Traditional Japanese Literature

by Haruo Shirane

  But Nobuyori paid no heed and continued on his way.

  “How in the world can such a lazy man possibly manage an entire domain?” thought Tarō. “It isn’t that much trouble to get down and pick up a rice cake. I thought I was the only lazy fellow around, but there must be many of us.”

  “What a heartless lord!” he grumbled aloud, quite provoked.

  Had Nobuyori been a short-tempered man, he would have taken offense, and there is no telling what he might have done. But instead he reined in his horse and asked his retainer, “Is that fellow the notorious Lazy Tarō?”

  “There couldn’t possibly be two of them, sir. That must be him.”

  “You there, how do you make a living?” asked Nobuyori directly.

  “When people give me something, I’ll eat anything at all. When they don’t, I go without for four, five, as many as ten days.”

  “What a sorry plight! You must do something to help yourself! There is a saying that those who rest under the shade of the same tree and who drink of the same water share a karmic connection from a former life. That of all places in the world you were born into my domain must mean there is a bond between us. Cultivate some land and live off that.”

  “But I have no land.”

  “Then I’ll give you some.”

  “I’m too lazy—I don’t want to work.”

  “Then set up a shop.”

  “I have nothing to sell.”

  “Then I’ll give you something.”

  “It’s hard to do something you’re not used to, and I’ve never done it before.”

  “What an odd fellow!” thought Nobuyori. “I must do something to help him out.” Pulling out an inkstone, he wrote the following edict and had it distributed throughout his lands:

  “Lazy Tarō is to be fed daily: three measures of rice twice a day and wine once a day. Those who fail to comply will be expelled from this domain.” Everyone thought this a prime example of the saying, “The unreasonableness of a lord’s decree,” but for three years they fed Tarō as ordered.

  At the end of spring of the third year, Arisue, Governor of Shinano and Major Counselor of Nijō, ordered the village of Atarashi to supply a laborer to work in the capital. All the villagers gathered together to decide which household should provide the laborer. It had been such a long time since this sort of demand had been imposed that they were at a loss about what to do.

  Then someone suggested, “How about sending Lazy Tarō?”

  Another objected, “That’s ridiculous! He’s so lazy he wouldn’t even pick up a rice cake lying in the road—he waited for the Steward to pass by and asked him to get it!”

  “Convincing someone like Tarō to do it just might be the answer. Come on, let’s give it a try,” said another. So four or five elders got together and went to Tarō’s hovel.

  “Hey there, Lord Lazy Bones! Please help us out! It’s our turn to send a man for public labor.”

  “What’s that?” asked Tarō.

  “We have to find a laborer—sort of like a longshoreman.”

  “How long is that? It must be awfully big!”177

  “No, no! It’s nothing like that! A laborer is someone we send from among the villagers to go serve in the capital. You should go out of gratitude to us for having fed you for three years.”

  “That’s not something you cooked up yourselves, is it? I’ll bet the Steward put you up to this.” Tarō was not at all inclined to go.

  “Look at it this way: it’s for your own good,” said one of them. “I mean, a fellow becomes a man when he takes a wife, and a girl becomes a woman when she has a husband. So, rather than live all alone in this broken-down shack, why don’t you start making plans to be a responsible adult? You know, they say that there are three times in a man’s life when he comes into his own: when he first wears adult trousers,178 when he holds a job, and when he takes a wife. And you grow up even more when you travel. Country folks have no sense of human warmth, but city folks do. In the capital, no one is despised, and fine-looking people will live with anyone as husband and wife. So why don’t you take off to the capital, get together with a woman who suits your fancy, and make a man of yourself?” he urged, presenting a fine array of arguments.

  “Fine with me! If that’s the case, then please send me there as soon as possible!” said Lazy Tarō. He was ready to depart immediately. The delighted villagers got together some traveling money and sent him off.

  Lazy Tarō went along the Tōsen road, and, as he passed through each successive way station, he showed not a trace of laziness. On the seventh day, he arrived in the capital. “I’m the laborer come from Shinano,” he announced proudly.

  Everyone stared at him and laughed. “Can such a grimy, filthy creature possibly exist in this world?” they snickered among themselves. But the Major Counselor took him on. “It matters not how he looks,” he said. “As long as he’s a hard worker, he’ll be fine.”

  Kyoto far surpassed anything Tarō had ever seen in Shinano. The mountains to the east and west, the palaces, temples, and shrines—everything was endlessly fascinating. Tarō was not lazy in the least; indeed, never had there been a more diligent worker than he. They kept him seven months, although he was obliged to serve only three. Finally, in the eleventh month, he was released from duty and decided to return home.

  Tarō went to his lodgings to contemplate his situation. He had been told to bring back a good wife; the prospect of returning home all alone was too bleak. Wondering how he might find a wife, he approached his landlord for advice.

  “I’m going back to Shinano. If you can, would you please find a woman willing to be the wife of a man like me?”

  The landlord laughed and thought to himself, “I’d like to see any woman who would marry the likes of you!” But aloud he replied, “It’s easy enough to ask around and find a woman, but marriage is quite another matter. What you really want is a streetwalker.”

  “What’s a streetwalker? What do you mean by that?”

  “Someone without a husband, who meets you for money—that’s a streetwalker.”

  “Well, then, please find one for me. I have some money for my trip, some twelve or thirteen mon. Please use it for her.”

  The landlord thought that he had never met a bigger fool. “If you want one, you’ll have to go out and cruise around.”

  “Cruise around? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That’s when you look at all the women who don’t have men with them and who aren’t riding in carriages, and then you pick out a nice-looking one who catches your fancy. It’s all right—you’re allowed to do it.”

  “If that’s the case, then I’ll give it a try.”

  Tarō set out to try his luck at Kiyomizu Temple on the eighteenth of the Eleventh Month,179 just as his landlord had suggested. He was dressed in the same rags he had long worn even in Shinano: a rough hempen singlet, so ancient that the color and pattern were indistinguishable, a straw rope wrapped around his waist, a pair of old frayed scuffs on his feet, and a bamboo staff in his hand. It was late in the year, and the bitter winds were so fierce that Tarō’s nose ran. He looked like a sooty stupa as he waited by the main gate, standing rigidly with his arms outstretched. The returning worshipers thought him a frightful sight. Whatever could he be waiting for? All took care to avoid him, and not a single person ventured near. Groups of women ranging in age from seventeen to twenty surged by, but not one spared him a glance. Thousands of people must have passed as he stood there vacillating from dawn to dusk, rejecting one woman after another.

  Then a young lady emerged. She might have been seventeen or eighteen years old, a veritable blossom of spring. With her raven locks and lovely midnight blue eyebrows, she looked just like a mountain cherry in bloom. Her sidelocks curved as gracefully as the wings of an autumn cicada; she was blessed with the beauty of the myriad marks of the angels and was as radiant as a golden buddha.180 Her charm extended from her arching eyebrows right down to the hem of her ro
bes, which danced with every step she took. She wore a crimson skirt over her gaily-colored robe and light, unlined sandals on her feet. The scent of plum blossoms rose from her hair, which was longer than she was tall. She had come to worship at the temple, accompanied by a maidservant almost as pretty as she was. To Lazy Tarō, here indeed had come his bride. He waited eagerly, arms outstretched, ready to embrace and kiss her. The lady caught sight of him and leaned over to her maid.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “It’s a person,” came the reply.

  “How dreadful! How can I avoid him?” she thought in a panic, hastily taking another path.

  “Oh, no!” thought Tarō. “She’s heading that way! I have to catch up with her!” He went up to her with open arms and poked his dirty head under her lovely sedge hat. Bringing his face up to hers, he cried, “Hey, lady!” and threw his arms around her. Taken by surprise, she was speechless with confusion. People in the bustling crowd cried out, “How terrible! Isn’t it frightful?” but everyone was careful to give them a wide berth.

  Tarō held on tightly. “Hey, lady! It’s been a long time! I’ve seen you all over the place—at Ōhara, Seryū and Shizuhara, Kōdō, Kawasaki, and Nakayama, Chōrakuji, Kiyomizu, Rokuhara, and Rokkakudō, Hōrinji, Saga, Daigo, Uzumasa, Kobata, Kurusu, Yahata, Yodo, Kuramadera, Sumiyoshi, Gojō Tenjin, Kibune Myōjin, Hiyoshi Sannō, Kitano, Gion, Kasuga, Kamo181—what do you think? Huh? Huh?”

  At this, the lady decided that he was just another country bumpkin whose landlord had told him to go out cruising around. She could outwit someone like that.

  “Is that so?” she said coolly. “There are so many people looking on now; why don’t you come visit me at my home?”

  “Where do you live?” he asked.

  The lady assumed that she could confuse him with some fancy phrases and make her escape while he was puzzling them out. “I live in a place called Underpine,” she replied.

  “Oh, I see. Under a pine torch is bright, so you must live at Brightstone Bay.”182

  She was taken aback. Well, he might understand that, but he certainly wouldn’t be able to guess another. “It’s in a village where the sun sets.”

  “Ah, a village where the sun sets. I can guess that one, too. It must be deep in Dark Mountain.183 Whereabouts?”

  “That indeed is my home. You must look for Lampwick Lane.”

  “Tallow Lane?184 Whereabouts?”

  “That indeed is my home. It is a shy village.”

  “Hidden Village?185 Whereabouts?”

  “That indeed is my home. It is a village of cloaks.”

  “Brocade Lane?186 Whereabouts?”

  “That indeed is my home. It is in a land of solace.”

  “Love-Tryst Province?187 Whereabouts?”

  “At an unclouded village of cosmetics.” …

  As long as he was responding like this, there was no way for the lady to escape. Perhaps she could recite some poetry and flee while he was working it out. Taking her cue from his bamboo stick, she recited:

  Rather hard to join with the man I see

  carrying a staff of many-jointed bamboo.188

  “Oh, dear!” thought Tarō. “The lady’s saying that she doesn’t want to sleep with me.” And he replied:

  Each and every stalk is nightly linked together.

  Why, then, can there be no joining with this bamboo bough?189

  “Oh, no!” thought the lady. “This man is saying that he wants to sleep with me! But his poetic sensitivity does make him much more refined than he looks.” And she said:

  Loosen your net! The eyes are fixed too tightly.

  Release your hand, then we shall speak.190

  Tarō understood that she was asking him to let her go and wondered what to do. So he responded:

  So what if the network of eyes is fixed on you?

  Let me kiss you, then my hand will loosen.

  At this, the lady realized that poetic repartee was getting her nowhere. And so she recited:

  If you love me, then call on me.

  Mine is the house with the orange-blossom gate.191

  As Tarō took note of her words, he gradually allowed his grip to relax. She shook herself free and dashed off, leaving her sedge hat, cloak, sandals, and servant behind. Tarō was devastated at the disappearance of his lady love. He grabbed his staff, called out, “Lady, where are you going?” and took off in pursuit.

  The lady was familiar with the streets, and, sure that this was her last chance, made her getaway by crisscrossing back and forth, through this alley and around that corner, like a cherry petal scattering in the spring wind.

  “Hey, where are you going, sweetie?” Tarō called out again. He headed down an alley so as to meet up with her at the next corner, but somehow lost track of her. Retracing his steps, he found nothing, and passersby all denied having seen her. Finally, he returned to his post at Kiyomizu. “Now,” he told himself, “she was standing facing this way, then she turned that way, said such and such … oh, wherever did she go?”

  His burning love seemed to be hopeless until he suddenly remembered that she had spoken of an orange-blossom gate. He would have to find out where that was. So he wrapped a piece of paper around his stick192 and went into a soldiers’ guard post.

  “I’m up from the country and have forgotten an address. It’s a place called Orange-Blossom Gate, or something like that. Where might that be?”

  “Seems that there’s a place by that name back of Seventh Avenue, at the residence of the Lord Governor of Buzen. Go down this lane and ask there,” he was told.

  And indeed it was the place. Tarō felt as if he had already found his lady, and he was filled with joy. Here people were absorbed in all sorts of amusements: polo, chess, sugoroku, music, and song. Tarō searched everywhere in vain for his beloved. Hoping that she might yet emerge, he concealed himself beneath a veranda and waited.

  Here, the lady was known as Jijū no Tsubone.193 Late that night, she returned to her quarters after serving at the Governor’s court. She stood in the outer corridor and called to her maid, Nadeshiko.

  “Hasn’t the moon risen yet? I wonder what happened to that man from Kiyomizu? If it had been this dark when I ran into him, it would have been the end of me.”

  “How detestable he was!” replied Nadeshiko. “He couldn’t possibly come here! But do be careful—speak of the devil, and he’s sure to appear, you know!”

  Lazy Tarō was listening from under the veranda. Here was his bride! In his joy that their bond had not been severed, he pranced out and leaped up beside her. “Hey, lady! I’ve been pretty worried about you, sweetie! Darned near broke my neck trying to find you!”

  The lady was utterly aghast. She scrambled behind her screen to escape and remained there in a state of shock, her face as vacant as the sky above. Presently, she moaned to her maid, “How dreadfully tenacious he is! He’s actually here! Of all the men in the world, that such a dirty, disgusting creature should fall in love with me! How awful!”

  Just then a company of watchmen came by. “Have you seen a stranger around?” they asked. “The dogs are in an uproar!”

  “Oh, no!” she thought, “What if they kill him? As a woman, my sins are already deep enough, what with the Five Hindrances and Three Duties.”194 She wept bitter tears. What harm could there be in putting him up for the night, then slipping him out at dawn? She told the maid to put out an old mat for him to sit on. So the maid went to Tarō and informed him that he could remain until dawn, when he must leave quietly, taking care that no one saw him. She spread out a mat trimmed with elaborately patterned edging, the likes of which Tarō had never seen, and bade him sit on it.

  Lazy Tarō was quite exhausted from all the running around he had done that day. He hoped that they would bring him something—anything—soon. What might it be? If it were chestnuts, he would first roast, then eat them; if persimmons, pears, or rice cakes, he would gobble them down right away. If they gave him wine, he would drink almo
st twenty cups of it. As he was sitting there musing expectantly, the maid brought out a knife, salt, and a rough-edged basket filled with chestnuts, persimmons, and pears.

  “Darn it,” said Tarō to himself. “In spite of her fine looks, she’s treating me like a horse or an ox, giving me this fruit all jumbled together in a basket without setting it out nicely on a lid or paper. It’s too much! There must be something more to it. Let’s see: she gave me the fruit all together, so that must mean that she wants to get together with me. And the chestnuts mean that she won’t repeat the nutty things she said before,195 the pears that she wishes to be paired only with me.196 But what about the persimmons and salt? Well, I can use them together in a poem:

  Since this is the fruit of Naniwa Bay in Tsu,

  it has crossed no seas but is well pickled in salt.197

  The lady overheard this and marveled at his exceptional sensitivity. Here indeed was an example of the proverbial “lotus blooming from the mire” and “gold wrapped in straw.” “Here, take this,” she said, passing him some ten sheets of paper. Tarō wondered at this, but concluded that, although she had written no message, she must want him to write a response. And so he composed:

  You give me mighty divine paper for my use.

  Could this mean that you think me a sacred shrine?198

  “I can’t hold out any longer!” she cried. “Bring him in!” She gathered together a pair of wide trousers, a robe, a court hat, and a sword for him to wear.

  Delighted at this happy turn of events, Tarō Hijikasu wrapped his old hand-me-downs around his staff. She probably meant to lend him the new attire just for the night, and he would need his old rags again in the morning.

  “Dogs, don’t you dare eat these! Thieves, don’t you dare steal these!” he thought, tossing the bundle under the veranda. Then, confronted with the problem of putting on the trousers and robe, he looped the ties around his neck and draped the pants over his shoulders, such that the maid was obliged to help him out of his predicament. As she was about to put the court hat on his head, she saw that his hair was such a tangle of dirt, fleas, and lice that it looked as if it had never known a comb. But somehow she managed to straighten it out, perched the hat on his head, and led him inside.