Before telling the story of Hamaguchi Gohei, I must say a few words
about certain laws--or, more correctly speaking, customs having all
the force of laws--by which many village communities were ruled in
pre-Meiji times. These customs were based upon the social experience of
ages; and though they differed in minor details according to province
or district, their main signification was everywhere about the same.
Some were ethical, some industrial, some religious; and all matters
were regulated by them,--even individual behavior. They preserved
peace, and they compelled mutual help and mutual kindness. Sometimes
there might be serious fighting between different villages,--little
peasant wars about questions of water supply or boundaries; but
quarreling between men of the same community could not be tolerated in
an age of vendetta, and the whole village would resent any needless
disturbance of the internal peace. To some degree this state of things
still exists in the more old-fashioned provinces: the people know
how to live without quarreling, not to say fighting. Any-where, as a
general rule, Japanese fight only to kill; and when a sober man goes so
far as to strike a blow, he virtually rejects communal protection, and
takes his life into his own hands with every probability of losing it.
The private conduct of the other sex was regulated by some remarkable
obligations entirely outside of written codes. A peasant girl, before
marriage, enjoyed far more liberty than was permitted to city girls.
She might be known to have a lover; and unless her parents objected
very strongly, no blame would be given to her: it was regarded as an
holiest union,--honest, at least, as to intention. But having once made
a choice, the girl was held bound by that choice. If it were discovered
that she met another admirer secretly, the people would strip her
naked, allowing her only a _shuro-leaf_ for apron, and drive her in
mockery through every street and alley of the village. During this
public dis-grace of their daughter, the parents of the girl dared not
show their faces abroad; they were expected to share her shame, and
they had to remain in their house, with all the shutters fastened up.
Afterward the girl was sentenced to banishment for five years. But at
the end of that period she was considered to have expiated her fault,
and she could return home with the certainty of being spared further
reproaches.
The obligation of mutual help in time of calamity or danger was
the most imperative of all communal obligations. In case of fire,
especially, everybody was required to give immediate aid to the best
of his or her ability. Even children were not exempted from this duty.
In towns and cities, of course, things were differently ordered; but
in any little country village the universal duty was very plain and
simple, and its neglect would have been considered unpardonable.
A curious fact is that this obligation of mutual help extended to
religious matters: everybody was expected to invoke the help of the
gods for the sick or the unfortunate, whenever asked to do so. For
example, the village might be ordered to make a _sendo-mairi_[1] on
behalf of some one seriously ill. On such occasions the Kumi-chō (each
Kumi-chō was responsible for the conduct of five or more families) would
run from house to house crying, "Such and such a one is very sick:
kindly hasten all to make a sendo-mairi!" Thereupon, however occupied
at the moment, every soul in the settlement was expected to hurry to
the temple,--taking care not to trip or stumble on the way, as a single
misstep during the performance of a sendo-mairi was believed to mean
misfortune for the sick....
[Footnote 1: To perform a _sendo-mairi_ means to make one thousand
visits to a temple, and to repeat one thousand invocations to the
deity. But it is considered necessary only to go from the gate or
the torii of the temple-court to the place of prayer, and hack, one
thousand times, repeating the invocation each time; and the task may
be divided among any number of persons,--ten visits by one hundred
persons, for instance, being quite as efficacious as a thousand visits
by a single person.]