beans, cabbages, cresses, and egg plants are produced to some extent. The
wheat and barley are reaped in May, and the rice, which is first sown
and then transplanted, as in Lew Chew, is ready for the latter operation in
the middle of June, and these crops succeed each other year after year.
During the winter, part of the rice fields, that which lies low, is left fallow,
while the terraces are turned into wheat fields. In preparing the fields for
the reception of the young shoots of rice, they are overflowed with water,
and then reduced by ploughing and harrowing into a soft well mixed mud.
Subsequently, a substratum of grass and small bushes is trodden down below
the surface by the feet. The laborer putting on a couple of broad
pieces of wood, like a pair of snow shoes, goes tramping over the grass and
bushes, laboring until they all disappear below the surface of the mud.
This operation over, the small plants are transferred from the plot where
they have been sown to the fields, where they are allowed to remain until
maturity. The rice crop is ready for harvesting in the latter part of September
or early in the ensuing month. Oxen and horses are occasionally used
in agricultural operations, but the labor is mostly performed by hand.
Whatever may be the moral character of the inhabitants of Simoda, it
might be supposed, from the great number of places of worship, that they
are a highly devotional people. Though the peculiar religions of the Japanese
seem to be sustained in a flourishing condition, the people are rather
remarkable for their toleration of all kinds of worship, except that of the
Christian, for which, in consequence of the political intrigues of the Roman
Catholic priesthood, centuries ago, they have an intense hatred, carefully
inculcated by those in authority, who keep alive the traditional enmity engendered
at the epoch when the Portuguese were expelled the Empire.
The Buddhist and Sintoo worships are those most prevalent in Japan, and
the lower classes are strict but formal devotees, while it is suspected that
the higher and better educated are indifferent to all religions, and entertain
various speculative opinions, or seek refuge in a broad skepticism.
There are no less than nine Buddhist temples, one large Miay or Sintoo
temple, and a great number of smaller shrines. Those devoted to the worship
of Buddha have strange fanciful titles: the largest is called Rio-shen-
zhi, or Buddha’s obedient monastery; and there are Dai-an-zhi, or great
peace monastery; the Hon-gaku-zhi, or source of knowledge monastery;
the Too-den-zhi, or rice field monastery; the Fuku-zhen-zhi, or fountain of
happiness monastery; the Chio-raku-zhi, or continual joy monastery; the
Ri-gen-zhi, or source of reason monastery; and lastly, the Chio-me-zhi, or
long life monastery. Twenty-five priests and a few acolytes are attached
to these temples, and are supported by fees bestowed by devotees for burial
services, and the various offices peculiar to Buddhism. The buildings are
of wood, and although generally kept in tolerable repair, show the effects
of weather upon the unpainted surface. The roofs are tiled, and project, as
in the houses, beyond the walls. The posts which support the superstructure
are, together with the rest of the wood work, covered with the famous
Japanese lacquer. The floors, which are raised four or five feet above the
ground, are neatly covered with matting. At the door of the main apartment
there is a drum on the left and a bell on the right, the former of which
is beaten, and the latter tingled, at the commencement of worship, to awaken
the attention of the idols to the prayers of the devout. Between the
door and the central shrine there are several low lecterns, or reading desks,
near each of which there is conveniently placed a piece of wood carved in
the shape of a fish, which is used to beat time during the chanting, which
forms an important part of the religious services.
The shrine, in which are arranged the ancestral tablets, in niches, seems
to be an object of particular attention, for it was kept always in perfect order,
and the monuments and idols were not allowed to suffer from want of repair
or of a decent regard to cleanliness. The sculpture of the various images
was no better in art or more imposing in appearance than the ordinary figures
of Joss in the Chinese temples. An occasional picture is hung up as a
votive offering upon the walls, representing, rather rudely, some event in
the life of the worshipper, in the course of which he had reason, as he piously
believed, to be grateful for the services of Buddha or some of his
numerous progeny of subordinate deities. Certain boxes, distributed about
the temple, remind the Christian visitor of the duties of charity, and he
thinks with a pious recollection of the claims of the poor, which are suggested
by a practice similar to that in the old churches of his own faith.
His charitable feelings, however, are suddenly repelled when he learns the
object of the boxes, for the label upon them r e a d s il For feeding hungry
demons,” and the promise which follows that, “ his merit will be consolidated,”
is hardly inducement enough to contribute towards the necessities of the
devil, or any of his voracious legion. In front of some of the temples pillars
are found, upon which are inscribed an edict forbidding any liquors or meats
to be carried within the sacred precincts.
Connected with each monastery is a grave-yard, in which there is a
great variety of monuments and tombstones. They are generally made of
a greenstone found in the neighborhood of Simoda, and have the various
forms of simple slabs, raised tombs, and obelisks. Among the monuments
are distributed statues of Buddha, varying in size from the largeness of life
to that of only a foot or less. They are represented in various attitudes,
some erect and others in a sitting posture, while many are carved in relief
upon slabs of stone, where Buddha is seen issuing from an opening shell, and
is figured sometimes with his hands clasped, or holding a lotus flower, a flytrap,
or some other symbol. A pleasant feature in the aspect of the otherwise
gloomy burial places, disfigured by the coarse and grotesque art of a
corrupt superstition, is the abundance of flowers which are plentifully dis