Читать книгу Everyday Life in Traditional Japan - Charles Dunn - Страница 11

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The Samurai

The population of Japan is estimated at having been slightly under 30 million for most of the Tokugawa period, remaining remarkably static for this length of time. There were probably fewer than two million who were samurai, the highest of the four classes into which the people of Japan were divided. The word samurai implies “servant” and is strictly applicable only to retainers, but the custom arose of applying it to the whole warrior class, who were in any case all liegemen, direct or indirect, of the Shogun himself, the apex of the pyramid.

Membership of the class was hereditary, and included many whose ancestors in earlier times had been farmers, ready to take up arms to fight in local armies. Others had belonged to clans with great estates in the regions distant from the capital, themselves descendants or supplanters of still earlier landholders under the Emperor when he really ruled Japan. Some samurai families had originally been closely connected with the Emperor, who, embarrassed by the financial burden of too numerous descendants, had reduced several groups of his dependants to the rank of ordinary noble in the tenth century, giving them land and so freeing himself from further responsibility. One of these groups had been the Minamoto clan, which increased its land-holdings by predatory means, and which rose to become rulers of Japan in the thirteenth century: the Tokugawa family, which had long held a small domain in Mikawa province, east of Nagoya, before moving to Edo, itself claimed descent from these earlier Shoguns.

During the early sixteenth century there had been considerable mobility between the classes, especially between farmers and warriors, but Hideyoshi endeavored to stabilize society, and decreed in 1586 that samurai could not become townsmen, and that a farmer could not leave his land. The rigidity of the class system so characteristic of the ensuing centuries really dates from this time, and in the next year farmers had to give up their weapons, in an operation known as “Hideyoshi’s sword-hunt”; henceforward samurai alone had the right to carry a sword. A sword in this context is a long sword; a shorter sword was also worn, and the first recognition point for distinguishing a samurai, either in illustrations, or probably even at the time in the flesh, is the sight of two sword-handles protruding from the girdle on the left-hand side, where the right hand could come across and draw either (10). Townsfolk were allowed to carry a short sword for protection. Farmers had to content themselves with their agricultural implements, as peasants have always had to the world over. Occasionally individuals or groups of non-samurai performed a special service and were granted the privilege of wearing “the large and the small” as the swords were called.

(10) (a). Samurai in street. A samurai, wearing his two swords, walks by a seaweed shop, followed by an attendant, who carries a package wrapped in the traditional silk cloth (furoshiki). The men on the left are slicing up dried seaweed, which was eaten with rice. Over the shop is its noren (see p. 103) with the shop sign (repeated on the drawers at the back and on the boxes in the street), and the name of the shop, Nakajima-ya. The chief clerk is writing up the ledger.

The warrior class included everyone with the right to wear two swords from the Shogun down, through the great lords in their domains and senior officials in Edo, to minor officials and foot soldiers. They all received incomes according to their station, and the machinery for distributing these incomes was a fundamental part of the organization of society. Income was calculated not in money but in rice. The two main groups involved were the warriors themselves, as recipients, and the farmers, as suppliers.

(10) (b). Samurai at the poulterer’s. A samurai is leaving the shop, and is replacing in his girdle his large sword, removed to allow him to sit comfortably while conducting his business with the shopkeeper, who is obsequiously seeing him off the premises. Outside the shop, the samurai’s servant, his kimono tucked into the back of his girdle, waits patiently for his master.

Land was measured not so much by area, as by the estimate of the amount of rice it would produce in a year. The unit of rice used for this purpose was the koku, which is equivalent to about five bushels, and would, in fact, feed one person for a year; at the beginning of the seventeenth century surveys indicated that the annual national production was about 25 million koku. This was distributed by the Shogun, after keeping about one-fifth of it for his own use, among the lords of the domains—that is to say, land producing this amount was allocated either to the directly held territories, or to the lords, a small amount being granted to the Emperor. The highest allocation was to the “outside” lords of Kaga, who had their castle in Kanazawa near the north coast: they received 1,300,000 koku. Shimazu, of Satsuma (in Kyūshū), had 730,000, and altogether there were, at the beginning of the period, some 270 lords with 10,000 koku or over. These lords were the daimyō, the great landholders; and just as the Shogun kept some for himself and distributed the rest, so did the daimyō, keeping some of his income for himself and his family and allotting the rest to his vassals in sub-fiefs. The superior vassals had areas of land placed under their control; inferior ones received a stipend measured in koku, without land. Lower-ranking persons received rice or rice equivalent incomes.

Incomes expressed in koku referred to the productivity of the land, and the lord had to see to it that he obtained the rice from the farmers, or, to be more precise, that his officials got it from the village headman, who got it from the farmer. The farmer was allowed to keep a proportion of the crop, sometimes six-tenths, but often less; in practice, the recipient took what he was entitled to, leaving the farmer the rest, which would depend upon his harvest. Sometimes the lord, especially if he had only a small allocation, ran out of resources before the harvest was in, and had to squeeze his farmers to pay early, leaving them to make what shifts they could to meet his demands.

It has to be realized that incomes were not normally linked to the job that the recipient was doing, except in the sense that the income fitted a man for his position rather than the other way round. To serve as an official to a lord was part of feudal obligation, and a vassal should not expect to be paid especially for something that it was his duty to do. In the eighteenth century there was a slight modification to this, which allowed the Shogun to give a temporary allowance to a person whose rate of income did not in fact qualify him for a certain position, but whose ability fitted him for it.

The sort of residence that a samurai occupied depended upon his status as measured by his income. The Shogun had his castle in Edo (where the Emperor now resides), and most daimyō also had a castle (I), round which grew a town. Castles came into being in Japan much as they did in Europe, as strongholds for barons fearing attack from their neighbors. The majority still in existence in Japan date from the sixteenth century, for there was little building under the Tokuga was except in Edo, since fortification was strictly controlled, the Shogun being anxious above all that no lord should become strong enough to challenge his power. Until the sixteenth century warriors had tended to live on their farms, and only go to the castle when summoned, but when the warrior and farmer classes were separated, the former went to live in the towns that had begun to form round the castles to accommodate the people concerned with its supply of goods and services. When the samurai moved in, the jōkamachi, “under-castle towns” increased in size and importance, becoming the most usual form of urban development in Japan. All activities in such towns were directed towards the castle and were controlled by it, and the atmosphere in it was quite different from that in Kyoto, where the Imperial court was dominant, and even more so from that of Osaka, a fundamentally mercantile town, in which, it is true, Hideyoshi had built a castle, later the headquarters of the Shogun’s Deputy, but which nevertheless managed to retain considerable independence.

The castle usually included the town in its outer defenses of ditches. In Edo, for example, existing water-courses were adapted to form a series of more or less rectangular shapes, the innermost containing the castle, the intermediate ones having officials’ residences, and the outermost stretching down to the Bay and having merchants and craftsmen living within them. The purpose of the outer ditches was not much more than to slow down an attacker by making him use existing bridges and thus hamper his freedom of movement.

(11) Moat of Osaka Castle. This view clearly shows the profile of the outer wall. The Castle was built by Hideyoshi.

The castle itself was normally raised on a mound, artificial or otherwise, which was revetted with stonework, the individual pieces being often of very large size and set deep into the soil. These revetments have a characteristic curved contour, a combination of slope at the bottom to maintain stability and near-verticality at the top to deter attackers from climbing up (11). Many castles took advantage of natural features to acquire elevation, and an extreme case of this is Gifu, which occupies a steep hill some hundreds of feet above its town, the only access in the past being a steep road up the precipitous face.

The revetments were topped by walls of plastered timberwork, with tiled roofs. Access through gateways was always arranged to have attackers under fire as they approached. There was a keep, with several floors, once again of timber construction with thick plaster-filling and heavily barred windows (12). There were slits and embrasures for arrow and musket-fire, and often downward facing slits under windows through which missiles could be dropped on attackers. The keep was crowned with graceful tiled roofs, often with gilded ornaments. The living quarters were not in the keep, but in separate dwellings within the castle complex.

When the castles were built, they were expected to have to withstand swords and spears, arrows and battering rams and the use of fire, but certainly no heavy artillery. The firearms brought in by the Portuguese and others were limited to muskets, pistols, and some small cannon. A certain amount of iron reinforcement to gates, and rounded embrasures for muskets (as distinct from the slits required by archers), were all the modifications that were needed. The Shogun naturally did his best to ensure that no advanced weapons got into the hands of his potential foes. Moreover, from being a stronghold against neighboring lords, these castles became rather a defense against possible attack by rebellious townsmen or revolting peasants, who were not likely to be well disciplined or to be equipped with other than simple weapons. Thus not much more was required than stout gates and steep approaches.

(12) Himeji Castle, known as the “White Heron,” is a great complex of walls and buildings, and illustrates the defensive features mentioned in the text.

One of the most magnificent of these castles is that built by Ieyasu at Kyoto in the first decade of the seventeenth century. More of a palace than a castle, it was used as the Shogun’s lodging when he came to Kyoto; it was in a grandiose style, partly to rival the Emperor’s palace, and partly to compete with the glories of Hideyoshi’s castle (which Ieyasu later had destroyed) outside Kyoto. Nijō Castle is still surrounded by a wall and moat, and the mound on which the keep was built remains, although the keep itself is gone. The palace is basically a series of rooms, the floors covered by tatami—thick straw mats finished with woven grass, the standard flooring in houses of the well to do. The rooms are divided from the corridors which run outside them by sliding screens, while the corridors are separated from the outside world by screens of wooden lattice covered with paper to let in light, with further heavy wooden screens, like shutters, that would be moved over at night and in bad weather. The rooms nearest the entrance were for visiting lords, and the more worthy of trust a person was, the nearer he could approach the audience chamber (13) and the private apartments. Near the Shogun’s position in the audience chamber were some compartments which concealed soldiers posted there ready to dash out in an emergency, while the silent approach of a would-be assassin could be detected because of the special construction of the plank floor of the “nightingale” corridor which makes it “sing” as one walks along it.

(13) Audience chamber in Nijo Castle, with wax figures of the Shogun and his lords, in court dress. To the Shogun’s left is his sword-bearer, behind whom is the room in which lurked the bodyguard.

The koku-rating of samurai was used in all sorts of circumstances. Below daimyō with their minimum of 10,000 koku, it determined the area of the plot on which a samurai was allowed to build. For example, 8,000 koku entitled him to about two acres, 2,000 koku to about one acre, while the lowest income of five bales of rice gave the right to about 280 square yards. In fact, the lowest grades lived more or less communally, in “long houses,” divided into apartments with some degree of shared accommodation. A typical arrangement was to have a gateway with a row of rooms as its upper story. Lastly, there were some samurai who had no official income at all and no right to a residence; these were the masterless men, the rōnin, who had either abandoned their allegiance or whose master had been deprived of his post. The rōnin were some of the freest inhabitants of traditional Japan, since they maintained their samurai status without the burden of its duties, but forgoing its assured sustenance. They earned a living as best they could: some became writers, Confucian scholars, or schoolteachers; some, instructors in swordsmanship or other military arts; others traded on their ability with their weapons and hired themselves out as bodyguards and trouble-shooters for rich merchants. While they were earning, they could afford comfortable accommodation; when things went less well, they had to live at best in temples, at worst in what rough shelter they could find.

14 (a). Samurai in naga-bakama.

(b). Samurai in kami-shimo.

Rank was also reflected in clothes. For ceremonial occasions and when on duty, the samurai wore clothes as shown in figure 14b. The formal part of his attire is the kami-shimo, the combination of “upper and lower,” that is, an over-jacket (kataginu) with stiffened shoulders and trousers (hakama), more like a divided skirt; the trousers had a very low crotch, and openings at the sides, and were held in place by two sets of ties on the front and rear parts, fastening round the waist. On ordinary occasions for samurai of all ranks, and for lower-ranking ones at all times, these trousers finished at a little above ground-level, but for superior ranking warriors at special ceremonies, very long trousers were worn; these trailed on the floor and the feet were entirely enclosed within them (14a). The wearing of these nagabakama required special skill; any change of direction had to be accompanied by sharp movements of the feet to bring the trailing portion behind the wearer, otherwise there was danger of tripping; he must also grip each leg of the trousers, pulling it up at every step to give his leg room for movement. It was possible to run in them, but this required extremely good coordination between hand and leg. Obviously this was an impracticable garment, although an imposing one; its use was a status symbol, demonstrating that its wearer had the leisure to learn to manage it, but it is also said that the rulers ordered it to be worn because it would impede anyone if he tried to make a violent attack. They were not normally worn out of doors.

Beneath the kami-shimo, the ordinary kimono was worn, with a girdle behind which the straps of the shoulder garment were inserted, and underneath that a white undergarment which showed at the neck. The swords in their scabbards were held by this girdle. The costume was completed by white tabi—socks with a padded sole and a division between the big toe and the smaller ones to allow for the thong of the footwear, when that was worn. The Shogun himself, and daimyō when not in attendance upon him, did not wear kami-shimo, but had luxurious garments of the normal kimono shape. For the rare, very grandest ceremonies, the Shogun and his entourage wore Imperial court costume, with a hat indicative of rank (13).

When on official journeys, mounted samurai wore the trousers, with a three-quarter-length kimono-shaped coat (haori) instead of the shoulder-jacket; this was held together by a tie at chest-level. A flat round hat, slightly conical, for protection against sun and rain was also standard wear. The men on foot wore a sort of breeches, drawn in at the knee, with leggings. The coat was lifted up at the back by the sword, and gave a characteristic silhouette to the samurai when he was on a journey (15).

Generally speaking, colors for samurai clothes were very sober, being mainly dullish blues, grays, and browns, either plain or with small patterns or stripes. The shoulder-jacket and kimono worn beneath it normally bore the wearer’s family crest, his mon (14). Trousers were lined for winter wear, unlined for summer wear, the dates for the change being fixed at the fifth day of the fifth month and the first day of the ninth month. Off-duty dress was the kimono without jacket or trousers. A samurai going to town for pleasure would often hide his face by wearing some sort of deep hat, often a rather comical basket-like affair, in order not to be recognized, for he might well be disobeying the rules of the establishment in which he resided.

Another characteristic feature was the arrangement of the hair. The top of the head was shaved, with the hair at the back and sides gathered together into a queue, oiled, and then doubled forward over the crown, being tied where it was doubled over. The bunch of hair was trimmed off very neatly into a cleanly cut end. It was very important for the samurai not to have a hair out of place, and it was most embarrassing for him to have the tie become undone or cut in a sword-fight; it was even worse if the whole queue was cut off. If he was ill, he would leave the crown unshaven, and the hair would grow into a bushy mass, but he would not appear in public like this.

(15) Samuari on journey.

The greater proportion of the duties of a samurai were concerned with the administration of the domain to which he was attached, or, if he was part of the central organization at Edo, with the governance of Edo itself, or of the country as a whole. The duties would vary from low-grade ones like standing guard at the castle gates to being senior councilor to a daimyō. If his income was derived from an actual holding of land, he would also occupy himself with this. In addition to his ordinary duties, there would of course be a certain amount of obligatory ceremonial attendance. Since, therefore, most of the functions of the senior samurai were performed inside the castle or the government office, they might not be often seen by people of other classes, unless they were on a journey, or functioned as magistrates.

The daimyō in most cases had to make a periodical stay of one year every other year, in Edo. When they were on the road, they and their attendants formed a considerable spectacle: not that the populace stood and watched them go by, for the leaders of the procession shouted “Down! Down!” and all had to prostrate themselves until the column had passed. An incident right at the end of the Tokugawa period, in 1861, when the first breaches in the seclusion of Japan had been made, illustrates the respect that was thought due on such occasions. The daimyō of Satsuma was returning to his domain, and when he and his retinue were nearing Yokohama, where there was already a settlement of foreign merchants, four British subjects tried to ride through the procession. The samurai drew their swords, and of the intruders one died and two were injured. This action of the foreigners showed what might now be seen as a shocking ignorance of the customs of the country, but the spirit of the times is indicated by the fact that the town of Kagoshima was bombarded as a reprisal, and eventually a large indemnity was paid to Britain. There were occasions when a procession might run into a different kind of trouble, especially in Kyoto: this was because a daimyō might be inferior in rank to an aristocrat from the Imperial Palace, although the latter was politically powerless. The appearance of such a personage in the vicinity of a procession would have caused no small confusion, with the daimyō having to get out of his palanquin to prostrate himself in the roadway. However, these aristocrats were in fairly impoverished circumstances and not unwilling to augment their scanty official incomes, so some were not above hinting that unless they were suitably rewarded, they might well find they had business at the critical time and place.

However, the processions normally proceeded uninterrupted, along the highways of Japan which linked Edo and the great cities and domains, the most important being the Eastern Sea Road, the Tōkaiō; it was at the time the world’s busiest highway, running between what were then two of the world’s largest cities, for it went from the Shogun’s capital to that of the Emperor, with a branch to the great shrine of Ise, and extending on to Osaka. Perhaps the greatest contrast between these highways and comparable ones in Europe was that there was no wheeled traffic on them. Carriages drawn by oxen were the perquisite of the Imperial court, and these would occasionally be seen around the streets and avenues of Kyoto. Some festivals employed wheeled carts in pageants, but such carts were ungainly vehicles with a fixed wheelbase, and drawn by crowds of men. Sometimes the transport of heavy loads, such as big stones for castle walls, would necessitate the use of wheeled wagons. None of these, however, affected the great highways, where travelers went on foot, or rode horses, or were carried in kago, palanquins like boxes suspended from a pole which the bearers bore on their shoulders. Hence no great width of roadway was required, and as there were no carts to make ruts or get stuck in them, metalling was unnecessary, for it takes extremely bad conditions to prevent men and plodding horses from getting through.

(16) Ferryboat on the Tōkaidō. In the background is the familiar silhouette of Mt Fuji.

The roads were often marked by rows of trees planted close together on both sides, either tall cedars (cryptomeria) or pine trees, their purpose being to define the road and prevent travelers wandering off it, and also to provide shade from sun and shelter from rain and snow. Across mountain terrain the roads would become narrower and more difficult, although well engineered. River-crossings were considerable obstacles, for there were few bridges in the country as opposed to the towns, where bridges were a common feature. Japanese rivers usually have wide beds, along which for much of the year the flow of water is divided into relatively narrow streams, at which time they did not present serious obstacles to travelers. Ferryboats were used (16), and in some places porters carried people or their burdens through the water on their shoulders or on their heads. When floods came down, such crossings would become temporarily impassable and traffic be brought to an enforced halt; not for long, however, for water subsides quickly in Japan.

It would seem that the government was faced with a dilemma with regard to roads. On the one hand, good communication was necessary between Edo and the provinces, to enable officials and messengers to go speedily from one place to another; on the other, the Shogun’s fear of rebellion and armed attack made him wish to restrict freedom of movement for those who were not traveling in his service. He achieved these ends partly by making the roads suitable only for foot and horse traffic, and partly by keeping in existence the system of barriers that had been in use since early times, thus using the roads themselves as controls on movement along them. It was a serious offence to try to evade the check of the officials at the barriers by taking to the fields in an attempt to bypass them, so that having to go through these barriers, of which it is estimated that more than 70 existed, had the double effect of forcing everyone to go along the roads provided, while being kept under close supervision.

An important function of this control at the barriers was to prevent the daimyō from moving any of his family out of Edo without permission; in particular the road-watchers had to make sure that no women moved out with the processions. Women who traveled had to carry a special certificate of authorization which carried a full description, and they often underwent a considerable ordeal of search and interrogation at the barriers—and the higher the rank, the worse it might be. Another careful watch was kept to see that no arms, especially firearms, in sufficient quantities to be used in a revolt, were taken into Edo. Restrictions extended to the number of a daimyō’s attendants: for example, under the eighth Shogun (Yoshimune, 1716-45), it was laid down that daimyō rated at 200,000 koku or more were to have with them 120-30 foot soldiers and 250-300 servants and porters, while those of 100,000 koku or more could have 80 and 140-80 respectively. These numbers, when account is taken of the higher-grade samurai who were also accompanying their lord, were big enough to make these processions a considerable drain on daimyō resources, but not big enough for them to constitute a threat to the central government.

The highways were divided off into stages, at each of which was a post-station, whose duty it was to have horses and porters available for the next stage (17). The whole system was administered by an office of the government, by whom the charges for use of the service were fixed. Certain government officials were given passes which entitled them to one horse and three men free of charge. Daimyō on an official journey were charged a special low rate up to a certain maximum, over which they had to pay standard charges. They also gave notice of their plans beforehand, so that post-stations and inns could prepare what was necessary. The responsibility for providing horses and men was imposed on the local farmers, and this was just one of the ways in which they were parasitized by the samurai.

The daimyō procession was an impressive sight, with its marching men, horses, and lacquered palanquins, and was made more so by the banners, spears, and halberds in their decorative coverings, and other colorful objects that were borne aloft by the attendants. It formed a counterpart of the military parade as we know it in the West, and served to remind the populace of the places it passed through of the power and authority of their masters.

(17) Post-station, with travelers and scantily clad porters arriving. Sweaty bodies are rubbed down and horses unloaded.

This authority was exercised in the towns through a system of magistrates and police. In matters of administration the local organizations in the domains followed the model of the central government in Edo, in the titles as well as in the functions of the officials, so that a description of the system in Edo will serve for the whole country.

By 1631 this system had been built up to the pattern that was to persist throughout the period. First, there were two machi-bugyō, “town magistrates,” who between them combined what would now be the functions of chief of police, judge and mayor. They did not, however, divide these functions between themselves, but each performed them all, being on duty for a month and off duty for the next. They were known as the North and the South. This sort of duplication was typical of the Shogun’s government: in his patient preoccupation with self-preservation he tried by every means to ensure that no possible rival gained enough power to overthrow him. Each of the two magistrates was a check on the other and neither had all the resources of his office in his own hand. Both had to sign reports submitted to the government, and one result of the dual system was that individual enterprise was hampered. However, as the population of Edo increased with the tendency of people to move in from the country whenever they could, the duties of the magistrate grew more onerous, and he was glad to make full use of his month off duty to catch up with all the reports and inquiries relating to his last month on duty. Every day the magistrate on duty went to the Castle, arriving by 10 o’clock in the morning, and not leaving until about 2 o’clock. His business was with the Senior Councilors, four, or sometimes five, officials who headed the administration and were responsible to the Shogun for a wide range of affairs. He would report to them any action he had taken and receive their orders.

The post of Edo magistrate was reserved for retainers of the Shogun with the low rating of 500 koku, but it carried with it an allowance of 3,000 koku. The court rank that went with the position was equal to that of some daimyō, and another indication of its importance is that outstanding holders of other posts that were technically equal in status were sometimes transferred to that of Edo magistrate. His life was a busy one, for on his return to his office he would have to deal with the accumulation of paper work and other routine matters. He was not only responsible for the policing of Edo, but also dealt with civil disputes and issued travel passes. He did not, however, have to deal with samurai and priests, for whom there were special officials. These he would meet three times a month when, with the Senior Councilors and others, they would form a sort of high court to deal with the more serious cases.

Each magistrate had immediately under him 25 yoriki or assistant magistrates. They too were samurai, direct retainers of the Shogun, with a rating of 200 koku. Yoriki who were employed in other departments would normally receive personal appointments and not have hereditary entry into their positions, but those who worked for the Edo magistrates in practice followed their fathers and grandfathers into their profession, entering a sort of apprenticeship at the age of 13 or thereabouts. This strong family tradition meant that the yoriki really knew their Edo, and they clearly formed the permanent cadre of experience and knowledge that the magistrate himself, especially when newly appointed, would rely on for the day-to-day running of his office. The yoriki had no hope of promotion, and lived all together in the same quarters. They thus formed a tight group, cut off by their profession and class from the townsmen with whom they were in daily contact, and also discriminated against by their superiors, for their work debarred them from entering the Castle, for fear that they would bring in contamination because of their connection with death when criminals were executed—even though the actual execution was carried out by “non-humans.” The yoriki have the reputation of having been very proud of their appearance, with hair kept very neat, and always wearing two swords, with hakama and haori. It is probable that their official income was augmented by substantial gifts from daimyō, in return for looking after their retainers when they got drunk and disorderly.

(18) Yoriki (left) and dōshin with a female prisoner, weeping at her misfortune.

Still lower-grade samurai, known as dōshin, “companions,” worked under the yoriki, and each magistrate had 120 of them (18). They too tended to be a closely-knit hereditary group. Their income was 30 bales of rice, and they too received gifts from the daimyō, very often a haori with his crest on it, so that, since a dōshin might get them from several daimyō, he had to be careful to put on the right one when making a call at the residence of one of his benefactors. Two points should be noted about these gifts: firstly, gifts of clothing have been customary for at least 1,000 years in Japan, and until well into the present century it was still normal to give such a present to one’s maid at the New Year; secondly, while the giving of such gifts might well be counted as bribery in modern times, traditional Japan was a world in which the superior and the official expected to receive them as a right, and although the receipt of a gift involved some obligation, this could immediately be forgotten in the course of official duty.

The dōshin maintained an individual style of dress, for although they were classed as samurai, they wore only one sword, and no hakama, and did not don the more formal dress even on ceremonial occasions, thus distinguishing themselves from the normal run of samurai. The dōshin formed the lowest rank of peace officer, and it was they that patrolled the streets of Edo, carrying as their symbol of office the jitte, the steel wand with a hook (19), the purpose of which was to catch the blade of the sword or knife of an attacker. The dōshin did not seek to conceal his identity, but rather resembled a uniformed officer on the beat. Edo was divided into four patrols, which meant a good deal of ground to cover. He took with him two or three assistants and called at the various watch-points that were sited in the subdivisions, manned by a representative of the local residents’ association. Should there be any investigation to be made, he would send in his assistants with local men to make an arrest, not actually participating himself unless absolutely necessary. The assistants of the dōshin were townsfolk employed by him, and they too carried the jitte as their symbol of authority; however, to a large extent, they were the eyes and ears of the police, as they also acted as informers.

In a society like that of traditional Japan, where the principle of the inequality of human beings was accepted, every effort was made to preserve the life and safety of those of superior rank. The operation of the police force was along these lines, and most of the physical effort was put out by the assistants to the dōshin, and it would take a very serious incident to bring in the yoriki. There was a certain amount of specialized equipment available to the dōshin and his men for use in catching a suspect. Against the sword attack there was either the jitte, or a weighted steel chain (19) that wrapped itself round the blade. Four ladders on their sides could be used to box in a criminal, and long staves furnished with spikes and barbs could be used to inflict minor injury and wear him out, while keeping him too far away to use a sword. The first principle was that a suspect must be taken alive, and at the earliest possible moment he was secured with ropes; the tying up of prisoners was brought to a fine art of speed and security. If ever it was deemed necessary to call out the yoriki, he would go to the scene on horseback, with chain body amour beneath his kimono, and protection for hands and arms, and on his head a flat lacquered or iron-plated helmet: he would direct operations from a safe distance, and only ride in and use his lance to incapacitate the criminal if all else failed.

(19) Jitte: various types of jitte, chains, and handcuffs.

Once the arrest had been made, the prisoner was taken off to the office of the magistrate on duty. The Edo jail was in Denmacho, and dangerous criminals would be lodged there immediately, with a warrant from the magistrate, while less dangerous ones could be detained at the magistrate’s office. With the prisoner in detention, the next stage in the process of administering justice was to persuade him to confess to his crime, for this was a prerequisite of punishment, especially when this involved execution. Basically, this was probably founded on principles of justice, to avoid punishing the innocent; confession is still, of course, preferred by the courts of many countries. (The Anglo-Saxon concept that a case should be decided on the evidence, and that a man can be expected to lie to conceal his guilt, is by no means universal.) However, the necessity for a confession implies the necessity for persuasion, if the prisoner is unwilling to confess of his own free will. Flogging, pressing with stones and water torture were among the methods available, and were no doubt put to use, just as in England it was possible to press to death prisoners who refused to plead guilty or not guilty and who therefore could not be tried. In Japan, however, the power of authority was such that few guilty men would have persisted in any denials. When the confession came, the prisoner was taken before the magistrate, and there on shirasu, the “white sand” (20), an area before the office where the prisoners and witnesses knelt before the magistrate and gave their evidence, they heard his judgment. The “white sand” was symbolical of the truth of what was said there, and behind the name shirasu there lies, perhaps, the verb of the same pronunciation meaning “inform.”

The most serious punishment was the death penalty, which might take several forms, and might also be followed by exposure of the corpse, as an added shame. Crimes for which death was the punishment included murder, robbery, and some kinds of adultery, while burning alive was the fate of anyone convicted of arson, a much-feared crime in Japan. As an alternative to death at the executioner’s hand, a samurai was sometimes allowed to commit suicide (seppuku), by which act he preserved his honor: what in fact usually happened was that immediately the knife was plunged into the left side of the abdomen, and the cut made towards the center, the head was struck off by a blow from a friend’s sword, thus cutting short the death-agony. The punishment next in severity was banishment of various degrees, from exile on some distant island down to banishment beyond ten ri (25 miles) from Edo, banishment from Edo, or just exclusion from the culprit’s home district. Lighter punishments varied according to class. There were periods of house arrest and other restrictions on liberty. Women were sometimes punished by having their hair shaved off. Imprisonment was not a punishment; prisons existed only as places for detention while a decision was taken about guilt and sentence. Treatment in them was harsh, although a magistrate, Ooka, who served from 1717 to 1736, and who is still remembered for his legendary ability in solving difficult cases, is credited with having brought in humanitarian reforms, especially in relation to the interrogation of prisoners. Even in prison, samurai were lodged separately according to whether they were superior or inferior in rank, and apart from commoners, while women were also kept in separate areas. Yet another testimony to the power of authority in Japan is that if a serious fire broke out near the jail, the prisoners were released on parole, although with the prospect of very heavy penalties if they failed to return at the specified time.

(20) Shirasu: two prisoners, elaborately roped up, appear before the magistrate. Humanity allows them rough mats to kneel on.

The magistrate did not deal only with criminal offences, but also had to settle disputes between individuals. It is interesting to note that the method of dealing with these involved a “cooling-off ” period, such as might be used today. On the first application to the office, the complainant would have his statement recorded, but would be sent away for a few days. If he returned then, the magistrate himself appeared, and ordered him to reconsider. If he persisted, the duty of investigating the complaint was given to a yoriki, who would normally carry the inquiry through, although in difficult cases it might have to go back to the magistrate, who would, in any event, deliver the final verdict.

This description of the machinery of justice in Edo serves to give some impression of the way officials worked, and of the sort of situation in which they came in contact with ordinary people. Some samurai would of course be in direct touch with farmers and with suppliers, but others also managed certain enterprises that would more usually be run by merchants. One outstanding example of this was the notorious gold mine of Aikawa in the island of Sado, where folk memory has preserved tales of the harshness of the samurai overseers, and of the sufferings of young men forced to labor in the galleries and workings. They were in charge of an official who was equal in status to the Edo town magistrate. In other territories and domains there were other enterprises administered by samurai, which means that there were many who acquired experience in industrial matters: with the growth of industry after the middle of the nineteenth century, many former samurai were thus able to play their part in the new developments.

In their leisure pursuits as much as in their working hours, the samurai were supposed to be a class apart. However, many of them spent their spare time in ways that were frowned on, since they were not encouraged to participate in any of the leisure activities of the townsfolk, things such as theatre-going and visiting the brothel districts, although it is quite clear that they did so all the same, and with the minimum of subterfuge. Many other entertainments were officially available. Of course, lower samurai, who might be called upon to use their fighting skill if it came to an encounter with robbers or fractious peasants, would do a certain amount of military training, and wrestling, swordsmanship, archery, riding, and swimming were all practiced. Upper samurai, while learning swordsmanship with some seriousness, pursued the study of other military sports in the same sort of spirit as they did tea ceremony and flower-arrangement (21)—that is, as something more like a hobby, but learnt and practiced with great seriousness and a constant search for inner significance.

All these artistic pursuits were organized into “schools”, and learnt from authorized teachers only, who taught strictly in accordance with the rules of their individual schools. Differences between them were sometimes quite small, and very often without practical importance. Even a non-artistic pursuit such as swimming was organized on a “school” basis, each one teaching different strokes of the arms and legs, or the tactical use of various swimming styles, or horsemanship in water. The Ogasawara school was supreme in the study of polite behavior, which included methods of greeting, posture, manners at mealtimes, and so on, and also dealt with archery, a ritualized sport with considerable formality of procedure, in which as much, or even more, importance was placed upon gracefulness of movement and correctness of etiquette, as upon hitting the bull’s-eye. Cruder archery competitions were sometimes indulged in, but only by lower samurai: one of these that is remembered took place at a temple in Kyoto, the Sanjūsangen-do, which has a hall over 200 feet long crowded with statues. The outside gallery of this hall was used in a competition, the object of which was to shoot as many arrows as possible in a given time from one end to the other. An overhanging roof made it impossible to flight the arrows high (the beams still bear the marks where stray shots have hit), so that a strong, flat trajectory was necessary. The best performance is credited to a samurai in 1686, who shot 13,000 arrows, of which 8,033 reached the end of the balcony.

(21) Samurai view flower-arrangement. A senior samurai, with two of less exalted rank, gaze at a flower-arrangement in a toko-no-ma (see p. 147). The figure on the right, with shaven head and fan in hand, is a Buddhist priest.

A more active sport for senior samurai was hunting. The taking of life was against the tenets of Buddhism, according to which the killing of animals might bring punishment in the next world; nevertheless, many hunted game for food, and the use of the matchlock was common, although it is unlikely that shooting was considered a sport. Quite different from this practical hunting were the large-scale expeditions by great lords. Indeed, some of the earlier Sho-guns indulged in these from time to time, until they were brought to a halt by the fifth Shogun, Tsunayoshi (1680-1709). He is remembered as the “dog” Shogun, because of his protection for these animals, occasioned by the advice received from a Buddhist priest that his childlessness was a punishment for having taken life in a previous existence: he chose the dog for his particular favor because it was the calendar sign of the year of his birth. The power of the Shogun is demonstrated by the effect that this idiosyncrasy had on the country. Some persons were even banished for killing dogs, a vast dog-pound was established in Edo for the care of strays, paid for by a special dog-tax, while the general ban on animal-killing made it difficult for the farmer to protect his crops. All this did not bring Tsunayoshi a son, however, and he was succeeded by a nephew, who immediately brought the dog-favoring edicts to an end. The Shogun Yoshimune (1716-45) was an energetic instigator of reforms, and also endeavored to bring the samurai back to their early simplicity by encouraging them to take physical exercise. In particular he favored hunting, and in the list of nicknames of Shoguns he is called the “falcon” Shogun. On his hawking expeditions he was accompanied by a large retinue, and the victims were cranes and other wild birds. He also revived the deer and boar hunts that had been favorite sports of some of his predecessors: these were decidedly unsporting affairs in which the game was driven towards the “hunters,” who dispatched them with arrows or gunshot from the safety of horseback.

An anecdote preserved in the diary (1692) of a samurai in Nagoya reveals the standard of values at the time.

The lord of Iyo (in Shikoku) lost a favorite hawk, and sought for it throughout his domain. One day a certain farmer went out to tend his fields, while his wife stayed at home with her weaving. A hawk flew in and perched on her loom. The wife took her shuttle and struck the bird, which straightway died. The farmer returned home and was told by his wife how a beautifully marked bird had settled on her loom, how she had struck at it without intending to kill it, but how the bird had unfortunately died. Her husband looked at it and saw it was a hawk. He was greatly alarmed, for he knew that the lord was searching for such a bird. With much trepidation he told the village headman about what had happened, and the occurrence was reported to the bailiff. The latter, in great anger, had the husband and wife bound, and taken before his lord for trial. The lord, too, was enraged, and had the wife crucified, but pardoned the husband because he was not at home at the time in question.

The story goes on to relate that when the husband went to pray for his wife, he found that she was still alive, and the lord, hearing this, had her taken down. She claimed to have been saved by a protective deity. The samurai who noted all this did not seem to find the treatment of the woman surprising; it was her return to life that astonished him.

However, the hunting Yoshimune was exceptional, as the Shogun did not normally participate in active sports. Their amusements were usually much less energetic, and they would be spectators rather than participants. For example, they and the daimyō supported sumō, a form of wrestling, which already had a long history of popularity in Japan, as well as the patronage of the Imperial court. Another source of entertainment was the drama. Samurai were discouraged from going to the theatres where the merchants formed the audiences, but this did not prevent daimyō and others from summoning companies or individual performers to their residences. The Shogun would have nō plays given in the Castle, and would allow the townsfolk to see one of the performances. Surviving records show that the lords of Tottori were great patrons of the nō when they were doing their obligatory attendance upon the Shogun. The daimyō himself played the chief role in many of the plays, which were put on to entertain his guests, often other daimyō, at parties, in the latter part of the seventeenth century. Actors and musicians were paid with money or clothing, and, if asked to travel, were given special allowances and an escort. Kabuki and the puppet-plays were also to be seen in the residence, but less often than the nō, the puppets being specially for the diversion of the lower ranks of the household.

Another, and much more personal, record is a diary left by a lord known as Matsudaira, Governor of Yamato (a province he had nothing to do with, his title being a purely nominal one granted by the Imperial court), who died in Edo in his fifty-fourth year, in 1695. He was interested in artistic pursuits and entertainments of all sorts, including calligraphy, perfume-discrimination, nō plays and their comic interludes (kyōgen), puppet and kabuki plays, painting, poetry of all kinds, dancing, wrestling, and hunting. He was in almost daily touch with events in the theatre district, often sending men there to see performances and report on them, or interrogating those who had passed by the theatres about what new signs were up and what the gossip was. His circle of acquaintances was apparently composed of admirers of the puppet-plays in particular, for he often mentions going to parties at other mansions and being entertained by famous performers, besides putting on similar performances for his own guests (22).

(22) Puppet-show in a daimyō’s residence.

It might be a little cynical to suggest that the rarest entertainment for the Shogun’s court was the annual visit from the head (or Captain) of the Dutch factory (trading post) in Nagasaki. This was seen partly as a favor to allow him to escape for a few weeks from his narrow quarters, and partly, of course, as an opportunity to acquire some curious foreign gifts. In 1691 a German doctor, Engelbert Kaempfer, was physician to the Dutch, and went with them to Edo. He has left a vivid description of his journey, and of his audiences with the Shogun. The first of these was formal, but, says, Kaempfer, for their second audience they were

conducted through several dark galleries. Along all these several galleries there was one continual row of lifeguard men, and nearer to the Imperial apartments followed, in the same row, some great officers of the Crown, who lined the front of the hall of the audience, clad in their garments of ceremony, bowing their heads, and sitting on their heels. The hall of audience was just as I represented it in the Figure hereunto annexed (23). It consisted of several rooms, looking towards a middle place, some of which were laid open towards the same, others covered by screens and lattices. Some were of 15 mats, others of 18, and they were a mat higher or lower, according to the quality of the persons seated in the same. The middle place had no mats at all, they having been taken away, and was consequently the lowest, on whose floor, covered with neat varnished boards, we were commanded to sit down. The Emperor [i.e. the Shogun] and his Imperial Consort sat behind the lattices on our right....By Lattices, I mean hangings made of reed, split exceeding thin and fine and covered on the back with a fine transparent silk, with openings about a span broad, for the person behind to look through. For ornament’s sake, and the better to hide the persons standing behind, they are painted in divers figures, though otherwise it would be impossible to see them at a distance, chiefly when the light is taken off behind. The Emperor himself was in such an obscure place, that we should scarce have known him to be present, had not his voice discovered him, which was yet so low, as if he purposely intended to be there incognito. Just before us, behind other lattices, were the Princes of the blood, and the Ladies of the Empress. I took notice, that pieces of paper were put between the reeds in some parts of the Lattices, to make the openings wide, in order to have a better and easier sight. I counted about thirty such papers, which made me conclude, that there was about that number of persons sitting behind....We were commanded to sit down, having first made our obeisances after the Japanese manner, creeping and bowing our heads to the ground, towards that part of the Lattices, behind which the Emperor was. The chief Interpreter sat himself a little forward, to hear more distinctly, and we took our places on his left hand all in a row.

(23) Kaempfer at the Shogun’s court.

In the ensuing conversation the Shogun’s words were directed to the President of the Council of State, who repeated them to the interpreter, for transmission to the visitors. Kaempfer remarks:

I fancy that the words, as they flow out of the Emperor’s mouth are esteemed too precious and sacred for an immediate transit into the mouth of persons of low rank.

After interrogation about the outside world and on medical matters, the foreigners were ordered by the Shogun to

take off our Cappa, or Cloak, being our garment of ceremony, then to stand upright, that he might have a full view of us; again to walk, to stand still, to compliment each other, to dance, to jump, to play the drunkard, to speak broken Japanese, to read Dutch, to paint, to sing, to put our cloaks on and off. Mean while we obeyed the Emperor’s commands in the best manner we could, I joined to my dance a love-song in High German. In this manner, and with innumerable such other apish tricks, we must suffer ourselves to contribute to the Emperor’s and the Court’s diversion....Having been thus exercised for a matter of two hours, though with great apparent civility, some servants came in and put before each of us a small table with Japanese victuals, and a couple of Ivory sticks, instead of knives and forks. We took and eat some little things, and our old chief Interpreter, though scarce able to walk, was commanded to carry away the remainder for himself.

(24) The Shogun attended by ladies-in-waiting (wax models). Behind the tasseled doors in this private apartment in the Nijo Castle an armed guard was always on duty.

(25) The Shogun’s ladies exercising with the halberd.

Kaempfer was a trained observer and one can accept his description as accurate. It is possible that the mats were removed in the area of floor in which the Dutchmen appeared because they wore shoes. The Japanese always left their outdoor footwear at the entrance, and from then on went either barefoot or wearing tabi, the divided socks—unless they were on urgent official business, such as making an arrest, in which case they would go straight in, thus increasing, incidentally, the psychological shock of the irruption.

It sounds as if Kaempfer in this unofficial audience penetrated as far as the semi-private domestic quarters, one of the three main divisions of the Edo Castle: the “front,” where business was conducted, the “middle interior,” referred to above, and the “great interior,” which was the women’s quarters (24). The organization of the latter is believed to have been modeled on that of the Chinese court. In the Edo “great interior” only very few men were allowed in—the Shogun himself, some senior counselors, doctors, and priests. The women had ranks reminiscent of those of the government, with a jealously preserved hierarchy, and they were even prepared to fight if necessary, being trained in the use of the halberd (25). They were recruited from the daughters of direct retainers, and started their apprenticeship at about the age of 12. It was, of course, a great honor to serve in this establishment, and usually it was a job for life, although occasionally a Shogun would release a concubine of whom he had grown tired, giving her in marriage to one of his retainers, just as he might take in some beauty at a later age than was usual. He had a consort (Kaempfer’s Empress), whom he would have married for political reasons, but nobody would have expected him not to have other women—Ienari, the eleventh Shogun (1787-1838), is reported to have had 15 concubines and 24 less regularly chosen companions. The formula used by the Shogun, indicating his choice for the night, was for him to ask one of the senior women: “What is that girl’s name?” which would set the machinery of preparation in motion.

A great deal of the time of these women was spent in dressing and making-up (26), since their costume and appearance at their various duties in attendance on their master was governed by the strictest etiquette. Then all the polite attainments—flower arrangement, tea ceremony, incense-discrimination—had to be practiced, and there was a certain amount of leisure for things like playing poem-cards, or cherry-blossom viewing in the Castle grounds. Perhaps the ever-present occupation was the pursuit of intrigue, backbiting, and jealousy inescapable from the circumstances they lived in. Occasionally there were intrigues of another sort, and one in particular is worth recording for the light it throws on the less conventional activities of the Tokugawa ladies. One of the inmates of the harem, as it might justifiably be called, by name Ejima, had acquired a fairly elevated position, and it was one of her duties to deal with the trades people who were appointed to furnish goods to the Shogun’s household. Either directly, or through the intermediary of a doctor in the Castle, she was approached by certain merchants who wished to join the favored circle, and as part of the inducement she was taken to the Nakamura theatre, and introduced to one of its actors, Ikushima. Accounts of the incident vary in detail—she may even have smuggled him into her room at the Castle—but they had an affair, Ikushima’s part in which may have been due to a substantial bribe from the merchants involved rather than from his true sentiments. They were observed, reports sent to the authorities, and in 1714 Ejima was sent into exile (her punishment might have been worse had she not been protected by the Shogun’s favorite), as were Ikushima and other members of the theatre. Ejima’s brother, however, was condemned to death, not necessarily because he had anything to do with the scandal, but because a family was responsible for its members. The four theatres that existed in Edo at the time were closed; three of them were allowed later to reopen, but the Nakamura went out of business forever. There were several elements in the incident that were particularly repugnant to the government, among them being the intrusion of another man into the Shogun’s sexual domain, and the involvement of members of the samurai class with merchants and the power of their money.

(26) The Shogun’s ladies at their toilet.

The disparity of status between men and women among the samurai was far greater than in the lower classes. The official wife was always chosen for reasons of policy, never of affection, and in fact it is clearly stated in the various samurai codes that such an important thing as marriage should not be undertaken lightly, but only after serious consideration of all the factors involved. The humbler the samurai the better the treatment he gave his wife, while those of the daimyō, who had to spend their whole time in Edo, were particularly unfortunate, though they were not lacking in material comfort. The moral standards required of each side were vastly different: the samurai demanded the strictest fidelity from their womenfolk, but, of course, were completely free from such restrictions themselves. A mistress or concubine could not, by edict, become an official spouse, although the frequency with which such edicts were published suggests that perhaps some samurai became sentimentally attached to the extent of wishing to marry a mistress.