O this ship of great fishing!
Fifthly,—
Whenever you go to look at the place where the dried fish are kept,1 never do you find any room,—not even a crevice.
O this ship of great fishing!
Sixthly,
From six to six o'clock is cleaning and washing: the great cutting and the small cutting are more than can be done.
O this ship of great fishing!
Seventhly,—
All up and down the famous river Tonégawa we send our loads of oil and fertilizer.
O this ship of great fishing!
Eighthly,—
All the young folk, drawing the Yatai-buné,2 with ten thousand rejoicings, visit the shrine of the God.
O this ship of great fishing!
Ninthly,—
Augustly protecting all this coast, the Deity of the river-mouth shows to us his divine favor.
O this ship of great fishing!
A stranger example of this mnemonic arrangement is furnished by a children's song, composed at least a hundred years ago. Little girls of Yedo used to sing it while playing ball. You can see the same ball-game being played by girls today, in almost any quiet street of Tōkyō. The ball is kept bounding in a nearly perpendicular line by skilful taps of the hand delivered in time to the measure of a song; and a good player should be able to sing the song through without missing a stroke. If she misses, she must yield the ball to another player.1 There are many pretty "ball-play songs;" but this old-fashioned and long-forgotten one is a moral curiosity:—
Hitotsu to ya:—
Hito wa kō na hito to iu;
On wo shiranéba kō naraji.
Futatsu to ya:—
Fuji yori takaki chichi no on;
Tsuné-ni omouté wasuré-naji.
Mitsu to ya:—
Mizu-umi kaetté asashi to wa,
Haha no on zo ya omou-beshi.
Yotsu to ya:—
Yoshiya mazushiku kurasu tomo,
Sugu-naru michi wo maguru-moji.
Itsutsu to ya:—
Itsumo kokoro no kawaranu wo,
Makoto no hito to omou-beshi.
Mutsu to ya:—
Munashiku tsukihi wo kurashi-naba,
Nochi no nagéki to shirinu-beshi.
Nanatsu to ya:—
Nasaki wa hito no tamé narodé,
Waga mi no tamé to omou-beshi.
Yatsu to ya:—
Yaku-nan muryō no wazawai mo
Kokoro zen nara nogaru-beshi.
Kokonotsu to ya:—
Kokoro kotoba no sugu-naraba,
Kami ya Hotoké mo mamoru-beshi.
Tō to ya:—
Tōtoi hito to naru naraba,
Kōkō mono to iwaru-beshi.
This is the first:—
[Only] a person having filial piety is [worthy to be] called a person:1
If one does not know the goodness of parents, one has not filial piety.
The second:—
Higher than the [mountain] Fuji is the favor of a father:
Think of it always;—never forget it.
The third:—
[Compared with a mother's love] the great lake is shallow indeed!
[By this saying] the goodness of a mother should be estimated.
The fourth:—
Even though in poverty we have to pass our days,
Let us never turn aside from the one straight path.
The fifth:—
The person whose heart never changes with time,
A true man or woman that person must be deemed.
The sixth:—
If the time [of the present] be spent in vain,
In the time of the future must sorrow be borne.
The seventh:—
That a kindness done is not for the sake of others only,
But also for one's own sake, should well be kept in mind.
The eighth:—
Even the sorrow of numberless misfortunes
We shall easily escape if the heart be pure.
The ninth:—
If the heart and the speech be kept straight and true,
The Gods and the Buddhas will surely guard us well.
The tenth:—
In order to become a person held in honor,
As a filial person one must [first] be known.
The reader may think to himself, "How terribly exigent the training that could require the repetition of moral lessons even in a 'ball-play song '!" True,—but it produced perhaps the very sweetest type of woman that this world has ever known.
In some dance-songs the burthen is made by the mere repetition of the last line, or of part of the last line, of each stanza. The following queer ballad exemplifies the practice, and is furthermore remarkable by reason of the curious onomatopoetic choruses introduced at certain passages of the recitative:—
KANÉ-MAKI-ODORI UTA
("Bell-wrapping-dance song."—Province of Iga—Naga district)
A Yamabushi of Kyōto went to Kumano. There resting in the inn Chōjaya, by the beach of Shirotaka, he saw a little girl three years old; and he petted and hugged her, playfully promising to make her his wife,—
(Chorus) Playfully promising.
Thereafter that Yamabushi travelled in various provinces; returning only when that girl was thirteen years old. "O my princess, my princess!" he cried to her,—"my little princess, pledged to me by promise!"—"O Sir Yamabushi," made she answer,—"good Sir Yamabushi, take me with you now!—
"Take me with you now!"
"O soon," he said, "I shall come again; soon I shall come again: then, when I come again, I shall take you with me,—
"Take you with me."
Therewith the Yamabushi, escaping from her, quickly, quickly fled away;—with all haste he fled away. Having passed through Tanabé and passed through Minabé, he fled on over the Komatsu moor,—
Over the Komatsu moor.
KAKKARA, KAKKARA, KAKKARA, KAKKA!1
Therewith the damsel, pursuing, quickly, quickly followed after him;—with all speed she followed after him. Having passed through Tanabé and passed through Minabé, she pursued him over the Komatsu moor,—
Over the Komatsu moor.
Then the Yamabushi, fleeing, came as he fled to the river of Amoda, and cried to the boatman of the river of Amoda,—"O good boatman, good sir boatman, behind me comes a maid pursuing!—pray do not take her across, good boatman,—
"Good sir boatman!"
DEBOKU, DEBOKU, DEBOKU, DENDEN!2
Then the damsel, pursuing, came to the river of Amoda and called to the boatman, "Bring hither the boat!—take me over in the boat!"—"No, I will not bring the boat; I will not take you over: my boat is forbidden to carry women!—
"Forbidden to carry women!"
"If you do not take me over, I will cross!—if you do not take me over, I will cross!—there is a way to cross the river of Amoda!" Taking off her sandals and holding them aloft, she entered the water, and at once turned into a dragon with twelve horns fully grown,—
With twelve horns fully grown.
Then the Yamabushi, fleeing, reached the temple Dōjōji. and cried to the priests of the temple Dōjōji:—"O good priests, behind me a damsel comes pursuing!—hide me, I beseech you, good sir priests!—
"Good sir priests!"
Then the priests, after holding consultation, took down from its place the big bell of the temple; and under it they hid him,—
Under it they hid him.
Then the dragon-maid, pursuing, followed him to the temple Dōjōji. For a moment she stood in the gate of the temple: she saw that bell, and viewed it with suspicion. She thought:—"I must wrap myself about it once." She thought:—"I must wrap myself about it twice!" At the third wrapping, the bell was melted, and began to flow like boiling water,—
Like boiling water.
So is told the story of the Wrapping of the Bell. Many damsels dwell by the seashore of Japan;—but who among them, like the da
ughter of the Chōja, will become a dragon?—
Become a dragon?
This is all the Song of the Wrapping of the Bell!—this is all the Song,—
All the song!1
I shall give only one specimen of the true street-ballad,—the kind of ballad commonly sung by wandering samisen-players. It is written in an irregular measure, varying from twelve to sixteen syllables in length; the greater number of lines having thirteen syllables. I do not know the date of its composition; but I am told by aged persons who remember hearing it sung when they were children, that it was popular in the period of Tenpō (1830-1843). It is not divided into stanzas; but there are pauses at irregular intervals,—marked by the refrain, Yanrei!
O-KICHI-SEIZA KUDOKI
("The Ditty of O-Kichi and Seiza")
Now hear the pitiful story of two that died for love.—In Kyōto was the thread-shop of Yoëmon, a merchant known far and near,—a man of much wealth. His business prospered; his life was fortunate. One daughter he had, an only child, by name O-Kichi: at sixteen years she was lovely as a flower. Also he had a clerk in his house, by name Seiza, just in the prime of youth, aged twenty-and-two.
Yanrei!
Now the young man Seiza was handsome; and O-Kichi fell in love with him at sight. And the two were so often together that their secret affection became known; and the matter came to the ears of the parents of O-Kichi; and the parents, hearing of it, felt that such a thing could not be suffered to continue.
Yanrei!
So at last, the mother, having called O-Kichi into a private room, thus spoke to her:—"O my daughter, I hear that you have formed a secret relation with the young man Seiza, of our shop. Are you willing to end that relation at once, and not to think any more about that man, O-Kichi?—answer me, O my daughter."
Yanrei!
"O my dear mother," answered O-Kichi, "what is this that you ask me to do? The closeness of the relation between Seiza and me is the closeness of the relation of the ink to the paper that it penetrates.1 Therefore, whatever may happen, O mother of mine, to separate from Seiza is more than I can bear."
Yanrei!
Then, the father, having called Seiza to the innermost private room, thus spoke to him:—"I called you here only to tell you this: You have turned the mind of our daughter away from what is right; and even to hear of such a matter is not to be borne. Pack up your things at once, and go!—to-day is the utmost limit of the time that you remain in this house."
Yanrei!
Now Seiza was a native of Osaka. Without saying more than "Yes—yes," he obeyed and went away, returning to his home. There he remained four or five days, thinking only of O-Kichi. And because of his longing for her, he fell sick; and as there was no cure and no hope for him, he died.
Yanrei!
Then one night O-Kichi, in a moment of sleep, saw the face of Seiza close to her pillow,—so plainly that she could not tell whether it was real, or only a dream. And rising up, she looked about; but the form of Seiza had vanished.
Yanrei!
Because of this she made up her mind to go at once to the house of Seiza. And, without being seen by any one, she fled from the home of her parents.
Yanrei!
When she came to the ferry at the next village, she did not take the boat, but went round by another road; and making all haste she found her way to the city of Osaka. There she asked for the house of Seiza; and she learned that it was in a certain street, the third house from a certain bridge.
Yanrei!
Arriving at last before the home of Seiza, she took off her travelling hat of straw; and seating herself on the threshold of the entrance, she cried out:—"Pardon me kindly!—is not this the house of Master Seiza?"
Yanrei!
Then—O the pity of it!—she saw the mother of Seiza, weeping bitterly, and holding in her hand a Buddhist rosary. "O my good young lady," the mother of Seiza asked, "whence have you come; and whom do you want to see?"
Yanrei!
And O-Kichi said:—"I am the daughter of the thread-merchant of Kyōto. And I have come all the way here only because of the relation that has long existed between Master Seiza and myself. Therefore, I pray you, kindly permit me to see him."
Yanrei!
"Alas!" made answer the mother, weeping, "Seiza, whom you have come so far to see, is dead. To-day is the seventh day from the day on which he died." . . . Hearing these words, O-Kichi herself could only shed tears.
Yanrei!
But after a little while she took her way to the cemetery. And there she found the sotoba1 erected above the grave of Seiza; and leaning upon it, she wept aloud.
Yanrei!
Then—how fearful a thing is the longing of a person1—the grave of Seiza split asunder; and the form of Seiza rose up therefrom and spoke.
Yanrei!
"Ah! is not this O-Kichi that has come? Kind indeed it was to have come to me from so far away! My O-Kichi, do not weep thus. Never again—even though you weep—can we be united in this world. But as you love me truly, I pray you to set some fragrant flowers before my tomb, and to have a Buddhist service said for me upon the anniversary of my death."
Yanrei!
And with these words the form of Seiza vanished. "O wait, wait for me!" cried O-Kichi,—"wait one little moment!2 I cannot let you return alone!—I shall go with you in a little time!"
Yanrei!
Then quickly she went beyond the temple-gate to a moat some four or five chō1 distant; and having filled her sleeves with small stones, into the deep water she cast her forlorn body.
Yanrei!
And now I shall terminate this brief excursion into unfamiliar song-fields by the citation of two Buddhist pieces. The first is from the famous work Gempei Seisuiki ("Account of the Prosperity and Decline of the Houses of Gen and Hei"), probably composed during the latter part of the twelfth, or at the beginning of the thirteenth century. It is written in the measure called Imayō,—that is to say, in short lines alternately of seven and of five syllables (7, 5; 7, 5; 7, 5, ad libitum). The other philosophical composition is from a collection of songs called Ryūtachi-bushi ("Ryūtachi Airs"), belonging to the sixteenth century:—
I
(Measure, Imayō)
Sama mo kokoro mo
Kawaru kana!
Otsuru namida wa
Taki no mizu:
Myō-hō-rengé no
Iké to nari;
Guzé no funé ni
Sao sashité;
Shizumu waga mi wo
Nosé-tamaë!
Both form and mind—
Lo! how these change!
The falling of tears
Is like the water of a cataract.
Let them become the Pool
Of the Lotos of the Good Law!
Poling thereupon
The Boat of Salvation,
Vouchsafe that my sinking
Body may ride!
II
(Period of Bunrokū—1592-1596)
Who twice shall live his youth?
What flower faded blooms again?
Fugitive as dew
Is the form regretted,
Seen only
In a moment of dream.
Footnotes
1 Chrysophris cardinalis, a kind of sea-bream,—generally esteemed the best of Japanese fishes.
1 It was formerly the custom to shave the heads of boys, leaving only a tuft or lock of hair on either temple. Such a lock was called agémaki, a word also meaning "tassel"; and eventually the term came to signify a boy or lad. In these songs it is used as a term of endearment,—much as an English girl might speak of her sweetheart as "my dear lad," or "my darling boy."
1 Lit., "a Tennin";—that is to say, an inhabitant of the Buddhist heaven. The Tennin are usually represented as beautiful maidens.
1 Miroku Bosatsu (Maitrêya Bodhisattva) is the next great Buddha to come.
1 Japanese popular name for the Chinese version of the Saddhârma Pundarîka Sûtra.—M
any of the old Buddhist scriptures were written upon long scrolls, called makimono,—a name also given to pictures printed upon long rolls of silk or paper.
1 Lit., "hiro." The hiro is a measure of about five feet English, and is used to measure breadth as well as depth.
1 The kirigirisu is a kind of grasshopper with a very musical note. It is very difficult to see it, even when it is singing close by, for its color is exactly the color of the grass. The song alludes to the happy peasant custom of singing while at work in the fields.
1 I am not sure of the real meaning of the name Kaëri-Odori (lit. "turn-dance" or "return-dance").
1 A divided skirt of a peculiar form, worn formerly by men chiefly, to-day worn by female students also.
1 The Manchurian great tit. It is said to bring good fortune to the owners of the garden in which it builds a nest,—providing that the nest be not disturbed and that the brood be protected.
1 Chōshi, a town of some importance, is situated at the mouth of the Tonégawa. It is celebrated for its iwashi-fishery. The iwashi is a fish about the size of the sardine, and is sought chiefly for the sake of its oil. Immense quantities of iwashi are taken off the coast. They are boiled to extract the oil; and the dried residue is sent inland to serve as manure.
1 Ō-yagoë. The chorus-cry or chant of sailors, pulling all together, is called yagoë.
2 Tai-ryō buné, lit.:—"great-fishing," or "great-catching-ship."
3 Perhaps the reference is to a village at the mouth of the river Togawa,—not far from Chōshi on the Tonégawa. The two rivers are united by a canal. But the text leaves it uncertain whether river of village is meant.
1 Hosbika-ba: lit., "the hoshika-place" or "hoshika-room." "Ho-shika" is the name given to dried fish prepared for use as fertilizer.
2 Yatai is the name given to the ornamental cars drawn with ropes In a religious procession. Yatai-buné here seems to mean either the model of a boat mounted upon such a car, or a real boat so displayed in a religious processsion. I have seen real boats mounted upon festival-cars in a religious procession at Mionoséki.
1 This is the more common form of the game; but there are many other forms. Sometimes two girls play at once with the same ball—striking it alternately as it bounds.
1 Lit., "A person having filial piety is called a person." The word hito (person), usually indicating either a man or a woman, is often used in the signification of "people" or "Mankind." The full meaning of the sentence is that no unfilial person deserves to be called a human being.
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