawa Jindō. Tokyo: Ōzorasha, 1995.
Takai Hiroshi. “Tenpōki no aru shōnen to shōjo no kyōiku keisei katei no
kenkyū: Part 1.” In Gunma Daigaku Kyōiku Gakubu kiyō: Jimbun
kagaku hen 13 (1964): 139–156.
———. Tenpōki shōnen shōjo kyōyō keisei katei no kenkyū. Tokyo: Kawade
Shobō Shinsha, 1991.
Tani Akira. “Chakai-ki ni okeru josei gunzō.” Nagomi (December 1999): 93–95.
Tanihata Akio. “Daimyō chadō no tenkai to shohan no sadōyaku.” Tankō 50
(1996): 28–36.
———. “Ii Naosuke no chakai-ki.” Chanoyu bunka gaku 3 (March 1996):
81–183.
———. Kinsei chadōshi. Kyoto: Tankōsha, 1988.
———. Kuge chadō no kenkyū. Kyoto: Shibunkaku, 2005.
Tanimura Reiko. Ii Naosuke: Shūyō toshite no chanoyu. Tokyo: Sōbunsha,
2001.
———. “Tea of the Warrior in the Late Tokugawa Period.” In Japanese Tea
Culture: Art, History, and Practice, edited by Morgan Pitelka, 137–150.
New York: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003.
182Bibliography

Tipton, Elise K. “How to Manage a Household: Creating Middle Class House-

wives in Modern Japan.” Japanese Studies 29 (2009): 95–110.
———. Modern Japan: A Social and Political History. London: Routledge,
2016.
Tocco, Martha. “Made in Japan: Meiji Women’s Education.” In Gendering
Modern Japanese History, edited by Barbara Molony and Kathleen Uno,
39–60. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Asia Center, 2005.
———. “Norms and Texts for Women’s Education in Tokugawa Japan.” In
Women and Confucian Cultures in Premodern China, Korea and Ja-
pan, edited by Dorothy Ko, JaHyun Kim Haboush, and Joan R. Piggot,
193–218. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003.
Tokugawa Bijutsukan. Hatsune no chōdo. Tokugawa Bijutsukan zōhin shō,
no. 3. Nagoya: Tokugawa Art Museum, 1985.
Totman, Conrad D. Early Modern Japan. Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1993.
Tsuboya Zenshirō. Nihon joreishiki. Tokyo: Hakubunkan, 1891.
———. Nihon joreishiki taizen. Tokyo: Hakubunkan, 1897.
Tsutsui Hiroichi. Chasho no keifu. Tokyo: Bun’ichi Sogo Shuppan, 1978.
Ujiie Mikito. Edo no shōnen. Tokyo: Heibonsha, 1989.
Ume Kunitake. Jokyō taizen himebunko (1776). Reprinted in full in Edo jidai jo-
sei seikatsu ezu daijiten 4, edited by Emori Ichiro. Tokyo: Ōzorasha, 1993.
Uno Chōji. Katei no takara. Tokyo: Nihon Genkoku Kyōkai, 1909.
Uno, Kathleen S. “The Death of ‘Good Wife, Wise Mother’?” In Postwar Japan
as History, edited by Andrew Gordon, 293–322. Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1993.
Vaporis, Constantine Nomikos. Tour of Duty: Samurai, Military Service in
Edo, and the Culture of Early Modern Japan. Honolulu: University of
Hawai‘i Press, 2008.
Varley, Paul. “Chanoyu: From the Genroku Epoch to Modern Times.” In Tea in
Japan: Essays on the History of Chanoyu, edited by Paul Varley and
Isao Kumakura, 161–194. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 1989.
———. Foreword to The Japanese Way of Tea: From Its Origins in China to
Sen Rikyū, by Sen Sōshitsu, vii–xiv. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i
Press, 1998.
Varley, Paul, and George Elison. “The Culture of Tea: From Its Origins to Sen
no Rikyū.” In Warlords, Artists, and Commoners: Japan in the Six-
teenth Century, edited by George Elison and Bardwell Smith, 212–222.
Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 1981.
Veblen, Thorstein. The Theory of the Leisure Class. Oxford: Oxford Univer-
sity Press, 2007.
Bibliography183

Walthall, Anne. “Edo bunka ni okeru Ō-oku.” Journal of Gender Studies 4

(2001): 43–64.
———. “Family Ideology of Rural Entrepreneurs in Nineteenth-Century Ja-
pan.” Journal of Social History 23, no. 3 (1990): 463–483.
———. “From Peasant Daughter to Samurai Wife: The Letters of Yoshino
Michi.” Annual Report of the Institute for International Studies, Meiji
Gakuin 8 (December 2005): 97–109.
———. “Networking for Pleasure and Profit.” Monumenta Nipponica 61, no.
1 (Spring 2006): 93–103.
———. “Nishimiya Hide: Turning Palace Arts into Marketable Skills.” In The
Human Tradition in Modern Japan, edited by Anne Walthall, 45–60.
Wilmington, Del.: SR Books, 2002.
———. “Women and Literacy from Edo to Meiji.” In The Female as Subject:
Reading and Writing in Early Modern Japan, edited by Peter F. Kor-
nicki, Mara Patessio, and G. G. Rowley, 215–236. Ann Arbor: Center for
Japanese Studies, University of Michigan, 2010.
Wilson, Richard L. “The Chiyohime Dowry.” In The Tokugawa Collection:
The Japan of the Shoguns, 134–137. Montreal: Montreal Museum of
Fine Arts, 1989.
Yabunouchi-ke monjinroku. Private document belonging to the Yabunouchi
School. Tani Akira of the Nomura Bijutsukan in Kyoto has a copy, made
available to him by the head of the Yabunouchi School.
Yabuta Yutaka. Otoko to onna no kinseishi. Tokyo: Aoki Shoten, 1998.
Yamakawa Kikue. Women of the Mito Domain: Recollections of Samurai
Family Life. Translated by Kate Wildman Nakai. Tokyo: University of
Tokyo Press, 1992.
Yamamura Yoshiaki. Cha no kōzō. Kanagawa: Seori Shobō, 1996.
Yō Yōtai. Kagamiyama kokyō no nishiki-e (1782). Translated by Mark Os-
hima in Kabuki Plays on Stage, vol. 2, Villainy and Vengeance, 1773–
1799, edited by James R. Brandon and Samuel L. Leiter, 172–213. Hono-
lulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2002.
Yokota Fuyuhiko. “Imagining Working Women in Early Modern Japan.” Trans-
lated by Mariko Asano Tamanoi. In Women and Class in Japanese His-
tory, edited by Hitomi Tonomura, Anne Walthall, and Wakita Haruko,
153–167. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, University of Michi-
gan, 1999.
Yokota Yaemi. “Josei to chadō kyōiku.” Tankō: Chanoyu kono hyakunen 55,
no. 1 (2001): 84–86.
Yokoyama, Toshio. “The Illustrated Household Encyclopedias That Once Civi-
lized Japan.” In Written Texts—Visual Texts: Woodblock-Printed Me-
184Bibliography

dia in Early Modern Japan, edited by Susanne Formanek and Sepp Lin-
hart, 47–72. Amsterdam: Hotei Publishing, 2005.
———. “In Quest of Civility: Conspicuous Uses of Household Encyclopedias in
Nineteenth-Century Japan.” Zinbun 34:1 (2000): 197–222.
Yoshida Kanemi. Kanemi kyōki (1570–1592). Reprint, Tokyo: Zoku Gunsho
Ruijū Kanseikai, 1971.
Yoshimura Hitomi. “Kikusha no chakaiki o yomu.” Kikusha kenkyū nōto 2
(2007): 20–24.
 Index

Page numbers in boldface refer to clothing, 33, 61, 115

illustrations; Pl. denotes plate. Collection for a Tea Gathering
(Chanoyu ichie shū), 87
aesthetic nationalism, 126–127 Compendium of a Small Library for
aesthetic slumming, 83 Women’s Education (Jokyō taizen
aesthetic socialization, 46 himebunko), 112
alternate attendance system (sankin Compendium of Japanese Women’s
kōtai), 75 Etiquette (Nihon joreishiki taizen),
128
“The Basic Idea of the Way of Tea” Complete Writings on the Way of Tea
(Chado no geni’i), 125 (Chadō zenshō), 36–37
Bookmark of One Hundred Beautiful comportment. See tea culture: and the
Poems by One Hundred Poets body
(Shūgyoku hyakunin isshu ogura Confucianism, 70
shiori), 110, 114–115
Book of Rites (Liji), 66 daimyo cha (warlord tea), 28
The Book of Tea, 126–127 daisu. See tea utensils: utensil stands
Bourdieu, Pierre, 34–35, 118–119 Date sodo lineage of plays, 53–54, Pl. 1
bridging class, 78–79
Bunraku theatre, 47–53 economic growth, 31–32
edification guides for women (jokun/
capital, symbolic and cultural, 34–35, jokunsho), 99–103, 106–107,
46–47, 102, 115–119, 117 128–132
Chadō hiden. See Transmitted Secrets education: status and, 39–40; women
of the Way of Tea and, 37–41, 38, 123–124
Chadō zenshō. See Complete Writings Essays in Idleness (Tsurezuregusa), 69
on the Way of Tea Essential Knowledge for Women’s Pros-
chakai. See tea gatherings perity and Longevity (Joyō
chakaiki. See tea gatherings: records of fukuju-dai), 39, 102–106
Chanoyu ichie shū. See Collection for a
Tea Gathering female attendants (jochū), 75–85;
Chiba, Kaeko, 4, 14–15 participation in tea culture, 45–48,
civilization and enlightenment (bunmei 82–86, 91–96, Pl. 1–3
kaika), 123 femininity, 118, 120–121, 143–144
civilizing process, 17, 64–65, 72–73, Floating World Bathhouse (Ukiyo-
98, 103, 108, 120–121 buro), 79, 83

185
186Index

Four Pictorial Books for Women (Onna inner quarters (oku), 75–76
shisho geibun zue), 116–117 Instructions on Housework for Women
Fujiwara no Ietaka, 68 (Joshi kajikun jōkan), 133
Fujiwara no Teika, 67–68
Fukuzawa Yukichi, 130–131 Japanese Women’s Etiquette (Nihon
joreishiki), 128
Gengensai (Seichū Sōshitsu), 12–13, jochū. See female attendants
125–126 Jogaku sekai. See Schoolgirls’ World
The Gentleman’s Treasury (Nan Jogaku zasshi. See Women’s Education
chōhōki [Otoko chōhōki]), 108 Magazine
Gomizunoo, 42 Johō. See Woman’s Treasury
Gonza the Lancer (Yari no Gonza jokun/jokunsho. See edification guides
Kasane Katabira), 48–53 for women
good wives and wise mothers (ryōsai Jokyō taizen himebunko. See Compen-
kenbo), 123–125 dium of a Small Library for
Gosai, 42 Women’s Education
Grass, Person, Tree (Sōjinboku), 36–37 Joshi kajikun jōkan. See Instructions on
Guide to Occupations for Women Housework for Women
(Joshi shokugyō annai), 136–139 Joshi no ōkoku. See Women’s Kingdom
Gyakuryū gendan. See Truthful Joshi shokugyō annai. See Guide to
Conversations, Contrary to Public Occupations for Women
Opinions Joshinsai Tennen, 44–45
Joyō fukuju-dai. See Essential Knowl-
haiken. See tea utensils: display of edge for Women’s Prosperity and
Handy Manual for Sewing Japanese Longevity
Clothes (Wafuku saihō tehodoki),
131 Kabuki theatre, 53–54, 78, Pl. 1
historiography: and feminism, 5–17; Kamiya Sōtan, 44–45
and tea culture, 3–13 Katagiri Sekishū, 30
home (katei), 133–134 Katagiri Sōen, 89–90
Horinouchi school, 7, 28 Katagiri Sōtetsu, 90, 158n81
katei. See home
Ichio Sōshu, 28 Katei nichiyō fujo hōkan. See A
identity: gender, 1, 47–48, 139–140, Precious Mirror for Women’s
143; national, 1, 124–125, Daily Use in the Home
139–140, 143 Kato, Etsuko, 5–6, 9, 14–15, 35,
Iemoto system, 29–30, 120 119–120
Ihara Saikaku, 33, 85 Kawakami Fuhaku, 44–45
Ii Naosuke, 13, 86–90; tea philosophy, Keishōin, 80
86–90, 95–96 Kobayakawa Hidetoshi, 43–44
Ii Yachiyo, 92–95 Kobayakawa Takage, 43–33
Ii Yoshimaro, 93 koicha. See tea-making procedures:
Illustrated Collection of Bridal thick tea
Trousseau Items (Konrei dōgu Konrei dōgu zushū. See Illustrated Collec-
zushū), 117–118 tion of Bridal Trousseau Items
An Illustrated Encyclopedia for Women Kōshin Sosa, 28
(Onna yō kinmōzui), 99 Kyūkōsai Sosa, 148n14
Index187

literacy, women and, 37–41, 38, 90–91 Onna kyōkun shusse sugoroku. See
Sugoroku for Women’s Edification:
manuscript culture, 29–30 How to Make One’s Way in Life
Masuda, Takashi, 26 Onna rōei kyōkun-ka. See Poetry
Meiboku Sendai hagi. See The Precious Recitation for Women’s Learning
Incense and Autumn Flowers of Onna shisho geibun zue. See Four
Sendai Pictorial Books for Women
Meiji Restoration, 122–123 Onna terako chōhōki. See Primary
Miwata Masako, 142–143 School Handbook for Girls
modern girl, 142–143 Onna yō kinmōzui. See An Illustrated
Mujōhōin-dono gonikki, 42–43 Encyclopedia for Women
Murasaki Shikibu, 65 Ōoku (Great Interior), 75–76
Musume shogei shusse sugoroku. See Oribe school, 28, 53–54
Sugoroku of Success in Artistic
Accomplishments for Girls A Pocket Mirror of Female Attendants
in Noble Households (Okujochū
Nan chōhōki (Otoko chōhōki). See The sode kagami), 77–78
Gentleman’s Treasury Poetry Recitation for Women’s Learn-
New Enlarged Edition of the Brocade ing (Onna rōei kyōkun-ka), 83,
of Women’s Manners (Shinzō onna 109–110, 114
shorei ayanishiki), 106–108, The Precious Incense and Autumn
113–114 Flowers of Sendai (Meiboku
Nihon joreishiki. See Japanese Women’s Sendai hagi), 53–54, Pl. 1
Etiquette A Precious Mirror for Women’s Daily
Nishikawa Joken, 34 Use in the Home (Katei nichiyō
Nishimiya Hide, 82 fujo hōkan), 131
Primary School Handbook for Girls
Oda Nobunaga, 26, 42 (Onna terako chōhōki), 38
Ōguchi Shōō, 13, 30, 56–73. See also publishing: in the Edo period, 35–37; in
Sekishū school of tea; A Woman’s the Meiji period, 128–131
Handbook
Ogyū Sorai, 32, 77–79 ryōsai kenbo. See good wives and wise
Okakura Kakuzō, 1, 126–127 mothers
oku. See inner quarters
Oku-bōkō shusse sugoroku. See Satake Ushū, 42
Sugoroku of Success as an Schoolgirls’ World (Jogaku sekai),
Attendant in Service in the Inner 131–132
Quarters Sekiguchi Toemon, 76–78
Okujochū sode kagami. See A Pocket Sekishū school of tea, 30–31, 44, 57.
Mirror of Female Attendants in See also Ii Naosuke; Oguchi Shōō;
Noble Households A Woman’s Handbook
Omotesenke school, 3, 28, 44–45, self-improvement (shūyō), 134–135
148n14 Sen no Rikyū, 1, 12, 26, 68
Onishi Kansai, 57 Sen Soon, 8, 59
Onna chōhōki. See Women’s Treasury Sen Sōshitsu XV, 4
Onna kuku no koe. See Women’s Sensō Sōshitsu, 28
Multiplication Voices Sen Sōtan, 27–28, 30, 42
188Index

Shibata Kyūō, 84 tea ceremony, 2

Shinanomiya Tsuneko, 42–43 teachers, women as, 39, 90, 136–139,
Shinzō onna shorei ayanishiki. See New 158n81
Enlarged Edition of the Brocade of tea culture: and the body, 15, 33–34,
Women’s Manners 84, 107–108, 114–121; and
Shūgyoku hyakunin isshu ogura shiori. etiquette, 15, 64–65; participation
See Bookmark of One Hundred in, 7–12, 19–20, 69–72, 112–114,
Beautiful Poems by One Hundred 135–136; popularization of,
Poets 11–12, 14, 19–20, 31–37, 54–55,
Sōjinboku. See Grass, Person, Tree 106–114, 119–121; purpose of
status: gender and, 14, 19, 79–80, study, 1–2, 34–35, 54, 57, 67–69,
118–121; heightening of, 14, 72–73, 98, 108–119, 109, 130–
33–36, 115–116, 118–119; tea 131, 134–136, 140–143; social
culture and, 14, 19, 34–36, 61, networks and, 1, 44–48, 91–92,
67, 85, 88–89; and wealth, 95–96
32–34 tea gatherings (chakai), 28; female
status system (mibunsei), 17–19, 123; hosts, 92, 95–96; guests, 9–10, 45,
blurring of, 14, 18–19, 33, 47, 88–89; records of (chakaiki), 7–8,
78–79, 96–97 27; as sites for display of capital,
Sugiki Fusai, 13 46–47; women’s participation in,
sugoroku board games, 80–82, 84–85, 7–8, 41–48, 89–96
132–133, Pl. 2–3 tea-making procedures (temae), 2, 28;
Sugoroku for Women’s Edification: knowledge of, 9–10, 41, 50, 54,
How to Make One’s Way in Life 103–104, 107–114; ryūrei, 126;
(Onna kyōkun shusse sugoroku), shin no daisu, 50–53; thick tea
81 (koicha), 2, 10, 114; thin tea
Sugoroku of Success in Artistic (usucha), 2, 10; women and,
Accomplishments for Girls 62–64, 108–119, 109, 111, 117
(Musume shogei shusse sugoroku), tea practitioner, definition of, 8–10, 41
84–85, Pl. 3 tea schools: differences among, 9,
Sugoroku of Success as an Attendant in 27–28; enrollment in, 7
Service in the Inner Quarters tea utensils, 100, 104–106; arrange-
(Oku-bōkō shusse sugoroku), 84, ment of (toriawase), 27; in bridal
Pl. 2 trousseaus, 58–59, 94; display of
Sugoroku of the Shogun’s Inner (haiken), 27; utensil stands (daisu),
Quarters (Matsu toku aoi nigi 58–59, 63–64, 63, 99–100, 100,
ōoku sugoroku), 132–133 104–106, 106
sumptuary regulations, 33 temae. See tea-making procedures
temae as saho, 115, 120
Tadano Makuzu, 80, 113 Tenpō reforms, 39–40
Tagami Kikusha, 43 Tōfukumon’in Masako, 102, 105
Takarazuka theatre, 143 Toji no tamoto. See A Woman’s
Takeno Jōō, 26–27, 67–68 Handbook
Tale of Genji, 10, 68–69, 102, 119 Tokugawa Chiyohime, 59
Tales of Ise, 61, 68, 102, 119 Tokugawa Iesada, 75–76
Tamura Kajiko, 81–82 Tokugawa Ieyasu, 26
Tankōsha, 4, 12 Tokugawa Nariaki, 82, 112–113
Index189

Tokugawa Yoshiko, 82 60–61; circulation of, 60–61,

toriawase. See tea utensils: arrangement 88–91; Ii Naosuke and, 88–90;
of motivation for writing, 57–60. See
Toyotomi Hideoyoshi, 26, 34, 42–43 also Oguchi Shōō
Transmitted Secrets of the Way of Tea Woman’s Treasury (Johō), 129–130
(Chadō hiden), 29–30 Women’s Education Magazine (Jogaku
Truthful Conversations, Contrary to zasshi), 132
Public Opinions (Gyakuryū Women’s Kingdom (Joshi no ōkoku),
gendan), 57–58 130–131
Tsurezuregusa. See Essays in Idleness Women’s Multiplication Voices (Onna
kuku no koe), 110–111, 114
Ukiyoburo. See Floating World Women’s Treasury (Onna chōhōki), 69
Bathhouse World’s fairs, 126
Urasenke school of tea, 3–4, 9, 12–13,
17, 27–28, 125–126, 148n14 Yabunouchi school, 7, 28
usucha. See tea-making procedures: Yanagisawa Nobutoki, 82
thin tea Yari no Gonza Kasane Katabira. See
Gonza the Lancer
Wabi-cha, 28, 67–68 Yoshida Ito, 115–116
Wafuku saihō tehodoki. See Handy Yoshida Kanemi, 42
Manual for Sewing Japanese Yoshino Michi, 80
Clothes yūgei (arts of play), 31
wife-as-deputy, 52–53 Yūgensai Ittō, 148n14
A Woman’s Handbook (Toji no
tamoto), 30, 56–73; audience, Zen Buddhism, 70
About the Author

Rebecca Corbett is the Japanese studies librarian at the

University of Southern California. She earned a PhD in Japa-
nese studies at the University of Sydney and was a Center for
East Asian Studies postdoctoral fellow at Stanford University.
She has taught Japanese history and Asian studies at the
­University of California, Santa Cruz, and the University of
Western Sydney.