“Pardon, Danna(24) but may I ask you if you are from Tokyo?”
“Do I look from Tokyo?”
“Look? Why a glance ... your language tells.”
“Can you tell where in Tokyo?”
“Well, that is a puzzler; Tokyo is so large.... Let me see. You cannot
be from down town. You must belong to up-town. The up-town parts
are ... Kojimachi, eh? Or Koishikawa? If not, you must be from Ushigome
or Yotsuya?”
“Somewhere around there. You seem to know Tokyo well?”
“Well, I am Tokyo-born, Danna, look what I may.”
“No wonder, I thought you looked a city man.”
“Aha, he, he, he, it is all up with a fellow, Danna, when he comes down
to this.”
“What made you to drift into a place like this?”
“You are right, Danna, it is drifted that I have done. I had gone down
so low that I could not go lower, and had to say good-bye to Tokyo.”
“You ran a barber-shop from the beginning?”
“No, not ran, Danna, I am only a journeyman barber. There is a block
named Matsunagacho, a dingy small place ... a gentleman like you don’t
know it, of course. But Ryukan-bashi ... you don’t know that either,
eh? It is a pretty well known bridge....”
“I say, give me little more soap, ♦won’t you? It hurts.”
♦ “wont” replaced with “won’t”
“It hurts? I am very particular about shaving, Danna. I never consider
my work done, until I have gone over along and then gone over
contrariwise, cutting each individual hair at the very root. No, what
the latter-day barbers do is not shaving but letting the razor slide
over the face. Bear it a bit more and you will be done.”
“Bear I have done, quite a while now. There is a good fellow, put some
warm water, if not soap.”
“You can stand no longer? My shaving never hurts. The fact is, you have
allowed your beard to grow too long without shaving.”
The barber reluctantly let go my cheek, which he was pinching with
the force of clinched nippers, and taking down a thin apology of a
red cake of soap, he had no sooner wetted it in a basin of water
than he went all over my face with it. To have a piece of soap applied
directly to the skin of my face was one of my rarest experiences in
barber shops, and I was not over-pleased to see that the water in which
the soap was dipped had the appearance of having stood there for some
days!
Sitting in a barber’s chair, I was called upon, in vindication of my
right as a customer, to look into a mirror. I have been thinking, for
sometime, however, if I should not waive this right. A mirror owes it
to itself that its surface is perfectly even and flat, and the image it
reflects shall be faithful to the original. If the owner of a mirror,
which is not possessed of this common quality, forces you to look
into it, you may charge him, as you will a poor photographer, with
intentionally injuring your looks. Snubbing the vain may serve cultural
purposes; but I fail to see the justice of insulting you by calling a
reflection your face, which makes a mockery of it. The mirror, which
I was expected to exercise patience to look into, has decidedly been
insulting me. I slightly turn my face right, and the mirror makes all
nose of it. I turn left, and my mouth extends clear up to the ears.
I look a perfect picture of a crushed toad, when I turn my eyes upward.
My head elongates itself limitlessly, the moment I incline it ever
so little forward. I must make of myself monsters of all imaginable
variety as long as I sit before this mirror. Who can say that I was not
undergoing a torture?
Moreover, this barber was no common barber. He appeared human enough,
when I first looked in, and saw him depositing tobacco ashes from his
long pipe on a toy flag of Anglo-Japanese Alliance, apparently feeling
very wearisome. But fear crept into me, the moment I walked in and gave
him the custody of my head; for a doubt arose in me whether the right
of ownership of my cranium and parts appertaining passed completely
to him or whether I still retained a small fraction of it myself. His
handling of my head! I felt that it could not remain there much longer,
even if it were nailed onto my shoulders.
His manner of using the razor showed him to be a perfect stranger to
the rules of civilization. The weapon made a most blood-curdling sound,
when scraping across my cheek. As it came to the tuft of hair by the
ear, the artery almost snapped. About the chin, it sported itself
making a noise as of somebody crunching the frost raised ground. The
most dreadful part of the story was that this barber considered himself
the most skilful tonsor in the land.
Lastly, the man was well loaded with something of fairly strong
flavour. Every time he said Danna, a smell accompanied the word and a
gust of highly-charged gas attacked my nose. At this rate there was no
telling when or where his razor might make a jaunt of its own. The man
using it having no definite plan to guide him, it was impossible that
I, who placed my head in his custody, should have any idea of it. I
should not grumble as my head was in his hands as part of a legitimate
understanding. But what, if he should change his mind and set about
cutting my throat?
“It is only fellows who are not sure of their hand that use soap.
But it cannot be helped, perhaps, in your case, because you are too
hairy, Danna.” So protesting my man put the soap back to the shelf; but
disobeying his wish, it fell to the clay floor.
“I don’t think I have seen much of you around here, Danna. You have
come here lately?”
“Why, yes, I came here, only a few days ago.”
“Is that so? Where are you stopping?”
“At Shiota Hotel.”
“You are a guest at Shiota, are you? That was what I thought. To tell
you the truth I came here looking for help from the old gentleman of
Shiota. I used to know him, located near him as I was, while he lived
in Tokyo. He is a fine old man, knowing what is what. He lost his wife
last year, and he now passes most of his time in toying with his curios
and things. He is said to have great things, which would bring in a
good little fortune if sold.”
“Has he not got a pretty daughter?”
“Look out, there!”
“What for?”
“Why? You may not know it, but she is a divorcee.”
“So, eh?”
“You don’t seem to make much of it, Danna; but it was an affair. It was
not at all necessary that she should take a divorce.... The bank busted
and she left her husband, because she could no longer go in for a high
living. She may be all right, as long as the old man is there; but if
anything should happen to him, she would be lost in the sea.”
“You think so?”
“Of course I do, and she and her elder brother, who is now the head of
the family are no friends at all.”
“The head of the family?”
“Yes, the old man is retired, and ♦family affairs are in the charge of
his son, who lives upon the hill. It is a fine place he lives in, with
a most beautiful view. You should have a look at it.”
♦ “famliy” replaced with “family”
“Oh, say give me another coat of soap. It is hurting again.”
“Your skin must be very soft. It is because your beard is too tough.
You must have a shave at least once in three days. If my shave hurts
you, you can’t stand it any where else.”
“I shall do so in future. Or I may have it every day.”
“You are going to stay so long? Do you know that you are running a
risk? I should say, don’t. No good will come out of it. You don’t know
what trouble you will bring upon yourself by getting tangled up in a
silly affair.”
“Why?”
“Ah, Danna, that woman is pretty to look at; but you must know that she
is not right in the head.”
“Why?”
“Why? The villagers all say she is crazy.”
“There must be some mistake about that.”
“No, we have a proof that it is not. Don’t, Danna, it is risky.”
“I am perfectly safe. What kind of proof do you have?”
“Well, it is a queer affair. Light a cigarette and take your time, and
I shall tell.... Will you have a shampoo?”
“No thanks.”
“Let me then shake off the dandruff a little.”
The barber put his ten fingers, which ended in well grown nails, loaded
with goodly deposits of dirt, upon my cranium, and set them in motion
most violently, forward and backward. The formidable nails ploughed the
root of each hair in my head like a rake in the hand of a giant combing
a field of wild grass with the power and swiftness of a hurricane. I do
not know how many hundreds of thousands of hair there are in my head;
I only felt that every one of my ♦capillary growth was being up-rooted,
leaving the skin in wales, in addition to making the skull and the grey
matter of brains vibrate most violently. So strongly did the man
rummage my head.
♦ “capilary” replaced with “capillary”
“How do you feel, now? Wasn’t that good?”
“You went at it pretty lively.”
“Eh? Everybody feels clear in head after my scrub.”
“I feel as if my head is dropping away.”
“You are feeling so tired? It is the weather does it. Spring makes
you feel lazy. Have a smoke. You must feel lonesome, Danna, stopping
alone at Shiota? You must drop in to see me. The Tokyo-born likes the
Tokyo-born. Your talk ♦won’t fall in with others. Does the O-Jo-san come
out to say nice things to you? The trouble with her is she is all mixed
up about right and wrong.”
♦ “wont” replaced with “won’t”
“You were going to say something about O-Jo-san, and then you went
about scrubbing my head and I felt as it was coming off.”
“That was so. My head is so empty and I skip about so. I was going to
say that the priest fell head over ears in love with her.”
“The priest? What priest?”
“The priestling of Kaikanji, of course.”
“You haven’t said a word about a priest, full-fledged or half fledged.”
“Haven’t I? I am so hasty, Danna. The priest, that priestling, was
good in looks, of a cast that girls like. This bozu(25) became, I tell
you, smitten by her of Shiota and at last wrote her a love letter....
Wait a bit, did he go at it himself? No, it was, he wrote.... Let me
see.... I am getting mixed up.... No, I am all right, I’ve got it ...
so was in fright and consternation.”
“Who was in fright and consternation?”
“The woman, of course.”
“By receiving the letter?”
“That would be a saving grace if she were. But she is not of the kind
to get scared.”
“Who was it really, then, that was in fright and consternation?”
“Why, he that spoke to her of his love.”
“I thought he did not go at it personally.”
“Oh, chuck it. It is all wrong. By receiving the letter, can’t you see?”
“Why then it must be the woman, who was in fright and consternation.”
“No, the man.”
“If man, then it must be the priest?”
“Yes, the priest, of course.”
“But what scared him so?”
“What scared him? Why, he, the priest, was in the temple assisting
the abbot in the afternoon service. Then all of a sudden, the woman
rushed into the temple.... Lord, she must be off a great deal.”
“Did she do anything?”
“‘If I am so dear to you, come let us make love before our all mighty
Buddha,’ she said and hugged him by the neck!”
“Ho?”
“Consternation was no word, for poor Taian, the priest. He got all the
shame he wanted by writing to a lunatic, and, disappearing that night,
he died.”
“Died?”
“At least I think he must have killed himself. He could not have
outlived the shame.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Maybe he is still living somewhere. Death would not have come out so
well, the other party being a mad woman.”
“Very interesting, indeed.”
“Interesting is no word for it. Why the affair set the whole village
a-roaring with laughter. But the woman, being off her mind, was all
indifference as she still is. All will be well for a man so sober like
you, Danna; but the party being what she is, you don’t know what
mess you will get into, if you try to flirt with her.”
“I have got to be careful, eh? Ha, ha, ha!”
The Spring breeze came lazily wafting from the genially warm beach,
and set the entrance curtain of the barber’s shop flapping sleepily,
and a swallow cast its flitting shadow in the mirror before me, as it
dived under the curtain with its body half turned. Under the eve of a
house on the other side of the road, a sexagenarian sat squatting on a
slightly raised seat, and was busy shelling bivalves in silence. Every
time a small knife went in between shells, a small flabby lump fell
into a basket, and the empty shells were thrown away, two feet across
the gossamer, there adding to the height of a sparkling heap. Now and
again the heap collapsed, sending the oyster, clam, and other shells
down into a small brook, to be buried forever in its sandy bed. In
no time the heap grew again under a willow tree; but the old man was
too busy to think of a life beyond molluscs; he only went on throwing
meatless shells upon gossamer. His basket seemed to be bottomless and
his Spring day endless.
The sandy stream ran under a twelve yard bridge, carrying the warm
water of Spring toward the sea shore. Down where Spring’s water joined
the tide of the sea, numberless fishing nets were drying in the sun,
hanging from erect poles of longer or shorter lengths and were giving,
one might suspect, a fish-smelling warmth to the soft breeze wafting
towards the village through their ♦meshes. And one saw between them the
placid face of the sea, undulating slowly like molten lead.
♦ “messhes” replaced with “meshes”
No harmony was possible between this scenery and my barber. If he were
a man of strong personality, strong enough to impress me as powerfully
as the scenery around, I should have been struck with a sense of
great incongruity. Fortunately, however, my man was not so striking a
character. However Tokyo-born, however high-spiritedly he might talk,
he was no match for the all genial and all embracing influence of
nature. My barber has been essaying to break up this all subjugating
power of nature with all his caustic effervescences; but instead he has
been swallowed up and was floating in the light wave of Spring, not
leaving a trace of the loud-talking Tokyo-born barber. Inconsistency
is a phenomenon to be found between persons or things of equal
standing, but possessed of hopeless incompatibility in strength, spirit
or physique. When distance is very great between the two, inconsistency
wears out, and will, instead, assume activity only as part of a
superior power. Thus it happens that cleverness becomes a willing
servant of greatness; the unintelligent of the clever; and horses and
cattle of the unintelligent. My barber is making a comic exhibition
of himself, with the beautiful scenery of Spring for his background.
He who tries to spoil the calm Springy feeling is only adding to the
♦profundity of that feeling. This man of very cheap vaporing cannot but
prove after all a colour in full harmony with the Spring afternoon,
which is symbolic of gloriousness.
♦ “profoundity” replaced with “profundity”
My man would make rather a good picture, and poetry, too, when studied
in this light, and I stayed talking with him long after my shave
was over, when a small head of a young priest put in an appearance,
slipping in by the entrance curtain and said:
“A shave please.”(26)
The newcomer was a jolly-looking little priest in an old-fashioned grey
cotton clothes, held together by a coil of light but cotton-wadded
belt, under a mosquito-net-like cloak.
“You got a scolding, didn’t you, the other day, for loafing,
Ryonen-san?”
“No, I was complimented.”
“Complimented for catching minnows on your way to an errand, were you?”
“The Osho-san praised me, saying: ‘You did well Ryonen, to take your
time in play, young though you are.’”
“That accounts, eh? You have got many swellings in your head. Too much
trouble to shave a bumpy head like this; but I let you off this time.
Don’t come again with a freak of a head like this.”
“Thanks, I shall go to a better barber when my head is in good shape.”
“Ha, ha, ha, this zig-zag thing has got a tongue to talk with to be
sure.”
“Poor in work, but quite up in boozing, that is what you are, arn’t
you?”
“Poor in work? Say it again....”
“Not I, but it is the Osho-san who says it. Don’t get so mad, if you
know how old you are.”
“Humph, the idea! Isn’t that so Danna?”
“Ya—eh?”
“Priests, they live high above the stone steps, and have nothing
much to look after. That must be what makes them so free in tongue.
Even this little fellow can talk so. There lay down your head—lay down,
I say, do you hear? I will cut you if you don’t do as I tell you. You
understand? The red thing will run.”
“It hurts! Don’t be so rough.”
“If you can’t stand this sort of thing, how can you expect to be a
priest?”
“I am one already.”
“But not full feathered yet. Oh, say, by the way, how did Taian-san
die?”
“Taian-san is not dead.”
“Not dead? He must be dead.”
“Taian-san has got a new spirit and is now hard at his study at
Taibaiji temple in Rikuzen. Everybody expects he will make a great
priest by and by. A very good thing, indeed.”
“What is good? Priests may have their way; but it cannot be good even
for them to decamp at night? You ought to be careful, you young one, it
is woman who brings you trouble. Speaking of a woman, does that crazy
thing still come to the Osho-san?”
“I have never heard of a woman named ‘Crazy Thing’.”
“You blockhead, tell me, does she come or does she not.”
“No crazy woman comes; but Mr. Shiota’s daughter comes.”
“The Osho-san may be great; but he ♦won’t be able to make anything of
the poor girl. She is possessed by her former husband.”
♦ “wont” replaced with “won’t”
“That lady is a very worthy woman. The Osho-san speaks highly of her.”
“That beats all. Everything is topsy-turvy up there, above the stone
steps. Whatever the Osho-san may say, the mad must be mad—Here now, all
shaved. Hurry home and get another scolding.”
♦ “topsyturvy” replaced with “topsy-turvy”
“No, not yet. I shall take little more time to get a good opinion of
the Osho-san.”
“Do as you please, you long-tongued brat.”
“Go on, you dry rot.”
“What!”
But the clean shaved head dived under and was on the other side of the
curtain, the Spring breeze softly fanning it.