Pathway to Japanese Literature

I. Local Fieldwork

On January 10th, we crossed the Akashi Strait beneath clear skies after snowfall and landed at Sumoto.
Our party consisted of three—Mr. Sakakibara Shihō and young painter Mr. Katayama. The red-light district immediately visible upon arrival must have formed part of the old port's lingering charm.
As dusk already deepened, we abandoned plans to venture out.
We spread maps to strategize tomorrow's fieldwork, consulted Akegane Shigeyoshi's Illustrated Guide to Famous Sites in Awaji Province among other references, and confined ourselves to making several basic preparations.

That evening through Dr. Shimajima's generosity—a fellow enthusiast who had arranged our lodgings—we specially summoned the puppet troupe from Sanjō Village, had railings hastily installed on his residence's second-floor tatami room, and requested their performance.
This was the troupe of Mr. Yoshida Denjirō, entrusted with Awaji's oldest hereditary leadership under Uemura Gennojō's lineage. As New Year holidays had brought puppeteers back from regional tours across their circuits, tonight's cast comprised exclusively first-rate performers specially assembled for the occasion.
Shamisen players were local blind masters; chanters skilled amateurs—a combination that heightened the folk art's earthy authenticity.
We had earnestly hoped for classical pieces in the program; however, due to incomplete staging and requirements for specialized props like costumes and puppet heads essential for our desired Kokusen'ya—which consequently went unperformed—they instead opened with auspicious selections: the Ebisu Dance and Sanbaso before proceeding to perform segments from Taikōki,
the Amagasaki scene and smoke-darkened Urami Samezaya,
the Unagidani scene, antiquated Kawara Tachibiki, followed by five acts from Horikawa no Dan's rehearsal space.

However, their performance was neither as antiquated as I had expected, nor did it carry much earthy authenticity.
After the performance, we asked Mr. Yoshida and local elders who had gathered about the origins of the puppetry through various questions, but apart from what had already been published by Mr. Yoshii Tarō and others, we were unable to obtain many new theories.
The amount I recorded in my notebook that night was meager.
Mr. Shihō himself had apparently requested in advance to collect old puppet heads with the intention of acquiring antique ones, but compared to the previous occasion, there were fewer outstanding old pieces, and it seems this too did not yield any significant harvest.
We could not help but feel somewhat pessimistic.

The next morning, we were awakened early by the sound of drums. When we inquired, we were told that during the New Year period, the troupe's "Sanbaso Celebration" was making rounds through merchant houses with puppets. As expected of the local tradition, I recovered from last night's disappointment and asked Mrs. Shimajima to summon one such group. The puppeteers chanted Sanbaso while manipulating the dolls; those playing flute and drums struck their instruments with thin fan-shaped wooden pieces to keep rhythm, occasionally serving as counterparts in dialogues with Chitose Kurobe. This puppet measured merely one shaku five sun (about 45 cm), yet its performance differed little from last night's puppetry. Some abbreviation and coarseness were inevitable. Moreover, though this gratuity depended on patrons' discretion, when five sen became established as the standard rate—a surprisingly low sum—I marveled at how their economic structure remained rooted in feudal times.

After breakfast, we chartered an automobile and, under Mr. Katayama’s guidance, headed toward Aza Sanjō in Ichimura Village of Mihara District.
The cloudy sky from morning finally brought down snow, a rarity for Awaji.
On the way, we visited Hirota Hachiman Shrine in Aza Hirota of Hirota Village and proceeded straight to our destination, Sanjō Hachiman Shrine in Sanjō.
Taking shelter from the snow under the pine trees at the shrine entrance while burning straw for warmth, we waited through Mr. Yoshida’s connections for Hyakudaifu Shrine’s opening. However, with the responsible group leader unfortunately absent, this ultimately proved impossible, leaving us unable to see the long-awaited Hyakudaifu statue.
Reluctantly, we decided to search around the shrine buildings for materials.
The main hall of Hachiman Shrine connects directly to the worship hall.
To its left stands a newly constructed small shrine as a separate building.
This was said to be Hyakudaifu’s shrine, but examining the votive plaque before the altar revealed “Kotoshironushi Shrine” at center with “Dōkunbō” to its right,
“Hyakudaifu” placed alongside it, and “Akiha Deity” written to the left.
From this arrangement, it appeared Dōkunbō and Hyakudaifu had likely been treated as near-synonymous entities since antiquity.
While Kotoshironushi clearly signifies Ebisaburō and their connection to Hyakudaifu remains common knowledge, I found myself profoundly perplexed as to why Akiha Deity had also been enshrined here.

However, upon examining the stone lantern before the worship hall, we discovered its upper central portion bore the inscription "Ebisu Daijingu," with the right side below reading vertically "Petitioner: Gennojō," "Troupe Members," and "Auspicious Day of November in Tenmei 5 (1785), Year of the Wood Snake," while the left side was carved with "Villagers." Considering this evidence, I imagined that Hachiman Shrine and Ebisaburō had originally been enshrined together within this hall before their separation, after which a new shrine for Ebisaburō and Hyakudaifu was constructed. This opposition between the Gennojō Troupe and villagers suggested Sanjō Village had been represented by the troupe during that era—indeed, I considered this to imply Gennojō essentially embodied Sanjō Village itself. Suspended from the worship hall’s ceiling hung a wooden box inscribed “Gennojō Troupe”—its shape strongly suggesting an old puppet storage case used in performances—while an antique lantern dated Kaei 6 (1853) sat on a corner shelf. Given that performances were traditionally held before this shrine hall, I surmised this lantern had likely been used during such events. Noticing a substantial Heian-style building west of the shrine hall, I asked our Yoshida family guide whether it housed ritual implements, only to learn it served as the villagers’ assembly hall containing nothing of note. Through these observations, it became clear that even today Sanjō’s community life remained distinctly centered around this Hachiman Shrine.

In Ichimura Village there existed another splendid Ebisu Shrine, but as the snow intensified, we abandoned our plans and visited instead the nearby ancestral home of Uemura Gennojō. However, this too proved futile—the current Gennojō had relocated his entire household to Tokushima some twenty years prior, leaving nothing for us to examine. Yet the old gate structure and lengthy warehouse-like puppet storages lining its side struck me as profoundly evocative of a traditional troupe leader's residence, deepening my fascination. For our return journey, we took the Shikoku Highway directly through Yōgi Pine Grove, detoured to Ebisu Shrine in Nakajō of Hirota Village en route, and reached our Sumoto lodgings by dusk.

That evening, we received an invitation to a gathering of local art enthusiasts called the Satsukikai, where we talked late into the night about puppetry and art. Even so, being in the heartland of puppetry, I was struck by how Gidayū jōruri remained more widely practiced than I had imagined—indeed, it seemed nearly everyone here engaged with this art form in some way—and I found myself newly awed by the enduring power of folk art.

On the following 12th, due to the previous night’s blizzard, the final regular ship between Hyogo and Sumoto was suspended, so the vessel did not depart at the scheduled time.
Due to our return arrangements, we had no choice but to hire a car again and take the coastal route through Iwaya.
Along the way in Shiotamura Village, we encountered what appeared to be a local festival—two children in red eboshi hats were beating a drum atop a float, while twenty or thirty similar children carried it forward with rhythmic shouts of “Wassho! Wassho!” This was entirely a children’s festival, with the adults watching and cheering them on.
The peaceful atmosphere of the fishing village was pleasantly conveyed.
From Iwaya, we crossed to Akashi by chugging steamship, passed through Kobe and Osaka, and thus concluded this journey.

II. The Current State of Puppetry

In their prime during periods of prosperity, puppet troupes were structured with forty to fifty members per troupe; today, they form troupes comprising approximately fifteen or sixteen regular puppeteers and seventeen members in total when including narrators, shamisen players, and apprentices.
The basic organization of a puppet troupe was established with a minimum of eight members.
*The Awaji Province Famous Places Illustrated* states, "There are said to be over twenty households of troupe leaders," but currently, Awaji has only four existing puppet troupes: Uemura Gennojō in Sanjō, Awaji Gennojō in Shizuki Town, Kobayashi Rokudayū in Ayuhara Village, and Ichimura Rokunojō in Ichimura Village, with approximately sixty puppeteers.
It is said that small troupes have also been formed in Iyo and Awa.
Before the Meiji era, even in Sanjō alone, all seventy to eighty households had made their living through puppetry; however, as the art declined, they gradually shifted to agriculture and other occupations.
That even Uemura Gennojō—of the most venerable lineage—had already relocated to Tokushima and become a vaudeville theater manager made this all too easy to imagine.
Puppet craftsmen were originally based primarily in Tokushima, and while they could occasionally be found in Awaji as well, this was not their main profession but rather a side job alongside agriculture; naturally, their skills were not superior.

Currently, Awaji puppet troupes each maintained what could be considered fixed territories for their tours, guarding their respective regions. For instance, while their touring circuits spanned a considerable range across Kyushu, Shikoku, Chūgoku, Kinki, and other regions, within Shikoku itself they had remarkably few connections to Tosa and rarely ventured there. Thus it came to be established that all of Kyushu fell under Ichimura Rokunojō's territory; Yamato, Kawachi, and Izumi provinces primarily under Kobayashi Rokudayū; the Chūgoku region under Awaji Gennojō; and areas centered on Iyo—including Awa, Sanuki, and Settsu—under Uemura Gennojō. Moreover, in regions such as Chūgoku, there existed a considerable number of independent troupes of itinerant puppeteers who, unaffiliated with any formal company, traveled about performing simple solo puppet shows by the roadside.

Among the aforementioned regions, Iyo was where puppet entertainment flourished most vigorously.
It is said that only in Iyo could troupes tour year-round, repeating performances from New Year’s Day through year-end Ōmisoka every single year.
In Iyo, since ancient times, each month of the year had been allocated to specific counties, towns, and villages where tour dates were scheduled in advance.
In particular, for wintertime audiences, a special heating device called a *theater kotatsu* had even been developed.
Following this, the next region to flourish was Kii, where Kobayashi Rokudayū’s relationship with Kishū appeared to have been quite profound; it was said that the lord of Kishū granted his troupe the official *Mitsuba Aoi* crest.
In other words, this puppet troupe had obtained advantageous privileges throughout the entire Kii domain.

However, recently, as each troupe's core personnel became insufficient, they established a system of supplementary narrators (oikakae tayū) alongside resident narrators (zazuke tayū), now necessitating the temporary hiring of narrators. According to Mr. Senda Umeien, a jōkyoku performer from Wakayama, Ichimura Rokunojō's troupe on tour in Kyushu had arranged contractual terms of one-year engagements with daily rates ranging from a minimum of nine yen to a maximum of thirteen yen. Additional benefits included authorization for separate billing distinct from resident narrators; second-class rail and steamship passage; provision of all available transport at performance locations; full coverage of lodging expenses at annexes including costs for one attendant; plus twice-weekly shaves and biweekly haircuts reimbursed at cost. With performance periods typically spanning twenty-four to twenty-five days per engagement, supplementary narrators' earnings thereby reached substantial sums. Their responsibilities primarily involved performing domestic dramas, with daily programs determined by the narrator's selection, though they remained obligated to perform Act Nine of Chūshingura and Act Ten of Taikōki exactly as dictated by the troupe leader. Training for troupe apprentices, however, remained optional—not constituting a mandatory duty—and was said to depend entirely on the narrator's personal inclination.

Regarding the current social status of puppet troupes, it appeared they were no longer accorded the special treatment of old. However, when it came to marriage and other relationships, they still appeared to be disliked by the general public. The perception that they formed a special community had become an ingrained notion that persisted among people from other regions, and it was an undeniable fact that this perception often manifested externally, resulting in them being viewed unfavorably by the general populace.

However, based on my observations, Uemura Gennojō’s puppetry showed scarcely any difference from that of the Bunraku-za. The use of three operators for principal puppets, the movable eyes, eyebrows, mouths, and fingers of the figures, and even their approximate size were nearly identical. It requires little imagination to suppose that these two traditions had maintained an intimate relationship since their founding, mutually influencing one another. While Chikamatsu’s *The Battles of Coxinga* and *The Love Suicides at Amijima* remain recognized as the oldest Gidayū pieces, even these retain no distinctly archaic forms or techniques predating Bunraku. Naturally, one cannot dismiss the possibility that local color and antiquated styles might be preserved through meticulous comparative analysis of minutiae. Yet such features would constitute mere minor variations within a grander methodology rather than representing fundamental differences in method itself. Consequently, no elements exist there that might distinguish Awaji puppetry as unique. From this perspective, we may safely conclude that Uemura Gennojō’s art belongs wholly to the same methodological and morphological category as Bunraku puppetry.

However, that applied only to Gidayū pieces.
In Awaji, one must not forget that they invariably included two pieces as prelude performance titles: "Ebisu Dance" and "Sanbaso".
Only for these puppets were two people employed—one handling the head and hands, another the legs.
Precisely because of this arrangement, they maintained an older methodology distinct from Gidayū pieces.
That said, Mr. Yoshida Denjirō had mentioned in passing that the Ebisu Dance had changed significantly from its ancient form—an observation I found entirely credible.
This stemmed from its nature as a ritual event born of puppetry to pray for abundant harvests and catches; its content and form naturally evolved alongside shifting popular demands and collective psychology.
By contrast, Sanbaso appeared to have preserved its classical form with relative fidelity.
This preservation occurred because Sanbaso itself had crystallized into a fixed form predating Noh theater—a completed structure transplanted into puppetry that endured like a religious rite, resisting temporal alterations through faithful adherence to tradition.
The Okina figure in Noh theater corroborates this continuity—a point Mr. Yoshida himself had conceded.
Thus Sanbaso emerges not merely as puppetry's oldest extant piece but as the linchpin of Awaji troupes' distinctive identity through their unwavering inclusion of both Sanbaso and Ebisu Dance—thereby asserting their uniqueness against Bunraku.
Where Bunraku-za epitomized pure artistic performance, Uemura Gennojō's troupe retained transitional elements clinging to residual religious significance—not yet fully distilled into artistry.
Herein lay Awaji puppetry's essential character.

III. The Origin of Puppet Troupes

The puppet troupe with the oldest history in Awaji was of course the Uemura Gennojō Troupe located in Sanjō, Ichimura Village of Mihara District.
The Awaji Gennojō Troupe in Shizuki Town, Tsuna District was relatively new and said to have been established later than the Kobayashi Rokudayū Troupe in Ayuhara Village of the same district.
According to Mr. Yoshida’s theory, it was claimed to have been founded approximately a hundred years prior; however, this naturally lacked definitive evidence. When comprehensively considering various circumstances, it was thought traceable to at least two hundred years.
Yet it remained curious that this supposedly newest troupe bore the representative name Awaji Gennojō. Upon investigation, the truth appeared to be that they had initially called themselves Uemura Genzaemon—a branch of Uemura Gennojō’s lineage—but later during nationwide tours observed how the name Gennojō, long promoted as puppetry’s “founding ancestor,” held influence akin to theatrical dynastic names like Danjūrō and Kikugorō. Recognizing the convenience of appropriating this prestige, they renamed themselves Awaji Gennojō.
Consequently, locals refused to recognize any name claiming to represent all of Awaji; instead it became customary to prefix the troupe leader’s name with their location’s place name, resulting in Shizuki Gennojō.

Regarding the origins of the Uemura Gennojō Troupe, beyond what had been transmitted by troupe leaders—as previously described in Mr. Yoshii Tarō’s published accounts—no definitive materials were obtained. Summarizing the accounts of Mr. Yoshida and local elders: long ago, a puppeteer called Hyakudaifu came to Sanjō, married the daughter of one Kikutayu, and had his child inherit his profession. This was said to be the origin of Awaji puppetry. It was also claimed that this Hyakudaifu was Dōkunbō, and that Hyakudaifu brought a puppet called Dōkunbō. From this perspective, Awaji puppetry would appear to have been transmitted from other regions, with Hyakudaifu understood as its progenitor. However, given that the true nature of this Hyakudaifu remained exceedingly elusive, this ultimately became the focal point of inquiry.

Now, Mr. Yoshii Tarō’s prior research had clarified that this Hyakudaifu held deep connections with Nishinomiya’s Ebisu Shrine; furthermore, it corroborated that the shrine’s subsidiary sanctuary houses a Hyakudaifu Shrine and that this deity serves as the tutelary god of Nishinomiya’s kugutsu puppeteers.
The settlement where these Nishinomiya kugutsu puppeteers took up residence still remains today as the place name Sansho, located north of Nishinomiya Shrine in Nishinomiya City.
However, the Sanjō area of Ichimura Village where the Awaji Puppet Troupe resides was historically written with the characters 産所 (Sansho), and even now continues to be pronounced succinctly as “sanjyo” by local inhabitants.
Moreover, through my local investigations, I discovered that the Hyakudaifu Shrine had been merged with the Ebisu Shrine to become an auxiliary shrine of Sanjō Hachiman—a configuration mirroring how the Ebisu Shrine in Nishinomiya serves as an auxiliary shrine of Hirota Shrine, with the Hyakudaifu Shrine acting as its subsidiary.
From this, one could roughly surmise the relationship between Nishinomiya Sansho and the Sanjō area of Ichimura Village. Furthermore, the history of Hirota Village adjacent to this Ichimura Village further solidified the connection between Nishinomiya and Awaji.

Hirota Village was formerly called Hirota District.
According to an entry from the *Azuma Kagami* recorded in *Awaji Province Famous Sites Illustrated Guide*: "On the 28th day of the fourth month of Juei 3 [1184], upon hearing rumors that the Taira clan was in western Japan, military forces were dispatched. To ensure successful subjugation without incident, prayers were conducted, and Hirota Manor in Awaji Province was dedicated to Hirota Shrine."
Dedication.
Hirota Shrine’s sacred territory.
Located in Hirota Manor, Awaji Province.
The above [is dedicated] to augment divine authority, particularly through prayers; donated as stated herein.
The 28th day of the fourth month of Juei 3 [1184].
“Senior Fourth Rank, Lower Grade, Minamoto no Asomi.”
...and so on.
This refers to Minamoto no Yoritomo’s dedication of Awaji’s Hirota District—present-day Hirota Village in Mihara District—as sacred territory of Nishinomiya’s Hirota Shrine.
As previously mentioned, Hirota Village has Hirota Hachiman Shrine, and in Nakajo, Hirota Village, there is an Ebisu Shrine facing the same shrine’s temporary sanctuary.
The connection between Nishinomiya and Awaji is both ancient and profound.

If that is so, then the kugutsu puppeteers—regarded as Hyakudaifu of Nishinomiya Sansho—setting out for Awaji’s Sansho was by no means accidental; there must have been ample reason for their coming.
That is to say, interaction within the same community was implied there.
Moreover, when one considers that the family he married into bore the name Kikutayu, this too seemed to be a name with some connection to the kugutsu puppeteers.
Might there have been extremely primitive kugutsu puppeteers in this Sansho even before Hyakudaifu’s time?
The *Famous Sites Illustrated Guide* records: “According to village elders’ legends, in ancient times, a man called Hyakudaifu came from Nishinomiya to Awaji carrying puppets and long lodged at this village’s Omi-dō.”
At that time, a puppeteer of this village named Kikutayu brought Hyakudaifu back and settled him there; during this period, he formed a bond with Kikutayu’s daughter, who then conceived.
This seemed to corroborate my theory.
Regarding Omi-dō, the same *Famous Sites Illustrated Guide* records as follows.
“According to one theory, those considered impure due to childbirth all avoided the Sōsha Shrine’s festival and instead gave birth at this village’s Omi-dō; hence this place came to be called Sansho.”
Furthermore, the Iiyama Shrine Records state that it came to be called *Sanshō* because it was the land where the two deities Izanagi and Izanami gave birth to the sun goddess, moon god, Hiruko, Susanoo-no-Mikoto, and others.
It is now called Ōmido.
The *Hōsuiroku* records: “Omi-dō was a place where women from across the province gathered to spin hemp,” and so on.
Regarding the relationship between Awaji and hemp, there was the Ise Kuruma Shrine in Kuruma Village, Tsuna District, and the *Famous Sites Illustrated Guide* states: “One text notes that the Ise Kuruma Shrine [omission] enshrines a deity who first planted hemp, with the same deity also present in Oe District, Awa Province.”
Moreover, since this shrine appears in the *Engishiki* as “Awaji Province, Tsuna District, Ise Kuruma Shrine,” its origins were ancient; therefore, it was likely that hemp production had flourished in Awaji since antiquity.
According to Mr. Yoshida’s account, what was now called Sanjō Hachiman had formerly been referred to as Ōmido, though it should correctly be written as Omi-dō—a gathering place where villagers once assembled to spin cords.
It was necessary to consider the relationship between spinning hemp cords and puppetry as well; from this perspective, the villagers of Sansho appeared to have engaged in communal production activities distinct from other villages.
And that was different from ordinary people—it could be considered to have been specialized work belonging to the category of miscellaneous households of ancient times.
For instance, in the Keihan region, there existed a folk custom where hemp cords were invariably attached to newborns’ birth garments during their shrine visit (boys came on the 31st day after birth and girls on the 30th day to receive health and happiness from the local tutelary deity)—and crucially, these cords were tied not by close relatives but by neighbors. Did this not suggest some connection to Sansho’s cord-spinning practices?
If that were the case, then they made cord-spinning—which other villages did not engage in—their livelihood, and alongside this, also performed puppetry.
It was then that Hyakudaifu appeared, imparting the most advanced methods and techniques from Nishinomiya, thereby revolutionizing their puppetry performances.

And thus Hyakudaifu became the progenitor of Awaji Puppetry.
One might interpret matters in this fashion.
In any case, there remains scarcely any room for doubt that Awaji puppetry traces its origins to Nishinomiya.

The precise era of Hyakudaifu's establishment remains naturally obscure, but I consider it unlikely to postdate the late Kamakura period in general terms.
Moreover, while we have ultimately no means of ascertaining precisely to what degree puppets developed thereafter or through what pathways, each puppetry troupe leader possesses copies of imperial decrees and tower performance licenses.
Though one cannot unconditionally accept the era names recorded in these documents at face value, we may generally credit the account that during the Genki era [1570–1573], they journeyed to the capital and were summoned to perform puppetry at the Three Shrines' Kagura ceremony within the imperial court.
At this time, having found favor with the Emperor, they were granted the Junior Fourth Rank.
Furthermore, Uemura Gennojō's troupe maintains a separate servant registry for the Takatsukasa family.
That is to say, while being subordinated as servants of the Takatsukasa household, the troupe leaders serving as overseers were permitted to bear surnames and swords, and authorized to use lanterns bearing the Takatsukasa family crest.
When touring provincial regions, the presence of these crested lanterns ensured that all performances ceased within one ri (~4 km) radius of the Gennojō Troupe's venue, while granting privileges such as precedence in river crossings. Given that they received special protection and encouragement from both central authorities and aristocratic circles, we may conclude that their position and techniques in puppetry were substantially recognized by the cultural establishment of that period—a recognition that simultaneously testifies to the advanced state of their technical prowess.

However, the core of their performed repertoire remained the *Ebisu Dance* and *Sanbaso*. As they toured various provinces and came into contact with cultural centers like Kyoto during their travels, their techniques gradually expanded—likely discovering and incorporating new staging methods and repertoire over time.
For instance, elements such as sermon ballads derived from *Heike* recitation and Kōwakamai-style compositions were incorporated; through these, they created texts that dramatized simple narratives and gradually attempted more complex stagings—or so it would seem.
Yet when viewed from the perspective of contemporary puppetry techniques, these must have been incomparably primitive.
The emergence of Chikamatsu and Gidayū marked a new epoch in puppetry techniques.
This was clearly a radical turning point—within several years or perhaps a decade or so—after which puppetry methods could be said to have reached near completion.
Thereafter came only refinements in technical details.

Now, as for how this Gidayū Narrative entered Awaji—it appeared to have come not directly from Osaka but rather from the direction of Awa-Tokushima.
This was because, first of all, in Awaji they referred to Gidayū Narrative as Awa Jōruri.
Secondly, within Awaji, Fukura stood as the area where this Jōruri tradition thrived most vigorously. When one considered how major classic pieces like Chikamatsu’s *Battles of Coxinga*—by then lost to Sumoto and other regions, with no remaining performers capable of narrating them—still remained splendidly preserved in Fukura, I found myself compelled to reach such a conclusion.
Fukura lay just across the Naruto Strait, adjacent to Awa.
It went without saying that Awa and Gidayū had been closely related; however, this was undoubtedly because the formidable cultural sphere of a major domain like Awa-Tokushima could leap over Awaji’s minor domains to maintain direct contact with the cultural centers of Kyoto and Osaka, allowing its influence to be absorbed far more swiftly and deeply.
Thus, the Gidayū Narrative first entered Tokushima; then, having transformed into Awa Jōruri, it crossed over to Fukura and gradually spread throughout Sumoto, Yura, Iwaya, and indeed all of Awaji Island—would this not have been the case?
And it was thought that this Awa Jōruri, through its combination with puppetry techniques in Ichimura, Sanjō—located between Fukura and Sumoto—naturally led to the incorporation of the original Takemoto-za puppetry techniques, thereby giving birth to Awaji Ningyō Jōruri here.
Furthermore, regarding the relationship between Awaji and the Osaka Bunraku-za, it was locally believed that the Bunraku-za had originated from Awaji.
That is to say, the Bunraku-za was founded by Bunraku-ō, and it was said that this Bunraku-ō had been a man from Awaji Kariya.
I had not yet had the opportunity to clarify this point; however, even if this were entirely true, it must undoubtedly have been much later than the arrival of Awa Jōruri.
In other words, it was believed that Awaji’s puppetry techniques had developed into their present state under the considerable influence of the Takemoto-za and Toyotake-za in Osaka following the advancement of their techniques.

Viewing it in this manner, it can be inferred that the Awaji Puppet Troupes first underwent their primitive stage of growth through Nishinomiya’s Ebisu Dance, then achieved a phase of full-fledged development via Osaka’s Gidayū Narrative, thereby reaching their culmination.

IV. A Study of Puppetry’s Origins

Regarding the origins of puppets, the local elders related the following fascinating legend.
In Awaji, humans were initially offered as divine sacrifices; in later generations, they began creating human-shaped figures to substitute for people—this marks the origin of puppets.
The reason puppet performance venues came to be called *shibai* lies in antiquity: these substitute puppets for human sacrifices were deemed impure and thus forbidden entry into homes, necessitating their display and sale outdoors on grassy plots—the very act of vending puppets (*hīsagu*) at such "grass places" (*shibai*) eventually extending semantically to encompass puppet performance sites themselves.
Of course, this is a groundless conjecture, but it contains many implications worthy of thorough consideration.

The first points requiring consideration were the substitution of human sacrifice with puppets and the legend of haniwa replacing Nomi no Sukune’s junshi (ritual following suicide). This had an intrinsic connection—the human sacrifice here likely referred specifically to junshi. If that were indeed the case, this constituted work related to funeral rites, which made comprehensible their treatment of puppets as ritually impure objects.

The Haji Clan had overseen funeral rites, tomb construction, and earthenware production. Did this mean Awaji’s puppet-making originated with the Haji Clan? And was there a connection between the Haji Clan and the kugutsu puppeteers who manipulated these figures?

Regarding these points, we could only speculate—though in Tsuna District lay Torikai Village, and the Famous Sites Illustrated Guide recorded: “Torikai-shō... This vicinity is mentioned... This may have been where the Torikae-be was established in antiquity.” This might serve as collateral evidence. Moreover, as Dr. Kida Sadakichi wrote in his *“An Introductory Study of the Haji Clan”* (published in *“Ethnos and History”* Vol.5 No.3): “If these people were to engage solely in funerals and tomb-related matters, it would become insufficient to sustain their gradually increasing population.” He continued: “They joined the ranks of vagrants and wanderers, performing celebratory speeches and entertainments to become what are called *hokahibito*.” Both the presence of the Haji Clan in Awaji and their connection to puppetry performances could thus be considered reasonably credible assumptions.

However, what required clear distinction was how the haniwa-style puppets of the Haji Clan fundamentally differed in origin from the wooden puppets of the kugutsu—a point I had elaborated on in my separate essay *The Two Lineages of Puppets*. Awaji’s legends had simply conflated these two under the blanket term “puppets.”

Furthermore, what must be considered is the relationship between Sanjō=*sansho* and the Haji Clan.
Just as the Haji Clan constituted a special community in ancient times, *sansho* was a special community in the medieval period.
Regarding the essential nature of *sansho*, there remained no established theory; Dr. Kida interpreted this as *sanjo*—non-settled outcasts scattered across various regions—while Mr. Yanagita Kunio judged it to be "*sansho*" (divination communities), special groups engaged in divination using counting rods.
However, I wish to believe that *sansho* was simply a special community engaged in various childbirth-related tasks—midwifery, obstetrics, and gynecological care—as commonly understood.
The belief that childbirth was defilement had been unique to the Japanese people, and the fact that they built birthing huts slightly removed from general settlements and had parturient women use separate fires was an ancient custom well-documented in texts since the Kojiki.
Considering this, would it not be natural that the Haji Clan—who had made engaging in the defilement of funerals their occupation—would eventually come to participate in the defilement of childbirth as well, due to the aforementioned economic circumstances and the specialized development of social life?
Moreover, as culture advanced, they came to learn divination using counting rods and became *sansho* (divination communities), then further descended into becoming lowly servants subordinate to temples and powerful clans, likely coming to be called *sanjo* (scattered communities).
These three should be seen as differentiations of a single entity; they were certainly never separate existences.
Not only that, but within the *sansho* communities emerged those who made celebratory performances their trade, intermingling with the itinerant kugutsu puppeteers.
It could be considered that through this intermingling, the kugutsu came to seek settlement in *sansho* communities—these being settlements of the same special class.
Would it not be that the kugutsu puppeteer communities of Nishinomiya *sansho* and Awaji Ichimura *sansho* were thus established?
Moreover, it was recorded that Awaji’s kugutsu puppeteers not only performed celebratory entertainments but also engaged in shamanic rituals.
In Volume 5 of the *Awaji Province Famous Sites Illustrated Guide*: “Nankō.
The same [location] (Ayuhara) was situated in Minamidani Village, at the border of Nishimura.
It was thus named according to the local ridge nomenclature.
This was the place where Kobayashi Rokudayū, self-styled leader of the kugutsu, and his disciples resided.
In common practice, people used this ridge nomenclature to call it Minamikōbe.
The wives made divination of spirits of the dead their occupation.
This practice was termed *tataki* shamans.
“They are said to be a type of Azusa Miko.”

In Kobayashi Rokudayū’s troupe, men manipulated puppets while women became shamans practicing divination. This was likely an occupation they had maintained since ancient times. Historically, shamanic performers formed special communities from antiquity onward. If permitted free speculation, one might consider that they—originally shrine maidens upholding the Oshira deity lineage’s faith—later split into *kugutsu* puppeteers and shamans when that Oshira-sama evolved into puppetry; men assumed the *kugutsu* role, creating a division of labor where they journeyed through various regions. I find this an intensely fascinating question.

Then why did the kugutsu puppeteers seek settlement in the sansho communities of Nishinomiya and Awaji? When attempting to resolve this question, I inevitably encountered the Ebisu Saburō deity.

Now then—what exactly was this Ebisu Saburō deity?

According to Dr. Kida’s “A Study of Ebisu Saburō” (published in Ethnos and History’s “Lucky Gods Research Issue”), this deity constituted a composite of the Ebisu god and Saburō god—originally separate entities in antiquity, with Ebisu being equated to Ōkuninushi no Mikoto and Saburō to Kotoshironushi no Kami.

That Ebisu Saburō corresponds to Kotoshironushi no Kami remains evident even in popular tradition through examples like the Ebisu Shrine in Sanjō where Hyakudaifu is jointly enshrined; yet another considerably widespread and profound theory identifies him as Hiruko—child of the creator deities Izanagi and Izanami.

This conflation became so entrenched that people conventionally wrote “Hiruko” but read it as “Ebisu.”

However, all such theories emerged from later generations’ attempts to forcibly align shrine deities with the pantheon found in the Kojiki’s Age of the Gods volume—the original objects of Ebisu Saburō worship and their accompanying religious concepts must have been fundamentally different.

For instance, the Ken no maki (“Sword Scroll”) of Genpei Jōsuiki—which likely preserves contemporary folk traditions most faithfully—records: “As Lord Hiruko was a noble being who could not stand for three years after birth, they enshrined him upon the Ame no Iwakusufune boat and cast him adrift upon the great sea plain. When he washed ashore in Settsu Province, he became a deity governing the seas, manifesting as Lord Ebisu Saburō who resides at Nishinomiya.” Yet what truly matters here lies solely in Ebisu Saburō’s identity as a sea-governing deity—whether as Hiruko or Kotoshironushi makes little substantive difference.

All these amount to nothing more than hypothetical deities devised by later generations for explanatory convenience.

For the term “Ebisu” unambiguously denotes foreign ethnic groups—that it represents no indigenous Yamato deity requires no argument.

Consequently, that later peoples—having forgotten its true significance—retrofitted this deity into the Kojiki’s divine lineage stands beyond dispute.

In essence, Ebisu Saburō constituted a deity of non-Yamato ethnic origin—and those who upheld this faith must have been a maritime people by necessity of his oceanic dominion.

5. Hachiman and Ebisu Saburō Deities

Before considering the essence of the people who brought the Ebisu Saburō deity to Japan, there remained another problem requiring elucidation.
That was the faith in the Hachiman deity, which maintained an almost inseparably necessary relationship with Ebisu Saburō.
There was likely no other deity as enigmatic in its essence as Hachiman—though none had permeated Japan so thoroughly that one could not find its enshrined shrine even in the remotest villages and isolated regions.
The enshrinement of Emperor Ōjin as Hachiman Shrines' deity similarly constituted a later syncretism; in Ryōbu Shintō he had been called Hachiman Daibosatsu, demonstrating this had not necessarily been believed from the outset.
Even Usa Hachiman of Kyushu—the most representative among the Great Hachiman Deities—had initially been nothing more than a local god (Dr. Hagino Yoshiyuki).
When Emperor Shōmu undertook constructing Tōdai-ji's Great Buddha, divine assistance from this Hachiman had been sought; its ritual invocation as Tōdai-ji's tutelary deity marked Usa Hachiman's first connection to the central cultural sphere.
From where Mr. Yanagita Kunio elucidated the charcoal-burning magnate legend—establishing Sumiyaki Kogorō's tale as originating in Usa Hachiman's oldest mythology (*Hainan Shōki*)—Mr. Tsuchida Kyōson posited, by linking this to Yanagita's theory, that Emperor Shōmu's ritual invocation of Usa Hachiman aimed to obtain gold and copper required for constructing the Great Buddha, thereby concluding Usa Hachiman had been a deity worshipped by mining and metallurgy communities (*Jōdai no Kayō*).
I find this an extremely fascinating perspective.

However, what had to be further considered here was the point that just as the Ebisu Saburō deity was associated with the sea, the Hachiman deity too maintained maritime connections.
A striking example was the *Seino* dance of Usa Hachiman, which appeared to be a ceremonial dance from Tsukushi (per Mr. Kotera Yūkichi). Regarding its origins, according to a folk tradition recorded in Volume 39 of the Taiheiki, when Empress Jingū summoned all heavenly and earthly deities for a strategic council during the Three Korea Campaign, the great and small deities gathered at Kashima in Hitachi, yet Adabe no Isoara—who dwelled on the seafloor—alone refused to answer the summons.
This was because he had long kept company with aquatic fish and felt ashamed of his own ugliness from shells, algae, and insects clinging to his limbs.
Thereupon, when the gods played music to entice him, Isoara—overcome by emotion—finally emerged and proceeded to borrow the tide-controlling jewels from the Dragon Palace, thereby securing victory for the imperial army.
Furthermore, the Shika Myojin of Shika Island in Buzen enshrined this Isoara, and according to local legends there, the aforementioned divine play occurred not at Kashima but on these Shika shores; it was said that the Taiko Gongen (Drum-Beating Avatar) and Fuefuki Gongen (Flute-Playing Avatar) in nearby Aoya Village enshrined deities who had beaten drums and played flutes during that divine performance (Mr. Kotera’s *Modern Dance History Theory*).
The legend that the Sea God presented the tide-controlling jewels to Empress Jingū was widely distributed, and the Funehoko float appearing in Kyoto’s Gion Festival remained renowned for depicting this tale through puppets.
The fact that this *Seino* dance had a close connection with Usa Hachiman provided many implications; however, what proved more crucial lay in how this dance appeared performed not solely by humans but primarily through puppets—an aspect truly impossible to overlook when considering the origins of the *kugutsu* puppeteers.
According to Dr. Hamada Seiryō’s *Kugutsu of Kohyō Hachiman*, thirty-six archaic puppets existed at Yonjūtai Shrine—a subordinate shrine of Buzen Kohyō Hachiman Shrine.
(There had originally been forty.) These were taken by boat during Usa Hachiman’s Hōjō-e festival to perform the *Seino* dance.
The work was believed to date from the early Kamakura period.
It was also noted that at Yamashiro Imperial Villa Hachiman, two large puppets used in festivals under the name *Seino* were preserved.
The close relationship between *Seino* and Hachiman was thereby made clear; the fact that it was performed at sea indicated—as legends suggested—that the Hachiman deity either originated from the sea or maintained profound maritime connections.
One might conjecture that the tribe which had formed a cultural sphere centered on Chikushi in northern Kyushu wielded influence over seas spanning from the Korean Strait to Bohai Bay and the East China Sea region.
Could it not be supposed that Empress Jingū had utilized their power when crossing to the Korean Peninsula for this purpose?

Hachiman was the deity of this tribe. Ebisu Saburō was also one of its subsidiary or attendant deities. The theory found in *Nihongi* that the deity enshrined at Hirota Shrine in Nishinomiya is Amaterasu Ōmikami’s violent aspect (Aramitama no Mikoto) is clearly a later fabrication by scholars; rather, folk traditions such as those in *Nijūnisha Honen*—which equate the deity with Empress Jingū or identify it as one with Hachiman—are closer to the truth. According to local old traditions, Hirota Shrine enshrines a deity that manifested when Empress Jingū, during her Three Korea Campaign, docked her ships at Hyōgo Port in her former encampment and welcomed the imperial forces. Furthermore, the *Iwashimizu Hōjī Engi Shō* (cited in Dr. Kida Sadayoshi’s “A Study of Ebisu Saburō”) states: “Muko Mountain in Settsu Province is where Empress Jingū stationed thirty-eight thousand rough deities as warrior forces when subjugating foreign lands. It is still called Muko Mountain. The thirty-eight thousand rough deities reside at Nishinomiya,” it states. What do these things tell us? That Empress Jingū sought the cooperation of a northern Kyushu tribe that apparently held maritime supremacy; that Hachiman was this tribe’s deity; that the Hirota Shrine—which enshrined their ancestors in recognition of the tribe’s achievements—was one with Hachiman; and that Ebisu Saburō appeared to be Hachiman’s attendant deity, symbolizing the subordinate people.

Then, what kind of people constituted this tribe that enshrined Hachiman as their deity formed the foundation of this thesis; however, this was not easily determined.
What was thought to be one clue here was the existence of the cliff-carved stone Buddha clusters in the Usuki region of northern Kyushu.
Dr. Takuji Ogawa of Kyoto University conducted pioneering research on these, and according to his account, among them was a Fudō Myōō statue holding a snake in place of the usual lasso.
Moreover, this snake did not depict an ordinary serpent but rather showed a serpentine form with a head so large as to evoke the Indian venomous cobra.
In other words, this was not at first glance an ordinary Fudō Myōō, but rather gave the impression of being some Hindu deity.
Based on this, it could be surmised that a highly Indianized form of Buddhism had entered Guangdong via maritime routes through Siam, Annam, Cambodia, and other regions, subsequently being transmitted to northern Kyushu.
The center of these was none other than the aforementioned Hikosan.
And I would posit that the origin of the Hachiman deity was also rooted there.
The description in the famous places guide concerning Hatayama Hachimangū in Kamaguchi Village (Ura Village), Tsuna District, states:
"The sacred image of Hachiman Daijin enshrined here is said to take monastic form."
This sacred image was said to have manifested when Kūkai undertook ascetic practices at Usa Shrine, and temple records indicated it to be identical to that enshrined at Takaosan Jingo-ji in Yamashiro Province.
That is to say, while this might represent Ryōbu Shintō thought, the very fact of its manifestation in monastic form could not be mere Ryōbu Shintō—it bore a far stronger Buddhist character, particularly one colored by Indianized Buddhism.

Regarding Ōtani Hachimangū Shrine in Ōtani Village, Tsuna District: "The annual festival falls on June 15th. On this day they brew wine from wheat to present before the deity and serve it to visiting villagers for drinking. Though this wheat-made wine tastes unpleasant, it remains an unbroken tradition to this day." The Meisho Zue records that "this shrine was ritually transferred from Usa." Brewing alcohol from wheat finds no precedent in ancient Japanese customs. Does this not demonstrate that the Hachiman deity belongs to a different ethnic group? Furthermore, by examining Hachiman's connection with Hikosan on one hand, I believe we may comprehend why the Akiha Deity—the god of sacred fire in Shugendō—came to be enshrined alongside Hyakudaifu at Sanjō Ebisu Shrine. Since medieval times Hikosan stood as Shugendō's head temple, though its origins remain utterly obscure.

Moreover, their influence across northern Kyushu was not only immense and commanded absolute faith, but they even compelled the Tokugawa shogunate to recognize their extraterritorial rights.
They had presumably erected the doctrinal standards of a distinct form of Buddhism—one that differed in character from that of the central cultural sphere under the Yamato Imperial Court—namely Indianized Buddhism, and spread its religious authority.
Though I do not know in detail how research and theories in racial anthropology have progressed, Mr. Nishimura Shinji's theory claims to trace the intermingling of Indochinese ethnic bloodlines within the Japanese people through the transmission of wet-rice cultivation methods and other practices.
If we accept this premise, we may be able to explain through this Indochinese ethnic group both the existence of a tribal collective in northern Kyushu that practiced a distinct Indian lineage religion venerating these deities, and the heterogeneous cultural sphere formed by this group.

The tribe that worshipped Hachiman had secured maritime transportation rights while also mastering techniques of mining and metallurgy for gold and silver.
This knowledge was unknown to both the Tenson people of the Yamato Imperial Court and the indigenous Tsuchigumo or Ainu peoples.
Though they appear to have understood copper and iron mining, they lacked expertise in gold extraction and refining.
Thus while maintaining maritime control, this northern Kyushu tribe gradually penetrated deep into Japan through interconnected land-sea routes seeking gold, silver, and copper mines.
Wherever their footsteps reached, they left behind devotion to Hachiman.
I believe this explains why Hachiman shrines became so widely distributed across Japan.
Ebisu Saburō persisted steadfastly along the coasts as a sea deity.
The maritime god evolved into a deity of marine products, then patron of markets exchanging sea harvests for mountain yields and crafted goods for crops—ultimately transforming into a god of commerce.
Here we witness Ebisu Saburō worship taking root.
The inland-diffused Hachiman deity's path remains unclear but likely involved both military honors from Empress Jingū's Korean campaigns and metallurgical ties to weaponry—becoming both samurai guardian and commoners' demon-quelling god—a plausible development.

VI. The Amalgamation of Faiths and the Amalgamation of Techniques

The Hachiman deity and Ebisu Saburō deity maintained an inseparable relationship, with puppet manipulation invariably bound to these two deities.
However, one cannot consider the kugutsu affiliated with Usa Hachiman in Chikushi and those of Hirota Shrine in Nishinomiya, Settsu to have been entirely identical.
This stems from the fact that while the Nishinomiya kugutsu constituted sansho communities—groups that, as previously noted, remained unassimilated remnants among indigenous populations relegated to an outcast class—those associated with Usa Hachiman in Chikushi are believed to have belonged to a distinct ethnic group of Indochinese origin.

What comes to mind here is religious syncretism.
As discussed in “The Two Lineages of Puppets,” I consider that the puppets of the sansho communities’ kugutsu developed from ritual object worship associated with the Oshira deity lineage.
The fact that the Oshira deity—initially a hook-shaped tree branch—gradually evolved into human form was clarified through Mr. Yanagita’s exhaustive research.
Consequently, during the Oshira deity era, what had been mere puppets were now held in hand; through this act, shrine maidens attained divine status and gained spiritual power to commune with deities.
It stands to reason that the sansho communities of the Haji Clan—who managed funeral rites—interacted with the spirit realm and propagated among commoners a faith wielding Oshira’s power to repel calamities and attract blessings.
Moreover, when the Oshira deity—originally just a ritual object symbolizing divinity—came to represent the deity itself as its manifestation, they found it necessary to endow this god with personality and agency.
As Oshira worship strengthened its bonds with the populace and expanded its influence over human life, it increasingly had to assume human-like form.
Thus the puppets began to move.
The primitive kugutsu were born.

At this time, those they encountered would have been a group of Hachiman devotees traversing the provinces in search of gold and silver mines.
They were bearers of a new culture unknown to the sansho.
The sansho immediately absorbed this new culture.
They connected their faith to that of the Hachiman deity, particularly to Ebisu Saburō’s worship.
This was because they likely discerned that Ebisu Saburō—being the god of marine bounty, markets, and commerce—would bring many benefits to their economic lives.
What had likely been nothing more than simple wooden puppets up until then transformed into considerably splendid puppets of that era through their acquisition of miners’ superior puppet-making techniques.
Thus, the kugutsu completed their first stage of development.
This was the period when the sansho communities settled in Nishinomiya, I believe.
That is to say, it can be surmised that these two major groups interacted and blended in the Hyōgo Nishinomiya area—which appears to have served as the strategic base for the Hachiman faith tribe across the Kinki and Chūgoku regions.
Here, it becomes possible to combine Hirota Shrine in Nishinomiya with its auxiliary Ebisu Shrine and subsidiary Hyakudaifu Shrine, along with the sansho kugutsu—these four elements.

This composite relationship could be directly transposed to Awaji Island. Consulting Awaji’s gazetteers revealed scarcely a village lacking both Hachiman and Ebisu shrines—a duality epitomized by the Ebisu Shrine in Ichimura village, home to both this shrine and the Sanjō Hachiman associated with the Gennojō Troupe. What particularly demands attention is Ichimura’s toponymy itself. Situated midway between Fukura on Awa’s opposite shore and Sumoto—which faces Settsu, Izumi, and Kii provinces—the village occupies dead center within Awaji’s sole alluvial plain along the Ōhi River basin.

Any observer would conclude this geography naturally invited market establishment. The Meisho Zue’s entry on Ichimura Ebisu Shrine records: “Tradition holds that when Prince Shōtoku first instituted markets here, they enshrined Ebisu-no-mikoto as commerce’s guardian.” Tomonao adds: “This place marks our province’s primal market foundation.” [...] Ancient merchants reportedly gathered here monthly on six abstinence days for trade—a hub nationally renowned as Kokufu Market, from which “Ichimura” (“Market Village”) likely derives its name.

[...] By modern times only two markets endured: July’s Obon wares exchange and December’s New Year decorations trade. Villagers converged in bustle at these “calamity-warding” markets where rice cake vendors proliferated—unlucky-year patrons would rub these mochi over their bodies before discarding them into small ※[艹/大/巳] pits, as customs dictated.

This ritual fusion of Ebisu’s blessing ideology with Chimata-no-kami and Dōsojin beliefs finds spatial confirmation in the same text’s note: “The old market stood west of Ebisu Shrine.” Such records leave no room for doubt—Ichimura’s Sanjō district constituted Awaji’s ancient mercantile nucleus, likely hosting grand barter fairs as material distribution hub.

Further corroboration comes from Hirota Village’s Nakajō Ebisu Shrine account in Meisho Zue: “Villagers say this shrine once stood majestic until Tenshō-era flames reduced it to current modesty.”

This place was named Market.
As it stated, "It is surmised that in ancient times a market was established here," we could infer from this that there had been a central market in Ichimura, and that small markets had also been established in each village.

I shall once again take up the question of why the Nishinomiya kugutsu settled in Awaji's sansho communities.
That was where Awaji's representative market had been located.
And to this market was attached the worship of Ebisu Saburō.
Given this, it should come as no surprise that the kugutsu from Nishinomiya's sansho communities—separated only by the Akashi Strait—sought to migrate to this land.
Rather, as an inevitable consequence of their tribe's proliferation and expansion—driven by the need to extend their influence—they likely followed such connections to their fullest extent to disperse their people across all directions.
This became both a migration of culture and a propagation of faith, culminating in the distribution of distinctive customs.

Numerous folktales remain that attest to how the puppet operators of Sanjō district in Ichimura village indeed belonged to such a special tribe.
For example, until around the mid-Meiji period during their provincial tours, they would carry all daily necessities in their distinctive travel chests.
They transported everything from long hibachi braziers to iron kettles and teacups as standard practice; certain puppeteers were even said to have packed bags of straw ash for their hibachi when traveling.
Within their community, they appeared to take pride in this practice as demonstrating their puppet troupe's opulence during its golden age.
Yet was this not precisely what revealed how they received discriminatory treatment from the general populace as a special tribe?
The same ideology that deemed women in childbirth impure and enforced separate fires persistently compelled the sansho people to carry even hibachi ashes on their journeys.

Another thing that must not be overlooked is, as previously mentioned, the existence of the servant registry used by the Takatsukasa family in the Uemura Gennojō Troupe.
As clarified by Dr. Kida’s “A Study of Sansho Monks” (“Ethnicity and History,” Volume 4, Numbers 3-4), it was recorded that from the Heian period onward there already existed low-status servants attached under the name of sansho or sansho monks to major temples like Tō-ji and Enryaku-ji or aristocratic families such as the Konoe household, who served menial labor like cleaning and earthworks.
The servant registry of the Takatsukasa family in the Gennojō Troupe showed that they too were subordinate to this household; even in later generations when they no longer served as laborers and had come to specialize in performing arts like puppetry, they strictly maintained their tribal traditions by preserving the servant registry while simultaneously gaining various benefits through privileges such as performance licenses and the use of crest-bearing lanterns.

7. Conclusion (The Issue of Discrimination Against Itinerant Performers)

The time when I might bring conclusion to this disordered treatise of mine does not seem likely to arrive for some time yet. Through the happenstance of having finally conducted fieldwork in the home region of the Awaji Puppet Troupe—a long-cherished ambition—I have merely set down my thoughts haphazardly, lacking the capacity to properly organize what I had ordinarily contemplated regarding puppetry. In truth, many issues remain to be addressed hereafter. And in confronting those resolutions, I can do naught but confess my present utter inadequacy.

However, there remained one matter I could not remove from my thoughts.
It was the question of why puppet operators had since antiquity been despised as a lower class and treated as special communities.
Could it have been because they handled puppets?
If we consider the ideology—as recounted by Awaji elders—that puppets served as defiled substitutes for ritual suicide following one's lord in death, one might perhaps accept this explanation.
Yet when we consider that even those entirely unrelated to puppets—manzai reciters, sasara players, bowl beaters, and harukoma dancers—were similarly regarded as lowly class members, it becomes difficult to believe puppets alone caused this.
Then might it have been because they belonged to the sansho (alternately called sanjo or sanjo) tribe?
Indeed, since sansho communities served as subjugated servants attached to great temples and aristocratic clans on one level, this likely formed grounds for their contempt.
However, knowing that actors of entirely different origins were likewise despised under the designation of riverbed dwellers, one cannot simply accept they were treated as lowly solely due to being sansho communities.

Ultimately，we must likely trace back to more fundamental aspects for this issue as well．Even when examining Yorick’s seminal work *The History of Puppetry*，Duchartre’s monumental *The History of Italian Comedy*，Lantierac’s *History of Medieval Drama*，or indeed—as far as I knew—*The History of Greek Tragedy*，there appeared to be no factual basis for actors or kugutsu having been despised by the general populace．Furthermore，regarding Turkey’s Karagöz theatre，India’s sacred dramas，Tibet’s music dramas，Burma’s dance dramas，Java’s masked theatre，and others—with my limited knowledge—I had not heard of performers being regarded as low-class．However，what held special significance here was its manifestation among the Chinese people．

In the opening of Wang Guowei’s *History of Song and Yuan Drama*, it states: “歌舞之興。 [The rise of song and dance...]”
Did it not begin with the shamans of antiquity?
It states: “巫之興也。 [The rise of shamanism...]” showing the same significance as how our country’s origin of song and dance was attributed to the ritual dances of shrine maidens in the Iwato Kagura; then further regarding pre-Han performers, it said: “古之優人、其始皆以侏儒爲之。樂記稱優侏儒。 [In antiquity, performers were initially all dwarfs. The *Yueji* refers to them as performer-dwarfs.]” assigning them a position akin to medieval European court jesters.
Since then, Chinese performers had consistently formed a special class that developed under the protection of the imperial court or feudal lords, yet they tended to be viewed as a base people subjugated to each respective power.
For example, even in relatively recent times, there was a newspaper article I read over a decade ago reporting that a certain famous actor from Shanghai’s theater world had an affair with a certain high-ranking official’s wife—an affair that was discovered, resulting in him being subjected to several days of public exposure in the streets as punishment.
While this was fundamentally a judgment of their crimes, whereas the wife seemed to have merely received ordinary punishment, seeing that the other party—though called a renowned actor—was subjected to barbaric corporal punishment reminiscent of a bygone century demonstrated that their performer class was clearly discriminated against as a lower stratum of outcasts compared to ordinary people.

There was indeed a commonality between the contempt for performers among the Chinese people and that found within the Japanese people. What was it?

――I would like to add another fact here.
Among the African barbarian tribes, the Bushmen—the most primitive people—are a highly artistic people.
According to Große's *The Beginnings of Art*, they not only possess animal tales and creation myths but also constitute the only people in Africa with a plastic arts genius, combining superb line-drawing techniques with a vivid sense of color while knowing how to use mineral pigments from mountain regions as painting materials.
Therefore, despite far surpassing other ethnic groups in terms of such artistic culture, they are constantly despised and oppressed by other peoples as an inferior race.
Why did it come to be this way?

The problem ultimately appears to converge upon a singular point.
In humanity's primitive era, they all subsisted through hunting.
Then came the age of pastoralists pursuing water and grasslands.
Finally, upon entering the agricultural age, they became anchored to specific lands.
Yet certain tribes never attained the agricultural stage, persistently migrating through mountains and fields in pursuit of game.
Within agricultural peoples gradually awakened a reverence for the land, giving rise to earth mother goddess worship that regarded soil as the source of all life—a belief that on one hand branched into phallic cults among African and American Indian societies, while simultaneously creating nature-worship religions among Indian and Chinese civilizations.
Thus those without landholdings, those untouched by the earth goddess's blessings, came to be scorned as inferior races.
The relationship between African societies and the Bushmen finds explanation through this lens.

The Chinese people are the world's largest agricultural people, and their settlement in the Yellow River basin and entry into the agricultural age occurred in the remote antiquity of BCE. The fact that all aspects of their culture and thought are explained by this earth-mother-goddess faith associated with agriculture was clarified through the research of Dr. Tazaki Jingi. ("Shina Kodai Keizai Shisō oyobi Seido" [Ancient Chinese Economic Thought and Institutions]). Therefore, it was only natural that they, who neither settled on land nor engaged in agriculture, despised performers and their ilk.

The same could be observed in the relationship between all non-agricultural peoples and agricultural peoples in Japan.
Through Emperor Kōtoku’s Taika Reforms, all people had ostensibly become equal citizens, but in reality, those distinctions remained firmly intact.
In ancient Japan, the populace was divided by the ruling class into three major categories: good citizens, lowly citizens, and miscellaneous households.
The designation of "good citizens" applied exclusively to agricultural workers.
The lowly citizens comprised five groups: government households, retainers, government slaves, private slaves, and tomb keepers (Dr. Kida Teikichi).
All were subjected to servant-slave conditions, with only the tomb keepers—responsible for grave maintenance and mortuary rites—later becoming associated with the Haji Clan when it assumed control of funeral ceremonies.
Miscellaneous households engaged in technical crafts and miscellaneous duties beyond agriculture, encompassing occupations such as the *Tama-zukuri-be* (Jade Artisans’ Guild), *Yuge-be* (Bowyers’ Guild), armorers, *Gaku-ko* (Music Households), *Funa-ko* (Boatwrights), *Sake-ko* (Sake Brewers), *Kusuri-ko* (Apothecaries), miscellaneous artisans, falconers, along with horse breeders, dog breeders, weavers’ guilds, and the Haji Clan.
Though nominally classified as commoners under Emperor Shōmu, celebrants, prostitutes, entertainers, and others unaffiliated with these occupations were scorned as lowly outcasts by good citizens—a consequence of their status as vagrants excluded even from the ruling class’s recognized miscellaneous households, ultimately stemming from an ideology that venerated agriculture.

In Kyoto—the wellspring of ancient culture—various vagrants had been coming to offer New Year’s blessings until the early Meiji era.
From Yamato came manzai reciters, harukoma dancers, Choroken performers, daikagura troupes, Fukusuke entertainers, torioi chanters, and most peculiarly, the “monoyoshi.” —The term “monoyoshi,” according to elders’ accounts, referred to a settlement of tenei-byō patients located north of Matsubara-dori Kamo River Bridge’s eastern end—where a small Inari shrine stands today—in what is now the Miyagawachō red-light district. They were ordinarily forbidden from entering the city proper but permitted only once a year on January 2nd to go begging within the municipal bounds.
On that day, they hung strips of black cloth from their sedge hats to cover their faces and walked through town, standing at the eaves of each house to beg for alms while calling themselves “monoyoshi.”
The fact that tenei-byō patients and prostitutes resided adjacent to each other (while the current Miyagawachō red-light district extends near Gojō, in ancient times it was likely limited to the vicinity of Shijō), along with the lack of significant distinction between the begging of tenei-byō patients and that of entertainers—all these are considered to result from the Japanese people's exclusive reverence for farmers who sustained themselves through their own labor on the land.

Postscript.
After completing this manuscript, I noticed that Mr. Kitatani Hōgin’s *Bunraku Konjaku Monogatari* mentions the founding of the Bunraku-za.
According to this account, a man named Uemura Bunraku-ken (original surname Masaki) emerged from Kariya in Awaji and staged puppet jōruri performances on the western riverside at the southern end of Kōzu Bridge (present-day Kōzu 4-chome). This marked the founding of the Bunraku-za, though the era remains uncertain—being cited as either Meiwa or Tenmei.
In any case, this was over a hundred years after the founding of the Takemoto-za, and it generally corroborates both my own theories and the accounts given by the leaders of the Awaji Puppet Troupe.