This Scheming World

by Ihara Saikaku

  Whatever you may say, there’s no place like home. It is quite natural, then, for merchants of every province to try to settle their year end accounts as soon as passible, in anticipation of celebrating New Year in their home towns.

  In Kyoto there lived a small-scale merchant who dealt in thread and yarn. For twenty years he had made it a regular practice to visit Nagasaki annually on business. Being shrewder than anyone else, whenever he started on his journey he invariably ate a last meal at home, just before he left Kyoto, for neither on land nor on sea was he willing to spend a penny more than was necessary on anything at all. During his stay in Nagasaki he never even took a peep at the gay quarter of Maruyama. Therefore he had not the least idea how elegant Kinzan looked when seated, nor how white was Kacho’s neck. At night when he retired he set an abacus close beside his pillow, and slept with an account book in his hand. He was forever figuring out how he could make a killing by cheating some gullible Chinese trader. But nowadays Chinese merchants understand and speak Japanese very well, and although they may have a lot of surplus cash on hand they won’t lend it unless they have house mortgages as security. They also know that it is profitable to buy a house at a cheap price. They are now so smart that they can no longer be considered easy marks. Smarter still, however, are the native merchants of Nagasaki, who will not allow anyone to enjoy a “soft” job.

  If cleverness were the only requisite for getting rich, this man from Kyoto would have been a millionaire, but he was not blessed with that sine qua non of riches good luck. There were many other Kyoto thread dealers who had begun visiting Nagasaki on business about the same time as he had and who had amassed great fortunes. Thereafter they would send their clerks down to Nagasaki in their places, they themselves remaining at ease in Kyoto, beguiling the time now with sight-seeing, now with flower-viewing, and now in gay dissipation. One of them ascribed the secret of his success to what he called the “merchant spirit,” which meant the constant observation of the world of affairs and trying to determine in advance what articles would rise in price the following year. Then he resolutely set about cornering that particular market, and thus by speculation made a large fortune. If one did not stake his all on the game, he would remain forever poor.

  Now our thread dealer calculated very closely the difference between the purchase price in Nagasaki and the selling price in Kyoto. And his figures were never found to be very far off. However, as he was engaged in a sound business venture, he never made a killing. The margin of profit that he did realize was eaten up by the repayment of interest on loans as well as the principal. In short, though his labors were great and painstaking, it was another who reaped the profits.

  Every New Year’s Eve he was in the habit of putting up at an inn in Hashimoto, where he would see the old year out. It was just an old family custom, he would explain, but the truth of the matter was that he couldn’t stay home because he couldn’t pay his debts. If possible, he would have preferred celebrating the New Year at home in Kyoto. Ruminating on the .vicissitudes of life, he came to the conclusion that oil the one hand his small-scale business would probably never cause him any really serious loss; yet on the other hand, as other people rightly remarked, it would never bring him in any very large profit. “This year,” he said to himself, “I must devise some plan beyond my regular business and make a large profit.” Having so determined in his mind, he went down to Nagasaki, all the while cudgeling his brain to hit upon some good scheme. But after all, since only money begets money, there seemed to be no way to create it ex nihilo.

  Wasn’t there some attraction or freak of nature that he could exhibit next spring? He found it hard to think of anything, for already a variety of novelties had been created by the artisans of Kyoto and Osaka. Still, there might be just one article among the imports that would do. Anyhow, it had to be a very special kind of novelty, for anything less would be unprofitable. He considered the matter very carefully. Certain to be profitable, since none had ever been seen on any stage, was a dragon cub or a fire-eating bird. But such an anomaly was not to be obtained even in Nagasaki.

  So secretly he sought out a Chinese trader and inquired if he happened to know of any rare thing in a foreign country. “Although I have heard of them,” replied the Chinese trader, “never yet have I seen a phoenix, or a thunderbird. After all, whatever is rare in Japan-such as aloeswood or ginseng-is equally rare in China.” This Chinese merchant, having traversed thousands of miles of rough sea at the risk of his life, had come all the way to Japan solely in search of one rare thing-money.

  Considering this to be very sensible advice indeed, the merchant from Kyoto applied himself all the more diligently to his business. But at the same time he bought various kinds of exotic birds in Nagasaki. But when he returned to Kyoto with the birds, since there were already similar ones on the market, they failed to bring him in any profit. The peacocks which he brought back, however, though already familiar to the public, were still popular. Thanks to the sale of his peacocks he was barely able to break even on the capital he had invested in the sideline business.

  From this story we ought to learn this lesson: “Shoemaker, stick to your last,” for after all, one’s regular business is best for him.

  A NIGHT AUCTION AT THE YEAR-END

  NOT A year passes without people complaining that the times are bad and business is poor. But suppose you try to sell something that has a market price of ten momme at your own price of nine momme and eight bu. Immediately you will receive orders amounting to a thousand kan. On the other hand, if you offer to buy for ten momme something which ordinarily sells for nine momme and eight bu, you will immediately be offered two thousand kan’s worth. How wonderfully magnanimous are the merchants in large cities! The fact is that buying and selling depends entirely on the way people calculate.

  People who maintain that what this world lacks is money must never have seen the living quarters of the rich. On the contrary, money exists abundantly in this world. This is proved by the patent fact that for the past thirty years people all over the country have been growing more and more prosperous. A house formerly thatched with straw is now shingled. The barrier house at Fuwa, described in an old poem as having the moonlight filtering in, is now roofed with tile and whitewashed. Besides, it has a strongroom and a storehouse. The sliding screens of the hall are no longer covered with gold and silver dust, for this is considered too gaudy; they are painted with gold and silver paint. Moreover, the pictures on them are drawn in India ink, elegantly enough. And so far as taste goes, it is quite the same as that of city dwellers.

  Again we learn from an old poem that formerly the salt-burning women of Nada wore no combs in their hair. But nowadays they are very particular about their kimono and eager to hear about and see for themselves the latest city fashions. They know that a kimono design of small pine trees is no longer stylish, but that the new mode is a design of bamboo in the evening sun. Also it is a fact that while suburban dwellers in even Kyoto and Osaka wear kimono of an outdated design of long paulownia flowers, the very latest fashions may be seen in the country. It is amusing, however, to see the word “cuckoo” dyed on the shoulder part of a kimono of obsolete design, or to see the red-dyed grapevines clinging to their trellises.

  At any rate, wherever you may be, if you only have plenty of money, you may do as you please. On the other hand, a poor man is unable by any means to tide over the year end. If there’s no money-well, there’s just no money-that’s all! No matter how hard a man may search the shelf, he can’t find even a penny unless he previously put it there himself. Hence it is highly advisable to practice economy all the year round. If a man will save one mon a day, which he might spend for tobacco, in one year he will have saved three hundred and sixty-five mon, and in ten years three kan and sixty-five momme. If he economizes in everything-tea, fuel, bean paste, salt and the like-by such frugality he will be able to save at least thirty-six momme in a year, no matt
er how impoverished his daily life may be. When you add interest to this sum, in thirty years the total will mount up to eight kan. In short, one should take care every day of his life and never be negligent in even a trifle. Especially must he remember the old proverb, “At every meal with drink poverty flourishes.”

  There was once a poor maker of nails who barely managed to live from hand to mouth. Never a day passed but he bought eight man’s worth of sake three times a day, having it poured into a small bottle that had once been used to offer sacred sake to the fox god at the time of the Inari Festival. In this manner he lived for forty-five years addicted to drink. The total quantity he consumed during these years amounted to forty koku and five to, supposing that the quantity of sake he drank daily was two and a half go. If the cost was twenty-four mon a day, counting twelve momme of silver as one kan of copper, over the years the sum total he spent for sake amounted to four kan and eight hundred and sixty momme of silver. When people made fun of this man, saying that if he were more temperate he would not be so poor, he would laugh it off, just as though he were managing his household with success. Declaring that no teetotaler had ever been known to build a storehouse, he refused to stop drinking.

  One New Year’s Eve, this man had practically completed his preparation for the season, with the Horai decorations set out, when he discovered that there was no money left to buy his usual ration of sake. Since for forty-five years not a day had passed but that he was in his cups, to him the thought of facing the first day of the New Year without his sake was unbearable. If this should occur, New Year’s bay would for him be devoid of meaning. So husband and wife put their heads together, but could think of no one who might lend them the drink money; nor had they anything that they might pawn. Finally they thought of a sedge-straw hat, used the previous summer to keep off the heat of the sun, which still remained green and in good condition.

  Summer time would not be coming around again for quite a while. A person could sell whatever he had for his convenience, couldn’t he? There seemed to be no other way to meet the immediate crisis.

  So the man took the straw hat to the night auction of secondhand goods, which was by this time in full swing. All the sellers, judging by their appearance, were suffering from burdens of debt and had no one to turn to for relief. The auctioneer, spurred on by his ten percent commission, was bidding up the prices with vigor. The things he offered for sale at this year-end auction were without exception both poor and miserable. Though mute, they yet spoke eloquently of how badly their owners were in need of money.

  One article being auctioned seemed to be the New Year kimono of a little girl of twelve or thirteen, with a seashore design dyed on a yellowish blue background. The lining was pale crimson. The kimono was well padded, but the sleeves had never been stitched together. When the auctioneer brought it to the hammer, the right side and the lining were knocked down for six momme and three and a half bu apiece. The lining by itself, however, was not wearable.

  Next in order, half of a small yellowtail caught in the Tango Sea was brought out. It went for two momme and a half bu. After that a mosquito net made to cover a two-mat room was put up for auction. It was bid up from eight momme to thirty-three and a half momme, but in the end it was not sold, and that for a good reason. Everybody laughed, saying that the owner was to be congratulated, because instead of having had to pawn it long before, he had managed to hold on to the mosquito net until New Year’s Eve.

  Then there was brought to the hammer a calligraphy text written on ten sheets of specially made paper pasted together to form a long scroll, and to which was affixed the signature and seal of the author. It was bid up from one bu to five. The auctioneer, complaining that the bid was too low, cried out, “Why, the paper alone must be worth at least three momme.”

  “Yes, it might be,” came a voice from the crowd, “if there weren’t any writing on it, but the useless calligraphy text has reduced its value to less than five bu. Whoever the writer was, I say he’s just a ‘breechcloth artist’.”

  “What do you mean by a ‘breechcloth artist’?” asked the auctioneer.

  “Well, just as nobody lacks a breechcloth,” he answered with a sneer, “nobody lacks so much skill in brush writing as this fellow!”

  Next, with much care, they brought out articles labeled “fragile.” There were ten china plates, between which were packed letters written by well-known courtesans of Kyoto and Osaka. Busy as the people were, they still could not resist the temptation to read them. The letters which had been written in December, they discovered, contained no mention whatever of love or passion, but were begging only for money-with appropriate and polite apologies, of course. After all, you know, love can’t reach fulfillment without money.

  “The owner of these fine plates,” intoned the auctioneer, “must once have been called a great benefactor. Why, each one of these letters must have cost him at least one piece of silver.”

  “In that case,” came a voice from the crowd,” the old letters must be worth more than the plates are.” And everybody roared with laughter.

  Following that, an image of Fudo, the deity who sits amidst blazing fire, was brought forth for sale, together with a sacred club, a flower vase, a holy staff, and an old altar used for the fire-burning ritual. These were greeted with the derisive comment that Fudo was too helpless to bring about his own good fortune.

  At this point the sedge-straw hat was put up for auction. Someone in the audience seeing it cried out, disregarding the fact that its owner was present, “Oh, what a shame! The owner must have expected to wear it many more summers, because it’s kept in an old paper sack. What a thrifty fellow he must be!”

  The first bid for the hat was three mon, but by the time it was knocked down at auction the bid had risen to four teen mon. As the money was handed to the seller, he swore in the name of some god that he had bought it for thirty-six mon in May and had worn it only once: on the festival day of the blue warrior. The self-disclosure of his disgrace was truly funny to hear.

  At the final auction of the night, a man bought twenty-five cases of year-end gift fans and a box of tobacco for two momme and seven bu. On returning home he opened the box. Inside, hidden under the tobacco, he found three gold ryo pieces an entirely unexpected stroke of good fortune it was for him, indeed.

  BLINDS FROM BRUSH HOLDERS

  A CERTAIN man who had learned an unforgettable lesson from the trying experiences of the year end made up his mind that even though he had to observe the first three days of the New Year because of popular custom whether he wanted to or not, still he would start working on the fourth day. He resolved to deal strictly on a cash-and-carry basis, and would do without fish at table unless he was sure he could afford it. Moreover, during the year he would balance all his accounts faithfully on every one of the five annual settlement days. He lived thus a whole year, ever keeping in mind how exacting bill collectors are.

  It was not long before another New Year rolled around. This year, he thought, he would change the dates of household events and as early as the second day he would celebrate the new day book making, which he had celebrated on the tenth day; also he would take inventory on the third day rather than the fifth as had been his custom hitherto. It was not a good idea, he thought, even to go out of the house, because if he did he might have to spend money unexpectedly, or someone might ask him to go somewhere with him, which would mean a whole precious day wasted. He spoke to others only on business, and all day and every day he occupied his time with business calculations.

  “Since we live in a world where little profit is to be made,” he thought, “the most important thing is to economize on household expenditures.” So in March, the month when servants’ contracts come up for renewal, he discharged the kitchen maid and thereafter his wife did the housework. As for himself, in the daytime he occupied his usual place as master in the shop, but after dark when the shop w
as closed he worked along with his apprentice boy at the mortar. Besides, he would never wash his feet with hot water but always used cold water fresh from the well, even when the weather was bitterly cold. But this man must have been haunted by the ghost of Poverty, for in spite of all his economizing his business dropped off, and he melted away like ice in the sun.

  It has been well said that a one-sho dipper can’t hold more than one sho. Such was the case with a certain priestess of Kumano, who used to show people pictures of Paradise and Hell and sing popular songs till her breath gave out. Despite her desperate solicitation for alms, however, she was barely able to fill her one-sho dipper with rice doled out in charity. The longing which people have for a happy future life exhibits itself in varying degrees, depending largely on the character of the solicitor.

  One winter the priest Ryushoin went on a journey to raise contributions to restore the great image of the Buddha. He would not solicit at all from unbelievers. He just walked silently along the way, accepting purely voluntary donations. Nevertheless people donated one kan every step of the way, and ten kan every ten steps. Some even gave gold and silver. The image of the Buddha shines more brightly if it is made of metal; the solicitation of contributions goes better if the preacher looks distinguished. Be that as it may, since the present age is the high noon of Buddhism, and besides, since the restoration of the image was a special event, every Buddhist sect showed great eagerness and interest in it. Even the poor who lived on the outskirts of town donated one mon each, which when totaled together would be equal to the cost of a column worth twelve kan used in the reconstruction. After all, you ought to be careful in everything and save all the money you can, no matter how small the amount, on every possible occasion.