Lafcadio Hearn's Japan (13 page)

Tété
popp
ō
Kaka
popp
ō
Tété
popp
ō
Kaka
popp
ō
Tété . . .

No European dove has such a cry. He who can hear, for the first time, the voice of the yamabato without feeling a new sensation at his heart little deserves to dwell in this happy world.

Yet all this—the old katchi
Å«
-yashiki and its gardens—will doubtless have vanished forever before many years. Already a multitude of gardens, more spacious and more beautiful than mine, have been converted into rice-fields or bamboo groves; and the quaint Izumo city, touched at last by some long-projected railway line,—perhaps even within the present decade,—will swell, and change, and grow commonplace, and demand these grounds for the building of facto
ries and mills. Not from here alone, but from all the land the ancient peace and the ancient charm seem doomed to pass away. For impermanency is the nature of things, more particularly in Japan; and the changes and the changers shall also be changed until there is found no place for them,—and regret is vanity. The dead art that made the beauty of this place was the art, also, of that faith to which belongs the all-consoling text,
“Verily, even plants and trees rocks and stones, all shall enter into Nirvana.”

Three Popular Ballads 1

During the spring of 1891, I visited the settlement in Matsué, 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 worthwhile to cite here, by way of introduction to the subject of the present paper.

“The settlement is at the southern end of Matsué, 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 center 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 Matsué have visited it.

“There are four distinct outcast classes in Matsué 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 throne 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 Matsué except the shop of a dealer in
geta
and other foot-gear. Originally vagrants, they were permanently settled in Matsué by some famous daimy
ō
, 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 Matsué. 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
jor
ō
;
but at no time could they enter a
jor
ō
-ya
in any neighboring city, much less in their own, so they were sold to establishments in remote places. A
yama-no-mono
today 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 molded 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 Matsué, 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-nomono,
and represented their highest comprehension of æsthetic and emotional matters. In former times they could not obtain admittance to a respectable theater; and, like the
hachiya,
had theaters 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.
²

“The hollow in which the village stands is immediately behind the Buddhist cemetery of Tok
ō
ji. The settlement has its own Shint
ō
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 lower most. A large public bath-house and a public laundry bore evidence that the
yama-nomono
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
z
ō
ri)
, 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 streets, 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 Daikoku;
³
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.