# Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan/Series 1/Volume 3/Part 2/The Yonezawa Dialect

THE YONEZAWA DIALECT.
BY
C. H. DALLAS, Esq.
———o———
The dialect treated in this paper is that spoken in a large irregularly shaped plain of some 250 square miles in area, lying about midway between Sendai Bay and Niigata, just on the west of that central range of mountains which stretches like a back-bone from Kôdzuké to Awomori.
The word Yonézawa formerly designated the territory of the Uyésugi family, but being the name neither of a shiu nor of a kôri should perhaps now be restricted to their castle-town, the present capital of the Okitama Ken. In common parlance, however, the name is still extended to the whole of the plain at the southern extremity of Uzen, (the new southern division of Déwa), of which a part belongs to the prefecture of Yamagata, a handsome town about 421/2 ri to the north. Besides the central range already referred to, which marks the boundary between Déwa and Ôshiu, lofty mountains separate this plain from Aidzu on the south, and Echigo, and Sakata on the west, so that it is entirely hemmed in by these natural barriers, except on the north, where a narrow gorge communicates with Yamagata and the rest of Déwa.
​It is said, but I have no means of testing the accuracy of the statement, that some of the peculiarities of this dialect are to a certain extent common to the language current in the rest of Déwa and the adjoining monster province of Ôshiu; but that the nasal intonation does not there acquire that intensity which makes a Yonézawa peasant hopelessly unintelligible to a man from Tôkiô. It is possible therefore that some of the facts put forward in this paper may apply to the more widely diffused dialect of Ôshiu, but I limit my responsibility to the assertion of their existence in the dialect of Yonézawa, where I have collected them from the lips of the natives.
Taking the ordinary language of Tôkiô as the standard for comparison, the Yonézawa dialect differs from if,
    (1) In its peculiar intonation.
    (2) In the pronunciation of certain syllables.
    (3) In the meaning attached to certain words.
    (4) In the possession of certain words not known in Tôkiô.
    (5) In its phraseology and choice of expressions.
(1).—The intonation is exceedingly unmelodious, being deep, gruff, and intensely nasal, both nose and teeth being kept tightly closed. Among the lower classes this is aggravated by a peculiar lisp, from which as a rule the educated men are free. The difference of the mode of articulation is so great, that apart from the other peculiarities of the dialect, it is alone sufficient to render it a matter of no small difficulty for unaccustomed ears to understand the most ordinary sentence.
(2).—In the pronunciation of the syllables a distinction is made between イ and ヰ both of which are in Tôkiô called i, the latter only retaining this sound, the former being called é. Thus they commence the syllabary é, ro, ha, and say énu ‘a dog,’ éshi ‘a stone,’ but ido ‘a well,’ isha ‘a doctor.’
As at Tôkiô, no distinction is made between the syllables エ and 𛄡, but the initial Y sound is invariably strongly pronounced as Yéchizen, Yéchigo. The ​pronunciation according to the spelling Echizen, which from its use in the columns of the Japan Mail I imagine to have the sanction of the highest authority, is not only never heard, but is hardly understood. ‘Echigo’ would be understood to mean the wild strawberry.
The series of aspirate sounds (in Tôkiô ha, hi, fu, be, ho), all take an initial F., thus fa, fi, fu, fe, fo. In the mouths of many of the samurai this F often becomes Fü, thus füana, füata, füato, but the lower classes say decidedly fana, fata, fato, for ‘a flower,’ ‘a flag’ ‘a pigeon.’ This interchange of the initial sound of F and H is of such frequent occurrence in philology as not to require any comment, but I may perhaps mention it as occurring in China, where Foochow becomes Hookchow in the mouths of the Cantonese, while every schoolboy is familiar with the fact of the ancient digamma having been replaced by the rough breathing.
In the T series, チ is pronounced chi as at Tôkiô by the majority of the educated class, but among the common people it becomes a lisping tsi, and as a natural sequence ヂ is pronounced dzi. In the pronunciation of the contracted syllables usually spelt cha, cho, chu (for chi-ya, chi-yo, chi-yu) it is to be noted that the Y of the second component part is preserved: as tsya, tsyo, tsyu. Students of Chinese will remark that this change of ch into ts is identical with one of the differences existing between the Peking and Nanking dialects.
In the S series (at Tôkiô sa, shi, su, se, so) the sh appears to be transposed, and the series runs sa, si, su, she, so. This also chiefly applies to the lower classes who lisp all the sibilants, and say shenshei for sensei, and for ‘seventy-one’ say sitsi dzyu-itsi. The word for ‘seven’ (shichi), which in Tôkiô is pronounced almost in one syllable, has its two syllables distinctly pronounced by all classes, and is made to rhyme with ichi. ヅ has identically the same sound as ヂ, the Yonezawa dialect following the Tôkiô ​practice of ignoring the natural distinction between them.
The contracted syllables usually. spelled ja, jo, ju, are pronounced dzya, dzyo, dzyu.
The R in the syllable ri, the pronunciation of which varies so much in different parts of Japan, is in most words absolutely silent, thus two rios is ni’iyô.
The diphthong ai, especially in the word nai, is commonly pronounced éi, thus wakaranéi.
With regard to the sounds of the consonants, the impure nasal n before the g, which is a characteristic of the Tôkiô pronunciation, is intensified in Yonézawa, where the dialect delights in inserting this same n before d, z, and j; and its equivalent m before b. Thus I have heard ‘a spoon’ (saji) called sandzi, which, as the Governor at that time happened to be a ‘Sanji,’ was slightly confusing. With many persons the insertion of this n or m seems to be the only mode of marking the distinction between the sharp and flat mutes; k, t, p, except when doubled, commonly taking the sounds of g, d, b, while the genuine g, d, b, become ng, nd, mb, as wadagusi, iyanda, ambunai. Iku (to go) appears to be an exception; it is always pronounced ingu.
(3).—Of the words used in a sense totally different to that which they bear in Tôkiô, the list that I have been able to collect is not a long one; but being all words in common use they are intensely bewildering to one unsuspicious of their local meaning. Thus soon after my arrival I remember feeling no little astonishment at hearing a fine powerful looking young fellow, who had been pointed out to me as having distinguished himself in the war, decline a challenge to box with the words kowaküte sarenaish’! It was not till some time afterwards that I ​discovered that kowai is used only in the sense of ‘fatigued,’ its ordinary meaning ‘afraid’ being invariably rendered by okkanai.
Wakaru, not only means ‘to divide’ and ‘to understand,’ but also, and more generally, ‘to be able’ ‘to be sufficient’ ‘to be suitable.’ Thus: Kore de mo wakaru, ‘this is enough.’ Mijikakute mo wakaru, ‘though it is short it will do.’ Omokute hitori de wakerangi, ‘it is too heavy, I can’t carry it by myself.’
Dekiru and deru seem to have in some sort interchanged meanings, deru being used almost exclusively in the sense of ‘to be finished’; mo hambun deta kara, tôkô goro deru, ‘it is half done already, so it will be finished about the 10th.’ Dekiru on the other hand is never used in the sense of ‘to finish’ ‘to be able,’ but in that only of ‘going’ or ‘coming’ (the meaning by the way of the characters with which it is written .) Thus: Tadaima dekita, ‘He has just gone out; Asu deki béi, ‘He will probably come to-morrow.’
Ippuku, ‘one puff,’ is used for one cup-ful (ippai). The invitation ‘Come in and have a cup of tea,’ if given at the door or near the house of the speaker is usually couched in the words Yotte ippusu yokambéish’, while a guest is pressed to take more tea with ‘ima ippuku.’
Some important differences are to be noticed in the use of the pronouns. Watakushi and sessha are used by persons of some pretension to education, when speaking to a superior, but the word in everyday use by all classes is ore. For this, or rather for its incorrect form ora, the country-folks have a plural orada, while the townspeople and samurai use the regular plural orera.
Ware, which in Tôkiô as well as in the written language indicates the first person, is the ordinary word for ‘you’ in addressing inferiors.
Kisama, in Tôkiô usually expressive of extreme contempt, is used politely and familiarly among equals, and has the plural kisama-gata. It is also commonly employed ​to inferiors, and is in that case expressive of kindness and courtesy.
Omaye is respectful, and is used to superiors only.
Omaye sama expresses extreme deference, and was used in addressing the Prince.
Anata is never employed at ail.
As in Tôkiô boku and kimi are the words chiefly used for ‘I’ and ‘you’ by students, while their elders delight to display their Chinese scholarship by employing midomo, sokka, kiden, sokomoto.
For pronouns of the third person, though koré, soré, and aré are known, the most usual words are kaitsu, koitsu, saitsu, soitsu and aitsu (contractions for kono yatsu, sono yatsu and ano yatsu) which are used without any idea of rudeness, and for things as well as for persons. I may mention here that the word yatsu which in Tôkiô has the contemptuous meaning of our word ‘fellow,’ has in Yonezawa the kindly and familiar meaning of the same term. Thus riko na yatsu, teinei na yatsu are complimentary expressions for ‘a clever man,’ ‘a polite man,’ while an intimate friend is described as ‘kokoro-yasui yatsu.’
(4.) Of the words peculiar to the dialect many of those I have noted have no equivalents in Tôkiô, the articles they represent being as little known as the names; but specimens of nearly all of them have been presented to the museum of The Asiatic Society. To this class belong:
* Nizo.—A straw hat shaped like an inverted trowel, fitting closely to the back of the head, and projecting beyond the forehead.
* Sakata-bôshi.—A straw helmet ornamented with coloured cotton, with a deep fringe falling over the shoulders.
* Kugu-bôshi.—A hood and cape in one reaching down to the knees, made of a grass called Kugu.
* Suso-boso.—Hakama tight at the ancle, worn by both men and women of the samurai class.
* Tachi-tsuke.—A similar garment to the preceding, but without the board in the back, worn by the lower classes of both sexes. ​
* Habaki.—Gaiters made of reeds.
* Jimbei.—Straw shoes.
* Igara-jimbei.—The same shaped shoe made of rashes (igara).
* Oso-fuki.—A straw protection for the toes worn with the waraji.
* Te no ura.—Similar to the last, made of plaited straw, and coming more under the foot.
* Fuka-gutsu.—Straw boots reaching to the knee.
* Take bo hora.—Clogs made of split bamboo used by children for sliding.
* Kanjiki.—Snow shoes made of the shoot of a tree bent to an oval, with only a string across to fasten it to the foot.
* Kana-kanjiki.—A bar of iron with three spikes worn under the foot to prevent slipping.
* Tasu.—A basket, something like a knapsack, carried on the back, made of strips of cane (matatabi).
* Hakigo.—A basket either of bamboo or cane, also carried on the back, but of a different shape.
* Mekkai.—A scoop made of withes to carry sand or snow.
* Bokkai.—A wooden shovel with the blade slightly hollowed.
* Suna-haki.—A wooden spade with a flat blade and very long handle.
It will be observed that almost ail the foregoing are the names of conveniences necessitated by the snow, which lies from the middle of December to the middle of March, and even on the level ground attains a depth of five or six feet.
The remaining words, representing things and ideas not specially pertaining to the locality, have equivalents in the language of Tôkiô which I have in most cases appended in addition to the translation:
| Abakeru | to romp, | Odokeru. |
| Baita | firewood in lengths but not split. N. B. The word maki is unknown. | firewood in lengths but not split. N. B. The word maki is unknown. |
| Beko | a bull or cow | Ushi. |
| Bero | the tongue | Shita. ​ |
| Buijo noru | to swing | Buranko suru. |
| Bimbô Bippô Bôroku | bad | Warui. |
| Chinto Chikuto | a little | Chitto. |
| Dada | mother | Haha. |
| Da sama Daise Da tsa | mother | Okkasan. |
| Hen nashi | useless | Muyeki. |
| Jabara | a very elastic crape | Shibori banashi. |
| Kasé | an ornament for the hair, usually of coloured crape | Atama kake no kiré. |
| Kata de | an interjection especially used with negations. | an interjection especially used with negations. |
| Megoi | dear little | Kawairashii. |
| Mogosai | pity | Aware. |
| Najô | what sort? how? | Donua. Ikaga. |
| Ńŭnai (pron: nŭnéi) | yes | Hai. |
| Ogurisama | the lady of the house | Okusan. |
| Oyagenai | lamentable | Kuyashii. |
| Patanto | bang | Battari. |
| Perori Perotto | all | Mina. |
| Shaiko wa nai Sunashi na | prying, gossiping. |
| Taka-ashi | stilts | Take-mŭma. |
| Tentsu | a lie | Uso. |
| Tepikapite Tesozorashii | fidgetty |
| Tetchiri | exact, plenty | Kippari. Takusan. |
| Ŭdatei | disagreeable | Iya na. |
| Utsukeru | to romp | Odokeru. |
| Warashi | a lad of 5 or 15. (cf. warabe in book language.) ​ | a lad of 5 or 15. (cf. warabe in book language.) ​ |
| Yachimuchi | valiant | Isamashii. |
| Yachamucha | headstrong | Muyami. |
(5).—Of the phraseology and choice of expressions in the dialect the most marked features are its fondness for the simple forms of the verb, and the recurrence of the suffix shi, and the words Nŭnai and Béi. The polite verb masu or masuru, behind which at Tôkiô the tyro in the language can so comfortably veil his ignorance of she simple forms, has no place in this dialect; gozaru woreover is never heard. By way of replacing them a sentence is rendered polite by tacking on to the last word the suffix shi. Thus: sayô de gozarimasu, is rendered by sô dash,’ koré desŭ ka by koré kash,’ or more often koitsu kash.’ Respecting the origin, derivation, or history of this suffix, I have been able to obtain absolutely no information. I have met with itas far south as the Takuhara Toge, some ten ri from Nikkô, and have traced it from there all through the Aidzu country and Yonézawa and have heard it also in Echigo. At Yamagata, already referred to, where the Môgami dialect is spoken, the shi is not heard, nor have I observed it on the Ôshiu kaidô along which, as far as Fukushima, I have travelled eight times.
Nŭnai meaning ‘yes’ corresponds to Hai, but is rather more decidedly affirmative. There is something inimitably comic about the pronunciation of this word, especially in the mouths of the women: the n is prolonged indefinitely and at length the vowel comes out with a jerk. For the ejaculation to denote attention while listening to a superior the most common word is ka, but hai is sometimes used.
For the formation of the future, or affirmation of probability, bei is used to the almost total exclusion of the forms in ô and de arô, thus, kuru béi, sô dambéi (for de aru béi), Béi is a contraction for the béshi of the written language, and its use in colloquial is said to be the distinctive characteristic of the dialects of Ôshiu and all the northern part of this nameless main island. It is joined to the present indicative of verbs of the first conjugation, and to the root or present indicative of those of the second.
​The two hardest worked words in the dialect are damé and yokambéi. To attempt to render in English all their shades of meaning would exhaust a dictionary. Suffice it that the primary meaning of damé is ‘of no use,’ while yokambéi means literally ‘will be good.’ They are generally exactly antithetical; for instance ‘Will it do if I go to-morrow’ is Asu itte yokambei kash’?—Asu dume dash’, ‘Tomorrow will be too late.’
The meaningless né so much used by the lower classes at Tôkiô is changed into na and is used by every one. In polite conversation it takes the suffix shi and becomes nash’. Occasionally a yokel, in his desire to be excruciatingly polite, attaches the shi to the preceding word as well; as sô dash nash’! Amari samuish’ nash’! But this is reprehensible and betokens a sad want of education.
Sa is par excellence the postposition of the dialect. Besides embracing all the ideas of motion towards and rest at, if occurs in such phrases as Tsukuye sa oite o kure. ‘Put it on the table’ Uchi sa wasurete kita, ‘I left it at home. Oboko sa kureta. ‘I gave it to the child’
An expression of constant occurrence is Najô na konda which is a contraction for Nani jô na koto da, (jô meaning ‘item,’ ‘particular.’) It is used interrogatively in the sense of ‘what is the matter?’ and also reflectively to express surprise or inability to answer a question. Najô is much used in all interrogations. I was once politely asking a little lady of about eleven years old, after the welfare of her mother who had recently been ill, and for want of this word utterly failed to make myself understood, especially as none of the words that I knew for ‘mother’ seemed to be familiar to her. I was abandoning the attempt in despair, when a student came to my rescue with Da sama wa najô de o idenashita kash’, which elicited the prompt answer ‘shidai ni iish.’’
San as a title is of quite recent introduction, and its use is considered a sign of affectation, and is ridiculed as an imitation of a cockneyism of the metropolis. A few years ago the word was not known, and a gentleman said Sama ​at full length when speaking of or to the Prince or a member of the Prince’s family, and to his own father and elder brothers. For all other persons the title was Dono, used not with the family name, but with the na or given name. The lower classes use Sama more generally and have for it the contractions sa and tsa.
The favorite word for feeling unwell is yameru: ha ga yameta, atama ga yameta are the only expressions ever heard for ‘I have a tooth-ache,’ a head-ache, &c.’ It is written with the character for itameru 痛 not with that for yamai 病 as given in Dr. Hepburn’s Dictionary.
Amari is especially used in the two phrases amari ii meaning ‘with pleasure’ or simply ‘yes,’ and amari yokambéi ‘that will be the very thing.’
Nambu does duty both for ikutsu and ikura (how many, how much,) and nambu ka for sazo, as Nambu ka o kowakatta beish’! How tired you must be!
There are a few other words which are known, but not much used in Tôkiô, but which are specially affected by the Yonezawa people of all classes:
Oboko, for instance, is almost the only word for children of both sexes.
Samazama and Shuju which in Tôkiô are considered to belong to the book style, replace iro-iro with the meaning ‘various’ ‘all sorts of.’
Zôsa-nai is always used for ‘easy’ to the exclusion of ‘yasashii’ which is never heard.
Itamashii ‘deplorable,’ tawai-nai ‘senseless’ and shôshi ‘pitiful’ are all common; and a coolle makes believe to decline a second cup of saké with the phrase Ora fa o shôshi na!
Kusai (stinking) is used in the locution mi-kusai ‘ugly,’ ‘unpleasing to the sight,’ and sounds to Tôkiô ears singularly forcible and inelegant.
It will of course be understood that in collecting the foregoing words and phrases I have not attempted to exhaust the peculiar expressions of the dialect; but on the ​eve of quitting the district I threw together those facts which had from time to time come under my observation, in the belief that, to those who from a philological point of view are making a study of the Japanese language, no contribution of new material however humble can be totally devoid of interest.
C. H. D.
Tôkiô, March, 1875.
* ↑ It is stated that the distinction is observed at Kiôto, as well as all ever Kiushiu; it is certainly marked in Satsuma where the initial sound of ヂ is that of the French J, ヅ retaining that of the English.
* ↑ This observation must be borne in mind in pronouncing the local words given in a subsequent paragraph, since to avoid confusion the spelling does not imitate the pronunciation, but except in contractions allows the kana.