CHAPTER XXX

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.

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 2½ 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.