The newly-risen bourgeoisie knew very well what was the source of their power, why they could have an overwhelming influence in the world though lacking either family lineage to boast of or any military power to rely on. The secret of their power was money and nothing else. With money they were everything; without ‘it they were nothing. So they clung to money desperately. How to increase it, however foul or dangerous the means might be, was the greatest concern that occupied their thoughts day and night. One of them was reluctant to walk fast, even on an emergency call to express sympathy after a fire: he feared he would work up an appetite and have to eat too much, which would mean a waste of money. Another, who was a tea-dealer, adulterated new tea leaves with used ones. All these strugglings of men that centered around money Saikaku described with a very realistic touch.
Despite all these frantic efforts, however, not every body could become rich. On the contrary, nine persons out of ten were destined to be failures. Especially was this true when the market was established and its shares were divided definitely, once for all, among existing merchant princes; there was then little room left for any empty-handed adventurer to aspire to wealth. Saikaku rightly wrote in Saikaku’s Last Fabrics, published in 1694, the year after his death: “Contrary to former times, this is an age in which money begets money. Today it is the man of common ability with capital, rather than the man of rare ability with no capital, who gains profit.” Indeed, in the train of a handful of shining successes there were always a host of failures groping aimlessly in the dark. And for such a realistic writer as Saikaku it was all but impossible not to pick them up in the spotlight of his works. Thus during the last stage of his career he produced a series of masterworks in which the main characters were the petty misers and failures of the world, and This Scheming World (Seken Munasanyo), published in 1692, is one such masterwork.
In structure This Scheming World is one of the most consolidated of all his works. Most of the stories are told as incidents or episodes relating to New Year’s Eve, when in those days it was the custom to balance all debits and credits for the year. On this particular day of the year, the drama of life came to a climax: there were tragedies, comedies, farces and other human incidents that could not be classified into any of the regular categories of stage-plays. The players were of the nameless masses. They were not in the least aware that they were involved in a drama; they were so intent on tiding over this day of days that they were all the more pathetic for it. And Saikaku portrayed them with so life-like a touch that even though three centuries have already passed since the days of Saikaku, it seems as if they were our contemporaries.
Modern readers, especially European and American readers, who are accustomed to reading works written strictly according to the pattern of modern short stories, may criticize Saikaku as lacking ‘system.’ It is true that he lacks system in the modern sense of the word. But then it must be taken into consideration that he was a writer of the 17th century, when even in Europe the pattern of short stories had not yet settled down. In a sense Saikaku’s stories resemble the random chats of a worldly-wise man. Now he talks of this, then he talks of that. His talk lacks ‘consistency.’ Nevertheless we can picture from his description ‘real men of flesh and blood characterized by common human weaknesses and frailties.
Had he lived longer, Saikaku might have written more works on the life of the masses, but unfortunately even as he wrote This Scheming World his health was already declining, and one year after its publication, in 1693, he died. He left us a short farewell poem, composed perhaps on his deathbed, the gist of which is:
“The span of human life is destined to be fifty years, which is rather too long for a man such as I. Nevertheless I was allowed to enjoy the sight of the moon of this world for two more years.”
His tomb may be found in the Seiganji Temple, Osaka.
THIS SCHEMING WORLD
THE EXTRAVAGANT WIVES OF WHOLESALERS
IT IS the way of the world that on New Year’s Eve the night is dark. Ever since the remote ages of the gods people have been clearly aware of this truth; yet they are always neglecting their business. Much to their embarrassment, they frequently find the result of their previous calculations to be all too short to tide the over the year end. This is due entirely to their ill-advised way of living.
The year end is more precious than a mint of money. It is the Great Divide between winter and spring, which none can pass over without paying a heavy toll. It is too high to be climbed by those who labor under a load of debt, which commonly results from their fond wish to provide for their children according to their means. Each separate expenditure amounts to little or nothing at the time, but the sum total for the year is quite overwhelming. The toy bow and arrow will soon be thrown into the dust bin, and even the ball of thread quickly becomes threadbare. The toy mortar used for the Dolls’ Festival will be broken and the gilded sword of iris will soon fade. The drum used in the Obon dance will be split with too much beating, while the toy sparrows of Hassaku, together with the twigs from which they are suspended, will be cast aside. Furthermore, in observance of the second day of the. Boar, rice cakes must be prepared, as well as dumplings for the festival of the community god. Then on December 1st coppers must be offered to exorcise the devils, and a talisman bought to neutralize the effects of ominous dreams. All these and other such things cost money, and they pile up in such abundance that no treasure boat nor single cart could hold them all.
In recent years, moreover, almost all housewives have waxed extravagant. Although not in the least short of kimono, they have to have another one of the very latest fashion for the New Year. It must be made as elaborately as possible: of silk that costs forty-five momme of silver per half hiki; dyed a thousand delicate tints and hues, with as many varied and intricate designs; and costing, possibly, a ryo of gold. In this way money is squandered on what does not really attract much attention. The obi must be of genuine imported satin, twelve feet long and two feet wide. Why not try wearing a girdle of two pieces of silver wound around the waist? The hair comb may cost two ryo of gold, but wouldn’t a woman balancing three koku of rice on top of her head attract more attention? The petticoats must be made of crimson silk, worn in duplicate, and white tabi are de rigueur.
In olden times, even the ladies of the mightiest lords were strangers to any such luxury. If these modern wives of merchants would only pause a moment to consider, they would realize that divine retribution is bound to fall upon them. It may be excusable to some extent for a woman of means to indulge in such extravagancies. However, if her merchant husband is in debt up to his ears, with interest breeding continually, day and night, rain or shine, it is not a burden to be shrugged off lightly.
Rather should the wife be ore prudent, and be thoroughly ashamed of herself for indulging in such luxuries. Is it barely possible that she is laying in a supply of expensive stuff against the day when her husband, who may be even now teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, will be completely ruined? After all, women’s possessions are exempt from attachment: maybe the wife means to pawn the goods to raise money. However, generally speaking, a woman is so shallow pated that even on the very eve of her husband’s bankruptcy she will fare forth in a sedan chair, attended by two men each bearing a lantern, a quite superfluous accessory in the moonlight. Her actions are as vain and futile as wearing rich brocade in the dark, or as silly as pouring cold water into hot after you’ve taken the trouble to boil it.
From his place of enshrinement within the household altar, the deceased father witnesses this procession of follies. Though sorely vexed, it’s useless to admonish his son and heir, the current master of the household, for the two are living in entirely different worlds. Yet to himself he says: ‘’My son’s business is basically unsound. He buys ten kan worth of goods and sells them for eight kan. This kind of so-called ‘business management’ results in nothing but the decrease of capita. By the end of the year
it’s inevitable that an auction notice will be posted on his door. It will announce that this house of ninety-foot frontage, including three strong rooms, will be sold at auction to the highest bidder, together with all its furniture and mats (both high-and middle-class) numbering two hundred and forty in all, along with an intercoastal vessel and a five-passenger pleasure craft, plus a small rowboat, the said auction to be held on the nineteenth day of January next, at the town hall.”
Thus will all the son’s property fall into the hands of others, alI of which the father foresees with deep regret. He likewise discerns, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the paraphernalia used in the Buddhist religious services .
Will also pass into other hands. Therefore he appears to his son in a dream with a timely warning:
“That trio of bronze treasures is among our dearest family heirlooms,, he says, “much too precious to pass into the hands of outsiders. I’ll have to have them wrapped up in a lotus leaf, to take back with me to. Paradise this July when you light the Obon Fire to speed my parting spirit. After all, the inherited business of this house won’t survive the year end. When you bought that considerable parcel of rice land in Tamba Province, my boy, you probably realized that yourself, didn’t you, thinking to provide a place of retreat? Actually, however, that transaction was nothing but a piece of indiscretion. If you think you’re so smart, just remember that the man who finances you is no less clever. Nothing will escape his scrutiny, and no alternative remains for you: lock, stock, and barrel-everything will pass into the hands of strangers. Instead of playing the fool-and that to no purpose-why don’t you apply yourself to business? Even though I’m dead, my son, I have appeared to you in this dream because I love you.” Thus spoke the deceased father.
The dream passed, the morning of December 29th dawned, and the young merchant awoke, shaking with laughter in his bed. “Dear, O dear!” he exclaimed. “To see the old gentleman in a dream just at this busy year end! How perfectly shocking to discover that my dead father is still so grasping that even in the other world he wants me to donate that trio of treasures to the temple.”
But even as he spoke these disparaging words on his deceased father the creditors came pouring in, one after another. How was he to meet the situation?
Well, in recent days, merchants short of money have originated the idea of a so-called bill of exchange, or draft. Whenever they can spare the cash, they deposit it with a bill broker without interest, on condition that when the need arises he will pay it out for them. A rather clever device it is, convenient alike to both creditor and borrower. Our young merchant likewise, making use of this new system, had deposited twenty-five kan of silver toward the end of November with a trusted broker. When the time for the general settlement of debts arrived at the year end, he handed one draft to the rice dealer, another to the draper, a third to the bean-paste dealer, a fourth to the fishmonger-indeed, to each and every creditor who came along he made out a draft, saying it would be cashed by his broker. He even paid his dues to the Kannon Worship Society with a draft, as well as his bills to the bawdyhouse.
Then, proclaiming that all had been .attended to, he pushed off for Sumiyoshi Shrine, to spend the last night of the old year in calm, unruffled prayer. Yet the waves in his bosom never ceased to roll. Perhaps the god of Sumiyoshi felt somewhat uneasy at accepting gifts from such a fellow.
Now whereas the drafts he had drawn on the broker totaled eighty kan of silver, only twenty-five kan was on deposit. Hence the broker announced that since there were too many bills to be cleared, none would be cashed until all the other accounts had been duly settled. While the broker was inquiring more carefully into the matter, the drafts were wafted about from one creditor to another, until at last the confusion was so confounded that none could tell who had which draft. The end result was that they were forced to speed the parting old year with dishonored bills on hand.
Then came the dawn! The dawn of a truly auspicious New Year.
PAWNING AN OLD HALBERD SHEATH
A SOLAR eclipse occurred on New Year’s Day sixty-nine years ago, and when again on the selfsame day in the fifth year of Genroku another occurred, people witnessed a most uncommon dawn of the New Year. As for the calendar, in the fourth year of the reign of Empress Jito, there was inaugurated the Giho Calendar, which was based upon the eclipses of the sun and moon. Ever since then the people have trusted the calendar.
Now, the days moved quickly by, one after another, from the top of the calendar to the bottom, until at last they reached the nethermost rung. It is then that people become so busily occupied that not a sound can be heard not a tune-not even a hum. In the poorer quarters particularly they find it necessary to quarrel, to wash, and to repair the foundations of the walls all at the same time. The result is that they lack time to prepare for the New Year. Not one piece of rice cake, nor even a dried sardine, do they have. Poor and miserable indeed is their life when compared with that of the rich. How in the world do they manage to tide over the year end, these people who are crowded into half a dozen or more narrow sections of a single tenement-house?
Because each of them has something or other to pawn, they show no signs of anxiety. With the one exception of rent, which is paid at the end of each month, they are accustomed every day of their lives to buy for cash whatever necessities of life they may need, such as rice, bean paste, firewood, vinegar, soy sauce, salt, oil, and the like; for nobody will sell them anything on credit. So when the end of the month comes, no creditor will slip up on them unannounced with his account book open, nor is there anyone for them to be afraid of, or anyone to whom they must apologize for unpaid bills. In their case, the saying of the old sage indeed holds true: “Pleasure lies in poverty.”
People who refuse to pay their debts are no better than daylight burglars in disguise. In brief, because they make only a very rough estimate for the year, not figuring their income and outgo month by month, most people find their income insufficient to make both ends meet. But in the case of people who live from hand to mouth things are different. Can they improve their lot by taking pains to enter their expenditures in an account book? Why, even on the very eve of the New Year their daily life is not a bit different from what it is the other days of the .year. How is it possible in such circumstances for them to celebrate the New Year? Their only expectation, poor chaps, lies in their pawning whatever they may happen to have at hand.
For example, one of them will pawn an old umbrella, a cotton gin and a teakettle, which enables him to have one momme of silver with which to tide over the season. As for the chap who lives next door to him, the pawnable articles he finds are his wife’s everyday obi (she will make paper string do), his cotton hood, a set of picnic lunch boxes with the top lid missing, a weaving frame 300 threads wide, a five-go and a one-go measure, five porcelain dishes manufactured in Minato, and a hanging Buddhist altar with assorted service attachments-a grand total of twenty-three items in all, for which he receives the magnificent sum of one momme and six in silver to get through the year end.
The neighbor living to the east of him is a dancing beggar, who during the New Year season is accustomed to switch to the Daikoku dance. Since an appropriate mask costing five mon and a papier-mache mallet will suffice for the season, unnecessary are his headgear, his dancing kimono, and his hakama. So these he will pawn for two momme and seven, and thus pass the year end in tranquillity.
Next door to him lives .a trouble-making ronin who wears only paper clothes, for he has long since sold off his weapons and harness to buy food. Hitherto he has managed to scrape out a bare living by making toy fishing tackle, using the hairs from horses’ tails. But as these are now passe, he is quite reduced to want and is at a complete loss as to how to tide over the year end. Finally, in desperation he sends his wife to the pawnbroker’s with their old halberd sheath. No sooner has the pawnbroker picked it up, however, than he throws it back at the woman, remarking tha
t it is worthless. In an instant her countenance changes and in a fit of rage she screams, ‘’Why do you throw my precious possession about? If you won’t take it in pledge, just say so! ‘Worthless,’ you say? Such abusive words cannot be ignored. This is the sheath of the very halberd my dead father used when he so valiantly distinguished himself at the time of Ishida’s revolt. Having no son, he gave it to me, and when in better days I was married, it sheathed the very halberd in my wedding procession. To disparage it is to abuse the memory of my brave father who is now in heaven. I’m only a woman, I know, but I’m ready this very instant to die if need be. Now I’ll fight!, So saying she grabs the pawnbroker around the waist with all her might, at the same time bursting into tears. Overwhelmed with embarrassment, the pawnbroker apologizes as profusely as possible, but the angry woman is not to be so easily appeased.
Meantime the neighbors have come thronging into the shop, and one of them whispers into the pawnbroker’s ear that he’d better settle the matter before word reaches the ears of her husband, for he is a notorious blackmailer. So after much ado, he manages to settle the trouble by offering her three hundred mon in copper, plus three sho of rice. Alas, to what depths has she sunk. This raging woman was once the heloved daughter of a warrior whose annual stipend was twelve hundred koku of rice:Accustomed to living at ease in her better days, it is only her present poverty that has driven her into such unconscionable blackmailing. Recollecting her illustrious past, she must have been filled with a sense of shame. From a single example such as this one, it is apparent that it just won’t do for anyone to die poor!
This Scheming World Page 2
