But times were indeed changing. The shōgunate tried vainly to maintain its non-warring military men in the manner to which their status had accustomed them by minimizing the expenditures of other classes. The restrictive laws against lavish display were ignored one by one. It was to the chōnin that the samurai were forced to go for monetary help, and in many instances employment, so that they could not afford to oppose the merchants openly.
CHAPTER 5
Bunka-Bunsei Kabuki
Bunka and Bunsei historically are two eras but are so closely associated that they are usually spoken of as one—namely the Bunka-Bunsei or Kasei period (1804-30). The Kabuki period identified thus also includes a few years before: the Kyōwa era of 1801-4.
Decadence prevailed during the extremely peaceful, mellow years of Bunka-Bunsei under the rule of the eleventh shōgun, Tokugawa Ienari. This rococo period, with its over-all beauty and delicacy, can be likened to the brilliance of a candle just as its flame flickers brightly for the last time, only to die. Ienari, the progenitor of fifty-four acknowledged children, with probably more than fifteen wives and concubines, typified the times and the morals. Ernest Fenollosa has referred to these years as "a real lowering of both the moral and aesthetic standards of the streets. Men and women went to the extravagances of frank vulgarity. It was a sort of Genro carnival, on a lower plane."
During the high living and spectacular spending of the commoners in these liberal-minded years, Kabuki reached the pinnacle of its popularity and material abundance. Admission to the Kabuki increased to fantastic heights, with management taking full advantage of the greater demand for seats as the chōnin rose in monetary power. There were only three licensed theaters in the city of Edo. Those attending the Kabuki dressed sumptuously and frequented the costly teahouses attached to the theaters. Ichi-ryō ni-bu (one ryō and two bu) was the average fee for a day at the theater, including admission, service from the teahouse, and tipping the dekata or usher. First-class tickets to the Kabuki were bought through the teahouses, which naturally profited by the connection, but lower-class tickets were purchased at the box office. Some idea of the expense of a day at the theater can be gained from the information that ichi-ryō ni-bu was equivalent to the current price of three bales of rice. The ryō (four bu) was the basic unit of the monetary system represented in gold coins, prior to the advent of which the system was based on units of baled rice.
As a result of the prevailing extravagance, the theaters prospered and the actors benefited by increased salaries. The lush times gave birth to the term sen-ryō yakusha, signifying a thousand-775 actor, a complimentary term for a leading artist, used by the theatergoers in calling out in approbation a favorite's stage name when some particular bit of acting struck their fancy.
Kabuki set the vogue for lavish dress—an outgrowth from the increase in actors' pay. Their salaries were also supplemented by regular pecuniary gifts from their patrons. Not a little of the increasing splendor, however, was due to the indifference or indolence of the officers in relaxing the enforcement of edicts prohibiting the use of specified costume materials.
A few examples of lavish expenditures for costumes have been recorded in the annals of Sukeroku. Ichikawa Danjūrō VII, considered by many writers to have been the greatest of his family line, appeared for the first time in Sukeroku wearing an obi richly embroidered with the two Danjūrō crests: the mimasu (three nested grain measures) and the gyōyō-botan (peony). About one foot of the embroidery was valued at 58 momme. (At this time, white rice cost 65 or 66 momme per koku—about five bushels—and one koku equaled two and a half bales.) The entire obi would have cost the equivalent of 25 bales of rice. A lovely makie inrō (gold-lacquer medicine case) picturing a carp in a waterfall, made by the renowned lacquer artist Kajikawa, hung from the obi. This little item cost 30 ryō, the equivalent of 27 or 28 koku or 70 bales of rice—or five times the yearly income of a lower-class samurai.
As further evidence to emphasize the degree of extravagance in Danjūrō's costume, it can be noted that the daimyō family of Maeda, the richest lord in the country, received an income of one million koku yearly, while Asano Takumi no Kami Naganori of Akō, revered as Enya Hangan in Kanadehon Chūshingura, received 53,000 koku yearly. The lowest-paid samurai of Akō averaged from 20 koku and 5 personal food allotments to 5 ryō and 3 personal food allotments. The lowest-ranking samurai of all received 4 ryō and 1 personal food allotment.
Iwai Hanshirō, as Agemaki in the same production of Sukeroku, wore an uchikake (ceremonial outer robe) of black velvet embroidered in pure gold thread and an undergarment of karaori, the brocaded cloth normally used exclusively for Nō costumes. Hanshirō paid 70 ryō for this finery, since this was not provided by the management.
Unlimited spending for costumes continued until 1826, when Sukeroku was produced with more dazzling costumes than ever. A 60,000-koku daimyō, Matsuura Seizan, author of the popular Kasshi Yawa (Night Story of Kasshi, or Essays Begun in the First Year of Bunka), wrote: "This spring Sukeroku was performed with Iwai Shikaku II, eldest son of Iwai Hanshirō V, taking the role of Shiratama. His ornate costume, costing 600 ryō, included five uchikake. The one next to the kimono was made of white satin decorated with clouds and a dragon, painted in sumie [black-ink painting] by the famed artist of the day, Sakai Hoitsu Inja [inja, honorific term for a retired man], while the four remaining uchikake, overlaid with embroidered flowers and lions, were so expertly stitched with gold and silver as to appear like masterpieces of metalwork. Only a few years ago such luxuries were not permitted—only dyed patterns on cotton cloth might be used, causing the actors to be troubled, I hear, but at present matters seem to have changed. How is it that today such extravagant costumes can be used?"
Thriving in an atmosphere of degeneration, society had an insatiable desire for change. Such craving extended to the theater. Management, ever mindful of the source of its income, introduced the kaidan-mono, ghost plays of grotesque theme with a ghost as the protagonist instead of as a bit player as had been the custom previously. The realistic domestic plays known as sewa-mono normally dealt with domestic problems and double suicides, the main male characters generally being young men and sometimes merchants, laborers, sumō wrestlers, tobi (firemen), or foppish young men. Love affairs of the young blades, especially those involving shinjū (double suicide), also come under this classification, and the dress worn reflects quite accurately that of the commoners. Management now added kizewa-mono (ki, raw or real; sewa, worldly; literally, pure sewamono) with characters from the lowest strata of society.
The hero and heroine of kizewa-mono are not only from the lower classes but are often lawless characters. The akuba is the role of a bad woman or villainess. She may be a blackmailer, a thief, a gambler, or a panderer, but she is never a prostitute. She engages in fights and is not a lady in any sense of the word. Usually a well-known onnagata appears in the akuba role, so it is only proper that there should be something likable about the character. Perhaps she is stealing money to help re-establish her impoverished lord, or she is a bad woman who realizes she is wrong and commits suicide at the end of the play. The akuba is the woman yakuza (ne'er-do-well, scamp, ruffian). Also seen in the leading roles of kizewamono axe thieves, gamblers, prostitutes, vagabonds, beggars, ne'er-do-wells, and hinin (social outcasts).
Genteel poor or common-class people appear in kizewa-mono but not in leading roles. Beauty was not the essence of this form; it was the presentation of the ultimate in a realistic style of complete production.
It was at this time that the wig known as onnagata katsura made its debut to help enhance the believability of the female impersonator. The copper frame already had been in use since early Genro, but now the hair, strand by strand, was properly secured to the frame by first attaching it to fine silk by the use of needles. Previously, several strands of hair at a time had been tied across a string which was sewn to the front of the copper base, then combed backward over the frame.
The