Read before the Asiatic Society of Japan, October 17, 1894.
During the spring of 1891, I visited the settlement in Matsue,
Izumo, of an outcast people known as the _yama-no-mono_. Some
results of the visit were subsequently communicated to the "Japan
Mail," in a letter published June 13, 1891, and some extracts
from that letter I think it may be worth while to cite here, by
way of introduction to the subject of the present paper.
"The settlement is at the southern end of Matsue in a tiny
valley, or rather hollow among the hills which form a half-circle
behind the city. Few Japanese of the better classes have ever
visited such a village; and even the poorest of the common people
shun the place as they would shun a centre of contagion; for the
idea of defilement, both moral and physical, is still attached to
the very name of its inhabitants. Thus, although the settlement
is within half an hour's walk from the heart of the city,
probably not half a dozen of the thirty-six thousand residents of
Matsue have visited it.
"There are four distinct outcast classes in Matsue and its
environs: the _hachiya_, the _koya-no-mono_, the _yama-no-mono_,
and the _eta_ of Suguta.
"There are two settlements of _hachiya_. These were formerly the
public executioners, and served under the police in various
capacities. Although by ancient law the lowest class of pariahs,
their intelligence was sufficiently cultivated by police service
and by contact with superiors to elevate them in popular opinion
above the other outcasts. They are now manufacturers of bamboo
cages and baskets. They are said to be descendants of the family
and retainers of Taira-no-Masakado-Heishino, the only man in
Japan who ever seriously conspired to seize the imperial thrones
by armed force, and who was killed by the famous general
Taira-no-Sadamori.
"The _koya-no-mono_ are slaughterers and dealers in hides. They
are never allowed to enter any house in Matsue except the shop of
a dealer in geta and other footgear. Originally vagrants, they
were permanently settled in Matsue by some famous daimyo, who
built for them small houses--_koya_--on the bank of the canal.
Hence their name. As for the _eta_ proper, their condition and
calling are too familiar to need comment in this connection.
"The _yama-no-mono_ are so called because they live among the
hills (_yama_) at the southern end of Matsue. They have a
monopoly of the rag-and-waste-paper business, and are buyers of
all sorts of refuse, from old bottles to broken-down machinery.
Some of them are rich. Indeed, the whole class is, compared with
other outcast classes, prosperous. Nevertheless, public prejudice
against them is still almost as strong as in the years previous
to the abrogation of the special laws concerning them. Under no
conceivable circumstances could any of them obtain employment as
servants. Their prettiest girls in old times often became _joro_;
but at no time could they enter a _joroya_ in any neighboring
city, much less in their own, so they were sold to establishments
in remote places. A _yama-no-mono_ to-day could not even become a
_kurumaya_. He could not obtain employment as a common laborer in
any capacity, except by going to some distant city where he could
hope to conceal his origin. But if detected under such conditions
he would run serious risk of being killed by his fellow-laborers.
Under any circumstance it would be difficult for a
_yama-no-mono_ to pass himself off for a _heimin_. Centuries of
isolation and prejudice have fixed and moulded the manners of the
class in recognizable ways; and even its language has become a
special and curious dialect.
"I was anxious to see something of a class so singularly situated
and specialized; and I had the good fortune to meet a Japanese
gentleman who, although belonging to the highest class of Matsue,
was kind enough to agree to accompany me to their village, where
he had never been himself. On the way thither he told me many
curious things about the _yama-no-mono_. In feudal times these
people had been kindly treated by the samurai; and they were
often allowed or invited to enter the courts of samurai dwellings
to sing and dance, for which performances they were paid. The
songs and the dances with which they were able to entertain even
those aristocratic families were known to no other people, and
were called Daikoku-mai. Singing the Daikoku-mai was, in fact,
the special hereditary art of the _yama-no-mono_, and represented
their highest comprehension of aesthetic and emotional matters.
In former times they could not obtain admittance to a respectable
theatre; and, like the _hachiya_, had theatres of their own. It
would be interesting, my friend added, to learn the origin of
their songs and their dances; for their songs are not in their
own special dialect, but in pure Japanese. And that they should
have been able to preserve this oral literature without
deterioration is especially remarkable from the fact that the
_yama-no-mono_ were never taught to read or write. They could not
even avail themselves of those new educational opportunities
which the era of Meiji has given to the masses; prejudice is
still far too strong to allow of their children being happy in a
public school. A small special school might be possible, though
there would perhaps be no small difficulty in obtaining willing
teachers(1).
"The hollow in which the village stands is immediately behind the
Buddhist cemetery of Tokoji. The settlement has its own Shinto
temple. I was extremely surprised at the aspect of the place; for
I had expected to see a good deal of ugliness and filth. On the
contrary, I saw a multitude of neat dwellings, with pretty
gardens about them, and pictures on the walls of the rooms. There
were many trees; the village was green with shrubs and plants,
and picturesque to an extreme degree; for, owing to the
irregularity of the ground, the tiny streets climbed up and down
hill at all sorts of angles,--the loftiest street being fifty or
sixty feet above the lowermost. A large public bath-house and a
public laundry bore evidence that the _yama-no-mono_ liked clean
linen as well as their _heimin_ neighbors on the other side of
the hill.
"A crowd soon gathered to look at the strangers who had come to
their village,--a rare event for them. The faces I saw seemed
much like the faces of the _heimin_, except that I fancied the
ugly ones were uglier, making the pretty ones appear more pretty
by contrast. There were one or two sinister faces, recalling
faces of gypsies that I had seen; while some little girls, on the
other hand, had remarkably pleasing features. There were no
exchanges of civilities, as upon meeting _heimin_; a Japanese of
the better class would as soon think of taking off his hat to a
_yama-no-mono_ as a West-Indian planter would think of bowing to
a negro. The _yama-no-mono_ themselves usually show by their
attitude that they expect no forms. None of the men saluted us;
but some of the women, on being kindly addressed, made obeisance.
Other women, weaving coarse straw sandals (an inferior quality of
zori), would answer only 'yes' or 'no' to questions, and seemed
to be suspicious of us. My friend called my attention to the fact
that the women were dressed differently from Japanese women of
the ordinary classes. For example, even among the very poorest
_heimin_ there are certain accepted laws of costume; there are
certain colors which may or may not be worn, according to age.
But even elderly women among these people wear obi of bright red
or variegated hues, and kimono of a showy tint.
"Those of the women seen in the city street, selling or buying,
are the elders only. The younger stay at home. The elderly women
always go into town with large baskets of a peculiar shape, by
which the fact that they are _yama-no-mono_ is at once known.
Numbers of these baskets were visible, principally at the doors
of the smaller dwellings. They are carried on the back, and are
used to contain all that the _yama-no-mono_ buy,--old paper, old
wearing apparel, bottles, broken glass, and scrap-metal.
"A woman at last ventured to invite us to her house, to look at
some old colored prints she wished to sell. Thither we went, and
were as nicely received as in a _heimin_ residence. The pictures
--including a number of drawings by Hiroshige--proved to be worth
buying; and my friend then asked if we could have the pleasure of
hearing the Daikoku-mai. To my great satisfaction the proposal
was well received; and on our agreeing to pay a trifle to each
singer, a small band of neat-looking young girls, whom we had not
seen before, made their appearance, and prepared to sing, while
an old woman made ready to dance. Both the old woman and the
girls provided themselves with curious instruments for the
performance. Three girls had instruments shaped like mallets,
made of paper and bamboo: these were intended to represent the
hammer of Dai-koku(2); they were held in the left hand, a fan
being waved in the right. Other girls were provided with a kind
of castanets,--two flat pieces of hard dark wood, connected by a
string. Six girls formed in a line before the house. The old
woman took her place facing the girls, holding in her hands two
little sticks, one stick being notched along a part of its
length. By drawing it across the other stick, a curious rattling
noise was made.
"My friend pointed out to me that the singers formed two distinct
parties, of three each. Those bearing the hammer and fan were the
Daikoku band: they were to sing the ballads. Those with the
castanets were the Ebisu party and formed the chorus.
"The old woman rubbed her little sticks together, and from the
throats of the Daikoku band there rang out a clear, sweet burst
of song, quite different from anything I had heard before in
Japan, while the tapping of the castanets kept exact time to the
syllabification of the words, which were very rapidly uttered.
When the first three girls had sung a certain number of lines,
the voices of the other three joined in, producing a very
pleasant though untrained harmony; and all sang the burden
together. Then the Daikoku party began another verse; and, after
a certain interval, the chorus was again sung. In the meanwhile
the old woman was dancing a very fantastic dance which provoked
laughter from the crowd, occasionally chanting a few comic words.
"The song was not comic, however; it was a very pathetic ballad
entitled 'Yaoya O-Shichi.' Yaoya O-Shichi was a beautiful girl,
who set fire to her own house in order to obtain another meeting
with her lover, an acolyte in a temple where she expected that
her family would be obliged to take refuge after the fire. But
being detected and convicted of arson, she was condemned by the
severe law of that age to be burnt alive. The sentence was
carried into effect; but the youth and beauty of the victim, and
the motive of her offense, evoked a sympathy in the popular heart
which found later expression in song and, drama.
"None of the performers, except the old woman, lifted the feet
from the ground while singing--but all swayed their bodies in
time to the melody. The singing lasted more than one hour, during
which the voices never failed in their quality; and yet, so far
from being weary of it, and although I could not understand a
word uttered, I felt very sorry when it was all over. And with
the pleasure received there came to the foreign listener also a
strong sense of sympathy for the young singers, victims of a
prejudice so ancient that its origin is no longer known."
(1) Since the time this letter to the Mail was written, a primary
school has been established for the yama-no-mono, through the
benevolence of Matsue citizens superior to prejudice. The
undertaking did not escape severe local criticism, but it seems
to have proved successful.
(2) Daikoku is the popular God of Wealth. Ebisu is the patron of
labor. See, for the history of these deities, an article
(translated) entitled "The Seven Gods of Happiness," by Carlo
Puini, vol. iii. Transactions of the Asiatic Society. See, also,
for an account of their place in Shinto worship, Glimpses of
Unfamiliar Japan, vol. 1.
The foregoing extracts from my letter to the "Mail" tell the
history of my interest in the Daikoku-mai. At a later time I was
able to procure, through the kindness of my friend Nishida
Sentaro, of Matsue, written copies of three of the ballads as
sung by the _yama-no-mono_; and translations of these were
afterwards made for me. I now venture to offer my prose
renderings of the ballads,--based on the translations referred
to,--as examples of folk-song not devoid of interest. An
absolutely literal rendering, executed with the utmost care, and
amply supplied with explanatory notes, would be, of course, more
worthy the attention of a learned society. Such a version would,
however, require a knowledge of Japanese which I do not possess,
as well as much time and patient labor. Were the texts in
themselves of value sufficient to justify a scholarly
translation, I should not have attempted any translation at all;
but I felt convinced that their interest was of a sort which
could not be much diminished by a free and easy treatment. From
any purely literary point of view, the texts are disappointing,
exhibiting no great power of imagination, and nothing really
worthy to be called poetical art. While reading such verses, we
find ourselves very far away indeed from the veritable poetry of
Japan,--from those compositions which, with a few chosen
syllables only, can either create a perfect colored picture in
the mind, or bestir the finest sensations of memory with
marvelous penetrative delicacy. The Daikoku-mai are extremely
crude; and their long popularity has been due, I fancy, rather to
the very interesting manner of singing them than to any quality
which could permit us to compare them with the old English
ballads.
The legends upon which these chants were based still exist in
many other forms, including dramatic compositions. I need
scarcely refer to the vast number of artistic suggestions which
they have given, but I may observe that their influence in this
regard has not yet passed away. Only a few months ago, I saw a
number of pretty cotton prints, fresh from the mill, picturing
Oguri-Hangwan making the horse Onikage stand upon a chessboard.
Whether the versions of the ballads I obtained in Izumo were
composed there or elsewhere I am quite unable to say; but the
stories of Shuntoku-maru, Oguri-Hangwan, and Yaoya O-Shichi are
certainly well known in every part of Japan.
Together with these prose translations, I submit to the Society
the original texts, to which are appended some notes of interest
about the local customs connected with the singing of the
Daikoku-mai, about the symbols used by the dancers, and about the
comic phrases chanted at intervals during the
performances,--phrases of which the coarse humor sometimes
forbids any rendering.
All the ballads are written in the same measure, exemplified by
the first four lines of "Yaoya O-Shichi."
Koe ni yoru ne no, aki no skika
Tsuma yori miwoba kogasu nari
Go-nin musume no sanno de
Iro mo kawasanu Edo-zakura.
The chorus, or _hayashi_, does not seem to be sung at the end of
a fixed number of lines, but rather at the termination of certain
parts of the recitative. There is also no fixed limit to the
number of singers in either band: these may be very many or very
few. I think that the curious Izumo way of singing the burden--so
that the vowel sounds in the word iya uttered by one band, and in
the word sorei uttered by the other, are made to blend together
--might be worth the attention of some one interested in Japanese
folk-music. Indeed, I am convinced that a very delightful and
wholly unexplored field of study offers itself in Japan to the
student of folk-music and popular chants. The songs of the
_Honen-odori_, or harvest dances, with their curious choruses;
the chants of the _Bon-odori_, which differ in every district;
the strange snatches of song, often sweet and weird, that one
hears from the rice-fields or the mountain slopes in remote
provinces, have qualities totally different from those we are
accustomed to associate with the idea of Japanese music,--a charm
indisputable even for Western ears, because not less in harmony
with the nature inspiring it than the song of a bird or the
shrilling of cicadae. To reproduce such melodies, with their
extraordinary fractional tones, would be no easy task, but I
cannot help believing that the result would fully repay the
labor. Not only do they represent a very ancient, perhaps
primitive musical sense: they represent also something
essentially characteristic of the race; and there is surely much
to be learned in regard to race-emotion from the comparative
study of folk-music.
The fact, however, that few of those peculiarities which give so
strange a charm to the old peasant-chants are noticeable in the
Izumo manner of singing the Daikoku-mai would perhaps indicate
that the latter are comparatively modern.