The Foundations of Japan Part 33

A COUNTRY DOCTOR AND HIS NEIGHBOURS

(CHIBA)

What was yet wanting must be sought by fortuitous and unguided excursions and gleaned as industry should find or chance should offer.--JOHNSON

When I first went to Chiba, the peninsular prefecture lying across the bay from Tokyo, many carriages in the trains were heated by iron _hibachi_[203]with pieces of old carpet thrown over them. It is on the Chiba trains that the recruits of that section of the army which has to do with the operation of the railways learn their business. It is in part of Chiba--and also in a district in Tokyo prefecture--that the earliest rice is grown. Chiba also contains more poultry than any other prefecture.[204] It has the further distinction of having tried to issue truthful crop statistics.[205]

Wherever one goes in j.a.pan one is impressed by the large consumption of fish--fresh, dried, and salted. Thin slices of raw fish make one of the tasty dishes at a j.a.panese meal. The foreigner, forgetting the Western relish for oysters and clams, is repelled by this raw fish, but a liking for it seems to be quickly acquired. In Tokyo the slices of raw fish are cut from the meaty bonito (tunny), but _tai_ (bream) is also used. Bonito also provides the long narrow steaks, dried to a mahogany-like hardness, which are known as _katsubushi_. This _katsubushi_ keeps indefinitely and is grated or shaved with a kind of plane and used much as the Western cook employs Parmesan cheese.

I heard a man in Chiba combating very strongly the idea of there being a connection between leprosy and fish eating. As to leprosy, it is doubtful if the belief expressed by the Chinese name for the disease, "heavenly punishment," has disappeared. There are at least 24,000 lepers in j.a.pan, and as a well-known j.a.panese work of reference casually remarks, "the hospitals can at present accommodate only 5 per cent. of them."

I could not but compare the undulating countryside, on which so vast an amount of labour had been expended, with what it would have been under European treatment and the influence of an European climate--possibly picturesque pasture with high hedges. The congeries of rice fields was fringed, where the water supply had given out, with upland cultivation. On the low mud walls which separated the paddies beans grew except at a boundary corner, where a tea or mulberry bush served as a landmark. In looking down or up the little valleys one saw how completely the houses had been brushed aside to the foot of the low hills so that no land cultivable as paddies should be wasted. This intensely developed countryside was not however ideal land. It was often much too sandy. Not a few paddies had to depend to some extent on the water they could catch for themselves. A naturally draughty and hungry land was yielding crops by a laborious manurial improvement of its physical and chemical condition, by wonders being wrought in rural hydraulics and by unending industry in cultivation and petty engineering.

It might be supposed that beauty had gone from the countryside. Some of what the land agents call the amenities of the district had certainly disappeared. There seemed to be nowhere for the pedestrian to sit down in order to refresh himself with those rural sights and sounds which exhilarate the spirit. But this marvellously delved, methodised and trimmed countryside had a character and a stimulus of its own. It reflected the energy and persistence that had subdued it.

I saw nothing ugly. The tidied rice plots, shaped at every possible curve and angle, and eloquent of centuries of unremitting toil; the upland beyond them, worked to a skilled perfection of finish; the nesting houses which nowhere offended the eye; the big still ponds contrived by the rude forefathers of the hamlet for water storage or the succour of the rice in the hottest weather; the low hilltops green with pine because cultivation could not ascend so far, and hiding here and there a Shinto sanctuary: such a countryside was satisfying in its own way.

In Chiba, as in other prefectures, one is impressed by the way in which the exertions of many generations have resulted in the levelling of wide areas and even the complete removal of small hills. In many places one can still see low hills in process of demolition. In Tokyo itself several small hills have been carried off in recent years.

I was in Chiba several times and I remember to have noticed one winter day with what considered roughness the paddies had been dug in order to receive from frost and sun the benefits which are as good as a manuring. Some notion of the strength of the weather forces at work may be gathered from the fact that, though I was walking without an overcoat and was glad to shade my eyes by pulling down the brim of my hat, the frost of the two previous nights had produced ice on the paddies an inch thick.

Sometimes at the irrigation reservoirs one may see notice boards announcing that these water areas are stocked with _koi_ (carp). This fish is also kept in the paddies. The carp are put in as yearlings or two-year-olds, when the paddies are flooded, and a score out of every hundred come out in the autumn--a.s.suming the happiest conditions--ten inches or so long. Carp culture flourishes in the sericulture districts, where the pupae which remain when the coc.o.o.ns are unwound are thrown to the fish; but pupae fed carp have a flavour which diminishes their value. Indeed paddy-field fish, which on the whole must have a rather troubled existence, do not bring the price of river carp. Other fish than carp, eels for instance, are also kept in paddies.[206]

I visited a vigorous personality who was at once a landowner and rural oculist, as his father and grandfather had been before him. He had graduated at Tokyo and had kept himself abreast of German specialist literature. There was accommodation for about a hundred patients in the buildings attached to his house. He believed in the efficacy in eye cases of "the air of the rice fields," not to speak of the shrine which overlooks the patients' quarters. As the number of blind people in j.a.pan is appalling,[207] it was interesting to hear the opinion that the chief causes were gonorrha, inadequate attention at birth, insufficient nourishment in childhood and nervous disease--all more or less preventible. Nearly a quarter of my host's patients had had their eyes wounded by rice-stem points while stooping in the paddies. As the people are hurt in the busy season they often put off coming for help until it is too late.

The landowner-oculist's premises were lighted by natural gas from a depth of 900 ft. According to a fellow-guest, who happened to be an expert in this matter, natural gas is to be had all over j.a.pan.[208]

The room in which I slept belonged to a part of the house which was of great age, but by my _futon_ there was laid an electric torch.

A pleasant thing during my visit was the presence of a dozen intelligent, kindly students who early in the evening came and knelt in a semicircle round us, "in order to profit by our talk." One of them, a son of the house, an athlete (and now, after travelling in Europe, his father's successor), did all sorts of services for me during my stay, in the simple-hearted fashion that shows such an attractive side of the j.a.panese character. One question asked by the students was, "For what reasons does _Sensei_ believe that the influence of women in public life would be good?" Another enquiry was, "Which are the best London and Paris papers?" These lads could hardly hope to get through the university before they were twenty-five or twenty-six. Yet, compared with our undergraduates, they had very little time for general reading, discussions and outdoor sports. I remember a man of some experience in the educational world saying to me, "Our students do not read enough apart from their studies; it is their misfortune." They have not only the burden of having to learn nearly several thousand ideographs,[209] three scripts and j.a.panese and Chinese p.r.o.nunciation. They have to acquire Western languages, which, owing to their absolute dissimilarity from Oriental tongues--for example, the word for "I" is _watakushi_--must be learnt entirely from memory. It is not that the j.a.panese student does not begin early as well as leave off late. A professor once said to me, "For some little time after I first went to school I was still fed from the bosom of my mother." In some ways it is no doubt a source of strength for j.a.pan that her men can spend from their earliest years to the age of twenty-six on the acquirement of knowledge and self-discipline--the privileges of the student cla.s.s and the generosity of their families and friends and the public at large are remarkable--but the disadvantages are plain. No sight seems stranger to a new arrival in j.a.pan than that of so many men in their middle or late twenties still wearing the conspicuous kimono and German bandsman cap of the student.

To return to our host, he told us that tenants were "getting clever."

They were paying their rent in "worse and worse qualities of rice."

The landlords "encouraged" their tenants with gifts of tools, clothes or sake in order that they might bring them the best rice, but the tenants evidently thought it paid better to forgo these benefits and market their best rice. This raises the question whether rent ought nowadays to be paid in kind. Rural opinion as a whole is in favour of continuing in the old way, but there is a clear-headed if small section of rural reformers which is for rent being paid in cash.

One thing I found in my notes of my talk with the landowner-oculist I hesitated to transcribe without confirmation. Speaking of the physique of the people, he had said that few farmers could carry the weights their fathers and grandfathers could move about. But later on a high agricultural authority mentioned to me that it had been found necessary to reduce the weight of a bale of rice from 19 to 18 _kwamme_ and then to 15--1 _kwamme_ is 8.26 lbs.

In the _oaza_ in which I was staying there were eighty families.

Seventy were tenants. Under a savings arrangement initiated by my host, the hamlet, including its five peasant proprietors, was saving 120 yen a month. On the other hand, more than half the tenants were in debt "in connection with family excesses," such as weddings, births and burials. But there might be unknown savings. I should state that the villagers seemed contented enough.

For some reason or other I was particularly struck by the st.u.r.diness of the small girls. This was interesting because Chiba had for long an evil reputation for infanticide, and under a system of infanticide in the Far East it would be supposed--I have heard this view stoutly questioned--that more girls die than boys. The landowner-oculist was of opinion that in stating the causes of the low economic condition of his tenants the abating of infanticide must be put first. People no longer restricted themselves to three of a family. The average area available locally was only 6 _tan_ of paddy and 1.2 _tan_ of dry land.

In a one-crop district in which there was work for only a part of the year this area was obviously insufficient and there was not enough dry land for mulberries. Then taxation was now 2-1/2 yen per bale of rice (_hyo_). A third of the rice went in rent.

I tried to find out what the _oaza_ might be spending on religion. The Shinto priest seemed to get 5 sen a month per family, which as there are eighty families would be 48 yen yearly. The Buddhist priest had land attached to his temple and money was given him at burials and at the _Bon_ season. The _oaza_ might spend 100 yen a year to send five pilgrims as far away as Yamagata, on the other side of j.a.pan. The priests did not seem to count for much. "Their only concern with the public," I was informed, "is to be succoured by it. They are living very painfully. The Buddhist priests have to send money to their sect at Kyoto." In one of my strolls I pa.s.sed the Shinto priest carrying a rice basket and looking, as my companion said, "just like any other man." At a shrine I saw a number of bowls hung up. A hole cut in the bottom of each seemed a pathetic symbol of need, material or spiritual.

The keeper of the teahouse in the _oaza_ had been given a small sum by our host to take himself off, but in the village of which the _oaza_ formed a part there were two teahouses, where ten times as much was spent as was laid out on religion. No one had ever heard of a case of illegitimacy in the _oaza_ but there had been in the twelve months three cases which pointed to abortion. It was five years since there had been an arrest. The young men's a.s.sociation helped twice a year families whose boys had been conscripted.

According to what I was told in various quarters, some landowners in Chiba did a certain amount of public work but most devoted themselves to indoor trivialities. The fact that two banks had recently broken at the next town, one for a quarter of a million yen, and that a landowner had lost a total of 30,000 yen in these smashes, seemed to show that there was a certain amount of money somewhere in the district. No one appeared to "waste time on politics." In ten years "there had been one or two politicians," but "one member of Parliament set a wholesome example by losing a great deal of money in politics."

As to local politics, election to the prefectural a.s.sembly seemed to cost about 500 yen. Membership of the village a.s.sembly might mean "a cup of _sake_ apiece to the electors."

I was a.s.sured that this hamlet was above the economic level of the county. The belief was expressed that it could maintain that position for three or four years. "I do not feel so much anxiety about the present condition of the people," my host said; "they are pa.s.sive enough: but as to the future it is a difficult and almost insoluble question."

"The condition of our rural life is the most difficult question in j.a.pan," said a fellow guest.

In one of the farmers' houses a girl, with the a.s.sistance of a younger brother, was weaving rough matting for baling up artificial manure. Near them two Minorcas were laying in open boxes. In this family there were seven children, "three or four of whom can work."

The hired land was 8 _tan_ of paddy and 2-1/2 of dry. There was nothing to the good at the end of the year. Indeed rice had had to be borrowed from the landlord. The family was therefore working merely to keep itself alive. But it looked cheerful enough. Looking cheerful is, however, a j.a.panese habit. The conditions of life here were what many Westerners would consider intolerable. But it was not Westerners but Orientals who were concerned, and what one had to try to guess was how far the conditions were satisfactory to Eastern imaginations and requirements. The people at every house I visited--as it happened to be a holiday the mending of clothing and implements seemed to be in order--were plainly getting enjoyment from the warm sunshine.

Undoubtedly the long spells of sunshine in the comparatively idle period of the year make hard conditions of life more endurable.

In a very small house which was little more than a shelter, the father and mother of a tenant were living. It is not uncommon for old peasants to build a dwelling for themselves when they get nearly past work, or sometimes after the eldest son marries.

I found a 1-_cho_ peasant proprietor playing _go_ and rather the worse for sake, though it was early in the morning. A 3-_cho_ proprietor was living in a good-sized house which had a courtyard and an imposing gateway.

On the thatch of one house I noticed a small straw horse perhaps two feet long. On July 7 such a horse is taken by young people to the hills, where a bale of gra.s.s is tied on its back. On the reappearance of the figure at the house, dishes of the ceremonial red rice and of the ordinary food of the family are set before it. "The offering of other than horse food indicates," it was explained, "that the desire is to keep the straw animal as a little deity." Finally the horse is flung on the roof.

I went some distance to visit an _oaza_ of twenty families. It was described to me as "well off and peaceful." Alas, one peasant proprietor had gone to Tokyo, where he had made money, and on his return had built his second son a house with Tokyo labour instead of with the labour of his neighbours. So the _oaza_ was "excited with bitter inward animosity." Like our own hamlets, these _oaza_ in the sunshine, seemingly so peaceful, whisper nothing to townsfolk of their bickerings and feuds.

One of the thatched mud houses I came to was at once a primitive co-operative sale-and-purchase society and the clubhouse of the old people of the _oaza_. The rent the old folk received from the society was enough to maintain the building. The oldsters gather from time to time in order to eat, drink and make merry with gossip and dancing.

Dancing is a possibility for old people because it is swaying, sliding and att.i.tudinising, with an occasional stamp of the foot, rather than hopping and whirling. One of the best amateur dances I have seen was performed by a grandsire. Such clubhouses, places for the comfort of the ageing and aged, are found in many villages. Young people are not admitted. The subscription to this particular clubhouse was 2 yen and 3 _sho_ of sake on joining and 2 yen a year.

As we went on our way there was pointed out to me a house the owner of which had sold half a _tan_ of land for 120 yen and was drinking steadily. He had tried to make money by opening an open-air village theatre which owing to rain had been a failure.

I visited an _oaza_ where all the land belonged to the man I called upon. He a.s.sured me that most of his tenants "made ends meet." The remainder had a deficiency at the end of the year due to "lack of will to save" and to their "lack of capital which caused them to pay interest to manure dealers." A co-operative society had just been started.

In looking at a map of the village to which some of these _oaza_ belonged I noticed many holdings tinted a special colour. These were called "jump land." They consisted of land subdued from the wild by strangers. The properties were regarded as belonging to the _oaza_ in which their cultivators lived.

I walked through a bit of woodland which had formerly been held in common and had been divided up, amid felicitations no doubt, at the rate of half a tan each to every family. But the well-to-do people soon got hold of their poorer neighbours' portions.

In a roughish tract I came on burial grounds. One portion was set apart for the eight families which recognised the chief landlord as their head. The graves of lowlier folk seemed to occur anywhere. Each grave was covered by a pyramidal mound of sandy earth with a piece of twig stuck in it. Sometimes a tree had been planted and had grown. A child's grave had some tiny bowls of food and a clay doll before a little headstone. By way of shelter for these offerings there was hung on the headstone a peasant's wide straw hat. A large beehive-shaped bamboo basket over another grave was a reminder of the time when a grave needed such protection in order to save the body from wild animals.

I saw at a distance in the midst of paddies two tree-covered mounds, a large one and a small one. They looked like the grave mounds I had seen in China, but it was suggested that they were probably on an old frontier line and marked spots at which ceremonies for scaring off disease were performed.

In one place I found the people planting plum trees in order to meet their communal taxation. It was reckoned that the yield of one tree when it came into full bearing would defray the taxes of a moderate-sized family.

An open s.p.a.ce in a wood was pointed out to me as the spot on which dead horses were formerly thrown to the dogs and birds. Nowadays notice was given to the Eta that a dead horse was to be cast away, and they came and, after skinning the animal, buried the body. Farther off, on the high road, I saw an 8 ft. high monument to a local steed that had died in Manchuria.

One of my further visits to Chiba was in the spring. The paddies, which had been fallow since November, were under water; but much of the stubble had been turned over with the long-bladed mattock. The seed beds from which the rice is transplanted to the paddies were a vivid green. On the high ground I saw good clean crops of barley and wheat, beans and peas, on soil of very moderate quality.

The name of Funabashi at a station reminded me of a j.a.panese friend having told me that it was "famous for a shrine and a very immoral place." But I afterwards heard that the keeper of that shrine, "acting from conscientious motives, gave up his lucrative post and died a poor man." It is said of one of the most sacred places in j.a.pan that it is also the "most immoral." Kyoto which contains nine hundred shrines is also supposed to harbour several thousand women of bad character.

I pa.s.sed a place where 25,000 Russian prisoners had been detained.

There was an old peasant there who told his son that he could not understand why so many j.a.panese went abroad at such great cost to see the different peoples of the world. If they would only stay at home, he said, they would see them all in turn, for first there had been the Chinese prisoners, then the Russians and now there were the Germans.

In the uplands it was peaceful and restful to walk through the shady lanes between the tree-studded homesteads or along the road pa.s.sing between plots of mulberry, tea, vegetables or grain, cultivated with the care given to plants in a garden. In the herbage by the roadside, but not among the crops I need hardly say, I noticed dandelions, sow thistles, Scots thistles, plantains and some other familiar weeds.

In the paddies some men wore only a narrow band of red cotton between their legs joined to a waist string, which, though convenient wear in paddies, was comically conspicuous. I recall a friend's story of a little foreign girl of seven who stayed with her mother in a j.a.panese hamlet and struck up a friendship with a kindly old peasant. One hot summer day the child came home carrying all her scanty garments over her arm, and covered with mud to the waist. In answer to her mother's enquiries the child said, "Well, mother, Ito San has all his clothes off, and I could not go into the paddy to help him with mine on."

I visited an elementary school which was little more than a shed. The roofing was of bark and the paper-covered window shutters were of the roughest. It said much for the stamina of the children that they could sit there in bleak weather. An attempt had been made to shut off the cla.s.ses from one another by pieces of thin cotton sheeting fastened to a string. But such essential furniture, from a hygienic point of view, as benches with backs had been provided, for it is considered by the national educational authorities that kneeling in the j.a.panese manner is inimical to physical development. I noticed, also, that when the children sang they had been taught to place their hands on their hips in order that their chests might benefit from the vocal exercise. The earnestness and kindliness of the men and women teachers were evident.

All the teachers came to school bare-foot on _geta_.[210]