SAGAMI AND FUJI (slowly in unison): If destiny allows . . .
CHANTER: . . . say the women . . .
KUMAGAI AND MIDAROKU: . . . we shall meet again . . .
CHANTER: . . . say the men.
YOSHITSUNE: Live your lives in good health!
CHANTER (singing): Hearing their lord’s will, with tears of gratitude, tears of sad remembrance . . . (Kumagai looks at Yoshitsune with an expression of gratitude. He bursts into tears and bows down to the ground. After a moment he rises, and Sagami puts over his shoulder a monk’s alms bag and gives him a plain straw hat and walking staff.) . . . reminded, the general takes into his own hands Kojirō’s head.
YOSHITSUNE: This shall be consecrated at Suma Temple, so that the unblemished name of . . . Atsumori, inscribed in gold shall live for generations to come. (They pose for a moment in silence, then express their unbearable anguish in a linked dialogue of alternating phrases.)
MIDAROKU: Though we pity the flower, mentioned on the sign . . .
FUJI: . . . of Musashibō Benkei, we must pity more . . .
SAGAMI: . . . the forsaken samurai . . .
RETAINER: . . . the pride of a warrior thrown aside . . .
KUMAGAI: . . . a traveler whose place of rest will never be known . . .
YOSHITSUNE: . . . in this transient and mutable . . .
ALL: . . . world of man!
CHANTER: Tears cloud their voices!
YOSHITSUNE: Kumagai! (Slowly Kumagai turns back. Although he has renounced the world, he cannot help wishing for a final view of his son.)
KUMAGAI (anguished): Now that I am entering Buddha’s blessed land . . . all cares have vanished! (He turns away from Kojirō to gain control over himself, trying to forget the ties of earthly affections, but he cannot. Again he turns to look at his son.) Ahh! Sixteen years have passed, like a single day! Ahh! It is a dream, a dream! (Numbly he lifts his hand to wipe away a single tear. He turns his back on Kojirō.)
CHANTER (quietly singing): A single teardrop of dew, splashing to the ground; from a holly leaf sprinkled, by winter’s first snow; melted in the sun’s clear light13 . . . how like Kumagai! (Kumagai, Fuji, Midaroku, Sagami, and Yoshitsune stand in a strong group pose. The curtain is slowly closed to loud, accelerating ki clacks. Drawn once again by the memory of the son he killed, Kumagai slowly pivots to look back. His shoulders are slumped, the hat and staff hang loosely in his hands. The music stops. He stands motionless, silently recalling the past. Hesitantly, as if worldly ties were holding him back, he begins to leave, each deliberate footstep accented by drum and cymbals and shamisen music. He pauses, looks up once more, and, then with an expression of agonized resolve, pulls down his hat sharply in a gesture of humility and runs faster and faster down the hanamichi and off to accelerating music and loud bata-bata tsuke breaks.)
[Toita Yasuji, ed., Kabuki meisakusen 2: 71–86, adapted from a translation by James Brandon]
SUGA SENSUKE
Suga Sensuke (ca. 1767–1791), the son of a doctor, began his career as a professional jōruri chanter. In 1767 he wrote his first play, Dyed Pattern Lovers New Year Pine (Some moyō imose no kadomatsu), which was a tremendous success. He continued to perform as Toyotake Kōtayū for another three years and then became a full-time playwright. Thirty-three plays, many of which are revisions of the works of Chikamatsu Monzaemon and other playwrights, bear his name, ten as the sole author and the rest as a coauthor. His best works were contemporary-life pieces (sewamono) rather than period plays (jidaimono). Together with Chikamatsu Hanji (1725–1783), Sensuke created the last flourish of playwriting for jōruri puppet theater. Many of his plays are performed today in both bunraku and kabuki.
GAPPŌ AT THE CROSSROADS (SESSHŪ GAPPŌ GA TSUJI, 1773)
Written by Suga Sensuke (ca. 1767–1791) and Wakatake Fuemi (ca. 1759–1799), Gappō at the Crossroads was first performed in Osaka in 1773, in the last decades of a century-long period of playwriting that had given bunraku and kabuki the core of its current repertoire. The climactic scene from act 2, which is translated here and is performed today as a separate play, was written by Sensuke, the senior playwright of the pair.
Gappō at the Crossroads is a historical play set in the age of Hōjō Takatoki (1303–1333), the leader of the Kamakura military government, but it has the tone and content of a contemporary-life play (sewamono). Sensuke blends two distinct “worlds” (sekai) to produce something totally new yet abundantly familiar. Two stepmother legends are woven together: one from the Aigonowaka “world” in which an upright, handsome young man (Aigonowaka) is desired and ultimately destroyed by his stepmother (Kumoi no mae), and the other from the Shuntoku/Shintoku “world” in which an equally handsome and well-born fellow is driven to blindness and suffering by the slandering of an evil stepmother who wishes to make her own son the heir to the household. The main strand of the Aigonowaka “world” can be found in the seventeenth-century miracle (sekkyō) play Aigonowaka; that of Shuntoku/Shintoku, in the miracle play Young Shintoku (Shintoku-maru), the nō play Unsteady Beggar Priest (Yoroboshi), and Namiki Sosuke’s Young Musicians and Model Wives (Futaba reijin azuma no hinagata, 1733).
In the miracle play Young Shintoku, Shintoku, a young man of good family, is cursed, slandered, and driven out of his home by his stepmother but is saved in the end by his childhood fiancee (Otohime). In the nō play, Takayasu Michitoshi, deceived by someone’s slanderous words, has driven out his only son, Shuntoku, and is praying at Tennō-ji temple when his son (the shite, or protagonist), now a blind beggar, appears on the temple grounds and is recognized by and eventually reconciled with his father. In Sosuke’s Young Musicians and Model Wives, a rival tricks Shuntoku into drinking poisoned sake, but it is Shuntoku’s lover (Hatsuhana) who saves him by offering her own blood, since she was born on the day, month, and year of the tiger, a condition necessary for the antidote. In Gappō at the Crossroads, Suga Sensuke created the character Tamate from both the Aigonowaka and the Shuntoku/Shintoku “worlds”: Tamate is both the stepmother who causes the stepson’s blindness and the lover who sacrifices herself to restore his health. This innovative twist produced a complex character whose dramatic potential and implications are deepened by a knowledge of these preexisting “worlds.”
The main characters in Suga Sensuke’s jōruri version are Tamate Gozen, formerly Otsuji (her name is the “Crossroads” of the title), now the wife of Lord Takayasu, an old and sick samurai; Tamate’s father, Gappō, a former samurai turned poor priest; Gappo’s wife; Shuntoku, the handsome heir of Lord Takayasu and stepson of Tamate; and Shuntoku’s fiancee, Lady Asaka. In the first act, Tamate, originally a lady-in-waiting but now the principal wife of Lord Takayasu, discovers that Shuntoku’s half brother Jirō (by a concubine) is plotting to kill Shuntoku in order to become the family heir. During a pilgrimage to Sumiyoshi Shrine, Tamate takes the opportunity to share some sake with Shuntoku and confesses her love for him. At the same time she poisons his sake, which causes him to fall ill and become blind. Shuntoku, pained by the forbidden desires of his stepmother, subsequently flees, and Tamate pursues him. In the second act, while gathering funds for a Buddhist hall at the Western Gate of the Tennō-ji temple, Gappō, Tamate’s father, comes across the blind and disfigured Shuntoku and his fiancee, Asaka, and takes them to his own house. That evening, Gappō and his wife, thinking that their daughter, having committed an unspeakable act, has been killed, carry out services for her soul. In the scene that follows, Tamate, seeking out Shuntoku, unexpectedly appears at her parents’ house.
Like the Phaedra character of Euripides, Seneca, and Racine, Tamate sees death as the only escape from her illicit love. After she is stabbed, she begins a long explanation of her actions, particularly about finding a poison with the well-known folk antidote of blood from the liver of a woman born at the particular moment of Tamate’s own birth: the year, month, day, and hour of the tiger. As her audience begins to believe that her actions were a scheme to save both her stepsons from death, all
her wanton passion is transformed into virtue. And yet Suga Sensuke has her seek death almost too passionately, and so her remarks create an atmosphere of ambiguity by echoing an earlier moment in act 1 when Tamate first tried to seduce Shuntoku. When he protests that she is intoxicated with the sake they have exchanged, she replies:
No, I’m neither drunk nor crazy. From when I first came to serve your mother, I was entranced by your beauty and always wanted to confess my love but feared a letter would fall into the wrong hands. Although I didn’t care about myself, I didn’t want your name to be ruined. But what happened while I was still holding back is all too cruel. After your mother died, I was asked to become your father’s wife. I could hardly refuse such a request, as that would mean I couldn’t live near you any longer. I had no choice but to become a parent and bear the pain of being your mother. Hidden away much longer, my love would have smoldered and burned until I died.
The blind Shuntoku. (Photograph courtesy of Barbara Curtis Adachi Collection, C. V. Starr East Asian Library, Columbia University)
Later in the same scene in act 1, Tamate confesses, “I’m the servant of the former mistress. I’m not your parent; you’re not my child. I’ll follow you anywhere. I can’t live any longer if we’re not married. Even though I may be thought to be like a bitch in heat, I’ll follow you everywhere. I’m a hawk; I’ll never let you free.”
The portrayal of a woman’s passion is not unusual in the Japanese tradition, and many of the best nō and bunraku plays depict women who are willing to die or suffer in hell for love. The genius of Suga Sensuke’s character Tamate is that she does not appear to be entirely innocent. The technique of having a character appear as one thing (usually evil or, at least, unpleasant) and then at a crucial moment reveal his or her true intentions is a common motif in bunraku and kabuki. The tension created between the surface action and the “true” feelings is exploited by performers who developed histrionic techniques to present characters at two levels, an important element in all traditional Japanese acting. Since women made up a large proportion of both the bunraku and kabuki audiences and the amateur performers, one can well imagine an author subtly probing the audiences’ latent and forbidden desires. In the end Tamate dies a virtuous woman, her desires transformed, at least on the surface, into motherly devotion.
CHARACTERS
GAPPŌ, a former samurai of good lineage, now a poor priest
WIFE, Gappō’s wife and mother of Tamate
TAMATE, Tamate Gozen, Gappō’s daughter, whose original name was Otsuji (Crossroads), or Tsuji, originally a maidservant to Lord Takayasu’s wife, but after his wife’s early death, Lord Takayasu’s principal wife and the stepmother of Shuntoku
SHUNTOKU, Shuntoku-maru, the handsome heir of Lord Takayasu and stepson of Tamate, one or two years younger than Tamate; now a blind leper and engaged to Princess Asaka
LADY ASAKA, daughter of a wealthy lord from Izumi Province, engaged to Shuntoku
LORD TAKAYASU, Takayasu Michitoshi, the lord of Kawachi Province (in present-day Osaka) and the father of Shuntoku, now elderly and in ill health
IRIHEI, Lord Takayasu’s servant
Act 2, Climactic Scene
CHANTER (sings): Dark is the path at night. Bright should be the way of love, but dark like a black opal is the heart of Tamate Gozen, the Jewel Princess. Unable to find her lover Shuntoku, she has come to her parents’ home, her face veiled but unable to hide the shame of her flaming cheeks. She kept their relationship a secret, but she now returns to her childhood home seeking refuge. Behind her is Irihei, Lord Takayasu’s servant, who has heard that Shuntoku and Lady Asaka have come to this area. Catching sight of Lady Tamate, he hides in order to watch what will happen. Unaware of his presence, Tamate calls out in a high-pitched, strained voice.
[TAMATE]: Mother, Mother!
CHANTER: Gappō recognizes the voice instantly but says to himself:
[GAPPŌ]: What . . . aren’t you dead? Weren’t you killed?
CHANTER: He jumps up but has an idea. He looks around and sees that his wife hasn’t heard anything because of the bell and her chanting. “That’s lucky!” he says and ignores the visitor.
[TAMATE]: Mother, Mother, open the door!
CHANTER: The sound of the knocking reaches the wife.
[WIFE]: Gappō, dear, did you say something?
[GAPPŌ]: No, no, I didn’t say anything. You must have ringing in your ears.
[WIFE]: I may have imagined it, but I’d swear I heard our daughter’s voice.
CHANTER: She stands up.
[TAMATE]: Is that Mother’s voice? Please open the door. It’s Tsuji. I’m home.
CHANTER: The wife is shocked.
[WIFE]: Is it a dream, are you really home? How wonderful that you’re still alive.
Tamate, her face veiled, returns to her parents’ house. (Photograph courtesy of Barbara Curtis Adachi Collection, C. V. Starr East Asian Library, Columbia University)
CHANTER: But as she goes toward Tamate, Gappō grabs her sleeve.
[GAPPŌ]: No, no, no. Don’t be foolish. Even if she’s our flesh and blood, she’s an adulterous beast. Lord Takayasu would never let her escape here. How did you make it this far? What have you come stumbling in here for? There’s no way you can hide from him; you’ll be discovered. You told him you had no parents, but he must know the truth. From time to time when you sent money to help us, it was Lord Takayasu’s benevolence. How could you deceive a husband like that! I can’t let a lecherous daughter through the door. My daughter is dead. It’s the voice of a ghost. Doesn’t that frighten you? The closer a person is, the more frightening it is. Don’t you dare open the door.
CHANTER: And yet his wife replies.
[WIFE]: No, no. It’s ridiculous to say it’s a ghost. Even if it’s a badger or fox in disguise, I want to see my daughter’s face once more. Even if I see a frightening demon and fall into a frenzy and die, I’ll still be happy. I’d rather die in front of my daughter than continue to live a life of shame. Just a quick look.
CHANTER: She tries to break loose, but he holds onto her even more tightly.
[GAPPŌ]: Think again, dear! It’s not so bad if it’s a fox or badger or even a ghost. What if it’s really our daughter? I’ll have to use these hands again to wield a sword—to take her life. It’s my duty to Lord Takayasu. That’s why I’m holding you back.
CHANTER (sings): Although he does not weep, his wife and daughter feel the compassion in his heart; they grieve face to face, heart to heart—despite being separated by the door. Tamate wipes away her tears and leans against the door.
[TAMATE]: I can understand why Father is angry and bitter. But I have a reason for doing this, and I must keep out of sight. Please open the door.
CHANTER (sings): In tears, she pleads.
[WIFE]: Gappō did you hear that? She has a reason. Please, you must listen to her story. If you consider her your daughter, you have a duty. But if we let in a ghost, we have no responsibility.
[GAPPŌ]: Yes, I guess you’re right. If it’s a spirit from the lower world, then we have no need to worry about the eyes of the world. Call her in and offer the ghost a bite to eat. The poor thing has no place to rest; even ghosts get hungry.
CHANTER (sings): Duty forces him to look away, an action a hundred times more painful than weeping. His wife is delighted and hurriedly opens the door.
[TAMATE]: How long it’s been! How good it is to see you again!
CHANTER: The mother touches Tamate’s skin, confirming that it is indeed her daughter.
[WIFE]: How wonderful to see you healthy. It was awful to carry out a funeral service, thinking that you were dead. It seems like a dream that you should appear unharmed on the very night we were praying for your soul.
CHANTER: The mother hugs her, weeping tears of joy. Her father, too, turns around unwittingly to look at the face he hasn’t seen for years, but thoughts of duty restrain him. He fidgets about, not knowing what to do with himself. His wife finally calms hi
m down.
[WIFE]: There are rumors that you fell in love with Shuntoku and left your husband’s home. They say you’re an adulterer. But you could never do anything like that. It can’t be right. It must be all a lie. It is a lie, isn’t it? Surely it’s a lie.
CHANTER (sings): A mother’s love leads her daughter on, like spoon-feeding a child. Tamate seems embarrassed.
[TAMATE] (in an aria-like song): Even though you say the rumor’s a lie, it must be karma from a past life. I fell in love with young Shuntoku, and waking or sleeping I could think of nothing but him. Finally, I had to open my heart to him. His response was cold—saying it wasn’t proper, since I was his stepmother. But his refusal inflamed my love all the more. The deeper I fell into the abyss, the more determined I became to follow him anywhere. Barefoot, I chased him to the Bay of Naniwa. Take pity on my heart; it’s exhausted by love. For love of your own child, help me find him and make us husband and wife.
CHANTER: She begs with folded hands, but her mother, more shocked than ever, can only stare dumbfoundedly at her child’s face. For a moment her father is silent. Then from the storage room he takes out his old sword.
[GAPPŌ]: You lecherous beast. I’ve never told you, but my father was Aoto Saemon Fujitsuna. He was chosen by Shōgun Tokiyori to run his government, and he was praised as a model samurai. Thanks to his fame, I was made a provincial lord. But under Lord Takatoki’s reign, I was slandered by sycophants, and twenty years ago, I became a rōnin. Now I’m a priest who has been forgotten by the world, but within me is the firm integrity of my father. When I think of my reckless, wanton daughter—a disgrace to womanhood, to all humanity—the anger crushes my bones. Yet I see that Lord Takayasu’s compassion has allowed you to live on until now. At first you were a maidservant to the former lady of the house. When he offered to make you his official wife, I tried to have you leave his service, but he insisted, out of sense of righteousness and love, that you become his wife. If he hadn’t been so kind and showered you with favors, it wouldn’t have come to this! You can see for yourself why I must kill you. I’m happy that Lord Takayasu has spared you out of regard for us. If you felt even a bit of shame, no matter how much you loved Lord Shuntoku, you would be able to give him up. But this . . . you’ve been allowed to go free, and even then you come begging to us to help you marry him! Such nerve! How could you say such things? My duty to Lord Takayasu demands that I save you. I could never stand on my honor if I let you continue to live. Prepare yourself for the end.
Early Modern Japanese Literature: An Anthology, 1600–1900 Page 63
