To the low earth you sink, an angel dwelling
 In the dingy world.

ANGEL.

This way, that way.
 Despair only.

HAKURYŌ.

But when she saw he was resolved to keep it ...

ANGEL.

Strength failing.

HAKURYŌ.

Help none ...

CHORUS.

Then on her coronet,
 Jewelled as with the dew of tears,
 The bright flowers drooped and faded.[172]
 O piteous to see before the eyes,
 Fivefold the signs of sickness
 Corrupt an angel’s form.

ANGEL.

I look into the plains of heaven,
 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,[173]
 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.

HAKURYŌ.

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!

HAKURYŌ.

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.
 Give back my mantle, I cannot dance without it.
 Say what you will, I must first have back the robe.

HAKURYŌ.

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.

HAKURYŌ.

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.

HAKURYŌ.

The sky-robe flutters; it yields to the wind.

ANGEL.

Sleeve like a flower wet with rain ...

HAKURYŌ.

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 Shintō chant.)

“Why name we
 Wide-stretched and everlasting.
 The sky of heaven?
 Two gods[174] there came of old
 And built, upon ten sides shut in,
 A measured world for men;
 But without limit arched they
 The sky above, 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,[175] yet came I to the East incarnate,[176]
 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,
 This colour on the headland,
 Snow on the mountain,[177]
 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,[178]
 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.[179]
 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;[180]
 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, Monarch of the Moon,
 Be glory and praise,
 Thou son of Seishi Omnipotent![181]

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 Mai” 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[182] 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.


CHAPTER VI


Note on Tanikō 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. Tanikō is still played; but Ikeniye, though printed by both Ōwada and Haga, has probably not been staged for many centuries.

The pilgrims of Tanikō 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 Sōhei (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.

TANIKŌ
(THE VALLEY-HURLING)

PART I

By ZENCHIKU

PERSONS

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.

TEACHER.

It is 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. Besides, 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 is ill I will go with you to pray for her.

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 impossible 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.[183]

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 climbing. 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 is 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 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
 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.[184]

IKENIYE
(THE POOL-SACRIFICE)

PART I

By SEAMI[185]

PERSONS

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 drawing 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 holy 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?

(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 attending 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 understand. 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
 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
 Till 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.

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 daïs, 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.

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 something 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 speaking bravely
 Because she was his dear daughter
 His secret tears
 Could not be checked.

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 ZEMBŌ MOTOYASU (1453-1532).

PERSONS

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 the 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 no trace?

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).