6
The Unrolling Human Picture Scroll in Ryojin hisho

Folk Life

One of the more engaging aspects of Ryojin hisho is its portrayal of common people—their aspirations, way of life, relationships, worries, and diversions. The people who populate this world are woodcutters, potters, common soldiers, peddlers, petty officials, shamans, and peripheral figures such as gamblers, jugglers, and asobi . No pretense of refinement or so-phistication enters songs delineating the folk life. Rather, life is presented realistically, in all its beauty and ugliness, joy and heartache, fulfillment and frustration. Even animals—cows, snails, grasshoppers, dragonflies, butterflies, and lice—as well as such mundane objects as charcoal containers, washtubs, hooks, and flails—all subjects far outside the poetic lexicon and canon of waka —provide poetic inspiration to the singers of these imayo .

Humorous, roguish, and sometimes satirical elements play a vital role, as do folk wisdom and wit. At times songs are used as vehicles for critical commentary about contemporary society. The observations are usually only suggestive, but they nevertheless provide rare glimpses into the common people's perspective on some of the changes that were occurring at the end of the Heian period. These poetic sketches leave one with the impression of having unrolled an emaki and viewed a human landscape teeming with activity. It is significant that the majority of these songs belong to the categories of shiku no kamiuta and niku no kamiuta , where the influence of folk song is strongest.

Of Men and Women

The Ryojin hisho poets' unflagging fascination with human beings turns the anthology into a portrait gallery decked with realistic sketches of men and women of Heian society, usually at its lower levels. Significantly, a number of names or nicknames of people who appear in this folk world are quite esoteric, and were probably restricted to certain specific social groups; their meanings may have been obscure even to Heian citizens, not to mention a modern audience. This is particularly true in the case of courtesans and gamblers—the outcasts. Some of the pictures we encounter are sketched with empathy, but more often they are caricatures highlighting human foibles. In any event, a keen sense of observation and awareness of surroundings is palpable in these songs.

What we hear, though, is not the personal, individual lyric voice of the Heian commoner in general, but rather that of the professional singers—miko, asobi , and kugutsu —who assume the voices of others, filtering, interpreting, and stylizing. Since the singers adopt the posture of the object they describe, we often encounter a shift in the lyric voice from the third person to the first person. Hence, the proxy or representational function and contribution of the female singers is of critical importance to any appraisal of these songs.

In the following shiku no kamiuta , the physical strength of a wood-chopper and the rigor of his work are vividly captured. The focus of the song, however, appears to be the fearlessness of the protagonist, who dares to challenge authority. If we assume that songs of this nature were composed by asobi or other such women, the attraction expressed here toward masculine virility and indomitability takes on a suggestive overtone as well:

Another song draws a group picture of woodchoppers, with a special eye turned on a novice among them:

The setting of this song—the western part of the capital near the Katsura River, which during the Heian period hosted a fair number of courtesans—suggests that the speaker is one such woman and that the woodcutters are making a difficult trip to find some diversion.^[3] The young woodcutter, then, is not only new in his profession but also new to amorous adventure—making the asobi's attention on him all the more suggestive.

Ryojin hisho frequently features men who seek physical enjoyment. In the following song, also set in the western outskirts of the Heian capital, the male protagonist is shown toying with the idea of having fun with women of pleasure—here suggested by the names of birds, often epithets for prostitutes:^[4]

On the surface, the following three songs deal with catching shrimp and small fish. In reality, however, they are talking about men chasing women of questionable reputation. This becomes clear when we realize that Otsu along the Setagawa River, which flows from Lake Biwa, was a well-known area populated by courtesans.^[5] But in any case, the entertain-ment context in which asobi performed these imayo songs for amorous provocation justifies taking songs of this kind other than literally.

This song, which seemingly is about a small sweetfish (ayu ), may well describe the plight of asobi exploited by their customers:

The following shiku no kamiuta may be about a man's sexual impotence, as symbolized by a dull sickle,^[7] and his repeated inability to make sexual conquests. Here, the kusa (grass) suggests women, the objects of his unsuccessful amorous pursuits:

In contrast to the men about town in search of women, the next song narrates the farce of a young bridegroom who gets cold feet at the prospect of matrimony. The speaker plays the role of a village gossip, who in so many cultures epitomizes folk humor at its broadest; she does not fail to relay all the details of local scandal and thus titillate the curiosity of her audience:

During the Heian period, on the two nights just before the wedding a bridegroom was expected to visit his bride at her home under the cover of night. Only at the end of the third night, after the wedding ceremony, was the marriage made public, thus freeing the man from the inconvenience of nocturnal visits.^[10] In this song the young bridegroom, knowing what is in store for him after the third night, beats a hasty retreat. The repetition of the verb ending -keru , used to report events, accentuated by the exclamatory particle wa , heightens the dramatic effect of the story.

A good marriage, and an upward one at that, is, however, the greatest dream of many parents—then as now. The following shiku no kamiuta voices this aspiration, focusing on the beautiful daughter of a lowly potter:

Provincial governors were officials dispatched by the central government to oversee the political and economic affairs of outlying regions. Toward the end of the Heian period, they frequently remained behind after the term of office was over. Gradually they emerged as regional economic potentates, amassing wealth in land and estates in the countryside, away from the watchful eyes of the central government. During the insei period, moreover, such men began to exercise political clout as they allied them-selves with the warrior classes and gained a say in governmental affairs.^[12] In the eyes of commoners, locked tightly within the class hierarchy of their day and lacking the economic means to escape it, the rising fortunes of the new classes must have been the object of envy. Marriage alliance, so often exploited by the aristocracy, was surely seen as a tempting way to climb out of poverty and low social status.

The onerous task of marrying a daughter is expressed in the following song, in which a mother-in-law faces a list of fashion preferences given by her future son-in-law, probably to be referred to in choosing wedding gifts for him. Presented in a combined dialogue-catalog form, the list reveals the rather finicky and presumptuous taste of the young groom. The song therefore pokes fun at the fastidious fashion consciousness and extravagance of the upper classes:

The human interest in Ryojin hisho does not, of course, attach only to songs about men. In fact, commentary on women is just as strong, some-times overriding the interest shown for men. We have already seen this in the songs about asobi and miko ; in addition, a number of songs expose the unseemly side of these women's lives, behavior, or deportment. But there is more humor than critique in the songs as a whole, perhaps because of the special relationships between the female singers/poets and their subject matter. The following one, for example, paints a humorous portrait of a young woman:

This song, most likely teasing a miko , plays on the word kami , which can mean either god or hair. Despite the conjunction in the first line of the words kami and matsuru (to worship), the kami turns out to be the woman's various hairdos—some of which are less than respectable. Especially, considering that during the Heian period straight hair was the fashion for women, the heroine's "curly," "frowzy" hairstyles suggest a certain freakishness on her part. At least two levels of wordplay are discernible in the word tezutsugami (an inept god). As a compound of tezutsu (clumsy or messy) and gami (kami , hair or god), the word suggests "the inept god in her messy hair." But tezutsugami can also be broken into te (hand), zutsu (or tsutsu , from tsuku , to be divinely possessed), and gami (god), resulting literally in "a hand possessed by a clumsy god"—an oblique reference to the woman's lack of skill. Thus the single word tezutsugami can be taken in an expanded sense to mean the sloppiness

and ineptitude of the woman as a miko . Last but not least, a walking god (arukigami ) in the soles—that is, a god who excites the woman to saunter around—implies yet further degradation of divinities. All this deliberate sport with the sacred fills out the humor in the song, while doubling as a commentary on a woman who deviates from the classical role of virtuous female—well groomed, good at sewing, and homebound.

Miko form an important topic in Ryojin hisho , being the subject of a large number of songs. In one, the speaker is captivated by the sight of a miko in an ecstatic state; but the speaker's attention focuses on her personal appearance, which provokes an awed disdain: her hair is false, and the ceremonial robes she wears are not really hers. Even so, the miko is perfectly capable of carrying out her ritual possession. In the detail of the long tear in her robe, even a hint of eroticism is suggested:

Here again, the phrase kami wa tsuki gami functions on two levels. On one hand, it refers to the trancelike state of the miko as she becomes divinely possessed; on the other, it is a reference to her wig, worn for dramatic effect in her performance. Likewise, the phrase kinu wa karl ginu has a double suggestiveness. Her borrowed hunting robe (kari ginu ), the ordinary court costume for males, evokes the image of a transsexual, signifying her asexuality, and hence her supramundane power. Yet it may indicate her poverty as well. This complex dimension of a miko's existence between spirituality and profanity seems to be the source of her magnetism.

In the following song, the promiscuity of a miko living near a shrine is described quite openly. The words sasakusa (bamboo grass) and koma (horse) are used allegorically to refer to women and men, respectively, with the image of the horse eating the bamboo grass suggestive of erotic relationships. The woman's sexuality is made explicit in the last couplet:

Interest in the erotic life of miko continues in the next song, which expresses unreciprocated desire. As this song makes clear, the shrines were often sites for affairs between miko and men on pilgrimage—this time, specifically, at the Sumiyoshi Shrine:

The song makes skillful use of the pivot word kake(ru ) (to hang or lock), which links omoikake (yearning) to kakegane (metal latches). It brings the tension between the miko and the amorous man into high relief: his strong yearning is bolted by the latch she uses to block the man's advance.

The topic of miko around the Sumiyoshi Shrine appears again in an-other song, marking the fact that the shrine was indeed a site for miko's double lives:

The song makes humorous use of the word nyotai , which can mean either "woman's body" or "empress." This double meaning is reinforced by the honorific verb owashimasu (to reside), which seemingly refers to an em-press but in fact points to the miko/prostitute .

The following song may be the bantering of a miko around the shrine area, cajoling a male pilgrim into a tryst with the word iro (color, but also erotic love). Here, the double lives of both miko and pilgrims come to the forefront:

We see a picture of women luring men into amorous adventure in the next song as well. The divinities mentioned are presumably aliases of these women, and it is in this unlikely link between the sacred and the profane that the humor of the song lies:

The following song is more somber, depicting the essentially desolate and lonely nature of a miko's life. It could well be one such woman's own lament:

Sometimes Ryojin hisho songs are about young girls or courtesans inexperienced in male-female relationships, and so provide words of warning. Here, the image of an early spring bracken hints at affection on the part of speaker for the young woman:

Within the poetic setting of the Ryojin hisho , where double entendre is plentiful, the following song cannot simply be taken as an innocuous list of foodstuffs. Rather, it may be another song of erotic suggestion.^[17] Here, the names of fruits and vegetables seem to refer to women who may have had amorous relationships with Seita, whom we met in song no. 370, a man of few sexual ventures, and largely unsuccessful ones. Since the song mentions a shrine, these women may be miko :

Humor plays an essential part in the treatment of women in Ryojin hisho The following song jokes about a homely woman who has lost the chance for marriage. Even so, the speaker may have his own secret designs on her, indicated by the word tane (seeds), meaning children:

The bustling marketplace scene in the next song is reminiscent in its earthy and animated quality of the folk characters that have appeared in other Ryojin hisho songs. The scene takes place in Suzaku Avenue, the border between the main part of the capital and its outskirts, where peddlers and shoppers swarm:

Ohara was especially famous for its women peddlers, called oharame (women of Ohara), who came to the capital carrying bundles of firewood on their heads, hawking their goods as they walked the city streets.^[20] Their voices must have contributed to the song's noisy scene. Humor is provided in the last line, where the word kine can be taken to mean either a wooden mallet or a shrine-maiden. On a literal level, then, the line describes a mountain monk asking if anyone is interested in trading for his wooden mallet; yet he may in fact be making a proposition of an entirely different sort. The market, in short, is not a place where only material commodities are exchanged. In a sense, the song serves as a fitting backdrop for the dramas that have been played out individually among the folk characters of the songs, conveying a sense of energy, multifariousness, and travesty of the folk life in the Ryojin hisho .

Love

Love has long been a prominent theme in the Japanese poetic tradition. Ryojin hisho is no exception. In the anthology, love songs are concentrated in the "miscellaneous" section of the shiku no kamiuta and in the untitled sections of the niku no kamiuta . None is found in the homon uta .

The love songs of Ryojin hisho deal exclusively with the love affairs of commoners and those on the fringes of Heian society, addressing in particular emotions experienced on an instinctual or physical level and ex-pressed with little reservation. The speakers are most frequently women, including courtesans, who tell of their desires, frustrations, vexations, and fears, as well as their flirtatious moods. Most of the songs are presented in an extremely fluid vernacular, which forms a sharp contrast to the homon uta , with their dominantly public, declarative mode of address.

In the performative context of asobi and other entertainers, the songs may have functioned to instruct the audience about the different kinds of love these women experienced. They may also have served as protests against inconstancy, cruelty, and desertion—all part of the love experience of these women. The graphic descriptions of sensual love likely aroused and satisfied erotic impulses of their male listeners as well, which in many cases, of course, was the entertainers' ultimate professional goal.

The next few songs represent a light mood of flirtation, which is achieved largely through repetition of similar phrases, alliteration, and the use of emphatic particles—rhetorical devices that in some cases lend an incantatory resonance as well:

A kindred sense of amorous dalliance dominates the following song, which deals with a successful consummation by a pair of lovers, symbolized by the man's rush hat (ayaigasa ) dropped into the river (the woman):^[22]

The artistry of this song is delightful. First, the echo of the verb ending -nikeri in ochinikeri and akenikeri creates a pleasing, refrainlike effect. This rhythmic cadence is then underscored by the alliterative pairing of ai and ayai in the first line, kamogawa and kawa in the third, and sarasara and sayake in the last line. To cap it off, an end rhyme is contrived by the repetition of ni in the third and fourth lines, and an internal rhyme is gained from the repetition of to in the fourth line. This intricate poetic craftsmanship gives the song a lively sense of movement.

The following two songs are rare instances in which the lyric voice is male, both expressing an erotic yearning for a woman. In the first song, this yearning—metaphorically conveyed through the image of a small flower—is one that cannot be gratified by sight only. In similar fashion, in the second song the presumably male speaker vocalizes his sexual fantasy by identifying himself with creeping and sinewy wild vines. His strong desire, he says, is as inevitable as a karmalike destiny (sukuse )—an exaggerated claim that produces a hint of whimsical humor:

Not all Ryojin hisho love songs are so upbeat, however; some articulate agonized feelings about unresponsive lovers. One such case is the following example, in which an intense desire to fuse with one's beloved is voiced, underscored by the vehement accusation a young woman levels at her feeble lover. The same expression as in the preceding song, kiru to mo kizamu to mo (to try to cut or to chop), is used here, providing thematic

affinity through the lexical repetition. It is also a song of a lover's defiance against outsiders' meddling, especially that of parents or neighbors—also a favorite theme in Man'yoshu and saibara songs:^[23]

In the following two songs we are reminded of the more formal waka , in terms of both tone and poetic artistry. The first one captures a pensive mood grounded in a longing that knows no bounds, reaching out for the object of desire as far as Michinoku Prefecture—virtually the end of the world in Heian times:

Skillfully integrating waka and the folk song tradition, this song achieves layers of meaning by playing on pivot words. In the first line, michi is linked to omoi and noku to produce two phrases: omoi wa michi(ru) ("the heart is full") and michinoku (the name of a province). Then in the second line, suru is connected to both koi and ga , resulting in koi wa suru (to love) and suruga (the name of a province). This technique gives the first half of the song a waka- like sense of semantic control and subtlety. The second half, however, is totally free of rhetorical contrivances; the result is a straightforward and unreserved voicing of the speaker's state of mind.

In the second song, the focus is on a single-shelled abalone, which serves as a metaphor for the one-sided longing of a lover:

A handful of love songs in Ryojin hisho are uninhibited invitations to lovemaking. They evoke banquet scenes where unbridled revelry loosens erotic impulses, such as in the following song, in which an overture for a sexual union is rendered in a quasi-cataloging style:

The act of lovemaking is sometimes described explicitly, as in this song:

Even the reluctance of lovers parting can be expressed in frank physical terms:

As in both waka and folk songs, the theme of unrequited love stands out in Ryojin hisho . Invariably, the pain of love—loneliness, regret, or

the tragedy of betrayal—is expressed from the standpoint of women. The love relationships described in Ryojin hisho usually end in estrangement, with promises more often broken than kept. This group of songs represents perhaps the most intense emotional outpouring in Ryojin hisho .

This song, though reminiscent of no. 462, is more forthright in expressing the lover's desertion; the image of the rugged, wave-battered seashore is particularly evocative of the harshness of such an experience.

In the next song, as the speaker traces the flow of time from past to future, the void in her life created by her lover's leaving is brought into sharp relief. Without his visit, time hangs heavy on her hands, and life is dismal, drained of purpose:

In another song we see the loneliness, shame, and muted agony of a woman whose love affair went wrong. Here, as in the last song, the speaker emphasizes the passage of time, in this case on the smaller scale of one night, and reveals the psychological shifts of her mind—from stoic patience in the early evening to frustration at dawn. Her feeling of abandonment is set off by the concrete image of the "desolate bed," alluding to the sexual nature of her love relationship:

Some of the betrayed women in Ryojin hisho songs do not suffer passively; they vent their anger. Songs of protest, like the following example, give a sharper edge to the anthology's spirited love songs. The speaker here may be a courtesan who lays out a plan of revenge for a fellow courtesan wronged by her lover:

An element of humor is added to the song with the word keka (repentance), originally a Buddhist term referring to a rite of penitence.

The theme of jilted love receives unconventional treatment in another song, one of the most beloved in Ryojin hisho . The speaker is an asobi of unusual pluck, who thrashes her fickle lover with a series of curses:

The song centers on three images—a three-horned devil (symbol of ugliness as well as terror), a bird, and a floating weed—all non- or subhuman

entities.^[27] Vitality and power are successively diminished, from the relative mobility of the devil to the total passivity of a drifting weed. Since the uki in ukikusa (drifting duckweed) also implies melancholy or sadness, the speaker wills that to be part of her lover's lot. The poignancy of the song lies in the fact that the speaker, in her diatribe, projects her own feared destiny onto her lover: loss of beauty, privation, and loneliness from an uprooted existence.^[28]

In practical terms, some of the love songs in Ryojin hisho must have been created to entice male customers into the arms of asobi . In addition, songs such as nos. 338 and 339, discussed above, may be intended to declare the dignity of these women, even though they are basically at the mercy of their patrons. Despite moments of amorous elation, on the whole the songs communicate the harsh reality of love relationships—their risks, unpredictability, and pain—especially for asobi . The lot of these women, we learn, was ultimately one of deep sadness.

Any discussion of love in Ryojin hisho would be incomplete without mention of the following song, at once the best known and one of the most controversial in the anthology:

The controversy involves the identity of the speaker and the meaning of the words asobi and tawabure . Some say that the song is an old asobi's lament over her life spent in sin, while others see it as the wistful reflection of an old person about his or her own life.^[29] When we consider the song in the context of women performers and their professional life, which often included prostitution, the meaning is much clearer: here we en-counter the nostalgia of an asobi who, though limited in her entertaining activities by her age, still finds the music and performance (symbolized by the young children's frolicking) exciting and magical. Her life of flirtation and pursuit of love will end in time, but the delight she finds in songs and entertainment will continue to live on.

Old Age

The subject of old age, like love, is a recurrent theme in Ryojin hisho . Fear and sadness at its inevitable approach seize the imagination of the imayo poets, stimulating them to produce compelling songs. Their per-

ceptions are rendered in various manners—sometimes frivolous, some-times doleful, sometimes sardonic. Altogether, however, they present old age as an unavoidable and problematic part of life, especially for asobi , whose livelihood depends on youth and beauty. As a consequence, the lyric voice in the songs about old age, as in those about love, is predominantly female.

Lament—one of the most predictable responses to old age—is the subject of the following song. Here the inevitability of human aging is contrasted with the power of self-renewal in nature, seen in the image of the moon, which, though ever changing, is each month born anew:

In another song, the same concern with old age, represented by facial wrinkles—the "waves beating on the shore of the forehead"—takes the form of an envious look back at one's youthful years:

The poetic complexity of this song hinges on wordplay involving two phrases, oi no nami (waves of old age) and waka no ura (young bay; also the proper name Waka Bay).^[30] On the literal level, the phrases may simply describe the waves breaking against the beach of Waka Bay. But on a metaphorical level, they dramatize the contrast between the youth of the bay and human old age. In addition, the engo relationships among the words nami (waves), iso (beach), and ura (bay) bind the song into a tight unit, with each word anticipating and referring to the others.

The feeling of helplessness at the aging process is expressed in the following song about an old barrier-keeper. An ironic tone is achieved through the discrepancy between the guard's power to ward off unwelcome intruders and his inability to avert the stealthy encroachment of old age:

The pathos of the barrier-keeper's situation is enhanced by the word seki (barrier), the sixfold repetition of which seems to echo the futility of combating the invisible but unavoidable assault of time.

Indeed, the effect of time and old age can be devastating. It is felt most acutely in human relationships, especially between men and women. While fickleness may cause some heartache, far more destructive is the havoc that time works on a woman's beauty, and consequently on men's love for her. In the following song, the uncared-for mirror, which was called "the soul of women" and which in ancient times needed periodic polishing to keep it from tarnishing,^[32] suggests the sad reality of an aged woman, once beautiful. It is also an apt image to convey human reflection on the intricate relationships between women, beauty, youth, and the heart, all of which are subject to the workings of time:

The fact that all created beings and man-made objects inevitably disintegrate may be the theme of the following catalog song, which evokes a strong sense of mutability, mujokan .^[33] But as the last-line clincher in the Japanese original indicates, the most pitiful case is that of childless court ladies in old age:

The word shikibu in this song is a general term for court ladies or ladies-in-waiting, but it is also suggestive of particular women—Izumi Shikibu, Murasaki Shikibu, or Sei Shonagon, the most illustrious of the Heian female court attendants. The legends depicting Sei Shonagon as a decrepit old nun begging favors from courtiers in her old age seem especially pertinent here.^[34] The unexpected juxtaposition of the ruined buildings and the old court lady is jarringly powerful, conveying both the ruthlessness and power of time, which makes no distinction between sentient human beings and inanimate objects.

Old age is not always a topic of gloomy sadness in Ryojin hisho . In the following song, an old man supporting himself on a staff is perceived as grimly funny, though at the heart of the remark an aversion to old age may well be lurking:

This catalog song, like the one above, jolts us with the sudden transition from small, negligible curved items to a human being—which in effect objectifies the old man, placing him on the same level as the other animate and inanimate things listed.

A much lighter, tongue-in-cheek treatment of age in women appears in the following song, which, depending on the gender and age of the speaker or singer, can have several interpretations—self-praise, bantering self-mockery, humorous jesting at women, or disdain for the fickleness of men:

Wit and Humor

The wit and humor of many Ryojin hisho songs are truly a delight. Concentrated mostly in the shiku no kamiuta , such songs involve various wordplays, compact aphorisms, and, sometimes, sharp comments on how the world works. Structurally, most of the songs take the catalog format and function as revealing guides to what their authors found pleasing, exciting, ridiculous, or surprising.

The objects of these observations, however, are not those usually found in waka ; instead we encounter ordinary and comparatively drab images drawn from the everyday world of commoners. Ryojin hisho poets, in fact, seemed to shun refined or elegant images; they found the common-place uncommon, the ordinary extraordinary, and the seemingly meaningless full of meaning. This break from waka practice reveals an important aspect of the Ryojin hisho poets' attitude toward life: they could find joy and beauty even in the smallest things in nature and in the most insignificant facets of human activity. The alert sense of perception, im-mediacy, and flair for waggishness that these songs demonstrate gives credence to the description of the anthology as a Heian depository of commoners' exercises in witticism, ingenuity, and poetic sensibility.

The delight in finding little equivalences in people's immediate living environment is characteristic of these songs. The poet (re)discovers for us the possibilities of things we would likely overlook as interesting objects of poetic perception:

In pointing to the shi letter as something straight—an ingenious perception—and comparing it to more tangible items, the wit of the poet flashes.

The next two companion songs also reveal an elevated pleasure in

ordinary things. This time, the scope moves beyond nature to take in the human realm:

These songs are refreshing precisely because of the unexpected yoking of human elements to a list of objects of slim significance. Notice, incidentally, the continuing interest in miko and other performing artists, a sign of their importance to commoners' diversion and entertainment.

The same technique of juxtaposing human and natural elements is used to explore a more poetically inclined topic:

The abrupt and unexpected introduction of human love in the midst of the list of natural images suspends the smooth flow of association and offers a new context and way of looking at the power of such unconventional love—as something arresting, refreshing, and free.

Another song achieves a similar jolting poetic effect by inserting a

human element amid a list of things all natural. Here, the unexpected reference to courtesans brings such women into sharp relief as the focal point of the song, thus delivering a surprising twist. Indeed, the skill with which this is accomplished suggests that the cataloging technique required considerable imagination and went far beyond a simple mechanical enumeration of similar images and thoughts:

As we have seen, some catalog songs begin with a harmless list of things, and only toward the end—usually in the last line—does one realize that the song is not an innocuous compendium after all, but a vehicle of curt messages. In this way folk wit, wisdom, and sometimes satire come in to teach—and outsmart—the audience, whose mental reaction to the punch lines approaches "sudden enlightenment." The following famous example capitalizes on the technique, in conjunction with wordplay based on homonyms:

The song is built on puns on the word fushi (knot or knob), as set forth in the first line. By the end of the third line, however, fushi is no longer a noun, but a form of the verb fusu (to lie down); it is in fact linked to the word yarnabushi (yama + fushi ), which literally means "those who lie down on the mountains." This image of rugged yamabushi on the mountain is then contrasted with the gentler image of fawns resting (fusu ) in

the valley. Yet the most striking turn of the song comes in the last line, where an old man, having failed to win the favor of a young woman, lies in bed alone. His "lying down" (fushi ) is neither spiritual, like that of the yarnabushi , nor natural, like that of the fawns. Thus the song ridicules an old man who has passed his season but is still preoccupied with things of the flesh.

Sharp observation of the disparities, contradictions, and absurdities of human life is apparent in the next example. In its forcefulhess and directness, this song is perhaps the most striking of its kind:

The characters in the song are far from exemplary, though they ought to be. For that reason, they are here the objects of caricature, with revulsion at their lack of self-knowledge the main theme. Like the preceding song, this one condemns old men with inordinate sexual desires, probably revealing the female singers' loathing detestation of old age.^[38]

The time-honored theme of waka , autumn, also receives poetic attention in the following shiku no kamiuta :

The clappers and fulling blocks were well-established waka images evoking autumnal melancholy. The clappers were mentioned in Man'yoshu ,^[39] but their first use in this specific sense is found in Goshuishu , poem no. 369. Since then, along with deer and insects, they have been staple symbols for

the sad mood of autumn. The sound of the fulling block was first used by Ki no Tsurayuki in a poem (no. 187) included in the autumn section of Shuishu , and thereafter became almost synonymous with both autumn and the longing felt for a loved one away from home.^[40] In the present song, however, these images, set as they are in the commoner's working life, have a different aesthetic effect, conveying something close to the existential loneliness that seems to pervade all sentient beings.

Several songs in Ryojin hisho display a refined sense of beauty equal to that of any waka , with the larger poetic space provided by the shiku no kamiuta form giving more room for imagination. For example:

The most radical departure from the decorum of waka and an outstanding example of folk humor is found in the following shiku no kamiuta about lice. Not only the images but also the verbs used indicate a playful mind at work:

Usually, amakudaru refers to the descent of the heavenly kami to earth, as in the well-known case of Ninigi no Mikoto, the grandson of the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu, reported in Kojiki .^[41] And the phrase mei owaru (a partial Japanese reading of myoju ) is often used in the Buddhist sutras to allude to the death of an illustrious personage.^[42] The humor comes from the use of these lofty verbs to describe such lowly creatures as lice.

On the whole, the wit found in Ryojin hisho relies on comparatively down-to-earth perceptions, whether these involve natural phenomena,

fellow human beings, or society as a whole. What is operative in this exercise is an analytical power avidly engaged in sorting out, distinguishing, or comparing objects close at hand. It then classifies and puts them in order, usually in catalog form. This technique, perfected by Sei Shonagon in Makura no soshi to preserve her perceptions, found a poetic heir in Ryojin hisho .

Signs of the Times

The chaotic political developments in the latter part of the Heian period were transforming Japanese society in a manner inconceivable even for the main agents of the changes. The warrior class, never before a major force in shaping Japanese politics or culture, now became the prime mover. Unprecedented armed conflicts among the warrior clans, unlike localized power struggles at court, dragged even commoners into the fray. Military control led to the replacement not only of the political system but also of basic ways of life and outlook, creating a whole new array of values. It was a time of massive social upheaval; and for many, the world really seemed to be falling apart.

Contemporary literature, such as Hojoki (The Ten-Foot-Square Hut, 1212) by Kamo no Chomei (1155-1216) and Heike monogatari , reflected these convulsive currents. Ryojin hisho songs also capture the disturbing symptoms of the changing world, helping their readers understand what it was like to be part of history in the making. Unlike the prose chronicles, the contents of Ryojin hisho offer only a glimpse of the new signs and mood, but they do make it very clear that ominous and disturbing shifts were well under way.

What caught the attention of the Ryojin hisho poets most was the undeniable presence of warriors in Heian society. Their wealth, life-style, and power are viewed with mixed feelings of envy, wonder, and occasional derision. In one example, we find a survey of the kinds of diversions that warriors enjoyed. The song's speaker, obviously an outsider and not of the warrior class, is awestruck by the spectacles unfolding in the compounds of a warlord's mansion—the riches and power evident in the large number of horses and the garishness of the unusual entertainment:

RH 352

The acrobats (jushi ) described in the song were associated with sarugaku players. Their repertoire included juggling, gymnastics, and magical tricks; colorful costumes as well as superb performing skills contributed to their popular appeal.^[44] During the Heian period, acrobats were often invited to perform at the banquets of nobles. When the warriors began to gain power, the jushi became an essential part of their entertainment program as well.^[45] Another noteworthy sight is the male shaman dancer. Given the fact that miko were ordinarily women, a male shaman impersonating a female would be an aberration. Through the speaker, who may represent the collective attitude of the common people, the song expresses a sense of uneasiness tinted with wonder about the warriors and what they represent.

The impression that warriors make on their onlookers is also the subject of the next song, in catalog form, which uses the same formulaic expression we encountered in chapters 5 and 6, konomu mono . The detailed inventory of the splendid regalia and arms reveals a fascination with the warriors' physical appearance on the part of the speaker, who may be someone familiar with the taste and ways of the warriors:

The dark blue (kon ) was a color used for the outfits of low-ranking warriors and was consciously avoided by Heian aristocrats, never appearing in works such as Genji monogatari to describe the nobility's clothes.^[47] The fact that it tops the list in the present song clearly signifies a new aesthetic taste ushered in by the warrior class.

The power and spirited life of the rising military classes are suggested in the following song, undergirded by the playful suggestion that, to keep up with the times, one should join the warrior culture:

Some songs in Ryojin hisho confirm the indisputable arrival of warriors in Heian society by listing the Shinto shrines dedicated to the gods related to warfare. The following two companion pieces, for example, using the Osaka Barrier in Omi as the demarcation line, divide the Japanese country in two, east and west, and suggest how far the sphere of the warriors' activities and power had spread—to include virtually the whole of the country. The shrines, in a sense, embody the mythico-political history of Japan, which is replete with military expeditions and conquests. The first song enumerates warrior shrines in the east:

The main god of Kashima Shrine in Ibaraki Prefecture is Take mikazuchi no Mikoto, who helped Emperor Jinmu during his conquest of the Kumano region; his sword is a special object of veneration at the shrine.^[48] Katori Shrine in the same prefecture enshrines Futsu nushi no Mikoto, another god who helped Jinmu in his expedition through the Yamato basin. These two shrines, Kashima and Katori, were once the most powerful shrines in the eastern part of Japan.^[49] Located in Nagano Prefecture, the main divinity of Suwa no Miya Shrine is Take mina kata no Kami, who settled in Suwa after being defeated by Take mikazuchi no o no Kami.^[50] The Hira Myojin (Shirahige Shrine) in Shiga Prefecture venerates Saruta hiko no Okami, who, after serving as the vanguard of Ninigi no Mikoto on his descent to earth, settled in the Lake Biwa area.^[51] The song's Su Shrine is in fact Awa Shrine in Chiba Prefecture, where Ame no futotama no Mikoto, who served the Sun Goddess Amaterasu in controlling the Inbe (the Shinto

ceremonial lineage group), is worshiped.^[52] Otaka Myojin, or simply Otaka Shrine, is located nearby in Tai no Kuchi. ^[53] Yatsurugi, another name for the Atsuta Shrine in Nagoya, houses the sword that Yamato Takeru supposedly used during his expedition to the eastern region. ^[54] Tado no Miya, or Tado Shrine, in Mie Prefecture worships Amatsu hikone no Mikoto, a son of Amaterasu, and for this reason has a close relationship with the Ise Shrine. ^[55]

The next song lists warrior shrines in the west, beginning in the Chugoku area:

Ippon Chusan is in fact Kibitsu Shrine, located on Mount Chusan in Okayama Prefecture, where the general Okibitsu hiko no Mikoto pacified provincial disturbances during the reign of Emperor Sujin (r. 97-30 B. C.).^[56] Next, the song makes due note of Itsukushima Shrine, the tutelary shrine of the Taira clan. To the east, in Himeji in Hyogo Prefecture, the Hiromine Shrine worships Susano o no Mikoto as its main god,^[57] while Sosanjo (the Idatehyoju Shrine) has two warrior gods: Idategami (the god of arrow and shield) and Hyojugami (the god of arms).^[58] Iwaya is Iwaya Shrine, also located in Hyogo Prefecture, whose main divinities are Izanami and Susano o no Mikoto.^[59] The next two shrines, Sumiyoshi and Nishi no Miya (Hirota Shrine), likewise in Hyogo Prefecture, are grouped together as centers of veneration for the gods who assisted Empress Jingu (r. 201-69) on her legendary expedition to Korea.^[60]

Different from the preceding songs, the following one dwells specifically on an individual warrior's achievement; he is Minamoto Yoshiie (1039-1106), popularly known as Hachiman Taro.^[61] The eldest son of Yoriyoshi, Yoshiie fought with his father in the Early Nine Years War (1051-62), which marked the beginning of the Minamoto ascendancy in the eastern provinces. He also became a hero in another war, the Later Three Years War (1083-87), crushing the rebellion of Kiyohara Iehira (d.

1087).^[62] In the present song, the allusion to the eagle exalts both Yoshiie's military prowess and the Minamoto's increasing prominence:

The Hogen Disturbance was not only the tragedy of the imperial family but also a turning point in Japanese history.^[63] Its victim, Emperor Sutoku, seems especially to have impressed himself on the popular mind, as his destiny was so extraordinary and appalling. The next song, which is considered to allude to Sutoku, uses a warped pine tree to convey his consuming grief in Sanuki, the place of his exile:

Notice the play on the word naosu (to straighten), which is found in both naoshirna (straight island) and naosazaruran (seems unable to be straight-ened). The imagery is a metaphor for the depth and intensity of Sutoku's unredressable grudge against his brother, Go-Shirakawa—ironically the recorder of the song.

Signs of the changing times were found not only in sensational events involving the highborn, but also in the lives of the commoners. The troubled state of the country and apprehension about its future are ex-pressed in the following song about a young man drafted into the army. Scenes such as this were likely all too common as the country found itself swept into the Genpei War:

The Inari shrines in general were associated with rice cultivation, and the one at Fushimi, mentioned here, was the center of such shrines—the core of the life of farmers. If the son of the shrine priest were drafted, especially the eldest one who would continue the priestly line, the situation in the capital must have been grave indeed. The fact that he was taken away at dawn makes the situation all the more fearful and ominous.

The civil war, which necessitated moving soldiers from one region to another, provided the Heian residents with opportunities to learn about manners and customs other than their own. But the cultures outside the capital—especially those to the east—were usually perceived as unpalatable or even obiectionable and thus often became the object of derision. The two following songs betray this attitude of disdain. In the first one, contempt for the reprehensible behavior of a common soldier from the east (Azuma) is highlighted, focusing on his violation of the basics of marriage protocol:

The dark blue (kon ) color of the man's cloak and the man's proposal of marriage in exchange for a mean article of clothing convey the scandalized feelings of the ceremonious Heian capital residents and their sense of outrage not just at boorish easterners but at warriors in general.

In the second song, the strange customs of the east are on view as the speaker comments scornfully on the aberrant performances of male miko :

Yet even in the capital, things are not as they once were. New trends, not always desirable, prevail. And what happens in the capital, whether it be frivolous or serious, is interpreted as an index of the state of the nation as a whole. The following two companion songs detail the latest fashion vogue in the capital—the disturbing symptom of an age steeped in flimsy fads while serious political crises brew:

The basic feature of this list of trendy fashion items for men is the kowasozoku , meaning "stiffened costume." It emphasized an angular, hard look achieved by starching and padding the clothes.^[67] The result was a striking contrast to the naesozoku (softer costume), characterized by rounded and flowing lines, which had been popular among courtiers up to mid-Heian times. On the whole, the new men's fashion reflects a shift from the effusive taste of the aristocracy to the more stern, controlled, and action-oriented functionalism of the warrior class. These disturbing trends arise again in the second song, concerning women's fashion:

During the Heian period, it was customary for women to shave their natural eyebrows and draw on thick ones on the forehead. The fad laid out here, however, stresses a very thin line like a willow branch—obviously a new style.^[68] The meaning of shioyuki is unclear, but it may refer to courtesans.^[69] The Omi women are likely asobi or kugutsu who settled around the Setagawa River in the vicinity of Lake Biwa in Omi.^[70] "Women in male costumes" may be shirabyoshi , women who danced in men's clothing. On the whole, the fashionable items for women outlined here are marked by affectation and sham; those who wore such things would hardly have been considered commendable or of good breeding. The flourishing of various types of female entertainers is also notable. Most striking is the image in the last line of nuns armed with halberds parading through the streets of the capital, which certainly suggests great social unrest and insecurity.

In another song, the deteriorating situation of women during these times finds expression in the figure of a nun. Despite her assertion that she has respectable relatives (all male) to rely on, she is obviously in reduced circumstances. It is possible that songs such as these were originally beggars' songs:

Some Ryojin hisho songs register the conditions of hard-pressed families in the lower classes. In the following song—one of the longest in Ryojin hisho —we find a grievous protest raised against the calloushess of the elites in Heian society, through the lyric voice of a mother wailing about her broken family. The speaker of the poem, probably a female shaman at Wakamiya Shrine in the Iwashimizu Hachiman Shrine complex, pours out her woes to the kami she serves:^[72]

The old mother's acute sense of the wrongs inflicted on her family by the powerful represents a social indictment rarely seen in the poetry of the times.

Another indication in Ryojin hisho of the unstable social atmosphere that then prevailed was the depiction of gamblers. Although as a poetic topic gamblers have appeared in literary works from Man'yoshu on, they are featured six times in Ryojin hisho , which suggests their conspicuous presence at least among the singers of these songs.^[74] Their uprooted an marginal life-style comes to light in the following song, in which a mother prays for her son's success in gambling. Given that in the late Heian period the government took action to quash gambling as a socially disruptive activity, arresting bands of gamblers wholesale on the streets of the capital,^[75] the mother's concern takes on a compelling significance:

The following song deals with the hidden area of gamblers' practices and preferences, phrased in the familiar formula konomu mono , which we have seen used for the esoteric world of asobi, hijiri , and warriors as well. The list concerns dice playing; in addition, several skillful gamblers are named, likely by aliases:

In the next song, too, the gamblers mentioned are probably identified by aliases. Interestingly, most of their names have a Buddhist ring to them, representing another striking combination of sacred and profane in Ryojin hisho . While we cannot know whether these were assumed or real names, some contemporary sources suggest that priest-gamblers did exist during the Heian period; perhaps, then, the men named here belonged to such a group:^[78]

The names with definite links to Buddhism are Jizo, Kasen (the Japanese reading of Mahakatyayana, one of the Buddha's Four Great Disciples), Terashi (another reading of jishu , a temple secretary), Shimochi (a word meaning a new Buddhist convert), and Keisoku (the Japanese reading of Mount Kukkutapada, on which Mahakasyapa is supposedly to have entered into nirvanic meditation). The meaning of Mimizu is not clear, but it could be a variant of mikuzu , a scum on the water or an ugly person with a mean demeanor.^[79] The man identified as Shimochi may be a novice priest who has just had a religious awakening (hosshin ).^[80] In this subculture, the profane simply appropriates the sacred, which leads to a quality of wry humor.

The confused and decadent mood of the times comes into full view in the lament of a mother whose children seem to epitomize the moral lapses of the folk world depicted in Ryojin hisho :

A summary of late-Heian decadence and hedonism is presented in the following song, which is filled with jestful irreverence:

Thus the troubled yet gay mood of the period leaves its imprint in the songs of Ryojin hisho , telling that life may be painful, imperfect, and often irksome, but at the same time it remains energizing, exciting, and colorful.

Quasi-Children's Songs

When we speak of the wide variety of topics in Ryojin hisho , a handful of songs ostensibly for children are invariably mentioned. Admittedly, these songs, in their utter simplicity, do at first glance appear to be ones that young children might sing. Yet when they are considered in the performative context of asobi entertainment, it becomes clear that they are in fact anything but children's songs.

This song, presumably voicing a child's threat to a snail, illustrates the point:

The song may originally have been sung in conjunction with monomane mai (mimic dances), a dance form that imitated the movement of people at work, animals, and insects in a humorous or even lewd manner and was staged as entertainment during banquets.^[82] Once it became an imayo performed by female entertainers, however, the song may have taken on a meaning very different from that of children playing with insects. Uttered in a disguised children's voice and in children's language, the song can easily imply men's suggestive exhortations for an asobi to display her skills—both as a musical entertainer and as a prostitute.

The following song, because it focuses on a dragonfly, long a popular motif in children's songs, has usually been understood to belong to that genre.^[83] But here again, when we view the ditty in the context of an asobi's performance, another meaning presents itself. Especially with the words warawabe and kaza , which mean young men rather than children, and asobase , meaning to let someone have fun and carrying a clear erotic undertone, the song could easily be a strong, provocative utterance spoken to asobi during physical contact with a customer:^[84]

Similarly, the next song is anything but a children's song, although it may be interpreted as a dialogue between a toy top and its owner, usually assumed to be a boy. However, the street names and the references to the festival at Jonanji Shrine hint at a more multivalent meaning. Most likely, komatsuburi (literally, a spinning top) is the name of a courtesan, and the song represents her coy refusal of an invitation to go to the outskirts of the capital with a customer, presumably for a tryst. The "horses" may well allude to men around the Toba Palace area (possibly warriors) with whom the woman had an unpleasant experience she does not want to repeat:

As these songs make clear, it is important always to keep the perfor-mative context and the females' role as lyricists, singers, and entertainers in mind when engaging in interpretation. Indeed, an important part of the entertainment purpose is achieved only when the audience decodes the symbolic or implied meaning of the songs, appreciating the messages on more than one level. This is true of numerous other seemingly simple songs in Ryojin hisho as well: when looked at closely, they reveal qualities not apparent at first or even second glance. And it is these qualities that give the songs their appeal.