This Scheming World Read online

  In this world there is surely nothing more terrible than an encounter with a bill collector. Yet even in this, when one has become accustomed over the years to being in debt, be is not to be intimidated even on New Year’s Eve.

  A veteran debtor was proudly boasting one New Year’s Eve: “Nobody has ever had his head cut off for failing to pay a debt. Not that I won’t pay so long as I am able. But you can’t get blood out of a turnip. How I wish I had a money tree! But sad to say there’s none at hand for I never sowed the seed.”

  So saying he spread out an old straw mat in the sun near a tree in the corner of his garden, and sat him down upon it, holding a well-sharpened fish knife in his hand. “I’ve gone to great pains to whet this knife, but now there’s nothing to cut with it. Not even a tiny bit of sardines! Still it may serve some useful purpose. At any moment now I may wax so indignant that I’ll kill myself. After all, our passing moods are of such a nature that we can’t control them forever. Through fifty-six years I’ve lived my life, but now I’m no longer attached to it. It’s a pity that in Kyoto’s most exclusive residential sections so many potbellied plutocrats die young. I swear by the Fox God that if only one of them would pay off all my debts for me I’d gladly die in his stead by committing harakiri.’’

  Thus speaking, he brandished his blade and looked exactly as though he himself were possessed by a fox. At this very moment along came a clucking hen. “Come,” he called to her, “I’ll take you along with me on my journey into the next world.” With a single sweep of his sharp blade he sliced off her head.

  Seeing this, the bill collectors who had been waiting about were suddenly seized with fright. Next thing they knew he’d be picking a quarrel with them on the very slightest pretext. So one after another they took their leave. On parting, however, they did not forget to speak words of consolation to the debtor’s wife, who had begun to kindle a fire under the teakettle. They expressed profound sympathy that she was so unfortunate as to be the wife of so short-tempered a fellow.

  To resort to such a dodge as this to be rid of bill collectors at the end of the year was nothing new; it was, however, a mean trick. Nevertheless, by this means the old reprobate was able to tide over his year-end financial embarrassment without uttering a single word of apology to anyone.

  There remained, however, one young apprentice to a timber dealer in Horikawa Street who had not taken his leave with the other bill collectors. Being only eighteen or nineteen years old, he looked both weak and womanish, but his heart was as strong as a lion’s. All the while the seasoned debt dodger had been playing out his little drama, he young apprentice had been lingering on the bamboo veranda, unconcernedly telling the beads of his rosary. When the last of the others had disappeared, he spoke up with great deliberation: “Now that the show’s over, I’d like to get my bill paid and be on my way.”

  “What!” cried the debtor. “Even the grown-ups were taken in completely and have gone their way, but here you sit and even dare to condemn my conduct as a mere act. Just what do you mean by this, anyhow?”

  “At a time like this,” replied the apprentice, “when we’re all so busy,I consider that little act of yours to be an unnecessary trick.”

  “Mind your own business!” exploded the angry debtor.

  “I’m not leaving here until I get ... “

  “Get what!” shouted the thoroughly angry fellow.“ . . . get my money,” calmly finished the apprentice. “From whom?” came the angry retort.

  “From anybody who owes me money,” replied the self-possessed apprentice. “If need be,I’ll take the money from him by force. I’m an expert, you know, at this sort of thing. Among all my fellow bill collectors, none would even attempt to collect from this list of twenty-seven notorious debtors. Take a look at this account book I have here. So far I’ve checked off the names of twenty-six and I’ve no intention of quitting here until I’ve collected your debt. Until you have paid your bill, the timbers you used to repair your house belong to us. So I’ll carry them off with me.’’

  Suiting action to words, the young apprentice forthwith took up his sledge hammer and began tearing out the doorposts of the house.

  Whereupon the master of the house jumped up and rushed toward him, crying out, “You rascal! I won’t stand for such an insult.”

  “Come, come,” replied the apprentice in a mollifying tone of voice, “the style of your threat is out of date. You seem to be completely ignorant of the current fashion. To tear out doorposts is the very latest thing in effective bill collecting.”

  Since the young man showed no signs whatever o being frightened by his threats, there was nothing left for the old debtor to do but apologize to him and pay in full the overdue bill.

  When the young apprentice had checked the last of the twenty-seven names off his list of unpaid accounts, he turned to the now thoroughly subdued debtor and said, “Now that I’ve been paid there’s nothing further to say. However, let me tell you this much anyhow. Your entire technique of resistance is quite passe. Experienced old campaigner that you are, your style is definitely dated. It would be much better if you’d coach your wife well in advance. Start your quarrel with her about noon on New Year’s Eve. Have her change her kimono, all the while crying out: ‘Any moment now I’m ready to get a divorce from you. But I warn you that if it comes to this, several people will die. Do you understand this thoroughly? It’s no laughing matter in the least.’ Then at this point you ought to interrupt her and say, ‘How dare you divorce me? You haven’t the courage’. ‘Oh, yes?’ she’ll reply. ‘I certainly have. And there’s nothing going to stop me!’ Now at this point you appear to back water. You say to her, ‘How I’ve yearned to pay my debts so when I die people’ll speak well of me, for the proverb says, “Man is mortal but fame is lasting.” Much as I regret it, this has come to pass. There’s nothing I can do about it. This very day will be my last on this earth. Oh, what a pity!’ Lamenting after this fashion, then, you ought to grab some papers-any old worthless paper will do. Tear them into shreds one after another, just as though they were valuable documents. When they see you do this, even the most obstinate of bill collectors will give up and no longer press for payment.”

  Having listened attentively to the advice of the young apprentice, the old debtor spoke: “That’s a trick I’ve never tried. Now, thanks to your suggestion I’ll win through the next year end.” Turning to his wife he asked, “What do you think of it, my dear? Isn’t it a wonder that a lad so young should show a wisdom so superior to my own? An occasion such as this calls for a celebration.”

  Quickly the hen slain shortly before was converted into soup, and then, with the apprentice boy an honored guest, the two ate the dinner to celebrate the successful end of the year.

  The meal done and the boy gone, the old veteran had second thoughts: “It’s not just the next year end that we must watch,” he cogitated. “ Those persistent bill collectors will be assaulting us again before the new year dawns.” Immediately he began mapping out with his wife the strategy they would employ in their rehearsed quarrels.

  So competently did he manage to deal with the bill collectors by means of his newly acquired technique that thereafter his fame spread abroad as the’Quarreler of Omiya Street.’

  THE OPENING PERFORMANCE BY THE NEW PLAYERS

  IN THE THEATERS of Kyoto it is customary to perform as a prelude to the opening of a performance, a dance to congratulate the city on its prosperity. Indeed, the townspeople of Kyoto, just like the merchants of the capital city, are as generous as generous can be when occasion demands, which is due entirely to their never-ending figuring and the economy-minded living of their lives day by day.

  Several years ago in Kyoto in the fall, the Komparu School from Kaga Province announced the opening of a Noh play performance. It was to run for four days, and although the price of theater boxes was set at ten pieces of silver, they were soo
n sold out. Furthermore, cash in advance was paid for them.

  At first it was announced that the tragic drama Sekidera Komachi would be presented, and people were greatly excited in expectation of witnessing a performance of this grandest of dramas. But when the hand drummer, for some reason or other, found it impossible to perform his part, the program was changed. Despite the alteration, however, on the opening day even before dawn, people thronged the entrance to the theater. Among them was a man from Edo who had reserved two entire boxes, each of which had cost him ten pieces of silver. In one of them he spread out a crimson rug, and further equipped it with a portable shelf, a low folding screen, and a case for his personal effects. In the back of the box he set up a temporary kitchen, provided with fish, fowl, and a basket of seasonal fruit. In the other box he set up a teakettle, with two pails of water beside it for making tea, one labeled ‘Uji Bridge’ and the other ‘ Otowa River.’

  Seated with him in his boxes were to be seen a physician, a draper, a Confucian scholar, a dealer in imported goods, and a poet; while visible behind them were women from Shimabara, boys from Shijo,prominent entertainers of the city, a masseur, and a ronin. Under the boxes was space for his personal palanquin, a bath, and even a lavatory. Indeed, with such luxurious appointments nothing at all was lacking in conveience for the enjoyment of the play.

  Such was the magnanimity of this man from Edo. Yet he was not the son of a feudal lord; he had attained to his position of eminence solely by dint of his wealth. Which is a very good reason why you should make money above all things else, in order that you too might disport yourself as you please. But there was method in this man’s madness about the theater, for he was very careful in all his entertaining to see that his wealth suffered no impairment. When business is combined with pleasure, how enjoyable it is! If a man is not rich enough, however, he should under no circumstances spend money wastefully.

  When the season end of September is past, it seems to be the usual custom for people to relax their attention to business, for then the year end still seems to be a thing of the distant future. With the coming of October, however, the weather changes: it becomes unsettled, and the rain and the winds threaten. In such an atmosphere as this it seems only natural for people to become nervous and restless. They tend to postpone until spring any particular thing they may have been planning, and they make shift with the bare necessities of daily life. Under such conditions they give up any ideas they might have had about buying luxuries or the works of artists. By and by, when the morning frost and the evening blasts drive them early to bed and near to the fireplace provided for their comfort during winter’s confinement, they are again liable to neglect their business, and as a result they may .come to the end of the year hard pressed.

  Later on there will follow, one after the other, the anniversary of the founder of the Buddhist sect of Nichiren, the series of ten evening sermons by the Jodo sect, the anniversary honoring the founder of the Tofukuji Temple, as well as that of the founder of the Ikko sect. The daytime festival and the evening merrymaking for the Day of the Boar come close together, only to be followed shortly by the bonfire ceremony at the Inari Shinto Shrine.

  Likewise about this time of year, the members of the theatrical troupe of Shijo River Beach are changed,’and the first performance of the new troupe is staged. Actors of long-standing reputation appear to be new, and people in general become optimistic. They tell each other how today they will attend Theater A, tomorrow Theater B, and the next day Theater C, for that’s where they’ll see the young actors from Osaka playing. And through the medium of the teahouse attached to the theater they reserve box seats, and give generous tips to their favorite actors, that they might be hailed as their ‘patrons’ a very hollow and useless vanity indeed!

  Drunk with the sake they have brought into the theater, they do not return straight home after the performance, but linger to watch the epilogue dance again in the upstairs room in Ishigake Street. So boisterously do they talk and so uproariously do they carouse that one would fear they could be heard all the way to the top of Mt. Hiei. As these carousers are prominent people in Kyoto, however, other people talk about them: “Oh, yes! He’s the favorite draper of Mr. So and So,” or, “He’s the broker that has entree to Lord What-You-May-Call-’im’s house.” To be thus gossiped about is considered by these habitues of the gay quarter to be an honor.

  However, in the case of a merchant with little capital, the story is entirely different. If he attends the theater just to beguile the time, he must be careful not to sit next to a smoker, lest the craving to smoke overcome him; and as for a cushion for his seat-well, he had better rent one made of straw. Still, from where he sits he can learn the names of the actors just as easily as anybody else.

  Now on the very opening day, when Yojibei and his troupe staged their new program, several young fellows, whose appearance indicated that they cared not a straw whether or not they were disinherited, were seen to be seated to the left of the stage. Being fashionably dressed, they were played up to by the actors on the stage, to the great envy of all the spectators. Seated in the audience, however, was one man who happened to have inside information about them, and he revealed their stories as follows:

  “Though I don’t know exactly how rich or how poor they are, I do know this: they are people from the River West section of the city. Isn’t it amusing to see them putting on as grand airs as the people of the Mid-City? Why, a stranger might mistake them for men of distinction. That fellow dressed in the black haori married the heiress of a rice dealer, strictly from mercenary motives. His wife must be fourteen or fifteen years older than he is. He makes his old mother grind rice in a hand mill, and he sets his younger brother to tramping about the streets of Kyoto selling horse beans. He ought to quit wearing that white-hilted sword.

  “That fellow wearing the iridescent haori is a glue dealer of uncertain origin, though from his gay clothes you might suppose he was more respectable than he is. His house is mortgaged and people say he can’t keep up the payments on it. Besides, he has a dispute over the eastern boundary line with his neighbor that, because of his obstinacy, has not been settled yet. At such a critical time as this, it is sheer madness for him to show up in the theater.

  “That third fellow over there in the whitish-brown haori is known to have borrowed five kan-not without paying interest, of course,-for a dowry that would enable him to become the adopted heir of a lacquerer. His foster father hasn’t been dead thirty-five days, yet here he sits in the theater, leaving his poor widowed mother alone at home.. What an uncouth fellow he is! At a time when no merchant in Kyoto is willing to sell him rice, or fuel, or any other daily necessity on credit, he calls in gay boys to entertain him while he’s on a spree. Poor lads, they think he’s a rich patron, because it’s humanly impossible for them to find out the truth about him. Quite contrary to their belief, though, he hasn’t paid for any credit purchases for the past several years.

  “That fellow wearing the colored striped haori runs a small exchange shop. His brother is a priest in the Miidera Temple, and if he doesn’t come to his financial aid, he won’t be able to scrape past the year end. Except for him, not a single one of them will be able to stay in the capital to celebrate the New Year.”

  As he spoke, he pointed in their direction and laughed; whereupon, misinterpreting it as an expression of envy, they took two or three cumquats, and, placing them on camellia and daffodil leaves, wrapped them up in paper and tossed them over in his direction.

  Opening up the package, our narrator smiled in derision and remarked, “If they were really what they pretend to be, they would have paid two bu for each single cumquat. But you may be sure they’ll never pay that price.”

  By and by the entire program ended and our running commentator took his leave and went home. Thereafter the same crowd appeared at the theater day after day, but always dressed in the same clothes and wearing the i
dentical haori. When the teahouse manager noticed it; he at once asked them to pay their bills. But they declined to do so, and after that they abruptly ceased coming to the theater. Till the end of the year he continued to dun them, but all in vain.

  Then one of them, despising moonlight flitting as out-of-date, took to coming out in broad daylight, still flitting about to no one knew where. Another was confined to his room on the pretext of being insane. Still another, who tried to commit suicide, was thereafter kept under observation. As for the entertainer who had introduced these fellows to the teahouse, he was put under police surveillance for having endorsed thieves.

  The teahouse keeper, who could think of nothing to do but despair of ever collecting his money, finally managed to persuade himself that it was all a horrible nightmare and beat a hasty retreat. Whereas he had anticipated earning fifteen ryo from them, all that remained with him after the episode were three sedge hats left behind and the rather painful proof that on New Year’s Eve he was the biggest dupe in Kyoto.

  HOW LOVELY THE SIGHT OF RICE-CAKE FLOWERS AT NEW YEAR’S

  ON NEW YEAR’S Eve the bill collectors must be quite familiar with that old saying, ‘Be quick to do good,’ for they surely move around swiftly. On this special day they speed about the world like so many wing-footed Mercuries, till it seems that their sandals, though made of iron, would be completely worn out. Indeed, to the merchants their vitality means everything. By the way, I once heard an old bill collector give the following advice: