TAKEDA IZUMO
THE PINE-TREE
(MATSU)
A Drama, adapted from the Japanese
WITH AN INTRODUCTORY CAUSERIE ON THE
JAPANESE THEATRE
BY
M. C. MARCUS
JAPANESE DRAWINGS
REPRODUCED BY KIND PERMISSION OF THE ORIENTAL
SUB-DEPARTMENT OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM.
NEW YORK
DUFFIELD & COMPANY
1916
CONTENTS
CAUSERIE ON THE JAPANESE THEATRE :
PAGE
Chapter I. SOME GLIMPSES OF OLD JAPANESE
LITERATURE n
II. THE ELEMENTS OF JAPANESE DRAMA 29
,, III. EARLY TRAGEDY AND COMEDY ... 39
IV. DEVELOPMENT OF THE DRAMA ... 49
V. THE CLASSICAL PERIOD. TAKEDA
IZUMO AND HIS " PlNE TREE " ... 57
VI. THEATRICAL CUSTOMS 71
PAGE
THE PINE-TREE /.. 85
384958
THE PINE-TREE
(MATSU)
THE CHICHESTEB PRESS,
30 & 31, FUKNIVAL STREET, HOLBOKN,
LONDON, B.C.
All rights reserved, especially that of translation into
foreign languages, including the Scandinavian, that of
theatrical performance and of kinematographic adaptation.
First published January igi6.
CAUSERIE
ON THE JAPANESE THEATRE
I.
SOME GLIMPSES OF OLD
JAPANESE LITERATURE.
3 HE literature of a nation is
H at once the result and the
mirror of its national
character. There is perhaps more
truth in this than in BUFFON'S " Le
style, cest rhomme" The Far-
Eastern insular empire has for
many a century enjoyed a civilisa-
tion which, with respect to the
material as well as the ideal side,
has reached a very high standard.
The most delicate flower of Japanese
civilisation is an extraordinary, lofty
sense of honour, which among
other things gives us the explana-
tion of that curious custom of
_ 11
SOME GLIMPSES OF
suicide called " Harakiri." But on
the other hand there exists a vast
amount of low, Oriental sensuality,
a continual incitement to lust and
cruelty. All these qualities, good
and bad, will be found in the
Japanese literature. Again, truly
artistic as they are, they seem never
to have sought to overstep the
limits of pure decorative art, and
just as in their paintings they have
always been content to treat the
human figure in a purely conven-
tional manner, without any light
and shade, so is their literature
generally somewhat misty and
lacking perspective.
Considering the uncommon talent
of the Japanese as a nation, and con-
sidering the extensive differences
which separate them from their
Mongol neighbours, the Chinese, it is
most remarkable that they should
have actually borrowed from them
12
OLD JAPANESE LITERATURE.
their written characters and even
some of their literary forms. More
than that, they kept the ideographic
Chinese writing even after they had
invented their own phonetic alpha-
bet, consisting of 48 letters, which
they write and pronounce in two
different fashions the katukana
(the square hand) and the fir ag ana
(the running hand) which has
several varying styles. There are
two distinct Japanese languages,
the spoken and the written. In the
latter one notices a great difference
in the inflexions, which are in
nearly all cases totally unlike those
used in the colloquial language.
Further, in writing, the Japanese
have kept a large amount of old
expressions and words fallen in
disuse in conversation. Finally, in
writing, they mix the Chinese
ideographic characters with the
Japanese double-meaning phonetic
13
SOME GLIMPSES OF
letters. All this may give an idea
how intensely difficult it is to read
and write Japanese. Like the
Chinese, the Japanese do not use
nib and writing ink, but brush and
Indian ink. The lines of writing are
perpendicular and read downwards
(for they say : " Writing shows
man's thoughts and man stands
upright"). The columns begin to
the extreme right of the reader,
and thus a Japanese book starts
where our volumes end.
Love is supposed to have inspired
the first ode composed in Japan,
the Emperor Jimmu having been
moved to song on meeting the
maiden Isuzu. It is said that at
this time namely, in the 7th
century B.C. there lived also a poet
called SosANO-ONO-MiKOTO. But
there is ground for disbelieving
_ 14 _
OLD JAPANESE LITERATURE.
ancient Japanese chronology. The
reason for such doubt is the extra-
ordinary longevity assigned by the
chronology to the first Mikados.
The Emperor Jimmu ascended the
throne in 660 B.C. Of his first
fourteen successors eleven are said
to have lived considerably over
one hundred years. One of them,
Keik5, reached the age of one
hundred and forty-three years,
while his predecessor, Suinin,
attained an age of but two years
less. These exaggerations which
only ceased after the year 399 A.D.
make it rather difficult to assign
correct dates to early historical
events. However this is of no
consequence. The one thing which
matters is that while Jimmu was
Mikado the poet SOSANO-ONO-
MIKOTO invented the national metre
called uta. It consists of thirty-one
syllables, sometimes thirty - two,
15 B
SOME GLIMPSES OF
arranged as a distich, but written
in five lines containing 5, 7, 5, 7,
and 7 syllables respectively. The
break is placed after the third line.
The meaning of each such distich
is continuous, though the last two
lines must either be an antithesis
to what has gone before, or a
varied expression of the identical
meaning. The first half always
prepares the reader for the second
one. Thus the following lament
of a mother on the loss of her
child :
5 Why has the harsh wind
7 Carried away the blossoms
5 With his savage breath
7 And left untouched, uninjured
7 The leaves of the worn out
tree?
Lyrical poetry soon became a
favourite study, and it is charac-
16
OLD JAPANESE LITERATURE.
teristic of the position of woman in
Japanese society that we find many
ladies among the crowd of poets,
ancient and modern. At the
beginning of the third century
SoTO-Oni-lME, the Mikado Inkyo's
Empress, was a celebrated poetess.
The most popular form of poetry
was and remained the lyric in the
uta form. There are serious and
jesting lyrics, erotic, didactic, and
satiric, full of quaint modes of
thought and turns of expression.
Yet it seems rather impossible to
translate them into a foreign
language, for there is no hope of
rendering all the allusions contained
in the original. LEON DE ROSNY,
in his Anthologie Japonaise, has,
however, succeeded in imitating
the delicacy of some of the erotic
lyrics. The Japanese possess
several collections of these national
lyrics. The oldest of these collec-
17
SOME GLIMPSES OF
tions dating from the third century
is called " Man-jo-shiu" which
means " the collection of one
thousand leaves." But the most
popular is the " Hyak-niu-ishiu " or
" collection of the hundred poets,"
which appeared much later and
contains several pieces written by
Emperors. This anthology is to be
found in the Mikado's palace as
well as in the beggar's hut, it exists
in the cheapest editions and in the
most magnificent, and everybody
knows the lyrics it contains. There
exists a metric English translation
of the " Hyak-niu-ishiu" by J. V.
DICKINS.
In the earliest times there was
but one seat of learning and litera-
ture in Japan : Kydto, the capital
of sensuous delight, Ky5to, where
the Mikado resided. The nobles
composing his court enjoyed gene-
rally a very quiet life, and loved to
18
OLD JAPANESE LITERATURE.
devote their time to poetry, which
they held in highest honour, and to
the writing of diaries. These
diaries form the first historical
works of the Japanese. A number
still exist and offer a fascinating
insight into the life at Kyoto in
days of yore. Again, it is to be
noted that many of the best
writings were done by women.
The first work treating of
Japanese history seems to have been
written in 620 A.D., with the Empress
SUIKO (593 - 628) as editress, but
it has not been preserved. The
same fate occurred to the next work
which appeared sixty years later.
But at the same time the Mikado
Temmu (673-686) ordered that all
the then existing records should be
compiled and carefully examined
to remove all possible mistakes.
One of the noblemen of the court,
called HIYEDA - NO - ARE (some
19
SOME GLIMPSES OF
writers affirm that HIYEDA-NO-ARE
was a woman J was entrusted with
the editorship. Soon, however,
Temmu died, and it was only in 711
during the reign of the Empress
Gemnio (708-715) that the work
was finished and appeared under the
title <c Kojiki" which means " record
of ancient things."
Only nine years later another
similar work appeared under the
auspices of Gemnio's successor, the
Empress Gensho (715-723). Its
name was " Nihongi " (" The
Japanese Record"), and it seems
at first to have completely super-
seded the former work " Kojiki"
This is easy to understand. The
" Kojiki " was pure Japanese, and
had the object of preserving true
ancient Japanese spirit ; while the
" Nihongi " showed many traces
of Chinese influence and was in
accordance with Chinese ideas. It
20
OLD JAPANESE LITERATURE.
should be noted that a part of the
learned and of the ladies of the
court began at that time to devote
their studies to the cultivation of
the Chinese language. But more
than a thousand years later the
" Kojiki " came back to honours.
Under the title " Kojikiden " and
accompanied by a most elaborate
commentary it was republished
by the great historian MOTOORI
NOBINAGA. He worked at it for
32 years, from 1764 to 1796. The
printing of the great work took
about as long, from 1789 to 1822.
MOTOORI himself did not see the
printing finished, for he died in 1801.
For many centuries the writing
of poetry and of historical records
went on separately, side by side.
Finally, at the end of the twelfth
century, both were united in a
great epic. However, if I call the
work to which I allude an epic, it
21
SOME GLIMPSES OF
must not be thought that it can in
any way be compared to the pro-
ducts of real epic poetry, as for
instance the Homeric works. It is
much more in the style of our
mediaeval rhymed chronicles. The
title indicates this. It is called
Feike monogatari, which means a
" history of the Feike dynasty."
Its author's name was IKINAGA,
and the work numbers twelve
volumes. It is said that it was
popularised by some blind rhap-
sodists called seobuts.
The first brilliant period of
Japanese literature seems to have
occurred in the ninth and tenth
centuries ; and not of literature
only, but of art in general. It
was the time when the beautiful
Onono Komachi, the Japanese
Ninon de Lenclos, assembled in her
salon, if I may say so, all the wits
and high intellects of Ky5to ; the
_ 22
OLD JAPANESE LITERATURE.
time when HADA KAWAKATSU, the
Japanese Wagner, wrote his 33
musical dramas (although some
writers place him in the sixth
century, asserting that his
" operatic " works were already
completed in 586), the time when
the first erotic novels were pro-
duced ; the time when ARIWAEA
NO NARIHIRA, a dazzling lady-
killer, wrote his enchanting lyrics.
NARIHIRA was indeed a great
poet, and although a thousand years
have gone by, he still lives in the
memory of the Japanese, playing
somewhat the part of our Don
Juan. His was the most fasci-
nating beauty, and the pretty,
gentle ladies of Kyoto simply died
for his love.
It is by the way rather amusing
for us occidental people to see an
example of the taste of these
ladies. We possess several like-
i
23
SOME GLIMPSES OF
nesses of this Japanese Apollo
credited with so many tears of
beautiful women. OGATA KORIN,
who shares with HISHIKAWA
MORONOBU the reputation of the
greatest Japanese artist, has painted
NARIHIRA'S features on a good
many of his pictures. Of course,
these NARiHiRA-images are not to
be taken as real likenesses, for
KORIN (1657-1716) lived during
the second classical period, the
GENROKHu-era. But feeling a
certain affinity with the nobleman
of the ninth century he wanted
to give a decorative representation
of NARIHIRA'S characteristic
features. He shows the poet with
shaved eyebrows, with rather
extraordinary eyes and lips, with
enormous cheeks and a bull's^neck.
Such was the typical beauty ot this
immortal man, whose prominent
traits had been preserved in
24
OLD JAPANESE LITERATURE.
innumerable woodcuts, on parasols,
on shawls, on teapots, etc.
Not only have his work and his
portrait come down to us, but the
poet of the old, perfumed court has
himself b^en the hero of one of the
finest products of Japanese litera-
ture. An anonymous poet, soon
after NARIHIRA'S death, collected
all the many stories about his love
adventures, and wove them into a
charming garland of novels and
stories called Ise t Monogatari,
which means u stories from Ise."
The second period of brilliancy
in Japanese art and literature, the
GENROKHU-era, took place in the
thirty years between 1680 and
1710. It was a time which
strangely reminds us of our own
rococo period, a time of lavish
extravagance. After centuries of
civil^wars and bloody feuds, Japan
enjoyed then the blessings of a
25
SOME GLIMPSES OF
long and happy peace, which had
begun in 1603 when the Tokugawa
dynasty came to the office of
shogun.
The shtgun (the full title Sei-i-
tai- shogun means " barbarian sub-
jugating commander in chief ")
was an hereditary chancellor of
the Empire, prime minister and
generalissimo, who held the real
power, the shogunate having been
created in 1192 by the Emperor
Takahira. After being successively
in the hands of the Minamoto and
the Hojo family, the supremacy
fell in 1603 into the hands of the
Tokugawa dynasty by the appoint-
ment of lyeyasu, the most con-
summate politician and general in
Japanese history. He put an end
to the scenes of bloodshed and
anarchy from which the whole
country had suffered terribly for
two centuries back. By and by
26
OLD JAPANESE LITERATURE.
the power of the noblemen was
broken. lyeyasu began the work,
his son Hidetada and his grandson
lyemitsu completed it. From this
time the nobles sought to satisfy
their ambition in fields other than
military. Trade and manufacture
received thus a great impetus, and
the same may be said of art and
literature.
Simplicity of life disappeared,
and sybaritism prevailed. People
remained for hours in the tea-houses
talking of frivolous, nay, of lasci-
vious things. In literature romanti-
cism was at first most appreciated.
But soon the piquancy which was
sought for in life began to show itself
in literature. At least one name must
be mentioned : SAIKAKU, who wrote
the most wonderful satirical novels,
and whose work may best be com-
pared to that of the Neronian
chronicler Petronius. It is perhaps
27
SOME GLIMPSES OF
OLD JAPANESE LITERATURE.
remarkable that, while Petronius
lived in Marseilles which was
already then a centre of trade,
SAIKAKU resided in Osaka which
played a similar part. And like
Petronius, SAIKAKU spent his days
in sleep and his nights in pleasure.
Like Petronius he became equally
famous as an accomplished volup-
tuary and as a successful writer.
Like Petronius the form of work he
introduced in the literature of his
country was the novel, based on the
every day experience of contem-
porary life. For that second era
of brilliancy in literature SAIKAKU
played the same part of "arbiter
elegantiae " as NARIHIRA had played
in the first. In both these poets
humour was combined with the rare
gift of conceiving and representing
human character.
28
II.
THE ELEMENTS OF
JAPANESE DRAMA.
P to this very day many
Japanese nobles feel a
certain repulsion for the
theatre. And certainly the drama
does not hold the position it enjoys
in Europe. This may also account
for the fact that no great classic
playwright such as Moliere or
Shakespeare was ever known in
Japan. Still, theatre-going is a
favourite amusement, especially
among the lower classes in the
large towns ; while persons of rank
prefer to engage actors and have
the plays performed in private at
_ 29
THE ELEMENTS
home. The Mikado has a court
theatre. Generally speaking, it is
not fashionable nowadays to go to a
public theatre, nor has it ever been
fashionable except in the GENROKHU-
era, when noblemen not only visited
the theatres, but even seem to have
taken part in the performances of
the musical dramas called no, which
mostly treat of patriotic legends.
The elements of the Japanese
drama are music, song and dance,
besides legendary or historical
narrative and pantomime. All
these elements are purely native.
But apart from these elements the
theatre is clearly to be regarded as
a Chinese importation. Nor has it
attempted to emancipate itself from
the conventional Chinese types.
Yet there is one difference between
Chinese and Japanese drama. The
30
OF JAPANESE DRAMA.
Chinese drama can never claim
to be regarded as really poetic,
not even in its diction, although its
phraseology is full of metaphorical
niceties and abounds in poetic
ornament ; while the Japanese
drama, like the Indian, is full of
true poetry. There exists a drama
" Iki - utsushi Asagao - nikki"
(" Asagao's true history "), a post-
humous work of the poet YAMAVA
KAKASHI, edited by SUISHO EN
SHUJIN, which is in parts as much
bathed in poetry as Kalidasa's
" Urvasi" and the maiden Miyuki
is as tender and charming a creature
as her celebrated Indian sister
Sakuntala. What does this prove ?
That Chinese influence may have
given new notions to the Japanese,
who are indeed the most adaptable
race on earth, but that it has been
unable to modify deeply the normal
evolution of the Japanese soul.
31 c
THE ELEMENTS
I have stated music and dance to
be elements of the Japanese theatre.
I am not sure whether music is an
adequate word. The Japanese seems
to me to have no tune at all. There
are scales, but the intervals are
shocking to our ears. This is the
major scale :
Kiu, sho, kaku, tchi, yu.
C, D, F, G, A.
and this the minor scale :
Kiu, hensho, kaku, tchi, henyu.
C, Dflat, F, G, Aflat.
This alone would suffice to give to
the melodic phrase a weird, strange
colour. But there is something
else, I cannot say what, which
renders their musical language
unintelligible to our ears. They
have in all their art a certain liking
for the vague, the undetermined,
the ambiguous. In music they
attain it by finishing generally on
the dominant instead of the tonic as
32
OF JAPANESE DRAMA.
we do. A child striking only the
black keys of a piano, and that in
a highly unmusical fashion, would
give us something resembling
Japanese music. It is for our
ears an altogether discordant and
unpleasant thing. This music, with
its slow movements, is at the same
time primitive and refined, it never
tries to please the ear, but strives
to rouse emotions and to express
powerfully the dramatic sentiment.
The koto is an instrument con-
sisting of an oblong box over which
thirteen (in former times six) silk
strings are stretched. It is played
with ivory finger tips and forms the
fundamental part of the Japanese
orchestra. The kotos are, with the
fouyes (flutes), the only instru-
ments of Japanese origin. All the
others have been imported from
China. There is the shamicenn, a
sort of three- stringed guitar with
33
THE ELEMENTS
a long neck, a very popular instru-
ment, the strings of which are
struck by an ivory or bamboo quill ;
the biwa, a guitar with four strings ;
the djin-daiko, a drum, used in battle
music ; bells and big drums. Alto-
gether there exist two kinds of
flageolet, a vertical harp and a hori-
zontal one, two kinds of guitar, a
cymbal, a species of harmonica, an
oboe, a species of pandean pipe,
several kinds of flute, and five
kinds of drum. A Japanese band
is sometimes composed of a great
number of musicians. As early as
in the year 453 A.IX there was at the
burial of the Emperor Ingy5 an
orchestra of 80 musicians playing
a dirge.
The second element of the
Japanese theatre is dance. In old
times dance seems to have been a
religious ceremony, as we may still
find it among some savage tribes.
34
OF JAPANESE DRAMA.
We know that once a year virgins
danced before the shrine of Tensho
Daijin (the Sun-goddess) in order
to lure her from her sacred place.
Even this first and oldest dance
contains a dramatic idea, an embryo
of a dramatic action ; while the
hayatomai (warrior dance) was
somewhat in the style of a diver-
tissement. At the same time there
appeared also dances symbolising,
as in all countries, the relations of
the sexes.
Singing, dancing, and composing
went on hand in hand. Every new
achievement in the one art added
something to the other two
especially as imperial progresses,
public feasts, religious ceremonies,
and private entertainments were all
occasions for playing instruments
and dancing. Some of these old
dances are still executed in our
time. I have seen a dance called
35
THE ELEMENTS
tamabatu performed by tiny little
girls, six to eight years old, which
forms one of the most charming
sights one can imagine. They
wore rich satin robes with long
sleeves, and broad belts embroidered
with gold and claret colour designs.
They had high coiffures with silver
pins and tortoiseshell ornaments,
and purple socks. While dancing
they played small drums with
gilt frame and a silken cord, and
the drumsticks were lacquered.
Dancing was not only confined
to women and girls, there were
also men, and even old men, who
used to perform dances. One, for
instance, was usually executed by
old merchants. The principal
occasion for all such kinds of
enjoyment were the matsuri, annual
festivities held in honour of the
birthday of some god, each town
having its own tutelary deity.
36
OF JAPANESE DRAMA.
These public entertainments seem
to have begun as far back as
650 B.C. One dance, the kagura, a
kind of hieratic pantomime, accom-
panied by a slow weird music,
deserves special mention, because
it is one step nearer to the drama,
and because stages were first built
for its performance.
Not all these dances were of a
noble character ; some, called rika,
were accompanied by rather vulgar
street- songs ; others, the zokuyo by
popular ballads. Of these popular
amusements the most favourite was
the sarugaku or monkey mime, the
name of which sufficiently describes
its nature. Its rival was the
dengaku or bucolic mime, for the
performance of which masks were
worn, and which was at one time
greatly encouraged by the legis-
lators. The dengaku then assumed
a splendour, a pomp, a magnificence
37
THE ELEMENTS
OF JAPANESE DRAMA.
of costume not previously known
nor imagined. Nevertheless, the
sarugaku superseded the dengaku,
and by degrees became the no.
Curiously, and although having its
origin in the popular monkey
mime, the no is the aristocratic
form of the oldest drama.
III.
EARLY TRAGEDY AND
COMEDY.
HAVE said that the dances
were always accompanied
by song. At first these
songs were purely lyric or descrip-
tive. But gradually they became
recitatives having generally a sacred
or legendary text. On one side of
the platform sat a singer, who
accompanied himself on the shami-
cenn and who narrated some well-
known marvellous or romantic story
from the early times. Soon, when
such a recitative contained a speech
39
EARLY TRAGEDY
in direct narrative, it became the
custom for one of the dancers to
deliver it. And dialogue being the
the next step, the drama was
created. Such drama was called no.
Its subjects were always noble and
avoided the " vulgar acts of life."
Therefore actors must not make
love in public, nor eat or drink,
nor sleep, nor die. However, only
natural death was considered a
" vulgar act," but not a murder, an
execution, or, above all, a harakiri.
One of the favourite themes of
the no was what I should like to
call the Japanese Philemon and
Baucis. The recitative singer had
a fine part, describing the beauties
of the landscape where the old
couple lived and telling of their
feelings. The old people also had
nice things to say : " Do you
remember this ? " or : " At such
time we did that ! " There was
40
AND COMEDY.
also generally a part for a benevo-
lent spirit ; while the Chorus
appeared then as herons with hand-
some feathers, or as silvery salmons,
or preferably as flowers. This latter
costume was at all times much
patronised, and in the seventh cen-
tury flower festivals were much in
fashion. At these utagaki, as they
were called, one could see girls
representing peach-blossom, plum-
blossom, apple-blossom, iris, lotus,
dancing through the streets, while
other maidens dressed simply in
blue silk robes with red girdles sang
graceful stanzas to the sound of the
shamicenn.
The monologue was banned from
the no except in the first scene of the
play. After the reciter had given
in an introductory stanza a short
description of where the action
was to take place (for there was
mostly no scenery), the principal
41
EARLY TRAGEDY
character used to enter with the
words : " My name is so and so,
my father has this occupation, my
brother that, and such are the
circumstances which obliged me to
come here." The exposition being
thus terminated, the action went on,
frequently interrupted by remarks
of the reciter, as for instance :
" Look, look at him . . . Scorn
fills his noble heart . . . Now
he touches the handle of his sword
. . . He will draw it, he will kill
his enemy . . . But no ! He
masters his wrath and he goes out,
banging the door." In one word :
the reciter explains things which
we are used, in occidental theatres,
to see performed except in opera,
where sometimes our chorus
assumes a part resembling that of
the Japanese reciter. But one will
already have noticed that there is
a certain similarity between our
42
AND COMEDY.
opera and Japanese drama with
that one difference, however, that
the Japanese actor is an admirable
performer, while our operatic
singer . . . but it is not on the
occidental theatre that I write.
The old form of the no still
survives, and in our own day they
are performed at the matsuri. But
of course tradition which has
preserved the old plays has also
somewhat altered them. Duty in
all these dramas plays a great part,
and the stoicism of the samurai
(military men) has often been
chosen as a tragic subject.
Yoshimaza, the most extravagant
man ever born in Japan, celebrated
for his hobbies (the tea cult, the
incense cult, the landscape-garden
cult, the art cult), was also a most
remarkable patron of the drama,
and a dramatic author, SCAMI, was
his protege. But one of the best
43
EARLY TRAGEDY
of these dramatic poets was
KWANZE NOBUMITSU, who wrote
the celebrated Ataka-no (about
1485), of which, I am told, there
exists an English translation.
Of course, all drama could not
be serious. And what the comedy
is to our occidental theatre, the
kyogen is to Japanese drama. It is
feasible to adapt Japanese tragedy
to our European taste, but any such
hope is impossible if one considers
a kyogen. Either their impropriety
would shock European delicacy, or
we should find these comedies
utterly childish. I cannot give an
example of the former kind, but I
may tell the story of two of the
childish ones.
1. Three men undertake a
pilgrimage, promising not to
quarrel during the journey. After
a few hours, feeling very tired,
they take a rest. And while the
_ 44
AND COMEDY.
one is asleep, the two others shave
his head. Of course, when he
wakes again, he quarrels. So he
has to return home. But he will
revenge himself. He goes to the
other pilgrims' wives, and tells
them that their husbands have met
with an accident and are dead.
Thereupon the two women, as a
sign of mourning, shave their
heads. When the two men come
home from their pilgrimage the
third one awaits them and tells
them the same story : The wives
have met with a fatal accident ;
and he shows them their hair to
prove it. And the two men in their
turn shave their heads as a sign of
mourning. Now the rascal who has
made all this shaving mischief
discloses his fraud and produces
his own wife, the only one of the
lot who has any hair on her head.
But when he wants to prove it and
45
EARLY TRAGEDY
touches her beautiful coiffure, it
remains in his hand : she is bald.
. . . Curtain.
2. The other kyogen which I
may tell is the story of a samurai
(military man), who is endowed
with a pretty and very coquettish
wife. They have a manservant,
who falls in love with the lady.
But she is cruel, for there is another
wooer. One day the samurai
receives an order to go to war. A
great parting scene ensues between
husband and wife. In reality she
is glad, because she foresees a few
happy days with her lover, but for
her husband she pretends great
sorrow. As the tears will not
come naturally, she dips her fingers
from time to time into a basin of
water and places a few drops on
her cheeks. This the manservant
espies. Approaching the lady, he
whispers into her ear : " Now, be
46
AND COMEDY.
sensible, or I will teach you a
lesson ! " She only sneers at him.
So while she turns her back he
pours some ink into the basin.
And when she next marks her tears
they are black. Tableau. Curtain.
IV.
DEVELOPMENT OF THE
DRAMA.
gROM the no there branched
off in the seventeenth cen-
tury a more lyrical form
of drama, called the djitiruri. But
this was soon superseded by a new
system, the kabuki, or psycho-
logical drama, the evolution of
which continues up to our time.
It is this form, performed originally
in the shibai (lawns) which interests
us most.
In 1575 a celebrated and
beautiful dancer called O-KouMi
visited Kyoto. Although she was
49
DEVELOPMENT
not leading precisely a virtuous life
her fame was so great that she was
admitted to the Imperial palace.
Virtue, by the way, has never
played a very important part in
Japan with women who had other
accomplishments to be proud of.
The beautiful Aki, who became the
mistress of the Emperor Ichigo,
had hair that exceeded her stature
by ten feet. Tamabushi, the
mistress of the Emperor Uda, was
a clever dancer, and the six
celebrated demi-mondaines Sei,
Murasaki, Daino-Sanussi, Koshi-
kibu, Izumi, and Udaisho were
all brilliant writers. As for
O-KouMi, she was exquisitely
refined in all her ways, her manners
were restful yet winsome, her con-
versation was a piquant mixture of
feminine inconsequence and spark-
ling repartee. Already as an
odori-ko (dancing child) she had
50
OF THE DRAMA.
known how to fascinate everybody
by the gentle rhythmical grace of
her movements and her demure
looks. When she arrived at Kyoto,
the whole town soon talked of the
inexhaustible list of her accom-
plishments, of her art, and of her
costumes which were chef d'ceuvres
of decorative skill. No wonder
that many men fell in love with
her. Amongst them was NAGOYA
SANZAEMON, the superintendent of
the court festivities. It seems
that it was she who had the
idea of opening a popular theatre,
of which SANZAEMON was to be
the manager and she the star.
The performances took place on
some grassy land, and to this day
the name of shibai is given to the
Japanese theatre, although as early
as 1624 SARUWAKA KANZABURO had
built the first regular theatre in
Yeddo. The plays produced were
51
DEVELOPMENT
called performances (ki) of song
(kd) and dance (bu), and thus the
denomination kabuki was formed.
The success was prodigious.
Unfortunately, very soon numerous
ft lies de joie took to the profession.
By and by actors came to be con-
sidered as outcasts, and it became
so difficult for them to secure
permission to play in the public
gardens and squares that they had
to be satisfied with the beds of the
rivers, when in summer they were
dried up ; whence the name kawar-
a-mono, river-bed folk, which for
a long time designated actors.
Finally, in 1643, a law was made
by which it was forbidden to
women to take part in theatrical
performances. It was therefore
very fortunate that Japanese
costume made it possible for men
to play women's parts without
spoiling the performances. Now-
52
OF THE DRAMA.
adays this edict is no longer
enforced, but the custom still
prevails. It is unusual to see an
actress in Japan, although I must
add that there exists in Tokyo 11
theatre where all parts are played
by women. The interdict of 1643
proved, however, to be an oppor-
tunity for the actor and skilled
musician GENZAEMON, who made
a great reputation by playing
female parts.
The law of 1643 was not the
only instance of trouble arising
between the legislators and the
theatre. At one time it became
exceedingly fashionable to deliver
in private circles the recitatives
called naga-uta, which are con-
sidered as one of the chief
ornaments of Japanese drama.
Young girls, especially merchants'
daughters, began to sing them to
friends in special reunions which,
53
DEVELOPMENT
by and by, gave interesting matter
to the chronique scandaleuse. So
in 1805 these "at homes," and
particularly the singing of the
recitatives, were forbidden to the
young ladies who, by acting thus,
had " reduced themselves to the
level of rogues and vagabonds."
Another time, when the Toku-
gawa legislators were greatly
concerned about the immorality
of the theatre, they promulgated
a law that no theatre was to be
more than two storeys high.
There had been built first at Osaka
and Kyoto, and then at Yeddo,
theatres three storeys high, with
rooms in the top storey for
debauches of various kinds, and
with secret passages leading from
there to the manager's office. It
was said that ladies, experiencing
during the performances a sudden
fancy for one or the other actor,
_ 54
"
OF THE DRAMA.
used, at the end of the play, to go
to the manager and to make terms
with him for the cession of the
contemplated actor for an hour or
so, the manager and his employee
sharing the profits thus realised.
This scandalous state of things was
abolished and henceforth theatres
had but two storeys, and the yose,
plain, comfortless music halls, only
one.
V.
THE CLASSICAL PERIOD.-
TAKEDA IZUMO AND HIS
" PINE-TREE."
HE Japanese consider as
their greatest playwright
TsiKAMATSU MONZAEMON
(1653-1734) who wrote not less
than 74 historic dramas and 37
(frames de mceurs. He has been
called the Japanese Sophocles and
the Japanese Shakespeare. There
is always something vexatious in
comparisons of this kind, although
such title might perhaps not be
intended as anything more than a
synonym for poetic pre-eminence.
But I have already given the
reasons why there never was a
really great popular dramatic
57
THE CLASSICAL PERIOD.
author in Japan. Indeed, there is
nothing to be found in TSIKAMATSU
MONZAEMON like the ever -fresh
blossoms from the inexhaustible
garden of a Sophocles or a
Shakespeare. However, one may
say that the skilful construction of
TSIKAMATSU'S plays recalls that of
Sophocles, and that the secret of
this skill depends largely on the
profound way in which he conceives
the central situation in each of his
fables. Again, to have understood
how nearly burlesque and tragedy
are related, and to have interwoven
his dramas with clowneries, might
be called Shakespearean. But the
absolute finish, the - superlative
degree of harmony which we find
in Sophocles and Shakespeare will
be sought for in vain in the great
Japanese. And this judgment
'*
holds also good for his numerous
successors. They are all exceed-
58
THE CLASSICAL PERIOD.
ingly clever, they know how to
unfold their plots by subtle grada-
tions, and how to carry the hearer
onward, steadily and swiftly, and
how to give a feeling of impending
catastrophe, but their work is never
so completely alive as that of
Sophocles or Shakespeare, never
such an organic whole. Amongst
these contemporaries and succes-
sors of TSIKAMATSU we may name
TAKEMOTO TSIKONGO who wrote
90 plays, and NAMIKI SOSUKE (who
died in 1745) author of the cele-
brated drama " Itchinotani futaba
gunki " (Reminiscences of the first
campaign of two young men at the
assault of Itchinotani). This bril-
Ijiant piece of work was completed
iy his five disciples ASSADA ITCHIO,
AMIOKA KEIJI, NAMIKI CIOZA,
MBA SANSO, and TAJOTUKE
ENROKHU ; it was published in
1752, seven years after the
59
THE CLASSICAL PERIOD.
master's death. I must also name
TSIKAMATSU HAIGKI, the author of
the drama " Uta-dai-mon " (1780)
and TAKEDA IZUMO, this last author
being probably the one whose art
appeals most to occidental feeling.
TAKEDA IZUMO was born in 1688.
In 1713, when he was 25, he
opened, together with his friend
TSIKAMATSU MONZAEMON, a marion-
ette theatre which became famous
very quickly for the quality of the
plays performed there and for the
magnificence of the costumes,
which were imitated in all theatres.
I have already mentioned at the
beginning of this chapter the high
esteem in which the Japanese hold
TSIKAMATSU, That he was a very
talented and able man is further
proved by his renowned historical
novel " A vassal's loyalty," which
is not only famous in Japan, but
has also been translated into
60
THE CLASSICAL PERIOD.
European languages. But it seems
to me that the dramatic genius of
the partnership was TAKEDA IZUMO.
One of their most illustrious
marionette plays was " Kokusen-ya,
the Pirate king " ; and the success
of this was perhaps surpassed by
the play " The vendetta of the
47 ronin" which was first per-
formed in 1748, fourteen years
after TSIKAMATSU'S death.*
But in the meantime TAKEDA
IZUMO had also written plays for
the ordinary theatre, and of these
* TSIKAMATSU MONZAEMON had produced
in 1706 a tragedy called "Goban Taiheiki,"
based on the story of the 47 ronin. Shortly
before his death he proposed to TAKEDA
IZUMO to write a play on the same subject
for the marionette theatre, and they sketched
it together. On this plan it was written by
TAKEDA IZUMO, together with MIYOSHI
SHORAKU and NAMIKI SENRYU. It is known
under the title " Chushingura, " or " The
loyal retainers of Akao." There exists an
incomplete English translation in prose by
Jukishi Inonye.
61
TAKEDA IZUMO
the historical tragedy " Sugawara
den j on tenarai kagami " (a rather
fantastical title that means " Mirror
of calligraphy after the chancellor
Sugawara's tradition ") is not only
the most celebrated, but probably
the most extolled of all Japanese
dramas. It was written by TAKEDA
IZUMO together with his three
friends MIYOSHI SHORAKU (1693-
1773 ?), NAMIKI SENRYU (1693-
1749), and KOIZUMO, and first
performed in 1746, ten years before
TAKEDA IZUMO'S death.
Japanese plays have generally
from twelve to twenty acts, and
their performance takes a whole
day, from the hour of the hare to
the hour of the monkey, viz. :
from 6 o'clock in the morning to
6 o'clock in the evening. Such is
also the length of the "Sugawara"
tragedy. But it is not always
performed in full. Generally one
62
AND HIS "PINE-TREE."
single act of this play is given.
This act, which was written by
TAKEDA IZUMO alone, the most
luminous part of the whole, is
called " Matsu" " The pine-tree."*
One thing is certain namely,
that the "Pine-tree" well presented
never fails to make a deep impres-
sion, even on Europeans who by
chance are present at a per-
formance. True, the act of self
sacrifice is so exaggerated that it
may offend our more delicate
feelings ; but the action is so
tragic, the characters are so heroic,
that we cannot but admire.
The author seems to have drawn
from two sources. In the year
459 A.D. the Emperor Seinei
ascended the throne. He perpe-
trated a wholesale murder of his
own brothers, their children, and
* Also known under the title " Terakoya"
" The Village School."
TAKEDA IZUMO
other members of the Imperial
family. The whole Imperial line
would have become extinct had not
a child been secreted and reduced
to the position of a serf in order
to escape the quest of the official
assassins.
This seems to have been the
original story which inspired the
poet. But, firstly, he could not
possibly put an Emperor himself
on the stage. For in these days
the divinity that hedged a Mikado
was such that no common eye ever
beheld him, especially not on the
stage of a theatre. And, secondly,
the Emperors were nearly mythical
beings who mostly had no authority
at all. The chancellors were the
real regents, and it was to the
chancellors that vassals were loyal
or faithless. The author had
therefore to look for a chancellor
to whom the anecdote of the saved
_ 64
AND HIS "PINE-TREE."
child could apply. And his choice
fell on the story of the chancellor
Sugawara. Sugawara - no - Michi-
zane belonged to an ancient family
of professional litterateurs. He
had a high reputation as a calli-
graphist and scholar, and lived in a
time when it was possible to
become a prime minister by writing
nicely a stanza on a theme given by
the Mikado ; and this is exactly
how Sugawara succeeded. He
was, however, not fitted to cope
with the immense difficulties of
statesmanship. Besides, he had to
struggle against a complicated
situation. On the one hand there
was the Emperor Uda who,
although he had abdicated, still
tried to take a prominent part in
the administration ; on the other
hand, Sugawara had to suffer from
the jealousy of the Fujiwara repre-
sentative Takihira, a highly -gifted
65
TAKEDA IZUMO
but impetuous and arrogant young
nobleman. Sugawara-no-Michizane,
accused of conspiring to obtain the
throne for his grandson (an
Imperial prince having married his
daughter), was banished to Dazaifu.
His family and friends were all
killed or reduced to serfdom, and
he died in the following year (903).
After his death all sort of mishaps
befell his adversaries, and the super-
stition considered this ill-luck as a
manifestation of his revengeful
spirit. Finally, he was placed among
the gods, and he became Tenjin, the
god of calligraphy.
In the play, Sugawara-no-Michi-
zane had among his servants a
farmer named Shiratayu, whom
his master treated with great
benevolence. Sugawara-no-Michi-
zane possessed three trees of which
he was particularly fond, a plum-
tree (ume), a cherry-tree (sakura)
66
AND HIS "PINE-TREE."
and a pine-tree (matsu). Of these
trees the farmer Shiratayu had to
take care.
One day Shiratayu became father
of triplets, and the chancellor con-
sented to be their godfather. He
named them after his favourite
trees : Umeo, Sakuramaru, and
Matsuo.
When the three boys were grown
up the first two took service with
their godfather, who, after some
time, made them samurai (military
men) while the third one, Matsuo,
was placed with the chancellor's
mighty adversary, the Fujiwara
Tokihira, who in the play is also
called Shihei.
Now follows the political struggle
between Saguwara - no - Michizane
and Tokihira, leading to the whole-
sale murder of the chancellor's
followers and his own banishment.
But Ganzo, a former vassal and
67
TAKEDA IZUMO
samurai in his service, decides that
he will save Shusai, his master's
youngest son. He retires with him
to Seryo, a small village, passing
off the boy as his own son. Having
learned from the chancellor the
art of calligraphy, Ganzo opens a
school in the village, where the
action continues.
Of Sugawara - no - Michizane's
three godsons Umeo followed him
into banishment, Sakumaru was
killed in defending his master's
cause, while Matsuo remained in
his adversary's service. The fallen
chancellor suffered greatly from
Matsuo's behaviour and expressed
his sorrow in the celebrated verses :
" The plum - tree follows me
through the air.
Withered and dried is the
cherry -tree.
Should then the pine-tree so
lofty and fair
Alone be heartless and
faithless to me? "
68
AND HIS "PINE-TREE."
the hint in these verses being clear
enough. But the " pine-tree " was
not " faithless," and the subsequent
scenes show how Matsuo remained
loyal.
The choice of the theme is
characteristic, for against a back-
ground of truly Japanese treachery
and cruelty we see an act of
uncompromising fidelity to the
cause of the liege-lord no less truly
Japanese, a fidelity that grudges no
sacrifice, however immense, how-
ever bitter it may be.
VI.
THEATRICAL CUSTOMS.
N the second part of this
little volume the reader will
find an adaptation of the
" Pine-tree " a free adaptation,
let it be well understood, not a
translation. Some of the scenic
indications will not be found at all
in the original, others only as
recitatives called ji or chobo, while
I have omitted some other recita-
tives which I thought useless.
These recitatives, which give to the
Japanese plays a character partly
epic, partly dramatic, are so
unusual for Europeans that their
effect would have been absolutely
disturbing. As the " Pine-tree " is
71
THEATRICAL
presented here I think it might be
performed before an occidental
public. In view of such an even-
tuality, I have written the names as
phonetically as possible (for
instance : Tokeeheera, Shoozigh), in
order to avoid a different pronun-
ciation by each of the actors, such
as we sometimes hear on our own
stage in other foreign plays.
I am sure that, should some
manager try and present the
" Pine-tree," he will not fail in
greatly impressing the public. In
Japan it is always successful, but
few things performed on a stage
can be compared to what the
"Pine-tree" was with ICHIKAWA
DANJURO, Japan's greatest actor, as
Matsuo, and with ONOJE KIKUROGO,
who was second only to DANJURO,
as Ganz5. Like all Japanese actors,
they were not so remarkable for
their elocution as for their attitudes
72
CUSTOMS.
and movements. To give an
impressive picture of real life is the
aim of the Japanese actor. The
great art consists to talk not so
much with the tongue as with the
body, and to show by the expres-
sion of the face not only simple
passion, but also the subtle shades
of sentiment. It is obvious that
such a way of acting leads easily to
melodramatic exaggerations ; it is
also very tiring for the performers,
and this may be considered as one
more reason why women generally
do not act.
With the Japanese the art of
making up is not at all to be com-
pared to the methods of our Western
actors. Here, again, one finds much
exaggeration, and a story is told of
the actor YAMANAKA HEIKURO, who
had made himself a head of a devil
so hideous, that when his wife saw
him she died of fright on the spot.
73
THEATRICAL
The characters which one finds
in nearly all Japanese dramas are
the Aragotoshi (a hard man), the
Djitsugotoshi (a faithful, loyal
man), the Wagotoshi (a young
and pleasant man), and the
Djitsuakushi (a bad cruel man).
The profession of an actor is
even nowadays not considered as
a high one, although one would
no longer think of treating them
as "rogues and vagabonds." On
the average, they are not well paid.
Still there are exceptions. When
a play is staged it runs at least for
23 consecutive days. For such
a term a first-class man like ICHI-
KAWA DANJURO would earn about
2,500 yen (250), and his annual
income may be estimated at 15,000
yen (1,500). But it must not be
forgotten that out of this sum he
must provide his own costumes,
and costumes are no trifle in Japan,
74
CUSTOMS.
as they must not only be made to
suit the part, but also the character
of the part.
For the last ten years or so,
Japan has been under the influence
of a fashion that had given a
particular stamp to the country
already two hundred years ago. In
the windows of the silk merchants
one can see many a kimono and obi
(sash) made of a material of such
an extraordinary pattern and of
such bold colours that they attract
the eyes of the passer-by, irrespec-
tive of age or sex. Purple and red,
apricot and peach, turquoise blue
and malachite green are united
there into a strange and wonderful
bouquet, which has the particu-
larity of never looking vulgar,
never being as shrill as the so-called
" real Japanese " costumes one sees
in our European shops, and which
the poorest girl in Tokyo would
75
THEATRICAL
not dare to wear. For Japanese
coloration remains artistic even
when it comes near the limits of
the permissible.
I think the secret consists in
choosing one fundamental tone
which alone might be very shrill,
and to subdue it by some other
softer colour ; the obi, the wide
sash, is there to obtain this result.
There are obis so beautiful that our
Western ladies cannot imagine
their value. And it happens that
a Japanese beauty spends for one
single obi more than a smart
Parisienne for her whole toilette
during a year.
One of the favourite patterns for
the obi is a simple chessboard design
made in black and gold, or blue and
gold, or red and gold, and so on.
But if you chance to look closely at
it you will find, on costly obis,
a different design in each of the
76
CUSTOMS.
squares birds or flowers, executed
with the most wonderful delicacy.
Other kimonos and obis have very
big designs, we see enormous
wheels, large pine-branches, fishes
in a cascade, bushes and deer, or
even a complete miniature garden,
embroidered with incomparable art.
Now what makes these dresses
so exceedingly costly, is the fact
that there are generally not two
alike, and that many of them have
been sketched by great painters.
In the Imperial museum at Tokyo
some priceless garments, called
kosode, painted by KOEIN himself,
are preserved.
Needless to say that on the stage
only imitations of these precious
garments are worn, but even such
imitations are sometimes very
expensive. And there are not only
the dresses, but the hairpins and
combs, the little purses, the ribbons
77
THEATRICAL
of the geta (shoes with heels), the
tabi (socks with a separate great
toe). These tabi are very important
in Japanese costume, and are made
of heavy silk. They have also
rather often the chessboard design
with small ornaments, and are
usually either red and yellow, or
blue and yellow.
Now, if the costumes are always
beautiful and sometimes of an
extravagant richness, the same
cannot be said of the scenery,
which is always meagre and
exiguous. The design is rough,
primitive, and without any know-
ledge of the laws of perspective.
Indeed, one may well not call it
a scenery at all, the design being,
with very few exceptions, purely
ornamental. On the other hand,
the front of the theatre is generally
painted with much skill and fancy.
There are many little things
78
CUSTOMS.
which surprise the European visitor.
To begin with, the surroundings
of the theatre. I have already
mentioned the length of the per-
formances. And although there
exists now a theatre where only
half -day performances (shintomi-za)
are given, food and refreshments
must be provided for the audience.
Therefore, one generally finds
around a theatre a little city of
tea-houses and restaurants. The
curtain does not rise, as in Europe,
but is pulled sideways, and one can
easily see the attendants who are
entrusted with this work. The
orchestra (hayashi) is hidden
behind the scenery, while in a sort
of proscenium box the reciter sits,
together with a shamicenn player,
both being concealed behind a
curtain of thin bamboo. There is
no applause by clapping hands as
in our theatres, but the public
79 F
THEATRICAL
stimulates the actors by exclama-
tions, in a way that may be com-
pared to the encouraging and
cheering of the dancers in Spain.
From the " Green Room " a bridge
leads to the platform. This bridge
is called " Flowerpath." The
" Green Room " is closed by a
drapery, which the actors of small
parts must lift for themselves.
When the performers have some
importance and reputation they
have an attendant for the purpose
of lifting this drapery. But the
first actors, as well of nogu (drama)
as of kyogen (comedy), have the
title taiya, which confers the right
to two assistants to hold up the
curtain of the " Green Room " for
their entries and exits.
Besides of the "Flowerpath"
there is also an underground way
permitting the actors to enter
through the auditorium, which for
80
CUSTOMS.
this purpose is joined with the plat-
form by a bridge. I may here
remark that Max Reinhardt, when
performing " La belle Helene " in
Munich and Berlin, " borrowed "
this idea from the Japanese, and
made the dramatis personce enter
through the auditorium, and, exactly
as in Japan, they began talking
while still walking through the
rows of the public. Needless to
say, that the German Press found
Reinhardt's " originality " simply
kolossal.
000
In concluding this very incom-
plete sketch, I wish to say that if
the Japanese theatre has not shared
the general progress, and has
remained somewhat stationary for
more than two hundred years, it
is none the less very interesting.
Although it may not in its long
history have remained absolutely
81
THEATRICAL CUSTOMS.
free from foreign, mainly Chinese,
influences, it is a national art which
has always kept the marks of its
origin, and is in no way unworthy
of the splendid nation which every
day we learn to appreciate more
highly.
THE PINE-TREE
(MATSU)
A DRAMA
BY
|
TAKEDA IZUMO
THE PINE-TREE.
MATSUO, a vassal of the Fujiwara chancellor
Tokeeheera (Shihei).
MISTRESS CHEEYO, his wife.
KOTARO, their son (eight years).
KWAN SHOOZIGH, son of the former chancellor
Saguwara-no-Michizane (eight years).
KWAN SHOOZIGH'S MOTHER, the former chancellor's
wife.
GANZO, a vassal and pupil of the former chan-
cellor, now master of a village school.
MISTRESS TONARMEE, his wife.
GEMBAH, Tokeeheera's chamberlain.
SANZOOKEE, Matsuo's servant-man.
SILLY, a boy of 15,
CHOMA, a boy of 8,
EWAMA, a boy of 10, \ GANZO'S pupils.
TOKUZAN, a boy of 8, I
THREE OTHER BOYS, ^
SOME SOLDIERS, under Gembah's command.
SOME PEASANTS.
The action takes place in the year 902, in the little village Sery5,
in the class room of Ganzo's house and in the courtyard,
which one can see when the principal door is opened.
85
THE PINE-TREE.
(SHOOZIGH, SILLY, and other pupils are all sitting on the floor,
having each one a small desk on which is placed a
scribbling book and, to the right, a box with Indian ink,
to the left, a little box with books. With their writing
brushes they are busy doing some exercises in Japanese
letters. They often interrupt their work and are rather
noisy. Most of them have their fingers stained with ink,
some even their faces.)
SILLY.
I think it is too stupid ! The master isn't at
home, and we are sitting here and studying !
(Eaising a sheet of paper) Look ! Look ! I have
painted a bonze with a bald head !
(They all laugh, most of them get up, there is great
noise.)
SHOOZIGH
(without interrupting his work).
Silly, you ought to do something better than
to paint such wicked images. You're the biggest
here, and unable to write the simplest letters.
Fie ! What a shame !
SILLY.
Oh, you are a wise one. Behold the wise one,
the cheeky wise one !
86
FIRST BOY
(hitting Silly with his ruler).
You are not to insult him, Silly !
SILLY
(howling).
Oh ! oh ! he wants to kill me ! (Takes his ink
and pours it over the first boy's head.)
SECOND BOY.
Big fool ! The eldest of us, and starts crying
when one touches him !
THIRD BOY.
We'll give him a good thrashing, the boaster.
(They attack Silly with their rulers and a great, noisy battle
ensues.)
(Mistress Tonarmee comes from an adjoining room.)
MISTRESS TONARMEE.
Aye ! You naughty boys ! You are fighting
again ? Won't you keep quiet ? Sit down, all
of you ! Take your places, and work ! The
master will soon be back. If you work well,
he'll give you a half -holiday.
87
SOME OF THE BOYS.
Oh, that's fine ! That's splendid ! We'll
work ! We'll work ! (They all settle down and begin
again to work, reading and writing. They are heard
pronouncing the syllables they write down:) Ee-ro-ha-
nee-ho-ha-to . . .
(Enter MISTRESS CHEEYO, leading her boy KOTARO by
her hand. SANZOOKEE follows them carrying a small
desk, a box with books, and two parcels.)
SANZOOKEE
(from outside, opening the door a little).
Holloa ! May we come in ?
MISTRESS TONARMEE.
Please ! Please !
MISTRESS CHEEYO
(entering with Kotaro).
You are very kind. (Curtseys on both sides.) I
sent a messenger this morning to Mr. Ganzo, to
ask whether he could receive my little boy as a
pupil. Mr. Ganz5 having consented very
courteously, I thought I had best bring the child
at once. Here he is.
88
9*ine*15>ree.
MISTRESS TONARMEE.
Oh ! Is this your son ? He is welcome. A
pretty, gentle child.
MISTRESS CHEEYO.
You are very gracious. I hope he will not
prove a nuisance. We only came to stay in this
village a few days ago. We have taken lodgings
quite at the other end. I was much pleased to
hear that you have a boy of the same age. Is he
one of these ?
MISTRESS TONARMEE.
Certainly. It is this one. (To Shoozigh) Come
here and greet this lady . . . (SHOOZIGH comes nearer
and bows very low before Mistress Cheey5.) Yes, this IS
Mr. Ganzd's son and heir.
MISTRESS CHEEYO
(looking alternately at the faces of both boys as if to
compare them).
What a beautiful, lovely child, Mistress
Ganzo ! But I do not see your husband.
Perhaps he is absent ?
89
MISTRESS TONARMEE.
I regret to say he is. Early this morning
he was invited to call upon the mayor for
a conference and a festive repast. It is rather a
long way, and it may still be some time ere he
returns. But if you wish to see him, I will at
once send somebody to fetch him.
MISTRESS CHEEYO.
Oh, no, no ! Do not trouble yourself. I have
an errand in the next village, business of all
sorts ; I will come back afterwards, and will
then certainly find Mr. Ganzo . . . Holloa,
Sanzookee ! Give me these things. (SAKZOOKBB
gives her the two parcels. The first one is wrapped up in
a white paper and adorned with a sign of remembrance.
MISTRESS CHEEYO takes it and places it politely before
Mistress Tonarmee). Will you be good enough to
accept this as a small token of remembrance
of this day ?
MISTRESS TONARMEE
(with a deep curtsey).
Oh ! This is really too good of you, really
too good . . .
90
MISTRESS CHEEYO.
Do not mention it. And the contents of this
box (she gives Mistress Tonarmee the second parcel) are
for your boys, your pupils.
MISTRESS TONARMEE.
My best thanks, my best thanks, you are really
too generous ! My husband will also be greatly
obliged.
MISTRESS CHEEYO.
And now I think I had better go. I entrust
my child to you. (To Kotaro) You will be good
and obedient, my dear. I only go to the next
village, I will soon be back.
KOTARO.
Oh, mother, don't leave me alone ! Take me
with you ! (And as she is leaving he pulls her sleeve.)
MISTRESS CHEEYO.
What a little coward you are ! Are you not
ashamed, Kotar5 ? (To Mistress Tonarmee.) You see
how spoilt he is. (Caressing him.) There's a good
boy, a nice boy. Remain here and be brave. I
will SOOn be back. (Exit with Sanzookee. But when
leaving the room, and afterwards when she is already outside,
she turns her head again and again, looking passionately and
91
tenderly upon Kotaro. Finally, after having closed the door
she returns once more.) Oh, excuse my troubling you
again. I must have forgotten my fan. (They look
for it.)
MISTRESS TONARMEE
(after a few moments).
But look, you have it in your hand, there is
your fan.
MISTRESS CHEEYO
(surprised).
Oh ! It is true ! How foolish I am ! (As she
now definitely leaves the room, she looks once more at her
son longingly, sadly.)
MISTRESS TONARMEE
(consoling Kotaro).
Don't be sad, my darling. Come to my son
and play with him. (She leads him to Shoozigh and
tries all sorts of means to brighten him.)
(Enters GANZO.)
(He is pale and worried. Stopping at the door he looks at the
pupils, examining their faces, without noticing Kotaro.)
GANZO
(angrily, aside).
Peasants' faces . . . Common peasants' heads
. . . No use . . . too vulgar, too low . . . (He
sits down, brooding.)
92
MISTRESS TONARMEE
(observes him. First she is astonished, but afterwards she
becomes anxious. She sits down facing her husband,
and after a rather long silence she begins :)
How pale you are, my lord, how much distressed !
And secret words you murmur to yourself !
Say, what has happened ? Say, why do you
glance
So full of anger and anxiety
At these poor boys ? Oh, do not look so wrathful.
Let me beseech you, Ganzo, my dear lord !
See here, this boy. Tis the new pupil. And
Methinks, he is a nice and handsome child.
(To Kotaro.)
Approach now, Kotaro, and greet your master.
KOTARO
(makes a deep obeisance and cowers down).
My lord, please take me. For I will with all
My heart be faithful, true, obedient.
GANZO
(looking at him thoughtlessly).
'T is well. Return you to your place.
(KATARO gets up again. GANZO by chance notices his face.
He seems astonished and throws several rapid glances at
the child. His aspect slowly becomes less dismal.)
93
"She
(Aside) I marvel !
This is ... (Aloud) Ha Kotaro ! . . . You are . . .
in truth . . .
Come here and look at me. (Aside) There is no
doubt . . .
(Aloud)
You are . . . You're a good boy, my Kotaro,
A pretty boy, a fair, well-mannered boy,
Of goodly stock.
(To Mistress Tonarmee) Do you not think SO ?
MISTRESS TONARMEE.
Yes,
And I am happy that he pleases you,
For when you saw him, all the gloomy clouds
At once fled from your face. Believe me : he
Will be a clever scholar. When his mother
Who brought him here . . .
GANZO
(interrupting her).
His mother ? What ?
His mother ?
Is she still here ?
MISTRESS TONARMEE.
She left in a great hurry,
Important business was expecting her
In the next village. But she will return . . .
She'll not be long.
94
"She 9*ine*15>ree.
GANZO
(constrained).
Oh ... Is that so ? ...
Not long ? . . .
Yes ... Yes ... What did I say ? ... My
mind is absent . . .
I am engaged upon important things.
'Tis holiday this afternoon. The boys
May play now in the back room, as they like.
But no mischief ! No noise ! I do not wish
To be disturbed, ye rascals ! Put your things
Away first . . . neatly . . . decently . . . Now
go.
Tis holiday.
(THE BOYS get up. There is a great noise. Having packed
their writing apparatus, they put their desks in a corner
of the room. Then they leave with cries of joy. GANZO
looks after them thoughtfully. MISTRESS TONABMEE,
when they have left, shuts the door and comes back to
her husband. She looks around as if to see whether
the> are unobserved and then sits down opposite him.)
MISTRESS TONARMEE.
Why are you worried ? Say,
What has occurred ? When you arrived so pale
and so
Depressed, at once some secret apprehension
Pervaded all my frame. And afterwards . . .
95
"She
You seemed to muster all our boys. It was
Forgive me it was strange and terrifying
(GANZO nods half absently.)
And then quite suddenly 'twas odd I saw
A flash that darted from your eyes. It was
As soon as you had noticed the new boy.
Ill luck, I am afraid, ill luck awaits us.
GANZO.
Ill luck ? Yea verily because ... In short
We are betrayed. Discovered is the secret
That here our young lord is concealed, that here
As our own son we rear him. Tokeeheera,
The chancellor, knows this full well and longs
To slay the last of Sugawara's offspring
Whose vengeance would be feared should he
grow up.
MISTRESS TONARMEE.
Oh, frightful news ! I feared it ! And, my lord,
How did you learn that ?
GANZO.
At the mayor's party.
It was a trap. A trap to catch me ; to
Prevent us from a timely flight. Gembah,
96
9ine*1S>ree.
The chancellor's chamberlain approached
me. More than
A hundred men followed his steps. u Ganzd! "
Cried he, " We know thy secret. Yes, we know it !
That boy, whom wrongly as a son thou claimest,
Surrender him to us. For 'tis young Shoozigh.
Oh wicked, evil, vicious man ! How darest thou
Still shield the enemies of Tokeeheera?
The order hear that we now bring: Within
Two hours thou wilt deliver us the head
Of young Shoozigh. If riot, we are to enter
Thy house, ourselves to fetch that urchin's head.
And as for thee : the chancellor's wrath will find
Thee soon." Such were his words. How had I
liked
At once to give an answer to this scoundrel,
An answer with the sword ! But they were many,
And shrewdness seemed a better thing than force.
Therefore, I swallowed my repugnance, seeming
To obey, but asked that they would grant me
time,
So that I might achieve the deed. Beside him
There stood Matsuo, he, the only one
At court, who knows Shoozigh. The chancellor,
So that the head might be identified,
Had summoned Matsuo. Oh shame, oh shame !
97
He, too, then, has forgotten our old lord,
Forgotten gifts, support, and aid ; and now
Betrays his offspring. What disgrace ! So ill
Is he,* so weak, his feeble limbs can scarce
Support him. But for crime and treachery
He still has strength. Now listen well. We are
Surrounded, and we cannot fly. I must,
Must find a head resembling young Shoozigh's.
For if I fail, he's lost. On my way home,
I meditated : What, if in his place
One of my pupils I should sacrifice?
But how could anybody be deceived
By such low features? Who could deem he saw
The visage of a noble, high-born child ?
Thus, full of pain and anguish came I home,
Despairing lest I should not save Shoozigh.
And suddenly I saw that unknown boy.
In truth, say, is he not like our young lord?
'Tis Heaven, wife, sent us that child ! The gods,
Who will deliver our young lord, have sent
This substitute, and sent him in the hour
Of need. Tis the will of the gods, beyond
All doubt ! The boy must die. His evil spirit
Has placed him in our hands. Yes, we will kill
him,
And to the messenger we will deliver
ISfie
His head. Then let us flee, flee rapidly
With our young lord. If we make haste, we can
In a few hours gain the frontier, and so reach
Kawachi, where we need not fear detection.
MISTRESS TONARMEE.
Hour of despair ! Alas ! Oh, is it true
That cruelly we must shed this guiltless
blood ?-
'Tis true. We must. For nothing is as holy
As duty to one's lord. And if we had
To sacrifice a world well, 'twould be done.
But will it be of use? Did you not say
Yourself : Matsuo is to testify
If truly 'tis the head. He knows the boy.
His eye will never be deceived. Tis all
In vain. He will find out our stratagem.
GANZO.
Well, if he does, 'twill be his doom ! I'll watch
His features, wife, my sword in hand. And if
It must be, if it must, I'll throw him down
With one bold stroke ! Then like a tiger, casting
Myself upon his men, I'll drive them forth.
Or ...
Or I will die with my young lord, in order
99
That on his journey to the other world
He may be followed by his faithful servant.
However, there is little danger that
Matsuo will frustrate my sound design.
The likeness of the boys is marvellous,
And what dissimilarity there is
In life will surely disappear in death.
But peril threatens from another side :
The mother ! If she should return, ill-timed,
Ask for her boy, raise an alarm, and hinder
The flight then if she comes then woe to her !
She, too ! ...
MISTRESS TONARMEE.
She, too ? . . . Oh, word of dread and horror !
With all sorts of discourses will I try
And put her off, will, when she comes . . .
GANZO.
No ! no !
Already her mistrust may be aroused.
For people talk and say that in the village
Peculiar things to-day will happen. Therefore,
She will insist on seeing her son. It must
Not be ! Too weighty are the stakes ! I pray,
Pray fervently she may not come. But if
100
She comes, she never, nevermore must leave us.
To do some devil's deed we are appointed ;
So let us devils be without a scruple.
She dies ! must die ! The safety of our lord
Demands it.
MISTRESS TONARMEE.
Well, let us be devils, if
It can't be otherwise. (Crying) Oh, wretched
child,
Ill-fated mother ! Why did she come to-day
Entrusting us with her beloved treasure ?
And woe to us who undertook to be
His father, mother and who'll butcher him.
Oh, day of grief and sorrow, mournful day !
(GEMBAH opens the door. MATSUO is seen sitting in a litter.
SOME PEASANTS push into the courtyard, pursuing both
knights with humble obeisances.)
SEVERAL PEASANTS.
Oh, mighty lords, have pity ! Our children
are also within. Oh, mercy, mercy !
101
FIRST PEASANT.
My little boy is only just beginning to write.
Oh, let him go free !
SECOND PEASANT.
Lord, my grandson ! If by mistake you
should cut off his head, you couldn't put it on
again. Oh, let him go free, Sir knight !
THIRD PEASANT.
For the love of heaven, be careful. My boy is
just the same age as the young lord. For the
love of heaven, let me go and fetch him.
MANY.
Let us go in, dear Sir knights!
GEMBAH
(brutally driving away the peasants who are crowding
about him).
Cursed, burdensome mob! They all buzz
together like blow-flies. To hell with you!
Nobody will harm your dirty, silly brats. Take
them away and hurry ! (He turns his back to them
and laughs ironically.) To mistake idiotic peasant
faces for the features of a samurai! . . . ha, ha,
ha, ha !
102
MATSUO
(comes out of his litter, slowly approaches the door, leaning
heavily on his long sword, using it as a support).
All the same, Gembah, be not too hasty in
giving them their liberty. I alone bear all the
responsibility, for I alone know the boy. How
easily one of these peasants could have been
brought into the plot and now pretend Shoozigh
to be his son! (To the peasants) Be calm, you.
Call your children by their names, I wish to see
them before giving them up to you.
ALL THE PEASANTS
(shout names at the same time).
MATSUO.
One after the other !
(He holds the handle of his sword with an iron grasp.
And while GANZO and MISTRESS TONARMEE listen with
anxiety from within to the names called out, the fathers
and hoary headed grandfathers wait, full of concern,
outside the door.)
FIRST PEASANT.
Choma, Choma!
103
&ine*1S>ree.
GANZO
(standing near the door that leads to the backroom repeats
the names called out, shouting them into the back room).
Choma, approach!
CHOMA
(enters).
Here am I.
MATSUO
(gazing at him).
This one has thoroughly smudged his face
with ink. But even if he were washed he would
never become clean. Let him go, it is not he.
(THE FIRST PEASANT takes Choma's hand and leads him away.)
SECOND PEASANT.
Is Ewama here ? Ewama !
EWAMA
(arrives).
Yes, grandfather, here am I.
MATSUO
(gazing at him).
A nice lad, with a round face like a fresh
persimmon ! Away w r ith him.
(THE SECOND PEASANT takes him up " pick-a-back," and goes
away with him.)
104
THIRD PEASANT.
My darling, my dickie-bird, my pretty one !
SILLY
(the fifteen-year old boor).
Here am I. (Seeing that Ewama is carried away on
his grandfather's back he cries :) Take me also pick-a-
back, daddy dear, pick-a-back ! Pick-a-back !
(He howls.)
THIRD PEASANT.
Don't cry, dickie-birdie, don't cry.
GEMBAH
(laughs sneeringly).
This boor with his horse-legs and his sparrow-
voice hardly needs your decision, Matsuo ! He
would be a nice prince ! Wouldn't he ? (Looking
after him.) The old fool takes really his lanky
idiot pick-a-back. Look at him slinking away
like a cat that has stolen a piece of dry salmon !
FOURTH PEASANT.
Tokuzan ! Tokuzan ! For the love of heaven,
Sir knight, don't mix him up with the young lord
Shoozigh. Isn't he a beautiful boy, Sir knight ?
(TOKUZAN is about to steal away, but MATSUO catches him.)
105
9ine*1S>ree.
MATSUO.
Stop, my boy, stop ! Is yours a guilty
conscience ? Let me look at you more carefully.
Your face has the shape of a melon, and your
complexion is quite white, oh ! (Looks again at him.)
But you are dirty, you, you filthy urchin. Run
away as fast as you can. (Kicks him.)
GEMBAH
(angrily).
Pooh, Ganzo, call up the last three of these
peasant brats together. From what I have seen
up to now, I would dare decide alone. It's turnips
that grow on a turnip field.
(GANZO as he has been told, calls the last three boys;
GEMBAH and MATSUO examine them rapidly and
let them go. The sliding door is closed. GEMBAH
and MATSUO sit down opposite Ganzo.)
GEMBAH.
Now then, Ganzo, do what you promised me.
Before my very eyes, so you have sworn,
You will behead the boy. Make haste, and then
Deliver me the head !
106
GANZO
(calmly and self-assured).
And do you think
That I can catch the chancellor's noble son
Unceremoniously by his young throat
And wring his neck, and cut then off his head,
As if he were a dog ? A little patience !
Give me some time, Sir, to achieve it. (He gets up
and is about to go into the back room).
MATSUO.
Stop,
Ganzo, one instant ! (He stares at him.)
'Tis in vain you try
To cheat us. If you think that in this short
Delay you may remove your little lord
Through some back door, your cunning comes
too late.
More than a hundred men surround your house,
And not a rat could possibly escape.
Nor think you that you can deceive me, if
By chance you offer me another head
Believing all dissimilarities
Might be by death effaced. But such a trick,
My friend, could not mislead me. Very soon
You would repent. . . .
107
GANZO
(scarcely able to restrain himself).
Keep for yourself your care,
Tis stupid and superfluous. The real
Authentic head shall soon lie here before you,
And ev'n your weak distorted eyes will not
Mistake it.
GEMBAH
(impatiently).
Spare yourself these words and go !
'Tis time for deeds now, not for empty talk.
(He gives Ganzo a wooden box into which to put the
head. GANZO exit through the centre door.)
(There is a pause. MISTRESS TONARMEE sits, listening
uneasily, while MATSUO glances around inquisitively.
After a while he counts the desks and book-boxes.)
MATSUO.
How strange, how singular ! These little devils
Which we let run were there not seven ? Now !
There is one desk too many, I count eight !
(To Mistress Tonarmee.)
Tell me, to whom belongs this desk ? (Shows
Kotaro's desk.)
108
MISTRESS TONARMEE
(frightened and confused.)
This desk . . .
To the new pupil . . .
MATSUO.
What?
MISTRESS TONARMEE
I'm tattling . . . No,
There's no new pupil, sir, no ! don't believe it.
It is Kwan Shoozigh's desk, Kwan Shoozigh's,
really,
Believe me . . .
MATSUO
(impatiently.)
Well, I do believe you. But,
Why does not he make haste. My illness . . .
I...
(Behind the scene a noise like the falling of a body is
heard; MISTRESS TONARMEE starts wildly, MATSUO
makes only a scarcely noticeable movement.
MISTRESS TONARMEE first moves as if to hurry into
the back room, but masters herself and remains
standing full of anxiety).
109
GANZO
(enters, holding in his hand the closed wooden box, and places
it quietly before Matsuo.)
What you commanded is fulfilled. Here is
Kwan Shoozigh's head. Now examine it well,
My noble lord Matsuo ! Be severe !
Make no mistake.
(He sits down somewhat to one side, watching Matsuo sharply,
and holding the handle of his sword.)
MATSUO
(to some of the soldiers which GEMBAH has meanwhile beckoned
into the room.)
Look out, you men ! Go there !
(pointing to Ganzo.)
And watch this couple.
(He draws the box as near as possible towards himself ;
keeping his eyes shut he pulls up the lid. Then,
slowly, as if he were dreaming, he opens his eyes.
He looks at the head for some time in deep silence,
then he touches it with a slightly trembling hand.
For the fraction of a second an expression of mental
pain, only suppressed with difficulty, passes over his
features, but disappears immediately. The others
are filled with anxious expectation.)
110
MATSUO
(after a pause, slowly, with stoical calm.)
Well, there is no doubt !
This head is Kwan Shoozigh's . . . There is no
doubt !
(He shuts the box, pressing upon the lid. GA.NZO
and MISTRESS TONARMEE sigh with relief, and
quickly glance at each other.)
GEMBAH
(gets up).
At last, at last ! You have behaved with courage,
Ganzo, and have deserved some compensation.
For having hidden Kwan Shoozigh instead of
Delivering him to us you should have died !
But as you made amends, as you performed
With your own hand the execution you
Are pardoned.
(To MATSUO.)
Come, Matsuo, come, make haste,
We now will hurry to the court, and bring
Immediately the happy news to Shihei.
He waits with violent impatience there
And burns to hear our embassy's success.
- ill H
MATSUO.
You're right, friend Gembah, bring him speedily
These long expected news. Bring the head also.
But I must be excused. I am unwell
Worse is my malady than it appears,
Indeed, much worse. Obtain for me permission
That I may be dispensed from further service.
GEMBAH.
That shall be as it pleases you. Go home,
And take care of yourself. As for your duty,
'Tis done. Farewell !
MATSUO.
My duty's done. Farewell !
(GEMBAH takes the box and exit with the soldiers, MATSUO
follows him, leaning wearily on his sword. He enters
his litter and is carried away.)
(For a while GANZO and MISTRESS TONARMZE remain
sitting, fixed in amazement, and look incredulously
in the direction which the others have taken. Then
GANZO goes to the door and bolts it. Both sit down
once more, facing each other, and heave a sigh of
relief. MISTRESS TONARMEE raises her clasped hands
to heaven, and bows down to the floor several times,
as if offering a prayer of ardent thanksgiving.)
112
GANZO.
The gods be thanked and thou, great Buddha,
too !
Indeed, our lord, by his exalted virtue
Has brought upon us heavenly protection.
This devil's open eye was closed with clouds,
Was struck with blindness. Yea ! Rejoice, my
wife,
And may our dear young lord live many days !
MISTRESS TONARMEE.
1 scarce believe it. Was it our lord's spirit
That sat upon Matsuo's eyes ? Or was
The child itself a gracious kindly spirit ?
To take a common flint for some rare jewel !
Oh, let us thank the gods with all our heart !
(At this moment someone outside knocks several times at
the door. Q-ANZO and MISTRESS TONARMEE get
frightened.)
MISTRESS CHEEYO
(outside).
Holloa, open the door ! 'Tis I, the mother of
the new pupil ! Let me come in !
113
MISTRESS TONARMEE
(whispering, afraid).
Good heavens, Ganzo, it is the mother! We
are lost ! What's to be done ? What shall we
say?
MISTRESS CHEEYO
(outside).
Open ! Open ! (Knocks louder.)
GANZO
(angrily, to Mistress Tonarmee).
Silence, foolish woman ! Do you not hear
me ? Keep quiet, we shall manage somehow or
other.
(He pushes Mistress Tonarmee aside, opens the door and lets
in Mistress CHEEYO.)
MISTRESS CHEEYO
(in visible alarm).
Ah ! Is it you, Master Takebe Ganzo ? Are
you the worthy master ? I brought you my boy
this morning. Where is he ? I hope he is not a
nuisance ?
iu
GANZO.
He is not ! He is there in the backroom,
playing with the other boys. Do you wish to see
him ? Will you take him home ?
MISTRESS CHEEYO.
Yes, let me see him, I will take him away.
GANZO
(getting up).
Then come. Will you please enter this room . .
(MISTRESS CHEEYO turns towards the backroom door ;
GANZO, behind her, draws his sword and strikes at her,
but at this instant she turns round and cleverly
evades the blow. She runs among the desks, takes
that of her son, and wards off with it another blow
from Ganzo.)
MISTRESS CHEEYO.
Stop, stop !
GANZO
(strikes once more).
To hell !
(The stroke splits the desk into pieces, and from it falls
a white shroud, papers with prayers written on them,
a burial flag, and other articles used at a burial).
115
"She
GANZO
(surprised).
The devil ! What is this ? (He drops his sword.)
What does this mean ?
MISTRESS CHEEYO
(on her knees, bursting into tears).
Oh, sir, I beseech you. Did my son die the
death of sacrifice ? Sacrificed to his young lord
Kwan Shoozigh ? Or not ? Oh, I beg of you,
tell me the truth !
GANZO
(dumbfounded).
How ? What ? The death of sacrifice ? Your
son sacrificed ? Did you then . . on purpose ? . .
You could purposely ?
MISTRESS CHEEYO.
Oh, my darling, my beloved child ! Sacrificed,
voluntarily sacrificed, so as to save his lord's life.
What use would then be this shroud, these
prayers, this flag with the inscription on it :
" Namu Amida Butsu " ?
116
GANZO.
Woman, you horrify me. I cannot understand !
Who are you ? Who is your husband ?
(Again there is a knock at the door. MATSUO opens it
from outside, enters, shuts the door behind him, and
sits down gravely).
MATSUO
(recites the verses written by the chancellor,
Saguwara-no-Michizane).
" The plum-tree follows me through the air,
Withered and dried is the cherry-tree.
Should then the pine-tree so lofty and fair
Alone be heartless and faithless to me?' 9
Rejoice, beloved wife, our son has died
The noble death of sacrifice for our dear lord !
(MISTEESS CHEEYO throws herself on the floor crying loudly.)
MATSUO
(much moved, turns towards her.)
O, my good wife, my perfect, faithful wife,
Yea, weep a mother's tears . . . well may you
do so.
(To Ganzo.)
You must forgive, Ganzo : The hearts of parents
Claim now their rights with overpowering force.
117
9ine*15ree.
GANZ5
(between surprise and emotion.)
I cannot grasp it. Do I dream ? Or is this
Reality ? Matsud, you, the vassal
Of Tokeeheera, are you not our foe ?
Have you not broken long ago the bonds
Which tied you formerly to Michizane's house ?
Just now I heard you talk and . . . your own
son . . .
And consciously your son I am amazed.
MATSUO.
Well may you be surprised. Disastrous fate,
Fate that misled me on a foreign path,
Fate that enticed me to assist a lord
Who rages ruthlessly against the men
I loved and worshipped since my early youth,
Against the lord and patron of my kindred,
Against my father, woe ! against my brothers !
Oh ! How I suffered to be parted from
All I respected, to be called ungrateful,
To know it was deserved, and all the same
Not to be able to do otherwise,
Lest I should baselv break mv feudal oath.
f /
Such grief, affliction, sorrow must I bear
llg
That I can only think, 'tis punishment
For crimes committed in a former life.
I could not bear it any longer. So,
In order to detach myself unnoticed
From Tokeeheera, I pretended that
Some illness had befallen me and asked
To be discharged from service. And, just then,
There came the news that in your house was
hidden
Kwan Shoozigh. Tokeeheera's order was
To kill the august child at once, to kill him
Before you could succeed, friend, in escaping,
To kill him and to bring his head to court
In attestation that the order was
Fulfilled. I was the only one who knew
Kwan Shoozigh's features. Therefore I was
ordered
To follow here the messenger, so that 1
Might answer for the victim's genuineness.
Such were the terms of my dismissal.
And now, Ganz5, now you have seen me doing
My duty, my last duty, let me thank
The gods from my heart's depth ! For have
they not
Allowed me to atone for my offence
119
And rid me of the burden of my crime
At last ? I knew, Ganzo, that you would try
To baulk the murd'rers of your youthful lord.
Yet what, what could you do ! There was no
time
For flight. Deception was the only means.
And then I saw, my hour had come. At once
I took the counsel of my own dear wife,
My poor, courageous wife and sent to you
My son. I left it to the gods and you
To use him as his young lord's substitute.
I came to settle the account. I saw
Those desks, and saw that there was one too
many,
And knew then that my little boy was here.
I realised what fate awaited me. But . . .
Ah me, was the fair pine-tree to be heartless
And faithless? Oh ! The words of our good
lord,
Our gracious, unforgotten lord, the words
He aimed at me resounded in my ears.
The whole world seemed to shout it in my face;
Yea, thou art heartless thou art faithless.
Think
What I have suffered ! And had I not had
A son, prepared to sacrifice himself
120
"She
For his own father's fault, I should have been
With my whole house subjected to the scorn,
The shame of all the world. My son ! My son !
Thou saviour of our honour !
MISTRESS CHEEYO.
Saviour of
Our honour . . . yes ! Let us repeat these
words,
A loving tribute to the blessed spirit
Of that dear child ! Oh, may they rise to
heaven,
And may they fill him with the purest joy !
Alas ! When here I left him, when he wished
To follow me, my heart became so sad,
So grieved to leave him in the jaws of death!
Let me embrace once more my darling child !
Oh, put him in my arms for the last time
And let me for the last time fondle him !
(She throws herself to the ground, crying aloud.)
MISTRESS TONARMEE
(approaches her full of pity).
Unhappy mother ! I can feel for you
In your affliction. I recall the words
He to his master said when first he saw him :
121
"She
" My lord, please take me. For I will with all
My heart be faithful, true, obedient."
Do I but think of it, an icy shudder
Pervades my frame ! and yet, no ties linked me
To him. What then must you, his mother, suffer ?
MATSUO.
Oh, master this o'erwhelming sorrow, wife,
And let us bear with courage what the gods
Have ruled must be our most distressing fate.
(To Ganzo.)
He knew, Ganzo, that he was going to meet
His death, when he was brought here by his
mother.
For I had told him, and of his own free will
He came, a fragile child of scarce eight years,
Yet fearless like a bold, undaunted hero.
Tell me, how did he die ? Begged he for life ?
GANZO.
He died a gallant death. No man could face it
More boldly than he did. I drew my sword
And whispered in his ear that he must die
At once and on the spot. He just smiled gently
And calmly offered me his neck, awaiting
The stroke.
122
MATSUO.
Oh brave, intrepid, faithful child !
With such fidelity, with such devotion
My brother also died in days gone by
For his dear lord. They now will find each other,
Will meet again, and in the other world
Enjoy a rich reward for their heroic
Sacrifice. (Sobbing.) Oh, pardon me, Ganzo, if I
My tears withhold not . . .
(He weeps, and they all weep with him.)
(KWAN SHOOZIGH having heard the sobs in the next room,
opens the door and enters.)
SHOOZIGH.
Was it then for me,
For me this deed of blood and cruelty
Was done ? Had you but told me that these
soldiers
Were seeking me, I never would have let him
Make such a sacrifice. What misery !
How deeply you have shamed me !
(He weeps and covers his face with his sleeve. They all
sob. MATSUO silently gets up, goes to the door and
beckons to somebody outside.)
123
MATSUO.
My young lord !
Not with an empty hand came I. No gift
Could be more beautiful than that I brought you.
Look there. (He shows the door near to which some men
bring a closed litter, out of which SHOOZIGH'S mother descends.
She enters.)
SHOOZIGH.
O mother, my beloved mother !
(Shoozigh's mother.)
My son, my son !
GANZO
(after a short pause of joyful astonishment).
What do my eyes behold !
Can it be true ? 'Tis you, my noble lady ?
Oh, glad and joyful meeting ! Long ago
We sought you vainly, ev'rywhere. But you
Had disappeared. Where did you stay ? And
where
Found you a shelter ?
MATSUO.
Let me tell you all.
When this bloodthirsty, cruel tyrant threatened
Completely to destroy the noble kin
Of Sugawara, I in secret led
124
Our gracious lady forth to Saga, where,
However, she was soon found out. Disguised
I went to see her. Who in that old begging friar
Could have suspected me ? Through many
dangers
I brought her here in safety, undiscovered.
In safety ? Nay ! E'en now we are not safe.
Therefore let us at once for our departure
Make ready. We must make great haste and
reach
Kawachi, must have the frontier between
Ourselves and our fierce enemy. And, besides,
We there shall find the noble lady's daughter,
Awaiting anxiously her mother and
Her brother. Quick ! Depart at once ! The
slightest
Delay may mean irrevocable ruin.
(To Mistress Cheeyo.)
And now, wife, let us, as becomes his parents,
Perform our sacred duty. Let us bury
All that remains to us of our dear child,
And offer sacrifice to his pure spirit.
(Meanwhile MISTRESS TONARMEE has gone in the other
room. Now she comes back carrying in her arms
the body hidden in a shroud. MATSUO and MISTRESS
CHEEYO take off their outer garments, under which
they already wear the white mourning dresses.)
125
GANZO
No, no ! Matsuo ! It would be too heartless
Were we to leave to you, the stricken parents,
The mournful burden of this ceremony.
My wife and I ...
MATSUO.
Oh, grant to me this duty.
(Significantly.)
For, friend, 'tis not my son whom I must now
Lament and bury 'tis Shoozigh, the prince.
(He takes the body in his arms and carries it away. And
while the others follow him, sobbing, the curtain is closed.)
THE END.
THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE
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THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY
WILL INCREASE TO 5O CENTS ON THE FOURTH
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OVERDUE.
FEB 28 1938
^4
APR 231930
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Ill*
196835
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12 "69 -11 AM
RECTD LD
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384958
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY