Five Women Who Loved Love

by Ihara Saikaku

  “There is nothing so calamitous as to bring a girl-child into the world. I have been thinking that it would be a good idea to become a novice at the Fudo Chapel of Kitano next New Year’s and eventually become a nun.”

  “Very good idea,” the crone answered sleepily. “Better than to live on in a world full of disappointments.”

  Thus the two men stood in each other’s way the whole night through. The upshot of their bedtime activities was only this: that Kyushichi, who started the evening with his pillow to the west, wriggled around and wound up with his head to the south and his underclothing missing—a shocking piece of carelessness for a pilgrim with money in his waistband; while the cooper slept with a resentful scowl on his face, a wad of tissue paper in his hand, and a clamshell full of clove oil14 beside him.

  The next morning at Mt. Osaka they hired an Otsu man’s horse and proceeded on their journey with Osen riding in the middle and the men mounted on either side of her. Funny though an onlooker would have found this arrangement, there was something, whether fatigue or simply pleasure, which made the riders oblivious to their absurdity. On one side Kyushichi fondled Osen’s toes; on the other the cooper reached up and put his arm around her waist; and each playfully indulged his secret desires as best he could in a manner that seems somewhat amusing to anyone who knows what each was after.

  None of the group had any real interest in the pilgrimage itself. At Ise they failed to visit the Inner Shrine or the sacred beach at which homage is paid to the Sun, stopping only at the Outer Shrine for a few minutes and purchasing as their only souvenirs a purification broach and some seaweed.

  On the way back the two men kept their eyes on each other, so nothing of consequence happened. When they reached the capital, Kyoto, and Kyushichi had guided them to the hotel he knew, the cooper reckoned in his head what he owed Kyushichi for bills the latter had paid, thanked him for his trouble, and took his leave with a bow. Thinking that he would henceforth have Osen to himself, Kyushichi went out and bought many presents and souvenirs for her. He could hardly wait for night to fall, but decided to while away the time visiting someone he knew in the neighborhood of Karasumaru.

  On one side Kyushichi fondled Osen’s toes; on the other the cooper reached up and put his arm around her waist; and each playfully indulged his secret desires as best he could in a manner that seems somewhat amusing. . . .

  None of the group had any real interest in the pilgrimage itself. At Ise they failed to visit the Inner Shrine or the sacred beach . . . stopping only at the Outer Shrine for a few minutes. . . .

  In the meantime old Nanny left the hotel with Osen, ostensibly to visit Kiyomizu Temple. They went directly to Gion-machi, to a little shop which sold box lunches, and there found a card upon which was written “Gimlet and Saw.” Recognizing this as the cooper’s way of identifying himself, Osen slipped inside almost unnoticeably. Upstairs she found her lover, and together they drank the cup of betrothal, pledging themselves to each other forever.

  Thereupon old Nanny retired downstairs. “The water here is simply delicious,” she exclaimed as she guzzled cups of tea one after another.

  Having won from Osen the first installment on their marriage, the cooper left early for Osaka by day boat. Old Nanny and Osen, upon their return to the hotel, gave notice of immediate departure. Kyushichi pleaded with them to stay for a few more days of sightseeing, but the old woman was determined.

  “No, no. What would your mistress say if she thought Osen was chasing around with men?” So off they started.

  “I know it’s a lot to ask, but this bundle is so heavy. Won’t you help us with it, Kyushichi?”

  “My back aches. Sorry,” he replied.

  And when they stopped to rest in a wisteria grove before the Great Buddha of Inari, the women had to pay for their own tea.

  4. Shingles kindle a fire in the heart, and so in the hearth

  “If you had told us you wanted to go on a pilgrimage, we would have sent you in a litter or on hired horseback. But to make a secret pilgrimage in the fantastic way you did, and come back with all these presents bought by lord knows whom—why, it’s—it’s just the sort of thing one never does, not even married couples. And traveling to the capital together, drinking and sleeping together—who would dare go that far?

  “Osen is just a woman, and it may be too much to expect that she could resist the urgings of Kyushichi. But Kyushichi, the smart aleck, thinks he must teach the innocent gods what manliness is, and teach this innocent girl . . .”

  Their mistress was in a frightful rage. Kyushichi’s explanations had no effect on her at all, and the poor, guiltless fellow was finally discharged, without waiting for the regular biannual replacement time of September fifth. Later he worked several terms in a wholesale house called Bizen-ya in Kitano and married a drifter15 named Longie of Eighthbridge. Now he earns a living as a sushi16 vendor on Willow Lane and has simply forgotten about Osen.

  Osen went back to the uneventful routine of household duties, but she was unable to forget her brief romance with the cooper or get him out of her mind. She began to neglect herself, becoming shabby in appearance, careless in conduct, and little by little more gaunt and pale. Finally, losing control of herself, Osen started to wail throughout the night like a sick hen.

  About the same time a series of further misfortunes overtook the household. The great cauldron rusted so that its bottom fell out; there was a sudden change between breakfast and supper in the taste of the prepared bean-paste; and lightning struck the roof of the storehouse, setting fire to the shingles. All of these things had a perfectly natural explanation, but people felt that in this case they had some special significance. Someone said: “It is the implacable spirit of the man who is madly in love with Osen—the cooper.”

  When her master and mistress heard this, they decided to do everything in their power to bring Osen and the cooper together in wedlock. Nanny was called in for a consultation.

  “Osen,” the old crone said craftily, “has told me several times that she would not have a hand laborer for a husband, and she isn’t sure whether or not the cooper will do. But it seems to me that she is being unnecessarily choosy. If, in spite of all, they can just get along in life together, she should be satisfied.”

  Having heard old Nanny’s ideas on the subject, Osen’s employers sent for the cooper and concluded a marriage contract with him. Soon afterward, Osen had her sleeves sewn up and her teeth blackened in preparation for the marriage, an auspicious date for which had already been chosen. Her dowry consisted of twenty-three items, including a second-grade chest with a natural finish, a wicker hamper for her trousseau, a folding pasteboard box, two castoff gowns from her mistress, quilted bedclothes, a mosquito net with red lining, and a scarf of classic colors. With all of these, more than a pound of silver was sent to the cooper’s house.

  The newlyweds proved quite compatible and their luck was good. Honest and industrious, the husband kept his head bent assiduously over the work of his craft, while his good wife took up weaving striped cloth of dark-dyed Fushikane thread. Night and day they worked and never failed to meet their debts on the last day of the year or the day before the Bon Festival. Osen took especially good care of the cooper. In winter, on windy days or when it snowed, she carefully covered his rice to keep it warm when he took it out. In summer she kept a fan close to her pillow to cool him with. When he was out of the house she locked the gate and never looked at another man. If she had occasion to speak of anything, it was always “my husband this, my husband that.” Even when, after several years and months, she bore two children, Osen did not forsake her husband for them.

  Soon afterward, Osen had her sleeves sewn up and her teeth blackened in preparation for the marriage, an auspicious date for which had already been chosen. Her dowry consisted of twenty-three items. . . .

  Alas, however, most women are fickle creatures. Captivated by some delicious love story, or deluded by the latest dramatic productions of Dotom-bori
17 their souls are caught up in giddy corruption. Amidst the falling cherry blossoms of the Temple of the Heavenly Kings or under a blooming wisteria trellis, they fall head over heels in love with some handsome fellow. And so, upon returning home, they find loathsome the man who has supported them for many long years.

  There is no greater folly than this. From the moment of their seduction such women abandon all prudence and frugality, light great fires in their ovens and leave them untended, burn lamps thoughtlessly where no lamp is needed, and while their family fortunes dwindle, wait impatiently for leisure hours to spend away from home. Such marriages are dreadful indeed.

  And should their husbands die, in seven days these women are out looking for other husbands. Divorced once, they marry and divorce again, six or seven times. That, unfortunately, is what the morals of the lower classes have sunk to, but this sort of thing, of course, never ever happens among the upper classes. A woman should give herself to only one man during her lifetime. If trouble arises or misfortune strikes, even when she is young, it is quite possible for her to become a nun in the Convent of Kaga or in the Hokkeji Nunnery of the Southern Capital, for this has been done many times before.

  There are many others in the Fleeting World who live in sin with secret lovers, but when they are discovered, either their husbands send them home without taking the matter to court, for fear of creating a sensation, or, in the case of husbands greedy for gold, some kind of deal is made and the matter dropped. Thus sinful women are spared through laxity in punishment, and for this reason adultery cannot be stamped out.

  But there are gods and there is retribution. Every secret will be made known. How much to be dreaded—this ruinous road!

  5. Life is shorter than a toothpick made from woodshavings

  This is to announce an informal supper party to be held at my home on the sixteenth next. I should greatly appreciate having the honor of your company.

  P.S. Guests not listed in order of local prominence.18

  Chozaemon, the yeast maker, found the years and months passing as if life were only a dream. Already it was fifty years since his father died, and he had reason to congratulate himself on living long enough to celebrate such an anniversary. According to the ancients: “When one goes into mourning on the fiftieth anniversary of his father’s death, it is customary to abstain from meat in the morning, but eat fish for supper and drink and sing throughout the evening, having thereafter no further obligations to perform.” Since these were to be the last services, Chozaemon did not begrudge a little expense in conducting them properly. The wives of the neighborhood joined in the preparations. They got out the wooden bowls, trays, crockery, and different kinds of wooden plates used only on special occasions, dusted them, and set them on the sideboard.

  It happened that the cooper’s wife was on friendly terms with these people, so she too dropped in to offer her services. “Isn’t there some work to be done in the kitchen?”

  Osen was known as an intelligent and capable person, and they gave her a delicate job. “There are some sweets in the bedroom. Set them out on the deep trays.”

  Osen began her job of arranging the imperial persimmons, Chinese walnuts, falling-goose candies, and toothpicks of kaya and cryptomeria wood. When she was almost finished, Master Chozaemon came in to fetch a nest of bowls from the shelf, but in doing so he clumsily dropped one on Osen’s head so that her hairdo came apart all at once. He apologized profusely.

  “Oh, it didn’t hurt at all,” Osen assured him as she hastily tied up her hair and went into the kitchen.

  When the lady of the house saw her, however, she was immediately aroused. “Until a few minutes ago your hair was done up most beautifully. How could it become disarranged so suddenly?”

  Osen, with a clear conscience, replied calmly: “The master was taking some bowls down from the shelf and one fell on me. That’s how it happened.”

  But the lady would not believe her at all. “Indeed! A bowl falling off the shelf in broad daylight! What a playful bowl that must be. If you ask me, somebody fell into bed without going to sleep and her hair came undone. Of all things for an older man to be doing, when he is supposed to be mourning for his father!”

  In a violent rage, she picked up some slices of fresh fish, which had been cut and arranged with much care, and began throwing them about the kitchen. No matter what anyone else talked of during the day, vinegar or flour or anything, she would drag in the subject of Osen and not let it drop, to the complete disgust of all who heard about the incident later. Truly it is the greatest of misfortunes for a man to have a wife of such fierce jealousy.

  At first Osen put up patiently with the lady’s ranting, though she could not help being annoyed by it. Later, the more she thought about it the more bitter and depressed Osen became. “My sleeve is already wet with tears. Having suffered the shame, there is nothing left to lose. I shall make love to Chozaemon and teach that woman a lesson.” And, dwelling upon this idea, she aroused in herself a passion for Chozaemon which soon resulted in a secret exchange of promises between the two. They waited only for a suitable occasion to fulfill their desires.

  “. . . If you ask me somebody fell into bed without going to sleep and her hair came undone. Of all things for an older man to be doing, when he is supposed to be mourning for his father!”. . .

  The evening of January twenty-second, in the second year of Tokyo (1685), seemed a propitious one for lovers since the women and children of the neighborhood were amusing themselves at the traditional spring pastime of drawing strings for prizes. On into the night they played, completely absorbed in the game. Some lost and quit, others won and kept on with insatiable enthusiasm. Still others dozed off and started to snore. The cooper turned down his lamp and went to bed early, apparently so tired from the day’s toil that he would not have awakened even if someone had pinched his nose.

  Chozaemon followed Osen home from the party. “Now is the time to fulfill our mutual promise,” he urged, and Osen, unable to refuse him, took Chozaemon into her house.

  Then began what was to be their first and last attempt at love-making.

  No sooner had they removed their underclothes than the cooper awoke. “Hold on! If I catch you, I’ll never let you go!” he shouted.

  Chozaemon quickly threw off the bedcovers. Naked and terrified, he dashed out and ran a great distance to the house of a close relative, barely escaping with his life.

  Osen, realizing that it was a hopeless situation for her, plunged the blade of a carpenter’s plane into her heart and died. Her corpse was exposed in the Shame Field with that of the scoundrel Chozaemon when he was at last executed. Their names, known in countless ballads and songs, spread to distant provinces with the warning: This is a stern world and sin never goes unpunished.

  Footnotes

  1 To put a curse or cast a spell upon someone an effigy of seaweed with a needle through it was stuck to a tree or cast into a well.

  2 A Shinto shrine frequented by homosexual prostitutes.

  3 Quarter known for its female prostitutes.

  4 A long ballad in which one tune was repeated over and over.

  5 Donen-bushi—a type of ballad made popular by Donen Ganzaburo of Kyoto during the Jokyo era (1684–88).

  6 Literally, “a woman is something only as long she is young.”

  7 The language used is that associated with a Buddhist belief concerning human passions, according to which obsessions of the soul (shushin) will, if unsatisfied or unrelieved during a person’s lifetime, return after death to wreak vengeance upon the object of that passion.

  8 Fabulous being represented with wings and an extremely long nose.

  9 While both husband and wife were alive they slept with their pillows at the southern end of the bed. Widows and widowers placed their pillows to the north as a sign of mourning.

  10 On this night a vigil was kept in honor of the God of Plenty and continence was to be observed until midnight. Children conceived at this tim əwere th
ought to become criminals.

  11 It was a popular custom to make the pilgrimage to Ise without the knowledge of one’s parents or master. When the pilgrim returned he was supposed to be forgiven, not censured for his act.

  12 Names used by high-class prostitutes in the licensed quarters of Kyoto and Osaka respectively.

  13 An item of priestly vestments sometimes carried by lay devotees.

  14 Used like toilet water.

  15 Literally, “lotus-leaf woman”—a prostitute hired by a business organization to entertain traveling merchants. She floated, like a lotus leaf on the water, from one man to another.

  16 Cakes of cold, cooked rice topped with eggs, fish, etc.

  17 Theatre section of Osaka.

  18 The same invitation was sent to all guests. Frequently their names were listed in order of prominence, but this formality could be dispensed with by adding the above note.

  Book Three

  What the Seasons

  Brought the

  Almanac Maker

  1. The beauty contest

  According to the calendar for the second year of Tenwa (1682), New Year’s Day was to be devoted to the practice of calligraphy. Then, having started the year auspiciously, men could start making love on January second. Since the Age of the Gods love-making has been taught men by the wagtail bird1 and ever since those days it has caused endless mischief between the sexes.

  In Kyoto lived a lady known as the Almanac-Maker’s Beautiful Spouse, who stirred up a mountain of passion in the capital and figured again and again in notorious romances. Her moon-shaped eyebrows rivaled in beauty the crescent borne aloft during the Gion Festival parade; her figure suggested the cherry buds, not yet blossoms, of Kiyomizu; and her lovely lips looked like the topmost leaves of the maples at Takao in their full autumnal glory. She lived in Muro-machi-dori, the style center for women of discriminating taste in clothes, the most fashionable district in all Kyoto.