imposed by this taxation. For example, here in the village of Tomogi, they tell the story of how, five years ago, the wife and children of a man called Mozaemon were seized as hostages and put in the water prison simply because he did not pay his tax of five bags of rice. The peasants are the slaves of the samurai, and above them stand the landowners. The samurai make much of weapons and, irrespective of rank, they all carry a dagger and a sword once they reach the age of thirteen or fourteen. The landowner has absolute power over the samurai, and he can kill at will anyone he does not like and confiscate all his property.
The Japanese go bareheaded both in winter and in summer, and the clothing they wear leaves them exposed to the cold. Generally they cut off their hair so as to be completely bald, only leaving one long tress of hair hanging down their back. The bonzes shave their heads completely, and there are others also, not bonzes, among the samurai, who do likewise. …
… this is a sudden break.
I’m going to write to you as accurately as possible what happened on June 5th, though this report may well end up by being very brief. In our present plight we cannot say when the danger will come upon us. It may be that I will not have a chance to write to you at length and in detail.
On the 5th, around noon, I had a feeling that something strange was going on in the village down below. Through the trees we could hear the incessant barking of dogs. On quiet days, of course, when the weather is fine, it is not unusual for the bark of dogs and even the clucking of hens to be carried faintly up here—and indeed the sound is something of a consolation in our confinement; but today we felt somehow uneasy about it. Suspecting that something ominous might be in the wind, we went to the east side of the copse to look down and see what was going on. From here we could get the best view of the village at the foot of the mountain.
The first thing that caught our attention was a cloud of white dust on the road which skirted the sea and led into the village. What could this be? A bare-backed horse was galloping wildly out of the village at the entrance of which stood five men (clearly they were not our peasants) firmly barring the way so that no one could escape.
We realized immediately what had happened: the guards had come to search the village. Garrpe and I, falling over ourselves in haste, rushed back to our hut and, grabbing everything that might betray us, buried it in the hole dug by Ichizo. That done we plucked up courage and decided to go down through the trees and have a clearer view of what was going on in the village.
Not a sound could be heard. The white noonday sun beat mercilessly down on the road and on the village. All we could clearly see was the shadow of the farm-houses lying black on the road. Why was there no sign of life? Even the barking of the dogs had suddenly come to an end, and Tomogi was like an ancient, abandoned ruin. Yet I could sense the awful silence that enveloped the whole place. Earnestly I prayed to God. Well I knew that we should not pray for the happiness and good fortune of this world; yet I prayed and prayed that this awful noonday silence might forever be taken away from the village over which it hung so ominously.
Again the dogs began to bark as the men who had formed a block at the entrance to the village rushed out. Mingled with them we could see the form of the Jiisama—that poor old man—bound tightly with ropes. From his horse a samurai, wearing a black umbrella-like hat, shouted out an order and they all formed a single file behind the old man and then moved forward. Another samurai brandishing a whip led the way alone, with his own cloud of white dust, and as he rode he kept glancing backwards. The memory of the whole thing still remains vividly in my mind: the horses lifting high their legs as they galloped along, the old man reeling and staggering as he was dragged off
The Japanese go bareheaded both in winter and in summer, and the clothing they wear leaves them exposed to the cold. Generally they cut off their hair so as to be completely bald, only leaving one long tress of hair hanging down their back. The bonzes shave their heads completely, and there are others also, not bonzes, among the samurai, who do likewise. …
… this is a sudden break.
I’m going to write to you as accurately as possible what happened on June 5th, though this report may well end up by being very brief. In our present plight we cannot say when the danger will come upon us. It may be that I will not have a chance to write to you at length and in detail.
On the 5th, around noon, I had a feeling that something strange was going on in the village down below. Through the trees we could hear the incessant barking of dogs. On quiet days, of course, when the weather is fine, it is not unusual for the bark of dogs and even the clucking of hens to be carried faintly up here—and indeed the sound is something of a consolation in our confinement; but today we felt somehow uneasy about it. Suspecting that something ominous might be in the wind, we went to the east side of the copse to look down and see what was going on. From here we could get the best view of the village at the foot of the mountain.
The first thing that caught our attention was a cloud of white dust on the road which skirted the sea and led into the village. What could this be? A bare-backed horse was galloping wildly out of the village at the entrance of which stood five men (clearly they were not our peasants) firmly barring the way so that no one could escape.
We realized immediately what had happened: the guards had come to search the village. Garrpe and I, falling over ourselves in haste, rushed back to our hut and, grabbing everything that might betray us, buried it in the hole dug by Ichizo. That done we plucked up courage and decided to go down through the trees and have a clearer view of what was going on in the village.
Not a sound could be heard. The white noonday sun beat mercilessly down on the road and on the village. All we could clearly see was the shadow of the farm-houses lying black on the road. Why was there no sign of life? Even the barking of the dogs had suddenly come to an end, and Tomogi was like an ancient, abandoned ruin. Yet I could sense the awful silence that enveloped the whole place. Earnestly I prayed to God. Well I knew that we should not pray for the happiness and good fortune of this world; yet I prayed and prayed that this awful noonday silence might forever be taken away from the village over which it hung so ominously.
Again the dogs began to bark as the men who had formed a block at the entrance to the village rushed out. Mingled with them we could see the form of the Jiisama—that poor old man—bound tightly with ropes. From his horse a samurai, wearing a black umbrella-like hat, shouted out an order and they all formed a single file behind the old man and then moved forward. Another samurai brandishing a whip led the way alone, with his own cloud of white dust, and as he rode he kept glancing backwards. The memory of the whole thing still remains vividly in my mind: the horses lifting high their legs as they galloped along, the old man reeling and staggering as he was dragged off
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