THE FISH-MARKET AT NIHONBASHI.
CHAPTER VI.
Fires and Firemen.
he four great ills that flesh is heir to in Japan are said to be earthquake, thunder, fire, and tidal wave. Graceless sons have, however, substituted father for the last of these, and nowadays paternal authority is commonly spoken of as being the fourth of the great evils of life. Well may the earthquake be put at the head of calamities, for the destruction it works is the most appalling in man’s experience. Thunder, on the other hand, is comparatively harmless. In summer the farmer welcomes it; and the popular way to escape the thunderbolt is to run into a mosquito-net and set up a knife and a joss-stick. The tidal wave, dreadful as is its effect when it overwhelms a coast, is rare and even then felt only on the sea-shore. As to the father, all mortals have to put up with him; but he is not so inexorable as the earthquake or tidal wave. He may be tamed by submission and even be coaxed into giving freely of his substance for his prodigal sons to squander. As he may, moreover, be circumvented through many tender spots in his heart, he does not deserve to be put in the same category as earthquakes. Science may in course of time predict earthquakes and enable us to prepare against them; but fires which may be wholly prevented by human care and caution are the most uncertain of all. No atmospheric changes precede their outbreak, which depends entirely upon human malice or stupidity, and that no science has yet fathomed. Fires seldom break out in country-sides, being the usual products of populous towns. “Flowers of Yedo” were they fitly called in the shogun’s capital, where they blossomed in perennial magnificence; and indeed so luxuriant and of such gorgeous hues were they that their successive blooms covered, in less than thirty years, a total space equal to the area of the whole city. The frequency of fires was due to the material of which most Japanese houses are built. Earthquakes make stone edifices dangerous unless they are on very solid foundations; and buildings of earth and plaster which usually serve as store-houses and occasionally as habitations, especially in the heart of the city, are both costly and uncomfortable in summer heat. In both respects wooden houses are preferable; and as wood is almost exclusively used in house-construction, the outbreak of a fire in a high wind is always of serious consequences. The Castle of Yedo has, since its first occupation by the Tokugawa family in 1590, been burnt down seven times. The first great fire in Yedo took place in 1601, when the whole city was laid in ruins; but as Tokugawa Iyeyasu did not become shogun until two years later, it had not yet been made the military capital of the country. Houses had, up to the outbreak of this fire, been entirely straw-thatched; and orders were forthwith given for rebuilding them with wooden roofs. At this time, one Takiyama Yajibei built his house with a roofing half-covered with tiles. This attracted attention, and Takiyama earned the sobriquet of Half-tile Yajibei; but his example was eagerly followed and before long all houses in Yedo were roofed with tiles.
Great fires were comparatively frequent in Yedo. Three of them were especially noted for their magnitude. The first which broke out in the first moon of 1657 is known as the Long-sleeve Fire. According to a popular legend, as a young daughter of a noble family was returning from a trip with her parents one spring day when the cherry trees were in full blossom, she caught sight of a temple-page
THE LONG-SLEEVED TEMPLE-PAGE.
with whom she fell in love on the spot. Thinking of him all day, she languished; and her mother placed at her sick-bed a long-sleeved garment of the same pattern as the page wore. The young girl who never ceased to gaze at it grew weaker every day and at length died. The long-sleeved garment was laid on her coffin, which was taken to the family temple of Hommyoji. The priests sold the dress to a second-hand clothes-dealer, and as it hung in his shop, it caught the fancy of a young girl, who bought it. Six months later, the girl died and the garment was laid on her coffin which was taken also to the same temple. The priests again sold it; and half a year later, the same garment was brought to the temple on the coffin of a third girl. The priests were struck with fear and amazement, and resolved to burn the fatal dress. And so they lit a bonfire into which they threw it; and as the flames flew up, a sudden wind arose and carried the burning garment aloft against the main hall of the temple, which instantly caught fire. The flames spread over the whole temple and thence into the street. For a day and a night the fire raged furiously, and only stopped for want of fuel when it came over the Sumida to the furthest end of the city. The fire became known after the mysterious long-sleeved garment that had caused it. Notwithstanding this tradition, there was really nothing in the circumstances of the fire noteworthy beyond its magnitude. For three months there had been neither rain nor snow; the wells had dried up and the houses were cracking from want of moisture. On the day of the fire, a violent north-west wind arose and spread the flames in a short time over the parched houses. The fire leapt over the River Sumida, and only stopped when it came to the end of the city after a course of three and a half miles. Next morning, another fire broke out half a mile to the west of Hommyoji, and the strong wind which had become more northerly carried it for four miles to the edge of the River Sumida; and in the afternoon a third conflagration with the gale still more northerly cleared three miles of houses. The shogun’s palace was reduced to ashes. The city prison was thrown open and prisoners were released on condition they returned after the fire; but when the warder of one of the city-gates saw them coming, he closed the portals to intercept them as he thought they had broken prison. The ordinary people as well as the prisoners were thus cut off from escape when the fire was closely pursuing them, and thousands upon thousands were burnt or crushed to death. Over a hundred thousand were reported to have perished in the city. The bodies that were unclaimed were buried in a plot of ground, 240 yards square, on the south side of the River Sumida, where a memorial temple was built. This temple which was first called Muyenji, or the temple of strangers, and later, Ekoin, or the temple for the reading of masses, became, a century and a half later, the scene of the annual wrestling matches. The second great fire took place in 1772, when the flames left behind a clear space, fifteen miles by two and a half, from the south-west outskirts of the city to beyond its north-east boundary; and in 1806, a fire which originated at the southern extremity of Yedo covered in twenty-two hours an area of nearly six miles in length and half a mile in width, and was only extinguished by a heavy rainfall. To this fire eighty-three daimyo’s mansions, eighty-six temples and shrines, and 530 streets fell victims; and 1,200 lives were lost.
Fires are more frequent in the latter half of winter and earlier half of spring than at any other season. Of fifty fires of greater or less magnitude which occurred in Yedo, four were in December, five in January, seventeen in February, sixteen in March, and three in April, leaving only five to the remaining seven months. Thus, more than three quarters took place in the first three months of the year. This frequency in the cold season is due to the prevalence of the north or north-west wind, and to the greater use of hearths, braziers, and other heat-generators, while the hardships of a rigorous winter also give rise to incendiarism.
Since the Restoration, there have been five great fires in Tokyo. The first broke out in 1872 when forty-one streets were destroyed, leaving a clear space, a mile and a half by a quarter. In 1876, seventy streets and ten thousand houses were burnt down; seventy-seven streets and 13,464 houses were effaced by a single fire in 1879; and in 1881, eleven thousand houses were razed to the ground. The last great fire occurred in 1892, when four thousand houses fell victims to the flames and thirty-four lives were lost. In these five cases, the wind was invariably north-west.
The shogun’s government was untiring in its efforts to prevent fires if we may judge from the numerous orders on the subject that were given to subordinate officers; but for a long time no fixed system was in operation. Whenever there was an alarm of fire, officers and common people rushed indiscriminately to extinguish it, and often succeeded only in adding to its violence. In 1658, after the long-sleeve fire of the preceding year, four companies of firemen were formed, who were employés of the government and exclusively engaged in the prevention and extinction of fires. In 1683, another company was added; in 1711, regulations were issued for controlling the conduct of firemen and others at fires; and a law was at the same time proclaimed against incendiarism. In 1718, however, under Ooka, the ablest and most celebrated of the magistrates of Yedo, a new system of fire-brigades was established. Every street was ordered to provide its own night-watch and in case of fire to supply thirty firemen, besides thirty others to assist the sufferers and to clear away the débris of burnt houses. But these men who were at first selected from among shopmen and apprentices were found to be unequal to the rough work required; and next year, they were replaced by workmen employed in house-building, who were eminently fit for the task. The system worked well and firemen soon formed a large army. They were in Yedo proper divided into ten brigades, which were again subdivided into forty-eight companies, while on the south-east side of the River Sumida there were sixteen companies. A century ago, these sixty-four companies mustered 10,360 firemen. Each company had and still has its standard, the matoi, surmounted with its distinctive crest, which indicates to the company the sphere of its work at the fire. The matoi-bearer’s post is, like the military standard-bearer’s, one of honour and danger; and many a matoi-bearer has been known to die enveloped in flames sooner than desert the post to which he had been ordered by his captain. The firemen were given their suits and small wages by the street or ward to which they belonged. But since the Restoration, they have all been put under the direct control of the Metropolitan Police Board, which also takes charge of all the fire-alarms in the city.
The fireman to-day is not what he used to be. He has not so much daring and pugnacity as formerly. At the beginning of the year, it is true, all the firemen appear in an open place and make a public display of their acrobatic skill on their ladders; but they fail to convince the beholder that they still retain unimpaired their former high spirit. They have sadly dwindled in number, their present strength being only 1,640, or less than a sixth part of the number a century ago. They are divided into six brigades, or forty companies.
AN OLD-STYLE FIRE LOOK-OUT.
Fire-engines which have recently come into use are now so successful, wherever there is a plentiful supply of water, in preventing fires from spreading, that the average annual ravages of fires are less in extent than a hundredth part of the total area of Tokyo. These engines have impressed the firemen with a sense of their waning importance, for they have no longer absolute control over fires. The fire-engines, useful as they are for the extinction of fires, are for that reason in disfavour with the true native of Tokyo, who admires the “flowers of Yedo” as much as the flowers of nature, for it is not worth while to turn out of bed on the first alarm of fire, as was his Wont, at midnight in winter at the risk of catching cold, and then run at full speed for half a dozen miles, only to find it extinguished, as would now be the case. Tokyo cannot now boast of what in the old days used to be one of its finest sights. The fire look-outs, too, which were such picturesque features of old Yedo, have disappeared, having been replaced by perpendicular ladders and towers that look more like scaffoldings.
Notwithstanding the good work done by fire-engines, the old-style fireman’s duties are still very important in a city of wooden structures like Tokyo. He is also interesting because, in spite of his deterioration, he still partially retains that spirit of old Yedo which found its fullest expression in the otokodate, a class of men who arose to protect their fellow-citizens from the oppression of the samurai. Tokugawa Iyeyasu, upon his accession to the Shogunate, felt uneasy as he knew many daimyo were ready at the first opportunity to revolt; and to be prepared for sudden attacks of these territorial lords, he surrounded himself with a large bodyguard of his immediate feudatories, the hatamoto or bannerets, who had followed him through all his fortunes from the lordship of a petty daimiate to the Shogunate. And further to bring all the daimyo to complete submission, he compelled them to live half the year in Yedo, while their wives were kept there throughout the year as hostages. By these and other prudent means the Tokugawa dynasty kept its sway undisputed for two centuries and a half.
Though in time of peace there was no need for a large standing army of bannerets and their retainers in the capital, they were well drilled and kept ready for any emergency. While martial spirit was thus fostered and encouraged among them, they were at the same time guilty of oppression and tyranny over the weak; but not content with trampling on the helpless, they were equally arrogant towards daimyo, however powerful. They were proud of being, as the shogun’s bodyguard, under his special protection; for Iyeyasu, in his testament, had instructed his successors to look after the hatamoto so that none of their families might become extinct. Though inferior in rank and income, they refused to bow to the daimyo, whom they despised as boors and cowards kept in power only by their hereditary possessions, and lost no opportunity of showing their contempt, while their bearing towards the common people was even more marked by high disdain. They would cut down inoffensive citizens with perfect impunity, for permission to kill them they claimed as the samurai’s right. Whatever they regarded as insult, especially to their class, was too often repaid with tenfold vengeance. They formed themselves into bands, and under all circumstances espoused the cause of any of their fellows. Even if he was reprimanded or punished by the authorities, they would voluntarily offer themselves for the same penalty. They vowed to help the weak, especially of their class, at the risk of their own lives, to pursue the strong till they ran them to earth, and to resent every insult whoever the offender might be, though they were willing to spare him if he instantly entreated pardon. Thus, strong in league and eager for brawls, they often forced quarrels in the street and exercised to the full the samurai’s privilege of killing at will any harmless citizen in their bad books.
Such lawless swashbucklers were sure to raise enemies on all sides; and they were ere long kept at bay by the daimyo on the one hand and on the other by such of the common people as had the spirit to resist them. The daimyo were attended by a special class of men whose duty it was to defend their lords against the hatamoto’s sudden assaults, while bands of stout-hearted citizens championed the cause of the common people. The former were known as yakko, while the latter were called machi-yakko, or yakko of the wards; and between them there was an intimate connection. If a daimyo, about to go up to the Castle of Yedo, return to his province, or visit a shrine or temple, required a retinue of yakko to guard him against the hatamoto, he sent word to the machi-yakko, who instantly supplied him with the desired number of followers. Thus the machi-yakko waged war with the hatamoto both directly and by providing the daimyo with his men. It was, therefore, necessary to hold in readiness a large army of adherents; and to keep them always under his eye, he met them nightly at his gambling resorts.
AN “OTOKODATA” OR “MACHI YAKKO.”
The machi-yakko, or otokodate, were distinguished by their dress, queue, and manner of wearing swords. It was their pride to make light of their own lives and to take up another’s quarrel; their self-imposed mission it was to help the weak and always to defend the oppressed citizen from the military class. The distressed never appealed to them in vain; and often in their cause they unflinchingly sacrificed their own lives. Consequently, they enjoyed great popularity among the lower classes. Every townsman attempted to imitate their ways; and their spirit was widely admired by the people. A citizen who fretted under the military domination joined the machi-yakko, under whose leadership he could almost defy the power of the samurai.
The otokodate found their most devoted adherents and imitators among artisans, fishmongers, and workmen. The fishmongers of Tokyo, whose trade makes them very rough, have always held their market on the river-side close to Nihonbashi, a bridge from which all distances on the highways from Tokyo are measured, and are in speech and manners as choice as their brethren of Billingsgate. Their turbulent, dare-devil spirit was recognised by the Feudal Government which found itself so helpless when the Imperial forces approached the city in 1868, that it appealed to these fishmongers to intercept at Nihonbashi the northward advance of the enemy. The fishmongers formed into companies, armed with poles, fish-hooks, and other formidable weapons; but they had unfortunately no opportunity of testing their mettle as the Imperial army remained outside the city, while negotiations were successfully carried on for the surrender of the shogun’s castle.
The firemen are engaged, when there is no fire, in house-building. When the Tokugawa Government made the daimyo reside half the year in Yedo, great mansions were always under construction or repair, and the workmen were kept busy. The men were also in demand among the common people, especially after a fire. The people of Kyoto and Osaka, living as they did by pure trade or hereditary callings, were naturally frugal and did nothing merely for show. The case, however, was different in Yedo. It was a new city; and the people, gaining their livelihood through the luxurious habits of the daimyo, came in time to imitate their extravagance. In this respect, the fireman was among the greatest sinners. He took pride in squandering money, and considered it a shame to let the day’s earnings remain overnight in his purse. Empty show, the keeping up of appearances, was his delight; and nothing was more galling to him than to be outdone by a neighbour in foolish display. It was and is still, for instance, reckoned a luxury to eat the first bonito of the season. And the fireman regarded it worse than dishonour to be prevented by want of means from tasting it, and his wife, sharing her husband’s spirit, would pawn everything, even to the very clothes on her back, to enable him to buy the fish. It was also one of the fireman’s greatest pleasures to pick quarrels, and brawls became a necessary element of his life, almost as essential to his existence as his food. He was also invariably tattooed in gorgeous colours, the beauty of which was his constant boast. As preliminary to a scuffle, he would slip his clothes off his shoulders and make his opponent sick with envy at the sight of his wondrous tattooed figures. He had a peculiar habit of rolling up his tongue and giving a strong trill to his words. His favourite posture was to sit awkwardly, one heel upon the other, with a towel on his shoulder. This towel was an important article with him, for he could not summon sufficient courage for a quarrel unless it was tied tightly round his head, probably to secure his pate from being broken by his enemy’s club. These characteristics of the fireman, which he still retains in a modified degree, also applied more or less to other spirited citizens of Yedo.
Though the Tokugawa Government issued several orders for the suppression of the firemen who were fast growing too rampant and refractory, they were practically allowed to flourish with all their peculiarities as the authorities knew that severe restrictions would lead to their refusal to appear at fires. Many stories are current of the extremes they would resort to in their brawls. The most notorious of these fights was that which took place in 1805, when 381 firemen set upon sixty-three wrestlers in the precincts of a shrine in South Yedo. The daimyo who was ordered to inquire into the case found it both difficult and inexpedient to decide against either party, so that he promised to pronounce judgment after the lapse of fifty thousand fine days.
The assistance firemen give in house-building is not very laborious. Their usual work is the laying of foundations of houses, at which they sing a song in chorus and drop the tup at the end of each verse, that is, at the rate of about once a minute. It appears to be more of a pleasure to them than a task. The leisurely way in which they harden the foundation is in a striking contrast to their energy and agility at fires. If firemen were successful in preventing fires or minimising their ravages, their occupation as workmen might be expected to suffer; but fires appear to be frequent and destructive enough to give them plenty of work. Fires were indeed welcomed as a means of redistribution of wealth.
LAYING THE FOUNDATION.
The fireman was always human, and has been, rightly or wrongly, accused of sometimes facilitating the spread of fires. For this reason, many wards took care by frequent presents to retain his goodwill; and wealthy merchants too gave freely to the heads of companies of firemen whenever a fire broke out in the neighbourhood, in consequence of which these companies did everything in their power to prevent its spreading to the donors’ houses. But these douceurs were, after all, inadequate recompenses for the great risks these men ran at fires, for there were almost always some of them injured, and occasionally a death or two also took place in a fire of fair magnitude.