The foundations of Japan

by J. W. Robertson Scott

On taking the road again I was told that the local landlords had held a meeting in view of the losses of tenants through wind. Most had agreed to forgo rents and to help with artificial manure for next year. I found taro being grown in paddies or under irrigation. Not only the tubers of the taro but its finer stalks are eaten. I saw gourds cut into long lengths narrower than apple rings and put out to dry. I also noticed orange trees a century old which were still producing fruit. Boys were driving iron hoops—the native hoop was of bamboo—and one of the hoop drivers wore a piece of red cloth stitched on his shoulder, which indicated that he was head of his class. One missed a dog bounding and barking after the hoop drivers. Sometimes at the doors of houses I noticed dogs of the lap-dog type which one sees in paintings or of the wolf type to which the native outdoor dog belongs. The cats were as ugly as the dogs and no plumper or happier looking. When I patted a dog or stroked a cat the act attracted attention.

We saw a good deal of hinoki (ground cypress), the wood of which is still used at Shinto festivals for making fire by friction.

We were able to visit an Eta village or rather oaza. Whether the Eta are largely the descendants of captives of an early era or of a low class of people who on the introduction of Buddhism in the seventh or eighth century were ostracised because of their association with animal eating, animal slaughter, working in leather and grave digging is in dispute. No doubt they have absorbed a certain number of fugitives from higher grades of the population, broken samurai, ne'er-do-weels and criminals. The situation as the foreigner discovers it is that all over Japan there are hamlets of what are called "special tribes." In 1876, when distinctions between them and Japanese generally were officially abolished, the total number was given as about a million. Most of these peculiar people, perhaps three-quarters of them, are known as Eta. But whether they are known as Eta or Shuku, or by some other name, ordinary Japanese do not care to eat with them, marry with them or even talk with them. In the past Eta have often been prosperous, and many are prosperous to-day, but a large number are still restricted to earning a living as butchers and skin and leather workers, and grave diggers. The members of these "special tribes," believing themselves to be despised without cause, usually make some effort to hide the fact that they are Eta.

Shuku seem to be living principally in hamlets of a score or so of houses in the vicinity of Osaka, Kyoto and Nara, and are often travelling players, or, like some Eta, skilled in making tools and musical instruments. There seems to be a half Shuku or intermarried class. Many prostitutes are said to be Shuku or Eta. I was told that most of the girls in the prostitutes' houses of Shimane prefecture are from "special tribes," and that they are "preferred by the proprietors" because, as I was gravely informed, "they do not weary of their profession and are therefore more acceptable to customers." As prostitutes are frequently married by their patrons, it is believed that not a few women from "special villages" are taken to wife without their origin being known. Unwitting marriage with an Eta woman has long been a common motif in fiction and folk story. Many members of the "special tribes" go to Hokkaido and there pass into the general body of the population. The folk of this class are "despised," I was told by a responsible Japanese, "not so much for themselves as for what their fathers and grandfathers did." The country people undoubtedly treat them more harshly than the townspeople, but a man of the "special tribes" is often employed as a watchman of fields or forests. I was warned that it was judicious to avoid using the word Eta or Shuku in the presence of common people lest one might be addressing by chance a member of the "special tribes."

Except that the houses of the village we were visiting looked possibly a trifle more primitive than those of the non-Eta population outside the oaza, I did not discern anything different from what I saw elsewhere. The people were of the Shinshu sect; there was no Shinto shrine. At the public room I noticed the gymnastic apparatus of the "fire defenders." The hamlet was traditionally 300 years old and one family was still recognised as chief. According to the constable, who eagerly imparted the information, the crops were larger than those of neighbouring villages "because the people, male and female, are always diligent."

The man who was brought forward as the representative of the village was an ex-soldier and seemed a quiet, able and self-respecting but sad human being. His house and holding were in excellent order. None of his neighbours smiled on us. Some I thought went indoors needlessly; a few came as near to glowering as can be expected in Japan. I got the impression that the people were cared for but were conscious of being "hauden doon" or kept at arm's length.[^[179]]

Our next stop was for a rest in a fine garden, the effect of which was spoilt in one place by a distressing life-size statue of the owner's father. When we took to our kuruma again we passed through a village at the approaches to which thick straw ropes such as are seen at shrines had been stretched across the road. Charms were attached. The object was to keep off an epidemic.

The indigo leaves drying on mats in front of some of the cottages were a delight to the eye. There were also mats covered with cotton which looked like fluffy cocoons. On the telegraph wires, the poles of which all over Japan take short cuts through the paddies, swallows clustered as in England, but it is to the South Seas, not to Africa, that the Japanese swallow migrates. When the telegraph was a newer feature of the Japanese landscape than it is now swallows on the wires were a favourite subject for young painters.

We crossed a dry river bed of considerable width at a place where the current had made an excavation in the gravel, rocks and earth several yards deep. It was an impressive illustration of the power of a heavy flood.

I found in one mountainous county that only about a sixth of the area was under cultivation. A responsible man said: "This is a county of the biggest landlords and the smallest tenants. Too many landowners are thinking of themselves, so there arise sometimes severe conflicts. Some 4,000 tenants have gone to Hokkaido." The conversation got round to the young men's societies and I was told a story of how an Eta village threatened by floods had been saved by the young men of the neighbouring non-Eta village working all night at a weakened embankment. Some days later an Eta deputation came to the village and "with tears in their eyes gave thanks for what had been done." The comment of a Japanese friend was: "In the present state of Japan hypocrisy may be valuable. The boys and the Eta were at least exercising themselves in virtue."