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THE 

NO  PLAYS 
OF  JAPAN 


TRANSLATIONS    BY 
ARTHUR    WALEY 


AHUXDHEDAMDSEVEHTYCHINESE  POEMS 

i  ,-tter    translations    have    appeared 

of    ChiiMM    poetry.     He    haa    given    the 

real  feeling  of  Chinese  poetry,  fta  clarity, 

iU    sujcreation.     ita     perfect     humanity." 

— AMV    I.O\\KU.. 

"A    magnificent  volume." 

— JAMKS  L.  FORD,  AVir  York  Herald 

MOKE  TRANSLATIONS  FROM  THE  CHINESE 
"To  those  fortunate  propl.-  \.h<>  could 
and  did  enjoy  A  Hundred  «n</  5 

•«•      1'orm*      I      \\oulil      n-i-oinrncnd 
Mart    Translation*    fiom    thr     Chinese." 
— Baltimore    K* 


At  all  book*clltrt'  or   from  the  Publisher 

ALFRED  A.   KNOPF,   New   York 


,THE  NO  PLAYS  OF 
JAPAN  // 


BY 

ARTHUR  WALEY; 


NKW  YOI5K 

ALFRED  •  A  •  KNOPF 
1922 


COPYRIGHT,  19H 
BY  ARTHUR  WALEY 

Published  March,  19tt 


Is* 


0et  «f»  and  printed  by  Ur  Fa«-Bo//oM  Co..  Binphamton,  N.  Y. 
Piper  f*r*i»k«d  bg  W.  r  Ltkcrlngton  *  O»..  JVetr  York.  N.  Y. 
Bound  by  tkr  Plimpton  Prcit.  Norwood,  Matt. 


MANUFACTURED      IN      THE     UNITED      8TATK8     OF      AMERICA 


TO 
DOAMI 


CONTENTS 


KEY  TO  PLANS 
PLANS 
INTRODUCTION 
NOTE  ON  BUDDHISM 

ATSUMORI 
IKUTA 

TSUNEMASA 


CHAPTER  I 


CHAPTER  II 


KUMASAKA 
EBOSHI-ORI 
BENKEI  ON  THE  BRIDGE 


CHAPTER  III 


KAGEKIYO 
HACHI  NO  KI 
SOTOBA  KOMACHI 

UKAI 

AYA  NO  TSUZUMI 

AOI  NO  UYE 

KANTAN 

III!    HOKA  PRIESTS 
HAGOROMO 


CHAPTER  IV 


CHAPTER  V 


PAGE 

12,  14 

13,  15 
17-29 
30-32 

36-44 
45-50 
51-56 


60-68 
69-80 
81-86 

89-99 
100-112 
113-124 

127-133 
134-141 
142-151 

15S-164 
165-175 
176-184 


CONTENTS 
CHAPTER  VI 

PACK 

TANIKO  185-193 

IKENIYE  194-200 

HATSUYUKI  201-204 

HAKU  RAKUTEN  205-213 

CHAPTER  VII 

SUMMARIES  217-249 

CHAPTER  VIII 

FARCE  (KYOGEN)  253-257 

SHORT  BIBLIOGRAPHY  258-259 

APPENDICES  260-268 


ILLUSTRATIONS 
YOUNG  WOMAN'S  MASK  Frontispiece 

FACING 
PA01 

YOUNG  MAN'S  MASK  70 

DEMON  MASK  152 

THE  ANGEL  IN  HAGOROMO  176 

I/I  TSU  216 

THE  DRAGON  LADY  IN  AM  A  234 

YUYA  READING  THE  LETTER  238 

YAMAUBA  (THE  LADY  OF  THE  MOUNTAINS)  244 


KEY  TO  PLAN  I 

THEATRE  SET  UP  IN  THE  RIVER-BED  AT  KYOTO  IN  1464;  ONAMI'S  TROUPE  ACTED  ON 
IT  FOR  THREE  DAYS  "WITH  IMMENSE  SUCCESS." 

A  The  Shogun. 

B  His  attendants. 

C  His  litter. 

D  His  wife. 

E  Her  ladies. 

F  Her  litter. 

G  Auditorium. 

H  Stage. 

I  Musicians. 

J  HashigakarL 

K  Gakuya,  served  as  actors'  dressing-room  and  musicians'  room. 


12 


KEY  TO  PLAN  II 
MODERN  STAGE 

A    The  Stage. 

B    The  shite's  Pillar. 

C    Shite's  seat,  also  called  "  Name-saying  seat." 

D    Metsuke-bashira,  Pillar  on  which  the  actor  fixes  his  eye. 

E    Sumi,  the  corner. 

F     Wakis  Pillar,  also  called  the  Prime  Minister's  Pillar. 

G     Wakis  seat. 

H     JPakis  direction-point.     (The  point  he  faces  when  in  his  normal  position.) 

I    Flute-player's  Pillar. 

J     Atoza,  the  Behind-space. 

K    Kagami-ita,  the  back-wall  with  the  pine-tree  painted  on  it. 

L    The  musicians.     (Represented  by  the  four  small  circles.) 

M  The  stage-attendant's  place.  (A  stage-hand  in  plain  clothes  who  fetches 
and  carries.) 

N  Kirido,  "  Hurry-door,"  also  called  "  Forgetting-door  "  and  "  Stomach-ache- 
door";  used  by  the  chorus  and  occasionally  by  actors  making  a  hur- 
ried exit.  Vide  Hokazo,  p.  205. 

O    Chorus,  the  leader  sits  near  P. 

P    The  Nobles'  door  (now  seldom  used). 

Q    The  Hashigakari. 

R    The  kyogen's  seat. 

S    The  three  pine-branches. 

T    Shirasu,  a  gravel-path. 

U  Kizahashi,  steps  from  stage  to  auditorium,  formerly  used  by  an  actor  sum- 
moned to  speak  with  the  Shogun. 

V    Actors'  dressing-room. 

W    Curtain  between  Q  and  V. 

X    Dressing-room  window. 

Y    Musicians'  room. 


14 


15 


INTRODUCTION 

The  theatre  of  the  West  is  the  last  stronghold  of  realism.  No  one 
treats  painting  or  music  as  mere  transcripts  of  life.  But  even  pioneers 
of  stage-reform  in  France  and  Germany  appear  to  regard  the  theatre 
as  belonging  to  life  and  not  to  art.  The  play  is  an  organized  piece 
of  human  experience  which  the  audience  must  as  far  as  possible  be 
allowed  to  share  with  the  actors. 

A  few  people  in  America  and  Europe  want  to  go  in  the  opposite 
direction.  They  would  like  to  see  a  theatre  that  aimed  boldly  at 
stylization  and  simplification,  discarding  entirely  the  pretentious  lum- 
ber of  19th  century  stageland.  That  such  a  theatre  exists  and  has  long 
existed  in  Japan  has  been  well-known  here  for  some  time.  But  hitherto 
very  few  plays  have  been  translated  in  such  a  way  as  to  give  the 
Western  reader  an  idea  of  their  literary  value.  It  is  only  through 
accurate  scholarship  that  the  "soul  of  No"  can  be  known  to  the  West. 
Given  a  truthful  rendering  of  the  texts  the  American  reader  will 
supply  for  himself  their  numerous  connotations,  a  fact  which  Jap- 
anese writers  do  not  always  sufficiently  realize.  The  Japanese 
method  of  expanding  a  five-line  poem  into  a  long  treatise  in 
order  to  make  it  intelligible  to  us  is  one  which  obliterates  the  structure 
of  the  original  design.  Where  explanations  are  necessary  they  have 
been  given  in  footnotes.  I  have  not  thought  it  necessary  to  point  out 
(as  a  Japanese  critic  suggested  that  I  ought  to  have  done)  that,  for 
example,  the  "mood"  of  Komachi  is  different  from  the  "mood"  of 
Kumasaka.  Such  differences  will  be  fully  apparent  to  the  American 
reader,  who  would  not  be  the  better  off  for  knowing  the  technical 
name  of  each  kurai  or  class  of  No.  Surely  the  Japanese  student  of 
Shakespeare  does  not  need  to  be  told  that  the  kurai  of  "Hamlet"  is 
different  from  that  of  "Measure  for  Measure"? 

It  would  be  possible  to  burden  a  book  of  this  kind  with  as  great  a 
mass  of  unnecessary  technicality  as  irritates  us  in  a  smart  sale-cat- 
alogue of  Japanese  Prints.  I  have  avoided  such  terms  to  a  consider- 
able extent,  treating  the  plays  as  literature,  not  as  some  kind  of 
Delphic  mystery. 

17 


18  INTRODUCTION 

In  this  short  introduction  I  shall  not  have  space  to  give  a  complete 
description  of  modern  No,  nor  a  full  history  of  its  origins.  But  the 
reader  of  the  translations  will  find  that  he  needs  some  information  on 
these  points.  I  have  tried  to  supply  it  as  concisely  as  possible,  some- 
times in  a  schematic  rather  than  a  literary  form. 

These  are  some  of  the  points  about  which  an  American  reader  may 
wish  to  know  more: 

(1)  THE  NO  STAGE. 

Something  of  its  modern  form  may  be  seen  from  Plate  II  and 
from  the  plans  on  pp.  10-13.  The  actual  stage  (A)  is  about  18  feet 
square.  On  the  boards  of  the  back  wall  is  painted  a  pine-tree;  the 
other  sides  are  open.  A  gallery  (called  hashigakari)  leads  to  the 
green-room,  from  which  it  is  separated  by  a  curtain  which  is  raised 
to  admit  the  actor  when  he  makes  his  entry.  The  audience  sit  either 
on  two  or  three  sides  of  the  stage.  The  chorus,  generally  in  two  rows, 
sit  (or  rather  squat)  in  the  recess  (0).  The  musicians  sit  in  the 
recess  (J)  at  the  back  of  the  stage,  the  stick-drum  nearest  the  "gallery," 
then  the  two  hand-drums  and  the  flute.  A  railing  runs  round  the 
musician's  recess,  as  also  along  the  gallery.  To  the  latter  railing  are 
attached  three  real  pine-branches,  marked  S  in  the  plan.  They  will 
be  seen  in  Plate  II.  The  stage  is  covered  by  a  roof  of  its  own, 
imitating  in  form  the  roof  of  a  Shintd  temple. 

(2)  THE  PERFORMERS. 

(a)  The  Actors. 

The  first  actor  who  comes  on  to  the  stage  (approaching  from  the 
gallery)  is  the  waki  or  assistant.  His  primary  business  is  to  explain 
the  circumstances  under  which  the  principal  actor  (called  shite  or 
"doer")  came  to  dance  the  central  dance  of  the  play.  Each  of  these 
main  actors  (waki  and  shite)  has  "adjuncts"  or  "companions." 

Some  plays  need  only  the  two  main  actors.  Others  use  as  many 
as  ten  or  even  twelve.  The  female  roles  are  of  course  taken  by  men. 
The  waki  is  always  a  male  role. 

(b)  The  Chorus. 

This  consists  of  from  eight  to  twelve  persons  in  ordinary  native 
dress  seated  in  two  rows  at  the  side  of  the  stage.  Their  sole  function 
is  to  sing  an  actor's  words  for  him  when  his  dance-movementa  pre- 


INTRODUCTION  19 

vent  him  from  singing  comfortably.     They  enter  by  a  side-door  before 
the  play  begins  and  remain  seated  till  it  is  over. 
(c)  The  Musicians. 

Nearest  to  the  gallery  sits  the  "big-drum,"  whose  instrument  rests  on 
the  ground  and  is  played  with  a  stick.  This  stick-drum  is  not  used 
in  all  plays. 

Next  comes  a  hand-drummer  who  plays  with  thimbled  finger;  next 
a  second  who  plays  with  the  bare  hand. 

Finally,  the  flute.  It  intervenes  only  at  stated  intervals,  particularly 
at  the  beginning,  climax  and  end  of  plays. 

COSTUME. 

Though  almost  wholly  banishing  other  extrinsic  aids,  the  No  relies 
enormously  for  its  effects  on  gorgeous  and  elaborate  costume.  Some 
references  to  this  will  be  found  in  Oswald  Sickert's  letters  at  the  end 
of  my  book. 

Masks  are  worn  only  by  the  shite  (principal  actor)  and  his  sub- 
ordinates. The  shite  always  wears  a  mask  if  playing  the  part  of  a 
woman  or  very  old  man.  Young  men,  particularly  warriors,  are 
usually  unmasked.  In  child-parts  (played  by  boy-actors)  masks  are 
not  worn.  The  reproduction  of  a  female  mask  will  be  found  on 
Plate  I.  The  masks  are  of  wood.  Many  of  those  still  in  use  are  of 
great  antiquity  and  rank  as  important  specimens  of  Japanese  sculp- 
ture. 

PROPERTIES. 

The  properties  of  the  No  stage  are  of  a  highly  conventionalized 
kind.     An  open  frame-work  represents  a  boat;  another  differing  little 
il    denotes    a   chariot.     Palace,   house,   cottage,    hovel    are   all 
represented  by  four  posts  covered  with  a  roof.     The  fan  which  the 
usually  carries  often  does  duty  as  a  knife,  brush  or  the  like. 
Weapons  are  more  realistically  represented.     The  short-sword,  belt- 
sword,  pike,  spear  and  Chinese  broad-sword  are  carried;   also  bows 
and  arrows. 

DANCING  AND  ACTING. 

Every  No  play  (with,  I  think,  the  sole  exception  of  Hachi  no  Ki, 
lated  on  p.  134)   includes  a  niai  or  dance,  consisting  usually  of 


20  INTRODUCTION 

slow  steps  and  solemn  gestures,  often  bearing  little  resemblance  to 
what  is  in  America  associated  with  the  word  "dance."  When  the 
shite  dances,  his  dance  consists  of  five  "movements"  or  parts;  a  "sub- 
ordinate's" dance  consists  of  three.  Both  in  the  actors'  miming  and 
in  the  dancing  an  important  element  is  the  stamping  of  beats  with 
the  shoeless  foot. 

THE  PLAYS. 

The  plays  are  written  partly  in  prose,  partly  in  verse.  The  prose 
portions  serve  much  the  same  purpose  as  the  iambics  in  a  Greek  play. 
They  are  in  the  Court  or  upper-class  colloquial  of  the  14th  century, 
a  language  not  wholly  dead  to-day,  as  it  is  still  the  language  in 
which  people  write  formal  letters. 

The  chanting  of  these  portions  is  far  removed  from  singing;  yet 
they  are  not  "spoken."  The  voice  falls  at  the  end  of  each  sentence 
in  a  monotonous  cadence. 

A  prose  passage  often  gradually  heightens  into  verse.  The  chant- 
which  has  hitherto  resembled  the  intoning  of  a  Roman  Catholic 
priest,  takes  on  more  of  the  character  of  "recitative"  in  opera,  occa- 
sionally attaining  to  actual  song.  The  verse  of  these  portions  is  some- 
times irregular,  but  on  the  whole  tends  to  an  alternation  of  lines  of 
five  and  seven  syllables. 

The  verse  of  the  lyric  portions  is  marked  by  frequent  use  of  pivot- 
words  x  and  puns,  particularly  puns  on  place-names.  The  14th  century 
No-writer,  Seami,  insists  that  pivot-words  should  be  used  sparingly 
and  with  discretion.  Many  No- writers  did  not  follow  this  advice;  but 
the  use  of  pivot-words  is  not  in  itself  a  decoration  more  artificial  than 
rhyme,  and  I  cannot  agree  with  those  European  writers  to  whom  this 
device  appears  puerile  and  degraded.  Each  language  must  use  such 
embellishments  as  suit  its  genius. 

Another  characteristic  of  the  texts  is  the  use  of  earlier  literary 
material.  Many  of  the  plays  were  adapted  from  dance-ballads  already 
existing  and  even  new  plays  made  use  of  such  poems  as  were  asso- 
ciated in  the  minds  of  the  audience  with  the  places1  or  persons  named 
in  the  play.  Often  a  play  is  written  round  a  poem  or  series  of  poems, 
as  will  be  seen  in  the  course  of  this  book. 

1  For  example  in  yuku  kata  shira-yuki  ni  .  .  .  shira  does  duty  twice,  meaning 
both  "unknown**  and  "white."  The  meaning  is  "whither-unknown  amid  the  white 


INTRODUCTION  21 

This  use  of  existing  material  exceeds  the  practice  of  Western  drama- 
tists; but  it  must  be  remembered  that  if  we  were  to  read  Webster,  for 
example,  in  editions  annotated  as  minutely  as  the  No-plays,  we  should 
discover  that  he  was  far  more  addicted  to  borrowing  than  we  had  been 
aware.  It  seems  to  me  that  in  the  finest  plays  this  use  of  existing 
material  is  made  with  magnificent  effect  and  fully  justifies  itself. 

The  reference  which  I  have  just  made  to  dance-ballads  brings  us  to 
another  question.  What  did  the  No-plays  grow  out  of? 

ORIGINS. 

No  as  we  have  it  to-day  dates  from  about  the  middle  of  the  14th 
century.     It  was  a  combination  of  many  elements. 
These  were: 

(1)  Sarugaku,  a  masquerade  which  relieved  the  solemnity  of  Shinto 
ceremonies.     What  we  call  No  was  at  first  called  Sarugaku  no  No. 

(2)  Dengaku,  at  first  a  rustic  exhibition  of  acrobatics  and  jugglery; 
later,  a  kind  of  opera  in  which  performers  alternately  danced  and 
recited. 

(3)  Various  sorts  of  recitation,  ballad-singing,  etc. 

(4)  The  Chinese  dances  practised  at  the  Japanese  Court. 

No  owes  its  present  form  to  the  genius  of  two  men.  Kwanami 
Kiyotsugu  (1333-1384  A.  D.)  and  his  son  Seami  Motokiyo  (1363- 
1444  A.D.).1 

Kwanami  was  a  priest  of  the  Kasuga  Temple  near  Nara.  About 
1375  the  Shogun  Yoshimitsu  saw  him  performing  in  a  Sarugaku  no 
it  the  New  Temple  (one  of  the  three  great  temples  of  Kumano) 
and  immediately  took  him  under  his  protection. 

This  Yoshimitsu  had  become  ruler  of  Japan  in  1367  at  the  age 
of  ten.  His  family  had  seized  the  Shogunate  in  1338  and  wielded 
absolute  power  at  Kyoto,  while  two  rival  Mikados,  one  in  the  north 
and  one  in  the  south,  held  impotent  and  dwindling  courts. 

The  young  Shogun  distinguished  himself  by  patronage  of  art 
and  letters;  and  by  his  devotion  to  the  religion  of  the  Zen  Sect.2 
It  is  probable  that  when  he  first  saw  Kwanami  he  also  became  ac- 
quainted with  the  son  Seami,  then  a  boy  of  twelve. 

A  diary  of  the  period  has  the  following  entry  for  the  7th  day 
of  the  6th  month,  1368: 

1  These  dates  have  only  recently  been  established. 
•Seep.  32. 


22  INTRODUCTION 

For  some  while  Yoshimitsu  has  been  making  a  favourite  of  a  Sarugaku-boy  from 
Yamato,  sharing  the  same  meat  and  eating  from  the  same  vessels.  These 
Sarugaku  people  are  mere  mendicants,  but  he  treats  them  as  if  they  were  Privy 
Counsellors. 

From  this  friendship  sprang  the  art  of  No  as  it  exists  to-day. 
Of  Seami  we  know  far  more  than  of  his  father  Kwanami.  For  Seami 
left  behind  him  a  considerable  number  of  treatises  and  autobiograph- 
ical fragments.1  These  were  not  published  till  1908  and  have  not 
yet  been  properly  edited.  They  establish,  among  other  things,  the 
fact  that  Seami  wrote  both  words  and  music  for  most  of  the  plays 
in  which  he  performed.  It  had  before  been  supposed  that  the  texts 
were  supplied  by  the  Zen  -  priests.  For  other  information  brought  to 
light  by  the  discovery  of  Seami's  Works  see  Appendix  II. 

YUGEN 

It  is  obvious  that  Seami  was  deeply  imbued  with  the  teachings  of 
Zen,  in  which  cult  his  patron  Yoshimitsu  may  have  been  his  master. 
The  difficult  term  yugen  which  occurs  constantly  in  the  Works  is 
derived  from  Zen  literature.  It  means  "what  lies  beneath  the  sur- 
face"; the  subtle  as  opposed  to  the  obvious;  the  hint,  as  opposed 
to  the  statement.  It  is  applied  to  the  natural  grace  of  a  boy's  move- 
ments, to  the  restraint  of  a  nobleman's  speech  and  bearing.  "When 
notes  fall  sweetly  and  flutter  delicately  to  the  ear,"  that  is  the  yugen 
of  music.  The  symbol  of  yugen  is  "a  white  bird  with  a  flower  in  its 
beak."  'To  watch  the  sun  sink  behind  a  flower-clad  hill,  to  wander 
on  and  on  in  a  huge  forest  with  no  thought  of  return,  to  stand  upon 
the  shore  and  gaze  after  a  boat  that  goes  hid  by  far-off  islands,  to 
ponder  on  the  journey  of  wild-geese  seen  and  lost  among  the  clouds" 
— such  are  the  gates  to  yugen. 

I   will  give  a  few  specimens   of  Seami's  advice  to  his   pupils: 

PATRONS 

The  actor  should  not  stare  straight  into  the  faces  of  the  audience, 
but  look  between  them.  When  he  looks  in  the  direction  of  the 
Daimyos  he  must  not  let  his  eyes  meet  theirs,  but  must  slightly  avert 
his  gaze. 

1  Not  to  be  confused  with  the  forged  book  printed  in  1600  and  used  by 
Fenolloaa. 

aSec  note  on  Buddhism,  p.  268. 


INTRODUCTION  23 

At  Palace-performances  or  when  acting  at  a  banquet,  he  must  not 
let  his  eyes  meet  those  of  the  Shogun  or  stare  straight  into  the  Hon- 
ourable Face.  When  playing  in  a  large  enclosure  he  must  take  care 
to  keep  as  close  as  possible  to  the  side  where  the  Nobles  are  sitting; 
if  in  a  small  enclosure,  as  far  off  as  possible.  But  particularly  in 
Palace-performances  and  the  like  he  must  take  the  greatest  pains  to 
keep  as  far  away  as  he  possibly  can  from  the  August  Presence. 

Again,  when  the  recitations  are  given  at  the  Palace  it  is  equally 
essential  to  begin  at  the  right  moment.  It  is  bad  to  begin  too  soon 
and  fatal  to  delay  too  long. 

It  sometimes  happens  that  the  *noble  gentlemen"  do  not  arrive 
at  the  theatre  until  the  play  has  already  reached  its  Development 
and  Climax.  In  such  cases  the  play  is  at  its  climax,  but  the  noble 
fientlemen's  hearts  are  ripe  only  for  Introduction.  If  they,  ready 
only  for  Introduction,  are  forced  to  witness  a  Climax,  they  are  not 
likely  to  get  pleasure  from  it.  Finally  even  the  spectators  who  were 
there  before,  awed  by  the  entry  of  the  "exalted  ones,"  become  so 
quiet  that  you  would  not  know  they  were  there,  so  that  the  whole 
audience  ends  by  returning  to  the  Introductory  mood.  At  such  a 
moment  the  No  cannot  possibly  be  a  success.  In  such  circumstances 
it  is  best  to  take  Development-No  and  give  it  a  slightly  "introductory" 
turn.  Then,  if  it  is  played  gently,  it  may  win  the  August  Attention. 
It  also  happens  that  one  is  suddenly  sent  for  to  perform  at  a 
unal  feast  or  the  like.  The  audience  is  already  in  a  "climax- 
mood";  but  "introductory"  No  must  be  played.  This  is  a  great 
difficulty.  In  such  circumstances  the  best  plan  is  to  tinge  the  intro- 
duction with  a  nuance  of  "development."  But  this  must  be  done 
without  "stickiness,"  with  the  lightest  possible  touch,  and  the  transi- 
tion to  the  real  Development  and  Climax  must  be  made  as  quickly 
as  possible. 

In  vjld  times  there  were  masters  who  perfected  themselves  in  Nd 
without  study.  But  nowadays  the  nobles  and  gentlemen  have  become 
so  critical  that  they  will  only  look  with  approbation  on  what  is  good 
and  will  not  give  attention  to  anything  bad. 

Their  honourable  eyes  have  become  so  keen  that  they  notice  the 
least  defect,  so  that  even  a  masterpiece  that  is  as  pearls  many  times 
polished  or  flowers  choicely  culled  will  not  win  the  applause  of 
our  gentlemen  to-day. 

At  the  same  time,  good  actors  are  becoming  few  and  the  Art  is 


24  INTRODUCTION 

gradually  sinking  towards  its  decline.  For  this  reason,  if  very  stren- 
uous study  is  not  made,  it  is  bound  to  disappear  altogether. 

When  summoned  to  play  before  the  noble  gentlemen,  we  are  ex- 
pected to  give  the  regular  "words  of  good-wish"  and  to  divide  our 
performance  into  the  three  parts,  Introduction,  Development  and 
Climax,  so  that  the  pre-arranged  order  cannot  be  varied.  .  .  .  But 
on  less  formal  occasions,  when,  for  example,  one  is  playing  not  at 
a  Shogunal  banquet  but  on  a  common,  everyday  (yo  no  tsune)  stage, 
it  is  obviously  unnecessary  to  limit  oneself  to  the  set  forms  of  "happy 
wish." 

One's  style  should  be  easy  and  full  of  graceful  yugen,  and  the 
piece1  selected  should  be  suitable  to  the  audience.  A  ballad  (ko- 
utai)  or  dance-song  (kuse-mai)  of  the  day  will  be  best.  One  should 
have  in  one's  repertory  a  stock  of  such  pieces  and  be  ready  to  vary 
them  according  to  the  character  of  one's  audience. 

In  the  words  and  gestures  (of  a  farce,  kyogen)  there  should  be 
nothing  low.  The  jokes  and  repartee  should  be  such  as  suit  the 
august  ears  of  the  nobles  and  gentry.  On  no  account  must  vulgar 
words  or  gestures  be  introduced,  however  funny  they  may  be.  This 
advice  must  be  carefully  observed. 

Introduction,  Development  and  Climax  must  also  be  strictly  adhered 
to  when  dancing  at  the  Palace.  If  the  chanting  proceeds  from  an 
"introductory-mood,"  the  dancing  must  belong  to  the  same  mood. 
.  .  .  When  one  is  suddenly  summoned  to  perform  at  a  riotous  ban- 
quet, one  must  take  into  consideration  the  state  of  the  noble  gentle- 
men's spirits. 

IMITATION  (Monomane). 

In  imitation  there  should  be  a  tinge  of  the  "unlike."  For  if  imita- 
tion be  pressed  too  far  it  impinges  on  reality  and  ceases  to  give  an 
impression  of  likeness.  If  one  aims  only  at  the  beautiful,  the  "flower" 
is  sure  to  appear.  For  example,  in  acting  the  part  of  an  old  man, 
the  master  actor  tries  to  reproduce  in  his  dance  only  the  refinement 
and  venerability  of  an  old  gentleman.2  If  the  actor  is  old  himself, 

1  The  piece  to  be  used  as  an  introduction.    Modern  performances  are  not  con- 
fined to  full  No.     Sometimes  actors  in  plain  dress  recite  without  the  aid  of  in- 
strumental music,  sitting  in   a  row.     Or  one   actor  may  recite   the  piece,  with 
music    (this  is  called  Hayashi) ;   or  the  piece  may  mimed  without  music    (this 
is  called  Shimai) . 

2  An  old  shiroto,  i.  e.  person  not  engaged  in  trade. 


INTRODUCTION  25 

he  need  not  think  about  producing  an  impression   of  old  age.  .  .  . 

The  appearance  of  old  age  will  often  be  best  given  by  making 
all  movements  a  little  late,  so  that  they  come  just  after  the  musical 
beat.  If  the  actor  bears  this  in  mind,  he  may  be  as  lively  and 
energetic  as  he  pleases.  For  in  old  age  the  limbs  are  heavy  and  the 
ears  slow;  there  is  the  will  to  move  but  not  the  corresponding 
capacity. 

It  is  in  such  methods  as  this  that  true  imitation  lies.  .  .  .  Youth- 
ful movements  made  by  an  old  person  are,  indeed,  delightful;  they 
are  like  flowers  blossoming  on  an  old  tree. 

If,  because  the  actor  has  noticed  that  old  men  walk  with  bent 
knees  and  back  and  have  shrunken  frames,  he  simply  imitates  these 
characteristics,  he  may  achieve  an  appearance  of  decrepitude,  but  it 
will  be  at  the  expense  of  the  "flower."  And  if  the  "flower"  be 
larking  there  will  be  no  beauty  in  his  impersonation. 

Women  should  be  impersonated  by  a  young  actor.  ...  It  is  very 
difficult  to  play  the  part  of  a  Princess  or  lady-in-waiting,  for  little 
opportunity  presents  itself  of  studying  their  august  behaviour  and 
appearance.  Great  pains  must  be  taken  to  see  that  robes  and  cloaks 
are  worn  in  the  correct  way.  These  things  do  not  depend  on  the 
actor's  fancy  but  must  be  carefully  ascertained. 

The  appearance  of  ordinary  ladies  such  as  one  is  used  to  see 
about  one  is  easy  to  imitate.  ...  In  acting  the  part  of  a  dancing- 
irirl.  mad-woman  or  the  like,  whether  he  carry  the  fan  or  some  fancy 
tiling  (a  flowering  branch,  for  instance)  the  actor  must  carry  it 
loosely;  his  skirts  must  trail  low  so  as  to  hide  his  feet;  his  knees 
and  back  must  not  be  bent,  his  body  must  be  poised  gracefully. 
•U  the  way  he  holds  himself — if  he  bends  back,  it  looks  bad 
ulu-n  he  faces  the  audience;  if  he  stoops,  it  looks  bad  from  behind. 
But  he  will  not  look  like  a  woman  if  he  holds  his  head  too  stiffly. 
His  sleeves  should  be  as  long  as  possible,  so  that  he  never  shows 
his  fingers. 

APPARITIONS 

Here  the  outward  form  is  that  of  a  ghost;  but  within  is  the  heart 
of  a  man. 

Such  plays  are  generally  in  two  parts.  The  beginning,  in  two  or 
sections,  should  be  as  short  as  possible.  In  the  second  half  the 
shite  (who  has  hitherto  appeared  to  be  a  man)  becomes  definitely  the 
ghost  of  a  dead  person. 


26  INTRODUCTION 

Since  no  one  has  ever  seen  a  real  ghost l  from  the  Nether  Regions, 
the  actor  may  use  his  fancy,  aiming  only  at  the  beautiful.  To  rep- 
resent real  life  is  far  more  difficult. 

If  ghosts  are  terrifying,  they  cease  to  be  beautiful.  For  the  ter- 
rifying and  the  beautiful  are  as  far  apart  as  black  and  white. 

CHILD  PLAYS 

In  plays  where  a  lost  child  is  found  by  its  parents,  the  writer 
should  not  introduce  a  scene  where  they  clutch  and  cling  to  one 
another,  sobbing  and  weeping.  .  .  . 

Plays  in  which  child-characters  occur,  even  if  well  done,  are  always 
apt  to  make  the  audience  exclaim  in  disgust,  "Don't  harrow  our 
feelings  in  this  way!" 

RESTRAINT 

In  representing  anger  the  actor  should  yet  retain  some  gentleness 
in  his  mood,  else  he  will  portray  not  anger  but  violence. 

In  representing  the  mysterious  (yugen)  he  must  not  forget  the 
principle  of  energy. 

When  the  body  is  in  violent  action,  the  hands  and  feet  must  move 
as  though  by  stealth.  When  the  feet  are  in  lively  motion,  the  body 
must  be  held  in  quietness.  Such  things  cannot  be  explained  in  writ- 
ing but  must  be  shown  to  the  actor  by  actual  demonstration. 

It  is  above  all  in  "architecture,"  in  the  relation  of  parts  to  the 
whole,  that  these  poems  are  supreme.2  The  early  writers  created  a 
"form"  or  general  pattern  which  the  weakest  writing  cannot  wholly 
rob  of  its  beauty.  The  plays  are  like  those  carved  lamp-bearing 
angels  in  the  churches  at  Seville;  a  type  of  such  beauty  was  created 
by  a  sculptor  of  the  sixteenth  century  that  even  the  most  degraded 
modern  descendant  of  these  masterpieces  retains  a  certain  distinction 
of  form. 

First  comes  the  jidai  or  opening-couplet,  enigmatic,  abrupt.  Then 
in  contrast  to  this  vague  shadow  come  the  hard  outlines  of  the  waki's 
exposition,  the  formal  naming  of  himself,  his  origin  and  destination. 

1  This  shows  that,  in  Seami's  hands,  the  device  of  making  an  apparition  the 
hero  of  the  play  was  simply  a  dramatic  convention. 

2  This,  too,  is  the  only  aspect  of  them  that  I  can  here  discuss ;  no  other  kind 
of  criticism  being  possible  without  quotation  of   the  actual  words  used  by  the 
poet 


INTRODUCTION  27 

Then,  shadowy  again,  the  "song  of  travel,"   in   which  picture  after 
j  i  ir  tu  re  dissolves  almost  before  it  is  seen. 

But  all  this  has  been  mere  introduction — the  imagination  has  been 
quickened,  the  attention  grasped  in  preparation  for  one  thing  only — 
the  hero's  entry.  In  the  "first  chant,"  in  the  dialogue  which  follows, 
in  the  successive  dances  and  climax,  this  absolute  mastery  of  con- 
st  ruction  is  what  has  most  struck  me  in  reading  the  plays. 

Again,   No  does   not  make  a  frontal   attack  on   the   emotions.     It 

creeps  at  the  subject  warily.     For  the  action,  in  the  commonest  class 

of  play,  does  not  take  place  before  our  eyes,  but  is  lived  through 

i  in  mimic  and  recital  by  the  ghost  of  one  of  the  participants  in 

i  hus  we  get  no  possibility  of  crude   realities;   a  vision  of  life 

indeed,  but  painted  with  the  colours  of  memory,  longing  or  regret. 

In  a  paper  read  before  the  Japan  Society  in  1919  I  tried  to  illus- 
trate this  point  by  showing,  perhaps  in  too  fragmentary  and  dis- 
jointed a  manner,  how  the  theme  of  Webster's  "Duchess  of  Malfi" 
\\ntild  have  been  treated  by  a  No  writer.  I  said  then  (and  the 
Society  kindly  allows  me  to  repeat  those  remarks)  : 

The  plot  of  the  play  is  thus  summarized  by  Rupert  Brooke  in  his 
"John  Webster  and  the  Elizabethan  Drama":     "The  Duchess  of  Malfi 
is   a   young   widow   forbidden   by   her   brothers,    Ferdinand   and   the 
Cardinal,  to  marry  again.     They  put  a  creature  of  theirs,  Bosola,  into 
her  service  as  a  spy.     The  Duchess  loves  and  marries  Antonio,  her 
steward,   and   has   three   children.     Bosola   ultimately    discovers    and 
reports  this.     Antonio  and  the  Duchess  have  to  fly.     The  Duchess  is 
captured,  imprisoned  and  mentally  tortured  and  put  to  death.     Fer- 
dinand goes  mad.     In  the  last  Act  he,  the  Cardinal,  Antonio   and 
la  are  all  killed  with  various  confusions  and  in  various  horror." 
Just   as   Webster  took  his   themes   from   previous   works    (in   this 
case  from   Painter's   "Palace  of   Pleasure"),  so   the  No   plays  took 
I  from  the  Romances  or  "Monogatari."     Let  us  reconstruct  the 
hess"  as  a  No  play,  using  Webster's  text  as  our  "Monogatari." 
Great  simplification  is  necessary,  for  the  No  play  corresponds  in 
length  to  one  act  of  our  five-act  plays,  and  has  no  space  for  divaga- 
te  comic    is    altogether    excluded,    being    reserved    for    the 
kydgen  or  farces  which  are  played  as  interludes  between  the  No. 

persons  need  not  be  more  than  two — the  Pilgrim,   who  will 
a*t  the  part  of  waki,  and  the  Duchess,  who  will  be  shite  or  Protago- 
Ihe  chorus  takes  no  pan  in   the  action,   but   speaks  for  the 
uliile  she  is  miming  the  more  engrossing  parts  of  her  role. 


28  INTRODUCTION 

The  Pilgrim  comes  on  to  the  stage  and  first  pronounces  in  his 
Jidai  or  preliminary  couplet,  some  Buddhist  aphorism  appropriate 
to  the  subject  of  the  play.  He  then  names  himself  to  the  audience 
thus  (in  prose) : 

"I  am  a  pilgrim  from  Rome.  I  have  visited  all  the  other  shrines 
of  Italy,  but  have  never  been  to  Loretto.  I  will  journey  once  to  the 
shrine  of  Loretto." 

Then  follows  (in  verse)  the  "Song  of  Travel"  in  which  the  Pilgrim 
describes  the  scenes  through  which  he  passes  on  his  way  to  the  shrine. 
While  he  is  kneeling  at  the  shrine,  Shite  (the  Protagonist)  comes  on 
to  the  stage.  She  is  a  young  woman  dressed,  "contrary  to  the  Italian 
fashion,"  in  a  loose-bodied  gown.  She  carries  in  her  hand  an  unripe 
apricot.  She  calls  to  the  Pilgrim  and  engages  him  in  conversation. 
He  asks  her  if  it  were  not  at  this  shrine  that  the  Duchess  of  Malfi 
took  refuge.  The  young  woman  answers  with  a  kind  of  eager  ex- 
altation, her  words  gradually  rising  from  prose  to  poetry.  She  tells 
the  story  of  the  Duchess's  flight,  adding  certain  intimate  touches  which 
force  the  priest  to  ask  abruptly,  "Who  is  it  that  is  speaking  to  me?" 

And  the  girl  shuddering  (for  it  is  hateful  to  a  ghost  to  name  itself) 
answers:  "Hazukashi  yal  I  am  the  soul  of  the  Duke  Ferdinand's  sis- 
ter, she  that  was  once  called  Duchess  of  Malfi.  Love  still  ties  my  soul 
to  the  earth.  Toburai  tabi-tamaye!  Pray  for  me,  oh,  pray  for  my  re- 
lease!" 

Here  closes  the  first  part  of  the  play.  In  the  second  the  young 
ghost,  her  memory  quickened  by  the  Pilgrim's  prayers  (and  this  is 
part  of  the  medicine  of  salvation),  endures  again  the  memory  of 
her  final  hours.  She  mimes  the  action  of  kissing  the  hand  (vide  Act 
IV,  Scene  1),  finds  it  very  cold: 

I  fear  you  are  not  well  after  your  travel. 

Oh!  horrible! 

What  witchcraft  does  he  practise,   that   he  hath  left 

A  dead  man's  hand  here? 

And  each  successive  scene  of  the  torture  is  so  vividly  mimed  that 
though  it  exists  only  in  the  Protagonist's  brain,  it  is  as  real  to  the 
audience  as  if  the  figure  of  dead  Antonio  lay  propped  upon  the  stage, 
or  as  if  the  madmen  were  actually  leaping  and  screaming  before  them. 
Finally  she  acts  the  scene  of  her  own  execution: 

Heaven-gates  are  not  so  highly  arched 
As  princes'  palaces;  they  that  enter  there 


INTRODUCTION  29 

Must  go  upon  their  knees.     (She  kneels.) 
Come,  violent  death, 

Serve  for  mandragora  to  make  me  sleep! 
Co  tell  my  brothers,  when  I  am  laid  out, 
They  then  may  feed  in  quiet 

(She  sinks  her  head  and  folds  her  hands.) 

The  chorus,  taking  up  the  word  "quiet,"  chant  a  phrase  from  the 
Hokkekyo:  Sangai  Mu-an,  "In  the  Three  Worlds  there  is  no  quietness 
or  rest." 

But  the  Pilgrim's  prayers  have  been  answered.  Her  soul  has  broken 
its  bonds:  is  free  to  depart.  The  ghost  recedes,  grows  dimmer  and 
dimmer,  till  at  last 

use-ni-keri 
use-ni-keri 
it  vanishes  from  sight. 


NOTE    ON   BUDDHISM 

The  Buddhism  of  the  No  plays  is  of  the  kind  called  the  "Greater 
Vehicle,"  which  prevails  in  China,  Japan  and  Tibet.  Primitive 
Buddhism  (the  "Lesser  Vehicle"),  which  survives  in  Ceylon  and 
Burma,  centres  round  the  person  of  Shakyamuni,  the  historical  Buddha, 
and  uses  Pali  as  its  sacred  language.  The  "Greater  Vehicle,"  which 
came  into  being  about  the  same  time  as  Christianity  and  sprang  from 
the  same  religious  impulses,  to  a  large  extent  replaces  Shakyamuni 
by  a  timeless,  ideal  Buddha  named  Amida,  "Lord  of  Boundless  Light," 
perhaps  originally  a  sun-god,  like  Ormuzd  of  the  Zoroastrians.  Prim- 
itive Buddhism  had  taught  that  the  souls  of  the  faithful  are  absorbed 
into  Nirvana,  in  other  words  into  Buddha.  The  "Greater  Vehicle" 
promised  to  its  adherents  an  after-life  in  Amida's  Western  Paradise. 
It  produced  scriptures  in  the  Sanskrit  language,  in  which  Shakyamuni 
himself  describes  this  Western  Land  and  recommends  the  worship  of 
Amida;  it  inculcated  too  the  worship  of  the  Bodhisattvas,  half-Buddhas, 
intermediaries  between  Buddha  and  man.  These  Bodhisattvas  are  be- 
ings who,  though  fit  to  receive  Buddhahood,  have  of  their  own  free  will 
renounced  it,  that  they  may  better  alleviate  the  miseries  of  mankind. 

Chief  among  them  is  Kwannon,  called  in  India  Avalokiteshvara, 
v,  MM  appears  in  the  world  both  in  male  and  female  form,  but  it  is 
chiefly  thought  of  as  a  woman  in  China  and  Japan;  Goddess  of  Mercy, 

\\iiom  men  pray  in  war,  storm,  sickness  or  travail. 

The  doctrine  of  Karma  and  of  the  transmigration  of  souls  was 
mon  both  to  the  earlier  and  later  forms  of  Buddhism.  Man  is 
to  an  endless  chain  of  re-incarnations,  each  one  of  which  is,  as  it 
were,  the  fruit  of  seed  sown  in  that  which  precedes. 

The  only  escape  from  this  "Wheel  of  Life  and  Death"  lies  in  satori, 
lit.  njiM-iit,"  the  realization  that  material  phenomena  are  thoughts, 
not  facts. 

Each  of  the  four  chief  sects  which  existed  in  medieval  Japan  had 
its  own  method  of  achieving  this  Enlightenment. 

(1)  The  Amidists  sought  to  gain  sctiori  by  the  study  of  the  Hokke 
called  in  Sanskrit  Saddharma  Pundarika  Sutra  or  "Scripture  of 

SI 


32  NOTE   ON   BUDDHISM 

the  Lotus  of  the  True  Law,"  or  even  by  the  mere  repetition  of  its 
complete  title  Myoho  Renge  Hokke  Kyo."  Others  of  them  main- 
tained that  the  repetition  of  the  formula  "Praise  to  Amida  Buddha" 
(Mantu  Amida  Butsu)  was  in  itself  a  sufficient  means  of  salvation. 

(2)  Once  when  Shakyamuni  was  preaching  before  a  great  multitude, 
he  picked  up  a  flower  and  twisted  it  in  his  fingers.  The  rest  of  his 
hearers  saw  no  significance  in  the  act  and  made  no  response;  but  the 
disciple  Kashyapa  smiled. 

In  this  brief  moment  a  perception  of  transcendental  truth  had 
flashed  from  Buddha's  mind  to  the  mind  of  his  disciple.  Thus 
Kashyapa  became  the  patriarch  of  the  Zen  Buddhists,  who  believe  that 
Truth  cannot  be  communicated  by  speech  or  writing,  but  that  it  lies 
hidden  in  the  heart  of  each  one  of  us  and  can  be  discovered  by  "Zen" 
or  contemplative  introspection. 

At  first  sight  there  would  not  appear  to  be  any  possibility  of  recon- 
ciling the  religion  of  the  Zen  Buddhists  with  that  of  the  Amidists.  Yet 
many  Zen  masters  strove  to  combine  the  two  faiths,  teaching  that 
Amida  and  his  Western  Paradise  exist,  not  in  time  or  space,  but 
mystically  enshrined  in  men's  hearts. 

Zen  denied  the  existence  of  Good  and  Evil,  and  was  sometimes 
regarded  as  a  dangerous  sophistry  by  pious  Buddhists  of  other  sects, 
as,  for  example,  in  the  story  of  Shunkwan  (see  p.  227)  and  in  The 
Hdka  Priests  (see  p.  165),  where  the  murderer's  interest  in  Zen  doc- 
trines is,  I  think,  definitely  regarded  as  a  discreditable  weakness  and  is 
represented  as  the  cause  of  his  undoing. 

The  only  other  play,  among  those  I  have  here  translated,  which 
deals  much  with  Zen  tenets,  is  Sotoba  Komachi.  Here  the  priests 
represent  the  Shingon  Shu  or  Mystic  Sect,  while  Komachi,  as  becomes 
a  poetess,  defends  the  doctrines  of  Zen.  For  Zen  was  the  religion  of 
artists;  it  had  inspired  the  painters  and  poets  of  the  Sung  dynasty  in 
China;  it  was  the  religion  of  the  great  art-patrons  who  ruled  Japan 
in  the  fifteenth  century.1 

It  was  in  the  language  of  Zen  that  poetry  and  painting  were  dis- 
cussed; and  it  was  in  a  style  tinged  with  Zen  that  Seami  wrote  of  his 
own  art.  But  the  religion  of  the  No  plays  is  predominantly  Amidist; 
it  is  the  common,  average  Buddhism  of  medieval  Japan. 

(3)  I  have  said  that  the  priests  in  Sotoba  Komachi  represent  the 
Mystic  Sect.  The  followers  of  this  sect  sought  salvation  by  means  of 
charms  and  spells,  corruptions  of  Sanskrit  formulae.  Their  principal 

1  See  further  my  Zen  Buddhism  &  its  relation  to  Art.  Luzac,  1922. 


NOTE   ON   BUDDHISM  33 

Buddha  was  Dainichi,  'The  Great  Sun."  To  this  sect  belonged  the 
Yamabushi,  mountain  ascetics  referred  to  in  Tanikd  and  other  plays. 

(4)  Mention  must  be  made  of  the  fusion  between  Buddhism  and 
Shinto.  The  Tendai  Sect  which  had  its  headquarters  on  Mount  Hiyei 
preached  an  eclectic  doctrine  which  aimed  at  becoming  the  universal 
religion  of  Japan.  It  combined  the  cults  of  native  gods  with  a  Bud- 
dhism tolerant  in  dogma,  but  magnificent  in  outward  pomp,  with  a 
leaning  towards  the  magical  practices  of  Shingon. 

The  Little  Saint  of  Yokawa  in  the  play  Aoi  no  Uye  is  an  example 
of  the  Tendai  ascetic,  with  his  use  of  magical  incantations. 

Hatsuyuki  appeared  in  "Poetry,"  Chicago,  and  is  here  reprinted 
with  the  editor's  kind  permission. 


ATSUMORI,    IKUTA,    AND    TSUNEMASA. 

IN  the  eleventh  century  two  powerful  clans,  the  Taira  and  the  Minamoto, 
contended  for  mastery.  In  1181  Kiyomori  the  chief  of  the  Tairas 
died,  and  from  that  time  their  fortunes  declined.  In  1183  they  were 
forced  to  flee  from  Kyoto,  carrying  with  them  the  infant  Emperor. 
After  many  hardships  and  wanderings  they  camped  on  the  shores  of 
Suma,  where  they  were  protected  by  their  fleet. 

Early  in  1184  the  Minamotos  attacked  and  utterly  routed  them  at  the 
Battle  of  Ichi-no-Tani,  near  the  woods  of  Ikuta.  At  this  battle  fell 
Atsumori,  the  nephew  of  Kiyomori,  and  his  brother  Tsunemasa. 

When  Kumagai,  who  had  slain  Atsumori,  bent  over  him  to  examine 
the  body,  he  found  lying  beside  him  a  bamboo-flute  wrapped  in  brocade. 
He  took  the  flute  and  gave  it  to  his  son. 

The  bay  of  Suma  is  associated  in  the  mind  of  a  Japanese  reader  not 
only  with  this  battle  but  also  with  the  stories  of  Prince  Genji  and 
Prince  Yukihira, 
(See  p.  224.) 


ATSUMORI 
By  SEAMI 

PERSONS 

THE  PRIEST  RENSEI  (formerly  the  warrior  Kumagai). 

A  YOUNG  REAPER,  who  turns  out  to  be  the  ghost  of  Atsumori. 

HIS  COMPANION. 

CHORUS. 

PRIEST. 

Life  is  a  lying  dream,  he  only  wakes 

Who  casts  the  World  aside. 

I  am  Kumagai  no  Naozane,  a  man  of  the  country  of  Musashi.  I 
have  left  my  home  and  call  myself  the  priest  Rensei;  this  I  have 
done  because  of  my  grief  at  the  death  of  Atsumori,  who  fell  in  battle 
by  my  hand.  Hence  it  comes  that  I  am  dressed  in  priestly  guise- 

And  now  I  am  going  down  to  Ichi-no-Tani  to  pray  for  the  salva- 
tion of  Atsumori's  soul. 

(He  walks  slowly  across  the  stage,  singing  a  song  descriptive 
of  his  journey.) 

I  have  come  so  fast  that  here  I  am  already  at  Ichi-no-Tani,  in  the 
country  of  Tsu. 

Truly  the  past  returns  to  my  mind  as  though  it  were  a  thing  of 
to-day. 

But  listen!  I  hear  the  sound  of  a  flute  coming  from  a  knoll  of 
rising  ground.  I  will  wait  here  till  the  flute-player  passes,  and 
ask  him  to  tell  me  the  story  of  this  place. 

REAPERS  (together). 

To  the  music  of  the  reaper's  flute 

No  song  is  sung 

But  the  sighing  of  wind  in  the  fields. 

YOUNG  REAPER. 
They  that  were  reaping, 
Reaping  on  that  hill, 

M 


ATSUMORI  37 


Walk  now  through  the  fields 
Homeward,  for  it  is  dusk. 

REAPERS  (together). 

Short  is  the  way  that  leads  l 

From  the  sea  of  Suma  back  to  my  home. 

This  little  journey,  up  to  the  hill 

And  down  to  the  shore  again,  and  up  to  the  hill, — 

This  is  my  life,  and  the  sum  of  hateful  tasks. 

If  one  should  ask  me 

I  too2  would  answer 

That  on  the  shores  of  Suma 

I  live  in  sadness. 

Yet  if  any  guessed  my  name, 

Then  might  I  too  have  friends. 

But  now  from  my  deep  misery 

Even  those  that  were  dearest 

Are  grown  estranged.     Here  must  I  dwell  abandoned 

To  one  thought's  anguish: 

That  I  must  dwell  here. 

PRIEST. 

Hey,  you  reapers!     I  have  a  question  to  ask  you. 

YOUNG  REAPER. 

Is  it  to  us  you  are  speaking?     What  do  you  wish  to  know? 

PRIEST. 

Was  it  one  of  you  who  was  playing  on  the  flute  just  now? 

YOUNG  REAPER. 

Yes,  it  was  we  who  were  playing. 

PRIEST. 

It  was  a  pleasant  sound,  and  all  the  pleasanter  because  one  does 
not  look  for  such  music  from  men  of  your  condition. 

YOUNG  REAPER. 

Unlooked  for  from  men  of  our  condition,  you  say! 
Have  you  not  read: — 

Sec  p.  224.  'Like  Yukihira;  see  p.  225. 


38  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

"Do  not  envy  what  is  above  you 

Nor  despise  what  is  below  you"? 

Moreover  the  songs  of  woodmen  and  the  flute-playing  of  herdsmen, 

Flute-playing  even  of  reapers  and  songs  of  wood-fellers 

Through  poets'  verses  are  known  to  all  the  world. 

Wonder  not  to  hear  among  us 

The  sound  of  a  bamboo-flute. 

PRIEST. 

You  are  right.     Indeed  it  is  as  you  have  told  me. 
Songs  of  woodmen  and  flute-playing  of  herdsmen    .    .    . 

REAPER. 

Flute-playing  of  reapers  .  .  . 

PRIEST. 

Songs  of  wood-fellers  •  .  . 

REAPERS. 

Guide  us  on  our  passage  through  this  sad  world. 

PRIEST. 
Song  .  .  . 

REAPER. 

And  dance  .  .  . 

PRIEST. 

And  the  flute  .  .  . 

And  music  of  many  instruments  .  .  . 
REAPER. 

CHORUS. 

These  are  the  pastimes  that  each  chooses  to  his  taste. 

Of  floating  bamboo-wood 

Many  are  the  famous  flutes  that  have  been  made; 

Little-Branch  and  Cicada-Cage, 

And  as  for  the  reaper's  flute, 

Its  name  is  Green-leaf; 

On  the  shore  of  Sumiyoshi 

The  Corean  flute  they  play. 


ATSUMORI  39 


And  here  on  the  shore  of  Suma 
On  Stick  of  the  Salt-kilns 
The  fishers  blow  their  tune. 

PRIEST. 

How  strange  it  is!     The  other  reapers  have  all  gone  home,  but  you 
alone  stay  loitering  here.     How  is  that? 

REAPER. 

How  is  it,  you  ask?     I  am  seeking  for  a  prayer  in  the  voice  of  the 
evening  waves.     Perhaps  you  will  pray  the  Ten  Prayers  for  me? 

PRIEST. 

I  can  easily  pray  the  Ten  Prayers  for  you,  if  you  will  tell  me  who  you 
are. 

REAPER. 

To  tell  you  the  truth — I  am  one  of  the  family  of  Lord  Atsumori. 

PRIEST. 

One  of  AtsumorFs  family?     How  glad  I  am! 

Then  the  priest  joined  his  hands  (he  kneels  down)  and  prayed: — 

NAMU  AMIDABU. 

Praise  to  Amida  Buddha! 
"If  I  attain  to  Buddhahood, 
In  the  whole  world  and  its  ten  spheres 
Of  all  that  dwell  here  none  shall  call  on  my  name 
And  be  rejected  or  cast  aside." 

CHORUS. 

"Oh,  reject  me  not! 
One  cry  suffices  for  salvation, 
Yet  day  and  night 
Your  prayers  will  rise  for  me. 
Happy  am  I,  for  though  you  know  not  my  name, 
Yet  for  my  soul's  deliverance 

At  dawn  and  dusk  henceforward  I  know  that  you  will  pray.'* 
So  he  spoke.     Then  vanished  and  was  seen  no  more. 

(Here  follows  the  Interlude  between  the  two  Acts,  in  which  a 
recitation  concerning  Atsumori  s  death  takes  place.     These 


40  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

interludes  are  subject  to  variation  and  are  not  considered 
part  of  the  literary  text  of  the  play.) 

PRIEST. 

Since  this  is  so,  I  will  perform  all  night  the  rites  of  prayer  for  the 
dead,  and  calling  upon  Amida's  name  will  pray  again  for  the  salva- 
tion of  Atsumori. 

(The  ghost  of  ATSUMORI  appears,  dressed  as  a  young  warrior.) 

ATSUMORI. 

Would  you  know  who  I  am 

That  like  the  watchmen  at  Suma  Pass 

Have  wakened  at  the  cry  of  sea-birds  roaming 

Upon  Awaji  shore? 

Listen,  Rensei.     I  am  Atsumori. 

PRIEST. 

How  strange!  All  this  while  I  have  never  stopped  beating  my  gong 
and  performing  the  rites  of  the  Law.  I  cannot  for  a  moment  have 
dozed,  yet  I  thought  that  Atsumori  was  standing  before  me.  Surely  it 
was  a  dream. 

ATSUMORI. 

Why  need  it  be  a  dream?  It  is  to  clear  the  karma  of  my  waking 
life  that  I  am  come  here  in  visible  form  before  you. 

PRIEST. 

Is  it  not  written  that  one  prayer  will  wipe  away  ten  thousand  sins? 
Ceaselessly  I  have  performed  the  ritual  of  the  Holy  Name  that  clears 
all  sin  away.  After  such  prayers,  what  evil  can  be  left?  Though  you 
should  be  sunk  in  sin  as  deep  .  .  . 

ATSUMORI. 

As  the  sea  by  a  rocky  shore, 
Yet  should  I  be  salved  by  prayer. 

PRIEST. 

And  that  my  prayers  should  save  you  .  .  . 

ATSUMORI. 
This  too  must  spring 


ATSUMORI  41 


From  kindness  of  a  former  life.1 

PRIEST. 

Once  enemies  .  .  . 

ATSUMORI. 
But  now  .  .  . 

PRIEST. 

In  truth  may  we  be  named  .  .  . 

ATSUMORI. 

Friends  in  Buddha's  Law. 

CHORUS. 

There  is  a  saying,  "Put  away  from  you  a  wicked  friend;  summon  to 
your  side  a  virtuous  enemy."  For  you  it  was  said,  and  you  have 
proven  it  true. 

And  now  come  tell  with  us  the  tale  of  your  confession,  while  the 
night  is  still  dark. 

CHORUS. 

He  2  bids  the  flowers  of  Spring 

Mount  the  tree-top  that  men  may  raise  their  eyes 

And  walk  on  upward  paths; 

He  bids  the  moon  in  autumn  waves  be  drowned 

In  token  that  he  visits  laggard  men 

And  leads  them  out  from  valleys  of  despair. 

ATSUMORI. 

Now  the  clan  of  Taira,  building  wall  to  wall, 

Spread  over  the  earth  like  the  leafy  branches  of  a  great  tree: 

CHORUS. 

Yet  their  prosperity  lasted  but  for  a  day; 
It  was  like  the  flower  of  the  convolvulus. 
There  was  none  to  tell  them  8 

1Auumori  must  have  done  Kuraagai  some  kindness  in  a  former  incarnation. 
This  would  account  for  Kumagai's  remorse. 
2  Buddha. 
•  I  have  omitted  a  line  the  force  of  which  depends  upon  a  play  on  words. 


42  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF  JAPAN 

That  glory  flashes  like  sparks  from  flint-stone, 

And  after, — darkness. 

Oh  wretched,  the  life  of  men! 

ATSUMORL 

When  they  were  on  high  they  afflicted  the  humble; 

When  they  were  rich  they  were  reckless  in  pride. 

And  so  for  twenty  years  and  more 

They  ruled  this  land. 

But  truly  a  generation  passes  like  the  space  of  a  dream. 

The  leaves  of  the  autumn  of  Juyei  * 

Were  tossed  by  the  four  winds; 

Scattered,  scattered  (like  leaves  too)  floated  their  ships. 

And  they,  asleep  on  the  heaving  sea,  not  even  in  dreams 

Went  back  to  home. 

Caged  birds  longing  for  the  clouds, — 

Wild  geese  were  they  rather,  whose  ranks  are  broken 

As  they  fly  to  southward  on  their  doubtful  journey. 

So  days  and  months  went  by;  Spring  came  again 

And  for  a  little  while 

Here  dwelt  they  on  the  shore  of  Suma 

At  the  first  valley.2 

From  the  mountain  behind  us  the  winds  blew  down 

Till  the  fields  grew  wintry  again. 

Our  ships  lay  by  the  shore,  where  night  and  day 

The  sea-gulls  cried  and  salt  waves  washed  on  our  sleeves. 

We  slept  with  fishers  in  their  huts 

On  pillows  of  sand. 

We  knew  none  but  the  people  of  Suma. 

And  when  among  the  pine-trees 

The  evening  smoke  was  rising, 

Brushwood,  as  they  call  it,3 

Brushwood  we  gathered 

And  spread  for  carpet. 

Sorrowful  we  lived 

On  the  wild  shore  of  Suma, 

Till  the  clan  Taira  and  all  its  princes 

Were  but  villagers  of  Suma. 

1  The  Taira  evacuated  the  Capital  in  the  second  year  of  Juyei,  1188. 

2Ichino-Tani  means  "First  Valley." 

8  The  name  of  so  humble  a  thing  was  unfamiliar  to  the  Taira  lords. 


ATSUMORI  43 


ATSUMORI. 

But  on  the  night  of  the  sixth  day  of  the  second  month 
My  father  Tsunemori  gathered  us  together. 
"To-morrow,"  he  said,  "we  shall  fight  our  last  fight. 
To-night  is  all  that  is  left  us." 
We  sang  songs  together,  and  danced. 

PRIEST. 

Yes,  I  remember;  we  in  our  siege-camp 
Heard  the  sound  of  music 
Echoing  from  your  tents  that  night; 
There  was  the  music  of  a  flute  .  .  . 

ATSUMORI. 

The  bamboo-flute!     I  wore  it  when  I  died. 

PRIEST. 

We  heard  the  singing  .  .  . 

ATSUMORI. 

Songs  and  ballads  .  .  . 

PRIEST. 

Many  voices 

ATSUMORI. 

Singing  to  one  measure. 

(ATSUMORI  dances.) 
I  irst  comes  the  Royal  Boat. 

CHORUS. 

The  whole  clan  has  put  its  boats  to  sea. 

He1  will  not  be  left  behind; 

He  runs  to  the  shore. 

But  the  Royal  Boat  and  the  soldiers'  boats 

Have  sailed  far  away. 

ATSUMORI. 

What  can  he  do? 

1  Atsumori.     This  passage  is  mimerf  throughout. 


44  THE  NO  PLAYS  OF  JAPAN 

He  spurs  his  horse  into  the  waves. 
He  is  full  of  perplexity. 
And  then 

CHORUS. 

He  looks  behind  him  and  sees 

That  Kumagai  pursues  him; 

He  cannot  escape. 

Then  Atsumori  turns  his  horse 

Knee-deep  in  the  lashing  waves, 

And  draws  his  sword. 

Twice,  three  times  he  strikes;  then,  still  saddled, 

In  close  fight  they  twine;  roll  headlong  together 

Among  the  surf  of  the  shore. 

So  Atsumori  fell  and  was  slain,  but  now  the  Wheel  of  Fate 

Has  turned  and  brought  him  back. 

(ATSUMORI   rises  from  the   ground  and  advances   toward  the 
PRIEST  with  uplifted  sword.) 

"There  is  my  enemy,"  he  cries,  and  would  strike, 

But  the  other  is  grown  gentle 

And  calling  on  Buddha's  name 

Has  obtained  salvation  for  his  foe; 

So  that  they  shall  be  re-born  together 

On  one  lotus-seat. 

"No,  Rensei  is  not  my  enemy. 

Pray  for  me  again,  oh  pray  for  me  again." 


IKUTA 
By  ZEMBO  MOTOYASU  (1453-1532) 

PERSONS 

PRIEST  (a  follower  of  Honen  Shonin).1     ATSVMORFS  CHILD. 
ATSUMORI.  CHORUS. 

PRIEST. 

I  am  one  that  serves  Honen  Shonin  of  Kurodani;  and  as  for  this 
child  here, — once  when  Honen  was  on  a  visit  to  the  Temple  of  Kamo 
<w  a  box  lying  under  a  trailing  fir-tree;  and  when  he  raised  the  lid, 
what  should  he  find  inside  but  a  lovely  man-child  one  year  old!  It 
did  not  seem  to  be  more  than  a  common  foundling,  but  my  master 
in  his  compassion  took  the  infant  home  with  him.  Ever  since  then  he 
has  had  it  in  his  care,  doing  all  that  was  needful  for  it;  and  now  the 
boy  is  over  ten  years  old. 

But  it  is  a  hard  thing  to  have  no  father  or  mother,  so  one  day  after 
his  preaching  the  Shonin  told  the  child's  story.  And  sure  enough  a 
young  woman  stepped  out  from  among  the  hearers  and  said  it  was  her 
child.  And  when  he  took  her  aside  and  questioned  her,  he  found  that 
the  child's  father  was  Taira  no  Atsumori,  who  had  fallen  in  battle  at 
Ichi-no-Tani  years  ago.  When  the  boy  was  told  of  this,  he  longed 
earnestly  to  see  his  father's  face,  were  it  but  in  a  dream,  and  the  Shonin 
bade  him  go  and  pray  at  the  shrine  of  Kamo.  He  was  to  go  every 
clav  for  a  week,  and  this  is  the  last  day. 

That  is  why  I  have  brought  him  out  with  me. 

But  here  we  are  at  the  Kamo  shrine. 

Pray  well,  boy,  pray  well! 

BOY. 

How  fills  my  heart  with  awe 
When  I  behold  the  crimson  palisade 
Of  this  abode  of  gods! 
Oh  may  my  heart  be  clean 

>A  great  preacher;  died  1212  A.D. 
45 


46  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

As  the  River  of  Ablution ;  * 

And  the  God's  kindness  deep 

As  its  unfathomed  waters.     Show  to  me, 

Though  it  were  but  in  dream, 

My  father's  face  and  form. 

Is  not  my  heart  so  ground  away  with  prayer, 

So  smooth  that  it  will  slip 

Unfelt  into  the  favour  of  the  gods? 

But  thou  too,  Censor  of  our  prayers, 

God  of  Tadasu,2  on  the  gods  prevail 

That  what  I  crave  may  be! 

How  strange!     While  I  was  praying  I  fell  half -asleep 
and  had  a  wonderful  dream. 

PRIEST. 

Tell  me  your  wonderful  dream. 

BOY. 

A  strange  voice  spoke  to  me  from  within  the  Treasure  Hall,  saying, 
"If  you  are  wanting,  though  it  were  but  in  a  dream,  to  see  your  father's 
face,  go  down  from  here  to  the  woods  of  Ikuta  in  the  country  of 
Settsu."  That  is  the  marvellous  dream  I  had. 

PRIEST. 

It  is  indeed  a  wonderful  message  that  the  God  has  sent  you.  And 
why  should  I  go  back  at  once  to  Kurodani?  I  had  best  take  you 
straight  to  the  forest  of  Ikuta.  Let  us  be  going. 

PRIEST  (describing  the  journey). 
From  the  shrine  of  Kamo, 
From  under  the  shadow  of  the  hills, 
We  set  out  swiftly; 
Past  Yamazaki  to  the  fog-bound 
Shores  of  Minase; 
And  onward  where  the  gale 

Tears  travellers'  coats  and  winds  about  their  bones. 
"Autumn  has  come  to  woods  where  yesterday 

1  The  name  given  to  streams  which   flow  through   temples.     In  this  case  the 
River  Kamo. 

2  Tadasu  means  to  "straighten,"  "correct."    The  shrine  of  Kamo  lay  in  the  forest 
of  Tadasu. 


IKUTA  47 


We  might  have  plucked  the  green."  ] 

To  Settsu,  to  those  woods  of  Ikuta 

Lo!     We  are  come. 

We  have  gone  so  fast  that  here  we  are  already  at  the  woods  of  Ikuta 
in  the  country  of  Settsu.  I  have  heard  tell  in  the  Capital  of  the  beauty 
of  these  woods  and  the  river  that  runs  through  them.  But  what  I 
see  now  surpasses  all  that  I  have  heard. 

Look!  Those  meadows  must  be  the  Downs  of  Ikuta.  Let  us  go 
nearer  and  admire  them. 

But  while  we  have  been  going  about  looking  at  one  view  and 
another,  the  day  has  dusked. 

I  think  I  see  a  light  over  there.  There  must  be  a  house.  Let  us 
go  to  it  and  ask  for  lodging. 

ATSUMORI  (speaking  from  inside  a  hut). 

Beauty,  perception,  knowledge,  motion,  consciousness, — 

The  Five  Attributes  of  Being, — 

All  are  vain  mockery. 

How  comes  it  that  men  prize 

So  weak  a  thing  as  body? 

For  the  soul  that  guards  it  from  corruption 

Suddenly  to  the  night-moon  flies, 

And  the  poor  naked  ghost  wails  desolate 

In  the  autumn  wind. 
Oh!     I  am  lonely.     I  am  lonely! 

PRIEST. 

How  strange!  Inside  that  grass-hut  I  see  a  young  soldier  dressed 
in  helmet  and  breastplate.  What  can  he  be  doing  there? 

ATSUMORI. 

Oh  foolish  men,  was  it  not  to  meet  me  that  you  came  to  this  place? 
I  am — oh!  I  am  ashamed  to  say  it. — I  am  the  ghost  of  what  once  was 
.  .  .  Atsumori. 

BOY. 

Atsumori?     My  father  .  .  . 

CHORUS. 
And  lightly  he  ran, 

1  Adapted  from  a  poem  in  the  Shin  KokiruhA. 


48  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF  JAPAN 

Plucked  at  the  warrior's  sleeve, 

And  though  his  tears  might  seem  like  the  long  woe 

Of  nightingales  that  weep, 

Yet  were  they  tears  of  meeting-joy, 

Of  happiness  too  great  for  human  heart. 

So  think  we,  yet  oh  that  we  might  change 

This  fragile  dream  of  joy 

Into  the  lasting  love  of  waking  life! 

ATSUMORI. 
Oh  pitiful! 

To  see  this  child,  born  after  me, 
Darling  that  should  be  gay  as  a  flower, 
Walking  in  tattered  coat  of  old  black  cloth. 
Alas! 

Child,  when  your  love  of  me 
Led  you  to  Kamo  shrine,  praying  to  the  God 
That,  though  but  in  a  dream, 
You  might  behold  my  face, 
The  God  of  Kamo,  full  of  pity,  came 
To  Yama,  king  of  Hell. 
King  Yama  listened  and  ordained  for  me 
A  moment's  respite,  but  hereafter,  never. 


CHORUS. 

*The  moon  is  sinking. 

Come  while  the  night  is  dark,"  he  said, 

"I  will  tell  my  tale." 

ATSUMORI. 

When  the  house  of  Taira  was  in  its  pride, 
When  its  glory  was  young, 
Among  the  flowers  we  sported, 
Among  birds,  wind  and  moonlight; 
With  pipes  and  strings,  with  song  and  verse 
We  welcomed  Springs  and  Autumns. 
Till  at  last,  because  our  time  was  come, 
Across  the  bridges  of  Kiso  a  host  unseen 
Swept  and  devoured  us. 
Then  the  whole  clan 


IKUTA  49 


Our  lord  leading 

Fled  from  the  City  of  Flowers. 

By  paths  untrodden 

To  the  Western  Sea  our  journey  brought  us. 

Lakes  and  hills  we  crossed 

Till  we  ourselves  grew  to  he  like  wild  men. 

At  last  by  mountain  ways — 

We  too  tossed  hither  and  thither  like  its  waves — 

To  Suma  came  we, 

To  the  First  Valley  and  the  woods  of  Ikuta. 

And  now  while  all  of  us, 

We  children  of  Taira,  were  light  of  heart 

Because  our  homes  were  near, 

Suddenly  our  foes  in  great  strength  appeared. 

CHORUS. 

Noriyori,  Yoshitsune, — their  hosts  like  clouds, 

Like  mists  of  spring. 

For  a  little  while  we  fought  them, 

But  the  day  of  our  House  was  ended, 

Our  hearts  weakened 

That  had  been  swift  as  arrows  from  the  bowstring. 

We  scattered,  scattered;  till  at  last 

To  the  deep  waters  of  the  Field  of  Life * 

We  came,  but  how  we  found  there  Death,  not  Life, 

What  profit  were  it  to  tell? 

ATSUMORI. 
Who  is  that? 

(Pointing  in  terror  at  a  figure  which  he  sees  off  the  stage.) 

Can  it  be  Yama's  messenger?     He  comes  to  tell  me  that  I  have  out- 
stayed my  time.     The  Lord  of  Hell  is  angry:  he  asks  why  I  am  late? 


CHORUS. 

So  he  spoke.     But  behold 

Suddenly  black  clouds  rise, 

Earth  and  sky  resound  with  the  clash  of  arms; 

i  Ikuta  means  "Field  of  Life." 


50  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF  JAPAN 

War-demons  innumerable 

Flash  fierce  sparks  from  brandished  spears. 

ATSUMORI. 

The  Shura  foes  who  night  and  day 
Come  thick  about  me ! 

CHORUS. 

He  waves  his  sword  and  rushes  among  them, 
Hither  and  thither  he  runs  slashing  furiously; 
Fire  glints  upon  the  steel. 
But  in  a  little  while 
The  dark  clouds  recede; 
The  demons  have  vanished, 
The  moon  shines  unsullied; 
The  sky  is  ready  for  dawn. 

ATSUMORI. 

Oh!   I  am  ashamed.  .  .  . 

And  the  child  to  see  me  so.  ... 

CHORUS. 

"To  see  my  misery! 
I  must  go  back. 
Oh  pray  for  me;  pray  for  me 
When  I  am  gone,"  he  said, 
And  weeping,  weeping, 
Dropped  the  child's  hand. 
He  has  faded ;  he  dwindles 
Like  the  dew  from  rush-leaves 
Of  hazy  meadows. 
His  form  has  vanished. 


TSUNEMASA 
By  SEAMI 

PERSONS 

THE  PRIEST  GYOKEI. 

THE  GHOST  OF  TAIRA  NO  TSUNEMASA. 

CHORUS. 

GYOKEI. 

I  am  Gyokei,  priest  of  the  imperial  temple  Ninnaji.  You  must 
know  that  there  was  a  certain  prince  of  the  House  of  Taira  named 
Tsunemasa,  Lord  of  Tajima,  who  since  his  boyhood  has  enjoyed  beyond 
all  precedent  the  favour  of  our  master  the  Emperor.  But  now  he  has 
been  killed  at  the  Battle  of  the  Western  Seas. 

It  was  to  this  Tsunemasa  in  his  lifetime  that  the  Emperor  had  given 
the  lute  called  Green  Hill.  And  now  my  master  bids  me  take  it  and 
dedicate  it  to  Buddha,  performing  a  liturgy  of  flutes  and  strings  for 
the  salvation  of  Tsunemasa's  soul.  And  that  was  my  purpose  in 
gathering  these  musicians  together. 

Truly  it  is  said  that  strangers  who  shelter  under  the  same  tree  or 
draw  water  from  the  same  pool  will  be  friends  in  another  life.  How 
much  the  more  must  intercourse  of  many  years,  kindness  and  favour 
so  deep  .  .  .  l 

Surely  they  will  be  heard, 

The  prayers  that  all  night  long 

With  due  performance  of  rites 

I  have  reverently  repeated  in  this  Palace 

For  the  salvation  of  Tsunemasa 

And  for  the  awakening  of  his  soul. 

CH 


;ORUS. 
ln<i,  more  than  all,  we  dedicate 
[Tie  lute  Green  Hill  for  this  dead  man; 

relation  between  Tsunemasa  and  the  Emperor  is  meant. 
61 


52  THE  NO  PLAYS   OF  JAPAN 

While  pipe  and  flute  are  joined  to  sounds  of  prayer. 
For  night  and  day  the  Gate  of  Law 
Stands  open  and  the  Universal  Road 
Rejects  no  wayfarer. 

TSUNEMASA  (speaking  off  the  stage). 

"The  wind  blowing  through  withered  trees:  rain  from  a  cloudless 

sky. 

The  moon  shining  on  level  sands:  frost  on  a  summer's  night."  * 
Frost  lying  .  .  .  but  I,  because  I  could  not  lie  at  rest, 
Am  come  back  to  the  World  for  a  while, 
Like  a  shadow  that  steals  over  the  grass. 
I  am  like  dews  that  in  the  morning 
Still  cling  to  the  grasses.     Oh  pitiful  the  longing 
That  has  beset  me! 

GYOKEI. 

How  strange!  Within  the  flame  of  our  candle  that  is  burning  low 
because  the  night  is, far  spent,  suddenly  I  seemed  to  see  a  man's  shadow 
dimly  appearing.  Who  can  be  here? 

TSUNEMASA  (his  shadow  disappearing). 

I  am  the  ghost  of  Tsunemasa.  The  sound  of  your  prayers  has 
brought  me  in  visible  shape  before  you. 

GYOKEI. 

"I  am  the  ghost  of  Tsunemasa,"  he  said,  but  when  I  looked  to  where 
the  voice  had  sounded  nothing  was  there,  neither  substance  nor  shadow ! 

TSUNEMASA. 
Only  a  voice, 

GYOKEI. 

A  dim  voice  whispers  where  the  shadow  of  a  man 
Visibly  lay,  but  when  I  looked 

TSUNEMASA. 
It  had  vanished — 

1  I.e.  the  wind  sounds  like  rain ;  the  sands  appear  to  be  covered  with  frost.  A 
couplet  from  a  poem  by  Po  Chii-i. 


TSUNEMASA  53 


GYOKEI. 

This  flickering  form  .  .  . 

TSUNEMASA. 

Like  haze  over  the  fields. 

CHORUS. 

Only  as  a  tricking  magic, 

A  bodiless  vision, 

Can  he  hover  in  the  world  of  his  lifetime, 

Swift-changing  Tsunemasa. 

By  this  name  we  call  him,  yet  of  the  body 

That  men  named  so,  what  is  left  but  longing? 

What  but  the  longing  to  look  again,  through  the  wall  of  death, 

On  one  he  loved? 

"Sooner  shall  the  waters  in  its  garden  cease  to  flow 

Than  I  grow  weary  of  living  in  the  Palace  of  my  Lord."  1 

Like  a  dream  he  has  come, 

Like  a  morning  dream. 

GYOKEI. 

How  strange!  When  the  form  of  Tsunemasa  had  vanished,  his 
voice  lingered  and  spoke  to  me!  Am  I  dreaming  or  waking?  I  can- 
not tell.  But  this  I  know, — that  by  the  power  of  my  incantations  I 
have  had  converse  with  the  dead.  Oh !  marvellous  potency  of  the  Law ! 

TSUNEMASA. 

It  was  long  ago  that  I  came  to  the  Palace.  I  was  but  a  boy  then,  but 
all  the  world  knew  me;  for  I  was  marked  with  the  love  of  our  Lord, 
with  the  favour  of  an  Emperor.  And,  among  many  gifts,  he  gave  to 
me  once  while  I  was  in  the  World  this  lute  which  you  have  dedicated. 
My  fingers  were  ever  on  its  strings. 

CHORUS. 

Plucking  them  even  as  now 
This  music  plucks  at  your  heart ; 
The  sound  of  the  plectrum,  then  as  now 
Divine  music  fulfilling 

1  Part  of  the  poem  which  Tsunemasa  gave  to  the  Emperor  before  he  went  to 
battle. 


54  THE   NO    PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

The  vows  of  Sarasvati.  * 

But  this  Tsunemasa, 

Was  he  not  from  the  days  of  his  childhood  pre-eminent 

In  faith,  wisdom,  benevolence, 

Honour  and  courtesy;  yet  for  his  pleasure 

Ever  of  birds  and  flowers, 

Of  wind  and  moonlight  making 

Ballads  and  songs  to  join  their  harmony 

To  pipes  and  lutes? 

So  springs  and  autumns  passed  he. 

But  in  a  World  that  is  as  dew, 

As  dew  on  the  grasses,  as  foam  upon  the  waters, 

What  flower  lasteth? 

GYOKEI. 

For  the  dead  man's  sake  we  play  upon  this  lute  Green  Hill  that  he 
loved  when  he  was  in  the  World.  We  follow  the  lute-music  with  a 
concord  of  many  instruments. 

(Music.) 

TSUNEMASA. 

And  while  they  played  the  dead  man  stole  up  behind  them.  Though 
he  could  not  be  seen  by  the  light  of  the  candle,  they  felt  him  pluck  the 
lute-strings.  .  .  . 

GYOKEI. 

It  is  midnight.  He  is  playing  Yabanraku,  the  dance  of  midnight- 
revel.  And  now  that  we  have  shaken  sleep  from  our  eyes  .  .  . 

TSUNEMASA. 

The  sky  is  clear,  yet  there  is  a  sound  as  of  sudden  rain.  .  .  . 

GYOKEI. 

Rain  beating  carelessly  on  trees  and  grasses.  What  season's 
music  2  ought  we  to  play? 

1  Goddess  of  Music,  who  vowed  that  she  would  lead  all  souls  to  salvation  by  the 
music  of  her  lute. 

2  Different  tunes  were  appropriate  to  different   seasons. 


TSUNEMASA  55 


TSUNEMASA. 

No.     It  is  not  rain.     Look!   At  the  cloud's  fringe 

CHORUS. 

The  moon  undimmed 

Hangs  over  the  pine-woods  of  Narabi *  Hills. 

It  was  the  wind  you  heard; 

The  wind  blowing  through  the  pine-leaves 

Pattered,  like  the  falling  of  winter  rain. 

0  wonderful  hour! 

"The  big  strings  crashed  and  sobbed 

Like  the  falling  of  winter  rain. 

And  the  little  strings  whispered  secretly  together. 

The  first  and  second  string 

Were  like  a  wind  sweeping  through  pine-woods, 

Murmuring  disjointedly. 

The  third  and  fourth  string 

Were  like  the  voice  of  a  caged  stork 

Crying  for  its  little  ones  at  night 

In  low,  dejected  notes."  2 

The  night  must  not  cease. 

The  cock  shall  not  crow 

And  put  an  end  to  his  wandering.8 

TSUNEMASA. 

"One  note  of  the  phoenix-flute  4 

CHORUS. 

Shakes  the  autumn  clouds  from  the  mountain-side."  5 

The  phoenix  and  his  mate  swoop  down 

Charmed  by  its  music,  beat  their  wings 

And  dance  in  rapture,  perched  upon  the  swaying  boughs 

Of  kiri  and  bamboo. 

(Dance.) 

1  A  range  of  hills  to  the  south  of  the  Ninnaji.    The  name  means  the  "Row  of 

Hills." 

2  Quotation   from   Po   Chu-i's  "Lute   Girl's   Song";    for   paraphrase  see  Giles* 
Chinese  Literature,  p.  166. 

3  The  ghost  must  return  at  dawn. 
«  The  sheng. 

5  Quotation  from  Chinese  poem  in  Royei  Shu. 


56  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

TSUNEMASA. 

Oh  terrible  anguish! 

For  a  little  while  I  was  back  in  the  World  and  my  heart  set  on  its 
music,  on  revels  of  midnight.     But  now  the  hate  is  rising  in  me.  .  .  .* 

GYOKEI. 

The  shadow  that  we  saw  before  is  still  visible. 
Can  it  be  Tsunemasa? 

TSUNEMASA. 

Oh !  I  am  ashamed ;  I  must  not  let  them  see  me. 
Put  out  your  candle. 

CHORUS. 

"Let  us  turn  away  from  the  candle  and  watch  together 

The  midnight  moon." 

Lo,  he  who  holds  the  moon, 

The  god  Indra,  in  battle  appeareth 

Warring  upon  demons. 

Fire  leaps  from  their  swords, 

The  sparks  of  their  own  anger  fall  upon  them  like  rain. 

To  wound  another  he  draws  his  sword, 

But  it  is  from  his  own  flesh 

That  the  red  waves  flow ; 

Like  flames  they  cover  him. 

"Oh,  I  am  ashamed  of  the  woes  that  consume  me. 

No  man  must  see  me.     I  will  put  out  the  candle!"  he  said; 

For  a  foolish  man  is  like  a  summer  moth  that  flies  into  the  flame.2 

The  wind  that  blew  out  the  candle 

Carried  him  away.     In  the  darkness  his  ghost  has  vanished. 

The  shadow  of  his  ghost  has  vanished. 

1  He  had  died  in  battle  and  was  therefore  condemned  to  perpetual  war  with  the 
demons  of  Hell. 

2  "The  wise  man  is  like  the  autumn  deer  crying  in  the  mountains ;  the  fool  is 
like  the  moth  which  flies  into  the  candle"  (Gempei  Seisuiki,  chap.  viii.). 


CHAPTER  II 

KUMASAKA 
EBOSHI-ORI 
BENKEI  ON  THE  BRIDGE 


THESE  three  plays  deal   with  the  boyhood   of  the  hero  Yoshitsune, 
whose  child-name  was  Ushiwaka. 

Eboshi-ori  is  a  genzcd-mono,  that  is  to  say  a  play  which  describes 
events  actually  in  progress.  In  Kumasaka  these  same  events  are  re- 
hearsed by  the  ghost  of  one  who  participated  in  them.  There  are  two 
other  well-known  Yoshitsune  plays,  Funa-Benkei  and  Ataka.  In  the 
former  the  phantoms  of  the  dead  Taira  warriors  attack  the  boat  in 
which  Yoshitsune  and  Benkei  are  riding;  in  the  latter  occurs  the  famous 
scene  called  the  Kwanjincho,  in  which  Benkei  pretends  to  read  out  from 
a  scroll  a  long  document  which  he  is  in  reality  improvising  on  the  spot. 
(See  Mr.  Sansom's  translations  of  these  two  plays  in  the  Transactions 
of  the  Asiatic  Society  of  Japan,  1911.)  The  Kwanjincho  was  borrowed 
by  the  popular  stage,  and  became  one  of  the  favourite  "turns"  of  the 
great  Danjuro  (1660-1703)  and  his  successors. 


KUMASAKA 
By   ZENCHIKU   UJINOBU    (1414^1499?) 

PERSONS 

A  PRIEST  FROM  THE  CAPITAL. 

A  PRIEST  OF  AKASAKA  (really  the  ghost  of  the  robber  KUMASAKA 

NO  CHOHAN). 
CHORUS. 

PRIEST. 

These  weary  feet  that  found  the  World 

Too  sad  to  walk  in,  whither 

Oh  whither  shall  wandering  lead  them? 

I  am  a  priest  from  the  Capital.     I  have  never  seen  the  East  country, 
and  now  I  am  minded  to  go  there  on  pilgrimage. 

(He  describes  the  journey,  walking  slowly  round  the  stage.) 

Over  the  mountains,  down  the  Omi  road  by  a  foam-flecked  stream; 

And  through  the  woods  of  Awazu. 

Over  the  long  bridge  of  Seta 

Heavily  my  footfall  clangs. 

In  the  bamboo-woods  of  Noji  I  await  the  dawn. 

There  where  the  morning  dew  lies  thick,  over  the  Greenfield  Plain, 

Green  in  name  only — for  the  leaves  are  red  with  autumn — 

In  evening  sunshine  to  the  village  of  Akasaka  I  am  come! 

KUMASAKA. 

(It  is  convenient  to  call  him  this,  but  he  is  the  ghost  of  Kumasaka, 
appearing  in  the  guise  of  a  priest.) 

Hey,  you  priest,  I  have  something  to  say  to  you ! 

PRIEST. 

What  is  it  you  would  say  to  me? 

60 


KUMASAKA  61 


KUMASAKA. 

To-day  is  some  one's  birthday.  I  beg  of  you  to  pray  for  the  salvation 
of  his  soul. 

PRIEST. 

I  have  left  the  World,  and  it  is  my  business  now  to  say  such  prayers; 
but  of  whom  am  I  to  think  when  I  pray? 

KUMASAKA. 

There  is  no  need  to  know  his  name.  He  is  buried  in  that  tomb  over 
there,  among  the  rushes  to  this  side  of  the  pine-tree.  It  is  because  he 
cannot  get  free  l  that  he  needs  your  prayers. 

PRIEST. 

No,  no;  it  will  not  do.  I  cannot  pray  for  him  unless  I  know  his 
name. 

KUMASAKA. 

Pray,  none  the  less.  For  it  is  written,  "All  the  creatures  of  the 
world  shall  be  profited. 

There  shall  be  no  distinction." 

PRIEST. 

From  dying  and  being  born. 

KUMASAKA. 

Deliver  him,  oh  deliver  him! 

CHORUS. 

For  he  that  taketh  a  prayer  unto  himself 

Even  though  his  name  be  not  named,  if  he  receive  it  gladly, 

Is  the  owner  of  the  prayer. 

Was  not  the  promise  made  to  the  trees  of  the  field, 

To  the  soil  of  the  land?     Though  the  heart  that  prays  marks  no 

name  upon  the  prayer, 
Yet  shall  it  be  heard. 

KUMASAKA. 

Then  come  back  to 'my  cottage  with  me  and  pass  the  night  there. 
l.r.  he  is  "attached"  to  earth  and  cannot  get  away  to  the  Western  Paradise. 


62  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

PRIEST. 
I  will  come. 

(They  go  into  the  cottage,  which  is   represented  by  a  wicker 
framework  at  the  front.) 

Listen!  I  thought  you  were  taking  me  to  where  there  would  be  a 
chapel,  so  that  I  could  begin  my  prayers.  But  here  I  can  see  no 
painted  picture  nor  carven  image  that  I  could  put  up.  There  is  noth- 
ing on  the  wall  but  a  great  pike, — no  handstaff,  but  only  an  iron 
crowbar;  and  other  weapons  of  war  are  nailed  up.  What  is  the 
reason  of  this? 

KUMASAKA. 

You  must  know  that  when  I  first  took  the  vows  of  priesthood  I  went 
round  from  village  to  village  here,  to  Tarui,  Auhaka  and  Akasaka — 
there  is  no  end  to  them,  but  I  know  all  the  roads, — through  the  tall 
grass  at  Aono  and  the  thick  woods  of  Koyasu,  night  or  day,  rain  or 
fine.  For  I  was  a  hill-bandit  in  those  days,  a  thief  of  the  night,  tilting 
baggage  from  mules'  backs;  even  stripping  servant-girls  of  their 
clothes,  as  they  went  from  farm  to  farm,  and  leaving  them  sobbing. 

Then  it  was  that  I  used  to  take  with  me  that  pike  there  and  waving 
it  in  their  faces,  "Stand  and  deliver!"  I  would  cry. 

But  at  last  a  time  came  when  it  was  not  so.1  And  after  that  time  I 
was  glad  enough  to  find  shelter  even  in  such  a  place  as  this.  I  yielded 
my  will  and  was  content.  For  at  last  I  had  indeed  resolved  to  leave 
the  hateful  World. 

Oh  petty  prowess  of  those  days! 

CHORUS. 

For  hand  of  priest  unfit  indeed 

Such  deeds  and  weapons  had  I  thought; 

Yet  among  gods 

Hath  not  the  Lord  Amida  his  sharp  sword? 

Doth  not  the  King  of  Love  2 

Shoot  arrows  of  salvation  from  his  bow? 

Tamon  with  tilted  lance 

Outbattled  demons  and  hath  swept  away 

All  perils  from  the  world. 

1  I.e.  the  time  of  his  encounter  with  Ushiwaka. 
*Aizen. 


KUMASAKA  63 


KUMASAKA. 

Thoughts  of  love  and  pity 
May  be  sins  fouler 

CHORUS. 

Than  the  Five  Faults  of  Datta;  l 

And  the  taking  of  life  for  faith 

Be  holiness  greater 

Than  the  six  virtues  of  Bosatsu.2 

These  things  have  I  seen  and  heard. 

But  for  the  rest,  is  it  not  Thought  alone 

That  either  wanders  in  the  trackless  night 

Of  Error  or  awakes  to  the  wide  day? 

"Master  thy  thoughts,  or  they  will  master  thee," 

An  ancient  proverb  3  says. 

(Speaking  for  Kumasaka.) 

"But  I  must  have  done,  or  dawn  will  find  me  talking  still.  Go  to 
your  rest,  Sir;  and  I  too  will  doze  awhile."  So  he  spoke,  and  seemed  to 
go  into  the  bedroom.  But  suddenly  the  cottage  vanished:  nothing 
was  left  but  the  tall  grass.  It  was  under  the  shadow  of  a  pine-tree  that 
he4  had  rested! 

(There  is  usually  an  interlude  to  occupy  the  time  while  Kumasaka 
is  changing  his  costume.  An  inhabitant  of  Akasaka  tells 
stories  of  Kumasaka' s  exploits.) 

PRIEST. 

I  have  seen  strange  things.  I  cannot  sleep,  no,  not  even  for  a  while 
as  little  as  the  space  between  the  antlers  of  a  young  stag.  Under  this 
autumn- winded  pine-tree  lying,  all  night  long  I  will  perform  a  service 
of  chanted  prayer.5 

KUMASAKA. 

(Reappearing  with  a  scarf  tied  round  his  head  and  a  long  pike 
over  his  shoulder.) 

1  Devadatta,  the  wicked  contemporary  of  Buddha. 

3 The  six  paths  to  Bodisattva-hood,  i.e.  Almsgiving,  Observance  of  Rules,  For- 
bearance, Meditation,  Knowledge  and  Singleness  of  Heart 
•Actually  from  the  Nirvana  Sutra. 
«The  Priest.  «  Koye-butsuji,  "Voice-service." 


64  THE    NO    PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

The  wind  is  rising  in  the  south-east.  The  clouds  of  the  north-west 
are  shifting;  it  is  a  dark  night.  A  wild  wind  is  sweeping  the  woods 
under  the  hill. 

CHORUS. 

See  how  the  branches  are  heaving. 

KUMASAKA. 

The  moon  does  not  rise  till  dawn  to-night;  and  even  when  she  rises 
she  will  be  covered. 

Send  along  the  order  for  an  assault! 

(Recollecting  himself.) 

The  whole  heart  divided  between  bow-hand  and  rein-hand, — oh  the 
sin  of  it!  For  ever  seizing  another's  treasure!  Look,  look  on  my 
misery,  how  my  heart  clings  to  the  World ! 

PRIEST. 

If  you  are  Kumasaka  himself,  tell  me  the  story  of  those  days. 

KUMASAKA. 

There  was  a  merchant,  a  trafficker  in  gold,  called  Kichiji   of  the 
-  Third  Ward.     Each  year  he  brought  together  a  great  store,  and  loading 
it  in  bales  carried  it  up-country.     And  thinking  to  waylay  him  I  sum- 
moned divers  trusty  men.  .  .  . 

PRIEST. 

Tell  me  the  names  of  those  that  were  chosen  by  you  and  the 
countries  they  came  from. 

KUMASAKA. 

There  was  Kakujd  of  Kawachi,  and  the  brothers  Surihari  that  had 
no  rivals  in  fencing. 

PRIEST. 

Well,  and  from  within  the  City  itself  among  many  there  were — 

KUMASAKA. 

There  was  Emon  of  the  Third  Ward  and  Kozaru  of  Mibu. 


KUMASAKA  65 


PRIEST. 

Skilful  torch-throwers;  in  broken-attack 

KUMASAKA. 

Their  like  will  never  be  seen. 

PRIEST. 

And  from  the  North  country,  from  Echizen 

KUMASAKA. 

There  was  Matsuwaka  of  Asau  and  Kuro  of  Mikuni. 

PRIEST. 
And  from  the  country  of  Kaga,  from  Kumasaka 

KUMASAKA. 

There  was  this  Chohan,  the  first  of  them,  a  great  hand  at  deeds  of 
villainy;  and  with  him  seventy  men  of  the  band. 

PRIEST. 

On  all  the  roads  where  Kichiji  might  be  passing,  up  hill  and  down 
dale  on  every  halting-place  they  spied,  till  at  last 

KUMASAKA. 

Here  at  the  Inn  of  Akasaka  we  found  him, — a  fine  place,  with  many 
roads  leading  from  it.  We  set  watch  upon  the  place.  The  merchants 
had  sent  for  women.  From  nightfall  they  feasted.  They  roystered  the 
hours  away — 

PRIEST. 

And  at  last,  very  late  at  night, 

Kichiji  and  his  brother,  with  no  thought  for  safety, 

Fell  into  a  sodden  sleep. 

KUMASAKA. 

But  there  was  with  them  a  boy  of  sixteen.1 
He  put  his  bright  eye  to  a  hole  in  the  wall. 
He  did  not  make  the  least  noise. 

1  YoshitMine  (Ushiwaka)  had  run  away  from  the  temple  where  he  was  being 
educated  and  joined  the  merchant's  caravan;  see  p.  70. 


66  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

PRIEST. 

He  did  not  sleep  a  wink. 

KUMASAKA. 

Ushiwaka!     We  did  not  know  he  was  there. 

PRIEST. 
Then  the  robbers,  whose  luck  was  run  out, 

KUMASAKA. 

Thinking  that  the  hour  of  fortune  was  come, 

PRIEST. 

Waited  impatiently. 

CHORUS. 

Oh  how  long  it  seemed  till  at  last  the  order  came. 

KUMASAKA. 
Dash  in! 

CHORUS. 

And,  hurling  their  firebrands, 

In  they  rushed,  each  jostling  to  be  first, 

More  of  them  and  more,  in  a  wild  onslaught. 

Not  even  the  God  of  Peril  had  dared  to  face  them. 

But  little  Ushiwaka  showed  no  fear. 

He  drew  his  belt-sword  and  met  them. 

The  Lion  Pounce,  The  Tiger  Leap,  The  Bird  Pounce  .  .  .x 

He  parried  them  all.     They  thrust  at  him  but  could  not  prevail. 

Thirteen  there  were  who  attacked  him; 

And  now,  done  to  death,  on  the  same  pillow  head  to  head  they  lie. 

And  others,  wounded,  have  flung  down  their  swords  and  slunk  back 

weaponless, 

Stripped  of  all  else  but  life. 

Then  Kumasaka  cried:     "What  demon  or  god  can  he  be 
Under  whose  hand  all  these  have  fallen?     For  a  man  he  cannot  be! 
But  even  robbers  need  their  lives!     This  is  no  work  for  me;  I  will 

withdraw." 
And  slinging  his  pike,  slowly  he  turned  to  go. 

1  Names  of  strokes  in  fencing. 


KUMASAKA  67 


KUMASAKA. 
I  was  thinking. 

CHORUS. 

He  was  thinking  as  he  went, 

"Though  this  stripling  slash  so  bravely, 

Yet  should  Kumasaka  employ  his  secret  art, — 

Then  though  the  boy  be  ogre  or  hobgoblin, 

Waist-strangled  he  would  be  pressed  to  dust." 

"I  will  avenge  the  fallen,"  he  cried,  and,  turning  back, 

He  levelled  his  pike  and  sheltered  behind  the  wattled  door, 

Waiting  for  the  urchin  to  come. 

Ushiwaka  saw  him,  and  drawing  his  sword  held  it  close  to  his  side, 

Stood  apart  and  watched.     But  Kumasaka  too  stood  with  his  pike 

ready. 

Each  was  waiting  for  the  other  to  spring. 
Then  Kumasaka  lost  patience.     He  lunged  with  his  left  foot  and  with 

his  pike 

Struck  a  blow  that  would  have  pierced  an  iron  wall. 
But  Ushiwaka  parried  it  lightly  and  sprang  to  the  left. 
Kumasaka  was  after  him  in  a  moment,  and  as  he  sprang  nimbly  over 

the  pike,1 

Turned  the  point  towards  him. 

But  as  he  drew  back  the  pike,  Ushiwaka  crossed  to  the  right. 
Then  levelling  the  pike,  Kumasaka  struck  a  great  blow. 
This  time  the  boy  parried  it  with  a  blow  that  disengaged  them, 
And  springing  into  the  air  leapt  hither  and  thither  with  invisible 

speed. 

And  while  the  robber  sought  him, 
The  wonderful  boy  pranced  behind  and  stuck  his  sword  through  a 

rhink  in  his  coat  of  mail. 
"Hey,  what  is  that?"  cried  Kumasaka.     "Has  this  urchin  touched 

me?" 

And  he  was  very  angry. 
But  soon  Heaven's  fatal  ordinance  was  sealed  by  despair: 

iis  sword-play  brings  me  no  advantage,"  he  cried;  "I  will  wrestle 

uith  him." 
Then  he  threw  away  his  pike,  and  spreading  out  his  great  hands, 

1  I  have  thought  it  better  to  print  these  "recitals"  as  verse,  though  in  the  original 
(as  obviously  in  my  translation)  they  are  almost  prose. 


68  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

Down  this  corridor  and  into  this  corner  he  chased  him,  but  when  he 

would  have  grasped  him, 

Like  lightning,  mist,  moonlight  on  the  water, — 
The  eye  could  see,  but  the  hand  could  not  touch. 

KUMASAKA. 

I  was  wounded  again  and  again. 

CHORUS. 

He  was  wounded  many  times,  till  the  fierce  strength  of  his  spirit 
weakened  and  weakened.     Like  dew  upon  the  moss  that  grows. 

KUMASAKA. 

Round  the  foot  of  this  pine-tree 

CHORUS. 

Are  vanished  the  men  of  this  old  tale. 
"Oh,  help  me  to  be  born  to  happiness." 

(KUMASAKA  entreats  the  PRIEST  with  folded  hands.) 

The  cocks  are  crowing.     A  whiteness  glimmers  over  the  night. 
He  has  hidden  under  the  shadow  of  the  pine-trees  of  Akasaka; 

(KUMASAKA  hides  his  face  with  his  left  sleeve.) 
Under  the  shadow  of  the  pine-trees  he  has  hidden  himself  away. 


EBOSHI-ORI 
By    MIYAMASU     (sixteenth  century? ) 

PERSONS 

KICHIJI 


\ 


HIS  BROTHER  KICHIROKU  ^  Gold'mercharUs' 
VSH1WAKA.  MESSENGER. 

HATMAKER.  HATMAKER'S  WIFE. 

INNKEEPER.  KUMASAKA. 

BRIGANDS.  CHORUS. 

KICHIJI. 

We  as  travellers  dressed — 

Our  weary  feet  upon  the  Eastern  road 

For  many  days  must  speed. 

I  am  San  jo  no  Kichiji.  I  have  now  amassed  a  great  store  of  treasure 
and  with  my  brother  Kichiroku  am  going  to  take  it  down  to  the  East. 
Ho !  Kichiroku,  let  us  get  together  our  bundles  and  start  now. 

KICHIROKU. 

I  am  ready.     Let  us  start  at  once. 

USHIWAKA. 

Hie,  you  travellers!  If  you  are  going  up-country,  please  take  me 
with  you. 

KICHIJI. 

That  is  a  small  thing  to  ask.  Certainly  we  would  take  you  with 
us  .  .  .  ,  but  by  the  look  of  you,  I  fancy  you  must  be  an  apprentice 
playing  truant  from  your  master.  If  that  is  so,  I  cannot  take  you. 

USHIWAKA. 

I  have  neither  father  nor  mother,  and  my  master  has  turned  me  adrift. 
Please  let  me  go  with  you. 


70  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

KICHIJI. 

If  that  is  so,  I  cannot  any  longer  refuse  to  take  you  with  me.  (De- 
scribing his  own  action.) 

Then  he  offered  the  boy  a  broad-brimmed  hat. 

USHIWAKA. 

And  Ushiwaka  eagerly  grasped  it. 

To-day,  he  said,  begins  our  troublous  journey's  toil. 

CHORUS  (describing  the  journey  and  speaking  for  USHIWAKA). 
Past  the  creek  of  Awata,  to  Matsusaka, 
To  the  shore  of  Shinomiya  I  travel. 

Down  the  road  to  the  barrier  of  Osaka  walking  behind  pack-ponies, 
How  long  shall  I  serve  in  sadness  these  hucksters  of  gold? 
Here  where  once  the  blind  harper  *  lay  sorrowing 
On  a  cottage-bed,  far  away  from  the  City, 
Thinking  perhaps  some  such  thoughts  as  I  do  now. 
We  have  passed  the  plain  of  Awazu.     Over  the  long  bridge  of  Seta 
The  hoofs  of  our  ponies  clank. 
We  cross  the  hill  of  Moru,  where  the  evening  dew 
Lies  thick  on  country  paths  and,  caught  in  the  slanting  light, 
Gleams  on  the  under-leaves  till  suddenly  night 
Comes  on  us  and  in  darkness  we  approach 
The  Mirror  Inn. 

KICHIJI. 

We  have  travelled  so  fast  that  we  have  already  reached  the  Mirror 
Inn.  Let  us  rest  here  for  a  little  while. 

MESSENGER. 

I  am  a  servant  in  the  Palace  of  Rokuhara.  I  have  been  sent  to  fetch 
back  young  Ushiwaka,  Lord  Yoshitomo's  son,  who  has  escaped  from 
the  Temple  of  Kurama.  It  is  thought  that  he  has  taken  service  with 
the  merchant  Kichiji  and  has  gone  up-country  with  him;  so  they  sent 
me  to  bring  him  back.  Why,  I  believe  that  is  he!  But  perhaps  he  is 
not  alone.  I  cannot  be  sure.  I  had  better  go  home  and  fetch  help, 
for  if  I  were  one  against  many,  how  could  I  hope  to  take  him? 

USHIWAKA. 

I  think  it  is  about  me  that  this  messenger  is  speaking.     I  must  not 

1  Semimaru. 


YOUNG 


M\-K 


EBOSHIORI  71 


let  him  know  me.     I  will  cut  my  hair  and  wear  an  eboshi,1  so  that 
people  may  think  I  am  an  Eastern  boy. 

(He  goes  to  the  curtain  which  separates  the  green-room  from  the 
entrance- passage.  This  represents  for  the  moment  the  front 
of  the  haymaker's  shop.) 

May  I  come  in?      (The  curtain  is  raised.) 

HATMAKER. 

Who  is  it? 

USHIWAKA. 

I  have  come  to  order  an  eboshi. 

HATMAKER. 

An  eboshi  at  this  time  of  night?  I  will  make  you  one  to-morrow,  if 
you  like. 

USHIWAKA. 

Please  make  it  now.     I  am  travelling  in  a  hurry  and  cannot  wait. 

HATMAKER. 

Very  well  then;  I  will  make  it  now.     What  size  do  you  take? 

USHIWAKA. 

Please  give  me  an  eboshi  of  the  third  size,  folded  to  the  left. 

HATMAKER. 

I  am  afraid  I  cannot  do  that.  They  were  worn  folded  to  the  left 
in  the  time  of  the  Minamotos.  But  now  that  the  Tairas  rule  the  whole 
land  it  would  not  be  possible  to  wear  one  folded  so. 

USHIWAKA. 

In  spite  of  that  I  beg  of  you  to  make  me  one.  There  is  a  good 
reason  for  my  asking. 

HATMAKER. 

Well,  as  you  are  so  young  there  cannot  be  much  harm  in  your  wear- 
ing it.  I  will  make  you  one. 

(He  begins  to  make  the  hat.) 
1  A  tall,  nodding  hat 


72  THE   NO    PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

There  is  a  fine  story  about  these  left-folded  eboshi  and  the  luck  they 
bring.     Shall  I  tell  it  you? 

USHIWAKA. 

Yes,  pray  tell  me  the  story. 

HATMAKER. 

My  grandfather  lived  at  Karasu-maru  in  the  Third  Ward. 
It  was  the  time  when  Hachimantard  Yoshi-iye, 

having  routed  *  the  brothers  Sadato  and  Muneto, 
Came  home  in  triumph  to  the  Capital. 
And  when  he  was  summoned  to  the  Emperor's  Palace,  he  went  first 

to  my  grandfather  and  ordered  from  him 
A  left-folded  eboshi  for  the  Audience.     And  when  he  was  come 

before  the  Throne 
The  Emperor  welcomed  him  gladly 
And  as  a  token  of  great  favour  made  him  lord 
Of  the  lands  of  Outer  Mutsu. 
Even  such  an  eboshi  it  is  that  I  am  making  now, 
A  garment  of  good  omen. 
Wear  it  and  when  into  the  world 

CHORUS. 

When  into  the  world  you  go,  who  knows  but  that  Fate's  turn 

May  not  at  last  bring  you  to  lordship  of  lands, 

Of  Dewa  or  the  country  of  Michi. 

And  on  that  day  remember, 

Oh  deign  to  remember,  him  that  now  with  words  of  good  omen 

Folds  for  you  this  eboshi. 

On  that  day  forget  not  the  gift  you  owe! 

But  alas! 

These  things  were,  but  shall  not  be  again. 

The  time  of  the  left-folded  eboshi  was  long  ago : 

When  the  houses  of  Gen  and  Hei 2  were  in  their  pride, 

Like  the  plum-tree  and  cherry-tree  among  flowers, 

Like  Spring  and  Autumn  among  the  four  seasons. 

Then,  as  snow  that  would  outsparkle  the  moonlight, 

Gen  strove  with  Hei;  and  after  the  years  of  H5^en,8 

1 1064  A.  D. 
2  I.e.  Minamoto  and  Taira.  3  1156-1159  A.  D. 


EBOSHIORI  73 


The  house  of  Hei  prevailed  and  the  whole  land  was  theirs. 

So  is  it  now. 

But  retribution  shall  come;  time  shall  bring 

Its  changes  to  the  world  and  like  the  cherry-blossom 

This  eboshi  that  knows  its  season 

Shall  bloom  again.     Wait  patiently  for  that  time! 

HATMAKER. 
And  while  they  prayed 

CHORUS. 

Lo !     The  cutting  of  the  eboshi  was  done. 

Then  he  decked  it  brightly  with  ribbons  of  three  colours, 

Tied  the  strings  to  it  and  finished  it  handsomely. 

"Pray  deign  to  wear  it,"  he  cried,  and  set  it  on  the  boy's  head. 

Then,  stepping  back  to  look, 

"Oh  admirable  skill !     Not  even  the  captain  of  a  mighty  host 

Need  scorn  to  wear  this  hat!" 

HATMAKER. 
There  is  not  an  eboshi  in  the  land  that  fits  so  well. 

USHIWAKA. 

You  are  right;  please  take  this  sword  in  payment  for  it. 

HATMAKER. 

No,  no!     I  could  not  take  it  in  return  for  such  a  trifle. 

USHIWAKA. 
I  beg  you  to  accept  it. 

HATMAKER. 

Well,  I  cannot  any  longer  refuse.     How  glad  my  wife  will  be! 
(Calling.)     Are  you  there? 

WIFE. 

What  is  it?     (They  go  aside.) 

HATMAKER. 

This  young  lad  asked  me  to  make  him  an  eboshi,  and  when  it  was 
he  gave  me  this  sword  as  a  present.     Is  it  not  a  noble  payment? 


74  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

Here,  look  at  it.     (The  wife  takes  the  sword  and  when  she  has  examined 
it  bursts  into  tears.)     Why,  I  thought  you  would  treasure  it  like  a  gift 

.matter? 

\  from  Heaven.     And  here  you  are  shedding  tears  over  it !     What  is  the 

A> 

WIFE. 

Oh!  I  am  ashamed.  When  I  try  to  speak,  tears  come  first  and 
choke  the  words.  I  am  going  to  tell  you  something  I  have  never  told 
you  before.  I  am  the  sister  of  Kamada  Masakiyo  who  fell  at  the 
Battle  of  Utsumi  in  the  country  of  Noma.  At  the  time  when  Tokiwa 
bore  Ushiwaka,  her  third  son,  the  lord  her  husband  sent  her  this  weapon 
as  a  charm-sword,  and  I  was  the  messenger  whom  he  charged  to  carry 
it.  Oh  were  he  in  the  world  again;  x  then  would  our  eyes  no  longer 
behold  such  misery.  Oh  sorrow,  sorrow ! 

HATMAKER. 

You  say  that  you  are  the  sister  of  Kamada  Masakiyo? 

WIFE. 
I  am. 

HATMAKER. 

How  strange,  how  strange!  I  have  lived  with  you  all  these  years  and 
months,  and  never  knew  till  now.  But  are  you  sure  that  you  recognize 
this  weapon? 

WIFE. 

Yes ;  this  was  the  sword  they  called  Konnento. 

HATMAKER. 

Ah!  I  have  heard  that  name.  Then  this  must  be  the  young  Lord 
Ushiwaka  from  Kurama  Temple.  Come  with  me.  We  must  go  after 
him  and  give  him  back  the  sword  at  once.  Why,  he  is  still  there! 
(To  USHIWAKA.)  Sir,  this  woman  tells  me  she  knows  the  sword; 
I  beg  of  you  to  take  it  back. 

USHIWAKA. 

Oh!  strange  adventure;  to  meet  so  far  from  home 
With  humble  folk  that  show  me  kindness! 

1  Yoshi-iye. 


EBOSHIORI  75 


HATMAKER  and  WIFE. 

My  Lord,  forgive  us!  We  did  not  know  you;  but  now  we  see  in 
you  Lord  Ushiwaka,  the  nursling  of  Kurama  Temple. 

USHIWAKA. 

I  am  no  other.  (To  the  WIFE.)  And  you,  perhaps,  are  some 
kinswoman  of  Masakiyo?  * 

WIFE. 

You  have  guessed  wisely,  sir;  I  am  the  Kamada's  sister. 

USHIWAKA. 
Lady  Akoya? 

WIFE. 
I  am. 

USHIWAKA. 

Truly  I  have  reason  to  know.  .  .  .     And  / 

CHORUS. 

Am  Ushiwaka  fallen  on  profitless  days. 
Of  whom  no  longer  you  may  speak 
As  master,  but  as  one  sunk  in  strange  servitude. 
Dawn  is  in  the  east;  the  pale  moon  fades  from  the  sky,  as  he  sets 
forth  from  the  Mirror  Inn. 

HATMAKER  and  WIFE. 

Oh!  it  breaks  my  heart  to  see  him!  A  boy  of  noble  name  walking 
barefoot  with  merchants,  and  nothing  on  his  journey  but  cloth  of 
Shikama  to  clothe  him.  Oh!  piteous  sight! 

USHIWAKA. 

Change  rules  the  world  for  ever,  and  Man  but  for  a  little  while. 
What  are  fine  clothes  to  me,  what  life  itself  while  foemen  flaunt? 

HATMAKER. 
As  a  journey-present  to  speed  you  on  the  Eastern  road  .  .  . 

1  Ushiwaka  had  not   heard  this  conversation   between   the  hatmaker  and  his 
uh  irh  takes  place  as  an  "aside." 


76  THE   NO    PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

CHORUS. 

So  he  spoke  and  pressed  the  sword  into  the  young  lord's  hands. 
And  the  boy  could  not  any  longer  refuse,  but  taking  it  said,  "If  ever 
I  come  into  the  World  x  again,  I  will  not  forget."  And  so  saying  he 
turned  and  went  on  his  way  in  company  with  the  merchants  his  masters. 
On  they  went  till  at  last,  weary  with  travel,  they  came  to  the  Inn  of 
Akasaka  in  the  country  of  Mino. 

KICHIJI  (the  merchant). 

We  have  come  so  fast  that  here  we  are  at  the  Inn  of  Akasaka. 

(To  his  BROTHER.) 
Listen,  Kichiroku,  you  had  better  take  lodging  for  us  here. 

KICHIROKU. 

I  obey.     (Goes  towards  the  hashigakari  or  actors9  entrance- pas  sage.) 
May  I  come  in? 

INNKEEPER. 

Who  are  you?  Ah!  it  is  Master  Kichiroku.  I  am  glad  to  see  you 
back  again  so  soon. 

(To  KICHIJI.) 

Be  on  your  guard,  gentleman.  For  a  desperate  gang  has  got  wind 
of  your  coming  and  has  sworn  to  set  upon  you  to-night. 

KICHIJI. 

What  are  we  to  do? 

KICHIROKU. 
I  cannot  tell. 

USHIWAKA  (comes  forward). 
What  are  you  speaking  of? 

KICHIJI. 

We  have  heard  that  robbers  may  be  coming  to-night.  We  were  won- 
dering what  we  should  do.  ... 

USHIWAKA. 

Let  them  come  in  what  force  they  will;  yet  if  one  stout  soldier  go 

1  I.e.  into  power. 


EBOSHIORI  77 


to  meet  them,  they  will  not  stand  their  ground,  though  they  be  fifty 
mounted  men. 

KICHIJI. 

These  are  trusty  words  that  you  have  spoken  to  us.  One  and  all  we 
look  to  you.  .  .  . 

USHIWAKA. 

Then  arm  yourselves  and  wait.     I  will  go  out  to  meet  them. 

CHORUS. 

And  while  he  spoke,  evening  passed  to  darkness.  "Now  is  the  time," 
he  cried,  "to  show  the  world  those  arts  of  war  that  for  many  months 
and  years  upon  the  Mountain  of  Kurama  I  have  rehearsed." 

Then  he  opened  the  double-doors  and  waited  there  for  the  slow  in- 
coming of  the  white  waves.1 

BRIGANDS. 

Loud  the  noise  of  assault.  The  lashing  of  white  waves  against  the 
rocks,  even  such  is  the  din  of  our  battle-cry. 

KUMASAKA. 

Ho,  my  man!     Who  is  there? 

BRIGAND. 

I  stand  before  you. 

KUMASAKA. 

How  fared  those  skirmishers  I  sent  to  make  a  sudden  breach?     Blew 
wind  briskly  within? 

UGAND. 

Briskly  indeed;  for  some  are  slain  and  many  grievously  wounded. 

[ASAKA. 

How  can  that  be?     I  thought  that  none  were  within  but  the  mer- 
its, Kichiji  and  his  brother.     Who  else  is  there? 

robbers.    A  band  of  brigands  who  troubled  China  in  184  A.  n.  were  known 
the  White  Waves,  and  the  phrase  was  later  applied  to  robbers  in  general. 


78  THE    N$    PLAYS    OF   JAPAN 

BRIGAND. 

By  the  light  of  a  rocket1  I  saw  a  lad  of  twelve  or  thirteen  years 
slashing  about  him  with  a  short-sword;  and  he  was  nimble  as  a  butter- 
fly or  bird. 

KUMASAKA. 

And  the  brothers  Surihari? 

BRIGAND. 

Stood  foster-fathers  *  to  the  fire-throwers  and  were  the  first  to  enter. 
But  soon  there  meets  them  this  child  I  tell  of  and  with  a  blow  at  each 
whisks  off  their  heads  from  their  necks. 

KUMASAKA. 

Ei!  Ei!  Those  two,  and  the  horsemen  that  were  near  a  hundred 
strong, — all  smitten!  The  fellow  has  bewitched  them! 

BRIGAND. 

When  Takase  saw  this,  thinking  perhaps  no  good  would  come  of 
this  night-attack,  he  took  some  seventy  horsemen  and  galloped  away 
with  them. 

KUMASAKA. 

Ha!     It  is  not  the  first  time  that  lout  has  played  me  false. 
How  fared  the  torch-diviners?  * 

BRIGAND. 

The  first  torch  was  slashed  in  pieces ;  the  second  was  trampled  on  till 
it  went  out;  the  third  they  caught  and  threw  back  at  us,  but  it  too  went 
out.  There  are  none  left. 

KUMASAKA. 

Then  is  all  lost.  For  of  these  torch-diviners  they  sing  that  the  first 
torch  is  the  soul  of  an  army,  the  second  torch  is  the  wheel  of  Fate,  and 
the  third  torch — Life  itself.  All  three  are  out,  and  there  is  no  hope 
left  for  this  night's  brigandage. 

BRIGAND. 

It  is  as  you  say.  Though  we  were  gods,  we  could  not  redeem  our 
plight.  Deign  to  give  the  word  of  retreat. 

1  Torches  were  thrown  among  the  enemy  to  discover  their  number  and  defences. 


EBOSHIORI  79 


KUMASAKA. 

Why,  even  brigands  must  be  spared  from  slaughter.  Come,  with- 
draw my  men. 

BRIGAND. 
I  obey. 

KUMASAKA. 

Stay!  Shall  Kumasaka  Chohan  be  worsted  in  to-night's  affray? 
Never!  Where  could  he  then  hide  his  shame?  Come,  robbers,  to  the 
attack! 

CHORUS. 

So  with  mighty  voice  he  called  them  to  him,  and  they,  raising  their 
war-cry,  leapt  to  the  assauit. 

(Speaking  for  USHIWAKA.) 

"Hoho!  What  a  to-do!  Himself  has  come,  undaunted  by  the  fate 
of  those  he  sent  before  him.  Now,  Hachiman,1  look  down  upon  me, 
for  no  other  help  is  here."  So  he  prayed,  and  stood  waiting  at  the 


(Speaking  for  KUMASAKA.) 

"Sixty-three  years  has  Kumasaka  lived,  and  to-day  shall  make  his 
last  night-assault."  2  So  he  spoke  and  kicking  off  his  iron-shoes  in  a 
twinkling  he  levelled  his  great  battle-sword  that  measured  five  foot 
three,  and  as  he  leapt  forward  like  a  great  bird  pouncing  on  liis  prey, 
no  god  or  demon  had  dared  encounter  him. 

(Speaking  for  USHIWAKA.) 

"Ha,  bandit!  Be  not  so  confident!  These  slinking  night-assaults 
displease  me";  and  leaving  him  no  leisure,  the  boy  dashed  in  to  the 
attack. 

Then,  Kumasaka,  deeply  versed  in  use  of  the  battle-sword,  lunged 
with  his  left  foot  and  in  succession  he  executed  The  Ten-Side  Cut,  The 
Eight-Side   Sweep,  The   Body  Wheel,  The  Hanyii   Turn,  The  Wind 
The  Flower  Double. 
Roll,  The  Blade  Drop,  The  Gnashing  Lion,  The  Maple-Leaf  Double, 

Now  fire  dances  at  the  sword-points; 

1  God  of  War  and  clan-god  of  the  Minamotos. 
*  He  feels  that  he  is  too  old  for  the  work. 


80  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

Now  the  sword-backs  clash. 

At  last  even  the  great  battle-sword  has  spent  its  art.  Parried  by  the 
little  belt-sword  of  Zoshi,1  it  has  become  no  more  than  a  guard-sword. 

(Speaking  for  KUMASAKA.) 

"This  sword-play  brings  me  no  advantage;  I  will  close  with  him 
and  try  my  strength!" 

Then  he  threw  down  his  battle-sword  and  spreading  out  his  great 
hands  rushed  wildly  forward.  But  Ushiwaka  dodged  him,  and  as  he 
passed  mowed  round  at  his  legs. 

The  robber  fell  with  a  crash,  and  as  he  struggled  to  rise 

The  belt-sword  of  Ushiwaka  smote  him  clean  through  the  waist. 

And  Kumasaka  that  had  been  one  man 

Lay  cloven  in  twain. 

1  I.e.  Ushiwaka. 


BENKEI   ON   THE   BRIDGE 

(HASHI-BENKEI) 

By   HIYOSHI   SA-AMI   YASUKIYO 

(Date  unknown,  probably  first  half  of  the  fifteenth  century.) 

PERSONS 

BENKEI.  F  LLOWER. 

USHIWAKA.  CHORUS. 

BENKEI. 

I  am  one  who  lives  near  the  Western  Pagoda.  My  name  is  Musashi- 
bo  Benkei.  In  fulfillment  of  a  certain  vow  I  have  been  going  lately 
by  night  at  the  hour  of  the  Ox  *  to  worship  at  the  Go  jo  Temple.  To- 
night is  the  last  time;  I  ought  soon  to  be  starting. 

Hie!     Is  any  one  there? 

FOLLOWER. 
Here  I  am. 

BENKEI. 

I  sent  for  you  to  tell  you  that  I  shall  be  going  to  the  Gojo  Temple 
to-night. 

FOLLOWER. 

I  tremble  and  listen.  But  there  is  a  matter  that  I  must  bring  to  your 
notice.  I  hear  that  yesterday  there  was  a  boy  of  twelve  or  thirteen 
guarding  the  Gojo  Bridge.  They  say  he  was  slashing  round  with  his 
short  sword  as  nimble  as  a  bird  or  butterfly.  I  beg  that  you  will  not 
make  your  pilgrimage  to-night.  Do  not  court  this  peril. 

BENKEI. 

That's  a  strange  thing  to  ask!  Why,  were  he  demon  or  hobgoblin, 
he  could  not  stand  alone  against  many.  We  will  surround  him  and 
you  shall  soon  see  him  on  his  knees. 

A.M. 

81 


82  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

FOLLOWER. 

They  have  tried  surrounding  him,  but  he  always  escapes  as  though 
by  magic,  and  none  is  able  to  lay  hands  on  him. 

BENKEI. 

When  he  seems  within  their  grasp 

FOLLOWER. 

From  before  their  eyes 

BENKEI. 

Suddenly  he  vanishes. 

CHORUS. 

This  strange  hobgoblin,  elfish  apparition, 

Into  great  peril  may  bring 

The  reverend  limbs  of  my  master. 

In  all  this  City  none  can  withstand  the  prowess 

Of  this  unparalleled  monster. 

BENKEI. 

If  this  is  as  you  say,  I  will  not  go  to-night;  and  yet  .  .  .  No.  It 
is  not  to  be  thought  of  that  such  a  one  as  Benkei  should  be  affrighted 
by  a  tale.  To-night  when  it  is  dark  I  will  go  to  the  bridge  and  hum- 
ble this  arrogant  elf. 

CHORUS. 

And  while  he  spoke, 

Evening  already  to  the  western  sky  had  come; 

Soon  the  night-wind  had  shattered  and  dispersed 

The  shapes  of  sunset.     Cheerless  night 

Came  swiftly,  but  with  step  too  slow 

For  him  who  waits. 

(A  Comic  interlude  played  by  a  bow-master  is  sometimes  used 
here  to  fill  in  the  time  while  BENKEI  is  arming  himself.) 

USHIWAKA. 

I  am  Ushiwaka.  I  must  do  as  my  mother  told  me;  "Go  up  to  the 
Temple  x  at  daybreak,"  she  said.  But  it  is  still  night.  I  will  go  to 

1  The  Kurama  Temple. 


BENKEI    ON    THE    BRIDGE  83 

Gojo  Bridge  and  wait  there  till  suddenly 

Moonlight  mingles  with  the  rising  waves; 

No  twilight  closes 

The  autumn  day,  but  swiftly 

The  winds  of  night  bring  darkness. 

CHORUS  (5 peaking  / or  USHIWAKA). 

Oh!  beauty  of  the  waves!     High  beats  my  heart, 

High  as  their  scattered  pearls! 

Waves  white  as  dewy  calabash  l  at  dawn, 

By  Gojo  Bridge. 

Silently  the  night  passes, 

No  sound  but  my  own  feet  upon  the  wooden  planks 

Clanking  and  clanking;  still  I  wait 

And  still  in  vain. 

BENKEI. 

The  night  grows  late.     Eastward  the  bells  of  the  Three  Pagodas  toll. 

By  the  moonlight  that  gleams  through  leaves  of  these  thick  cedar-trees 

I  gird  my  armour  on; 

I  fasten  the  black  thongs  of  my  coat  of  mail. 

I  adjust  its  armoured  skirts. 

By  the  middle  I  grasp  firmly 

My  great  halberd  that  I  have  loved  so  long. 

I  lay  it  across  my  shoulder;  with  leisurely  step  stride  forward. 

Be  he  demon  or  hobgoblin,  how  shall  he  stand  against  me? 

tSuch  trust  have  I  in  my  own  prowess.     Oh,  how  I  long 
For  a  foeman  worthy  of  my  hand! 

BENKEI. 

fThen  Benkei,  all  unknowing, 
F  lowers  of  the  yugao  or  calabash.    There  is  a  reference  to  Lady  Yugao  (i 
142,  who  lived  at  Gojo. 


USHIWAKA. 

The  river-wind  blows  keen ; 

The  night  is  almost  spent, 

Mi  it  none  has  crossed  the  Bridge. 

I  am  disconsolate  and  will  lie  down  to  rest. 


84  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

Came  towards  the  Bridge  where  white  waves  lapped. 
Heavily  his  feet  clanked  on  the  boards  of  the  Bridge. 

USHIWAKA. 

And  even  before  he  saw  him  Ushiwaka  gave  a  whoop  of  joy. 
"Some  one  has  come,"  he  cried,  and  hitching  his  cloak  over  his 

shoulder 
Took  his  stand  at  the  bridge-side. 

BENKEI. 

Benkei  discerned  him  and  would  have  spoken.  .  .  . 
But  when  he  looked,  lo!  it  was  a  woman's  form! 
Then,  because  he  had  left  the  World,1  with  troubled  mind  he  hurried 
on. 

USHIWAKA. 

Then  Ushiwaka  said, 

"I  will  make  game  of  him,"  and  as  Benkei  passed 

Kicked  at  the  button  of  his  halberd  so  that  it  jerked  into  the  air. 

BENKEI  (cries  out  in  surprise). 
Ah!  fool,  I  will  teach  you  a  lesson! 

CHORUS. 

Then  Benkei  while  he  retrieved  his  halberd 

Cried  out  in  anger, 

"You  shall  soon  feel  the  strength  of  my  arm,"  and  fell  fiercely  upon 

him. 

But  the  boy,  not  a  jot  alarmed, 

Stood  his  ground  and  with  one  hand  pulled  aside  his  cloak, 
While  with  the  other  he  quietly  drew  his  sword  from  the  scabbard 
And  parried  the  thrust  of  the  halberd  that  threatened  him. 
Again  and  again  he  parried  the  halberd's  point. 
And  so  they  fought,  now  closing,  now  breaking. 
What  shall  Benkei  do?     For  when  he  thinks  that  he  has  conquered, 
With  his  little  sword  the  boy  thrusts  the  blow  aside. 
Again  and  again  Benkei  strikes. 
Again  and  again  his  blows  are  parried, 

1  Because  he  was  a  priest. 


BENKEI     ON    THE    BRIDGE  85 

Till  at  last  even  he,  mighty  Benkei, 

Can  do  battle  no  longer. 

Disheartened  he  steps  back  the  space  of  a  few  bridge-beams. 

"Monstrous,"  he  cries,  "that  this  stripling  .  .  .  No,  it  cannot  be. 

He  shall  not  outwit  my  skill." 

And  holding  out  his  halberd  at  full  length  before  him 

He  rushed  forward  and  dealt  a  mighty  blow. 

But  Ushiwaka  turned  and  dived  swiftly  to  the  left. 

Benkei  recovered  his  halberd  and  slashed  at  the  boy's  skirts; 

But  he,  unfaltering,  instantly  leapt  from  the  ground. 

And  when  he  thrust  at  the  boy's  body, 

Then  Ushiwaka  squirmed  with  head  upon  the  ground. 

Thus  a  thousand,  thousand  bouts  they  fought, 

Till  the  halberd  fell  from  Benkei's  weary  hands. 

He  would  have  wrestled,  but  the  boy's  sword  flashed  before  him, 

And  he  could  get  no  hold. 

Then  at  his  wits'  end,  "Oh,  marvellous  youth!" 

Benkei  cried,  and  stood  dumbfounded. 

CHORUS. 

Who  are  you  that,  so  young  and  frail,  possess  such  daring?     Tell 
us  your  name  and  state. 

USHIWAKA. 

Why  should  I  conceal  it  from  you?     I  am  Minamoto  Ushiwaka. 

CHORUS. 

Yoshitomo's  son? 

USHIWAKA. 

I  am.     And  your  name  .  .  .   ? 

CHORUS  (speaking  for  BENKEI) . 

"I  am  called  Musashi  Benkei  of  the  Western  Pagoda. 

And  now  that  we  have  told  our  names, 

I  surrender  myself  and  beg  for  mercy; 

For  you  are  yet  a  child,  and  I  a  priest. 

Such  are  your  rank  and  lineage,  such  your  prowess 

That  I  will  gladly  serve  you. 


86  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

Too  hastily  you  took  me  for  an  enemy;  but  now  begins 

A  three  lives'  bond ;  henceforward  x 

As  slave  I  serve  you." 

So,  while  the  one  made  vows  of  homage,  the  other  girded  up  his 

cloak. 

Then  Benkei  laid  his  halberd  across  his  shoulder 
And  together  they  went  on  their  way 
To  the  palace  of  Kuj5.2 

1  I.e.  three  incarnations.  2  Ushiwaka's  home. 


,PTER  III 

KAGEKIYO 
HACHI  NO  KI 
SOTOBA  KOMACHI 


KAGEKIYO 
By  SEAMI 

PERSONS 

A  GIRL  (Kagekiyo's  daughter).  HER  ATTENDANT. 

KAGEKIYO  THE  PASSIONATE.  A  VILLAGER. 

CHORUS. 

GIRL  and  ATTENDANT. 

Late  dewdrops  are  our  lives  that  only  wait 
Till  the  wind  blows,  the  wind  of  morning  blows. 

GIRL. 

I  am  Hitomaru.  I  live  in  the  valley  of  Kamegaye.  My  father 
Kagekiyo  the  Passionate  fought  for  the  House  of  Hei  *  and  for  this 
was  hated  by  the  Genji.2  I  am  told  they  have  banished  him  to  Miya- 
zaki  in  the  country  of  Hyuga,  and  there  in  changed  estate  he  passes 
the  months  and  years.  I  must  not  be  downcast  at  the  toil  of  the 
journey;  8  for  hardship  is  the  lot  of  all  that  travel  on  unfamiliar 
roads,  and  I  must  bear  it  for  my  father's  sake. 

GIRL  and  ATTENDANT. 
Oh  double-wet  our  sleeves 

With  the  tears  of  troubled  dreaming  and  the  dews 
That  wet  our  grassy  bed. 
We  leave  Sagami;  who  shall  point  the  way 
To  Totomi,  far  off  not  only  in  name?  4 
Over  the  sea  we  row: 

1  The  Tairas. 

2  The  Minamotoft,  who  came  into  power  at  the  end  of  the  twelfth  century. 
•  The  journey  to  look  for  her  father. 

tr.mi    i<    \\ritirn    *ith    characters    meaning   "distant    estuary.'*    The   whole 
passage  is  full  of  double-meanings  which  cannot  be  rendered. 


90  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

And  now  the  eight-fold  Spider  Bridge  we  cross 
To  Mikawa.     How  long,  0  City  of  the  Clouds,1 
Shall  we,  inured  to  travel,  see  you  in  our  dreams? 

ATTENDANT. 

We  have  journeyed  so  fast  that  I  think  we  must  already  have  come 
to  Miyazaki  in  the  country  of  Hyuga.  It  is  here  you  should  ask  for 
your  father. 

(The  voice  of  KAGEKIYO  is  heard  from  within  his  hut.) 

KAGEKIYO. 

Behind  this  gate, 

This  pine-wood  barricade  shut  in  alone 

I  waste  the  hours  and  days; 

By  me  not  numbered,  since  my  eyes  no  longer 

See  the  clear  light  of  heaven,  but  in  darkness, 

Unending  darkness,  profitlessly  sleep 

In  this  low  room. 

For  garment  given  but  one  coat  to  cover 

From  winter  winds  or  summer's  fire 

This  ruin,  this  anatomy! 

CHORUS  (speaking  for  KAGEKIYO). 
Oh  better  had  I  left  the  world,  to  wear 
The  black-stained  sleeve. 
Who  will  now  pity  me,  whose  withered  frame 
Even  to  myself  is  hateful? 
Or  who  shall  make  a  care  to  search  for  me 
And  carry  consolation  to  my  woes? 

GIRL. 

How  strange!  That  hut  is  so  old,  I  cannot  think  that  any  one  can 
live  there.  Yet  I  heard  a  voice  speaking  within.  Perhaps  some 
beggar  lodges  there;  I  will  not  go  nearer.  (She  steps  back.) 

KAGEKIYO. 

Though  my  eyes  see  not  autumn 
Yet  has  the  wind  brought  tiding 

iThe  Capital. 


KAGEKIYO  91 


GIRL. 

Of  one  who  wanders 

By  ways  unknown  bewildered, 

Finding  rest  nowhere — 

KAGEKIYO. 

For  in  the  Three  Worlds  of  Being 

Nowhere  is  rest,1  but  only 

In  the  Void  Eternal. 

None  is,  and  none  can  answer 

Where  to  thy  asking. 

ATTENDANT  (going  up  to  KAGEKIYO'S  hut). 
I  have  come  to  your  cottage  to  ask  you  something. 

KAGEKIYO. 

What  is  it  you  want? 

ATTENDANT. 

Can  you  tell  me  where  the  exile  lives? 

KAGEKIYO. 

The  exile?     What  exile  do  you  mean?     Tell  me  his  name. 

ATTENDANT. 

We  are  loking  for  Kagekiyo  the  Passionate  who  fought  for  the 
Taira. 

KAGEKIYO. 

I  have  heard  of  him  indeed.  But  I  am  blind,  and  have  not  seen  him. 
I  have  heard  such  sad  tales  of  his  plight  that  I  needs  must  pity  him. 
Go  further;  ask  elsewhere. 


ATTENDANT  (to  GIRL,  who  has  been  waiting). 

It  does  not  seem  that  we  shall  find  him  here.     Let  us  go  further  and 
ask  again.     (They  pass  on.) 

1  Quotation  from  the  Parable  Chapter  of  the  Hokkekyd. 


92  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

KAGEKIYO. 

Who  can  it  be  that  is  asking  for  me?  What  if  it  should  be  the  child 
of  this  blind  man?  For  long  ago  when  I  was  at  Atsuta  in  Owari  I 
courted  a  woman  and  had  a  child  by  her.  But  since  the  child  was  a 
girl,  I  thought  I  would  get  no  good  of  her  and  left  her  with  the  head- 
man of  the  valley  of  Kamegaye.  But  she  was  not  content  to  stay  with 
her  foster-parents  and  has  come  all  this  way  to  meet  her  true  father. 

CHORUS. 

To  hear  a  voice, 

To  hear  and  not  to  see! 

Oh  pity  of  blind  eyes! 

I  have  let  her  pass  by; 

I  have  not  told  my  name; 

But  it  was  love  that  bound  me, 

Love's  rope  that  held  me. 

ATTENDANT  (calling  into  the  side-bridge). 
Hie!     Is  there  any  villager  about? 

VILLAGER  (reusing  the  curtain  that  divides  the  side-bridge  from  the 
stage). 
What  do  you  want  with  me? 

ATTENDANT. 

Do  you  know  where  the  exile  lives? 

VILLAGER. 

The  exile?     What  exile  is  it  you  are  asking  for? 

ATTENDANT. 

One  called  Kagekiyo  the  Passionate  who  fought  for  the  Taira. 

VILLAGER. 

Did  you  not  see  some  one  in  a  thatched  hut  under  the  hillside  as  you 
came  along? 

ATTENDANT. 

Why,  we  saw  a  blind  beggar  in  a  thatched  hut. 


KAGEKIYO  93 


VILLAGER. 

That  blind  beggar  is  your  man.     He  is  Kagekiyo. 
(The  GIRL  starts  and  trembles.) 

But  why  does  your  lady  tremble  when  I  tell  you  that  he  is  Kagekiyo? 
What  is  amiss  with  her? 

ATTENDANT. 

No  wonder  that  you  ask.  I  will  tell  you  at  once;  this  lady  is 
Kagekiyo's  daughter.  She  has  borne  the  toil  of  this  journey  because 
she  longed  to  meet  her  father  face  to  face.  Please  take  her  to  him. 

VILLAGER. 

She  is  Kagekiyo's  daughter?  How  strange,  how  strange!  But,  lady, 
calm  yourself  and  listen. 

Kagekiyo  went  blind  in  both  his  eyes,  and  finding  himself  helpless, 
shaved  his  head  and  called  himself  the  beggar  of  Hyuga.  He  begs  a 
little  from  travellers;  and  we  villagers  are  sorry  for  him  and  see  to  it 
that  he  does  not  starve.  Perhaps  he  would  not  tell  you  his  name 
because  he  was  ashamed  of  what  he  has  become.  But  if  you  will 
come  with  me  I  will  shout  "Kagekiyo"  at  him.  He  will  surely 
answer  to  his  own  name.  Then  you  shall  go  to  him  and  talk  of  what 
you  will,  old  times  or  now.  Please  come  this  way. 

(They  go  towards  the  hut.) 
Hie,  Kagekiyo,  Kagekiyo!     Are  you  there,  Kagekiyo  the  Passionate? 

KAGEKIYO  (stopping  his  ears  with  his  hands,  irritably). 

Noise,  noise! 

Silence!  I  was  vexed  already.  For  a  while  ago  there  came 
travellers  from  my  home!  Do  you  think  I  let  them  stay?  No,  no. 
I  could  not  show  them  my  loathsomeness.  ...  It  was  hard  to  let 
thorn  go, — not  tell  them  my  name! 

A  thousand  rivers  of  tears  soften  my  sleeve! 

A  thousand,  thousand  things  I  do  in  dream 

\ncl  wake  to  idleness!     Oh  I  am  resolved 

To  be  in  the  world  as  one  who  is  not  in  the  world. 

Let  them  shout  "Kagekiyo,  Kagekiyo": 

Need  beggars  answer? 

Moreover,  in  this  land  I  have  a  name. 


94  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

CHORUS. 

"In  Hyuga  sunward-facing 

A  fit  name  found  I. 

Oh  call  me  not  by  the  name 

Of  old  days  that  have  dropped 

Like  the  bow  from  a  stricken  hand! 

For  I  whom  passion 

Had  left  for  ever 

At  the  sound  of  that  wrathful  name 

Am  angry,  angry." 

(While  the  CHORUS  speaks  his  thought  KAGEKIYO  mimes  their 
words,  waving  his  stick  and  finally  beating  it  against  his  thigh 
in  a  crescendo  of  rage.) 

KAGEKIYO  (suddenly  lowering  his  voice,  gently). 
But  while  I  dwell  here 

CHORUS. 

"But  while  I  dwell  here 

To  those  that  tend  me 

Should  I  grow  hateful 

Then  were  I  truly 

A  blind  man  staffless. 

Oh  forgive 

Profitless  anger,  tongue  untended, 

A  cripple's  spleen." 

KAGEKIYO. 

For  though  my  eyes  be  darkened 

CHORUS. 

"Though  my  eyes  be  darkened 

Yet,  no  word  spoken, 

Men's  thoughts  I  see. 

Listen  now  to  the  wind 

In  the  woods  upon  the  hill: 

Snow  is  coming,  snow! 

Oh  bitterness  to  wake 

From  dreams  of  flowers  unseen! 

And  on  the  shore, 

Listen,  the  waves  are  lapping 


KAGEKIYO  95 


Over  rough  stones  to  the  cliff. 
The  evening  tide  is  in. 

(KAGEKIYO  fumbles  for  his  staff  and  rises,  coming  just  outside 
the  hut.  The  mention  of  "waves"  "shore"  "tide"  has  re- 
minded him  of  the  great  shore-battle  at  Yashima  in  which 
the  Tairas  triumphed.) 

"I  was  one  of  them,  of  those  Tairas.     If  you  will  listen,  I  will  tell 
the  tale  .  .  ." 

iGEKIYO  (to  the  VILLAGER;. 

There  was  a  weight  on  my  mind  when  I  spoke  to  you  so  harshly. 

ray  forgive  me. 

[LLAGER. 

No,  no!  you  are  always  so!     I  do  not  heed  you.     But  tell  me,  did 
some  one  come  before,  asking  for  Kagekiyo? 

LGEKIYO. 

No, — you  are  the  only  one  who  has  asked. 

[LLAGER. 

It  is  not  true.  Some  one  came  here  saying  that  she  was  Kagekiyo's 
daughter.  Why  did  you  not  tell  her?  I  was  sorry  for  her  and  have 
brought  her  back  with  me. 

(To  the  GIRL.)     Come  now,  speak  with  your  father. 

GIRL  (going  to  KAGEKIYO'S  side  and  touching  his  sleeve). 
It  is  I  who  have  come  to  you. 
I  have  come  all  the  long  way, 
Through  rain,  wind,  frost  and  dew. 

And  now — you  have  not  understood;  it  was  all  for  nothing. 
Am  I  not  worth  your  love?     Oh  cruel,  cruel!      (She  weeps.) 

KAGEKIYO. 

All  that  till  now  I  thought  to  have  concealed 

Is  known;  where  can  I  hide, 

I  that  have  no  more  refuge  than  the  dew 

That  finds  no  leaf  to  lie  on? 

Should  you,  oh  flower  delicately  tended, 


96  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF  JAPAN 

Call  me  your  father,  then  would  the  World  know  you 
A  beggar's  daughter.     Oh  think  not  ill  of  me 
That  I  did  let  you  pass! 

(He  gropes  falteringly  with  his  right  hand  and  touches  her  sleeve.) 

CHORUS. 

Oh  sad,  sad! 

He  that  of  old  gave  welcome 

To  casual  strangers  and  would  raise  an  angry  voice 

If  any  passed  his  door, 

Now  from  his  own  child  gladly 

Would  hide  his  wretchedness. 

He  that  once 

Among  all  that  in  the  warships  of  Taira 

Shoulder  to  shoulder,  knee  locked  with  knee, 

Dwelt  crowded — 

Even  Kagekiyo  keen 

As  the  clear  moonlight — 

Was  ever  called  on  to  captain 

The  Royal  Pinnace. 

And  though  among  his  men 

Many  were  brave  and  many  of  wise  counsel, 

Yet  was  he  even  as  the  helm  of  the  boat. 

And  of  the  many  who  served  him 

None  cavilled,  disputed. 

But  now 

He  that  of  all  was  envied 

Is  like  Kirin  x  grown  old, 

By  every  jade  outrun. 

VILLAGER  (seeing  the  GIRL  standing  sadly  apart). 
Poor  child,  come  back  again. 

(She  comes  back  to  her  father's  side.) 
Listen,  Kagekiyo,  there  is  something  your  daughter  wants  of  you. 

KAGEKIYO. 

What  is  it  she  wants? 

*A  Chinese  Pegasus.     The  proverb  says,  "Even  Kirin,  when  he  was  old,  was 
outstripped  by  hacks."    Seami  quotes  this  proverb,  Works,  p.  9. 


KAGEKIYO  97 


VILLAGER. 

She  tells  me  that  she  longs  to  hear  the  story  of  your  high  deeds  at 
Yashima.  Could  you  not  tell  us  the  tale? 

KAGEKIYO. 

That  is  a  strange  thing  for  a  girl  to  ask.  Yet  since  kind  love  brought 
her  this  long,  long  way  to  visit  me,  I  cannot  but  tell  her  the  tale. 
Promise  me  that  when  it  is  finished  you  will  send  her  back  again  to 
her  home. 

VILLAGER. 

I  will.     So  soon  as  your  tale  is  finished,  I  will  send  her  home. 

KAGEKIYO. 

It  was  in  the  third  year  of  Juyei,1 

At  the  close  of  the  third  month. 

We  of  Heike  were  in  our  ships, 

The  men  of  Genji  on  shore. 

Two  armies  spread  along  the  coast 

Eager  to  bid  in  battle    . 

For  final  mastery. 

Then  said  Noritsune,  Lord  of  Noto, 

"Last  year  at  Muro  Hill  in  the  land  of  Harima, 

At  Water  Island,  even  at  Jackdaw  Pass, 

We  were  beaten  again  and  again ;  outwitted 

By  Yoshitsune's  strategy. 

Oh  that  some  plan  might  be  found,  some  counsel  given 

For  the  slaying  of  Kurd."  :     So  spoke  he. 

Then  thought  Kagekiyo  in  his  heart, 

'Though  he  be  called  'Judge,' 

Yet  is  he  no  god  or  demon,  this  Yoshitsune. 

An  easy  task!     Oh  easy  for  one  that  loves  not 

His  own  life  chiefly! 

So  he  took  leave  of  Noritsune 

And  landed  upon  the  beach. 

The  soldiers  of  Genji 

"Death  to  him,  death  to  him!"  cried 

As  they  swept  towards  him. 

1  "Lc  vieux  guerrier  avengle,  assis  devant  sa  cabane  d'exilc,  mime  ton  dernier 
combat  de  geatea  incertaina  et  tremblantt"  (Peri). 
'Yoahiuune. 


98  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

CHORUS. 

And  when  he  saw  them, 

"What  great  to-do!"  he  cried,  then  waving 

His  sword  in  the  evening  sunlight 

He  fell  upon  them  swiftly. 

They  fled  before  his  sword-point, 

They  could  not  withstand  him,  those  soldiers; 

This  way,  that  way,  they  scuttled  wildly,  and  he  cried, 

"They  shall  not  escape  me!" 

KAGEKIYO   (breaking  in  excitedly). 
Cowards,  cowards  all  of  you ! 

CHORUS. 

Cowards,  all  of  you! 

Sight  shameful  alike  for  Gen  and  Hei. 

Then,  thinking  that  to  stop  one  man 

Could  not  but  be  easy, 

Sword  under  arm, 

"I  am  Kagekiyo,"  he  cried, 

"Kagekiyo  the  Passionate,  a  captain  of  the  soldiers  of  Hei." 

And  swiftly  pursued,  with  naked  hand  to  grasp 

The  helm  that  Mionoya  wore. 

He  clutched  at  the  neck-piece, 

Twice  and  again  he  clutched,  but  it  slipped  from  him,  slid  through 

his  fingers. 

Then  crying  "He  shall  not  escape  me,  this  foe  I  have  chosen," 
Swooped  like  a  bird,  seized  upon  the  helmet, 
"Eya,  eya,"  he  cried,  tugging, 
Till  "Crack" — the  neck-piece  tore  from  the  helm  and  was  left  in  his 

hand, 

While  the  master  of  it,  suddenly  free,  ran  till  he  was  come 
A  good  way  off,  then  turning, 

"0  mighty  Kagekiyo,  how  terrible  the  strength  of  your  arm!" 
And  the  other  called  back  to  him,  "Nay,  say  rather  'How  strong  the 

shaft 

Of  Mionoya's  neck ! "      So  laughed  they  across  the  battle, 
And  went  off  each  his  way. 

(KAGEKIYO,  who  has  been  miming  the  battle,  breaks  off  abruptly 
and  turns  to  the  VILLAGER.  The  CHORUS  speaks  for 
him.) 


KAGEKIYO  99 


CHORUS. 

"I   am   old:     I   have  forgotten — things   unforgettable! 

My  thoughts  are  tangled:     I   am  ashamed. 

But  little  longer  shall  this  world, 

This  sorrowful   world  torment  me. 

The  end  is  near:     go  to  your  home; 

Pray  for  my  soul  departed,  child,  candle  to  my  darkness, 

Bridge  to  salvation! 

(He  rises  to  his  feet  groping  with  his  stick,  comes  to  the  GIRL, 
and  gently  pushes  her  before  him  towards  the  wing.) 

"I  stay,"  he  said;  and  she  "I  go." 
The  sound  of  this  word 
Was  all  he  kept  of  her, 
Nor  passed  between  them 
Remembrance  other. 


HACHI    NO    KI 
By    SEAM  I 

PERSONS 

THE  PRIEST  (Lord  Tokiyori  disguised). 

TSUNEYO  GENZAYEMON  (a  former  retainer  of  Tokiyori). 

GENZAYEMON'S  WIFE. 

TOKIYORI'S  MINISTER,  and  followers. 

CHORUS. 

PRIEST. 

No  whence  nor  whither  know  I,  only  onward, 

Onward  my  way. 

I  am  a  holy  man  of  no  fixed  abode.  I  have  been  travelling  through 
the  land  of  Shinano;  but  the  snow  lies  thick.  I  had  best  go  up  to 
Kamakura  now  and  wait  there.  When  Spring  comes  I  will  set  out 
upon  my  pilgrimage. 

(He  walks  round  the  stage  singing  his  song  of  travel.) 

Land  of  Shinano,  Peak  of  Asama, 

Thy  red  smoke  rising  far  and  near!     Yet  cold 

Blows  the  great  wind  whose  breath 

From  Greatwell  Hill  is  fetched. 

On  to  the  Village  of  Friends — but  friendless  I, 

Whose  self  is  cast  aside,  go  up  the  path 

Of  Parting  Hill,  that  from  the  temporal  world 

Yet  further  parts  me.     Down  the  river,  down 

Runs  my  swift  raft  plank-nosed  to  Plank-nose  Inn, 

And  to  the  Ford  of  Sano  I  am  come. 

I  have  travelled  so  fast  that  I  am  come  to  the  Ford  of  Sano  in  the 
country  of  Kozuke.  Ara!  It  is  snowing  again.  I  must  seek  shelter 
here.  (Goes  to  the  wing  and  knocks.)  Is  there  anyone  in  this  house? 

TSUNEYO'S  WIFE  (raising  the  curtain  that  divides  the  hashigakari 
from  the  stage). 

Who  is  there? 

100 


HACHI   NO   KI  101 


PRIEST. 

I  am  a  pilgrim;  pray  lodge  me  here  to-night. 

WIFE. 

That  is  a  small  thing  to  ask.  But  since  the  master  is  away,  you 
cannot  lodge  in  this  house. 

PRIEST. 

Then  I  will  wait  here  till  he  comes  back. 

WIFE. 

That  must  be  as  you  please.  I  will  go  to  the  corner  and  watch 
for  him.  When  he  comes  I  will  tell  him  you  are  here. 

(Enter  TSUNEYO  from  the  wing,   making  the  gesture  of  one  who 
shakes  snow  from  his  clothes.) 

TSUNEYO. 

Ah!  How  the  snow  falls!  Long  ago  when  I  was  in  the  World1 
I  loved  to  see  it: 

"Hither  and  thither  the  snow  blew  like  feathers  plucked  from  a 
goose; 

Long,  long  I  watched  it  fall,  till  it  dressed  me  in  a  white  coat." 
So  I  sang;  and  the  snow  that  falls  now  is  the  same  that  I  saw  then. 
But  I  indeed  am  frost- white2  that  watch  it! 

Oh  how  shall  this  thin  dress  of  Kefu-cloth  * 

Chase  from  my  bones  the  winter  of  to-day, 

Oh  pitiless  day  of  snow! 

(He  sees  his  WIFE  standing  waiting.) 

What  is  this!     How  comes  it  that  you  are  waiting  here  in  this  great 
storm  of  snow? 

WIFE. 

A  pilgrim  came  this  way  and  begged  for  a  night's  lodging.  And 
when  I  told  him  you  were  not  in  the  house,  he  asked  if  he  might  wait 
till  you  returned.  That  is  why  I  am  here. 

i  Po  Chii-i's  Work*,  iii.  13. 

1  Alluding  partly  to  the  fact  that  he  is  snow-covered,  partly  to  his  grey  hairt. 

•  Kcfu,  "to-day." 


102  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF  JAPAN 

TSUNEYO. 

Where  is  this  pilgrim  now? 

WIFE. 

There  he  stands! 

PRIEST. 

I  am  he.  Though  the  day  is  not  far  spent,  how  can  I  find  my  way 
in  this  great  storm  of  snow?  Pray  give  me  shelter  for  the  night. 

TSUNEYO. 

That  is  a  small  thing  to  ask;  but  I  have  no  lodging  fit  for  you;  I 
cannot  receive  you. 

PRIEST. 

No,  no.  I  do  not  care  how  poor  the  lodging  may  be.  Pray  let 
me  stay  here  for  one  night. 

TSUNEYO. 

I  would  gladly  ask  you  to  stay,  but  there  is  scarce  space  for  us  two, 
that  are  husband  and  wife.  How  can  we  give  you  lodging?  At  the 
village  of  Yamamoto  yonder,  ten  furlongs  further,  you  will  find  a 
good  inn.  You  had  best  be  on  your  way  before  the  daylight  goes. 

PRIEST. 

So  you  are  resolved  to  turn  me  away? 

TSUNEYO. 

I  am  sorry  for  it,  but  I  cannot  give  you  lodging. 

PRIEST  (turning  away). 

Much  good  I  got  by  waiting  for  such  a  fellow!  I  will  go  my  way. 
(He  goes.) 

WIFE. 

Alas,  it  is  because  in  a  former  life  we  neglected  the  ordinances  a 
that  we  are  now  come  to  ruin.  And  surely  it  will  bring  us  ill-fortune 
in  our  next  life,  if  we  give  no  welcome  to  such  a  one  as  this!  If  it 
is  by  any  means  possible  for  him  to  shelter  here,  please  let  him  stay. 

1  Buddhist  ordinances,  such  as  hospitality  to  priests. 


HACHI   NO   KI  103 


TSUNEYO. 

If  you  are  of  that  mind,  why  did  you  not  speak  before?  (Looking 
after  the  PRIEST.)  No,  he  cannot  have  gone  far  in  this  great  snow- 
storm. I  will  go  after  him  and  stop  him.  Hie,  traveller,  hie!  We 
will  give  you  lodging.  Hie!  The  snow  is  falling  so  thick  that  he 
cannot  hear  me.  What  a  sad  plight  he  is  in.  Old-fallen  snow  covers 
the  way  he  came  and  snow  new-fallen  hides  the  path  where  he  should 
go.  Look,  look!  He  is  standing  still.  He  is  shaking  the  snow  from 
his  clothes;  shaking,  shaking.  It  is  like  that  old  song: 

"At  Sano  Ferry 
No  shelter  found  we 
To  rest  our  horses, 
Shake  our  jackets, 
In  the  snowy  twilight." 

That  song  was  made  at  Sano  Ferry, 

At  the  headland  of  Miwa  on  the  Yamato  Way. 

CHORUS. 

But  now  at  Sano  on  the  Eastern  Way 

Would  you  wander  weary  in  the  snow  of  twilight? 

Though  mean  the  lodging, 

Rest  with  us,  oh  rest  till  day! 

(The  PRIEST  goes  with  them  into  the  hut.) 

TSUNEYO  (to  his  WIFE). 

Listen.  We  have  given  him  lodging,  but  have  not  laid  the  least 
thing  before  him.  Is  there  nothing  we  can  give? 

WIFE. 

It  happens  that  we  have  a  little  boiled  millet;  *  we  can  give  him 
that  if  he  will  take  it. 

TSUNEYO. 

I  will  tell  him.  (To  the  PRIEST.)  I  have  given  you  lodging, 
1m  I  I  have  not  yet  laid  anything  before  you.  It  happens  that  we  have 
a  little  boiled  millet.  It  is  coarse  food,  but  pray  eat  it  if  you  can. 

PRIEST. 

Why,  that's  a  famous  dish!     Please  give  it  me. 
1  Food  of  the  poorest  peasants. 


104  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF  JAPAN 

TSUNEYO  (to  WIFE). 

He  says  he  will  take  some;  make  haste  and  give  it  to  him. 

WIFE. 

I  will  do  so. 

TSUNEYO. 

Long  ago  when  I  was  in  the  World  I  knew  nothing  of  this  stuff 

called  millet  but  what  I  read  of  it  in  poems  and  songs.     But  now  it 

is  the  prop  of  my  life. 

Truly  Rosei's  dream  of  fifty  years'  glory 
That  he  dreamed  at  Kantan  on  lent  pillow  propped 
Was  dreamed  while  millet  cooked,  as  yonder  dish  now. 
Oh  if  I  might  but  sleep  as  he  slept,  and  see  in  my  dream 
Times  that  have  passed  away,  then  should  I  have  comfort; 
But  now  through  battered  walls 

CHORUS. 

Cold  wind  from  the  woods 

Blows  sleep  away  and  the  dreams  of  recollection. 

(While  the  CHORUS  sings  these  words  an  ATTENDANT  brings 
on  to  the  stage  the  three  dwarf  trees.) 

TSUNEYO. 

How  cold  it  is!  And  as  the  night  passes,  each  hour  the  frost  grows 
keener.  If  I  had  but  fuel  to  light  a  fire  with,  that  you  might  sit  by  it 
and  warm  yourself!  Ah!  I  have  thought  of  something.  I  have 
some  dwarf  trees.  I  will  cut  them  down  and  make  a  fire  of  them. 

PRIEST. 

Have  you  indeed  dwarf  trees? 

TSUNEYO. 

Yes,  when  I  was  in  the  World  I  had  a  fine  show  of  them;  but  when 
my  trouble  came  I  had  no  more  heart  for  tree-fancying,  and  gave  them 
away.  But  three  of  them,  I  kept, — plum,  cherry  and  pine.  Look, 
there  they  are,  covered  with  snow.  They  are  precious  to  me;  yet  for 
this  night's  entertainment  I  will  gladly  set  light  to  them. 

PRIEST. 

No,  no,  that  must  not  be.     I  thank  you  for  your  kindness,  but  it 


HACHI   NO   KI  105 


is  likely  that  one  day  you  will  go  back  to  the  World  again  and  need 
them  for  your  pleasure.     Indeed  it  is  not  to  be  thought  of. 

TSUNEYO. 

My  life  is  like  a  tree  the  earth  has  covered; 
I  shoot  no  blossoms  upward  to  the  world. 

WIFE. 

And  should  we  burn  for  you 
These  shrubs,  these  profitless  toys, 

TSUNEYO. 

Think  them  the  faggots  of  our  Master's  servitude.1 

WIFE. 

For  snow  falls  now  upon  them,  as  it  fell 

TSUNEYO. 

When  he  to  hermits  of  the  cold 
Himalayan  Hills  was  carrier  of  wood. 

WIFE. 

So  let  it  be. 

CHORUS. 

"Shall  I  from  one  who  has  cast  life  aside, 
Dear  life  itself,  withold  these  trivial  trees?" 

(TSUNEYO  goes  and  stands  by  the  dwarf  trees.) 
Then  he  brushed  the  snow  from  off  them,  and  when  he  looked, 
"I  cannot,  cannot,"  he  cried,  "0  beautiful  trees, 
Must  I  begin? 

You,  plum-tree,  among  bare  boughs  blossoming 
Hard  by  the  window,  still  on  northward  face 
Snow-sealed,  yet  first  to  scent 
Cold  air  with  flowers,  earliest  of  Spring; 
'You  first  shall  fall.' 

You  by  whose  boughs  on  mountain  hedge  entwined 
Dull  country  folk  have  paused  and  caught  their  breath,1 

1  After  Shakyamuni  left  the  palace,  he  served  the  Rishi  of  the  mountains. 
*  Using  words  from  a  poem  by  Michizane  (845-903  A.  D.) . 


106  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF  JAPAN 

Hewn  down  for  firewood.     Little  had  I  thought 
My  hand  so  pitiless!" 

(He  cuts  down  the  plum-tree.) 

"You,  cherry  (for  each  Spring  your  blossom  comes 
Behind  the  rest),  I  thought  a  lonely  tree 
And  reared  you  tenderly,  but  now 
/,  /  am  lonely  left,  and  you,  cut  down, 
Shall  flower  but  with  flame." 

TSUNEYO. 

You  now,  0  pine,  whose  branches  I  had  thought 

One  day  when  you  were  old  to  lop  and  trim, 

Standing  you  in  the  field,  a  football-post,1 

Such  use  shall  never  know. 

Tree,  whom  the  winds  have  ever  wreathed 

With  quaking  mists,  now  shimmering  in  the  flame 

Shall  burn  and  burn. 

Now  like  a  beacon,  sentinels  at  night 

Kindle  by  palace  gate  to  guard  a  king, 

Your  fire  burns  brightly. 

Come,  warm  yourself. 

PRIEST. 

Now  we  have  a  good  fire  and  can  forget  the  cold. 

TSUNEYO. 

It  is  because  you  lodged  with  us  that  we  too  have  a  fire  to  sit  by. 

PRIEST. 

There  is  something  I  must  ask  you:     I  would  gladly  know  to  what 
clan  my  host  belongs. 

TSUNEYO. 

I  am  not  of  such  birth;  I  have  no  clan-name. 

PRIEST. 

Say  what  you  will,  I  cannot  think  you  a  commoner.     The  times 
may  change;  what  harm  will  you  get  by  telling  me  your  clan? 

1For  Japanese  football,  see  p.  246.    A  different  interpretation  has  lately  been 
suggested  by  Mr.  Suzuki. 


HACHI   NO   KI  107 


TSUNEYO. 

Indeed  I  have  no  reason  to  conceal  it  Know  then  that  Tsuneyo 
Genzayemon,  Lord  of  Sano,  is  sunk  to  this! 

PRIEST. 

How  came  it,  sir,  that  you  fell  to  such  misery? 

TSUNEYO. 

Thus  it  was:  kinsmen  usurped  my  lands,  and  so  I  became  what 
I  am. 

PRIEST. 

Why  do  you  not  go  up  to  the  Capital  and  lay  your  case  before  the 
Shikken's  court? 

TSUNEYO. 

By  further  mischance  it  happens  that  Lord  Saimyoji l  himself 
is  absent  upon  pilgrimage.  And  yet  not  all  is  lost;  for  on  the  wall 
a  tall  spear  still  hangs,  and  armour  with  it;  while  in  the  stall  a 
steed  is  tied.  And  if  at  any  time  there  came  from  the  City  news  of 
peril  to  our  master — 

Then,  broken  though  it  be  I  would  gird  this  armour  on, 

And  rusty  though  it  be  I  would  hold  this  tall  spear, 

And  lean-ribbed  though  he  be  I  would  mount  my  horse  and  ride 

Neck  by  neck  with  the  swiftest, 

To  write  my  name  on  the  roll. 

And  when  the  fight  began 

Though  the  foe  were  many,  yet  would  I  be  the  first 

To  cleave  their  ranks,  to  choose  an  adversary 

To  fight  with  him  and  die. 

(He  covers  his  face  with  his  hands;  his  voice  sinks  again.) 

But  now,  another  fate,  worn  out  with  hunger 
To  die  useless.     Oh  despair,  despair! 

PRIEST. 

Take  courage;  you  shall  not  end  so.  If  I  live,  I  will  come  to  you 
again.  Now  I  go. 

TSUNEYO  and  WIFE. 

We  cannot  let  you  go.     At  first  we  were  ashamed  that  you  should 

1 1.  e.  Tokiyori. 


108  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

see  the  misery  of  our  dwelling;  but  now  we  ask  you  to  stay  with 
us  awhile. 

PRIEST. 

Were  I  to  follow  my  desire,  think  you  I  would  soon  go  forth  into 
the  snow? 

TSUNEYO  and  WIFE. 

After  a  day  of  snow  even  the  clear  sky  is  cold,  and  to-night — 

PRIEST. 

Where  shall  I  lodge? 

WIFE. 

Stay  with  us  this  one  day. 

PRIEST. 

Though  my  longing  bides  with  you — 

TSUNEYO  and  WIFE. 
You  leave  us? 

PRIEST. 

Farewell,  Tsuneyo! 

BOTH. 

Come  back  to  us  again. 

CHORUS  (speaking  for  PRIEST). 

"And  should  you  one  day  come  up  to  the  City,  seek  for  me  there. 
A  humble  priest  can  give  you  no  public  furtherance,  yet  can  he  find 
ways  to  bring  you  into  the  presence  of  Authority.  Do  not  give  up 
your  suit."  He  said  no  more.  He  went  his  way, — he  sad  to  leave 
them  and  they  to  lose  him  from  their  sight. 


(Interval  of  Six  Months.) 

TSUNEYO  (standing  outside  his  hut  and  seeming  to  watch  travellers 

on  the  road). 
Hie,  you  travellers!     Is  it  true  that  the  levies   are  marching  to 


HACHI   NO   KI  109 


Kamakura?  They  are  marching  in  great  force,  you  say?  So  it  is 
true.  Barons  and  knights  from  the  Eight  Counties  of  the  East  all 
riding  to  Kamakura!  A  fine  sight  it  will  be.  Tasselled  breastplates 
of  beaten  silver;  swords  and  daggers  fretted  with  gold.  On  horses 
fat  with  fodder  they  ride;  even  the  grooms  of  the  relay-horses  are 
magnificently  apparelled.  And  along  with  them  (miming  the  action 
of  leading  a  horse)  goes  Tsuneyo,  with  horse,  armour  and  sword  that 
scarce  seem  worthy  of  such  names.  They  may  laugh,  yet  I  am  not, 
I  think,  a  worse  man  than  they;  and  had  I  but  a  steed  to  match  my 
heart,  then  valiantly — (making  the  gesture  of  cracking  a  whip)  you 
ird! 

CHORUS. 

The  horse  is  old,  palsied  as  a  willow-bough;  it  cannot  hasten.  It 
is  lean  and  twisted.  Not  whip  or  spur  can  move  it.  It  sticks  like 
a  coach  in  a  bog.  He  follows  far  behind  the  rest. 

PRIEST  (again  ruler  *  of  Japan,  seated  on  a  throne). 
Are  you  there? 

ATTENDANT. 

I  stand  before  you. 

PRIEST. 

Have  the  levies  of  all  the  lands  arrived? 

ATTENDANT. 

They  are  all  come. 

PRIEST. 

Among  thorn  should  be  a  knight  in  broken  armour,  carrying  a 
rusty  sword,  and  leading  his  own  lean  horse.  Find  him,  and  bring 
him  to  me. 

ATTENDANT. 

I  tremble  and  obey.  (Going  to  TSUNEYO.)  I  must  speak  with 
you. 

1  Hojo  no  Tokiyori  ruled  at  Kamakura  from  1246  till  1256.    He  then  became 
n  and  travelled  through  the  country  incognito  in  order  to  acquaint  himself 
with  the  needs  of  his  subject*. 


110  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

TSUNEYO. 
What  is  it? 

ATTENDANT. 

You  are  to  appear  immediately  before  my  lord. 

TSUNEYO. 

Is  it  I  whom  you  are  bidding  appear  before  his  lordship? 

ATTENDANT. 
Yes,  you  indeed. 

TSUNEYO. 

How  can  it  be  I?     You  have  mistaken  me  for  some  other. 

ATTENDANT. 

Oh  no,  it  is  you.  I  was  told  to  fetch  the  most  ill-conditioned  of 
all  the  soldiers;  and  I  am  sure  you  are  he.  Come  at  once. 

TSUNEYO. 

The  most  ill-conditioned  of  all  the  soldiers? 

ATTENDANT. 
Yes,  truly. 

TSUNEYO. 

Then  I  am  surely  he. 
Tell  your  lord  that  I  obey. 

ATTENDANT. 
I  will  do  so. 

TSUNEYO. 

I  understand;  too  well  I  understand.  Some  enemy  of  mine  has 
called  me  traitor,  and  it  is  to  execution  that  I  am  summoned  before 
the  Throne.  Well,  there  is  no  help  for  it.  Bring  me  into  the 
Presence. 

CHORUS. 

He  was  led  to  where  on  a  great  dais 

All  the  warriers  of  this  levy  were  assembled 


HACHI   NO   KI  111 


Like  a  bright  bevy  of  stars. 

Row  on  row  they  were  ranged, 

Samurai  and  soldiers; 

Swift  scornful  glances,  fingers  pointed 

And  the  noise  of  laughter  met  his  entering. 

TSUNEYO. 

Stuck  through  his  tattered,  his  old  side-sewn  sash, 
His  rusty  sword  sags  and  trails, — yet  he  undaunted, 
"My  Lord,  I  have  come." 

(He  bows  before  the  Throne.) 

PRIEST. 

Ha !     He  has  come,  Tsuneyo  of  Sano ! 

Have  you  forgotten  the  priest  whom  once  you  sheltered  from  the  snow- 
storm? You  have  been  true  to  the  words  that  you  spoke  that  night  at 
Sano: 

"If  at  any  time  there  came  news  from  the  City  of  peril  to  our  master 
Then  broken  though  it  be,  I  would  gird  this  armour  on, 
And  rusty  though  it  be,  I  would  hold  this  tall  spear, 
And  bony  though  he  be,  I  would  mount  my  horse  and  ride 
Neck  by  neck  with  the  swiftest." 

These  were  not  vain  words;  you  have  come  valiantly.  But  know  that 
thi>  levy  of  men  was  made  to  this  purpose:  to  test  the  issue  of  your 
words  whether  they  were  spoken  false  or  true;  and  to  hear  the  suits  of 
all  those  that  have  obeyed  my  summons,  that  if  any  among  them  have 
suffered  injury,  his  wrongs  may  be  righted. 

And  first  in  the  case  of  Tsuneyo,  I  make  judgment.     To  him  shall  be 
returned  his  lawful  estate,  thirty  parishes  in  the  land  of  Sano. 

But  above  all  else  one  thing  shall  never  be  forgotten,  that  in  the 

great  snowstorm  he  cut  down  his  trees,  his  treasure,  and  burnt  them  for 

ood.     And  now  in  gratitude  for  the  three  trees  of  that  time, — plum, 

•  •lirrry  and  pine, — we  grant  to  him  three  fiefs,  Plumfield  in  Kaga, 

<!li« -nywcll  in  Etchu  and  Pine-branch  in  Kozuke. 

!!'•  shall  hold  them  as  a  perpetual  inheritance  for  himself  and  for  his 

:   in  testimony  whereof  we  give  this  title-deed,  by  our  own  hand 

signed  and  sealed,  together  with  the  safe  possession  of  his  former  lands. 

TSUNEYO. 

Then  Tsuneyo  took  the  deeds. 


112  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

CHORUS. 

He  took  the  deeds,  thrice  bowing  his  head. 

(Speaking  for  TSUNEYO.) 

"Look,  all  you  barons!      (TSUNEYO  holds  up  the  documents.) 

Look  upon  this  sight 

And  scorn  to  envy  turn!" 

Then  the  levies  of  all  the  lands 

Took  leave  of  their  Lord 

And  went  their  homeward  way. 

TSUNEYO. 

And  among  them  Tsuneyo 

CHORUS. 

Among  them  Tsuneyo, 

Joy  breaking  on  his  brow, 

Rides  now  on  splendid  steed 

To  the  Boat-bridge  of  Sano,  to  his  lands  once  torn 

Pitiless  from  him  as  the  torrent  tears 

That  Bridge  of  Boats  at  Sano  now  his  own. 


NOTE  ON  KOMACHI. 

THE  legend  of  Komachi  is  that  she  had  many  lovers  when  she  was 
young,  but  was  cruel  and  mocked  at  their  pain.  Among  them  was  one, 
Shii  no  Shosho,  who  came  a  long  way  to  court  her.  She  told  him  that 
she  would  not  listen  to  him  till  he  had  come  on  a  hundred  nights  from 
his  house  to  hers  and  cut  a  hundred  notches  on  the  shaft-bench  of  his 
chariot.  And  so  he  came  a  hundred  nights  all  but  one,  through  rain, 
hail,  snow,  and  wind.  But  on  the  last  night  he  died. 

Once,  when  she  was  growing  old,  the  poet  Yasuhide  asked  her  to  go 
with  him  to  Mikawa.  She  answered  with  the  poem: 

"I  that  am  lonely, 
Like  a  reed  root-cut, 
Should  a  stream  entice  me, 
Would  go,  I  think." 

When  she  grew  quite  old,  both  her  friends  and  her  wits  forsook  her. 
She  wandered  about  in  destitution,  a  tattered,  crazy  beggar-woman. 

As  is  shown  in  this  play,  her  madness  was  a  "possession"  by  the 
spirit  of  the  lover  whom  she  had  tormented.  She  was  released  from 
this  "possession"  by  the  virtue  of  a  sacred  Stupa  *  or  log  carved  into 
five  parts,  symbolic  of  the  Five  Elements,  on  which  she  sat  down  to  rest. 

In  the  disputation  between  Komachi  and  the  priests,  she  upholds  the 
ines  of  the  Zen  Sect,  which  uses  neither  scriptures  nor  idols;  the 
priests  defend  the  doctrines  of  the  Shingon  Sect,  which  promises  sal- 
vation by  the  use  of  incantations  and  the  worship  of  holy  images.2 

There  is  no  doubt  about  the  authorship  of  this  play.  Seami  (Works, 
p.  246)  gives  it  as  the  work  of  his  father,  Kwanami  Kiyotsugu. 
Kwanami  wrote  another  play,  Shii  no  Shosho?  in  which  Shosho  is  the 
principal  character  and  Komachi  the  tsure  or  subordinate. 

Seami  also  used  the  Komachi  legend.  In  his  Sekidera  Komachi  he 
N-1U  how  when  she  was  very  old  the  priests  of  Sekidera  invited  her  to 
«•  at  the  festival  of  Tanabata.  She  dances,  and  in  rehearsing  the 
splendours  of  her  youth  for  a  moment  becomes  young  again. 

1  Sanskrit;  Jap.  sotoba. 
•Seep.  32. 

*  Now  generally  called  Kayoi  Komachi. 

113 


SOTOBA   KOMACHI 
By  KWANAMI 

PERSONS 

A  PRIEST  OF  THE  KOYASAN.  SECOND  PRIEST. 

ONO  NO  KOMACHI.  CHORUS. 

PRIEST. 

We  who  on  shallow  hills  *  have  built  our  home 
In  the  heart's  deep  recess  seek  solitude. 

(Turning  to  the  audience.) 

I  am  a  priest  of  the  Koyasan.     I  am  minded  to  go  up  to  the  Capital 
to  visit  the  shrines  and  sanctuaries  there. 

The  Buddha  of  the  Past  is  gone, 

And  he  that  shall  be  Buddha  has  not  yet  come  into  the  world. 

SECOND  PRIEST. 

In  a  dream-lull  our  lives  are  passed;  all,  all 

That  round  us  lies 

Is  visionary,  void. 

Yet  got  we  by  rare  fortune  at  our  birth 

Man's  shape,  that  is  hard  to  get; 

And  dearer  gift  was  given  us,  harder  to  win, 

The  doctrine  of  Buddha,  seed  of  our  Salvation. 

And  me  this  only  thought  possessed, 

How  I  might  bring  that  seed  to  blossom,  till  at  last 

I  drew  this  sombre  cassock  across  my  back. 

And  knowing  now  the  lives  before  my  birth, 

No  love  I  owe 

To  those  that  to  this  life  engendered  me, 

Nor  seek  a  care  (have  I  not  disavowed 

Such  hollow  bonds?)  from  child  by  me  begot. 

A  thousand  leagues 

Is  little  road 

1The  Koyasan  is  not  so  remote  as  most  mountain  temples. 

114 


SOTOBA   KOMACHI  115 

To  the  pilgrim's  feet. 
The  fields  his  bed, 
The  hills  his  home 
Till  the  travel's  close. 

PRIEST. 

We  have  come  so  fast  that  we  have  reached  the  pine-woods  of  Abeno, 
in  the  country  of  Tsu.     Let  us  rest  in  this  place. 

(They  sit  down  by  the  Waki's  pillar.) 

KOMACHI. 

Like  a  root-cut  reed,1 

Should  the  tide  entice, 

I  would  come,  I  think;  but  now 

No  wave  asks;  no  stream  stirs. 

Long  ago  I  was  full  of  pride; 

Crowned  with  nodding  tresses,  halcyon  locks, 

I  walked  like  a  young  willow  delicately  wafted 

By  the  winds  of  Spring. 

I  spoke  with  the  voice  of  a  nightingale  that  has  sipped  the  dew. 

I  was  lovelier  than  the  petals  of  the  wild-rose  open-stretched 

In  the  hour  before  its  fall. 

But  now  I  am  grown  loathsome  even  to  sluts, 

Poor  girls  of  the  people,  and  they  and  all  men 

Turn  scornful  from  me. 

Unhappy  months  and  days  pile  up  their  score; 

I  am  old;  old  by  a  hundred  years. 

In  the  City  I  fear  men's  eyes, 

And  at  dusk,  lest  they  should  cry  "Is  it  she?" 

Westward  with  the  moon  I  creep 

From  the  cloud-high  City  of  the  Hundred  Towers. 

No  guard  will  question,  none  challenge 

i  m  so  wretched :     yet  must  I  be  walking 
Hid  ever  in  shadow  of  the  trees. 
Past  the  Lovers'  Tomb, 
And  the  Hill  of  Autumn 
To  the  River  of  Katsura,  the  boats,  the  moonlight. 

(She  shrinks  back  and  covers  her  face,  frightened  of  being  known.) 
»See  p.  113. 


116  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF  JAPAN 

Who  are  those  rowing  in  the  boats?  l 

Oh,  I  am  weary.     I  will  sit  on  this  tree-stump  and  rest  awhile. 

PRIEST. 

Come!  The  sun  is  sinking;  we  must  hasten  on  our  way.  Look, 
look  at  that  beggar  there!  It  is  a  holy  Stupa  that  she  is  sitting  on! 
I  must  tell  her  to  come  off  it. 

Now  then,  what  is  that  you  are  sitting  on?  Is  it  not  a  holy  Stupa, 
the  worshipful  Body  of  Buddha?  Come  off  it  and  rest  in  some  other 
place. 

KOMACHI. 

Buddha's  worshipful  body,  you  say?  But  I  could  see  no  writing  on 
it,  nor  any  figure  carved.  I  thought  it  was  only  a  tree-stump. 

PRIEST. 

Even  the  little  black  tree  on  the  hillside 

When  it  has  put  its  blossoms  on 

Cannot  be  hid; 

And  think  you  that  this  tree 

Cut  fivefold  in  the  fashion  of  Buddha's  holy  form 

Shall  not  make  manifest  its  power? 

KOMACHI. 

I  too  am  a  poor  withered  bough. 
But  there  are  flowers  at  my  heart,2 
Good  enough,  maybe,  for  an  offering. 
But  why  is  this  called  Buddha's  body? 

PRIEST. 

Hear  then!  This  Stupa  is  the  Body  of  the  Diamond  Lord.3  It  is 
the  symbol  of  his  incarnation. 

KOMACHL 

And  in  what  elements  did  he  choose  to  manifest  his  body? 

1  Seami,  writing  c.   1430,  says:     "Komachi  was  once  a  long   play.    After  the 
words  'Who  are  those,'  £tc.,  there  used  to  be  a  long  lyric  passage"   (Works,  p. 
240). 

2  "Heart  flowers,"  kokoro  no  hana,  is  a  synonym  for  "poetry." 

8  Vajrasattva,  himself  an  emanation  of  Vairochana,  the  principal  Buddha  of 
the  Shingon  Sect. 


SOTOBA  KOMACHI  117 

PRIEST. 


Earth,  water,  wind,  fire  and  space. 

KOMACHI. 

Of  these  five  man  also  is  compounded.     Where  then  is  the  difference? 

PRIEST. 

The  forms  are  the  same,  but  not  the  virtue. 

KOMACHI. 

And  what  is  the  virtue  of  the  Stupa? 

PRIEST. 

"He  that  has  looked  once  upon  the  Stupa,  shall  escape  forever  from 
the  Three  Paths  of  Evil."  * 

KOMACHI. 

"One  thought  can  sow  salvation  in  the  heart."  :     Is  that  of  less  price? 

SECOND  PRIEST. 

If  your  heart  has  seen  salvation,  how  comes  it  that  you  linger  in  the 
World? 

KOMACHI. 

It  is  my  body  that  lingers,  for  my  heart  left  it  long  ago. 

PRIEST. 

You  have  no  heart  at  all,  or  you  would  have  known  the  Body  of 
iddha. 

LOMACHI. 
It  was  because  I  knew  it  that  I  came  to  see  it! 

:OND  PRIEST. 

And  knowing  what  you  know,  you  sprawled  upon  it  without  a  word 
of  prayer? 

KOMACHI. 

It  was  on  the  ground  already.     What  harm  could  it  get  by  my  rest- 
ing on  it? 

1  From  the  Nirvana  Sutra.  *  From  the  Avatamsaka  Sutra. 


118  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

PRIEST. 

It  was  an  act  of  discord.1 

KOMACHI. 

Sometimes  from  discord  salvation  springs. 

SECOND  PRIEST. 

From  the  malice  of  Daiba  .  .  .2 

KOMACHI. 

As  from  the  mercy  of  Kwannon.3 

PRIEST. 

From  the  folly  of  Handoku  .  .  .* 

KOMACHI. 

As  from  the  wisdom  of  Monju.5 

SECOND  PRIEST. 

That  which  is  called  Evil 

KOMACHI. 
Is  Good. 

PRIEST. 

That  which  is  called  Illusion 

KOMACHI. 
Is  Salvation.6 

SECOND  PRIEST. 
For  Salvation 

1  Lit.  "discordant  karma." 

2  A   wicked    disciple    who    in   the    end    attained   to    Illumination.    Also   called 
Datta;  cp.  Kumasaka,  p.  63. 

3  The  Goddess  of  Mercy. 

*  A  disciple  so  witless  that  he  could  not  recite  a  single  verse  of  Scripture. 

8  God  of  Wisdom. 

6  From  the  Nirvana  Sutra. 


SOTOBAKOMACHI  119 

KOMACHI. 

Cannot  be  planted  like  a  tree. 

PRIEST. 

And  the  Heart's  Mirror 

KOMACHI. 

Hangs  in  the  void. 

CHORUS  (speaking  for  KOMACHI). 
"Nothing  is  real. 
Between  Buddha  and  Man 

Is  no  distinction,  but  a  seeming  of  difference  planned 
For  the  welfare  of  the  humble,  the  ill-instructed, 
Whom  he  has  vowed  to  save. 
Sin  itself  may  be  the  ladder  of  salvation." 
So  she  spoke,  eagerly;  and  the  priests, 
"A  saint,  a  saint  is  this  decrepit,  outcast  soul." 
And  bending  their  heads  to  the  ground, 
Three  times  did  homage  before  her. 

KOMACHI. 

I  now  emboldened 

Recite  a  riddle,  a  jesting  song. 

"Were  I  in  Heaven 

The  Stupa  were  an  ill  seat; 

But  here,  in  the  world  without, 

What  harm  is  done?"1 

CHORUS. 

The  priests  would  have  rebuked  her; 
But  they  have  found  their  match. 

PRIEST. 

Who  are  you?     Pray  tell  us  the  name  you  had,  and  we  will  pray 
for  you  when  you  are  dead. 

KOMACHI. 

Shame  covers  me  when  I  speak  my  name;  but  if  you  will  pray  for 

1  The    riddle    depends    on    a    pun    between    sotoba    and    soto    wo,    "without 
"outside/' 


120  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

me,  I  will  try  to  tell  you.  This  is  my  name;  write  it  down  in  your 
prayer-list :  I  am  the  ruins  of  Komachi,  daughter  of  Ono  no  Yoshizane, 
Governor  of  the  land  of  Dewa. 

PRIESTS. 

Oh  piteous,  piteous!     Is  this 

Komachi  that  once 

Was  a  bright  flower, 

Komachi  the  beautiful,  whose  dark  brows 

Linked  like  young  moons ; 

Her  face  white-f arded  ever ; 

Whose  many,  many  damask  robes 

Filled  cedar-scented  halls? 

KOMACHI. 

I  made  verses  in  our  speech 

And  in  the  speech  of  the  foreign  Court. 

CHORUS. 

The  cup  she  held  at  the  feast 

Like  gentle  moonlight  dropped  its  glint  on  her  sleeve. 

Oh  how  fell  she  from  splendour, 

How  came  the  white  of  winter 

To  crown  her  head? 

Where  are  gone  the  lovely  locks,  double-twined, 

The  coils  of  jet? 

Lank  wisps,  scant  curls  wither  now 

On  wilted  flesh; 

And  twin-arches,  moth-brows  tinge  no  more 

With  the  hue  of  far  hills.     "Oh  cover,  cover 

From  the  creeping  light  of  dawn 

Silted  seaweed  locks  that  of  a  hundred  years 

Lack  now  but  one. 

Oh  hide  me  from  my  shame." 

(KOMACHI  hides  her  face.) 

CHORUS  (speaking  for  the  PRIEST). 

What  is  it  you  carry  in  the  wallet  string  at  your  neck? 

KOMACHI. 

Death  may  come  to-day — or  hunger  to-morrow. 


SOTOBAKOMACHI  121 

A  few  beans  and  a  cake  of  millet: 
That  is  what  I  carry  in  my  bag. 

CHORUS. 

And  in  the  wallet  on  your  back? 

KOMACHI. 

A  garment  stained  with  dust  and  sweat. 

CHORUS. 

And  in  the  basket  on  your  arm? 

KOMACHI. 

Sagittaries  white  and  black. 

CHORUS. 

Tattered  cloak,1 

KOMACHI. 

Broken  hat  .  .  . 

CHORUS. 

She  cannot  hide  her  face  from  our  eyes; 
And  how  her  limbs 

KOMACHI. 

From  rain  and  dew,  hoar-frost  and  snow? 

CHORUS  (speaking  for  KOMACHI  while  she  mimes  the  actions  they 

describe). 

Not  rags  enough  to  wipe  the  tears  from  my  eyes! 
Now,  wandering  along  the  roads 
I  beg  an  alms  of  those  that  pass. 
And  when  they  will  not  give, 
An  evil  rage,  a  very  madness  possesses  me. 
My  voice  changes. 
Oh  terrible! 

1  The  words  which   follow   suggest   the  plight  of   her  lover  Shosho  when  he 
lied  to  her  house  "a  hundred  nights  all  but  one,"  to  cut  his  notch  on  the 


122  THE   NO   PLAYS  OF  JAPAN 

KOMACHI  (thrusting  her  hat  under  the  PRIESTS'  noses  and  shrieking 
at  them  menacingly). 

Grr!     You  priests,  give  me  something:     give  me  something  .  .  . 
Ah! 

PRIEST. 

What  do  you  want? 

KOMACHI. 

Let  me  go  to  Komachi.1 

PRIEST. 

But  you  told  us  you  were  Komachi.     What  folly  is  this  you  are 
talking? 

KOMACHI. 

No,  no.  ...     Komachi  was  very  beautiful. 
Many  letters  came  to  her,  many  messages, — 
Thick  as  raindrops  out  of  a  black  summer  sky. 
But  she  sent  no  answer,  not  even  an  empty  word. 
And  now  in  punishment  she  has  grown  old : 
She  has  lived  a  hundred  years — 

1  love  her,  oh  I  love  her ! 

PRIEST. 

You  love  Komachi?     Say  then,  whose  spirit  has  possessed  you? 

KOMACHI. 

There  were  many  who  set  their  hearts  on  her, 

But  among  them  all 

It  was  Shosho  who  loved  her  best, 

Shii  no  Shosho  of  the  Deep  Grass.2 

CHORUS   (speaking  for  KOMACHI,  i.  e.  for  the  spirit  of  Shosho). 
The  wheel  goes  back;  I  live  again  through  the  cycle  of  my  woes. 
Again  I  travel  to  the  shaft-bench. 
The  sun  .  .  .  what  hour  does  he  show? 

1The  spirit  of  her  lover  Shosho  has  now  entirely  possessed  her:  this  "pos- 
session-scene" lasts  very  much  longer  on  the  stage  than  the  brief  words  would 
suggest. 

2  Fukagusa  the  name  of  his  native  place,  means  "deep  grass/' 


SOTOBAKOMACHI  123 

Dusk.  .  .  .     Alone  in  the  moonlight 

I  must  go  my  way. 

Though  the  watchmen  of  the  barriers 

Stand  across  my  path, 

They  shall  not  stop  me! 

(Attendants  robe  KOMACHI  in  the  Court  hat  and  travelling-cloak 
of  Shdsho.) 

Look,  I  go! 

KOMACHI. 

Lifting  the  white  skirts  of  my  trailing  dress, 

CHORUS  (speaking  for  KOMACHI,  while  she,  dressed  as  her  lover 
Shdsho,  mimes  the  night- journey). 

Pulling  down  over  my  ears  the  tall,  nodding  hat, 

Tying  over  my  head  the  long  sleeves  of  my  hunting  cloak, 

Hidden  from  the  eyes  of  men, 

In  moonlight,  in  darkness, 

On  rainy  nights  I  travelled;  on  windy  nights, 

Under  a  shower  of  leaves ;  when  the  snow  was  deep, 

KOMACHI. 

And  when  water  dripped  at  the  roof-eaves, — tok,  tok  .  .  . 

CHORUS. 

Swiftly,  swiftly  coming  and  going,  coming  and  going  .  .  . 

One  night,  two  nights,  three  nights, 

Ten  nights  (and  this  was  harvest  night)   .  .  . 

I  never  saw  her,  yet  I  travelled; 

Faithful  as  the  cock  who  marks  each  day  the  dawn, 

I  carved  my  marks  on  the  bench. 

I  was  to  come  a  hundred  times; 

There  lacked  but  one  .  .  . 

KOMACHI  (feeling  the  death-agony  of  Shdsho). 
My  eyes  dazzle.     Oh  the  pain,  the  pain! 

CHORUS. 

Oh  the  pain!     and  desperate, 

Before  the  last  night  had  come, 

He  died, — Shii  no  Shdsho  the  Captain. 


124  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

(Speaking  for  KOMACHI,  who  is  now  no  longer  possessed  by 

Shosho's  spirit.) 

Was  it  his  spirit  that  possessed  me, 
Was  it  his  anger  that  broke  my  wits? 
If  this  be  so,  let  me  pray  for  the  life  hereafter, 
Where  alone  is  comfort; 
Piling  high  the  sands  * 
Till  I  be  burnished  as  gold.2 
See,  I  offer  my  flower  3  to  Buddha, 
I  hold  it  in  both  hands. 
Oh  may  He  lead  me  into  the  Path  of  Truth, 
Into  the  Path  of  Truth. 

1  See  Hokkekyo,  II.  18. 

2  The  colour  of  the   saints  in  heaven. 

3  Her  "heart-flower,"  i.  e.  poetic  talent. 


CHAPTER  IV 

UKAI 

AYA  NO  TSUZUMI 

AOI  NO  UYE 


NOTE  ON  UKAI. 

SEAMI  tells  us  (Works,  p.  246)  that  this  play  was  written  by  Enami 
no  Sayemon.  "But  as  I  removed  bad  passages  and  added  good  ones, 
I  consider  the  play  to  be  really  my  work"  (p.  247). 

On  p.  245  he  points  out  that  the  same  play  on  words  occurs  in  Ukai 
three  times,  and  suggests  how  one  passage  might  be  amended.  The 
text  of  the  play  which  we  possess  to-day  still  contains  the  passages 
which  Seami  ridiculed,  so  that  it  must  be  Enami  no  Sayemon's  version 
which  has  survived,  while  Seami's  amended  text  is  lost. 

It  is  well  known  that  Buddhism  forbids  the  taking  of  life,  especially 
by  cruel  means  or  for  sport.  The  cormorant-fisher's  trade  had  long 
been  considered  particularly  wicked,  as  is  shown  by  an  early  folk- 
song: * 

"Woe  to  the  comorant-fisher 

Who  binds  the  heads  of  his  cormorants 

And  slays  the  tortoise  whose  span  is  ten  thousand  aeons! 

In  this  life  he  may  do  well  enough, 

But  what  will  become  of  him  at  his  next  birth?" 

This  song,  which  is  at  least  as  old  as  the  twelfth  century,  and  may  be 
much  earlier,  seems  to  be  the  seed  from  which  the  No  play  Ukai  grew. 

1  Ryojin  Hissho,  p.  135. 


127 


UKAI 

(THE  CORMORANT-FISHER) 
By  ENAMI  NO  SAYEMON  (c.  1400). 

PERSONS 

PRIEST.  FISHER. 

SECOND  PRIEST.  YAMA,  KING  OF  HELL. 

CHORUS. 

PRIEST. 

I  am  a  priest  from  Kiyosumi  in  Awa.     I  have  never  yet  seen  the 
country  of  Kai,  so  now  I  am  minded  to  go  there  on  pilgrimage. 

(Describing  the  journey.) 

On  the  foam  of  white  waves 
From  Kiyosumi  in  the  land  of  Awa  riding 
To  Mutsura  I  come;  to  the  Hill  of  Kamakura, 
Lamentably  tattered,  yet  because  the  World 
Is  mine  no  longer,  unashamed  on  borrowed  bed, 
Mattress  of  straw,  to  lie  till  the  bell  swings 
Above  my  pillow.     Away,  away!     For  dawn 
Is  on  the  hemp-fields  of  Tsuru.     Now  the  noonday  sun 
Hangs  high  above  us  as  we  cross  the  hills. 
Now  to  the  village  of  Isawa  we  come. 
Let  us  lie  down  and  rest  awhile  in  the  shelter  of  this  shrine. 

(The   FISHER  comes  along  the  hashigakari  towards   the   stage 
carrying  a  lighted  torch.) 

FISHER. 

When  the  fisher's  torch  is  quenched 

What  lamp  shall  guide  him  on  the  dark  road  that  lies  before? 
Truly,  if  the  World  had  tasked  me  hardly 
I  might  be  minded  to  leave  it,  but  this  bird-fishing, 
Cruel  though  it  be  in  the  wanton  taking  of  life  away, 

128 


UKAI  129 

Is  a  pleasant  trade  to  ply 

Afloat  on  summer  streams. 

I  have  heard  it  told  that  Yushi  and  Hakuyo  vowed  their  love-vows 
by  the  moon,  and  were  changed  to  wedded  stars  of  heaven.  And 
even  to-day  the  high  ones  of  the  earth  are  grieved  by  moonless  nights. 
Only  I  grow  weary  of  her  shining  and  welcome  nights  of  darkness. 
But  when  the  torches  on  the  boats  burn  low, 

Then,  in  the  dreadful  darkness  comes  repentance 

Of  the  crime  that  is  my  trade, 

My  sinful  sustenance;  and  life  thus  lived 

Is  loathsome  then. 

Yet  I  would  live,  and  soon 

Bent  on  my  oar  I  push  between  the  waves 

To  ply  my  hateful  trade. 

I  will  go  up  to  the  chapel  as  I  am  wont  to  do,  and  give  my  cormorants 
rest.  (Seeing  the  PRIESTS.)  What,  have  travellers  entered  here? 

PRIEST. 

We  are  pilgrim-priests.  We  asked  for  lodging  in  the  village. 
But  they  told  us  that  it  was  not  lawful  for  them  to  receive  us,  so  we 
lay  down  in  the  shelter  of  this  shrine. 

FISHER. 

Truly,  truly:  I  know  of  none  in  the  village  that  could  give  you 
lodging. 

PRIEST. 

Pray  tell  me,  sir,  what  brings  you  here? 

FISHER. 

Gladly.  I  am  a  conn  or  ant- fisher.  While  the  moon  is  shining  I 
rest  at  this  shrine;  but  when  the  moon  sinks,  I  go  to  ply  my  trade. 

PRIEST. 

Then  you  will  not  mind  our  lodging  here.  But,  sir,  this  work  of 
slaughter  ill  becomes  you;  for  I  see  that  the  years  lie  heavy  on  you. 
Pray  leave  this  trade  and  find  yourself  another  means  of  sustenance. 

FISHER. 

You  say  well.  But  this  trade  has  kept  me  since  I  was  a  child. 
I  cannot  leave  it  now. 


130  THE  N5   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

SECOND  PRIEST. 

Listen.  The  sight  of  this  man  has  brought  back  something  to  my 
mind.  Down  this  river  there  is  a  place  they  call  Rock-tumble.  And 
there,  when  I  passed  that  way  three  years  ago,  I  met  just  such  a 
fisherman  as  this.  And  when  I  told  him  this  cormorant-fishing  was 
reckoned  a  sin  against  life,  I  think  he  listened;  for  he  brought  me 
back  to  his  house  and  lodged  me  with  uncommon  care. 

FISHER. 

And  you  are  the  priest  that  came  then? 

SECOND  PRIEST. 
Yes,  I  am  he. 

FISHER. 

That  cormorant-fisher  died. 

PRIEST. 

How  came  he  to  die? 

FISHER. 

Following  his  trade,  more  shame  to  him.  Listen  to  his  story  and 
give  his  soul  your  prayers. 

PRIEST. 

Gladly  we  will. 

FISHER  (seats  himself  facing  the  audience  and  puts  down  his  torch). 

You  must  know  that  on  this  river  of  Isawa,  for  a  stretch  of  three 
leagues  up  stream  and  down,  the  killing  of  any  living  creature  is 
forbidden.  Now  at  that  Rock-tumble  you  spoke  of  there  were  many 
cormorant-fishers  who  every  night  went  secretly  to  their  fishing.  And 
the  people  of  the  place,  hating  the  vile  trade,  made  plans  to  catch 
them  at  their  task.  But  he  knew  nothing  of  this;  and  one  night  he 
went  there  secretly  and  let  his  cormorants  loose. 

There  was  an  ambush  set  for  him ;  in  a  moment  they  were  upon  him. 
"Kill  him!"  they  cried;  "one  life  for  many,"  was  their  plea.  Then  he 
pressed  palm  to  palm.  "Is  the  taking  of  life  forbidden  in  this  place? 
Had  I  but  known  it!  But  now,  never  again  .  .  ."  So  with  clasped 
hands  he  prayed  and  wept;  but  none  helped  him;  and  as  fishers  set 
their  stakes  they  planted  him  deep  in  the  stream.  He  cried,  but  no 


UKAI  131 

sound  came.     (Turning  to  the  PRIEST  suddenly.)     I  am  the  ghost 
of  that  fisherman. 

PRIEST. 

Oh  strange!     If  that  be  so,  act  out  before  me  the  tale  of  your 
repentance.     Show  me  your  sin  and  I  will  pray  for  you  tenderly. 

FISHER. 

I  will  act  before  your  eyes  the  sin  that  binds  me,  the  cormorant- 
fishing  of  those  days.     Oh  give  my  soul  your  prayer! 

PRIEST. 
I  will. 

FISHER  (rising  and  taking  up  his  torch). 
The  night  is  passing.  It  is  fishing-time. 
I  must  rehearse  the  sin  that  binds  me. 

PRIEST. 

I  have  read  in  tales  of  a  foreign  land  l 
How  sin-laden  the  souls  of  the  dead 
Have  toiled  at  bitter  tasks; 
But  strange,  before  my  eyes 
To  see  such  penance  done! 

FISHER  (describing  his  own  action). 
He  waved  the  smeared  torches. 

PRIEST  (describing  the  FISHER'S  action). 
Girt  up  his  coarse-spun  skirts. 

FISHER  (going  to  the  "flute- pillar"  and  bending  over  as  if  opening 

a  basket). 
Then  he  opened  the  basket, 

'RIEST. 
And  those  fierce  island-birds 

FISHER 

Over  the  river-waves  suddenly  he  loosed  .  .  . 
1  Or,  according  to  another  reading,  "tales  of  Hell." 


132  THE   NO    PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

CHORUS. 

See  them,  see  them  clear  in  the  torches'  light 

Hither  and  thither  darting, 

Those  frightened  fishes.1 

Swift  pounce  the  diving  birds, 

Plunging,  scooping, 

Ceaselessly  clutch  their  prey: 

In  the  joy  of  capture 

Forgotten  sin  and  forfeit 

Of  the  life  hereafter! 

Oh  if  these  boiling  waters  would  be  still, 

Then  would  the  carp  rise  thick 

As  goldfinch  in  a  bowl. 

Look  how  the  little  ayu  leap  2 

Playing  in  the  shallow  stream. 

Hem  them  in:    give  them  no  rest! 

Oh  strange! 

The  torches  burn  still,  but  their  light  grows  dim; 

And  I  remember  suddenly  and  am  sad. 

It  is  the  hated  moon! 

(He  throws  down  the  torch.) 

The  lights  of  the  fishing-boat  are  quenched; 
Homeward  on  the  Way  of  Darkness  3 
In  anguish  I  depart. 

(He  leaves  the  stage.) 

PRIEST  (sings  his  "machi-utai?9  or  waiting-song,  while  the  actor  who 
has  taken  the  part  of  the  FISHER  changes  into  the  mask  and 
costume  of  the  KING  OF  HELL.) 

I  dip  my  hand  in  the  shallows, 

I  gather  pebbles  in  the  stream. 

I  write  Scripture  upon  them, 

Upon  each  stone  a  letter  of  the  Holy  Law. 

1  The  Fisher  holds  up  his  torch  and  looks  down  as  though  peering  into  the 
water. 

2 1  have  omitted  the  line  "Though  this  be  not  the  river  of  Tamashima,"  a 
reference  to  the  Empress  Jingo,  who  caught  an  ayu  at  Tamashima  when  on  her 
way  to  fight  the  Coreans. 

3  A  name  for  Hades. 


UKAI  133 

Now  I  cast  them  back  into  the  waves  and  their  drowned  spell 
Shall  raise  from  its  abyss  a  foundered  soul. 

(Enter  YAM  A,  KING  OF  HELL;  he  remains  on  the  hashigakari.) 

YAMA. 

Hell  is  not  far  away: 

All  that  your  eyes  look  out  on  in  the  world 

Is  the  Fiend's  home. 

I  am  come  to  proclaim  that  the  sins  of  this  man,  who  from  the  days 
of  his  boyhood  long  ago  has  fished  in  rivers  and  streams,  were  grown 
so  many  that  they  filled  the  pages  of  the  Iron  Book;1  while  on  the 
Golden  Leaves  there  was  not  a  mark  to  his  name.  And  he  was  like 
to  have  been  thrown  down  into  the  Deepest  Pit;  but  now,  because  he 
once  gave  lodging  to  a  priest,  I  am  commanded  to  carry  him  quickly 
to  Buddha's  Place. 

The  Demon's  rage  is  stilled, 
The  fisher's  boat  is  changed 
To  the  ship  of  Buddha's  vow,2 
Lifeboat  of  the  Lotus  Law.8 

1  Good  deeds  were  recorded  in  a  golden  book,  evil  deeds  in  an  iron  one. 

2  He  vowed  that  he  would  come  as  a  ship  to  those  drowning  in  the  Sea  of 
Delusion. 

•Here  follow  the  twelve  concluding  lines,  too  full  of  Buddhist  technicalities 
to  interest  a  general  reader. 


AYA     NO    TSUZUMI 
(THE     DAMASK    DRUM) 

ATTRIBUTED       TO       SEAMI,       BUT       PERHAPS 

EARLIER. 

PERSONS 

A  COURTIER.       AN  OLD  GARDENER. 
THE  PRINCESS. 

COURTIER. 

I  am  a  courtier  at  the  Palace  of  Kinomaru  in  the  country  of 
Chikiizen.  You  must  know  that  in  this  place  there  is  a  famous  pond 
called  the  Laurel  Pond,  where  the  royal  ones  often  take  their  walks; 
so  it  happened  that  one  day  the  old  man  who  sweeps  the  garden  here 
caught  sight  of  the  Princess.  And  from  that  time  he  has  loved  her 
with  a  love  that  gives  his  heart  no  rest. 

Some  one  told  her  of  this,  and  she  said,  "Love's  equal  realm  knows 
no  divisions,"  x  and  in  her  pity  she  said,  "By  that  pond  there  stands 
a  laurel-tree,  and  on  its  branches  there  hangs  a  drum.  Let  him  beat 
the  drum,  and  if  the  sound  is  heard  in  the  Palace,  he  shall  see  my 
face  again." 

I  must  tell  him  of  this. 

Listen,  old  Gardener!  The  worshipful  lady  has  heard  of  your  love 
and  sends  you  this  message:  "Go  and  beat  the  drum  that  hangs  on 
the  tree  by  the  pond,  and  if  the  sound  is  heard  in  the  Palace,  you  shall 
see  my  face  again."  Go  quickly  now  and  beat  the  drum! 

GARDENER. 

With  trembling  I  receive  her  words.     I  will  go  and  beat  the  drum. 

COURTIER. 

Look,  here  is  the  drum  she  spoke  of.     Make  haste  and  beat  it! 

*A  twelfth-century  folk-song  (Ryojin  Hissho,  p.  126),  speaks  of  "The  Way 
of  Love  which  knows  no  castes  of  'high'  and  'low.' " 

134 


AYA   NO   TSUZUMI  135 

(He  leaves  the  GARDENER  standing  by  the  tree  and  seats  himself  at 
the  foot  of  the  "WakVs  pillar.99) 

GARDENER. 

They  talk  of  the  moon-tree,  the  laurel  that  grows  in  the  Garden  of 
the  Moon.  .  .  .  But  for  me  there  is  but  one  true  tree,  this  laurel  by 
the  lake.  Oh,  may  the  drum  that  hangs  on  its  branches  give  forth 
a  mighty  note,  a  music  to  bind  up  my  bursting  heart. 

Listen!  the  evening  bell  to  help  me  chimes; 

But  then  tolls  in 

A  heavy  tale  of  day  linked  on  to  day, 

CHORUS  (speaking  for  the  GARDENER). 
And  hope  stretched  out  from  dusk  to  dusk. 
But  now,  a  watchman  of  the  hours,  I  beat 
The  longed-for  stroke. 

GARDENER. 

I  was  old,  I  shunned  the  daylight, 

I  was  gaunt  as  an  aged  crane; 

And  upon  all  that  misery 

Suddenly  a  sorrow  was  heaped, 

The  new  sorrow  of  love. 

The  days  had  left  their  marks, 

Coming  and  coming,  like  waves  that  beat  on  a  sandy  shore  .  .  . 

CHORUS. 

Oh,  with  a  thunder  of  white  waves 
The  echo  of  the  drum  shall  roll. 

GARDENER. 

The  after-world  draws  near  me, 
Yet  even  now  I  wake  not 
From  this  autumn  of  love  that  closes 
In  sadness  the  sequence  of  my  years. 

CHORUS. 

And  slow  as  the  autumn  dew 

Tears  gather  in  my  eyes,  to  fall 

Scattered  like  dewdrops  from  a  shaken  flower 

On  my  coarse-woven  dress. 

See  here  the  marks,  imprint  of  tangled  love, 

That  all  the  world  will  read. 


136  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

GARDENER. 

I  said  "I  will  forget," 

CHORUS. 

And  got  worse  torment  so 

Than  by  remembrance.     But  all  in  this  world 

Is  as  the  horse  of  the  aged  man  of  the  land  of  Sai ;  l 

And  as  a  white  colt  flashes 

Past  a  gap  in  the  hedge,  even  so  our  days  pass.2 

And  though  the  time  be  come, 

Yet  can  none  know  the  road  that  he  at  last  must  tread, 

Goal  of  his  dewdrop-life. 

All  this  I  knew;  yet  knowing, 

Was  blind  with  folly. 

GARDENER. 

"Wake,  wake,"  he  cries  — 

CHORUS. 

The  watchman  of  the  hours, — 

"Wake  from  the  sleep  of  dawn!" 

And  batters  on  the  drum. 

For  if  its  sound  be  heard,  soon  shall  he  see 

Her  face,  the  damask  of  her  dress  .  .  . 

Aye,  damask!     He  does  not  know 

That  on  a  damask  drum  he  beats, 

Beats  with  all  the  strength  of  his  hands,  his  aged  hands, 

But  hears  no  sound. 

"Am  I  grown  deaf?"  he  cries,  and  listens,  listens: 

Rain  on  the  windows,  lapping  of  waves  on  the  pool — 

Both  these  he  hears,  and  silent  only 

The  drum,  strange  damask  drum. 

Oh,  will  it  never  sound? 

I  thought  to  beat  the  sorrow  from  my  heart, 

Wake  music  in  a  damask  drum;  an  echo  of  love 

From  the  voiceless  fabric  of  pride! 

1  A  story  from  Huai-nan  Tzu.    What  looks  like  disaster  turns  out  to  be  good 
fortune    and    vice   versa.    The    horse    broke    away   and   was   lost.     A    revolution 
occurred  during  which  the  Government  seized  all  horses.     When  the  revolution  was 
over  the  man  of  Sai's  horse  was  rediscovered.     If  he  had  not  lost  it  the  Govern- 
ment would  have  taken  it. 

2  This  simile,  which  passed  into  a  proverb  in  China  and  Japan,  occurs  first 
in  Chuang  Tzu,  chap.  xxii. 


AYA  NO   TSUZUMI  137 

GARDENER. 

Longed  for  as  the  moon  that  hides 
In  the  obstinate  clouds  of  a  rainy  night 
Is  the  sound  of  the  watchman's  drum, 
To  roll  the  darkness  from  my  heart. 

CHORUS. 

I  beat  the  drum.     The  days  pass  and  the  hours. 
It  was  yesterday,  and  it  is  to-day. 

GARDENER. 

But  she  for  whom  I  wait 

CHORUS. 

Comes  not  even  in  dream.     At  dawn  and  dusk 

GARDENER. 

No  drum  sounds. 

CHORUS. 

She  has  not  come.     Is  it  not  sung  that  those 

Whom  love  has  joined 

Not  even  the  God  of  Thunder  can  divide? 

Of  lovers,  I  alone 

Am  guideless,  comfortless. 

Then  weary  of  himself  and  calling  her  to  witness  of  his  woe, 

"Why  should  I  endure,"  he  cried, 

"Such  life  as  this?"  and  in  the  waters  of  the  pond 

He  cast  himself  and  died. 

(GARDENER    leaves  the  stage.) 

Enter  the  PRINCESS. 
COURTIER. 

I  would  sJpeak  with  you,  madam. 

The  drum  made  no  sound,  and  the  aged  Gardener  in  despair  has 
himself  into  the  pond  by  the  laurel  tree,  and  died.     The  soul  of 
Midi  a  one  may  cling  to  you  and  do  you  injury.     Go  out  and  look 
upon  him 

PRINCESS  (speaking  wildly,  already  possessed  by  the  GARDENER'S 
angry  ghost,  which  speaks  through  her).1 

1  Compare  the  "possession"  in  Sotoba  Komachi. 


138  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

Hasten,  people,  listen! 
In  the  noise  of  the  beating  waves 
I  hear  the  rolling  of  a  drum. 
Oh,  joyful  sound,  oh  joyful! 
The  music  of  a  drum, 

COURTIER. 

Strange,  strange! 
This  lady  speaks  as  one 
By  phantasy  possessed. 
What  is  amiss,  what  ails  her? 

PRINCESS. 

Truly,  by  phantasy  I  am  possessed. 

Can  a  damask  drum  give  sound? 

When  I  bade  him  beat  what  could  not  ring, 

Then  tottered  first  my  wits. 

COURTIER. 

She  spoke,  and  on  the  face  of  the  evening  pool 
A  wave  stirred. 

PRINCESS. 

And  out  of  the  wave 

COURTIER. 
A  voice  spoke. 

(The  voice  of  the  GARDENER  is  heard;  as  he  gradually  ad- 
vances along  the  hashigakari  it  is  seen  that  he  wears  a 
"demon  mask,"  leans  on  a  staff  and  carries  the  "demon 
mallet"  at  his  girdle.) 

GARDENER'S  GHOST. 

I  was  driftwood  in  the  pool,  but  the  waves  of  bitterness 

CHORUS. 

Have  washed  me  back  to  the  shore. 

GHOST. 

Anger  clings  to  my  heart, 

Clings  even  now  when  neither  wrath  nor  weeping 

Are  aught  but  folly. 


AYA  NO   TSUZUMI  139 

CHORUS. 

One  thought  consumes  me, 
The  anger  of  lust  denied 
Covers  me  like  darkness. 
I  am  become  a  demon  dwelling 
In  the  hell  of  my  dark  thoughts, 
Storm-cloud  of  my  desires. 

GHOST. 

"Though  the  waters  parch  in  the  fields 

Though  the  brooks  run  dry, 

Never  shall  the  place  be  shown 

Of  the  spring  that  feeds  my  heart."1 

So  I  had  resolved.     Oh,  why  so  cruelly 

Set  they  me  to  win 

Voice  from  a  voiceless  drum, 

Spending  my  heart  in  vain? 

And  I  spent  my  heart  on  the  glimpse  of  a  moon  that  slipped 

Through  the  boughs  of  an  autumn  tree.2 

CHORUS. 

This  damask  drum  that  hangs  on  the  laurel-tree 

GHOST. 

Will  it  sound,  will  it  sound? 

(He  seizes  the  PRINCESS  and  drags  her  towards  the  drum.) 
Try!     Strike  it! 

CHORUS. 

"Strike!"  he  cries; 

'The  quick  beat,  the  battle-charge! 

Loud,  loud!     Strike,  strike,"  he  rails, 

And  brandishing  his  demon-stick 

Gives  her  no  rest. 

"Oh  woe!"  the  lady  weeps, 

"No  sound,  no  sound.     Oh  misery!"  she  wails. 

And  he,  at  the  mallet  stroke,  "Repent,  repent!" 

Such  torments  in  the  world  of  night 

Aborasetsu,  chief  of  demons,  wields, 

1  Adapted  from  a  poem  in  the  Goscnshtt. 
a  Adapted  from  a  poem  in  the  Kokiruhu. 


140  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

Who  on  the  Wheel  of  Fire 

Sears  sinful  flesh  and  shatters  bones  to  dust. 

Not  less  her  torture  now! 

"Oh,  agony!"  she  cries,  "What  have  I  done, 

By  what  dire  seed  this  harvest  sown?" 

GHOST. 

Clear  stands  the  cause  before  you. 

CHORUS. 

Clear  stands  the  cause  before  my  eyes; 

I  know  it  now. 

By  the  pool's  white  waters,  upon  the  laurel's  bough 
The  drum  was  hung. 

He  did  not  know  his  hour,  but  struck  and  struck 
Till  all  the  will  had  ebbed  from  his  heart's  core; 
Then  leapt  into  the  lake  and  died. 
And  while  his  body  rocked 
Like  driftwood  on  the  waves, 
His  soul,  an  angry  ghost, 

Possessed  the  lady's  wits,  haunted  her  heart  with  woe. 
The  mallet  lashed,  as  these  waves  lash  the  shore, 
Lash  on  the  ice  of  the  eastern  shore. 
The  wind  passes;  the  rain  falls 
On  the  Red  Lotus,  the  Lesser  and  the  Greater.1 
The  hair  stands  up  on  my  head. 
"The  fish  that  leaps  the  falls 
To  a  fell  snake  is  turned,"  2 


In  the  Kwanze  School  this  play  is  replaced  by  another  called  The  Burden  of 
Love,  also  attributed  to  Seami,  who  writes  (Works,  p.  166):  "The  Burden  of 
Love  was  formerly  The  Damask  Drum."  The  task  set  in  the  later  play  is  the 
carrying  of  a  burden  a  thousand  times  round  the  garden.  The  Gardener  seizes 
the  burden  joyfully  and  begins  to  run  with  it,  but  it  grows  heavier  and  heavier, 
till  he  sinks  crushed  to  death  beneath  it. 


1  The  names  of  two  of  the  Cold  Hells  in  the  Buddhist  Inferno. 

2  There  is  a  legend  that  the  fish  who  succeed  in  leaping  a  certain  waterfall 
turn  into  dragons.     So  the  Gardener's  attempt  to  raise  himself  to   the  level  of 
the  Princess  has  changed  him  into  an  evil  demon. 


AYA   NO   TSUZUMI 


141 


I  have  learned  to  know  them; 
Such,  such  are  the  demons  of  the  World  of  Night. 
"0  hateful  lady,  hateful!"  he  cried,  and  sank  again 
Into  the  whirlpool  of  desire. 


NOTE  ON  Aoi  No  UYE. 

AT  the  age  of  twelve  Prince  Genji  went  through  the  ceremony  of 
marriage  with  Aoi  no  Uye  (Princess  Hollyhock),  the  Prime  Minister's 
daughter.  She  continued  to  live  at  her  father's  house  and  Genji  at 
his  palace.  When  he  was  about  sixteen  he  fell  in  love  with  Princess 
Rokujo,  the  widow  of  the  Emperor's  brother;  she  was  about  eight 
years  older  than  himself.  He  was  not  long  faithful  to  her.  The 
lady  Yugao  next  engaged  his  affections.  He  carried  her  one  night  to 
a  deserted  mansion  on  the  outskirts  of  the  City.  "The  night  was  far 
advanced  and  they  had  both  fallen  asleep.  Suddenly  the  figure  of 
a  woman  appeared  at  the  bedside.  "I  have  found  you!"  it  cried. 
"What  stranger  is  this  that  lies  beside  you?  What  treachery  is  this 
that  you  flaunt  before  my  eyes?"  And  with  these  words  the  appari- 
tion stooped  over  the  bed,  and  made  as  though  to  drag  away  the 
sleeping  girl  from  Genji's  side."  l 

Before  dawn  Yugao  was  dead,  stricken  by  the  "living  phantom" 
of  Rokujo,  embodiment  of  her  baleful  jealousy. 

Soon  after  this,  Genji  became  reconciled  with  his  wife  Aoi,  but 
continued  to  visit  Rokujo.  One  day,  at  the  Kamo  Festival,  Aoi's 
way  was  blocked  by  another  carriage.  She  ordered  her  attendants 
to  drag  it  aside.  A  scuffle  ensued  between  her  servants  and  those 
of  Rokujo  (for  she  was  the  occupant  of  the  second  carriage)  in 
which  Aoi's  side  prevailed.  Rokujo's  carriage  was  broken  and  Aoi's 
pushed  into  the  front  place.  After  the  festival  was  over  Aoi  returned 
to  the  Prime  Minister's  house  in  high  spirits. 

Soon  afterwards  she  fell  ill,  and  it  is  at  this  point  that  the  play 
begins. 

There  is  nothing  obscure  or  ambiguous  in  the  situation.  Fenollosa 
seems  to  have  misunderstood  the  play  and  read  into  it  complications 
and  confusions  which  do  not  exist.  He  also  changes  the  sex  of  the 
Witch,  though  the  Japanese  word,  miko,  always  has  a  feminine  mean- 
ing. The  "Romance  of  Genji"  (Genji  Monogatari)  was  written  by 
Lady  Murasaki  Shikibu  and  was  finished  in  the  year  1004  A.  D.  Of 
its  fifty-four  chapters  only  seventeen  have  been  translated.1  It  fur- 
nished the  plots  of  many  No  plays,  of  which  Suma  Genji  (Genji's  exile 

1  Genji   Monogatari    (Romance   of   Genji),   chap,   iii.,   Hukubunkwan    Edition, 
p.  87. 

2  By  Baron  SuyemaUu  in  1881. 

143 


144  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

at  Suma),  No  no  Miya  (his  visit  to  Rokujo  after  she  became  a  nun), 
Tamakatsura  (the  story  of  Yugao's  daughter),  and  Hajitomi  (in  which 
Yugao's  ghost  appears)  are  the  best  known. 

There  is  some  doubt  about  the  authorship  of  the  play.  Seami  saw 
it  acted  as  a  Dengaku  by  his  father's  contemporary  Inuo.  He  de- 
scribes Inuo's  entry  on  to  the  stage  in  the  role  of  Rukujo  and  quotes  the 
first  six  lines  of  her  opening  speech.  These  lines  correspond  exactly 
with  the  modern  text,  and  it  is  probable  that  the  play  existed  in  some- 
thing like  its  present  form  in  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  century. 
Kwanze  Nagatoshi,  the  great-grandson  of  Seami,  includes  it  in  a  list  of 
Seami's  works;  while  popular  tradition  ascribes  it  to  Seami's  son-in- 
law  Zenchiku. 


AOI    NO    UYE 

(PRINCESS    HOLLYHOCK) 

REVISED    BY    ZENCHIKU    UJINOBU     (1414-1499?) 

PERSONS 

COURTIER.  THE  SAINT  OF  YOKAWA. 

WITCH.  MESSENGER. 

PRINCESS  ROKUJO.          CHORUS. 

(A  folded  cloak  laid  in  front  of  the  stage  symbolizes  the  sick- 
bed of  Aoi.) 

COURTIER. 

I  am  a  courtier  in  the  service  of  the  Emperor  Shujaku.  You  must 
know  that  the  Prime  Minister's  daughter,  Princess  Aoi,  has  fallen 
We  have  sent  for  abbots  and  high-priests  of  the  Greater 
School  and  of  the  Secret  School,  but  they  could  not  cure  her. 

And  now,  here  at  my  side,  stands  the  witch  of  Teruhi,1  a  famous 
diviner  with  the  bow-string.  My  lord  has  been  told  that  by  twanging 
her  bow-string  she  can  make  visible  an  evil  spirit  and  tell  if  it  be 
the  spirit  of  a  living  man  or  a  dead.  So  he  bade  me  send  for  her  and 
let  her  pluck  her  string.  (Turning  to  the  WITCH,  who  has  been 
uaiting  motionless.)  Come,  sorceress,  we  are  ready! 

WITCH  (comes  forward  beating  a  little  drum  and  reciting  a  mystic 

formula). 

Ten  shojo;  chi  shojo. 
Naige  shojo;  rokon  shojo. 

Pure  above;  pure  below. 

Pure  without;  pure  within. 

Pure  in  eyes,  ears,  heart  and  tongue. 

(She  plucks  her  bow-string,  reciting  the  spell.) 

You  whom  I  call 
Hold  loose  the  reins 

1  A  miko  or  witch  called  Tcruhi  is  the  subject  of  the  play  Son/a  TaJcusen. 

145 


146  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

On  your  grey  colt's  neck 
As  you  gallop  to  me 
Over  the  long  sands! 

(The  living  phantasm  of  ROKUJO  appears  at  the  back  of  the 
stage.) 

ROKUJO. 

In  the  Three  Coaches 

That  travel  on  the  Road  of  Law 

I  drove  out  of  the  Burning  House  .  .  -1 

Is  there  no  way  to  banish  the  broken  coach 

That  stands  at  Yugao's  door?  2 

This  world 

Is  like  the  wheels  of  the  little  ox-cart; 
Round  and  round  they  go  ...  till  vengeance  comes. 
The  Wheel  of  Life  turns  like  the  wheel  of  a  coach; 
There  is  no  escape  from  the  Six  Paths  and  Four  Births. 
We  are  brittle  as  the  leaves  of  the  basho; 
As  fleeting  as  foam  upon  the  sea. 
Yesterday's  flower,  to-day's  dream. 
From  such  a  dream  were  it  not  wiser  to  wake? 
And  when  to  this  is  added  another's  scorn 
How  can  the  heart  have  rest? 
So  when  I  heard  the  twanging  of  your  bow 
For  a  little  while,  I  thought,  I  will  take  my  pleasure; 
And  as  an  angry  ghost  appeared. 
Oh!     I  am  ashamed! 

(She  veils  her  face.) 
This  time  too  I  have  come  secretly  8 

1  Rokujo  has  left  the  "Burning  House,"  i.  e.  her  material  body.    The  "Three 
Coaches"  are  those  of  the  famous  "Burning  House"  parable   in  the  Hokkekyo. 
Some  children  were  in  a  burning  house.    Intent  on  their  play,  they  could  not  be 
induced  to  leave  the  building;  till  their  father  lured  them  out  by  the  promise 
that   they   would   find  those  little   toy  coaches   awaiting  them.     So   Buddha,   by 
partial  truth,  lures  men  from  the  "burning  house"  of  their  material  lives.    Owing 
to  the  episode  at  the  Kamo  Festival,  Rokujo  is  obsessed  by  the  idea  of  "car- 
riages," "wheels"  and  the  like. 

2  One  day  Rokujo  saw  a  coach  from  which  all  badges  and  distinctive  decora- 
tions had  been  purposely  stripped   (hence,  in  a  sense,  a  "broken  coach")   stand- 
ing   before    Yugao's    door.     She    found    out    that    it    was    Genji's.    For   Yugao, 
see  p.  142. 

3  Rokujo  went  secretly  to  the  Kamo  Festival  in  a  closed  carriage. 


AOI    NO    UYE  147 


In  a  closed  coach. 

Though  I  sat  till  dawn  and  watched  the  moon, 

Till  dawn  and  watched, 

How  could  I  show  myself, 

That  am  no  more  than  the  mists  that  tremble  over  the  fields? 

I  am  come,  I  am  come  to  the  notch  of  your  bow 

To  tell  my  sorrow. 

Whence  came  the  noise  of  the  bow-string? 

WITCH. 

Though  she  should  stand  at  the  wife-door  of  the  mother-house  of 
the  square  court  .  .  .l 

ROKUJO. 

Yet  would  none  come  to  me,  that  am  not  in  the  flesh.2 

WITCH. 

How  strange!  I  see  a  fine  lady  whom  I  do  not  know  riding  in  a 
broken  coach.  She  clutches  at  the  shafts  of  another  coach  from 
\vhi<h  the  oxen  have  been  unyoked.  And  in  the  second  coach  sits 
one  who  seems  a  new  wife.3  The  lady  of  the  broken  coach  is  weep- 
ing, weeping.  It  is  a  piteous  sight. 

Can  this  be  she? 

COURTIER. 

It  would  not  be  hard  to  guess  who  such  a  one  might  be.  Come, 
spirit,  tell  us  your  name! 

ROKUJO. 

In  this  Saha  World  4  where  days  fly  like  the  lightning's  flash 

None  is  worth  hating  and  none  worth  pitying. 

This  I  knew.     Oh  when  did  folly  master  me? 

You  would  know  who  I  am  that  have  come  drawn  by  the  twanging  of 
your  bow?     I  am  the  angry  ghost  of  Rokujo,  Lady  of  the  Chamber. 

Long  ago  I  lived  in  the  world. 

I  sat  at  flower-feasts  among  the  clouds.5 

1  Words  from  an  old  dance-song  or  "saibara" 

2  "That  am  a  ghost/'  but  also  "that  have  lost  my  beauty.** 
8  Alluding  to  Aoi's  pregnancy. 

4  A  Sanskrit  name  for  the  "world  of  appearances," 
B  L  e.  at  the  Palace. 


148  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

On  spring  mornings  I  rode  out 
In  royal  retinue  and  on  autumn  nights 
Among  the  red  leaves  of  the  Rishis'  Cave 
I  sported  with  moonbeams, 
With  colours  and  perfumes 
My  senses  sated. 
I  had  splendour  then; 
But  now  I  wither  like  the  Morning  Glory 
Whose  span  endures  not  from  dawn  to  midday. 
I  have  come  to  clear  my  hate. 

(She  then  quotes  the  Buddhist  saying,  "Our  sorrows  in  this 
world  are  not  caused  by  others;  for  even  when  others  wrong 
us  we  are  suffering  the  retribution  of  our  own  deeds  in  a 
previous  existence." 

But  while  singing  these  words  she  turns  towards  AOI'S  bed; 
.passion  again  seizes  her  and  she  cries:) 

I  am  full  of  hatred. 

I    must   strike;    I   must   strike. 

(She  creeps  towards  the  bed.) 
WITCH. 

You,  Lady  Rokujo,  you  a  Lady  of  the  Chamber!  Would  you 
lay  wait  and  strike  as  peasant  women  do?  1  How  can  this  be? 
Think  and  forbear! 

ROKUJO. 

Say  what  you  will,  I  must  strike.  I  must  strike  now.  (De- 
scribing her  own  action.)  "And  as  she  said  this,  she  went  over  to 
the  pillow  and  struck  at  it."  (She  strikes  at  the  head  of  the  bed 
with  her  fan.) 

WITCH. 

She  is  going  to  strike  again.  (To  ROKUJO.)  You  shall  pay 
for  this! 

ROKUJO. 

And  this  hate  too   is  payment  for  past  hate. 

1  It  was  the  custom  for  wives  who  had  been  put  away  to  ambush  the  new  wife 
and  strike  her  "to  clear  their  hate." 


AOI    NO    UYE  149 


WITCH. 

"The  flame  of  anger 

ROKUJO. 

Consumes  itself  only."  1 

WITCH. 

Did   you   not  know? 

ROKUJO. 

Know   it   then  now. 

CHORUS. 

0  Hate,  Hate! 

Her  2  hate  so  deep  that  on  her  bed 

Our  lady  s  moans. 

Yet,  should  she  live  in  the  world  again,4 

He  would   call  her  to  him,   her  Lord 

The  Shining  One,  whose  light 

Is  brighter  than  fire-fly   hovering 

Over  the  slime  of  an  inky  pool. 

ROKUJO. 
But  for  me 

There  is  no  way  back  to  what  I  was, 
No  more  than  to  the  heart  of  a  bramble-thicket. 
The  dew  that   dries  on  the  bramble-leaf 
Comes  back  again; 
But  love   (and  this  is  worst) 
That   not   even    in  dream   returns, — 
That  is  grown  to  be  an   old  tale, — 
Now,   even   now  waxes, 
So  that  standing   at  the  bright  mirror 

1  tremble  and  am  ashamed. 

I  am  come  to  my  broken  coach.  (She  throws  down  her  fan  and 
begins  to  slip  off  her  embroidered  robe.)  I  will  hide  you  in  it 
and  carry  you  away! 

(She  stands  right  over  the  bed,  then  turns  away  and  at  the 
back  of  the  stage  throws  off  her  robe,  which  is  held  by 

rom   the  Sutralankara   Shastra    (Cat.  No.   1182). 
sRokujd'*.  »Aoi.  «I.e.  recover. 


150  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

two  attendants  in  such  a  way  that  she  cannot  be  seen. 
She  changes  her  "deigan"  mask  for  a  female  demon's 
mask  and  now  carries  a  mallet  in  her  hand.) 

(Meanbvhile  the  COURTIER,  who  has  been  standing  near  the  bed:) 

COURTIER. 

Come  quickly,  some  one!  Princess  Aoi  is  worse.  Every  minute 
she  is  worse.  Go  and  fetch  the  Little  Saint  of  Yokawa.1 

MESSENGER. 

I  tremble  and  obey. 

(He  goes  to  the  wing  and  speaks  to  some  one  off  the  stage.) 
May  I  come  in? 

SAINT  (speaking  from  the  wing). 

Who  is  it  that  seeks  admittance  to  a  room  washed  by  the  moonlight 
of  the  Three  Mysteries,  sprinkled  with  the  holy  water  of  Yoga?  Who 
would  draw  near  to  a  couch  of  the  Ten  Vehicles,  a  window  of  the 
Eight  Perceptions? 

MESSENGER. 

I  am  come  from  the  Court.  Princess  Aoi  is  ill.  They  would  have 
you  come  to  her. 

SAINT. 

It  happens  that  at  this  time  I  am  practising  particular  austerities 
and  go  nowhere  abroad.  But  if  you  are  a  messenger  from  the  Court, 
I  will  follow  you. 

(He  comes  on  the  stage.) 

COURTIER. 

We  thank  you  for  coming. 

SAINT. 

I  wait  upon  you.     Where  is  the  sick  person? 

COURTIER. 

On  the  bed  here. 
SAINT. 

Then  I  will  begin  my  incantations  at  once. 

1  The  hero  of  the  "Finding  of  Ukifune,"  a  later  episode  in  the  Genji  Monogatari. 


AOI    NO    UYE  151 


COURTIER. 
Pray  do  so. 

SAINT. 

He  said:     "I  will  say  my  incantations." 

Following  in  the  steps  of  En  no  Gyoja,1 

Clad  in  skirts  that  have  trailed  the  Peak  of  the  Two  Spheres,2 

That  have  brushed  the  dew  of  the  Seven  Precious  Trees, 

Clad  in  the  cope  of  endurance 

That  shields  from  the  world's  defilement, 

"Sarari,  sarari,"  with  such  sound 

I  shake  the  red  wooden  beads  of  my  rosary 

And  say  the  first  spell: 

Namaku  Samanda  Basarada 

Namaku  Samanda  Basarada.3 

ROKUJO  (during  the  incantation  she  has  cowered  at  the  back  of  the 
stage  wranoed  in  her  Chinese  robe,  which  she  has  picked  up 
again.) 

Go  back,  Gyoja,  go  back  to  your  home;  do  not  stay  and  be  van- 
quished ! 

SAINT. 

Be  you  what  demon  you  will,  do  not  hope  to  overcome  the  Gyoja's 
subtle  power.  I  will  pray  again. 

(He  shakes  his  rosary  whilst  the  CHORUS,  speaking  for  him, 
invokes  the  first  of  the  Five  Kings.) 

CHORUS. 

In  the  east  Go  Sanze,  Subduer  of  the  Three  Worlds. 

ROKUJO  (counter-invoking). 
In  the  south  Gundari  Yasha. 

CHORUS. 

In  the  west  Dai-itoku. 

1  Founder  of  the  sect  of  the  ascetics  called  Yamabushi  Mountaineers. 

2  Mount  Online,  near  Yoshino.  ritual  ascents  of  which  were  made  by  Yama- 
bushi. 

'Known  as  the  Lesser  Spell  of  Fudo.  The  longer  one  which  follows  is  the 
Middle  Spell.  They  consist  of  corrupt  Sanskrit  mixed  with  meaningless  magic 
syllables. 


152  THE    NO    PLAYS    OF    JAPAN 

ROKUJO. 

In  the  north  Kongo 

CHORUS. 

Yasha,  the  Diamond  King. 

ROKUJO. 

In  the  centre  the  Great  Holy 

CHORUS. 

Fudo  Immutable. 

Namaku  Samanda  Basarada 

Senda  Makaroshana 

Sohataya  Untaratakarman. 

'They  that  hear  my  name  shall  get  Great  Enlightenment; 

They  that  see  my  body  shall  attain  to  Buddhahood."  x 

ROKUJO  (suddenly  dropping  her  mallet  and  pressing  her  hands  to 

her  ears.) 

The  voice  of  the  Hannya  Book!  I  am  afraid.  Never  again  will  I 
come  as  an  angry  ghost. 

GHOST. 

When  she  heard  the  sound  of  Scripture 

The  demon's  raging  heart  was  stilled; 

Shapes  of  Pity  and  Sufferance, 

The  Bodhisats  descend. 

Her  soul  casts  off  its  bonds, 

She  walks  in  Buddha's  Way. 

1  From  the  Buddhist  Sutra  known  in  Japan  as  the  Hannya  Kyo.  It  was  sup- 
posed to  have  a  particular  influence  over  female  demons,  who  are  also  called 
"Hannyas." 


DI:MON  MASK 


CHAPTER  V 

KANTAN 

THE  HOKA  PRIESTS 
HAGOROMO 


NOTE  ON  KANTAN. 

A  YOUNG  man,  going  into  the  world  to  make  his  fortune,  stops  at  an 
inn  on  the  road  and  there  meets  with  a  sage,  who  lends  him  a  pillow. 
While  the  inn-servant  is  heating  up  the  millet,  the  young  man  dozes  on 
the  pillow  and  dreams  that  he  enters  public  life,  is  promoted,  de- 
graded, recalled  to  office,  endures  the  hardship  of  distant  campaigns, 
is  accused  of  treason,  condemned  to  death,  saved  at  the  last  moment 
and  finally  dies  at  a  great  old  age.  Awaking  from  his  dream,  the 
young  man  discovers  that  the  millet  is  not  yet  cooked.  In  a  moment's 
sleep  he  has  lived  through  the  vicissitudes  of  a  long  public  career. 
Convinced  that  in  the  great  world  "honour  is  soon  followed  by  dis- 
grace, and  promotion  by  calumny,"  he  turns  back  again  towards  the 
village  from  which  he  came. 

Such,  in  outline,  is  the  most  usual  version  of  the  story  of  Rosei's 
dream  at  Kantan.  The  earliest  form  in  which  we  know  it  is  the 
"Pillow  Tale"  of  the  Chinese  writer  Li  Pi,  who  lived  from  722  to 
789  A.  D. 

It  is  interesting  to  see  how  Seami  deals  with  a  subject  which  seems 
at  first  sight  so  impossible  to  shape  into  a  No  play.  The  "sage"  is 
eliminated,  and  in  the  dream  Rosei  immediately  becomes  Emperor 
of  Central  China.  This  affords  an  excuse  for  the  Court  dances  which 
form  the  central  "ballet"  of  the  piece.  In  the  second  half,  as  in  Hagor- 
omo  and  other  plays,  the  words  are  merely  an  accompaniment  to  the 
dancing. 

Chamberlain's  version  loses  by  the  fact  that  it  is  made  from  the 
ordinary  printed  text  which  omits  the  prologue  and  all  the  speeches 
of  the  hostess. 

The  play  is  usually  attributed  to  Seami,  but  it  is  not  mentioned  in 
his  Works,  nor  in  the  list  of  plays  by  him  drawn  up  by  his  great- 
grandson  in  1524. 

It  is  discussed  at  considerable  length  in  the  Later  Kwadensho,  whi<  h 
was  printed  c.  1600.  The  writer  of  that  book  must  therefore  have 
regarded  the  play  as  a  work  of  Seami's  period.  It  should  be  men- 
tioned that  the  geography  of  the  play  is  absurd.  Though  both  hi- 
-tart ing-point  and  goal  lie  in  the  south-western  province  of  Ssechuan, 
he  passes  through  Hantan,1  which  lay  in  the  northern  province  of 
Chih-ii. 

1  In  Japanese,  Kantan. 
155 


KANTAN 

PERSONS 

HOSTESS.  TWO  LITTER  BEARERS. 

ROSEI.  BOY  DANCER. 

ENVOY.  TWO  COURTIERS. 

CHORUS. 

HOSTESS 

I  who  now  stand  before  you  am  a  woman  of  the  village  of  Kantan 
in  China.  A  long  while  ago  I  gave  lodging  to  one  who  practised  the 
arts  of  wizardry;  and  as  payment  he  left  here  a  famous  pillow,  called 
the  Pillow  of  Kantan.  He  who  sleeps  on  this  billow  sees  in  a  moment's 
dream  the  past  or  future  spread  out  before  him,  and  so  awakes  illu- 
mined. If  it  should  chance  that  any  worshipful  travellers  arrive  to- 
day, pray  send  for  me. 

(She  takes  the  pillow  and  lays  it  on  the  covered  "dais"  which 
represents  at  first  the  bed  and  afterwards  the  palace.) 

ROSEI  (enters). 

Lost  on  the  journey  of  life,  shall  I  learn  at  last 

That  I  trod  but  a  path  of  dreams? 

My  name  is  Rosei,  and  I  have  come  from  the  land  of  Shoku.  Though 
born  to  man's  estate,  I  have  not  sought  Buddha's  way,  but  have  drifted 
from  dusk  to  dawn  and  dawn  to  dusk. 

They  tell  me  that  on  the  Hill  of  the  Flying  Sheep  in  the  land  of  So1 
there  lives  a  mighty  sage;  and  now  I  am  hastening  to  visit  him  that  he 
may  tell  by  what  rule  I  should  conduct  my  life. 

(Song  of  Travel.) 

Deep  hid  behind  the  alleys  of  the  sky 

Lie  the  far  lands  where  I  was  wont  to  dwell. 

Over  the  hills  I  trail 

A  tattered  cloak;  over  the  hills  again: 

Fen-dusk  and  mountain-dusk  and  village-dusk 

1  Corresponds  to  the  modern  province  Hupeh. 
156 


KANTAN  157 


Closed  many  times  about  me,  till  to-day 

At  the  village  of  Kantan, 

Strange  to  me  save  in  name,  my  journey  ends. 

I  have  travelled  so  fast  that  I  am  already  come  to  the  village  of 
Kantan.  Though  the  sun  is  still  high,  I  will  lodge  here  to-night 
(Knocking.)  May  I  come  in? 

HOSTESS. 
Who  is  it? 

ROSEI. 

I  am  a  traveller;  pray  give  me  lodging  for  the  night. 

HOSTESS. 

Yes,  I  can  give  you  lodging;  pray  come  this  way.  .  .  .  You 
seem  to  be  travelling  all  alone.  Tell  me  where  you  have  come  from 
and  where  you  are  going. 

ROSEI. 

I  come  from  the  land  of  Shoku.  They  tell  me  that  on  the  Hill  of  the 
Flying  Sheep  there  lives  a  sage;  and  I  am  visiting  him  that  he  may 
tell  me  by  what  rule  I  should  conduct  my  life. 

HOSTESS. 

It  is  a  long  way  to  the  Hill  of  the  Flying  Sheep.  Listen!  A  wizard 
once  lodged  here  and  gave  us  a  marvellous  pillow  called  the  Pillow  of 
Kantan:  he  who  sleeps  on  it  sees  all  his  future  in  a  moment's  dream. 

ROSEI. 

Where  is  this  pillow? 

HOSTESS. 

It  is  on  the  bed. 

ROSEI. 

I  will  go  and  sleep  upon  it. 

HOSTESS. 

And  I  meanwhile  will  heat  you  some  millet  at  the  fire. 

ROSEI  (going  to  the  bed). 

So  this  is  the  pillow,  the  Pillow  of  Kantan  that  I  have  heard  such 


158  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

strange  tales  of?     Heaven  has  guided  me  to  it,  that  I  who  came  out  to 
learn  the  secret  of  life  may  taste  the  world  in  a  dream. 

As  one  whose  course  swift  summer-rain  has  stayed, 

Unthrifty  of  the  noon  he  turned  aside 

To  seek  a  wayside  dream; 

Upon  the  borrowed  Pillow  of  Kantan 

He  laid  his  head  and  slept. 

(While  ROSEI  is  still  chanting  these  words,  the  ENVOY  enters, 
followed  by  two  ATTENDANTS  who  carry  a  litter.  The  ENVOY 
raps  on  the  post  of  the  bed.) 

ENVOY. 

Rosfei,  Rosei !     I  must  speak  with  you. 

fROSEI,  who  has  been  lying  with  his  fan  over  his  face,  rises 
when  the  ENVOY  begins  to  speak.) 

ROSEI. 

But  who  are  you? 

ENVOY. 

I  am  come  as  a  messenger  to  tell  you  that  the  Emperor  of  the  Land 
of  So1  resigns  his  throne  and  commands  that  Rosei  shall  reign  in  his 
stead. 

ROSEI. 

Unthinkable!  I  a  king?  But  for  what  reason  am  I  assigned  this 
task? 

ENVOY. 

I  cannot  venture  to  determine.  Doubtless  there  were  found  in  your 
Majesty's  countenance  auspicious  tokens,  signs  that  you  must  rule  the 
land.  Let  us  lose  no  time;  pray  deign  to  enter  this  palanquin. 

ROSEI   (looking  at  the  palanquin  in  astonishment). 
What  thing  is  this? 

A  litter  spangled  with  a  dew  of  shining  stones? 
I    am  not  wont  to   ride.     Such  splendour!     Oh,   little  thought   I 

1  So,  Chinese  "Ch'u,"  was  formerly  an  independent  feudal  State.  The  name 
means  'Hhorn,"  as  does  the  Japanese  "ibara."  Chamberlain  calls  it  "The 
Country  of  Ibara,"  but  in  this  case  the  reading  "So"  is  indicated  by  both 
Owada  and  Haga. 


KANTAN  159 


When  first  my  weary  feet  trod  unfamiliar  roads 
In  kingly  state  to  be  borne  to  my  journey's  end. 
Is  it  to  Heaven  I  ride? 

CHORUS. 

In  jewelled  palanquin 

On  the  Way  of  Wisdom  you  are  borne;  here  shall  you  learn 

That  the  flower  of  glory  fades  like  a  moment's  dream. 

See,  you  are  become  a  cloud-man  of  the  sky.1 

The  palaces  of  ancient  kings 

Rise  up  before  you,  Abo's  Hall,  the  Dragon's  Tower;2 

High  over  the  tall  clouds  their  moonlit  gables  gleam. 

The  light  wells  and  wells  like  a  rising  tide.3 

Oh  splendid  vision!     A  courtyard  strewn 

With  golden  and  silver  sand; 

And  they  that  at  the  four  sides 

Pass  through  the  jewelled  door  are  canopied 

With  a  crown  of  woven  light. 

In  the  Cities  of  Heaven,  in  the  home  of  Gods,  I  had  thought, 

Shine  such  still  beams  on  walls  of  stone; 

Never  on  palace  reared  by  hands  of  men. 

Treasures,  a  thousand  kinds,  ten  thousand  kinds, 

Tribute  to  tribute  joined,  a  myriad  vassal-kings 

Cast  down  before  the  Throne. 

Flags  of  a  thousand  lords,  ten  thousand  lords 

Shine  many-coloured  in  the  sky, 

And  the  noise  of  their  wind-flapping 

Rolls  round  the  echoing  earth. 

ROSEI. 

And  in  the  east 

CHORUS. 

Over  a  silver  hill  of  thirty  cubits  height 
A  golden  sun-wheel  rose. 

1  Kings  and  princes  are  often  called  "them  above  the  clouds." 

a  Palaces  of  the  First  Emperor.    An  attendant  has  removed  the  pillow  from  the 

"bed."    From  this  moment  the  bed  becomes  a  magnificent  palace,  as  described 

in  the  verses  which  follow. 
3  At  this  point  the  Boy  Dancer  enters. 


160  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF  JAPAN 

ROSEI. 

And  in  the  west 

Over  a  golden  hill  of  thirty  cubits  height 

A  silver  moon-wheel  rose, 

To  prove  his  words  who  sang 

"In  the  Palace  of  Long  Life1 

The  Springs  and  Autumns  cease. 

Before  the  Gate  of  Endless  Youth2 

The  days  and  months  pass  slow."3 

COURTIER. 

I  would  address  your  Majesty.  Your  Majesty  has  reigned  for  fifty 
years.  Deign  but  to  drink  this  drink  and  you  shall  live  a  thousand 
years.  See!  I  bring  you  the  nectar  and  the  grail. 

ROSEI. 

The  nectar? 

COURTIER. 

It  is  the  wine  that  Immortals  drink. 

ROSEI. 

The  grail? 

COURTIER. 

It  is  the  cup  from  which  they  drink. 

ROSEI. 

The  magic  wine!     A  thousand  generations  shall  pass 

COURTIER. 

Or  ever  the  springtime  of  your  glory  fade. 

ROSEI. 

1  bountiful   .    .    . 

COURTIER. 

Your  people  prosperous. 

1Name  of  a  famous  Chinese  palace. 

2  Famous  Gate  in  the  palace  of  the  Tang  Emperors. 

8  These  lines  are  from  a  poem  by  Yasutane,  d.  997  A.  D.  (Chamberlain  attri 
butes  them  to  Po  Chu-L) 


KANTAN  161 


CHORUS. 

For  ever  and  ever 

The  land  secure; 

The  flower  of  glory  waxing; 

The  "herb  of  increase,"  joy-increasing 

Into  the  cup  we  pour. 

See!  from  hand  to  hand  it  goes. 

"I  will  drink,"  he  cries. 

ROSEI. 

Go  circling,  magic  cup, 

CHORUS. 

Circling  from  hand  to  hand;1 

As  at  the  Feast  of  Floating  Cups2 

Hands  thrust  from  damask  sleeves  detain 

The  goblet  whirling  in  the  eager  stream; 

Now  launched,  now  landed!  * 

Oh  merry  flashing  light,  that  shall  endure 

Long  as  the  Silver  Chalice  4  circles  space. 

BOY  DANCER. 

The  white  chrysanthem-dew, 

CHORUS. 

"The  dew  of  the  flowers  dripping  day  by  day 

In  how  many  thousand  years 

Will  it  have  grown  into  a  pool?"  5 

It  shall  not  fail,  it  shall  not  fail, 

The  fountain  of  our  Immortality; 

He  draws,  and  yet  it  wells; 

He  drinks,  and  to  his  taste  it  is  as  sweet 

As  the  Gods'  deathless  food. 

His  heart  grows  airy;  day  and  night 

In  unimagined  revel,  incomparable  pride  and  glory 

Eternally  shall  pass. 

1  Here  the  Boy  Dancer  begins  to  dance  the  Dream-dance. 

3  On  the  third  day  of  the  third  month  people  floated  cups  in  the  stream. 
Each  person  as  the  cup  passed  in  front  of  him,  had  to  compose  a  poem  and 
drink  the  contents  of  the  cup. 

"These  words  also  describe  the  dancer's  movements. 

*  The  Moon.  *  See  Waley,  Japan**  Poetry,  p.  77. 


162  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

(End  of  the  BOY  DANCER'S  dance.  ROSEI,  who  has  been 
watching  this  dance,  now  springs  up  in  ecstasy  to  dance  the 
Gaku  or  Court  Dance.) 

ROSEI. 

The  spring-time  of  my  glory  fades  not   .    .    . 

CHORUS. 

Many  times  shall  you  behold 
The  pale  moon  of  dawn  .  .  . 

ROSEI. 

This  is  the  moon -men's  dance; 

Cloud-like  the  feathery  sleeves  pile  up;  the  song  of  joy 

From  dusk  to  dawn  I  sing. 

CHORUS. 

All  night  we  sing. 

The  sun  shines  forth  again, 

Sinks  down,  and  it  is  night   .    .    . 

ROSEI. 

Nay,  dawn  has  come! 

CHORUS. 

We  thought  the  morning  young,  and  lo !  the  moon 

ROSEI. 

Again  is  bright. 

CHORUS. 

Spring  scarce  has  opened  her  fresh  flowers, 

ROSEI. 

When  leaves  are  crimson-dyed. 

CHORUS. 

Summer  is  with  us  yet; 

ROSEI. 

Nay,  the  snow  falls. 


KANTAN  163 


CHORUS  (speaking  for  ROSEI). 
"I  watched  the  seasons  pass: 

Spring,  summer,  autumn,  winter;  a  thousand  trees,     , 
A  thousand  flowers  were  strange  and  lovely  in  their  pride. 
So  the  time  sped,  and  now 
Fifty  years  of  glory  have  passed  by  me, 
And  because  they  were  a  dream, 

(At  this  point  an  ATTENDANT  brings  back  the  pillow,  and 
places  it  in  the  "palace"  which  becomes  a  bed  again.) 

All,  all  has  vanished  and  I  wake 
On  the  pillow  where  I  laid  my  head, 
The  Pillow  of  Kantan. 

(The  BOY  DANCER  and  the  two  COURTIERS  slip  out  by  the 
side-door  "kirido";  ROSEI  has  mounted  the  bed  and  is 
asleep.) 

HOSTESS  (tapping  twice  with  her  fan). 

Listen,  traveller!     Your  millet  is  ready.     Come  quickly  and  eat  your 
dinner. 

ROSEI   (rising  slowly  from  the  bed). 
Rosei  has  woken  from  his  dream   .    .    . 

CHORUS. 

Woken  from  his  dream!     The  springs  and  autumns  of  fifty  years 
Vanished  with  all  their  glory;  dazed  he  rises  from  the  bed. 

ROSEI. 

Whither  are  they  gone  that  were  so  many   .    .    . 

CHORUS. 

*The  queens  and  waiting-ladies?     What  I  thought  their  voices" 

ROSEI. 

Were  but  the  whisperings  of  wind  in  the  trees. 

CHORUS. 

The  palaces  and  towers 

ROSEI. 

Were  but  the  baiting-house  of  Kantan. 


164  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

CHORUS. 

The  time  of  my  glory, 

ROSEI. 

Those  fifty  years, 

CHORUS. 

Were  but  the  space  of  a  dream, 

ROSEI. 

Dreamed  while  a  bowl  of  millet  cooked! 

CHORUS. 

It  is  the  Inscrutable,  the  Mystery. 

ROSEI. 

Yet  when  I  well  consider 

Man's  life  in  the  world  of  men   .    .    . 

CHORUS. 

Then  shall  you  find  that  a  hundred  years  of  gladness 

Fade  as  a  dream  when  Death  their  sequence  closes. 

Thus  too  has  ended 

This  monarch's  fifty  years  of  state. 

Ambition,  length  of  days, 

Revels  and  kingly  rule, 

All,  all  has  ended  thus,  all  was  a  dream 

Dreamed  while  the  millet  cooked. 

ROSEI. 

Glory  be  to  the  Trinity,1 
Glory  to  the  Trinity! 

CHORUS. 

Seek  you  a  sage  to  loose 

The  bonds  that  bound  you  to  life's  woes? 

This  pillow  is  the  oracle  you  sought. 

Now  shall  the  wayfarer,  content  to  learn 

What  here  he  learnt,  that  Life  is  but  a  dream, 

Turn  homeward  from  the  village  of  Kantan. 

1 1.  e.  Buddha,  the  Law  and  the  Priesthood.    A  pious  exclamation  of  astonish- 
ment like  the  Spanish  "Jesu,  Maria.  Jose!" 


THE   HOKA   PRIESTS 

(HOKAZO) 
By    ZENCHIKU    UJINOBU     (1414^1499) 

PERSONS 

MAKINO.  NOBUTOSH1  (their  father's  murderer). 

HIS  BROTHER.  NOBUTOSHI'S  SERVANT. 

MAKINO. 

My  name  is  Kojiro;  I  am  the  son  of  one  Makino  no  Sayemon  who 
lived  in  the  land  of  Shimotsuke.  You  must  know  that  my  father  had 
a  quarrel  with  Nobutoshi,  a  man  of  Sagami,  and  was  done  to  death  by 
him.  So  this  man  was  my  father's  murderer  and  I  ought  to  kill  him. 
But  he  has  many  bold  fellows  to  stand  by  him,  while  I  am  all  alone. 
So  the  days  and  months  slip  by  with  nothing  done. 

A  brother  indeed  I  have,  but  he  left  home  when  he  was  a  child, 
made  himself  into  a  priest,  and  lives  at  the  seminary  near  by. 

I  am  much  puzzled  how  to  act.  I  think  I  will  go  across  and  speak 
to  my  brother  of  this  matter.  (He  goes  to  the  curtain  at  the  end  of 
the  hashigakari.)  May  I  come  in? 

(The  curtain  is  raised  and  the  BROTHER  appears.) 

BROTHER. 
Who  is  it? 

MAKINO. 
It  is  I. 

BROTHER. 

Come  in,  brother.     What  has  brought  you  hither? 

MAKINO. 

I  will  tell  you.  It  is  this  matter  of  our  father's  murder  that  has 
brought  me.  I  have  been  thinking  that  I  ought  to  kill  his  enemy,  and 
would  have  done  so  but  he  has  many  bold  fellows  to  stand  by  him 

165 


166  THE  NO   PLAYS  OF  JAPAN 

and  I  am  all  alone.     So  the  days  and  months  slip  by  and  nothing  is 
done. 

For  pity's  sake,  decide  with  me  what  course  we  must  pursue. 

BROTHER. 

Brother,  what  you  have  said  is  true  enough.  But  have  you  forgotten 
that  I  left  my  home  when  I  was  but  a  child  and  made  myself  a  priest? 
Since  that  is  so,  I  cannot  help  you. 

MAKINO. 

So  you  are  pleased  to  think;  but  men  say  he  is  a  bad  son  who  does 
not  kill  his  father's  foe. 

BROTHER. 

Can  you  tell  me  of  any  that  have  ministered  to  piety  by  slaying  a 
parent's  foe? 

MAKINO. 

Why,  yes.  It  was  in  China,  I  think.  There  was  one  whose  mother 
had  been  taken  by  a  savage  tiger.  "I  will  take  vengeance,"  he  cried, 
and  for  a  hundred  days  he  lay  ambushed  in  the  fields  waiting  for  the 
tiger  to  come.  And  once  when  he  was  walking  on  the  hillside  at 
dusk,  he  thought  he  saw  his;  enemy,  and  having  an  arrow  already  on 
his  bow-string,  he  shot  with  all  his  might.  It  was  nothing  but  a  great 
rock  that  he  had  seen,  shaped  like  a  tiger.  But  his  arrow  stuck  so 
deep  in  the  stone  that  blood  gushed  out  from  it.  If  then  the  strength 
of  piety  is  such  that  it  can  drive  an  arrow  deep  into  the  heart  of  a  stone, 
take  thought,  I  beseech  you,  whether  you  will  not  resolve  to  come  with 
me. 

BROTHER. 

You  have  cited  me  a  notable  instance.  I  am  persuaded  to  resolve 
with  you  how  this  thing  may  be  effected. 

Come  now,  by  what  strategy  may  we  get  access  to  our  foe? 

MAKINO. 

A  plan  has  suddenly  come  into  my  head.  You  know  that  these  hdka 
plays1  are  become  the  fashion  of  the  day.  Why  should  not  I  dress 
up  as  a  hdka  and  you  as  a  hdka  priest?  They  say  that  our  man  is  a 
great  lover  of  the  Zen  doctrine;  so  you  may  talk  to  him  of  Zen. 


THE   H0KA   PRIESTS  167 

BROTHER. 

That  is  indeed  a  pretty  notion;  let  me  lose  no  time  in  effecting  it. 
I  am  resolved;   in  a  pilgrim  guise 
I  mask  my  limbs. 

MAKING. 

And  I,  glad-thoughted, 

In  a  minstrel's  garb  go  forth. 

BROTHER. 
Secretly 

MAKING. 

We  steal  from  a  home 

CHORUS. 

"Where  fain  we  would  stay,  but  now 

Long  as  life  lasts, 

Life  fickle  as  the  moon  of  dawn, 

No  refuge  know  we 

But  the  haven  of  our  intent. 

(The  BROTHERS  leave  the  stage.  Enter  their  enemy  NOBU- 
TOSHI,  followed  by  his  Servant.) 

NOBUTOSHI. 

To  the  home  of  gods  my  footsteps  turn 

To  the  Sacred  Fence  that  bars 

No  suppliant's  desire. 

I  am  called  Tone  no  Nobutoshi.  My  home  is  in  the  land  of  Sagami. 
Because  for  much  time  past  I  have  been  troubled  with  evil  dreams,  I 
have  resolved  to  visit  the  Three  Isles  of  Seto. 

(Re-enter  the  Brothers:  MAKING  with  bow  and  arrow  in  his 
hand  and  bamboo  sprigs  stuck  in  his  belt  behind;  the 
BROTHER  carrying  a  long  staff  to  which  a  round  fan  is 
attached.) 

BROTHER. 

A  fine  sight  are  we  now! 
From  priest  and  laic  way  alike  removed, 
Scarce  men  in  speech  or  form! 


168  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

MAKING. 

This  antic  garb  shall  hide  us  from  the  World 

More  safe  than  hermit  cell; 

All  earthly  thoughts  shut  out  here  might  we  bide 

Cloistered  in  ease.     Oh  why, 

Why  back  to  the  bitter  World 

Are  we  borne  by  our  intent? 

MAKING  and  BROTHER. 

The  flower  that  has  fallen  dreams  that  Spring  is  done, 
There  are  white  clouds  to  cover 
The  green  hillside  .  .  . 

MAKING. 

To  match  the  scarlet 
Of  the  autumn  leaves 
Red  sunlight  glitters 
On  the  flowing  stream. 

CHORUS. 

Wind  at  morning,  rain  at  night; 
To-day  and  to-morrow 
Shall  be  part  of  long  ago. 
We  who  pass  through  a  world 
Changeful  as  the  dews  of  evening, 
Uncertain  as  the  skies  of  Spring, 
We  that  are  as  foam  upon  the  stream, — 
Can  any  be  our  foe? 

SERVANT  (seeing  them  and  going  towards  the  hashigakari) . 
You're  a  merry  pair  of  guys1!     What  may  your  names  be? 

BROTHER. 

Floating  Cloud;  Running  Water. 

SERVANT. 

And  what  is  your  friend's  name? 

MAKING. 

Floating  Cloud;  Running  Water. 


THE   HOKA   PRIESTS  169 

SERVANT. 

Have  you  then  but  one  name  between  you? 

BROTHER. 

I  am  Floating  Cloud  and  he  is  Running  Water.  And  now,  pray, 
tell  us  your  master's  name. 

SERVANT. 

Why,  he  comes  from  the  land  of  Sagami,  and  Nobutoshi  .  .  . 
(here  the  SERVANT  suddenly  remembers  that  he  is  being  indiscreet 
and  stuffs  his  hand  into  his  mouth)  ...  is  not  his  name. 

BROTHER. 

That's  no  matter.  Whoever  he  is,  tell  him  that  we  are  only  two 
hoka  come  to  speak  with  him. 

SERVANT. 

I  will  tell  him.     Do  you  wait  here. 

(He  goes  over  to  NOBUTOSHI   and  whispers   with  him9  then 

comes  back  to  the  BROTHERS.) 
Come  this  way. 

(NOBUTOSHI  comes  to  meet  them,  covering  his  face  with  a  fan.) 

NOBUTOSHI. 

Listen,  gentlemen,  I  desire  an  explanation  from  you. 

BROTHER. 
What  would  you  know? 

NOBUTOSHI. 

It  is  this.  They  alone  can  be  called  priests  round  whose  fingers 
is  twisted  the  rosary  of  Tenfold  Power,  who  are  clad  in  cloak  of 
Forbearance,  round  whose  shoulders  hangs  the  stole  of  Penitence. 
Such  is  everywhere  the  garb  of  Buddha's  priests.  I  know  no  other 
habit.  But  you,  I  see,  carry  a  round  fan  tied  to  your  pillar-staff.  By 
what  verse  do  you  justify  the  wearing  of  a  fan? 

BROTHER. 

"In  motion,  a  wind; 
In  stillness,  a  bright  moon." 
And  even  as  in  this  one  substance 


170  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF  JAPAN 

Both  wind  and  moon  inhere, 

So  Thought  alone  is  Truth,  and  from  the  mind 

Spring  all  component  things. 

Such  is  the  sermon  of  the  fan,  as  a  sign  we  bear  it 

Of  the  heart's  omnipotence.     It  is  an  emblem 

Fools  only  would  decry! 

NOBUTOSffl. 

The  fan  indeed  teaches  an  agreeable  lesson;  but  one  of  you  carries 
a  bow  and  arrow  at  his  side.  Are  these  too  reckoned  fit  gear  for  men 
of  your  profession? 

MAKING. 

The  bow?     Why,  surely! 

Are  not  its  two  horns  fashioned 

In  likeness  of  the  Hare  and  Crow, 

Symbols  of  the  Moon  and  Sun,  of  Night  and  Day? 

Here  is  the  primal  mystery  displayed 

Of  fair  and  foul  conjoined.1 

Bears  not  the  God  of  Love,  unsullied  king, 

A  magical  bow?     Does  he  not  stretch  upon  its  string 

Arrows  of  grace  whereby 

The  armies  of  the  Four  Fiends  2  know  no  rest 

CHORUS. 

And  thus  we  two  are  armed, 

For  though  the  bow  be  not  bent  nor  the  arrow  loosed, 

Yet  falls  the  prey  unmasked. 

(MAKINO    draws    his    bow    as    though    about    to    shoot;    his 
BROTHER  checks  him  with  his  staff.) 

So  says  the  song.     Now  speak  no  more 
Of  things  you  know  not  of. 

NOBUTOSHI. 

Tell  me,  pray,  from  which  patriarch  do  the  hoka  priests  derive  their 
doctrine?  To  what  sect  do  you  adhere? 

BROTHER. 

We  are  of  no  sect;  our  doctrine  stands  apart.     It  cannot  be  spoken 

1  The  Sun  is  male,  i.  e.  fair.    The  Moon  female,  i.  e.  foul. 

2  The  demons  of  Delusion,  of  the  Senses,  of  the  Air  and  of  Death. 


THE   HOKA   PRIESTS  171 

nor  expounded.  To  frame  it  in  sentences  is  to  degrade  our  faith;  to 
set  it  down  in  writing  is  to  be  untrue  to  our  Order;  but  by  the  bending 
of  a  leaf  is  the  wind's  journey  known. 

NOBUTOSHI. 

I  thank  you;  your  exposition  delights  me.     Pray  tell  me  now,  what 
is  the  meaning  of  this  word  "Zen"? 

MAKING. 

Within,  to  sound  to  their  depths  the  waters  of  Mystery; 
Without,  to  wander  at  will  through  the  portals  of  Concentration. 

NOBUTOSHI. 

And  of  the  doctrine  that  Buddha  is  in  the  bones  of  each  one  of 
us   .    .    .    ? 

BROTHER. 

He  lurks  unseen;   like  the  golden  dragon1  when  he  leaps  behind 
the  clouds. 

NOBUTOSHI. 

If  we  believe  that  life  and  death  are  real   .    .    . 

BROTHER. 

Then  are  we  caught  in  the  wheel  of  sorrow. 

NOBUTOSHI. 

But  if  we  deny  them   .    .    . 

BROTHER. 

We  are  listed  to  a  heresy.1 

NOBUTOSHI. 

And  the  straight  path  to  knowledge   .    .    . 

MAKINO  (rushing  forward  sword  in  hand). 
"With  the  triple  stroke  is  carved."  » 

1  The  Sun. 

2  The  heresy  of  Nihilism.    To  say  that  phenomena  do  not  exist  is  as  untrue  as 
to  say  that  they  exist 

8  He  quotes  a  Zen  text. 


172  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

Hold!   (turning  to  NOBUTOSHI  who  has  recoiled  and  dra,wn  his 
sword.) 

"To  carve  a  way  to  knowledge  by  the  triple  stroke"   .    .    . 
These  are  Zen  words;  he  was  but  quoting  a  text. 
This  perturbation  does  little  honour  to  your  wits. 

CHORUS. 

Thus  do  men  ever 

Blurt  out  or  blazen  on  the  cheek 

Red  as  rock-rose  *  the  thing  they  would  not  speak. 

Now  by  the  Trinity,  how  foolish  are  men's  hearts! 

SERVANT  (aside). 

While  my  masters  are  fooling,  I'll  to  my  folly  too. 
(He  slips  out  by  the  side  door.) 

BROTHER  (embarking  upon  a  religious  discourse  in  order  to  allay 

NOBUTOSHFS  suspicions). 

It  matters  not  whether  faith  and  words  be  great  or  small, 
Whether  the  law  be  kept  or  broken. 

CHORUS. 

Neither  in  the  "Yea"  nor  "Nay"  is  the  Truth  found; 
There  is  none  but  may  be  saved  at  last. 

BROTHER. 

Not  man  alone;  the  woods  and  fields 
Show  happy  striving. 

CHORUS. 

The  willow  in  his  green,  the  peony 
In  crimson  dressed. 

(The  BROTHER  here  begins   his  first  dance;   like  that  which 
follows,  it  is  a  "shimai"  or  dance  without  instrumental  music.) 

On  mornings  of  green  spring 

When  at  the  valley's  shining  gate 

First  melt  the  hawthorn-warbler's  frozen  tears, 

Or  when  by  singing  foam 

Of  snow-fed  waters  echoes  the  discourse 

Of  neighbourly  frogs; — then  speaks 

"rock,"  also  means  "not  speak." 


THE   HOKA   PRIESTS  173 

The  voice  of  Buddha's  heart. 

Autumn,  by  eyes  unseen, 

Is  heard  in  the  wind's  anger; 

And  the  clash  of  river-reeds,  the  clamorous  descent 

Of  wild-geese  searching 

The  home-field's  face, 

Clouds  shaped  like  leaves  of  rice, — all  these 

To  watchful  eyes  foretell  the  evening  storm. 

He  who  has  seen  upon  a  mountain-side 

Stock-still  beneath  the  moon 

The  young  deer  stand  in  longing  for  his  mate, 

TTiat  man  may  read  the  writing,  and  forget 

The  finger  on  the  page. 

BROTHER. 

Even  so  the  fisher's  boats  that  ride 
The  harbour  of  the  creek, 

CHORUS. 

Bring  back  the  fish,  but  leave  the  net  behind. 

These  things  you  have  heard  and  seen; 

In  the  wind  of  the  hill -top,  in  the  valley's  song, 

In  the  film  of  night,  in  the  mist  of  morning 

Is  it  proclaimed  that  Thought  alone 

Was,  Is  and  Shall  be. 

BROTHER. 

Conceive  this  truth  and  wake! 

As  a  cloud  that  hides  the  moon,  so  Matter  veils 

CHORUS. 

The  face  of  Thought. 

BROTHER  (begins  his  second  dance,  while  the  CHORUS  sings  the 

ballad  used  by  the  "hoka"  players). 
Oh,  a  pleasant  place  is  the  City  of  Flowers; 

CHORUS. 

No  pen  could  write  its  wonders.1 

1  Some  actors,  says  Owada,  here  write  in  the  air  with   their  fan;   but  such 
detailed  miming  is  vulgar. 


174  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

In  the  east,  Gion  and  the  Temple  of  Clear  Waters 

Where  torrents  tumble  with  a  noise  of  many  wings; 

In  the  storm-wind  flutter,  flutter 

The  blossoms  of  the  Earth-lord's  tree.1 

In  the  west,  the  Temple  of  the  Wheel  of  Law, 

The  Shrine  of  Saga  (Turn,  if  thou  wilt, 

Wheel  of  the  Water  Mill!), 

Where   river-waves   dance   on   the   weir 

And  river-willows  by  the  waves  are  chafed; 

Oxen  of  the  City  by  the  wheels  are  chafed; 

And  the  tea-mortar  by  the  pestle  is  chafed. 

Why,  and  I'd  forgot!     In  the  hoka's  hands 

The  kokiriko  2  is  chafed. 

Now  long  may  our  Lord  rule 

Age  notched  on  age,  like  the  notches 

Of  these  gnarled  sticks! 

MAKINO  and  BROTHER. 

Enough!     Why  longer  hide  our  plot? 

(They  draw  their  swords  and  rush  upon  NOBUTOSHI,  who 
places  his  hat  upon  the  ground  and  slips  out  at  the  side- 
door.  The  hat  henceforward  symbolically  represents  NOBU- 
TOSHI, an  actual  representation  of  slaughter  being  thus 
avoided.) 

CHORUS. 

Then  the  brothers  drew  their  swords  and  rushed  upon  him, 
The  foe  of  their  desire. 

fMAKINO  gets  behind  the  hat,  to  signify  that  NOBUTOSHI  is 
surrounded.) 

They  have  scaled  the  summit  of  their  hate, 
The  rancour  of  many  months  and  years. 
The  way  is  open  to  the  bourne  of  their  intent. 

(They  strike.) 

They  have  laid  their  enemy  low. 
So  when  the  hour  was  come 
Did  these  two  brothers 

1  An  allusion  to  the  cherry-trees  at  the  Kiyomizu-dera. 

2  Bamboo-strips  rubbed  together  to  produce  a  squeaking  sound. 


THE    HOKA     PRIESTS  175 

By  sudden  resolution 

Destroy  their  father's  foe. 

For  valour  and  piety  are  their  names  remembered 

Even  in  this  aftertime. 


TIN:   tNGEL  IN  HAGOROMO 


NOTE  ON  HAGOROMO. 

THE  story  of  the  mortal  who  stole  an  angel's  cloak  and  so  prevented 
her  return  to  heaven  is  very  widely  spread.  It  exists,  with  variations 
and  complications,  in  India,  China,  Japan,  the  Liu  Chiu  Islands  and 
Sweden.  The  story  of  Hasan  in  the  Arabian  Nights  is  an  elaboration 
of  the  same  theme. 

The  No  play  is  said  to  have  been  written  by  Seami,  but  a  version 
of  it  existed  long  before.  The  last  half  consists  merely  of  chants 
sung  to  the  dancing.  Some  of  these  (e.  g.  the  words  to  the  Suruga 
Dance)  have  no  relevance  to  the  play,  which  is  chiefly  a  framework 
or  excuse  for  the  dances.  It  is  thus  a  No  of  the  primitive  type,  and 
perhaps  belongs,  at  any  rate  in  its  conception,  to  an  earlier  period 
than  such  unified  dramas  as  Atsumori  or  Kagekiyo.  The  words  of 
the  dances  in  Maiguruma  are  just  as  irrelevant  to  the  play  as  those  of 
the  Suruga  Dance  in  Hagoromo,  but  there  the  plot  explains  and  even 
demands  their  intrusion. 

The  libretto  of  the  second  part  lends  itself  very  ill  to  translation, 
but  I  have  thought  it  best  to  give  the  play  in  full. 


'77 


HAGOROMO 
By    SEAMI 

PERSONS 

HAKURYO  (a  Fisherman).  ANOTHER  FISHERMAN. 

ANGEL.  CHORUS. 

FISHERMAN. 

Loud  the  rowers'  cry 

Who  through  the  storm-swept  paths  of  Mio  Bay 

Ride  to  the  rising  sea. 

HAKURYO. 

I  am  Hakuryo,  a  fisherman  whose  home  is  by  the  pine-woods  of 
Mio. 

BOTH. 

"On  a  thousand  leagues  of  lovely  hill  clouds  suddenly  close; 

But  by  one  tower  the  bright  moon  shines  in  a  clear  sky."  * 

A  pleasant  season,  truly:  on  the  pine-wood  shore 

The  countenance  of  Spring; 

Early  mist  close-clasped  to  the  swell  of  the  sea; 

In  the  plains  of  the  sky  a  dim,  loitering  moon. 

Sweet  sight,  to  gaze  enticing 

Eyes  even  of  us  earth-cumbered 

Low  souls,  least  for  attaining 

Of  high  beauty  nurtured. 

Oh  unforgettable!     By  mountain  paths 

Down  to  the  sea  of  Kiyomi  I  come 

And  on  far  woodlands  look, 

Pine-woods  of  Mio,  thither 

Come,  thither  guide  we  our  course. 

Fishers,  why  put  you  back  your  boats  to  shore, 

No  fishing  done? 

*A  Chinese  couplet  quoted  from  the  Shih  Jen  Yii  Hsieh   ("Jade-dust  of  the 
Poets"),  a  Sung  Dynasty  work  on  poetry  which  was  popular  in  Japan. 

178 


HAGAROMO  179 


Thought  you  them  rising  waves,  those  billowy  clouds 

Wind-blown  across  sea? 

Wait,  for  the  time  is  Spring  and  in  the  trees 

The  early  wind  his  everlasting  song 

Sings  low;  and  in  the  bay 

Silent  in  morning  calm  the  little  ships, 

Ships  of  a  thousand  fishers,  ride  the  sea. 

(The  second  FISHERMAN  retires  to  a  position  near  the  leader 
of  the  CHORUS,  and  takes  no  further  part  in  the  action.) 

HAKURYd 

Now  I  have  landed  at  the  pine-wood  of  Mio  and  am  viewing  the 
beauty  of  the  shore.  Suddenly  there  is  music  in  the  sky,  a  rain 
of  flowers,  unearthly  fragrance  wafted  on  all  sides.  These  are  no 
common  things;  nor  is  this  beautiful  cloak  that  hangs  upon  the  pine- 
tree.  I  come  near  to  it.  It  is  marvellous  in  form  and  fragrance. 
This  surely  is  no  common  dress.  I  will  take  it  back  with  me  and  show 
it  to  the  people  of  my  home.  It  shall  be  a  treasure  in  my  house. 

(He  walks  four  steps   towards   the   WakCs  pillar  carrying  the 
feather  robe.) 

ANGEL  (entering  through  the  curtain  at  the  end  of  the  gallery). 
Stop!     That  cloak  is  mine.     Where  are  you  going  with  it? 

HAKURYO. 

This  is  a  cloak  I  found  here.     I  am  taking  it  home. 

ANGEL 

It  is  an  angel's  robe  of  feathers,  a  cloak  no  mortal  man  may  wear. 
Put  it  back  where  you  found  it. 

HAKURYO. 

How?  Is  the  owner  of  this  cloak  an  angel  of  the  sky?  Why, 
tin MI.  I  will  put  it  in  safe  keeping.  It  shall  be  a  treasure  in  the  land, 
a  marvel  to  men  unborn.1  I  will  not  give  back  your  cloak. 

ANGEL. 

Oh  pitiful!     How  shall  I  cloakless  tread 
The  wing-ways  of  the  air,  how  climb 

1  Masse  here  means,  I  think,  "future  generations,"  not  "this  degraded  age." 


180  THE   NO    PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

The  sky,  my  home? 

Oh,  give  it  back,  in  charity  give  it  back. 

HAKURYO. 

No  charity  is  in  me,  and  your  moan 

Makes  my  heart  resolute. 

Look,  I  take  your  robe,  hide  it,  and  will  not  give  it  back. 

(Describing  his  own  actions.     Then  he  walks  away.) 

ANGEL. 

Like  a  bird  without  wings, 
I  would  rise,  but  robeless 

HAKURYO. 

To  the  low  earth  you  sink,  an  angel  dwelling 
In  the  dingy  world. 

ANGEL. 

This  way,  that  way. 
Despair  only. 

HAKURYO. 

But  when  she  saw  he  was  resolved  to  keep  it  ... 

ANGEL. 

Strength  failing. 

HAKURYO. 
Help  none  .  .  . 

CHORUS. 

Then  on  her  coronet, 

Jewelled  as  with  the  dew  of  tears, 

The  bright  flowers  drooped  and  faded.1 

0  piteous  to  see  before  the  eyes, 
Fivefold  the  signs  of  sickness 
Corrupt  an  angel's  form. 

ANGEL. 

1  look  into  the  plains  of  heaven, 

1  When  an  angel  is  about  to  die,  the  flowers  of  his  crown  wither,  his  feather 
robe  is  stained  with  dust,  sweat  pours  from  under  the  arm-pits,  the  eyelids 
tremble,  he  is  tired  of  his  place  in  heaven. 


HAGOROMO  181 


The  cloud-ways  are  hid  in  mist, 
The  path  is  lost. 

CHORUS. 

Oh,  enviable  clouds, 

At  your  will  wandering 

For  ever  idle  in  the  empty  sky 

That  was  my  home! 

Now  fades  and  fades  upon  my  ear 

The  voice  of  Kalavink,1 

Daily  accustomed  song. 

And  you,  oh  you  I  envy, 

Wild-geese  clamorous 

Down  the  sky-paths  returning; 

And  you,  O  seaward  circling,  shoreward  sweeping 

Swift  seagulls  of  the  bay: 

Even  the  wind,  because  in  heaven  it  blows, 

The  wind  of  Spring  I  envy. 

HAKURYO. 

Listen.     Now  that  I  have  seen  you  in  your  sorrow,  I  yield  and  would 
give  you  back  your  mantle. 

ANGEL. 

Oh,  I  am  happy!     Give  it  me  then! 

HAKURYO. 

Wait.     I  have  heard  tell  of  the  dances  that  are  danced  in  heaven. 
Dance  for  me  now,  and  I  will  give  back  your  robe. 

ANGEL. 

I  am  happy,  happy.     Now  I  shall  have  wings  and  mount  the  sky 

again. 

And  for  thanksgiving  I  bequeath 
A  dance  of  remembrance  to  the  world, 
Fit  for  the  princes  of  men: 
The  dance-tune  that  makes  to  turn 
The  towers  of  the  moon, 

I  will  dance  it  here  and  as  an  heirloom  leave  it 
To  the  sorrowful  men  of  the  world. 

1  The  sacred  bird  of  heaven. 


182  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

Give  back  my  mantle,  I  cannot  dance  without  it. 
Say  what  you  will,  I  must  first  have  back  the  robe. 

HAKURYO. 

Not  yet,  for  if  I  give  back  your  robe,  not  a  step  would  you  dance, 
but  fly  with  it  straight  to  the  sky. 

ANGEL. 

No,  no.     Doubt  is  for  mortals; 
In  heaven  is  no  deceit. 

HAKURYO. 

I  am  ashamed.     Look,  I  give  back  the  robe. 

(He  gives  it  to  her  and  she  takes  it  in  both  hands.) 

ANGEL. 

The  heavenly  lady  puts  on  her  garment, 

She  dances  the  dance  of  the  Rainbow  Skirt,  of  the  Robe  of  Feathers. 

HAKURYO. 

The  sky-robe  flutters;  it  yields  to  the  wind. 

ANGEL. 

Sleeve  like  a  flower  wet  with  rain  .  .  . 

HAKURYO. 

The  first  dance  is  over. 

ANGEL. 

Shall  I  dance? 

CHORUS. 

The  dance  of  Suruga,  with  music  of  the  East? 
Thus  was  it  first  danced. 

(The  ANGEL  dances,  while  the  CHORUS  sings  the  words  of  the 
dance,  an  ancient  Shinto  chant.) 

"Why  name  we 

Wide-stretched    and   everlasting. 

The  sky  of  heaven? 

Two  gods  1  there  came  of  old 

!lzanagi  and  Izanami. 


HAGOROMO  183 


And  built,  upon  ten  sides  shut  in, 
A  measured  world  for  men; 
But  without  limit  arched  they 
The  sky  ahove,  and  named  it 
Wide-stretched  and  everlasting." 

ANGEL. 

Thus  is  the  Moon-God's  palace: 
Its  walls  are  fashioned 
With  an  axe  of  jade. 

CHORUS. 

In  white  dress,  black  dress, 

Thrice  ten  angels 

In  two  ranks  divided, 

Thrice  five  for  the  waning, 

Thrice  five  for  nights  of  the  waxing  moon, 

One  heavenly  lady  on  each  night  of  the  moon 

Does  service  and  fulfils 

Her  ritual  task  assigned. 

ANGEL. 

I  too  am  of  their  number, 
A  moon-lady  of  heaven. 

CHORUS. 

"Mine  is  the  fruit  of  the  moon -tree,1  yet  came  I  to  the  East  incarnate,1 
Dwelt  with  the  people  of  Earth,  and  gave  them 
A  gift  of  music,  song-dance  of  Suruga. 

Now  upon  earth  trail  the  long  mists  of  Spring; 

Who  knows  but  in  the  valleys  of  the  moon 

The  heavenly  moon-tree  puts  her  blossom  on? 

The  blossoms  of  her  crown  win  back  their  glory: 

It  is  the  sign  of  Spring. 

Not  heaven  is  here,  but  beauty  of  the  wind  and  sky. 

Blow,  blow,  you  wind,  and  build 

Cloud-walls  across  the  sky,  lest  the  vision  leave  us 

Of  a  maid  divine! 

This  tint  of  springtime  in  the  woods, 

1  The  "Katsura"  tree,  a  kind  of  laurel  supposed  to  grow  in  the  moon. 

1      "dividing   my   body/*   an   expression    used   of   Buddhist   divinities    that 
detach  a  portion  of  their  godhead  and  incarnate  it  in  some  visible  form. 


184  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

This  colour  on  the  headland, 

Snow  on  the  mountain,1 

Moonlight  on  the  clear  shore, — 

Which  fairest?     Nay,  each  peerless 

At  the  dawn  of  a  Spring  day. 

Waves  lapping,  wind  in  the  pine-trees  whispering 

Along  the  quiet  shore.     Say  you,  what  cause 

Has  Heaven  to  be  estranged 

From  us  Earth-men;  are  we  not  children  of  the  Gods, 

Within,  without  the  jewelled  temple  wall,2 

Born  where  no  cloud  dares  dim  the  waiting  moon, 

Land  of  Sunrise?" 

ANGEL. 

May  our  Lord's  life  , 

Last  long  as  a  great  rock  rubbed 

Only  by  the  rare  trailing 

Of  an  angel's  feather-skirt.3 

Oh,  marvellous  music! 

The  Eastern  song  joined 

To  many  instruments; 

Harp,  zither,  pan-pipes,  flute, 

Belly  their  notes  beyond  the  lonely  clouds. 

The  sunset  stained  with  crimson  light 

From  Mount  Sumeru's  side;4 

For  green,  the  islands  floating  on  the  sea; 

For  whiteness  whirled 

A  snow  of  blossom  blasted 

By  the  wild  winds,  a  white  cloud 

Of  sleeves  waving. 

(Concluding  the  dance,   she   folds   her  hands   and  prays.) 
NAMU  KIMYO  GWATTEN-SHI. 

To  thee,  0  Monarch  of  the  Moon, 

Be  glory  and  praise, 

Thou  son  of  Seishi  Omnipotent!  5 

1  Fuji.  2  The  inner  and  outer  temples  at  Ise. 

8  Quoting  an  ancient  prayer  for  the  Mikado. 

4  Sumeru  is  the  great  mountain  at  the  centre  of  the  universe.  Its  west  side 
is  of  rubies,  its  south  side  of  green  stones,  its  east  side  of  white  stones,  etc. 

15  Called  in  Sanskrit  Mahasthama-prapta,  third  person  of  the  Trinity  sitting 
on  Amida's  right  hand.  The  Moon-God  is  an  emanation  of  this  deity. 


HAGOROMO  185 


CHORUS. 

This  is  a  dance  of  the  East. 

(She  dances  three  of  the  five  parts  of  the  dance  called  "Yo  no 
Mai"  the  Prelude  Dance.) 

ANGEL. 

I  am  robed  in  sky,  in  the  empty  blue  of  heaven. 
CHORUS. 

Now  she  is  robed  in  a  garment  of  mist,  of  Spring  mist. 

ANGEL. 

Wonderful   in  perfume  and  colour,  an  angel's  skirt, — left,   right, 
left,  left,  right. 

(Springing  from  side  to  side.) 

The  skirt  swishes,  the  flowers  nod,  the  feathery  sleeves  trail  out 
and  return,  the  dancing-sleeves. 

(She  dances  "Ha  no  Ma?'  the  Broken  Dance.) 

CHORUS. 

She  has  danced  many  dances, 

But  not  yet  are  they  numbered, 

The  dances  of  the  East. 

And  now  she,  whose  beauty  is  as  the  young  moon, 

Shines  on  us  in  the  sky  of  midnight, 

The  fifteenth  night, 

With  the  beam  of  perfect  fulfilment, 

The  splendor  of  Truth. 

The  vows  *  are  fulfilled,  and  the  land  we  live  in 

Rich  with  the  Seven  Treasures 

By  this  dance  rained  down  on  us, 

The  gift  of  Heaven. 

But,  as  the  hours  pass  by, 

Sky-cloak  of  feathers  fluttering,  fluttering, 

Over  the  pine-woods  of  Mio, 

Past  the  Floating  Islands,  through  the  feet  of  the  clouds  she  flies, 

Over  the  mountain  of  Ashitaka,  the  high  peak  of  Fuji, 

Very  faint  her  form, 

Mingled  with  the  mists  of  heaven; 

Now  lost  to  sight. 

»  Of  Buddha. 


CHAPTER  VI 

TANIKO 
IKENIYE 
HATSUYUKI 
HAKU  RAKUTEN 


NOTE  ON  TANIKO  AND  IKENIYE. 

BOTH  of  these  plays  deal  with  the  ruthless  exactions  of  religion;  in 
each  the  first  part  lends  itself  better  to  translation  than  the  second. 
Taniko  is  still  played;  but  Ikeniye,  though  printed  by  both  Owada 
and  Haga,  has  probably  not  been  staged  for  many  centuries. 

The  pilgrims  of  Taniko  are  Yamabushi,  "mountaineers,"  to  whom 
reference  has  been  made  on  page  33.  They  called  themselves  Shu- 
genja,  "portent-workers,"  and  claimed  to  be  the  knight-errants  of 
Buddhism.  But  their  conduct  seems  to  have  differed  little  from  that 
of  the  Sohei  (armed  monks)  who  poured  down  in  hordes  from  Mount 
Hiyei  to  terrorize  the  inhabitants  of  the  surrounding  country.  Some 
one  in  the  Genji  Monogatari  is  said  to  have  "collected  a  crowd  of 
evil-looking  Yamabushi,  desperate,  stick-at-nothing  fellows." 

Ikeniye,  the  title  of  the  second  play,  means  "Pool  Sacrifice,"  but 
also  "Living  Sacrifice,"  i.  e.  human  sacrifice. 


TANIKO 
(THE      VALLEY- HURLING) 

PART    I 
By    ZENCHIKU 

PERSONS 

A  TEACHER.         A  YOUNG  BOY. 

THE  BOTS  MOTHER.   LEADER  OF  THE  PILGRIMS. 

PILGRIMS.          CHORUS. 

TEACHER. 

I  am  a  teacher.     I  keep  a  school  at  one  of  the  temples  in  the  City 
I  have  a  pupil  whose  father  is  dead;  he  has  only  his  mother  to  look 
after  him.     Now  I  will  go  and  say  good-bye  to  them,  for  I  am  soon 
starting  on  a  journey  to  the  mountains.     (He  knocks  at  the  door  of 
the  house.)     May  I  come  in? 

BOY. 

Who  is  it?     Why,  it  is  the  Master  who  has  come  out  to  see  us! 

TEACHER. 

Why  is  it  so  long  since  you  came  to  my  classes  at  the  temple? 

BOY. 

I  have  not  been  able  to  come  because  my  mother  has  been  ill. 

TEACHER. 

I  had  no  idea  of  that.     Please  tell  her  at  once  that  I  am  here. 

BOY  (calling  into  the  house). 
Mother,  the  Master  is  here. 

MOTHER. 

Ask  him  to  come  in. 

BOY. 

Please  come  in  here. 

190 


TANIKD  191 


TEACHER. 

It  13  a  long  time  since  I  was  here.  Your  son  says  you  have  been 
ill.  Are  you  better  now? 

MOTHER. 

Do  not  worry  about  my  illness.     It  is  of  no  consequence. 

TEACHER. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  I  have  come  to  say  good-bye,  for  I  am 
soon  starting  on  a  ritual  mountain-climbing. 

MOTHER. 

A  mountain-climbing?  Yes,  indeed;  I  have  heard  that  it  is  a 
dangerous  ritual.  Shall  you  take  my  child  with  you? 

TEACHER. 

It  is  not  a  journey  that  a  young  child  could  make. 

MOTHER. 

Well, — I  hope  you  will  come  back  safely. 

TEACHER. 

I  must  go  now. 

BOY. 

I  have  something  to  say. 

TEACHER. 
What  is  it? 

BOY. 

I  will  go  with  you  to  the  mountains. 

TEACHER. 

No,  no.  As  I  said  to  your  mother,  we  are  going  on  a  difficult  and 
dangerous  excursion.  You  could  not  possibly  come  with  us.  Be- 
sides, how  could  you  leave  your  mother  when  she  is  not  well?  Stay 
here.  It  is  in  every  way  impossible  that  you  should  go  with  us. 

BOY. 

Because  my  mother  i*  ill  I  will  go  with  you  to  pray  for  her. 


192  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

TEACHER. 

I  must  speak  to  your  mother  again.  (He  goes  back  into  the  inner 
room.)  I  have  come  back, — your  son  says  he  is  going  to  come  with 
us.  I  told  him  he  could  not  leave  you  when  you  were  ill  and  that  it 
would  be  a  difficult  and  dangerous  road.  I  said  it  was  quite  impos- 
sible for  him  to  come.  But  he  says  he  must  come  to  pray  for  your 
health.  What  is  to  be  done? 

MOTHER. 

I  have  listened  to  your  words.  I  do  not  doubt  what  the  boy  says, 
— that  he  would  gladly  go  with  you  to  the  mountains:  (to  the  BOY) 
but  since  the  day  your  father  left  us  I  have  had  none  but  you  at  my 
side.  I  have  not  had  you  out  of  mind  or  sight  for  as  long  a  time  as 
it  takes  a  dewdrop  to  dry!  Give  back  the  measure  of  my  love.  Let 
your  love  keep  you  with  me. 

BOY. 

This  is  all  as  you  say.  .  .  .  Yet  nothing  shall  move  me  from  my 
purpose.  I  must  climb  this  difficult  path  and  pray  for  your  health 
in  this  life. 

CHORUS. 

They  saw  no  plea  could  move  him. 

Then  master  and  mother  with  one  voice: 

"Alas  for  such  deep  piety, 

Deep  as  our  heavy  sighs." 

The  mother  said, 

"I  have  no  strength  left; 

If  indeed  it  must  be, 

Go  with  the  Master. 

But  swiftly,  swiftly 

Return  from  danger." 

BOY. 

Checking  his  heart  which  longed  for  swift  return 
At  dawn  towards  the  hills  he  dragged  his  feet.1 

1  Here  follows  a  long  lyric  passage  describing  their  journey  and  ascent.  The 
frequent  occurrence  of  place-names  and  plays  of  word  on  such  names  makes  it 
impossible  to  translate. 


TANIKO  193 


TEACHER. 

We  have  climbed  so  fast  that  we  have  already  reached  the  first 
hut.  We  will  stay  here  a  little  while. 

LEADER. 
We  obey. 

BOY. 

I  have  something  to  say. 

TEACHER. 
What  is  it? 

BOY. 

I  do  not  feel  well. 

TEACHER. 

Stay!  Such  things  may  not  be  said  by  those  who  travel  on  errands 
like  ours.  Perhaps  you  are  tired  because  you  are  not  used  to  climb- 
ing. Lie  there  and  rest. 

LEADER. 

They  are  saying  that  the  young  boy  is  ill  with  climbing.  I  must 
ask  the  Master  about  it. 

PILGRIMS. 
Do  so. 

LEADER. 

I  hear  that  this  young  boy  is  ill  with  climbing.  What  is  the  matter 
with  him?  Are  you  anxious  about  him? 

TEACHER. 

He  is  not  feeling  well,  but  there  is  nothing  wrong  with  him.  He  IB 
only  tired  with  climbing. 

LEADER. 

So  you  are  not  troubled  about  him? 

(A  pause.) 

PILGRIM. 
Listen,  you  pilgrims.     Just  now  the  Master  said  this  boy  was  only 


194  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

tired  with  climbing.     But  now  he  is  looking  very  strange.     Ought  we 
not  to  follow  our  Great  Custom  and  hurl  him  into  the  valley? 

LEADER. 

We  ought  to  indeed.  I  must  tell  the  Master.  Sir,  when  I  enquired 
before  about  the  child  you  told  me  he  was  only  tired  with  climbing; 
but  now  he  is  looking  very  strange. 

Though  I  say  it  with  dread,  there  has  been  from  ancient  times  a 
Great  Custom  that  those  who  fail  should  be  cast  down.  All  the 
pilgrims  are  asking  that  he  should  be  thrown  into  the  valley. 

TEACHER. 

What,  you  would  hurl  this  child  into  the  valley? 

LEADER. 
We  would. 

TEACHER. 

It  is  a  Mighty  Custom.  I  cannot  gainsay  it.  But  I  have  great 
pity  in  my  heart  for  that  creature.  I  will  tell  him  tenderly  of  this 
Great  Custom. 

LEADER. 
Pray  do  so. 

TEACHER. 

Listen  carefully  to  me.  It  has  been  the  law  from  ancient  times  that 
if  any  pilgrim  falls  sick  on  such  journey  as  these  he  should  be 
hurled  into  the  valley, — done  suddenly  to  death.  If  I  could  take  your 
place,  how  gladly  I  would  die.  But  now  I  cannot  help  you. 

BOY. 

I  understand.  I  knew  well  that  if  I  came  on  this  journey  I  might 
lose  my  life. 

Only  at  the  thought 

Of  my  dear  mother, 

How  her  tree  of  sorrow 

For  me  must  blossom 

With  flower  of  weeping, — 

I  am  heavy-hearted. 

CHORUS. 

Then  the  pilgrims  sighing 


TANIKO 


195 


For  the  sad  ways  of  the  world 

And  the  bitter  ordinances  of  it, 

Make  ready  for  the  hurling. 

Foot  to  foot 

They  stood  together 

Heaving  blindly, 

None  guiltier  than  his  neighbour. 

And  clods  of  earth  after 

And  flat  stones  they  flung.1 

1  I  have  only  summarized  the  last  chorus.  When  the  pilgrims  reach  the  sum- 
mit, they  pray  to  their  founder,  En  no  Gyoja,  and  to  the  God  Fudo  that  the  boy 
may  be  restored  to  life.  In  answer  to  their  prayers  a  Spirit  appears  carrying  the 
boy  in  her  arms.  She  lays  him  at  the  Priest's  feet  and  vanishes  again,  treading 
the  Invisible  Pathway  that  En  no  Gyoja  trod  when  he  crossed  from  Mount  Kat- 
suragi  to  the  Great  Peak  without  descending  into  the  valley. 


IKENIYE 
(THE     POOL-SACRIFICE) 

PART    I 
By    SEAMI1 

PERSONS 

THE  TRAVELLER.  THE  INNKEEPER. 

HIS  WIFE.  THE  PRIEST. 

HIS  DAUGHTER.  THE  ACOLYTE. 

CHORUS. 

TRAVELLER. 

I  am  a  man  who  lives  in  the  Capital.  Maybe  because  of  some 
great  wrong  I  did  in  a  former  life  ...  I  have  fallen  into  trouble 
and  cannot  go  on  living  here. 

I  have  a  friend  in  the  East  country.  Perhaps  he  would  help  me. 
I  will  take  my  wife  and  child  and  go  at  once  to  the  ends  of  the  East. 

(He  travels  to  the  East,  singing  as  he  goes  a  song  about  the  places 
through  which  he  passes.) 

We  are  come  to  the  Inn.  (Knocks  at  the  door.)  We  are  travellers. 
Pray  give  us  shelter. 

INNKEEPER. 

Lodging,  do  you  say?  Come  in  with  me.  This  way.  Tell  me, 
where  have  you  come  from? 

TRAVELLER. 

I  come  from  the  Capital,  and  I  am  going  down  to  the  East  to  visit 
my  friend. 

INNKEEPER. 

Listen.  I  am  sorry.  There  is  something  I  must  tell  you  privately. 
Whoever  passes  this  night  at  the  Inn  must  go  to-morrow  to  the  draw- 

1  The  play  is  given  in  a  list  of  Seami's  works  composed  on  the  authority 
of  his  great-grandson,  Kwanze  Nagatoshi,  in  1524.  Owada  gives  it  as  anonymous. 

196 


IKENIYE  197 


ing  of  lots  at  the  sacrifice.  I  am  sorry  for  it,  but  you  would  do  best 
to  leave  the  Inn  before  dawn.  Tell  no  one  what  I  have  said,  and 
mind  you  start  early. 

TRAVELLER. 

If  we  may  sleep  here  now  we  will  gladly  start  at  dawn. 

(They  lie  down  and  sleep  in  the  open  courtyard.     After  a  while 
they  rise  and  start  on  their  journey.) 

Enter  the  PRIEST. 
PRIEST. 

Hey!  where  are  you? 

Enter  the  ACOLYTE 
ACOLYTE. 
Here  I  am. 

PRIEST. 

I  hear  that  three  travellers  stayed  at  the  Inn  last  night  and  have 
left  before  dawn.  Go  after  them  and  stop  them. 

ACOLYTE. 

I  listen  and  obey.     Hey,  you  travellers,  go  no  further! 

TRAVELLER. 

Is  it  at  us  you  are  shouting? 

ACOLYTE. 

Yes,  indeed  it  is  at  you. 

TRAVELLER. 

And  why  should  we  stop?     Tell  me  the  reason. 

ACOLYTE. 

He  is  right  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  he  should  ask  the 
reason.  (To  the  TRAVELLER.)  Listen.  Each  year  at  this  place 
there  is  a  sacrifice  at  the  Pool.  To-day  is  the  festival  of  this  holv 
rite,  and  we  ask  you  to  join  in  it. 

TRAVELLER. 

I  understand  you.  But  it  is  for  those  that  live  here,  those  that 
were  born  children  of  this  Deity,  to  attend  his  worship.  Must  a 
wanderer  go  with  you  because  he  chances  to  lodge  here  for  a  night? 


198  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

(He  turns  to  go.) 

ACOLYTE. 

No,  No!     For  all  you  say,  this  will  not  do. 

PRIEST. 

Stay!  Sir,  we  do  not  wonder  that  you  should  think  this  strange. 
But  listen  to  me.  From  ancient  times  till  now  no  traveller  has  ever 
lodged  this  night  of  the  year  at  the  Inn  of  Yoshiwara  without  attend- 
ing the  sacrifice  at  the  Pool.  If  you  are  in  a  hurry,  come  quickly  to 
the  sacrifice,  and  then  with  a  blessing  set  out  again  on  your  journey. 

TRAVELLER. 

I  understand  you.  But,  as  I  have  said,  for  such  rites  as  these  you 
should  take  men  born  in  the  place.  .  .  .  No,  I  still  do  not  under- 
stand. Why  should  a  fleeting  traveller  be  summoned  to  this  Pool- 
Sacrifice? 

PRIEST. 

It  is  a  Great  Custom. 

TRAVELLER. 

That  may  be.  I  do  not  question  that  that  is  your  rule.  But  I  beg 
you,  consider  my  case  and  excuse  me. 

PRIEST. 

Would  you  be  the  first  to  break  a  Great  Custom  that  has  been 
observed  since  ancient  times? 

TRAVELLER. 

No,  that  is  not  what  I  meant.  But  if  we  are  to  discuss  this  matter, 
I  must  be  plain  with  you.  ...  I  am  a  man  of  the  Capital.  Perhaps 
because  of  some  ill  deed  done  in  a  former  life  I  have  suffered  many 
troubles.  At  last  I  could  no  longer  build  the  pathway  of  my  life, 
so  I  took  my  wife  and  child  and  set  out  to  seek  my  friend  who  lives 
in  the  East.  Pray  let  me  go  on  my  way. 

PRIEST. 

""indeed,   indeed   you   have   cause   for    distress.     But   from    ancient 

times  till  now 

Parents  have  been  taken 


IKENIYE  199 


And  countless  beyond  all  knowing 

Wives  and  husbands  parted. 

Call  this,  if  you  will,  the  retribution  of  a  former  life.     But  now  come 
with  us  quickly  to  the  shores  of  the  Holy  Pool. 

(Describing  his   own  actions.) 
So  saying,  the  Priest  and  acolytes  went  forward. 

WIFE  and  DAUGHTER. 

And  the  wife  and  child,  crying  "Oh  what  shall  we  do?"  clutched 
at  the  father's  sleeve. 

TRAVELLER. 

But  the  father  could  find  no  words  to  speak.     He  stood  baffled, 
helpless.  .  .  . 

PRIEST. 

They  must  not  loiter.     Divide  them  and  drive  them  on! 

ACOLYTE. 

So  he  drove  them  before  him  and  they  walked  like  .  .  . 

TRAVELLER. 

If  true  comparison  were  made  .  .  . 

CHORUS. 

Like  guilty  souls  of  the  Dead 

Driven  to  Judgment 

By  fiends  reproachful; 

Whose  hearts  unknowing 

Like  dew  in  day-time 

To  nothing  dwindle. 

Like  sheep  to  shambles 

They  walk  weeping, 

No  step  without  a  tear 

Fill  to  the  Pool  they  come. 

PRIEST. 

Now  we  are  come  to  the  Pool,  and  by  its  edge  are  ranged  the 
Priest,  the  acolytes,  the  virgins  and  dancing-boys. 


200  THE  N5   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

CHORUS. 

There  is  one  doom-lot; 
Yet  those  that  are  thinking 
"Will  it  be  mine?" 
They  are  a  hundred, 
And  many  times  a  hundred. 

PRIEST. 

Embracing,  clasping  hands  .  .  . 

CHORUS. 
Pale-faced 

PRIEST. 

Sinking  at  heart 

CHORUS. 

"On  whom  will  it  fall?" 

Not  knowing,  thick  as  snow, 

White  snow  of  winter  fall  their  prayers 

To  their  clan-gods,  "Protect  us"  .  .  . 

Palm  pressed  to  palm. 

PRIEST. 

At  last  the  Priest  mounted  the  dais,  raised  the  lid  of  the  box  and 
counted  the  lots  to  see  that  there  was  one  for  each  to  take. 

CHORUS. 

Then  all  the  people  came  forward 

To  draw  their  lots. 

And  each  when  he  unfolded  his  lot 

And  found  it  was  not  the  First, 

How  glad  he  was! 

But  the  traveller's  daughter, 

Knowing  her  fate, 

Fell  weeping  to  the  earth. 

PRIEST. 

Are  there  not  three  travellers?  They  have  only  drawn  two  lots. 
The  First  Lot  is  still  undrawn.  Tell  them  that  one  of  them  must  draw 
it. 


I  K  E  N  I  Y  E  201 


ACOLYTE. 

I  listen  and  obey.  Ho,  you  travellers,  it  is  to  you  I  am  speaking. 
There  are  three  of  you,  and  you  have  only  drawn  two  lots.  The 
Priest  says  one  of  you  must  draw  the  First  Lot. 

TRAVELLER. 

We  have  all  drawn. 

ACOLYTE. 

No,  I  am  sure  the  young  girl  has  not  drawn  her  lot.  Look,  here 
it  is.  Yes,  and  it  is  the  Doom-lot! 

WIFE. 

The  First  Lot!     How  terrible! 

Hoping  to  rear  you  to  womanhood,  we  wandered  blindly  from 
the  City  and  came  down  to  the  unknown  country  of  the  East.  For 
your  sake  we  set  our  hearts  on  this  sad  journey.  If  you  are  taken, 
what  will  become  of  us?  How  hideous! 

DAUGHTER. 

Do  not  sob  so!  If  you  or  my  father  had  drawn  this  lot,  what 
should  I  have  done?  But  now  it  has  fallen  to  me,  and  it  is  hard 
for  you  to  let  me  go. 

TRAVELLER. 

What  brave  words!  "If  you  or  my  father  had  drawn  this  lot  .  .  ." 
There  is  great  piety  in  that  saying.  (To  his  WIFE.)  Come,  do  not 
sob  so  before  all  these  people.  We  are  both  parents  and  must  have 
like  feelings.  But  from  the  time  I  set  out  to  this  holy  lottery  some- 
thing told  me  that  of  the  three  of  us  one  would  be  taken.  Look! 
I  am  not  crying. 

WIFE. 

I  thought  as  you  did,  yet  ... 

It  is  too  much!     Can  it  all  be  real? 

TRAVELLER. 

The  father  said  "I  will  not  show  weakness,"  yet  while  he  was  speak- 
bravely 

Because  she  was  his  dear  daughter 
lli>  secret  tears 
Could  not  be  checked. 


202  THE   NO    PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

WIFE. 

Is  this  a  dream  or  is  it  real? 

(She  clings  to  the  daughter,  wailing.) 

PRIEST. 

Because  the  time  had  come 
The  Priest  and  his  men 
Stood  waiting  on  the  shore 

CHORUS. 

They  decked  the  boat  with  ribands 
And  upon  a  bed  of  water-herbs 
They  laid  the  maiden  of  the  Pool. 

PRIEST. 

The  priest  pulled  the  ribands 
And  spoke  the  words  of  prayer. 

[In  the  second  part  of  the  play  the  dragon  of  the  Pool  is  appeased  and  the 
girl  restored  to  life.] 


HATSUYUKI 
(EARLY  SNOW) 

By  KOPARU  ZEMBO  MOTOYASU  (1453-1532). 

PERSONS 

EVENING  MIST,  a  servant  girl. 

A  LADY,  the  Abbot's  daughter. 

TWO  NOBLE  LADIES. 

THE  SOUL  OF  THE  BIRD  HATSUYUKI  ("Early  Snow'9). 

CHORUS. 

SCENE:     The  Great  Temple  at  Izumo. 

SERVANT. 

I  am  a  servant  at  the  Nyoroku  Shrine  in  the  Great  Temple  of 
Izumo.  My  name  is  Evening  Mist.  You  must  know  that  the  Lord 
Abbot  has  a  daughter,  a  beautiful  lady  and  gentle  as  can  be.  And 
she  keeps  a  tame  bird  that  was  given  her  a  year  ago,  and  because  it 
was  a  lovely  white  bird  she  called  it  Hatsuyuki,  Early  Snow;  and 
she  loves  it  dearly. 

I  have  not  seen  the  bird  to-day.  I  think  I  will  go  to  tta  bird-cage 
and  have  a  look  at  it. 

(She,  goes  to  the  cage.) 

Mercy  on  us,  the  bird  is  not  there!  Whatever  shall  I  say  to  my 
lady?  But  I  shall  have  to  tell  her.  I  think  I'll  tell  her  now.  Madam, 
madam,  your  dear  Snow-bird  is  not  here! 

LADY. 

What  is  that  you  say?  Early  Snow  is  not  there?  It  cannot  be 
true. 

(She  goes  to  the  cage.) 

It  is  true.  Early  Snow  has  gone!  How  can  that  be?  How  can 
it  be  that  my  pretty  one  that  was  so  tame  should  vanish  and  leave 

MO  trace? 


204  THE  N<5  PLAYS  OF  JAPAN 

Oh  bitterness  of  snows 

That  melt  and  disappear! 

Now  do  I  understand 

The  meaning  of  a  midnight  dream 

That  lately  broke  my  rest. 

A   harbinger  it   was 

Of  Hatsuyuki's  fate. 

(She  bursts  into  tears.) 

CHORUS. 

Though  for  such  tears  and  sighs 

There  be  no  cause, 

Yet  came  her  grief  so  suddenly, 

Her  heart's  fire  is  ablaze; 

And  all  the  while 

Never  a  moment  are  her  long  sleeves  dry. 

They  say  that  written  letters  first  were  traced 

By  feet  of  birds  in  sand 

Yet  Hatsuyuki  leaves  no  testament. 

(They  mourn.) 

CHORUS    ("kuse"  chant,   irregular  verse  accompanied  by  dancing). 
How  sad  to  call  to  mind 
When  first  it  left  the  breeding-cage 
So  fair  of  form 
And  coloured  white  as  snow. 
We  called  it  Hatsuyuki,  "Year's  First  Snow." 
And  where  our  mistress  walked 
It  followed  like  a  shadow  at  her  side. 
But  now  alas !  it  is  a  bird  of  parting 1 
Though  not  in  Love's  dark  lane. 

LADY. 

There's  no  help  now.     (She  weeps  bitterly.) 

CHORUS. 

Still  there  is  one  way  left.     Stop  weeping,  Lady, 

And  turn  your  heart  to  him  who  vowed  to  hear. 

The  Lord  Amida,  if  a  prayer  be  said— 

Who  knows  but  he  can  bring 

1  "Wakare  no  tori,"  the  bird  which  warns  lovers  of  the  approach  of  day. 


HATSUYUKI  205 


Even  a  bird's  soul  into  Paradise 
And  set  it  on  the  Lotus  Pedestal?  l 

LADY. 

Evening  Mist,  are  you  not  sad  that  Hatsuyuki  has  gone?  .  .  .  But 
we  must  not  cry  any  more.  Let  us  call  together  the  noble  ladies  of 
this  place  and  for  seven  days  sit  with  them  praying  behind  barred 
doors.  Go  now  and  do  my  bidding. 

(EVENING  MIST  fetches  the  NOBLE  LADIES  of  the  place). 

TWO  NOBLE  LADIES  (together). 
A  solemn  Mass  we  sing 
A  dirge  for  the  Dead; 
At  this  hour  of  heart-cleansing 
We  beat  on  Buddha's  gong. 

(They  pray.) 

NAMU  AMIDA  BUTSU 
NAMU  NYORAI 

Praise  to  Amida  Buddha, 

Praise  to  Mida  our  Saviour! 

(The  prayers  and  gong-beating  last  for  some  time  and  form  the 
central  ballet  of  the  play.) 

CHORUS   (the  bird's  soul  appears  as  a  white  speck  in  the  sky). 
Look!     Look!     A  cloud  in  the  clear  mid-sky! 
But  it  is  not  a  cloud. 
With  pure  white  wings  beating  the  air 
The  Snow-bird  comes! 
Flying  towards  our  lady 
Lovingly  he  hovers, 
Dances  before  her. 

THE  BIRD'S  SOUL. 

Drawn  by  the  merit  of  your  prayers  and  songs 

CHORUS. 

Straightway  he  was  reborn  in  Paradise. 

By  the  pond  of  Eight  Virtues  he  walks  abroad: 

With  the  Phoenix  and  Fugan  his  playtime  passing. 

1  Turn  it  into  a 


206  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

He  lodges  in  the  sevenfold  summit  of  the  trees  of  Heaven. 
No  hurt  shall  harm  him 
For  ever  and  ever. 

Now  like  the  tasselled  doves  we  loose 

From  battlements  on  holy  days 

A  little  while  he  flutters; 

Flutters  a  little  while  and  then  is  gone 

We  know  not  where. 


HAKU    RAKUTEN 
By    SEAMI 

INTRODUCTION 

THE  Chinese  poet  Po  Chii-i,  whom  the  Japanese  call  Haku  Rakuten, 
was  born  in  772  A.  D.  and  died  in  847.  His  works  enjoyed  immense 
contemporary  popularity  in  China,  Korea  and  Japan.  In  the  second 
half  of  the  ninth  century  the  composition  of  Chinese  verse  became 
fashionable  at  the  Japanese  Court,  and  native  forms  of  poetry  were 
for  a  time  threatened  with  extinction. 

The  No  play  Haku  Rakuten  deals  with  this  literary  peril.  It  was 
written  at  the  end  of  the  fourteenth  century,  a  time  when  Japanese  art 
and  literature  were  again  becoming  subject  to  Chinese  influence. 
Painting  and  prose  ultimately  succumbed,  but  poetry  was  saved. 

Historically,  Haku  Rakuten  never  came  to  Japan.  But  the  danger 
of  his  influence  was  real  and  actual,  as  may  be  deduced  from  reading 
the  works  of  Sugawara  no  Michizane,  the  greatest  Japanese  poet  of 
the  ninth  century.  Michizane's  slavish  imitations  of  Po  Chii-i  show 
an  unparalleled  example  of  literary  prostration.  The  plot  of  the 
play  is  as  follows: 

Rakuten  is  sent  by  the  Emperor  of  China  to  "subdue"  Japan  with 
his  art.  On  arriving  at  the  coast  of  Bizen,  he  meets  with  two 
Japanese  fishermen.  One  of  them  is  in  reality  the  god  of  Japanese 
poetry,  Sumiyoshi  no  Kami.  In  the  second  act  his  identity  is  revealed. 
He  summons  other  gods,  and  a  great  dancing-scene  ensues.  Finally 
the  wind  from  their  dancing-sleeves  blows  the  Chinese  poet's  ship 
back  to  his  own  country. 

Seami,  in  his  plays,  frequently  quotes  Po  Chu-i's  poems;  and  in 
his  lament  for  the  death  of  his  son,  Zemparu  Motomasa,  who  died  in 
1432,  he  refers  to  the  death  of  Po  Chii-i's  son,  A-ts'ui. 

PERSONS 

RAKUTEN  (a  Chinese  poet). 

AN  OLD  FISHERMAN,  SUMIYOSHI  NO  KAMI,  who  in  Act  II  be- 

comes  the  God  of  Japanese  Poetry. 
ANOTHER  FISHERMAN. 
CHORUS  OF  FISHERMEN. 

207 


208  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

SCENE:     The  coast  of  Bizen  in  Japan. 

HAKU. 

I   am  Haku  Rakuten,  a  courtier  of  the  Prince   of  China.     There 
is  a  land  in  the  East  called  Nippon.1     Now,  at  my  master's  bidding, 
I  am  sent  to  that  land  to  make  proof  of  the  wisdom  of  its  people. 
I  must  travel  over  the  paths  of  the  sea. 
I  will  row  my  boat  towards  the  rising  sun, 

The  rising  sun; 

And  seek  the  country  that  lies  to  the  far  side 
Over  the  wave-paths  of  the  Eastern  Sea. 
Far  my  boat  shall  go, 
My  boat  shall  go, — 

With  the  light  of  the  setting  sun  in  the  waves  of  its  wake 
And  a  cloud  like  a  banner  shaking  the  void  of  the  sky. 
Now  the  moon  rises,  and  on  the  margin  of  the  sea 

A  mountain  I  discern. 
I  am  come  to  the  land  of  Nippon, 

The  land  of  Nippon. 

So  swiftly  have  I  passed  over  the  ways  of  the  ocean  that  I  am 
come  already  to  the  shores  of  Nippon.  I  will  cast  anchor  here  a  little 
while.  I  would  know  what  manner  of  land  this  may  be. 

THE  TWO  FISHERMEN  (together). 
Dawn  over  the  Sea  of  Tsukushi, 

Place  of  the  Unknown  Fire. 
Only  the  moonlight — nothing  else  left! 

THE  OLD  FISHERMAN. 

The  great  waters  toss  and  toss; 
The  grey  waves  soak  the  sky. 

THE  TWO  FISHERMEN. 

So  was  it  when  Han  Rei 2  left  the  land  of  Etsu 

1  The  fact  that  Haku  is  a  foreigner  is  conventionally  emphasized  by  his  pro- 
nunciation of  this  word.     The  fishermen,  when  using  the  same  word  later  on, 
called  it  "Nihon." 

2  The  Chinese  call  him  Fan  Li.     He  lived  in  China  in  the  fifth  century  B.  c. 
Having  rendered   important  services   to  the   country  of  Yueh    (Etsu),   he  went 
off  with  his  mistress  in  a  skiff,  knowing  that  if  he  remained  in  public  life  his 
popularity  was  bound  to  decline.     The  Fishermen  are  vaguely  groping  towards 
the  idea  of  "a  Chinaman"  and  a  "boat."    They  are  not  yet  consciously  aware 
of  the  arrival  of  Rakuten, 


HAKU   RAKUTEN  209 

And  rowed  in  a  little  boat 
Over  the  misty  waves  of  the  Five  Lakes. 

How  pleasant  the  sea  looks! 
From  the  beach  of  Matsura 
Westward  we  watch  the  hill-less  dawn. 
A  cloud,  where  the  moon  is  setting, 
Floats  like  a  boat  at  sea, 

A  boat  at  sea 

That  would  anchor  near  us  in  the  dawn. 
Over  the  sea  from  the  far  side, 
From  China  the  journey  of  a  ship's  travel 
Is  a  single  night's  sailing,  they  say. 
And  lo!  the  moon  has  vanished! 

HAKU. 

I  have  borne  with  the  billows  of  a  thousand  miles  of  sea  and  come 
at  last  to  the  land  of  Nippon.  Here  is  a  little  ship  anchored  near 
me.  An  old  fisherman  is  in  it.  Can  this  be  indeed  an  inhabitant  of 

Nippon? 

OLD  FISHERMAN. 

Aye,  so  it  is.  I  am  an  old  fisher  of  Nihon.  And  your  Honour,  I 
think,  is  Haku  Rakuten,  of  China. 

HAKU. 

How  strange!  No  sooner  am  I  come  to  this  land  than  they  call  me 
by  my  name!  How  can  this  be? 

SECOND  FISHERMAN. 

Although  your  Honour  is  a  man  of  China,  your  name  and  fame  have 
come  before  you. 

HAKU. 

Even  though  my  name  be  known,  yet  that  you  should  know  my 
face  is  strange  surely! 

THE  TWO  FISHERMEN. 

It  was  said  everywhere  in  the  Land  of  Sunrise  that  your  Honour, 
Rakuten,  would  come  to  make  trial  of  the  wisdom  of  Nihon.  And 
when,  as  we  gazed  westwards,  we  saw  a  boat  coming  in  from  the  open 
sea,  the  hearts  of  us  all  thought  in  a  twinkling,  'This  is  he." 


210  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

CHORUS. 

"He  has  come,  he  has  come." 

So  we  cried  when  the  boat  came  in 

To  the  shore  of  Matsura, 

The  shore  of  Matsura. 

Sailing  in  from  the  sea 

Openly  before  us — 

A  Chinese  ship 

And  a  man  from   China, — 

How  could  we  fail  to  know  you, 

Haku  Rakuten? 

But  your  halting  words  tire  us. 
Listen  as  we  will,  we  cannot  understand 

Your  foreign  talk. 
Come,  our  fishing-time   is  precious. 

Let  us  cast  our  hooks, 

Let  us  cast  our  hooks! 

HAKU. 


rlAKU. 

Stay!     Answer  me  one  question.1     Bring  your  boat  closer  and  tell 
me,  Fisherman,  what  is  your  pastime  now  in  Nippon? 

FISHERMAN. 

And  in   the  land   of   China,  pray  how  do   your   Honours   disport 
yourselves? 

HAKU. 

In  China  we  play  at  making  poetry. 

FISHERMAN. 

And   in   Nihon,   may  it  please   you,   we  venture  on  the  sport   of 

alrino-    "nta  "  2 


making  "uta."2 

HAKU. 
And  what  are  "uta"? 


FISHERMAN. 

You  in  China  make  your  poems)  and  odes1  out  of  the  Scriptures  of 

1  Haku  throughout  omits  the  honorific  turns  of  speech  which  civility  demands. 
The   Fishermen    speak    in   elaborately   deferential   and    honorific   language.     The 
writer  wishes  to  portray  Haku  as  an  ill-bred  foreigner. 

2  "Uta,"  i.  e.  the  thirty-one  syllable  Japanese  stanza. 


HAKU  RAKUTEN  211 

India;  and  we  have  made  our  "uta"  out  of  the  poems  and  odes  of 
China.  Since  then  our  poetry  is  a  blend  of  three  lands,  we  have 
named  it  Yamato,  the  great  Blend,  and  all  our  songs  "Yamato  Uta." 
But  I  think  you  question  me  only  to  mock  an  old  man's  simplicity. 

HAKU. 

No,  truly;  that  was  not  my  purpose.  But  come,  I  will  sing  a 
Chinese  poem  about  the  scene  before  us. 

"Green  moss  donned  like  a  cloak 
Lies  on  the  shoulders  of  the  rocks; 
White  clouds  drawn  like  a  belt 
Surround  the  flanks  of  the  mountains." 

How  does  that  song  please  you? 

FISHERMAN. 

It  is  indeed  a  pleasant  verse.  In  our  tongue  we  should  say  the 
poem  thus: 

Koke-goromo 
Kitaru  iwao  ma 
Samonakute, 
Kinu  kinu  yama  no 
Obi  wo  sum  kana! 

HAKU. 

How  strange  that  a  poor  fisherman  should  put  my  verse  into  a 
sweet  native  measure!  Who  can  he  be? 

FISHERMAN. 

A  poor  man  and  unknown.  But  as  for  the  making  of  "uta,"  it  is  not 
only  men  that  make  them.  "For  among  things  that  live  there  is  none 
that  has  not  the  gift  of  song."  l 

HAKU  (taking  up  the  other's  words  as  if  hypnotized). 

"Among  things  that  have  life, — yes,  and  birds  and  insects — " 

FISHERMAN. 

They  have  sung  Yamato  songs. 

1  Quotation  from  the  Preface  to  the  Kokinshfi  ("Collection  of  Songs  Ancient 
and  Modern").  The  fact  that  Haku  continues  the  quotation  •hows  that  he  is 
under  a  sort  of  spell  and  makes  it  clear  for  the  first  time  that  his  interlocutor  is 
not  an  ordinary  mortal.  From  this  point  onwards,  in  fact,  the 
gradually  become*  ft  God 


212  THE  NO   PLAYS  OF  JAPAN 

HAKU. 

In  the  land  of  Yamato  .  .  . 

FISHERMAN. 

.  .  .  many  such  have  been  sung. 

CHORUS. 

"The  nightingale  singing  on  the  bush, 
Even  the  frog  that  dwells  in  the  pond 


I  know  not  if  it  be  in  your  Honour's  land, 
But  in  Nihon  they  sing  the  stanzas  of  the  "uta." 
And  so  it  comes  that  an  old  man 
Can  sing  the  song  you  have  heard, 
A  song  of  great  Yamato. 

CHORUS  (changing  the  chant). 

And  as  for  the  nightingale  and  the  poem  it  made, — 

They  say  that  in  the  royal  reign 

Of  the  Emperor  Koren 

In  the  land  of  Yamato,  in  the  temple  of  High  Heaven 

A  priest  was  dwelling.1 

Each  year  at  the  season  of  Spring 

There  came  a  nightingale 

To  the  plum-tree  at  his  window. 

And  when  he  listened  to  its  song 

He  heard  it  singing  a  verse: 

"Sho-yo  mei-cho  rai 
Fu-so  gem-bon  set." 

And  when  he  wrote  down  the  characters, 
Behold,  it  was  an  "uta"-song 
Of  thirty  letters  and  one. 
And  the  words  of  the  song — 

FISHERMAN. 

Hatsu-haru  no  Of  Spring's  beginning 

Ashita  goto  ni  wa  At  each  dawn 

Kitaredomo  Though  I  come, 

CHORUS. 

A  wade  zo  kaeru  Unmet  I  return 

Moto  no  sumika  ni.  To  my  old  nest. 

lfThe  priest's  acolyte  had  died.    The  nightingale  was  the  boy's  soul. 


HAKU   RAKUTEN  213 

Thus  first  the  nightingale, 

And  many  birds  and  beasts  thereto, 

Sing  "uta,"  like  the  songs  of  men. 

And  instances  are  many; 

Many  as  the  myriad  pebbles  that  lie 

On  the  shore  of  the  sea  of  Ariso. 

"For  among  things  that  live 

There  is  none  that  has  not  the  gift  of  song." 

Truly  the  fisherman  has  the  ways  of  Yamato  in  his  heart.     Truly, 
this  custom  is  excellent. 

FISHERMAN. 

If  we  speak  of  the  sports  of  Yamato  and  sing  its  songs,  we  should 
show  too  what  dances  we  use;  for  there  are  many  kinds. 

CHORUS. 

Yes,  there  are  the  d^ces;  but  there  is  no  one  to  dance. 

FISHERMAN. 

Though  there  be  no  dancer,  yet  even  I—- 
CHORUS. 

For  drums — the  beating  of  the  waves. 

For  flutes — the  song  of  the  sea-dragon. 

For  dancer — this  ancient  man 

Despite  his  furrowed  brow 

Standing  on  the  furrowed  sea 

Floating  on  the  green  waves 

Shall  dance  the  Sea  Green  Dance. 

FISHERMAN. 

And  the  land  of  Reeds  and  Rushes-  .  .  . 

CHORUS. 

Ten  thousand  years  our  land  inviolate! 

[The  rest  of  the  play  u  a  kind  of  "bailer;   the  words  arc  merely  a  com- 
mentary on  the  dance*.] 


214  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

ACT  II. 

FISHERMAN   (transformed  into  SUMIYOSHI  NO  KAMI,  the  God 

of  Poetry). 

Sea  that  is  green  with  the  shadow  of  the  hills  in  the  water! 
Sea  Green  Dance,  danced  to  the  beating  of  the  waves. 

(He  dances  the  Sea  Green  Dance.) 

Out  of  the  wave-lands, 

Out  of  the  fields  of  the  Western  Sea 

CHORUS. 

He  rises  before  us, 
The  God  of  Sumiyoshi, 
The  God  of  Sumiyoshi! 

THE  GOD. 

I  rise  before  you 
The  god— 

CHORUS. 

The  God  of  Sumiyoshi  whose  strength  is  such 
That  he  will  not  let  you  subdue  us,  0  Rakuten! 
So  we  bid  you  return  to  your  home, 
Swiftly  over  the  waves  of  the  shore! 
First  the  God  of  Sumiyoshi  came. 
Now  other  gods  x  have  come — 

Of  Ise  and  Iwa-shimizu, 

Of  Kamo  and  Kasuga, 

Of  Ka-shima  and  Mi-shima, 

Of  Suwa  and  Atsuta. 

And  the  goddess  of  the  Beautiful  Island, 
The  daughter  of  Shakara 
King  of  the  Dragons  of  the  Sea — 
Skimming  the  face  of  the  waves 
They  have  danced  the  Sea  Green  Dance. 
And  the  King  of  the  Eight  Dragons — 
With  his  Symphony  of  Eight  Musics. 
As  they  hovered  over  the  void  of  the  sea, 
Moved  in  the  dance,  the  sleeves  of  their  dancing-dress 

1  They  do  not  appear  on  the  stage. 


HAKU  RAKUTEN  215 

Stirred  up  a  wind,  a  magic  wind 
That  blew  on  the  Chinese  boat 
And  filled  its  sails 

And  sent  it  back  again  to  the  land  of  Han. 
Truly,  the  God  is  wondrous; 
The  God   is  wondrous,  and  thou,  our  Prince, 
Mayest  thou  rule  for  many,  many  years 
Our  Land  Inviolate! 


l/i  TSI: 


CHAPTER  VII 

SUMMARIES 
1ZUTSU 
KAKITSUBATA 
HANAKATAMI 
OMINAMESHI 
MATSUKAZE 
SHUNKWAN 
AMA 

TAKE  NO  YUKI 
TORI-OI 
YUYA 

TANGO-MONOGURUI 
IKKAKU  SENNIN 
YAMAUBA 
HOTOKE  NO  KARA 
MARI 
T(5RU 
MAI-GURUMA 


SUMMARIES 

OF  the  plays  which  are  founded  on  the  he  Monogatari1  the  best 
known  are  Izutsu  and  Kakitsubata,  both  by  Seami.  Izutsu  is  founded 
on  the  episode  which  runs  as  follows: 

Once  upon  a  time  a  boy  and  a  girl,  children  of  country  people, 
used  to  meet  at  a  well  and  play  there  together.  When  they  grew  up 
they  became  a  little  shame-faced  towards  one  another,  but  he  could 
think  of  no  other  woman,  nor  she  of  any  other  man.  He  would  not 
take  the  wife  his  parents  had  found  for  him,  nor  she  the  husband 
that  her  parents  had  found  for  her. 

Then  he  sent  her  a  poem  which  said: 

"Oh,  the  well,  the  well! 
I  who  scarce  topped  the  well-frame 
Am  grown  to  manhood  since  we  met." 

And  she  to  him: 

"The  two  strands  of  my  hair 
That  once  with  yours  I  measured, 
Have  passed  my  shoulder; 
Who  but  you  should  put  them  up?"2 

So  they  wrote,  and  at  last  their  desire  was  fulfilled.  Now  after  a  year 
or  more  had  passed  the  girl's  parents  died,  and  they  were  left  without 
sustenance.  They  could  not  go  on  living  together;  the  man  went  to 
and  fro  between  her  house  and  the  town  of  Takayasu  in  Kawachi, 
while  she  stayed  at  home. 

Now  when  he  saw  that  she  let  him  go  gladly  and  showed  no  grief 
in  her  face,  he  thought  it  was  because  her  heart  had  changed.  And 
one  day,  instead  of  going  to  Kawachi,  he  hid  behind  the  hedge  and 
watched.  Then  he  heard  the  girl  singing: 

"The  mountain  of  Tatsuta  that  rises 

Steep  as  a  wave  of  the  sea  when  the  wind  blows 

To-night  my  lord  will  be  crossing  all  alone!" 

And  he  was  moved  by  her  song,  and  went  no  more  to  Takayasu  in 

Kawachi. 

'The  love-adventure*  of  Narihira    (825-880  A.D.)    in   125  episodes,  supposed 
to  have  been  written  by  Narihira  hinv« 
2  The  husband  puts  up  the  bride's  hair. 

210 


220  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

In  the  play  a  wandering  priest  meets  with  a  village  girl,  who  turns 
out  to  be  the  ghost  of  the  girl  in  this  story.  The  text  is  woven  out  of 
the  words  of  the  Ise  Monogatari. 

Kakitsubata  is  based  on  the  eighth  episode.  Narihira  and  his  com- 
panions come  to  a  place  called  Yatsuhashi,  where,  across  an  iris- 
covered  swamp,  zigzags  a  low  footpath  of  planks. 

Narihira  bids  them  compose  an  anagram  on  the  work  Kakitsubata, 
"iris,"  and  some  one  sings: 

"£ara-goromo 
£i-tsutsu  nare-ni-shi 
Tsuma  shi  areba 
#oru-baru   ki-nuru 
7"abi   wo   shi   zo   omou." 

The  first  syllables  of  each  line  make,  when  read  consecutively,  the 
word  Kakitsubata,  and  the  poem,  which  is  a  riddle  with  many  mean- 
ings, may  be  translated: 

"My  lady's  love 

Sat  close  upon  me  like  a  coat  well  worn; 
And  surely  now 
Her  thoughts  go  after  me  down  this  long  road!" 

"When  he  had  done  singing,  they  all  wept  over  their  dried-rice  till 
it  grew  soppy." 

In  the  play,  a  priest  comes  to  this  place  and  learns  its  story  from 
a  village-girl,  who  turns  out  to  be  the  "soul  of  the  iris-flower."  At 
the  end  she  disappears  into  the  Western  Paradise.  "Even  the  souls 
of  flowers  can  attain  to  Buddhahood." 


HANAKATAMI 

(THE    FLOWER    BASKET) 

By    KWANAMI;    REVISED    BY    SEAMI 

BEFORE  he  came  to  the  throne,  the  Emperor  Keitai l  loved  the  Lady 
Teruhi.  On  his  accession  he  sent  her  a  letter  of  farewell  and  a 
basket  of  flowers.  In  the  play  the  messenger  meets  her  on  the  road 
to  her  home;  she  reads  the  letter,  which  in  elaborately  ceremonial 
language  announces  the  Emperor's  accession  and  departure  to  the 
Capital. 

TERUHI. 

The  Spring  of  our  love  is  passed!     Like  a  moon  left  lonely 
In  the  sky  of  dawn,  back  to  the  hills  I  go, 
To  the  home  where  once  we  dwelt. 

(She  slips  quietly  from  the  stage,  carrying  the  basket  and  letter. 
In  the  next  scene  the  EMPEROR  2  is  carried  on  to  the  stage 
in  a  litter  borne  by  two  attendants.  It  is  the  coronation 
procession.  Suddenly  TERUHI,  who  has  left  her  home  dis- 
fraught,  wanders  on  to  the  stage  followed  by  her  maid,  who 
carries  the  flower-basket  and  letter.) 

TERUHI  (speaking  wildly). 

Ho,   you  travellers!     Show  me  the   road  to  the   Capital!     I    am 

mad,  you  say? 

Mad  I  may  be;  but  love  bids  me  ask.     0  heartless  ones!  why  will 
they  not  answer  me? 

MAID. 

Madam,  from  these  creatures  we  shall  get  no  answer.  Yet  there 
is  a  sign  that  will  guide  our  steps  to  the  City.  Look,  yonder  the 
wild-geese  are  passing! 

» Reigned  507-531. 

2  In  this  play  as  in  all  the  part  of  Emperor  is  played  by  a  young  boy  or 
"child-actor.** 

221 


222  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

TERUHI. 

Oh  well-remembered!     For  southward  ever 

The  wild-geese  pass 

Through  the  empty  autumn  sky;  and  southward  lies 

The  city  of  my  lord. 

Then  follows  the  "song  of  travel,"  during  which  Teruhi  and  her 
companion  are  supposed  to  be  journeying  from  their  home  in  Echizen 
to  the  Capital  in  Yamato.  They  halt  at  last  on  the  hashigakari, 
announcing  that  they  have  "arrived  at  the  City."  Just  as  a  courtier 
(who  together  with  the  boy-Emperor  and  the  two  litter-bearers  repre- 
sents the  whole  coronation  procession)  is  calling:  "Clear  the  way, 
clear  the  way!  The  Imperial  procession  is  approaching,"  Teruhi's 
maid  advances  on  to  the  stage  and  crosses  the  path  of  the  procession. 
The  courtier  pushes  her  roughly  back,  and  in  doing  so  knocks  the 
flower-basket  to  the  ground. 

MAID. 

Oh,  look  what  he  has  done!  0  madam,  he  has  dashed  your  basket 
to  the  ground,  the  Prince's  flower-basket! 

TERUHI. 

What!  My  lord's  basket?  He  has  dashed  it  to  the  ground?  Oh 
hateful  deed! 

COURTIER. 

Come,  mad-woman!  Why  all  this  fuss  about  a  basket?  You  call 
it  your  lord's  basket;  what  lord  can  you  mean? 

TERUHI. 

What  lord  should  I  mean  but  the  lord  of  this  land  of  Sunrise?  Is 
there  another? 

Then  follow  a  "mad  dance"  and  song.  The  courtier  orders  her 
to  come  nearer  the  Imperial  litter  and  dance  again,  that  her  follies 
may  divert  the  Emperor. 

She  comes  forward  and  dances  the  story  of  Wu  Ti  and  Li  Fu-jen.1 

Nothing  could  console  him  for  her  death.     He  ordered  her  portrait 

to  be   painted   on   the  walls   of  his  palace.     But,  because  the  face 

neither  laughed   nor  grieved,  the  sight   of  it  increased   his  sorrow. 

*A   Chinese  Emperor  of  the  Han  dynasty  and  his  concubine. 


SUMMARIES  223 


Many  wizards  laboured  at  his  command  to  summon  her  soul  before 
him.    At  last  one  of  them  projected  upon  a  screen  some  dim  semblance 
of  her  face  and  form.     But  when  the  Emperor  would  have  touched 
i  vanished,  and  he  stood  in  the  palace  alone. 

COURTIER. 

His  Majesty  commands  you  to  show  him  your  flower-basket. 
(She  holds  the  basket  before  the  EMPEROR.) 

COURTIER. 

His  Majesty  has  deigned  to  look  at  this  basket.  He  says  that  with- 
out doubt  it  was  a  possession  of  his  rural  days.1  He  bids  you  forget 
the  hateful  letter  that  is  with  it  and  be  mad  no  more.  He  will 
take  you  back  with  him  to  the  palace. 

1  The  time  before  his  accession. 


OMINAMESHI 
By    SEAM  I 

THE  play  is  written  round  a  story  and  a  poem.  A  man  came  to  the 
capital  and  was  the  lover  of  a  woman  there.  Suddenly  he  vanished, 
and  she,  in  great  distress,  set  out  to  look  for  him  in  the  country  he 
came  from.  She  found  his  house,  and  asked  his  servants  where  he 
was.  They  told  her  he  had  just  married  and  was  with  his  wife. 
When  she  heard  this  she  ran  out  of  the  house  and  leapt  into  the  Ho  jo 
River. 

GHOST  OF  THE  LOVER. 
When  this  was  told  him, 
Startled,  perturbed,  he  went  to  the  place; 
But  when  he  looked, 
Pitiful  she  lay, 
Limp-limbed  on  the  ground. 
Then  weeping,  weeping — 

GHOST  OF  GIRL. 

He  took  up  the  body  in  his  arms, 
And  at  the  foot  of  this  mountain 
Laid  it  to  rest  in  earth. 

GHOST  OF  LOVER. 

And  from  that  earth  sprang  up 

A  lady-flower1  and  blossomed 

Alone  upon  her  grave. 

Then  he: 

"This  flower  is  her  soul." 

And  still  he  lingered,  tenderly 

Touched  with  his  hand  the  petals'  hem, 

Till  in  the  flower's  dress  and  on  his  own 

The  same  dew  fell. 

But  the  flower,  he  thought, 

1  Ominabeshi   (or  ominameshi,  ominayeshi) ,  "Ladies'  Meal,"  but  written  with 
Chinese  characters  meaning  "ladies'  flower,"  a  kind  of  patrinia. 

224 


SUMMARIES  225 


Was  angry  with  him,  for  often  when  he  touched  it 
It  drooped  and  turned  aside. 

Such  is  the  story  upon  which  the  play  is  founded.     The  poem  is  one 
by  Bishop  Henjo  (816-890)  : 

0  lady-flowers 

That  preen  yourselves  upon  the  autumn  hill, 
Even  you  that  make  so  brave  a  show, 
Last  but  "one  while." 


toki,  "one  while,"  is  the  refrain  of  the  play. 
while"  that  they  lived  together  in  the  Capital;  it  is  for  "one  while" 
that  men  are  young,  that  flowers  blossom,  that  love  lasts.  In  the  first 
art  of  the  play  an  aged  man  hovering  round  a  clump  of  lady-flowers 
s  the  priest  not  to  pluck  them.  In  the  second  part  this  aged  man 
turns  into  the  soul  of  the  lover.  The  soul  of  the  girl  also  appears, 
and  both  are  saved  by  the  priest's  prayers  from  that  limbo  (half 
death,  half  life)  where  all  must  linger  who  die  in  the  coils  of 
shushin,  "heart-attachment." 


MATSUKAZE 
By    KWANAMI;     REVISED    BY    SEAMI 

LORD  YUKIHIRA,  brother  of  Narihira,  was  banished  to  the  lonely 
shore  of  Suma.  While  he  lived  there  he  amused  himself  by  helping 
two  fisher-girls  to  carry  salt  water  from  the  sea  to  the  salt-kilns  on 
the  shore.  Their  names  were  Matsukaze  and  Murasame. 

At  this  time  he  wrote  two  famous  poems;  the  first,  while  he  was 
crossing  the  mountains  on  his  way  to  Suma: 

"Through  the  traveller's  dress 
The    autumn   wind   blows   with   sudden    chill. 
It  is  the  shore-wind  of  Suma 
Blowing  through  the  pass." 

When  he  had  lived  a  little  while  at  Suma,  he  sent  to  the  Capital  a 
poem  which  said: 

"If  any  should  ask  news, 
Tell  him  that  upon  the  shore  of  Suma 
I  drag  the  water-pails." 

Long  afterwards  Prince  Genji  was  banished  to  the  same  place. 
The  chapter  of  the  Genji  Monogatari  called  "Suma"  says: 

Although  the  sea  was  some  way  off,  yet  when  the  melancholy 
autumn  wind  came  "blowing  through  the  pass"  (the  very  wind  of 
Yukihira's  poem),  the  beating  of  the  waves  on  the  shore  seemed  near 
indeed. 

It  is  round  these  two  poems  and  the  prose  passage  quoted  above 
that  the  play  is  written. 

A  wandering  priest  comes  to  the  shore  of  Suma  and  sees  a 
strange  pine-tree  standing  alone.  A  "person  of  the  place"  (in  an 
interlude  not  printed  in  the  usual  texts)  tells  him  that  the  tree 
was  planted  in  memory  of  two  fisher-girls,  Matsukaze,  and  Murasame, 
and  asks  him  to  pray  for  them.  While  the  priest  prays  it  grows 

226 


SUMMARIES  227 


that 

salt-kiln."     He   goes   to   the   "waki's   pillar"    and   waits   there   as   if 
waiting  for  the  master  of  the  kiln  to  return. 

Meanwhile  Matsukaze  and  Murasame  come  on  to  the  stage  and 
perform  the  "water-carrying"  dance  which  culminates  in  the  famous 
passage  known  as  "The  moon  in  the  water-pails." 

CHORUS  (speaking  for  MURASAME). 
There  is  a  moon  in  my  pail! 

MATSUKAZE. 

Why,  into  my  pail  too  a  moon  has  crept! 

(Looking  up  at  the  sky.) 
One  moon  above.  .  . 

CHORUS. 

Two  imaged  moons  below, 

So  through  the  night  each  carries 

A  moon  on  her  water-truck, 

Drowned  at  the  bucket's  brim. 

Forgotten,  in  toil  on  this  salt  sea-road, 

The  sadness  of  this  world  where  souls  cling! 

Their  work  is  over  and  they  approach  their  huts,  i.  e.,  the  "waki's 
pillar,"  where  the  priest  is  sitting  waiting.  After  refusing  for  a  long 
while  to  admit  him  "because  their  hovel  is  too  mean  to  receive  him," 
they  give  him  shelter,  and  after  the  usual  questioning,  reveal  their 
identities. 

In  the  final  ballet  Matsukaze  dresses  in  the  "court-hat  and  hunting 
cloak  given  her  by  Lord  Yukihira"  and  dances,  among  other  dances, 
the  "Broken  Dance,"  which  also  figures  in  Hagoromo. 

The  "motif  of  this  part  of  the  play  is  another  famous  poem  by 
Yukihira,  that  by  which  he  is  represented  in  the  Hyakuninisshu  or 
"Hundred  Poems  by  a  Hundred  Poets": 

"When    I    am   gone   away, 

If  1  hear  that  like  the  pine-tree  on  Mount  Inaba 

You  are  waiting  for  me, 

Even  then   I   will  come  back  to  you." 


228  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF  JAPAN 

There  is  a  play  of  words  between  matsu,  "wait,"  and  matsu,  "pine- 
tree";  Inaba,  the  name  of  a  mountain,  and  inaba,  "if  I  go  away." 

The  play  ends  with  the  release  of  the  girls'  souls  from  the  slwshin, 
"heart-attachment,"  which  holds  them  to  the  earth. 


SHUNKWAN 
By    SEAMI 

THE  priest  Shunkwan,  together  with  Naritsune  and  Yasuyori,  had 
plotted  the  overthrow  of  the  Tairas.  They  were  arrested  and  banished 
to  Devil's  Island  on  the  shore  of  Satsuma. 

Naritsune  and  Yasuyori  were  worshippers  of  the  Gods  of  Kumano. 
They  brought  this  worship  with  them  to  the  place  of  their  exile, 
constructing  on  the  island  an  imitation  of  the  road  from  Kyoto  to 
Kumano  with  its  ninety-nine  roadside  shrines.  This  "holy  way" 
they  decked  with  nusa,  "paper-festoons,"  and  carried  out,  as  best 
they  might,  the  Shinto  ceremonies  of  the  three  shrines  of  Kumano. 

When  the  play  begins  the  two  exiles  are  carrying  out  these  rites. 
Having  no  albs4  to  wear,  they  put  on  the  tattered  hemp-smocks 
which  they  wore  on  their  journey;  having  no  rice  to  offer,  they 
pour  out  a  libation  of  sand. 

Shunkwan,  who  had  been  abbot  of  the  Zen  2  temple  Hosshoji,  holds 
aloof  from  these  ceremonies.  But  when  the  worshippers  return 
he  comes  to  meet  them  carrying  a  bucket  of  water,  which  he  tells 
them  is  the  wine  for  their  final  libation.  They  look  into  the 
bucket  and  cry  in  disgust:  Ya!  Kore  wa  mizu  nari!  "Why,  it 
is  water!" 

In  a  long  lyrical  dialogue  which  follows,  Shunkwan,  with  the 
aid  of  many  classical  allusions,  justifies  the  identification  of  chrysan- 
themum-water and  wine. 

CHORUS  (speaking  for  SHUNKWAN.) 
Oh,  endless  days  of  banishment! 
How  long  shall  I  languish  in  this  place, 
Where  the  time  while  a  mountain  dewdrop  dries 
Seems  longer  than  a  thousand  years? 
A  spring  has  gone;  summer  grown  to  age; 
An  autumn  closed;   a  winter  come  again, 
Marked  only  by  the  changing  forma 
Of  flowers  and  trees. 


1  Ceremonial   white  vestment*,   hakaye. 
3  For  "Zen"  tee  Introduction,  p.  32. 

000 


230  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

Oh,  longed-for  time  of  old! 

Oh,  recollection  sweet  whithersoever 

The  mind  travels;  City  streets  and  cloisters  now 

Seem  Edensa  garlanded 

With  every  flower  of  Spring. 

Suddenly  a  boat  appears  carrying  a  stranger  to  the  shore.  This  is 
represented  on  the  stage  by  an  attendant  carrying  the  conventionalized 
No  play  "boat"  on  to  the  hashi  gakari.  The  envoy,  whose  departure 
from  the  Capital  forms  the  opening  scene  of  the  play — I  have  omitted 
it  is  my  summary — has  been  standing  by  the  "Waki's  pillar." 
He  now  steps  into  the  boat  and  announces  that  a  following  wind  is 
carrying  him  swiftly  over  the  sea.  He  leaves  the  boat,  carrying 
a  Proclamation  in  his  hand. 

ENVOY. 

I  bring  an  Act  of  Amnesty  from  the  City. 
Here,  read  it  for  yourselves. 

SHUNKWAN  (snatching  the  scroll). 
Look,  Yasuyori!     Look!     At  last! 

YASUYORI  (reading  the  scroll). 
What  is  this?     What  is  this? 

"Because  of  the  pregnancy  of  Her  Majesty  the  Empress,  an  am- 
nesty is  proclaimed  throughout  the  land.  All  exiles  are  recalled 
from  banishment,  and,  of  those  exiled  on  Devil's  Island,  to  these  two 
Naritsune,  Lieutenant  of  Tamba  and  Yasuyori  of  the  Taira  clan, 
free  pardon  is  granted," 

SHUNKWAN. 

Why,  you  have  forgotten  to  read  Shunkwan's  name! 

YASUYORI. 

Your  name,  alas,  is  not  there.     Read  the  scroll. 

SHUNKWAN  (scanning  the  scroll). 
This  must  be  some  scribe's  mistake. 

ENVOY. 

No;  they  told  me  at  the  Capital  to  bring  back  Yasuyori  and 
Naritsune,  but  to  leave  Shunkwan  upon  the  island. 

1Lit,  Kikenjo,  one  of  the  Buddhist  paradises. 


SUMMARIES  231 


SHUNKWAN. 

How  can  that  be? 

One  crime,  one  banishment; 

Yet  I  alone,  when  pardon 

Like  a  mighty  net  is  spread 

To  catch  the  drowning  multitude,  slip  back 

Into   the   vengeful   deep! 

When  three  dwelt  here  together, 

How  terrible  the  loneliness  of  these  wild  rocks! 

Now  one  is  left,  to  wither 

Like  a  flower  dropped  on  the  shore. 

Like  a  broken  sea-weed  branch 

That  no  wave  carries  home. 

Is  not  this  island  named 

The  Realm  of  Fiends,  where  I, 

Damned  but  not  dead  walk  the  Black  Road  of  Death? 

Yet  shall  the  foulest  fiend  of  Hell 

Now  weep  for  me  whose  wrong 

Must  needs  move  heaven  and  earth, 

Wake  angels'  pity,  rend 

The  hearts  of  men,  turn  even  the  hungry  cries 

Of  the  wild  beasts  and  birds  that  haunt  these  rocks 

To   tender   lamentation. 

(He  buries  his  face  in  his  hands;  then  after  a  while  begins  reading 
the  scroll  again.) 

CHORUS. 

He  took  the  scroll  that  he  had  read  before. 

He  opened  it  and  looked. 

His  eyes,  like  a  shuttle,  travelled 

To  and  fro,  to  and  fro. 

Yet,  though  he  looked  and  looked, 

No  other  names  he  saw 

But  Yasuyori's  name  and  Naritsune's  name 

Then  thinking  There  is  a  codicil,  perhaps," 

Again  he  opens  the  scroll  and  looks. 

Nowhere  is  the  word  Sozu,1  nowhere  the  word  Shunkwan. 

(The  ENVOY  then  calls  upon  NARITSUNE  and  YASUYORI  to 
board  the  boat.    SHUNKWAN   clutches  at  YASUYORI'S 
i  Priest. 


232  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF  JAPAN 

sleeve   and   tries   to   follow   him    on   board.     The   ENVOY 
pushes  him  back,  calling  to  him  to  keep  clear  of  the  boat.) 

SHUNKWAN. 

Wretch,  have  you  not  heard  the  saying: 

"Be  law,  but  not  her  servants,  pitiless." 

Bring  me  at  least  to  the  mainland.     Have  so  much  charity! 

ENVOY. 

But  the  sailor  l  knew  no  pity; 
He  took  his  oar  and  struck.  .  . 

SHUNKWAN  (retreating  a  step). 
Nevertheless,  leave  me  my  life.  ... 
Then  he  stood  back  and  caught  in  both  his  hands 
The  anchor-rope  and  dragged  .  .  . 

ENVOY. 

But  the  sailor  cut  the  rope  and  pushed  the  boat  to  sea. 

SHUNKWAN. 

He  clasped  his  hands.     He  called,  besought  them — 

ENVOY. 

But  though  they  heard  him  calling,  they  would  not  carry  him. 

SHUNKWAN. 

It  was  over;  he  struggled  no  more. 

CHORUS. 

But  left  upon  the  beach,  wildly  he  waved  his  sleeves, 

Stricken  as  she  2  who  on  the  shore 

Of  Matsura  waved  till  she  froze  to  stone. 

ENVOYS,  NANITSUNE  and  YASUYORI  (together). 

Unhappy  man,  our  hearts  are  not  cold.  When  we  reach  the  City, 
we  will  plead  unceasingly  for  your  recall.  In  a  little  while  you 
shall  return.  Wait  with  a  good  heart. 

(Their  voices  grow  fainter  and  fainter,  as  though  the  ship  were 
moving  away  from  the  shore.) 

1  Acted  by  a  kyogen  or  farce-character. 

2  Sayohime  who,  when  her  husband  sailed  to  Korea,  stood  waving  on  the  cliff 
till  she  turned  into  stone. 


SUMMARIES  233 


SHUNKWAN. 

"Wait,    wait,"    they    cried,    "Hope,    wait!" 

But  distance  dimmed  their  cry, 

And  hope  with  their  faint  voices  faded. 

He  checked  his  sobs,  stood  still  and  listened,  listened — 

(SHUNKWAN  puts  his  hand  to  his  ear  and  bends  forward  in 
the  attitude  of  one  straining  to  catch  a  distant  sound.) 

THE    THREE. 

Shunkwan,  Shunkwan,  do  you  hear  us? 

SHUNKWAN. 

You  will  plead  for  me? 

THE    THREE. 

Yes,  yes.     And  then  surely  you  will  be  summoned.  .  .  . 

SHUNKWAN. 

Back  to  the  City?     Can  you  mean  it? 

THE    THREE. 
Why,  surely! 

SHUNKWAN. 

I  hope;  yet  while  I  hope.  .  . 

CHORUS. 

"Wait,  wait,  wait!" 

Dimmer  grow  the  voices;  dimmer  the  ship,  the  wide  waves 

Pile  up  behind  it. 

The  voices  stop.     The  ship,  the  men 

Have  vanished.     All  is  gone 

There  is  an  ancient  Kowaka  dance  called  Id  go  Shima,  "Sulphur 
Island"  another  name  for  DeviVs  Island.  It  represents  the 
piety  of  Naritsune  and  Yasuyori,  and  the  amoral  mysticism 
of  the  Zen  abbot  Shunkwan.  Part  of  the  text  is  as  follows: 

NARITSUNE. 

This  is  the  vow  of  the  Holy  One, 
The  God  of  Kumano: 


234  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

"Whosoever  of  all  mortal  men 

Shall  turn  his  heart  to  me, 

Though  he  be  come  to  the  utmost  end  of  the  desert, 

To  the  furthest  fold  of  the  hills, 

I  will  send  a  light  to  lead  him; 

I  will  guide  him  on  his  way." 

And  we  exiled  on  this  far  rock, 

By  daily  honour  to  the  Triple  Shrine, 

By  supplication  to  Kumano's  God, 

Shall  compass  our  return. 

Shunkwan,  how  think  you? 

SHUNKWAN. 

Were  it  the  Hill  King  of  Hiyei,1  I  would  not  say  no.  But  as  for 
this  God  of  Kumano,  I  have  no  faith  in  him.  (Describing  the  actions 
of  NARITSUNE  and  YASUYORI.) 

Then  lonely,  lonely  these  two  to  worship  went; 

On  the  wide  sea  they  gazed, 

Roamed  on  the  rugged  shore; 

Searching  ever  for  a  semblance 

Of  the  Three  Holy  Hills. 

Now,  where  between  high  rocks 

A  long,  clear  river  flowed; 

Now  where  tree-tops  soar 

Summit  on  summit  upward  to  the  sky. 

And  there  they  planned  to  set 

The  Mother-Temple,  Hall   of  Proven  Truth; 

And  here  the  Daughter-Shrine, 

The  Treasury  of  Kan. 

Then  far  to  northward  aiming 

To  a  white  cliff  they  came,  where  from  the  clouds 

Swift  waters  tumbled  down. 

Then  straightway  they  remembered 

The  Hill  of  Nachi,  where  the  Dragon  God, 

Winged  water-spirit,  pants  with  stormy  breath 

And  fills  the  woods  with  awe. 

Here  reverently  they  their  Nachi  set. 

The  Bonze  Shunkwan  mounted  to  a  high  place; 
His  eye  wandered  north,  south,  east  and  west. 

1  The  headquarters  of  the  Tendai  sect  of  Buddhism. 


SUMMARIES  235 


A  thousand,  thousand  concepts  filled  his  heart. 

Suddenly  a  black  cloud  rose  before  him, 

A  heavy  cloak  of  cloud; 

And  a  great  rock  crashed  and  fell  into  the  sea. 

Then  the  great  Bonze  in  his  meditation  remembered 

An  ancient  song: 

"The  wind  scattered  a  flower  at  Buddha's  feet; 

A  boulder  fell  and  crushed  the  fish  of  the  pool. 

Neither  has  the  wind  merit,  nor  the  boulder  blame; 

They  know  not  what  they  do." 

'The  Five  Limbs  are  a  loan,"  he  cried,  "that  must  be  repaid; 

A  mess  of  earth,  water,  air,  fire. 

And  the  heart — void,  as  the  sky;  shapeless,  substanceless ! 

Being  and  non-being 

Are  but  twin  aspects  of  all  component  things. 

And  that  which  seems  to  be,  soon  is  not. 

But  only  contemplation  is  eternal." 

So  the  priest:  proudly  pillowed 

On  unrepentance  and  commandments  broke. 


AMA 

(THE    FISHER-GIRL) 
By    SEAM  I 

FUJIWARA  NO  FUSAZAKI  was  the  child  of  a  fisher-girl.  He  was  taken 
from  her  in  infancy  and  reared  at  the  Capital.  When  he  grew  to 
be  a  man  he  went  to  Shido  to  look  for  her.  On  the  shore  he  met 
with  a  fisher-girl  who,  after  speaking  for  some  while  with  him, 
gave  him  a  letter,  and  at  once  vanished  with  the  words:  "I  am 
the  ghost  of  the  fisher-girl  that  was  your  mother."  The  letter  said: 

Ten  years  and  three  have  passed  since  my  soul  fled  to  the  Yellow  Clod.  Many 
days  and  months  has  the  abacus  told  since  the  white  sand  covered  my  bones.  The 
Road  of  Death  is  dark,. dark;  and  none  has  prayed  for  me. 

I  am  your  mother.  Lighten,  oh  lighten,  dear  son,  the  great  darkness  that  has 
lain  round  me  for  thirteen  years! 

Then  Fusazaki  prayed  for  his  mother's  soul  and  she  appeared  before 
him  born  again  as  a  Blessed  Dragon  Lady  of  Paradise,  carrying  in 
her  hand  the  scroll  of  the  Hokkekyo  (see  Plate  II),  and  danced 
the  Hayamai,  the  "swift  dance,"  of  thirteen  movements.  On  the 
Kongo  stage  the  Dragon  Lady  is  dressed  as  a  man;  for  women  have 
no  place  in  Paradise. 


236 


TAKE     NO    YUKI 
(SNOW    ON    THE    BAMBOOS) 
By    SEAMI 

PERSONS 

T01\0-I.  TSVK1WAKA  (his  son  by  the  first  wife). 

HIS  FIRST  WIFE.  TSUKIWAKA'S  SISTER. 

HIS  SECOND  WIFE.        A  SERVANT. 

CHORUS. 

TONO-I. 

My  name  is  Tono-i.  I  live  in  the  land  of  Echigo.  I  had  a  \vii«-: 
but  for  a  trifling  reason  I  parted  from  her  and  put  her  to  live  in  the 
House  of  the  Tall  Pines,  which  is  not  far  distant  from  here.  We 
had  two  children;  and  the  girl  I  sent  to  live  with  her  mother  at 
thr  House  of  the  Tall  Pines,  but  the  boy,  Tsukiwaka,  I  have  here 
with  me,  to  be  the  heir  of  all  my  fortune. 

And  this  being  done,  I  brought  a  new  wife  to  my  home.  Now 
it  happens  that  in  pursuance  of  a  binding  vow  I  must  be  absent  for 
a  while  on  pilgrimage  to  a  place  not  far  away.  I  will  now  give 
orders  for  the  care  of  Tsukiwaka,  my  son.  Is  my  wife  there? 

SECOND    WIFE. 

What  is  it? 

TONO-I. 

I  called  you  to  tell  you  this:  in  pursuance  of  a  vow  I  must  be 
absent  on  pilgrimage  for  two  or  three  days.  While  I  am  away,  I 
beg  you  to  tend  my  child  Tsukiwaka  with  loving  care.  Moreover  I 
must  tell  you  that  the  snow  falls  very  thick  in  these  parts,  and  when 
it  piles  up  upon  the  bamboos  that  grow  along  the  four  walla  of  the 
yard,  it  weighs  them  down  and  breaks  them  to  bits. 

I  don't  know  how  it  will  be,  but  I  fancy  there  is  snow  in  the 
air  now.  If  it  should  chance  to  fall,  pray  order  my  servants  to 
brush  it  from  the  leaves  of  the  bamboos. 


238  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

SECOND    WIFE. 

What?  A  pilgrimage,  is  it?  Why  then  go  in  peace,  and  a 
blessing  on  your  journey.  I  will  not  forget  about  the  snow  on  the 
bamboos.  But  as  for  Tsukiwaka,  there  was  no  need  for  you  to 
speak.  Do  you  suppose  I  would  neglect  him,  however  far  away 
you  went? 

TONO-I. 

No,  indeed.     I  spoke  of  it,  because  he  is  so  very  young.  .  .  . 
But  now  I  must  be  starting  on  my  journey.     (He  goes.) 

SECOND    WIFE. 

Listen,  Tsukiwaka!  Your  father  has  gone  off  on  a  pilgrimage. 
Before  he  went,  he  said  something  to  me  about  you.  "Tend  Tsukiwaka 
with  care,"  he  said.  There  was  no  need  for  him  to  speak.  You  must 
have  been  telling  him  tales  about  me,  saying  I  was  not  kind  to 
you  or  the  like  of  that.  You  are  a  bad  boy.  I  am  angry  with  you, 
very  angry!  (She  turns  away.) 

TSUKIWAKA  then  runs  to  his  mother  at  the  House  of  the  Tall 
Pines.  A  lyric  scene  follows  in  which  TSUKIWAKA  and 
his  mother  (the  CHORUS  aiding)  bewail  their  lot. 

Meanwhile  the  SECOND  WIFE  misses  TSUKIWAKA. 

SECOND    WIFE. 

Where  is  Tsukiwaka?  What  can  have  become  of  him?  (She  calls 
for  a  servant.)  Where  has  Tsukiwaka  gone  off  to? 

SERVANT. 

I  have  not  the  least  idea. 

SECOND  WIFE. 

Why,  of  course!  I  have  guessed.  He  took  offence  at  what  I 
said  to  him  just  now  and  has  gone  off  as  usual  to  the  Tall  Pines  to 
blab  to  his  mother.  How  tiresome!  Go  and  tell  him  that  his 
father  has  come  home  and  has  sent  for  him;  bring  him  back  with  you. 

SERVANT. 

I  tremble  and  obey.  (He  goes  to  the  "hashigakari"  and  speaks  to 
TSUKIWAKA  and  the  FIRST  WIFE.)  The  master  has  come  back 
and  sent  for  you,  Master  Tsukiwaka!  Come  back  quickly! 


YUYA  m:\m\i;  THE  LET1  i.n 


SUMMARIES  239 


FIRST    WIFE. 

What?  His  father  has  sent  for  him?  What  a  pity;  he  comes 
here  so  seldom.  But  if  your  father  has  sent  for  you,  you  must  go 
to  him.  Come  soon  again  to  give  your  mother  comfort! 

(The  SERVANT  takes  TSUKIWAKA  back  to  the  SECOND 
WIFE.) 

SERVANT. 

Madam,  I  have  brought  back  Master  Tsukiwaka. 

SECOND    WIFE. 

What  does  this  mean,  Tsukiwaka?  Have  you  been  blabbing  again 
at  the  House  of  the  Tall  Pines?  Listen!  Your  father  told  me  before 
he  went  away  that  if  it  came  on  to  snow,  I  was  to  tell  some  one  to 
brush  the  snow  off  the  bamboos  round  the  four  walls  of  the  yard. 

It  is  snowing  very  heavily  now.  So  be  quick  and  brush  the  snow 
off  the  bamboos.  Come  now,  take  off  your  coat  and  do  it  in  your 
shirt-sleeves. 

(The  bay  obeys.  The  CHORUS  describes  the  "sweeping  of  the 
bamboos"  It  grows  colder  and  colder.) 

CHORUS. 

The  wind  stabbed  him,  and  as  the  night  wore  on, 

The  snow  grew  hard  with  frost;  he  could  not  brush  it  away. 

"I  will  go  back,"  he  thought,  and  pushed  at  the  barred  gate. 

"Open ! "  he  cried,  and  hammered  with  his  frozen  hands. 

None  heard  him ;  his  blows  made  no  sound. 

"Oh  the  cold,  the  cold !     I  cannot  bear  it. 

Help,  help  for  Tsukiwaka!" 

Never  blew  wind  more  wildly ! 

(TSUKIWAKA  falls  dead  upon  the  snow.) 

The  servant  finds  him  there  and  goes  to  the  House  of  the  Tall 
Pines  to  inform  the  mother.  A  scene  of  lament  follows 
in  which  mother,  sister  and  chorus  join.  The  father  comes 
home  and  hears  the  sound  of  weeping.  When  he  discovert 
the  cause,  he  is  reconciled  with  the  first  wife  (the  second 
wife  is  not  mentioned  again),  and  owing  to  their  pious  at- 
titude, the  child  returns  to  life. 


240       THE  NO  PLAYS  OF  JAPAN 

TORI-OI 
BY  KONGO  YAGORO 

Bears  a  strong  resemblance  to  Take  no  Yuki. 
The  date  of  the  author  is  unknown. 

A  CERTAIN  lord  goes  up  to  the  city  to  settle  a  lawsuit,  leaving  his 
steward  in  charge  of  his  estate.  In  his  absence  the  steward  grows 
overbearing  in  his  manner  towards  his  mistress  and  her  litttle  son, 
Hanawaka,  finally  compelling  them  to  take  part  in  the  arduous 
labour  of  "bird-scaring,"'  rowing  up  and  down  the  river  among  the 
rice-fields,  driving  away  the  birds  that  attack  the  crop. 

YUYA 

TAJRA  NO  MUNEMORI  had  long  detained  at  the  Capital  his  mistress 
Yuya,  whose  aged  mother  continually  besought  him  to  send  back  her 
daughter  to  her  for  a  little  while,  that  she  might  see  her  before  she 
died.  In  the  illustration  she  is  shown  reading  a  letter  in  which  her 
mother  begs  her  to  return. 

Munemori  insisted  that  Yuya  should  stay  with  him  till  the  Spring 
pageants  were  over;  but  all  their  feasting  and  flower-viewing  turned 
to  sadness,  and  in  the  end  he  let  Yuya  go  home. 


TANGO-MONOGURUI 
By    I  -  A  M I 

THERE  are  several  plays  which  describe  the  fatal  anger  of  a  father 
on  discovering  that  his  child  has  no  aptitude  for  learning.  One 
of  these,  Nakamitsu  or  Manju,  has  been  translated  by  Chamberlain. 
The  Tango-.Monogurui,  a  similar  play,  has  usually  been  ascribed  to 
Seami,  but  Seami  in  his  Works  says  that  it  is  by  a  certain  I-ami.  The 
father  comes  on  to  the  stage  and,  after  the  usual  opening,  announces 
that  he  has  sent  a  messenger  to  fetch  his  son,  whom  he  has  put 
to  school  at  a  neighbouring  temple.  He  wishes  to  see  what  progress 
the  boy  is  making. 

FATHER  (to  his  SERVANT). 

I  sent  some  one  to  bring  Master  Hanamatsu  back  from  the  temple. 
Has  he  come  yet? 

SERVANT. 

Yes,  sir.     He  was  here  last  night. 

FATHER. 

What?     He  came  home  last  night,  and  I  heard  nothing  about  it? 

SERVANT. 

Last  night  he  had  drunk  a  little  too  much,  so  we  thought  it  better 
not  to  say  that  he  was  here. 

FATHER. 

Oho!     Last  night  he  was  tipsy,  was  he?     Send  him  to  me. 
(The  SERVANT  brings  HANAMATSU.) 

Well,  you  have  grown  up  mightily  since  I  saw  you  last. 
I  sent  for  you  to  find  out  how  your  studies  are  progressing.     How 
far  have  you  got? 

HANAMATSU. 

I  have  not  learnt  much  of  the  difficult  subjects.     Nothing  worth 

241 


242  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

mentioning  of  the  Sutras  or  Shastras  or  moral  books.  I  know  a 
little  of  the  graduses  and  Eight  Collections  of  Poetry;  but  in  the 
Hokke  Scripture  I  have  not  got  to  the  Law-Master  Chapter,  and  in 
the  Gusha-shastra  I,  have  not  got  as  far  as  the  Seventh  Book. 

FATHER. 

This  is  unthinkable!  He  says  he  has  not  learnt  anything  worth 
mentioning.  Pray,  have  you  talents  in  any  direction? 

SERVANT  (wishing  to  put  in  a  good  word  for  the  boy). 

He's  reckoned  a  wonderful  hand  at  the  chop-sticks  and  drum.1 

FATHER  (angrily). 

Be  quiet!     Is  it  your  child  I  was  talking  of? 

SERVANT. 

No,  sir,  you  were  speaking  of  Master  Hanamatsu. 

FATHER. 

Now  then,  Hanamatsu.  Is  this  true?  Very  well  then;  just  listen 
quietly  to  me.  These  childish  tricks — writing  odes,  capping  verses 
and  the  like  are  not  worth  anything.  They're  no  more  important  than 
playing  ball  or  shooting  toy  darts.  And  as  for  the  chop-sticks  and 
drum — they  are  the  sort  of  instruments  street  urchins  play  on  under 
the  Spear  2  at  festival-time.  But  when  I  ask  about  your  studies,  you 
tell  me  that  in  the  Hokke  you  have  not  got  to  the  Law-Master  Chapter, 
and  in  the  Gusha-shastra  you  have  not  reached  the  Seventh  Book.  Might 
not  the  time  you  spent  on  the  chop-sticks  have  been  better  employed 
in  studying  the  Seventh  Book?  Now  then,  don't  excuse  yourself! 
Those  who  talk  most  do  least.  But  henceforth  you  are  no  son  of 
mine.  Be  off  with  you  now! 

(The  boy  hesitates,  bewildered.) 
Well,  if  you  can't  get  started  by  yourself  I  must  help  you. 

(Seizes  him  by  the  arm  and  thrusts  him  off  the  stage.) 

In  the  next  scene  Hanamatsu  enters  accompanied  by  a  pious  ship's 
captain,  who  relates  that  he  found  the  lad  on  the  point  of  drowning 

1  The  sasara    (split  bamboos  rubbed  together)    and  yatsubachi,  "eight-sticks," 
a  kind  of  vulgar  drum. 

2  A  sort  of  maypole  set  up  at  the  Gion  Festival. 


SUMMARIES  243 


himself,  but  rescued  him,  and,  taking  him  home,  instructed  him  in 
the  most  recondite  branches  of  knowledge,  for  which  he  showed 
uncommon  aptitude;  now  he  is  taking  him  back  to  Tango  to  reconcile 
him  with  his  father. 

At  Tango  they  learn  that  the  father,  stricken  with  remorse,  has 
become  demented  and  is  wandering  over  the  country  in  search  of  his 
son. 

Coming  to  a  chapel  of  Manjushri,  the  captain  persuades  the  lad 
to  read  a  service  there,  and  announces  to  the  people  that  an  eminent 
and  learned  divine  is  about  to  expound  the  scriptures.  Among  the 
worshippers  comes  an  eccentric  character  whom  the  captain  is  at 
first  unwilling  to  admit. 

MADMAN. 

Even  madmen  can  school  themselves  for  a  while.  I  will  not  rave 
while  the  service  is  being  read. 

CAPTAIN. 

So  be  it.  Then  sit  down  here  and  listen  quietly.  (To  HANA- 
MATSU.)  All  the  worshippers  have  come.  You  had  better  begin  the 
service  at  once. 

HANAMATSU  (describing  his  own  actions). 
Then  because  the  hour  of  worship  had  come 
The  Doctor  mounted  the  pulpit  and  struck  the  silence-bell; 
Then  reverently  prayed: 

Let  us  call  on  the  Sacred  Name  of  Shakyamuni,  once  incarnate; 
On  the  Buddhas  of  the  Past,  the  Present  and  the  Time  to  Come. 
To  thee  we  pray,  Avalokita,  Lord  of  the  Ten  Worlds; 
And  all  Spirits  of  Heaven  and  Earth  we  invoke. 
Praised  be  the  name  of  Amida  Buddha! 

MADMAN  (shouting  excitedly). 
Amida!     Praise  to  Amida! 

CAPTAIN. 

There  you  go!  You  promised  to  behave  properly,  but  now  arc 
disturbing*1  the  whole  congregation  by  your  ravings.  I  never  heard 
such  senseless  shouting. 

i  Literally  "waking." 


244  THE   NO    PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

(A  lyrical  dialogue  follows  full  of  poetical  allusions,  from  which 
it  is  apparent  that  the  MADMAN  is  crying  to  Amida  to 
save  a  child's  soul.) 

CAPTAIN. 

Listen,   Madman!     The   Doctor   heard   you   praying   for   a   child's 
soul.     He  wishes  you  to  tell  him  your  story. 

The  father  and  son  recognize  one  another.  The  son  flings  him- 
self down  from  the  pulpit  and  embraces  his  father.  They 
go  home  together,  attributing  their  reunion  to  the  intervention 
of  Manjushri,  the  God  of  Wisdom. 


YAMAUBA 

(THE  LADY  OP  THE  MOUNTAINS) 


IKKAKU    SENNIN 
(THE    ONE-HORNED    RISHI) 

A  RISHI  lived  in  the  hills  near  Benares.  Under  strange  circumstances1 
a  roe  bore  him  a  son  whose  form  was  human,  save  that  a  single 
horn  grew  on  his  forehead,  and  that  he  had  stag's  hoofs  instead  of 
feet.  He  was  given  the  name  Ekashringa,  "One-horn." 

One  day  it  was  raining  in  the  hills.  Ekashringa  slipped  and  hurt 
himself,  for  his  hoofs  were  ill-suited  to  his  human  frame.  He  cursed 
the  rain,  and  owing  to  his  great  merit  and  piety  his  prayer  was 
answered.  No  rain  fell  for  many  months. 

The  King  of  Benares  saw  that  the  drought  would  soon  bring 
famine.  He  called  together  his  counsellors,  and  one  of  them  told 
him  the  cause  of  the  disaster.  The  King  published  a  proclamation 
promising  half  of  his  kingdom  to  any  who  could  break  the  Rishi's 
spell.  Then  the  harlot  Shanta  came  to  the  King  and  said,  "I  will 
bring  you  this  Rishi  riding  him  pickaback!" 

She  set  out  for  the  mountains,  carrying  fruit  and  wine.  Having 
seduced  the  Rishi,  she  persuaded  him  to  follow  her  to  Benares.  Just 
outside  the  town  she  lay  down,  saying  that  she  was  too  tired  to  go  a 
step  further.  "Then  I  will  carry  you  pickaback,"  said  the  Rishi. 

And  so  Shanta  fulfilled  her  promise. 

In  the  No  play  (which  is  by  Komparu  Zembo  Motoyasu  1453- 
1532)  the  Rishi  has  overpowered  the  Rain-dragons,  and  shut  them 
up  in  a  cave.  Shanta,  a  noble  lady  of  Benares,  is  sent  to  tempt  him. 
The  Rishi  yields  to  her  and  loses  his  magic  power.  There  comes  a 
mighty  rumbling  from  the  cave. 

CHORUS. 

Down  blows  the  mountain  wind  with  a  wild  gust, 

The  sky  grows  dark, 

The  rock-cave  quakes, 

Huge  boulders  crash  on  every  side; 

The  dragons*  forms  appear. 

1  "II  apergut  im  cerf  et  unc  bichc  qui  s'accouplaicnt.    La  paaaion  impure  t'excita 
rn    lui.  ...    La    biche  .  .  .  ae    trouva   grotae."    Plri,    £.«    Femme*    de 
mouni,  p.  24. 

245 


246  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

IKKAKU. 

Then  the  Rishi  in  great  alarm — 

CHORUS. 

Then  the  Rishi  in  great  alarm 

Pursued  them  with  a  sharp  sword. 

And  the  Dragon  King 

Girt  with  the  armour  of  wrath, 

Waving  a  demon  blade, 

Fought  with  him  for  a  little  while. 

But  the  Rishi  had  lost  his  magic. 

Weaker  and  weaker  he  grew,  till  at  last  he  lay  upon  the  ground. 

Then  the  Dragon  King  joyfully 

Pierced  the  dark  clouds. 

Thunder  and  lightning  filled 

The  pools  of  Heaven,  and  fast 

The  great  rain  fell ;  the  wide  floods  were  loosed. 

Over  the  white  waves  flying, 

The  white  waves  that  rise, 

Homeward  he  hastens 

To  the  Dragon  City  of  the  sea. 


YAMAUBA 
(THE    DAME    OF    THE    MOUNTAINS) 

REVISED      BY    KOMPARU     ZENCHIKU 
UJINOBU    FROM    AN    ORIGINAL    BY 
SEAMI 

YAMAUBA  is  the  fairy  of  the  mountains,  which  have  been  under 
her  care  since  the  world  began.  She  decks  them  with  snow  in  winter, 
with  blossoms  in  spring;  her  task  carrying  her  eternally  from  hill  to 
valley  and  valley  to  hill.  She  has  grown  very  old.  Wild  white 
hair  hangs  down  her  shoulders;  her  face  is  very  thin. 

There  was  a  courtesan  of  the  Capital  who  made  a  dance  repre- 
senting the  wanderings  of  Yamauba.  It  had  such  success  that  people 
called  this  courtesan  "Yamauba"  though  her  real  name  was  Hyakuma. 

Once  when  Hyakuma  was  travelling  across  the  hills  to  Shinano  to 
visit  the  Zenko  Temple,  she  lost  her  way,  and  took  refuge  in  the 
hut  of  a  "mountain-girl,"  who  was  none  other  than  the  real  Yamauba. 

In  the  second  part  of  the  play  the  aged  fairy  appears  in  her  true 
form  and  tells  the  story  of  her  eternal  wanderings — "round  and 
round,  on  and  on,  from  hill  to  hill,  from  valley  to  valley."  In 
spring  decking  the  twigs  with  blossom,  in  autumn  clothing  the  hills 
with  moonlight,  in  winter  shaking  snow  from  the  heavy  clouds.  "On 
and  on,  round  and  round,  caught  in  the  Wheel  of  Fate.  .  .  .  Striding 
to  the  hill-tops,  sweeping  through  the  valleys.  .  .  ." 

CHORUS. 

On  and  on,  from  hill  to  hill. 
Awhile  our  eyes  behold  her,  but  now 
She  is  vanished  over  the  hills, 
Vanished  we  know  not  where. 

The  hill,  says  a  commentator,  is  the  Hill  of  Life,  where  men  wander 
from  incarnation  to  incarnation,  never  escaping  from  the  Wheel  of 
Life  and  Death. 


847 


HOTOKE     NO     KARA 
By    SEAMI 

GlO  was  the  mistress  of  Kiyomori  (1118-1181),  the  greatest  of  the 
Tairas.  One  day  there  arrived  at  his  camp  a  famous  dancing-girl 
called  Hotoke.  Kiyomori  was  for  sending  her  away;  but  Gio,  who  had 
heard  wonderful  stories  of  Hotoke's  beauty,  was  anxious  to  see  her, 
and  persuaded  Kiyomori  to  let  Hotoke  dance  before  him. 

Kiyomori  fell  in  love  with  the  dancer,  and  after  a  while  Gio  was 
dismissed.  She  became  a  nun,  and  with  her  mother  and  sister  lived  in 
a  hut  in  the  wilds  of  Sagano. 

Hotoke,  full  of  remorse  at  her  rival's  dismissal,  found  no  pleasure 
in  her  new  honours,  and  saying  "It  was  I  who  brought  her  to  this," 
fled  in  nun's  clothing  to  the  hut  at  Sagano.  Here  the  four  women 
lived  together,  singing  ceaseless  prayers  to  Buddha. 

In  the  play  the  ghost  of  Hotoke  appears  to  a  "travelling  priest"  and 
tells  the  story,  which  is  indeed  a  curious  and  arresting  one. 

MARI 
(THE     FOOTBALL) 

A  FOOTBALLER  died  at  the  Capital.  When  the  news  was  brought  to 
his  wife,  she  became  demented  and  performed  a  sort  of  football-mass 
for  his  soul.  "The  eight  players  in  a  game  of  football,"  she  de- 
clared, "represent  the  eight  chapters  in  the  Hokke  Scripture.  If 
the  four  goal-posts  are  added  the  number  obtained  is  twelve,  which 
is  the  number  of  the  Causes  and  Effects  which  govern  life.  Do  not 
think  of  football  as  a  secular  game." 

The  play  ends  with  a  "footbball  ballet." 

The  Journal  of  the  great  twelfth  century  footballer,  Fujiwara  no 
Narimichi,  contains  the  following  story:  "I  had  brought  together 
the  best  players  of  the  time  to  assist  me  in  celebrating  the  completion  of 
my  thousandth  game.  We  set  up  two  altars,  and  upon  the  one  we 
placed  our  footballs,  while  on  the  other  we  arranged  all  kinds  of 
offerings.  Then,  holding  on  to  prayer-ribbons  which  we  had  tied 
to  them,  we  worshipped  the  footballs. 

248 


SUMMARIES  249 


That  night  I  was  sitting  at  home  near  the  lamp,  grinding  my  ink 
with  the  intention  of  recording  the  day's  proceedings  in  my  journal, 
when  suddenly  the  football  which  I  had  dedicated  came  bouncing 
into  the  room  followed  by  three  children  of  about  four  years  old. 
Their  faces  were  human,  but  otherwise  they  looked  like  monkeys. 
"What  horrid  creatures,"  I  thought,  and  asked  them  roughly  who  they 
were. 

"We  are  the  Football  Sprites,"  they  said.  "And  if  you  want  to  know 
our  names —  So  saying  they  lifted  their  hanging  locks,  and  I 
saw  that  each  of  them  had  his  name  written  on  his  forehead,  as 
follows:  Spring  Willow  Flower,  Quiet  Summer  Wood,  and  Autumn 
Garden.  Then  they  said,  "Pray  remember  our  names  and  deign  to 
become  our  A/i-raori,  'Honourable  Guardian.'  Your  success  at  Mi- 
man,  'Honourable  Football,'  will  then  continually  increase." 

And  so  saying  they  disappeared. 


TORU 
By    KWANAMI    OR    SEAMI 

TORU  was  a  prince  v.i.o  built  a  great  palace  at  Rokujo-kawara,  near 
Kyoto.  In  its  grounds  was  a  counterfeit  of  the  bay  of  Naniwa, 
which  was  filled  and  emptied  twice  a  day  in  imitation  of  the  tides. 
Labourers  toiled  up  from  the  sea-shore,  which  was  many  miles 
distant,  carrying  pails  of  salt  water. 

In  the  play  a  priest  passing  through  Rokujo-kawara  meets  an  old 
man  carrying  salt-water  pails.  It  is  the  ghost  of  Toru.  In  t!  .«• 
second  part  he  rehearses  the  luxury  and  splendour  of  his  life  at  the 
great  palace  Rokujo-kawara  no  In. 


MAI-GURUMA1 

(THE    DANCE    WAGGONS) 

By    MI  YAM A SU     (DATE    UNKNOWN) 

A  MAN  of  Kamakura  went  for  a  year  to  the  Capital  and  fell  in  love 
with  a  girl  there.  When  it  was  time  for  him  to  return  to  Kamakura 
he  took  her  with  him.  But  his  parents  did  not  like  her,  and  one 
day  when  he  was  not  at  home,  they  turned  her  out  of  the  house. 

Thinking  that  she  would  have  gone  towards  the  Capital,  the  man 
set  out  in  pursuit  of  her.  At  dusk  he  came  to  a  village.  He  was 
told  that  if  he  lodged  there  he  must  take  part  next  day  in  the  waggon- 
dancing,  which  was  held  in  the  sixth  month  of  each  year  in  honour  of 
the  god  Gion.  He  told  them  that  he  was  heart-sore  and  foot-sore,  and 
could  not  dance. 

Next  day  the  villagers  formed  into  two  parties.  Th°.  first  party 
mounted  the  waggon  and  danced  the  Bijinzoroye,  a  ballad  about  the 
twelve  ladies  whom  Narihira  loved.  The  second  patty  danced  the 
ballad  called  Tsumado,  the  story  of  which  is: 

Hossho,  Abbot  of  the  Hiyeizan,  was  sitting  late  one  summer  night 
by  the  Window  of  the  Nine  Perceptions,  near  the  Couch  of  the 
Ten  Vehicles,  in  a  room  sprinkled  with  the  holy  water  of  Yoga, 
washed  by  the  moonlight  of  the  Three  Mysteries.  Suddenly  there 
was  a  sound  of  hammering  on  the  double-doors-  And  when  he 
opened  the  doors  and  looked — why,  there  stood  the  Chancellor  Kwan, 
who  had  died  on  the  twenty-fifth  day  of  the  second  month. 

"Why  have  you  come  so  late  in  the  night,  Chancellor  Kwan?" 

"When  I  lived  in  the  world  foul  tongues  slander d  1  me.  I  am 
come  to  destroy  my  enemies  with  thunder.  Only  the  Home  of 
Meditation  2  shall  be  spared.  But  if  you  will  make  me  one  promise,  I 
will  not  harm  you.  Swear  that  you  will  go  no  more  to  Court!" 

"I  would  not  go,  though  they  sent  twice  to  fetch  me.  But  if  they 
sent  a  third  time  .  .  ." 

Then   Chancellor   Kwan,   with   a   strange   look   on   his   face,   drew 
1  Sometimes  called  Bijin-zoroye  or  Bijin-zoroi. 

2  The  cell  of  the  Zen  priest. 
250 


SUMMARIES  251 


a  pomegranate  from  his  sleeve,  put  it  between  his  lips,  crunched  it 
with  his  teeth,  and  spat  it  at  the  double-doors. 

Suddenly  the  red  pomegranate  turned  into  fire;  a  great  flame 
flickered  over  the  double-doors. 

When  the  Abbot  saw  it,  he  twisted  his  fingers  into  the  Gesture 
of  Libation;  he  recited  the  Water-Spell  of  the  Letter  Yam,  and  the 
flames  died  down. 

And  the  double-doors  still  stand  before  the  Abbot's  cell,  on  the 
Hill  of  Hlyei. 

When  the  two  dances  were  over,  the  master  of  ceremonies  called 
for  a  dance  from  one  of  those  who  had  been  watching.  A  girl 
stepped  forward  and  said  she  would  dance  the  "Dance  of  Tora  Part- 
ing from  Sukenari."  Then  they  called  across  to  the  man  who  had 
lost  his  wife  (he  was  over  by  the  other  waggon).  "Come,  you 
must  dance  now."  "Forgive  me,  I  cannot  dance."  "Indeed  you 
must  dance."  "Then  I  will  dance  the  'Dance  of  Tora  Parting  from 
Sukenari.' " 

"But  this  dance,"  said  the  master  of  ceremonies,  "is  to  be  dai 
by  a  girl  on  the  other  side.     You  must  think  of  another  dance." 

MAN. 

I  know  no  other  dance. 

MASTER    OF    CEREMONIES. 

Here's  a  pretty  fix!  Ha,  I  have  it!  Let's  set  the  waggons  side 
by  side,  and  the  two  of  them  shall  dance  their  dance  together. 

When  they  step  up  on  to  the  waggons,  the  man  finds  that  his 
partner  is  the  wife  he  was  seeking  for.  They  begin  to  dance  the 
"Dance  of  Tora,"  but  soon  break  off  to  exchange  happy  greetings. 
The  plays  ends  with  a  great  ballet  of  rejoicing. 

There  is  one  whole  group  of  plays  to  which  I  have  hitherto  made  no 

reference:    those  in  which  a  mother  seeks  for  her  lost  child.     Mrs. 

Slopes   has   translated   Sumidagawa,   and   Mr   Sansom,   Sakuragawa. 

lier  well-known  play  of  this  kind  is  Miidera,  a  description  of 

\\lii--li  \\ill  be  found  in  an  appendix  at  the  end  of  this  book  (p.  265). 

A  few  other  plays,  such  as  Nishikigi,  MotomezukcL,  and  Kinuta,  I 
have  omitted  for  lack  of  space  and  because  it  did  not  seem  to  me  that 
I  could  in  any  important  way  improve  on  existing  versions  of  them. 


CHAPTER    VIII 
KYOGEN 


KYOGEN 

(FARCICAL    INTERLUDE) 
THE    BIRD-CATCHER    IN    HELL1 

(ESASHI    JUO) 

PERSONS 

YAMA,  KING  OF  HELL.  DEMONS. 

KIYOYORI,  THE  BIRD-CATCHER.    CHORUS. 

YAMA. 

Yama  the  King  of  Hell  comes  forth  to  stand 
At  the  Meeting  of  the  Ways.2 

(Shouting.) 
Yai,  yai.     Where  are  my  minions? 

DEMONS. 

Haa!     Here  we  are. 

YAMA. 

If  any  sinners  come  along,  set  upon  them  and  drive  them  off  to 
Hell. 

DEMONS. 

We  tremble  and  obey. 

(Enter  the  bird-catcher,  KIYOYORI). 

KIYOYORI. 

"All  men  are  sinners."     What  have  I  to  fear 

More  than  the  rest? 

My  name  is  Kiyoyori  the  Bird-Catcher.     I  was  very  well  known  OB 

1  Kyogen  Zcnsha,  p.  541.    This  farce  is  a  parody  of  such  No-plays  *•  VkaL 
•The  Buddhist  "Six  Ways,"  Rokudd. 

255 


256  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

the  Terrestrial  Plane.  But  the  span  of  my  years  came  to  its  ap- 
pointed close;  I  was  caught  in  the  Wind  of  Impermanence;  and  here 
I  am,  marching  to  the  Sunless  Land. 

Without  a  pang 

I  leave  the  world  where  I  was  wont  to  dwell, 

The  Temporal  World. 

Whither,  oh  whither  have  my  feet  carried  me? 

To  the  Six  Ways  already  I  have  come. 

Why,  here  I  am  already  at  the  meeting  of  the  Six  Ways  of  Existence. 
I  think  on  the  whole  I'll  go  to  Heaven. 

DEMON. 

Haha!  That  smells  like  a  man.  Why,  sure  enough  here's  a  sinner 
coming.  We  must  report  him.  (To  YAMA.)  Please,  sir,  here's 
the  first  sinner  arrived  already! 

YAMA. 

Then  bustle  him  to  Hell  at  once. 

DEMON. 

"Hell  is  ever  at  hand,"  *  which  is  more  than 
Can  be  said  of  Heaven.     (Seizing  KIYOYORI.) 
Come  on,  now,  come  on!      (KIYOYORI  resists.) 
Yai,  yai! 

Let  me  tell  you,  you're  showing  a  great 
Deal  more  spirit  than  most  sinners  do. 
What  was  your  job  when  you  were  on  the 
Terrestrial  Plane? 

KIYOYORI. 

I  was  Kiyoyori,  the  famous  bird-catcher. 

DEMON. 

Bird-catcher?  That's  bad.  Taking  life  from  morning  to  night. 
That's  very  serious,  you  know.  I  am  afraid  you  will  have  to  go  to 
Hell. 

KIYOYORI. 

Really,  I  don't  consider  I'm  as  bad  as  all  that.  I  should  be  very 
much  obliged  if  you  would  let  me  go  to  Heaven. 

1  See  Ukai,  p.  169. 


K  Y  6  G  E  N  257 


DEMON. 

We  must  ask  King  Yama  about  this.     (To  YAMA.)     Please  sir—! 

YAMA. 

Well,  what  is  it? 

DEMON. 

It's  like  this.  The  sinner  says  that  on  the  Terrestrial  Plane  he  was 
a  well-known  bird-catcher.  Now  that  means  taking  life  all  the  time; 
a  serious  matter,  and  he  certainly  ought  to  go  to  Hell.  But 
when  we  told  him  so,  he  said  we'd  entirely  misjudged  him. 

What  had  we  better  do  about  it? 

YAMA. 

You'd  better  send  him  to  me. 

DEMON. 

Very  well.  (To  KIYOYORI.)  Come  along,  King  Yama  says  he'll 
see  you  himself. 

KIYOYORI. 
I'm  coming. 

DEMON. 

Here's  that  sinner  you  sent  for. 

YAMA. 

Listen  to  me,  you  sinner.  I  understand  that  when  you  were  in 
thr  world  you  spent  your  whole  time  snaring  birds.  You  are  a  very 
bad  man  and  must  go  to  Hell  at  once. 

KIYOYOKI 

That's  all  very  well.  But  the  birds  I  caught  were  sold  to  gentlemen 
to  feed  their  falcons  on;  so  there  was  really  no  harm  in  it. 

YAMA. 

"Falcon"  is  another  kind  of  bird,  isn't  it? 

KIYOYORI. 

Yes,  that's  right. 


258  THE  NO   PLAYS   OF  JAPAN 

YAMA. 

Well  then,  I  really  don't  see  that  there  was  much  harm  in  it. 

KIYOYORI. 

I  see  you  take  my  view.  It  was  the  falcons  who  were  to  blame, 
not  I.  That  being  so,  I  should  be  very  much  obliged  if  you  would 
allow  me  to  go  straight  to  Heaven. 

YAMA  (reciting  in  the  No  style.) 
Then  the  great  King  of  Hell— 
Because,  though  on  the  Hill  of  Death 
Many  birds  flew,  he  had  not  tasted  one, 
"Come,  take  your  pole,"  he  cried,  and  here  and  now 
Give  us  a  demonstration  of  your  art. 
Then  go  in  peace. 

KIYOYORI. 

Nothing  could  be  simpler. 

I  will  catch  a  few  birds  and  present  them  to  you. 

Then  he  took  his  pole,  and  crying 

"To  the  hunt,  to  the  hunt!   .  .  ." 

CHORUS. 

"To  the  bird-hunt,"  he  cried, 

And  suddenly  from  the  steep  paths  of  the  southern  side  of  the 

Hill  of  Death 
Many  birds  came  flying. 
Then  swifter  than  sight  his  pole 
Darted  among  them. 
"I  will  roast  them,"  he  cried. 
And  when  they  were  cooked, 
"Please  try  one,"  and  he  offered  them  to  the  King. 

YAMA  (greedily). 

Let  me  eat  it,  let  me  eat  it. 

(Eats,  smacking  his  lips.) 

Well !     I  must  say  they  taste  uncommonly  good ! 

KIYOYORI  (to  the  DEMONS). 

Perhaps  you  would  like  to  try  some? 


KYOGEN  259 


DEMONS. 

Oh,  thank  you!  (They  eat  greedily  and  snatch.)  I  want  that  bit! 
No,  it's  mine!  What  a  flavour! 

YAMA. 

I  never  tasted  anything  so  nice.  You  have  given  us  such  a  treat 
that  I  am  going  to  send  you  back  to  the  world  to  go  on  bird-catching 
for  another  three  years. 

KIYOYORI. 

I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  I'm  sure. 

CHORUS. 

You  shall  catch  many  birds, 

Pheasant,  pigeon,  heron  and  stork. 

They  shall  not  elude  you,  but  fall 

Fast  into  the  fatal  snare. 

So  he,  reprieved,  turned  back  towards  the  World; 

But  Yama,  loth  to  see  him  go,  bestowed 

A  jewelled  crown,  which  Kiyoyori  bore 

Respectfully  to  the  Terrestrial  Plane, 

There  to  begin  his  second  span  of  life. 


SHORT    BIBLIOGRAPHY 

EUROPEAN 

B.  H.  Chamberlain:  The  Classical  Poetry  of  the  Japanese,  1880  (Rhymed  para- 
phrases of  Sesshoseki,  Kantan,  Nakamitsu  and  part  of  Hagoromo;  transla- 
tions of  the  farces  Honekawa  and  Zazen) . 

The  Chrysanthemum,  1882,    Translation  of  Hachi  no  Ki. 

F.  W.  K.  Muller  in  Festschrift  f.  Adolf  Bastion,  pp.  513-537,  Ikkaku  Sennin, 
eine  mittelalterliche—Oper,  18%. 

Aston,  History  of  Japanese  Literature,  1899.  Osman  Edwards:  Japanese  Plays 
and  Playfellows,  1901.  (Refers  to  performances  of  Shunkwan,  Koi  no  Omoni, 
Aoi  no  Uye,  Benkei  in  the  Boat  and  Tsuchigumo.) 

F.  Brinkley,  Japan,  III.  21-60,  1901-2.  (Translates  Ataka  and  the  farce  Sannin 
Katawa.) 

F.  Victor  Dickins,  Japanese  Texts,  1906.     (Text  and  Translation  of  Takasago) . 
K.  Florenz,  Geschichte  d.  Japanischen  Literatur,   1906.     (Translations  of   Taka- 

sago  and  Benkei  in  the  Boat;   summaries  of  Ataka,  Mochizuki  and  Hanjo. 
Translation   of   the   farce   Hagi-Daimyo.) 

N.  Peri:  Etudes  sur  le  drome  lyrique  japonais,  in  Bulletin  de  UEcole  d* Ex- 
treme-Orient, 1909-1913.  (Includes  translations  of  Oimatsu,  Atsumori, 
Ohara  Goko,  Sotoba  Komachi  and  The  Damask  Drum.) 

G.  B.  Sansom:     Translations  of  Ataka,  Benkei  in  the  Boat  and  Sakuragawa. 

H.  L.  Joly:     Notes  on  masks,  dances,  etc.,  in  Transactions  of  Japan  Society,  1912. 
M.  Slopes:     Plays  of  Old  Japan,  1913.     (Translations  of  Motomezuka,  Kagekiyo 

and  Sumidagawa;  summary  of  Tamura.) 
E.   Fenollosa   and   Ezra   Pound:     Noh   or   Accomplishment,    1916.     (Translations 

by   E.  F.,   adapted   by   E.    P.     Gives  some   account   of   about  twenty   plays. 

The  versions  of  E.  F.  seem  to  have  been  fragmentary  and  inaccurate;   but 

wherever  Mr.   Pound  had  adequate   material  to  work   upon  he  has  used  it 

admirably.) 
See  also  general  articles  on  the  Japanese  drama,  such  as  A.  Lloyd's  in  Trans,  of 

Asiatic  Society  of  Japan,  1908. 

Yone  Noguchi:     Twelve  Kyogen  (text  and  translation),  1911. 
M.  A.  Hincks:     The  Japanese  Dance,  32  pp.,  1910. 

JAPANESE 

(Only  a  few  important  works  are  selected) 
Kwadensho:     the   Later  Kwadensho   in   8  vols.,    first   published   c.    1600.     (The 

British   Museum   possesses  what   is   apparently  an  early  eighteenth   century 

reprint.) 
No  no  Shiori:     by  Owada  Tateki,  6  vols.     (Description  of  the  modus  operandi 

of  91  plays),  1903. 
Yokyoku  Hyoshaku:  edited  by  Owada  Tateki,  9  vols.,   1907-8.    Texts  of  about 

270  plays,  with  commentary.    Referred  to  by  me  as  "Owada." 
Nogaku  Daijiten:    by  Masada  and  Amaya,  2  vols.     (Dictionary  of  No.) 

260 


SHORT     BIBLIOGRAPHY  261 

Seami  Juroku-bu  Shu:     Works  of  Seami,  1909. 

Yokyoku  Sosho:     edited  by  Y.  Haga  and  N.  Sasaki  ,3  vols.     (Texts  of  about 

500  plays  with  short  notes.     Referred  to  by  me  as  "Haga.") 
Zenchiku  Shu:     Works  of  Seami's  son-in-law,   1917. 
Kyogen  Zenshu:     Complete  Collection  of  Farces,  1910. 
Jibyoshi  Seigi:      Yamazaki   Gakudo,  1915.     (A  study  of    No-rhythm.) 
Yukyoku    Kaisttsu:     No-plays  explained  in  colloquial,  by  K.  Kawashima,  1913. 
Magazines   such    as   Nogaku    Gwahd,    Ydkyokukai,   etc.;    picture    postcards    and 

albums  of  photographs  such  as  Nogaku,  Mandai  Kagami,  1916. 
Ryojin  Hissho:     Folk-songs  collected  in  12th  century  and  rediscovered  in  1911. 


APPENDIX    1 

MODERN   NO   LETTERS   FROM 

THE  fact  that  No  did  not  disappear  with  the  overthrow  of  the  dhogun 
in  1863  was  almost  solely  due  to  the  efforts  of  Umewaka  Minoru 
(1828~1909),  whose  ancestors  had  for  generations  played  tsure  parts 
in  the  Kwanze  theatre.  When  the  Mikado  was  restored  in  1868 
Kiyotaka,  head  of  the  Kwanze  line,  was  convinced  that  an  art 
so  intimately  connected  with  the  Shogunate  must  perish  with  it,  and 
fled  to  Shizuoka  where  the  fallen  Shogun  was  living  in  retreat. 

Minoru  alone  remained  behind,  built  himself  a  theatre1  (1869-70) 
and  "manned  his  lonely  rampart."  When  confidence  was  re-estab- 
lished the  other  "troupes"  soon  returned,  so  that  henceforward  five 
theatres  existed,  the  four  of  earlier  days  and  that  of  Umewaka  as  a 
fifth.  Minoru  was  succeeded  by  his  brilliant  sons,  Mansaburo  and 
Rokurd,  who  in  1919  opened  a  new  Umewaka  theatre.  As  a  compli- 
ment to  the  Umewaka  family  and  a  tribute  to  its  services,  actors  of 
the  three  other  "schools"  took  part  in  the  opening  ceremony,  but 
the  Kwanzes  refused  to  do  so.  The  dispute  turns  on  the  right  to 
grant  certificates  of  efficiency  (menjd)  which,  according  to  the  Kwanzess' 
claim,  belongs  only  to  Motoshige,  the  head  of  their  school.  Such 
certificates  have,  in  fact,  been  issued  successively  by  Minoru,  his 
sons  and  the  "renegade"  Kwanze  Tetsunojo,  who  sides  with  the 
Umewaka.  The  validity  of  Minoru's  certificates  was,  I  believe,  never 
disputed  during  his  lifetime. 

To  complete  this  note  on  modern  No  I  include  the  following  extracts 
from  letters  written  in  1916  by  Mr.  Oswald  Sickert  to  Mr.  Charles 
Ricketts.  The  sender  and  recipient  of  the  letters  both  authorized  me 
to  use  them,  and  for  this  permission  I  am  deeply  grateful.  But  1 
wish  that  Mr.  Sickert,  whose  memories  of  No  must  already  be  a 
little  dimmed,  had  had  the  leisure  to  write  a  book  of  his  own  on  the 
two  dramatic  arts  that  so  deeply  interested  him  in  Japan,  the  No  and 
the  Kabuki. 

"It's  odd  if  people  describe  the  No  performance  as  a  thing  that 
is  simple  or  unsophisticated  or  unelaborated.    The  poem,  to  begin  with, 
1  Or,  according  to  Fenollosa,  bought  a  stage  belonging  to  an  ex-daimyo. 


APPENDIX  I  263 


is  not  simple,  but  it  has  a  lyrical  slenderness  which  wouldn't 
one  would  say,  lead  anybody  to  think  of  going  such  lengths  as  to  dis- 
tribute its  recitation  among  a  chorus  and  actors,  thus  requiring  perhaps 
eleven  men  to  say  the  words,  with  two  or  three  drums  and  a  flute 
added,  and  masks  and  costumes  fit  for  a  museum  and  angelic  proper- 
ties, and  special  stages,  and  attendants  to  wipe,  in  this  hot  weather, 
the  sweat  from  immovable  hands  and  from  under  chins.  The  volume 
of  what  goes  to  a  performance  is  large,  but  it's  all  cut  down  out- 
wardly and  bent  inwards.  As  for  the  recitation,  the  first  necessity 
is  to  eliminate  direct  expressiveness  in  the  saying  of  the  words.  This 
seems  obvious  in  the  saying  of  any  good  poetry.  The  chorus  chants 
(it's  rather  like  a  Gregorian  chant),  the  actors  intone.  Both  may 
come  to  singing,  only  not  with  any  tune  that  might  carry  you  off  by 
itself,  ^et.  \\ithin  the  limitations  of  intoning,  with  some  turns.  th< 
actor  taking  the  women's  parts  will  achieve  a  pitch  of  pathetic  in- 
trn-ity  beyond  the  reach  of  one  who  sings  words  to  an  air  that  has 
an  existence  of  its  own,  or  who  recites  with  meaning.  The  No  actor 
is  not  directly  expressive,  it's  always  the  poem  he  is  doing  and 
throwing  you  back  on. 

"I  suppose  the  mask  may  have  originated  in  a  priest's  needing 
to  impersonate  an  angel  or  a  beautiful  girl,  or  an  evil  spirit;  but 
its  justification,  as  against  make-up,  is  absolute  for  the  No  purpose. 
I  saw  in  the  same  week  Funa  Benkei,  adapted  for  the  theatre,  at  the 
Imperial  and  on  a  No  stage.  At  the  theatre,  the  part  of  Shizuka,  the 
mistress  whom  Yoshitsune  the  pursued  young  lord  is  persuaded  to 
send  away,  was  taken  by  Baiko.  It  was  one  of  his  nights,  and  all 
the  evening,  as  three  different  women  and  a  ghost,  he  was  so  that 
I  shall  not  again  ever  so  much  care  about  a  beautiful  woman  taken 
by  a  beautiful  woman.  But  in  the  theatre  version  of  Funa  Benkci, 
Shizuka  wore  no  mask,  and  when  she  pleaded,  Baiko,  of  course,  acted; 
it  was  charming;  but  Heaven  knows  what  words  he  was  saying — 
certainly  he  was  not  turning  the  mind  of  his  audience  in  upon  any 
masterpiece  of  words,  rhythm  and  poetical  fancy.  He  was  acting 
the  situation.  The  No  performer,  on  the  other  hand,  is  intensifv 
the  poet's  fancy.  From  sight  of  the  masks  hung  up  alone,  I 
not  iniau'iiu'd  how  well  their  mixture  of  vacancy  and  realism  would 
<ln  tlir  tri.k.  Thr  masks  are  not  wayward,  not  extravagant  (even 
the  devil's  masks  are  realistic);  but  they  are  undoubtedly  masks 
on  with  a  band,  and  they  effect  the  purpose  of  achieving  an  impassive 
countenance  of  a  cast  suited  to  the  character — impassive  save  that, 
with  a  good  actor  and  a  mask  of  a  beautiful  woman  that  just  hits 
off  the  balance  between  too  much  and  too  little  physiognomy,  I'd 


264  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

swear  that  at  the  right  moments  the  mask  is  affected,  its  expression 
intensifies,  it  lives. 

"The  costumes  are  tremendous,  elaborate,  often  priceless  heirlooms; 
but  again  they  are  not  extravagant,  'on  their  own,'  being  all  distinctly 
hieratic  (as  indeed  is  the  whole  performance,  a  feature  historically 
deriving,  maybe,  from  its  original  source  among  priests,  but  just 
what  one  would  desiderate  if  one  were  creating  a  No  performance 
out  of  the  blue),  because  the  hieratic  helps  to  create  and  maintain  a 
host  of  restrictions  and  conventions  which  good  taste  alone,  even 
in  Japan,  could  scarcely  have  preserved  against  the  fatal  erosion 
of  reason. 

"The  masked  actors  of  beautiful  women  are  stuffed  out  and  by 
some  device  increase  the  appearance  of  height,  though  all  go  in 
socks  and  apparently  with  bent  knees.  The  great  masked  figure,  glid- 
ing without  lifting  the  heels,  but  with  all  the  more  appearance  of  swift- 
ness, to  the  front  of  the  stage,  is  the  most  ecstatic  thing  to  sit  under, 
and  the  most  that  a  man  can  do  to  act  what  people  mean  by  'poetical,' 
something  removed  from  reality  but  not  remote,  fascinating  so  that 
you  fall  in  love  with  it,  but  more  than  you  would  care  to  trifle  with. 
This  movement  occurs  in  the  dances  which  come  in  some  plays — I 
think  always  as  dances  by  characters  invited  to  dance — and  which 
are  the  best  moments  for  the  stranger,  since  then  alone  does  the 
rhythm  of  the  drums  become  regular  enough  for  him  to  recognize  it. 
For  that  is  really,  I  am  sure,  the  bottom  essential  of  the  No  repre- 
sentation— the  rhythm  marked  by  two  drums.  For  quite  long  intervals 
nothing  else  occurs.  No  actor  is  on  the  stage,  no  word  is  uttered, 
but  the  sharp  rap  sounds  with  the  thimbled  finger  as  on  a  box  and 
the  stumpy  little  thud  of  the  bare  hands  follows,  or  coincides,  from 
the  second  drum  and  both  players  give  a  crooning  whoop.  In  some 
way,  which  I  can't  catch,  that  rhythm  surely  plays  into  the  measure 
of  the  recitation  when  it  comes  and  into  the  movements  of  the  actors 
when  they  come.  You  know  how  people  everywhere  will  persist  in 
justifying  the  admirable  in  an  art  on  the  ground  of  the  beautiful 
ideas  it  presents.  So  my  friends  tell  me  the  drum  beats  suggest  the 
travelling  of  the  pilgrim  who  is  often  the  hinge  of  the  episode.  I 
feel  like  a  Japanese  who  wants  to  know  whether  a  sonnet  has  any 
particular  number  of  lines,  and  any  order  for  its  rhymes  and  repeats, 
and  gets  disquisitions  on  Shakespeare's  fancy  which  might  also  apply 
to  a  speech  in  blank  verse.  Anyway,  it  is  ever  so  evident  that  the 
musicians  do  something  extremely  difficult  and  tricky.  The  same 
musicians  don't  seem  to  play  on  through  the  three  pieces  which  make 


APPENDIX   I  265 


a  programme.  As  they  have  no  book  (and  don't  even  look  at  each 
other),  they  must  know  the  performance  by  heart,  and  the  stranger's 
attention  is  often  called  by  a  friend  to  one  or  the  other  who  is  specially 
famous  for  his  skill.  Some  one  tried  to  explain  the  relation  between 
the  musicians  and  the  actors  by  saying  that  a  perpetual  sort  of 
contest  went  on  between  them.  Certainly  there  seems  to  be  in  a  No 
performance  some  common  goal  which  has  to  be  strained  for  every 
time,  immensely  practised  though  the  performers  are.  During  the 
dance  this  drum  rhythm  speeds  up  to  a  felt  time,  and  at  moments 

teat  stress,  as  when  an  avenging  ghost  swims  on  with  a  spear, 
a  third  drum,  played  with  sticks,  comes  in  with  rapid  regular  beats, 
louder  and  softer.  Sometimes  when  the  beats  are  not  so  followable, 
but  anyway  quicker  in  succession,  I  seem  to  make  out  that  they  mu-t 
be  involving  themselves  in  some  business  of  syncopation,  or  the  catch- 
ing up  and  outstripping  of  a  slow  beat  by  a  quicker  one.  But 
the  ordinary  beats  are  too  far  apart  for  me  to  feel  any  rhythm 

"The  best  single  moment  I  have  seen  was  the  dance  of  thanks 
to  the  fisherman  who  returns  to  the  divine  lady  the  Hagoromo,  the 
robe  without  which  even  an  angel  cannot  fly.  It  seemed  to  me  an 
example  of  the  excellent  rule  in  art  that,  if  a  right  thing  is  perhaps 
rather  dull  or  monotonous  lasting  five  minutes,  you  will  not  cure  the 
defect  by  cutting  the  performance  to  two  and  a  half  minutes;  rather 

it  ten  minutes.  If  it's  still  perhaps  rather  dull,  try  twenty  minutes 
or  an  hour.  This  presupposes  that  your  limitations  are  right  and  that 
you  are  exploiting  them.  The  thing  may  seem  dull  at  first  because 
at  first  it  is  the  limitations  the  spectator  feels;  but  the  more  these 
are  exploited  the  less  they  are  felt  to  be  limitations,  and  the  more 
they  become  a  medium.  The  divine  lady  returned  on  her  steps  at 

t  length  and  fully  six  times  after  I  had  thm  <>uld  not  bear 

it  another  moment.  She  went  on  for  twenty  minutes,  perhaps,  or  an 
hour  or  a  night;  I  lost  count  of  time;  but  I  shall  not  recover  from 
the  loncring  she  left  when  at  last  she  floated  backwards  and  under 
the  fatal  uplifted  curtain.  The  movements,  even  in  the  dance,  are 
'I  if  one  tries  to  describe  or  relate  tin-in.  l>ut  it  may  be 
true,  as  they  say,  that  the  No  actor  works  at  an  intense  and 
centr  !i  of  all  his  thnu  '  energies,  and  this  tolls  through 

his  impassive  •  -Mask  and  all  his  clothes  and  his  slow  movements. 

Certainly  the  longer  I  looked  at  the  divine  lady,  the  more  she  seemed 
to  me  to  be  in  action,  though  sometimes  the  n  <-d  there, 

was  so  slight  that  it  could  be  that  she  had  worked  us  up  to  the  fine 
edge  of  ;  her  breathing.  There  was  only  one  memorable 


266  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

quick  motion  in  the  dance,  the  throwing  of  the  stiff  deep  gauze 
sleeve  over  the  head,  over  the  crown  with  its  lotus  and  bell  tassels. 
My  wife  has  no  inclination  to  deceive  herself  with  the  fascination  of 
what  she  can't  explain,  and  she  agreed  that  this  was  the  most  beautiful 
thing  that  had  ever  been  seen. 

"You  will  see  the  two  drum  players  in  many  of  the  cards.  With 
them  sits  the  player  on  the  fue,  a  transverse  flute,  who  joins  in  at 
moments  with  what  often  is,  if  you  take  it  down,  the  same  phrase, 
though  it  sounds  varied  as  the  player  is  not  often  exactly  on  any  note 
that  you  can  take  down.  The  dropping  of  the  flute's  note  at  the 
end  of  the  phrase,  which  before  always  went  up,  is  the  nearest  ap- 
proach to  the  'curtain'  of  the  theatre.  It  is  very  touching.  The 
poem  has  come  to  an  end.  The  figures  turn  and  walk  off.  .  .  . 

"I  have  been  to  more  No  performances,  always  with  increasing 
recognition  of  the  importance  attaching  to  the  beat,  a  subject  on 
which  I  have  got  some  assurance  from  an  expert  kindly  directed  to 
me  by  a  friend.  From  beginning  to  end,  all  the  words  of  every  No 
play  fit  into  an  8-beat  measure,  and  a  performer  who  sat  in  the 
dark,  tapping  the  measure  while  skilfully  weaving  in  the  words, 
would  give  a  No  audience  the  essential  ground  of  its  pleasure.  If 
they  are  not  actually  being  followed  on  books,  in  which  they  are 
printed  as  ticks  alongside  the  text,  the  beats  are  going  on  inside 
(often  to  the  finger  tips  of)  all  the  people  whom  I  notice  to  be 
regular  attendants  at  No  performances.  I  saw  a  play  (not  a  good 
one)  at  the  Kabukiza  in  which  a  No  master  refuses  a  pupil  a 
secret  in  his  art.  For  some  reason  the  pupil  attaches  importance 
to  being  shown  the  way  in  this  difficult  point.  The  master's  daughter 
takes  poison  and,  in  fulfilment  of  her  dying  request,  the  master 
consents  to  show  the  pupil.  It  was  no  subtlety  of  gesture,  no  matter 
of  voice  or  mask,  that  brought  things  to  such  straits.  The  master 
knelt  at  his  desk,  and,  beating  with  his  fan,  began  reciting  a  passage, 
showing  how  the  words  were  distributed  in  the  beat. 

"It  is  very  seldom  that  every  beat  in  the  eight  is  marked  by  a 
drum.  I  don't  think  this  happens  save  in  those  plays  where  the 
taiko  (the  real  drum  played  with  sticks)  takes  part,  generally  in  an 
important  or  agitated  dance.  In  the  ordinary  course,  only  certain 
of  the  eight  beats  are  marked  by  the  two  players  on  the  tsuzumi 
(one  held  on  the  knee,  the  other  over  the  shoulder).  The  Japanese 
get  much  more  out  of  subtleties  of  rhythm  (or,  rather,  out  of  playing 
hide-and-seek  with  one  simple  rhythm)  than  we  do  and  are  corre- 


APPENDIX   I  267 


spondingly  lax  about  the  interval  between  one  note  and  another.  I 
don't  believe  a  European  would  have  thought  of  dividing  the  drum 
beats  between  two  instruments.  It  must  be  horribly  tricky  to  do. 
This  division  gives  variety,  for  the  big  tsuzumi  yields  a  clack  and 
the  small  yields  something  between  a  whop  and  a  thud. 

"As  for  masks,  one  would  have  to  see  very  many  performances,  I 
fancy,  and  think  a  lot,  before  one  got  on  to  any  philosophy  of  their 
fascination  and  effectiveness.  I  am  always  impressed  by  the  realism, 
the  naturalness  of  the  No  mask.  It  is  not  fanciful  in  any  obvious 
•.  After  a  few  performances,  I  found  I  knew  when  a  mask  was  a 
particularly  good  one.  My  preferences  turned  out  to  be  precious 
heirlooms  two  hundred  years  old.  In  one  instance  when,  for  a  reason 
1  don't  yet  understand,  Rokuro  changed  his  mask  after  death  for 
another  of  the  same  cast,  I  could  not  say  why  the  first  was  better  than 
the  second — certainly  not  for  a  pleasanter  surface,  for  it  was  shining 
like  lacquer;  I  noticed  the  features  were  more  pronounced.  We  were 
allowed  the  thrill  of  being  let  into  the  room  of  the  mirror,  im- 
mediately behind  the  curtain,  and  saw  Rokuro  have  his  mask  fitted 
and  make  his  entry  after  a  last  touch  by  his  brother  Mansaburo. 
These  brothers  are  Umewaka,  belong  to  the  Kwanze  School,  and  have 
a  stage  of  their  own.  I  am  told  that  my  preference  for  them  is 
natural  to  a  beginner  and  that  later  one  likes  as  much,  or  belter, 
the  more  masculine  style  of  the  Hosho.  At  present  Nagashi  (Mat- 
sumoto),  the  chief  performer  of  this  school  (which  has  a  lovely 
stage  and  a  very  aristocratic  clientele),  seems  to  me  like  an  upright 
gentleman  who  has  learned  his  lesson,  while  Rokuro  and  Mansaburo 
are  actors.  Both  brothers  have  beautiful  voices.  The  Hosho  people 
speak  with  a  thickness  in  the  throat.  But  I  know  it  is  absurd  for 
me  to  feel  critical  about  anything.  Moreover,  Rokuro  and  Nagashi 
would  not  take  the  same  parts. 

"MIIDERA.  A  mother,  crazed  by  the  straying  away  of  her  little 
boy,  is  advised  by  a  neighbour  any  way  to  go  to  Otsu,  for  there  stands 
the  temple  of  Mii  which  she  had  seen  in  a  dream. 

'The  priests  of  Miidera,  with  the  little  boy  among  them,  are 
out  in  the  temple  yard  viewing  the  full  autumn  moon.  The  attendant 
tolls  the  great  bell,  whose  lovely  note  wavers  long  over  the  lake 
below.  The  mad  mother  appears  on  the  scene,  and,  drawn  to  the 
bell,  makes  to  toll  it.  The  head  priest  forbids  her.  There  follows  an 
argument  full  of  bell  lore,  and  its  effect  on  troubled  hearts.  She 
t<>IU  the  bell,  and  mother  and  son  recognize  earh  «.ii 

"One  of  the  cards  I  sent  shows  the  mother  tolling  the  bell.     She 


268  THE   NO   PLAYS   OF   JAPAN 

comes  on  first  in  a  red  flowered  robe,  is  advised  by  the  neighbour 
and  goes  off.  The  priests  come  on.  The  sounding  of  the  bell  is 
the  hinge  of  everything,  a  thing  of  great  sentiment.  As  it  is,  in 
reality,  one  of  the  most  touching  things  in  the  world,  it  seemed  to 
me  clever  that  there  was  no  attempt  to  represent  it.  On  the  contrary, 
the  action  centred  in  the  toller,  a  cheery  old  gossiper  used  to  the 
job,  who  more  or  less  spat  on  his  hands  and  said  Heave  ho  as  he 
swung  the  imaginary  horizontal  beam.  Only  when  he  had  done  so, 
he  continued  his  Heave  ho  in  a  kind  of  long  echoing  hum.  Then  he 
danced.  The  mad  mother  came  on  in  another  dress,  very  strange, 
light  mauve  gauze  over  white,  no  pattern,  and  the  bough  in  her 
hand.  Why,  when  the  old  man  had  already  tolled,  for  one's  imagina- 
tion, a  non-existent  bell  in  the  real  way  with  a  heavy  beam,  the  mother 
should  actually  pull  a  coloured  ribbon  tied  to  an  elaborate  toy, 
it  is  hard  to  say.  But  it  is  right. 

"I  saw  this  taken  by  Mansaburo,  who,  like  his  brother  Rokuro, 
has  a  beautiful  voice.  The  singing  is  so  unlike  ours,  that  at  first 
one  feels  nothing  about  it.  But  after  three  or  four  performances 
one  notices,  and  I  recognized  the  beauty  of  both  these  brothers' 
voices  before  I  knew  they  were  brothers,  or,  indeed,  that  they 
were  noted  in  any  way.  In  fact  I  was  still  in  the  state  when  I 
had  not  yet  realized  that  one  might  come  to  discussing  the  merits 
of  these  players  hidden  in  robes  and  masks  as  hotly  as  one  discusses 
the  qualities  of  the  favourites  on  the  ordinary  theatre. 

"I  don't  know  if  you  know  about  the  curtain.  Every  subsidiary 
detail  of  the  performance  possesses,  I  don't  know  how  to  say,  but  a 
solidity.  It's  there.  God  knows  how  it  came  there;  but  there  it  is, 
and  it's  not  a  contrivance,  not  an  'idea.'  The  entry  to  the  stage,  as  you 
know,  is  by  a  narrow  gallery,  beside  which  three  little  pine-trees  rise 
like  mile-stones.  This  gallery  ends  with  a  single  heavy  curtain,  which 
does  not  rise  as  ours  do,  or  draw  aside  or  fall  as  in  the  Japanese 
theatre.  It  sweeps  back,  only  bellying  a  little.  It  is,  in  fact,  as  I  saw 
when  I  was  allowed  behind,  lifted  by  poles  fixed  to  the  bottom  corners. 

The  poles  are  raised  rapidly  by  two  men  kneeling  a  good  way 
behind.  Suddenly  the  curtain  blows  back  as  by  a  wind,  and  the 
expected  figure,  whom  you  know  must  be  coming  or  something,  i.  e. 
suspense  is  prepared  by  what  has  already  happened,  is  framed  in 
the  opening,  and  there  pauses  an  instant.  I  am  speaking,  not  of 
the  first  entry,  but  of  the  second  one,  when  the  person  who  aroused 
the  pilgrim-visitor's  curiosity  as  a  temple-sweeper  or  a  water-carrier, 
and  vanished,  reappears  as  the  great  General  or  princely  Prime 


APPENDIX   I  269 


Minister  he  once  was.  The  stage-wait  necessitated  by  the  change  of 
costume  and  mask  is  filled  in  by  an  interminable  sayer  of  abort 
lines,  with  the  same  number  of  feet,  each  line  detached  from  the 
next  as  if  the  speaker  were  going  from  one  afterthought  to  another. 
He  is  a  bystander — perhaps  a  shepherd  in  one  play  and  a  fisherman 
in  another — who  knows  something,  and  dilates  on  it  to  fill  in  time. 
The  musicians  lay  aside  their  drums.  Everybody  just  waits.  Up 
sweeps  the  curtain,  and  with  the  re-entry  of  the  revealed  personage 
comes  the  intenser  and  quicker  second  part  for  which  the  slow  first 
part  was  a  preparation.  " 


APPENDIX    II 

SOME   of  the   facts   brought   to   light   by   the   discovery    of   Seami's 
Works:— 

(1)  It  had  long  been  suspected  that  the  current  Kwadensho  was  not  the  work 
of  Seami.     The  discovery  of  the  real  Kwadensho  has  made  this  certain. 

(2)  Traditional  dates  of  Kwanami  and  Seami  corrected. 

(3)  It  was  supposed  that  only   the  music  of  the  plays  was  written  by  their 
nominal    authors.     The    words   were   vaguely    attributed   to    "Zen    Priests."    We 
now  know   that   in  most  cases  Kwanami  and   Seami   played   the  triple  part   of 
author,1  musical  composer  and  actor. 

(4)  It  was  doubted  whether  in  the  fourteenth  century  Sarugaku  had  already 
become  a  serious   dramatic   performance.     We   now   know   that   it   then    differed 
little  (and  in  respect  of  seriousness  not  at  all)   from  No  as  it  exists  to-day. 

(5)  It  was  supposed  that   the   Chorus  existed  from  the   beginning.     We   now 
learn  from  Seami  that  it  was  a  novelty  in  1430.     Its  absence  must  have  been  the 
chief  feature  which  distinguished  the  Sarugaku  of  the  fourteenth  century  from 
the  No  of  to-day. 

(6)  Numerous   passages   prove  that  No   at  its  zenith  was  not  an  exclusively 
aristocratic  art.    The  audiences  were  very  varied. 

(7)  Seami  gives  details  about  the  musical  side  of  the  plays  as  performed  in 
the  fourteenth  century.    These  passages,  as  is  confessed  even  by  the  great  No- 
scholar,  Suzuki  Choko,  could  be  discussed  only  by  one  trained  in  No-music. 


1  Or   rather   "arranger,"   for  in   many   instances  he  adapted   already   existing 
Dengaku  or  Kowaka. 


270 


OQ  1 


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