by A. L. Sadler
The Kyogen pieces are classified according to the subject, as Peasant, Deformed Person, Drunkard, Thief, Quack, Bridegroom, Governor, Priest, Wandering Friar, Daimyo, Page, Old Man, Woman, and God and Devil pieces, and are remarkable in Japanese older literature, though they have no literary value, as being the only examples of writing dealing with the ordinary people, whose existence is only assumed as taxpayers and providers of supplies in the background for the courtiers, warriors, and ecclesiastics whose doings alone are important enough to be chronicled. But in the Kyogen these people are shown behaving as they did in the everyday life of the Ashikaga period, to which these compositions belong, and in the colloquial dialect of which they are written. It is about the only survival of the medieval colloquial and interesting as such, for it does not differ so very widely from the modern Kyoto and Osaka dialects.
Some of these interludes are a parody of the Noh with its ghost-hero such as Tsu-en, which is modelled on Minamoto Yorimasa’s fight at Uji, a place that became later on famous for its tea. The Cuttle-fish is another of this type, and there are many more. The others emphasize those aspects of human nature in both high and low that neither religion nor discipline exactly approve of, but which in Japan are regarded probably with less intolerance than in many countries as long as they do not interfere too much with efficiency. As the proverb observes, even the austere warrior-monk Benkei, a sort of gigantic Japanese Galahad-the-Wake, was not without his one romance, and considered the more interesting therefore. Yet the text of the Kyogen is always quite decorous and free from any coarseness. And it is not remarkable that the Buddhist clergy should not be spared, seeing the little regard the educated and ruling classes in Japan have ever had for the non-producing ecclesiastic with his medieval heaven and hell. The ideal of the warrior was to fear nothing, and it is very noticeable how in stories of collision between this “bushi” and the supernatural powers, the latter usually get the worst of it. With the Shinto Deities people were on terms of good humored, though not always very well informed, respect.
Of the individual Noh here translated, Murōzumi and Kamono-Chomei are Buddhist, the former founded on the tradition of the temple of that name and the latter on Chomei’s well-known book, to which here a rather quaint happy ending is added. Hatsu-yuki and Kakitsubata are characteristic of the metamorphosis Noh. Tadanori and Tomoe are famous episodes from the Heike tales, while Oyashiro and Kokaji are of Shinto complexion, and Tamura combines Buddhism with the history of the first authentic Shogun. Shōjo is Chinese, and also auspicious, for it ends in a Japanese patriotic refrain sung by all the well-inebriated. Iwabune too celebrates the happiness of peaceful commerce.
This introduction is merely intended to give a very brief explanation of the text, and those who require more detailed elucidation may find it in the introductions to G. B. Sansom’s translations of Noh in the Trans. As. Soc. of Japan, Vol. 28, or in A. Waley’s No, F. V. Dickins’s Primitive and Medieval Japanese Texts, Lombard’s Japanese Drama, and, in German, in Gundert’s Der Schintoismus im Japanischen No-drama.
In Japanese I have used Owada’s Yōkyoku Tsukai and Yōkyoku Hyōshaku, while I have found extremely useful a small work entitled No to Utai no Kōwa by the late Professor Takahiko Amanuma, as also Meisaku Yōkyoku Shinsaku by Nomoto Yonekichi, kindly presented to me by Lieutenant-Commander T. Onitsuka; and for the Kabuki theater Goto Keiji’s Nikon Gekijo-shi.
I owe very much also to Professor Hirotaro Hattori of the Imperial University of Tokyo and the Gakushuin, for his great kindness in so often lending me his box at the Kwanzei No theater, whereby my knowledge and appreciation were very much increased.
A. L. S.
Footnotes
* Hand-drum.
† Noh is merely an abbreviation of Sarugaku-no-Noh, or performance of Sarugaku.
* The order of these five pieces should be according to the convention, Shin, Gun Jo, Kyo, Ki. God, Warrior, Woman, Madness, Devil. It is explained that Japan is the country of the Gods, while warriors have always been there to support them. Women solace the warrior in the intervals of his activity. Madness is presumably interesting as a variation, while devils must not be omitted. But in practice this order is not necessarily adhered to, e.g. Noh of an auspicious or duty or propriety type often being substituted, especially for the last two.
NOH PLAYS
TADANORI
PROTAGONIST IN THE FIRST ACT AN OLD WOODMAN;
IN THE SECOND ACT TAIRA TADANORI
DEUTERAGONIST IN BOTH ACTS, A TRAVELING PRIEST
TIME THE THIRD MONTH
PLACE SUMA
ACT I
PRIEST: I am one who has seen the vanity of this world. Even the flowers and the moon viewed through the clouds no longer attract me. Formerly I was a retainer of the Lord Shunzei, but when my master died I forsook the world and put on this priestly garb, and since I have never visited the western provinces, I bethought me to make a pilgrimage to those parts. So now I have come to the neighborhood of the capital, and look on the ruins of palace and mansion that have passed away, impermanent as a journey where there is no abiding-place. We who must mix with the filth of this world and yet have abandoned all its ties are too sad even to listen to the sighing of the wind in the trees or the sound of the rippling of the waves. The boom of the distant bell awakes us to the vanity of this world as it arouses the traveler from his rest.
WOODMAN: A hard life it is that I lead. When I am not carrying sea water for salt I am laden with wood to boil it, and what with one and the other my garments are never dry. Like the ceaseless cry of the birds is the hoarse voice of the fisherman at his nets. This shore of Suma has a name for loneliness, as the poet Narihira wrote:
“How I spend my days,
Should my friends chance to inquire,
You may tell them this.
On the lonely Suma beach,
I am cutting wood for salt.”
On the hills near Suma there is a cherry tree that recalls the memory of one long dead, and when in spring it puts forth its flowers, and I happen to go that way, I break offa branch as an offering to the departed spirit.
PRIEST: Ha, old man! And are you one of the woodmen of these hills?
WOODMAN: It may be that I am a fisherman on that beach.
PRIEST: But if you were a fisherman your dwelling would be by the sea, and I take you for a woodman because your occupation seems to be in these hills.
WOODMAN: How else should I get wood to boil my salt water?
PRIEST: True, true. And so we see the smoke go up at eve.
WOODMAN: To feed it I must tramp to fetch the fuel.
PRIEST: By various paths to hamlets far away,
WOODMAN: By Suma beach are people rarely seen.
PRIEST: But in the hills behind,
WOODMAN: That’s where the brushwood is ...
CHORUS: That’s where the brushwood is, and so he goes for fuel to boil his salt.
WOODMAN: Indeed your words are not a little simple, priest.
CHORUS: In truth the bay of Suma is not as other places, for flowers dislike the boisterous mountain breezes that sweep down from the hills and send them flying. But here ’tis otherwise, for Suma’s mountain cherry was smitten by a blast that blew from seaward.
PRIEST: See now, old man, the day is drawing to a close. I pray you give me lodging for the night.
WOODMAN: The shadow of this cherry tree is all the lodging I can offer.
PRIEST: Indeed it is a very bower of blossom. And who can be the host, I wonder.
WOODMAN:
“Now the daylight dies,
And the shadow of a tree
Serves me for an inn.
For the host to welcome me
There is but a wayside flower.”
He who wrote these lines lies deep beneath the moss, but even we poor fishers often gather to say a requiem for him, so why do not you, a priest, take the opportunity of acquiring merit by repeating a prayer in passing?
PRIEST: That verse is Sat
suma-no-kami Tadanori’s, is it not?
WOODMAN: Indeed it is. And when he fell in the battle that was fought hard by some friend planted this tree in his memory.
PRIEST: How strange a chance. For I am of the House of Shunzei.
WOODMAN: His master and beloved fellow poet.
PRIEST: So here I stay tonight.
CHORUS: So let him hear the blessed sound of prayer, and may he take his seat on heaven’s flowery terraces.
WOODMAN: I am most grateful for these prayers said for me, and do rejoice that thereby I grow in enlightenment.
CHORUS: How strange his words! It seems that this old man takes to himself these holy prayers and is much comforted. How can this be?
WOODMAN: ’Twas for the prayers of this priest that I came hither.
CHORUS: And now sleep soundly ’neath this cherry tree, and in a dream you shall be told the message I will have taken to the capital. (And suddenly he disappears none knoweth whither.) Yes, hurry hence back to the capital and tell these things to Teika, Shunzei’s son. Now the moon rises high, sadly the sea birds flit. The sea breeze scarcely sighs, soundly the traveler sleeps, by Suma’s ancient strand where once the guard-house stood.
ACT II
PROTAGONIST AS TADANORI’S SPIRIT: Now in this place where I was slain again I take my former shape that I may declare all that is in my mind, for there is one thing above all that draws me to this world and holds me back from the Buddha realm, and it is this:
For when my verse was chosen by Shunzei,
And placed in the Imperial Anthology,
Since I was then a rebel ’gainst the throne,
My name was not attached,
But it was signed “A verse by one unknown.”
This was the most Shunzei could do for me.
And now that he is dead,
Do you go back and tell his son from me
That my name must be written.
CHORUS:
Born of a house so skilled in native verse
How reasonable his wish!
He was a lord of very great renown,
Of equal skill in war and literature,
And when our Sovereign the Retired Emperor
Ordered this anthology to be made,
The Lord Shunzei, Courtier of the Th ird Rank,
Was chosen to compile it.
And when this Tadanori went from home
To fight the Genji by the Western Sea,
He came to bid his master first farewell
And ask him to include a verse of his.
And this he did, but could not have it signed,
Because the Heike, Tadanori’s house,
Were rebels against the throne,
And in the battle that was fought by Suma beach
The Heike, routed, scattered to their ships.
TADANORI:
And as I rode away to get on board,
Okabe Tadazumi of the Genji house
With six or seven retainers challenged me.
At him I rode and threw him from his horse
And grappled him and would have had his head,
When one of his retainers, creeping around behind,
Cut my right arm through with a single blow.
Then seeing all was lost I drew aside
To say the death prayer, and Okabe’s sword
Took off my head with the last syllable.
“Alas,” he said, “we warriors must slay,
But this was certainly no common foe.
His armor gay like autumn’s tinted leaves,
His robes and surcoat all of gold brocade
Show him to be a Taira lord at least.”
And so he searched to find out who I was,
And in my quiver there was stuck the verse.
Above it was the title, “Last Night’s Bivouac”--
“Now the daylight dies,
And the shadow of a tree
Serves me for an inn.
For the host to welcome me,
There is but a wayside flower.”
And so he knew ’twas Tadanori’s head
For that none other could have written this.
Now you know all, and so, as falls the flower,
I go again back to the dark abode.
KAKITSUBATA
PROTAGONIST A WOMAN WHO IS THE SPIRIT OF THE IRIS
DEUTERAGONIST A TRAVELING PRIEST
TIME THE FOURTH MONTH
PLACE PROVINCE OF MIKAWA
PRIEST: I am a priest who is traveling round all the provinces of the Empire, and thus far I have visited the capital and viewed all its famous spots and places of ancient memory and now I propose to continue my journey to the eastern country.
PILGRIM-SONG:
For every eve my lonely pillow changes
As every day I seek another lodging,
Through Mino and Owari lies my weary journey,
And now I reach the province of Mikawa.
CHORUS: Yea, pressing on I soon have reached Mikawa. And over there is a pool with great clumps of iris in full bloom, so I will go thither and view them closer. Ah, how the year fl ies by, for spring’s no sooner past than it is summer, and though some may say that trees and grasses have no mind, they never forget to array themselves in the proper hue for the season, and truly do they call the iris the flower of the fair face. (Kaoyohana.) How beautiful it is!
SPIRIT: Well, priest, and who are you? Why are you lingering here?
PRIEST: I am one who is visiting all the provinces of the Empire, and the loveliness of these irises attracted me. What may this place be called?
SPIRIT: This is Yatsubashi in the province of Mikawa, a place of great renown for these very irises. Consider them well for they are no ordinary blossoms. Mysterious is the affinity of their deep purple hue. ’Tis strange indeed you should not know of this.
PRIEST: Ah yes, there is some ancient verse that speaks of the iris of Yatsubashi in the province of Mikawa. Can you then tell me who it was who wrote it?
SPIRIT: It’s in the Tales of Ise. Because the river here flows in eight rills they call it Yatsubashi. Eight bridges cross the streams, and all around between them the flowers grow, a charming checkered pattern. And when he saw it the poet Narihira wove an acrostic on the five syllables of the word Kakitsubata to express his longing for the capital:
“Ah happy is the garment Kara-koromo
Of antique Chinese fashion Ki-tsutsu nare ni shi
That holds my love within it, Tsuma shi areba
While I am far away Haru-baru kinuru
Unable to approach her.” Tabi wo shi zo omou.
PRIEST: Ah, how charming! And did Ariwara-no-Narihira then travel as far as these distant provinces of the eastland?
SPIRIT: Indeed much farther. He journeyed through the country, viewing its famous places until he came to Mutsu, remote in the far northland. ’Tis strange you did not know it.
PRIEST: However far one journeyed through many a distant province, never could one forget the iris of Mikawa, the streams of Yatsubashi. And so this be loved purple hue remains—
SPIRIT: To keep alive the memory of him—
PRIEST: Who once was Narihira.
CHORUS:
And as these purple blossoms never fail
To keep their tryst with him in this place,
Do you, O wandering monk, repeat the holy texts
To further his enlightenment and mine,
For as I muse on these events long past,
I long to hear them.
SPIRIT: There’s something too I wish to say.
PRIEST: And what is that?
SPIRIT: ’Tis a poor place enough, but in this hut of mine I pray you pass the night.
PRIEST: I shall be most glad to do so.
SPIRIT: Behold this diadem and robe!
PRIEST: What does this glittering robe and courtly diadem in such a humble dwelling?
SPIRIT: This is the robe you read of in the poem, the robe of Princess Taka: and this, the
diadem that Narihira wore at the great court festival in the eleventh month. I wear them in their memory.
PRIEST: The robe and diadem. Ah yes, but who are you then?
SPIRIT: I am the spirit of the iris. You may have read in ancient verse how there was a woman who was transformed into an iris. And Narihira, now in Paradise, is a celestial Bodhisattva who protects the art of poetry. For poems are but holy Buddhist texts, by which all flesh may gain enlightenment, and trees and flowers, and all creation too.
PRIEST: It is a wondrous grace to this our world that to the trees and flowers inanimate it should be given to hear the Buddhist law.
SPIRIT: In days of old the dance of Narihira was stately as a Buddhist ritual.
PRIEST: And he, the Bodhisat of poetry, leaving his Paradise of Quiet Light, was here reborn and wandered everywhere to save mankind. But yet while everywhere he wandered his heart was ever in the capital.
SPIRIT: These Tales of Ise, of whom then were they written?
CHORUS: These tales of love and longing, of wanderings through the Empire, beginning not nor ending...
SPIRIT:
Of old there was a man,
Wearing the hat of manhood,
Who went to hunt at Nara,
Kasuga’s ancient city,
On lands he owned there.
CHORUS:
They say ’twas in the reign
Of Emperor Nimmyo,
And by Imperial edict—
With reverence be it spoken—
He was appointed envoy
To the spring festival
Of the Kasuga Shrine.
And granted his first head-dress,
The hat of early manhood.
SPIRIT: And by special grace of His Majesty.
CHORUS:
The ceremony of assuming it was held in the palace,
An honor of very rare occurrence.
But since good fortune in this world of ours
Is ever followed by adversity,
He fell on evil days,
And from the capital
Was sent to wander forth
Through all the eastern provinces.
