THE LIFE OF THE PEASANTS AND THEIR PRIESTS
(NAGANO)
The condition of the lower orders is the true mark.--JOHNSON
The Buddhist temple in which I lived for about two months stands on
high ground in a village lying about 2,500 ft. above sea-level in the
prefecture of Nagano and does not seem to have been visited by
foreigners. It is reached by a road which is little better than a
track. No _kuruma_ are to be found in the district, but there are a
few light two-wheeled lorries. Practically all the traffic is on
horseback or on foot. There is a view of the Japanese Alps and of
Fuji.
Running through the village[195] is a river. Most of the summer it may
be crossed by stepping stones, but the width of the rocky bed gives
some notion of the volume of water which pours down after rains and on
the melting of the snow. Two or three miles up from the village a
considerable amount of water is drawn off into two channels which have
been dug, one on either side of the river, at a gentler slope than
that at which the stream flows. The rapid fall of the river is
indicated by the fact that these channels reach the village more than
100 ft. above the level at which the river itself enters it. The
channels, cut as they have been through sharply sloping banks packed
with boulders and big stones, and strengthened throughout by banking,
in order to cope as far as possible with the torrents which rage down
the hillside in winter, represent a vast amount of communal labour. By
the side of each channel the excavated earth and stones have been used
to make a path for pack horses. The water which comes down these
channels serves not only for the ordinary uses of the village but for
irrigating the rice fields and for driving the many water wheels, the
plashing and groaning of which are heard night and day.
[Illustration: THE BUDDHIST TEMPLE (WITH SHINTO SHRINE ON THE LEFT)
IN WHICH THIS CHAPTER WAS WRITTEN]
The whole area of the _oaza_ is officially recorded as 800 _chō_, but
the real area may be double, or even more than that. About 40 per
cent. is cultivated either as paddy or as dry land. The remaining 60
per cent., from which 18 _chō_ may be deducted for house land, is
under grass and wood. Half of this grass and woodland belongs to the
_oaza_ and half to private persons. The grass is mostly couch grass
and weeds. In places there is a certain amount of clover and vetch. Of
the 200 families, numbering about 1,700 people, less than a dozen are
tenants. Of the others, a third cultivate their own land and hire
some more. The remaining two-thirds cultivate their own land and hire
none. The outstanding crop beyond rice is mulberry. A considerable
amount of millet and buckwheat is also grown.
The village is obviously well off. The signs are: successful
sericulture, the large quantity of rice eaten, the number of
well-looking horses (the millet seems to be grown largely for them,
but they also receive beans and wheat boiled), the fact that no
attempt is made to collect the considerable amount of horse manure on
the roads, the cared-for appearance of the temple and shrines, the
almost complete absence of tea-houses, the ease with which new land
may be obtained and the contented look of the people.
One does not expect to find in a remote and wholly Buddhist village
many other animals than horses, and in this community the additional
live stock consists of ten goats (kept for giving milk for invalids),
two pigs and a number of poultry. A working horse over four years was
worth 150 yen. The value of land[196] is to be considered in relation
to local standards of value. It is doubtful if the priest, who seemed
to be comfortably off, is in receipt of more than 250 yen a year. The
midwife, who belongs to the oldest family and has been trained in
Tokyo, gets from 2 to 2-1/2 yen per case. As new land is always
available on the hillsides there is very little emigration to the
towns, but twenty girls are working in the factories in the big
silk-reeling centre twelve miles off. The hillside land which is owned
by the village is not sold but rented to those who want it. To make
new paddies is primarily a question of having enough capital with
which to buy the artificial manure required for the crops.
I was given to understand that no one in the village was poor enough
to need public help, but that the school fees of twelve children were
paid by the community. This is a system peculiar to Nagano, which is a
progressive prefecture vying with other prefectures to increase the
percentage of school attendance. One of the signs of the well-off
character of the village which appears when one is able to investigate
a little is that the place is a favourite haunt of beggars, who, I am
told--every calling is organised--have made it over to the less
fortunate members of their fraternity. The village has enough money to
spend to make it worth while for tradesmen from a distance to open
temporary shops every _Bon_ season and at the New Year festival. A man
in an average position may lay out 200 yen on his daughter's wedding.
A farmer who knew his fellow-villagers' position pretty closely said
he thought that the position of tenant farmers was "rather well." In
the whole village there might be seventy or eighty householders who
had some debt, but it was justifiable. In an ordinary year about 150
farmers would have something to lay by after their twelve months'
work. Perhaps fifty farmers, if the price of rice or of cocoons were
low, might be unable to save; but ordinarily they would have something
in their pockets. About half the farmers are engaged in sericulture--I
noticed cocoons offered at the shrine. The other half sell their
mulberry leaf crop to their neighbours. The village, which is perhaps
400 years old, is increasing in population by about forty every year.
The family which is said to have founded the village is still largely
represented in it.
[Illustration: FIRE ENGINE AND PRIMITIVE FIGURES]
The village has as many as six fire engines, which can be moved about
either on wheels or on runners according to the weather, and as many
look-out ladders and fire-alarm bells. The young men's association has
no fewer than half a dozen buildings, the property of the village.
Five of them are little more than sheds and seem to be used on wet
days as nurseries and playrooms for children. The sixth is the
village theatre, playing at which appears to have been abandoned for
some years. Travelling players give their shows where they will. The
theatre stands in a space encircled by large trees opposite the chief
shrine of the village. There is also here a smaller shrine (fox god)
and some tombstones.
[Illustration: YOUNG MEN'S CLUB ROOM]
Before the chief shrine are two large leaden lanterns. At the base of
these a considerable strip of metal has been torn away. This unusual
destruction by village lads caused me to make enquiry. I found that
the boys had merely enlarged a hole made by adults. The destruction
had been wrought in order to remove the inscription on the lanterns.
It was said that the local donor had meanly omitted to make the
customary gift to the shrine to cover the small expense of lighting
the lanterns on the occasion of festivals. It was the feeling of the
villagers, therefore, that he should not be allowed to blazon his name
in connection with a shabby gift.
[Illustration: MEMORIAL STONES]
There is a ceremony about half a dozen times a year at the chief
shrine, which is about a century old. The Shinto priest, who seemed to
be a genuine antiquary, was of opinion that the structure inside the
shrine might have been built two hundred years ago. In addition to
this chief shrine and the small shrine near it, there are two other
shrines in the village, one in the temple yard (god of happiness) and
the other (horse god) in an open space of its own.
[Illustration: ROOF PROTECTED AGAINST STORMS BY STONES]
But perhaps the most remarkable thing about the non-material life of
this village is the fact that it contains no fewer than 400 carved
stones of a more or less religious character. A few are Buddhist; some
are memorials to priests or teachers; several bear that representation
of a man and a woman facing one another (p. 265) which is one of the
oldest mystic emblems; the majority are devoted apparently to the
horse god. Every man who loses a horse erects a stone. There are two
persons in the village who can carve these stones at a cost of about 2
yen. Some stones which are painted red are dedicated to the fire god.
The 400 stones of which I am speaking do not include grave stones.
These are seen everywhere, many of them just by the wayside. Nearly
every family buries in its own ground. Some burial places with stones
of many forms dating back for a long period of years are extremely
impressive. At the _Bon_ season the grass on every burying ground is
carefully cut.
All the shop-keepers seem to own their own houses and all but three
have some land. There are three _saké_ shops, two of which sell other
things than _saké_, two general shops, two cake and sweet shops, two
tobacco shops, a lantern shop and a barber. There are eight
carpenters, four stonecutters, five plasterers and wall builders, five
woodcutters, two roof makers, two horse shoers, and in the winter a
blacksmith. (The cost of putting on four shoes is 60 sen.) All these
artisans own their own houses and all have land.
As to the health of the village there are two doctors who come every
other day. One was qualified at Chiba and the other at Sendai. They
make no charge for advice and the price of medicine is only 10 sen
unless the materials are expensive. I suppose they may receive
presents. They also probably have a piece of land. There is no
veterinary surgeon, but one is to be found in the village which
composes the other half of the commune.
A physician who had been born in the village and was staying for a few
days with the Buddhist priest who was my host, thought that 90 per
cent. of the villagers ate no meat whatever and that only 50 or 60 per
cent. ate fish, and then only ceremonially, that is at particular
times in the year when it is the custom in Japan to eat fish. The
villagers who did eat meat or fish did not take it oftener than twice
or thrice a month. The canned meat and canned fish in the
shops--Japanese brands--were used almost entirely for guests. The
doctor expressed the opinion of most Japanese that "people who do not
eat meat are better tempered and can endure more." I have heard
Japanese say that "foreigners are short-tempered because they eat so
much meat."
We spoke of the considerable consumption of pickles, highly salted or
fermented. For example, in the ordinary 25-sen _bento_ (lunch) box
there are three or four different kinds of pickles. The doctor said
that pickles were not only a means of taking salt and so appetisers to
help the rice down, but digestives; fermented pickles supplied
diastase which enabled the stomach to deal promptly with the large
quantities of rice swallowed.
I asked for the doctor's opinion as to the prevalence of tumours,
displacements and cancer among women who labour in the fields and have
to bring up children and do all the housework of a peasant's dwelling.
The doctor replied that he was disposed to think that cases of the
ailments I spoke of were not numerous. Cancer was certainly rare. He
knew that in Japan rickets, goitre and gout were all less common than
in the West. He expressed the opinion that childbirth was easier than
in the West. It was a delight to see the fine carriage of the women
and girls astride on the high saddles of the horses.[197] Both sexes
in the district wear over their kimonos blue cotton trousers,
something like a plumber's overall only tighter in the legs. The women
are certainly strong. One day I saw a woman carrying uphill on her
back two wooden doors about 6 ft. by 5 ft. 6 ins. An old woman I met
on the road volunteered her view that women were "stronger" than men.
She was very much concerned to know how foreigners could live without
eating rice. She said--and this is characteristically Japanese--that
she envied me being able to travel all over the world.
[Illustration: OFF TO THE UPLAND FIELDS]
The Buddhist temple is built wholly of wood and the roof is thatched.
Whenever there was an earthquake the timbers seemed to crackle rather
than creak. The temple is relatively new and seems to have been built
with materials given by the villagers and by means of a gift of 1,000
yen. The workmanship was local and a good deal of it was faulty. This
may have been due to lack of experience, but it is more likely that
the cause was limited funds. The plan and proportions of the building
are excellent and the carving is first-rate. The right of
"presentation to the living" is in the hands of the village. The
priest and his family live in a large house on one side of the temple.
On the other side is a small Shinto shrine to which the priest seems
to give such attention as is necessary. The temple is Shingon. There
is a sermon once a year only, or "when some famous man comes." The
actual temple in which the priest, who showed me a fine collection of
robes, conducts his services is between forty and fifty mats in area.
Behind it is the room in which the _ihai_ or tablets of the dead are
arranged. This part of the building is covered on the outside with
plaster in the manner of a _kura_ (godown) so as to be fire-proof. On
either side of the actual temple are rooms very much as in a spacious
private house. There are two of eighteen and fifteen mats, two of
twelve and ten mats and two small ones. There is also a wide covered
_engawa_ (verandah) in front and at the sides. A small kitchen and
what the auctioneers call the usual offices complete the building.
Right round the temple there is a nice garden which keeps the priest's
man, a picturesque, sweet-tempered, guileless old fellow, occupied
much of his time. The priest conducted a service twice a day, at 5:30
in the morning and at 7:30 in the evening. When he fell ill and had to
be carried in a litter to the nearest town for an operation, we missed
his beautiful chanting and expert sounding of the deep-toned gong of
the sanctuary. The great bell in the court-yard was struck by the
priest's boy at sundown. The priest kept the old rule against meat. He
and his wife would not eat even cake or biscuits because they feared
that there might be milk and butter in them. The couple were very kind
to us and we enjoyed a delightfully quiet life in the lofty sunny
temple rooms. I should judge that _Otera San_ (Mr. Temple) was
respected in the village. His wife was a bustling woman of such
sweetness and simplicity of nature as can only be found in a far
valley.
I have mentioned that the total incomings of the priest are probably
about 250 yen. He receives no salary but has his house free. He must
"discuss about anything wanted in the temple." I do not suppose he had
to ask anybody whether he might lodge us or not. He receives
considerable gifts of rice, perhaps to the value of 120 yen, at any
rate enough for the whole year. He has also the rent of the "glebe,"
which consists of 12 _tan_ of paddy, 2 _tan_ of dry field and 10 _tan_
of woodland. Then there are the gifts which are made to him at
funerals and for the services he conducts at the villagers' houses on
the days of the dead. One day during the _Bon_ season every household
sent a little girl or boy with a present to the priest. In return
these small visitors were given sweets. During the _Bon_ season some
very old men of the village came and worshipped at the Shinto shrine
and were entertained with _saké_ by the priest on the _engawa_ of his
temple. The amount in the collecting box in front of the little Shinto
shrine in the temple yard, largely in _rin_, would not be more than 10
or 15 sen in the year. Most of the contributions are in the form of
pinches of rice. The priest may give 10 yen a year to his man who
works about the temple and his house and accompanies him to funerals
and to the memorial services at the villagers' dwellings; but this
servitor, like his master, no doubt receives presents.
The Shinto priest is probably not so well off as the Buddhist priest.
The village makes a small payment to him twice a year. At New Year 3
yen in all may be flung in the collecting box at the shrine, but the
priest has presents made to him when he goes to see ailing folk and
when he officiates at the building of a new house. Most people when
they are ill seem to send for the Shinto priest. But he explained to
me that he does not expect a sick man to "worship only." He is
accustomed to say to the people, "Doctor first, god second," from
which I was to conclude, one who heard told me, that the priest was
"rather a civilised man." The Shinto priest had succeeded a relative
in his position. The village had found its Buddhist priest in a
neighbouring district.
The Buddhist priest told me that every year 150 or 160 men and women
made a pilgrimage to a famous shrine some few miles off. The custom
was for every house to be represented in the pilgrimage. Half a dozen
people in the year might go on personal pilgrimages and fifty or so
might visit a little shrine on a neighbouring mountain.
FOOTNOTES:
[195] The village consists of about 270 houses. It is joined
administratively to another village, about two miles off, in order to
form a _mura_ (commune). The village I am about to describe is an
_oaza_ (large hamlet), which is made up in its turn of two _aza_
(small hamlets). These aza are themselves divided into six _kumi_
(companies), which are again sub-divided, in the case of the largest,
into four.
[196] See Appendix LIV.
[197] The horses wear basket-work muzzles to prevent them nibbling the
crops. By way of compensation for these encumbrances they have head
tassels and belly cloths to keep off the flies.