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
- A TEACHER.
- THE BOY’S MOTHER.
- PILGRIMS.
- A YOUNG BOY.
- LEADER OF THE PILGRIMS.
- CHORUS.
TEACHER.
I am a teacher. I keep a school at one of the temples in the City. I have a pupil whose father is dead; he has only his mother to look after him. Now I will go and say good-bye to them, for I am soon starting on a journey to the mountains. (He knocks at the door of the house.) May I come in?
BOY.
Who is it? Why, it is the Master who has come out to see us!
TEACHER.
Why is it so long since you came to my classes at the temple?
BOY.
I have not been able to come because my mother has been ill.
TEACHER.
I had no idea of that. Please tell her at once that I am here.
BOY (calling into the house).
Mother, the Master is here.
MOTHER.
Ask him to come in.
BOY.
Please come in here.
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
- THE TRAVELLER.
- HIS WIFE.
- HIS DAUGHTER.
- THE INNKEEPER.
- THE PRIEST.
- THE ACOLYTE.
- CHORUS.
TRAVELLER.
I am a man who lives in the Capital. Maybe because of some great wrong I did in a former life ... I have fallen into trouble and cannot go on living here.
I have a friend in the East country. Perhaps he would help me. I will take my wife and child and go at once to the ends of the East.
(He travels to the East, singing as he goes a song about the places through which he passes.)
We are come to the Inn. (Knocks at the door.) We are travellers. Pray give us shelter.
INNKEEPER.
Lodging, do you say? Come in with me. This way. Tell me, where have you come from?
TRAVELLER.
I come from the Capital, and I am going down to the East to visit my friend.
INNKEEPER.
Listen. I am sorry. There is something I must tell you privately. Whoever passes this night at the Inn must go to-morrow to the 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
- EVENING MIST, a servant girl.
- A LADY, the Abbot’s daughter.
- TWO NOBLE LADIES.
- THE SOUL OF THE BIRD HATSUYUKI (“Early Snow”).
- CHORUS.
Scene: The Great Temple at Izumo.
SERVANT.
I am a servant at the Nyoroku Shrine in the Great Temple of Izumo. My name is Evening Mist. You must know that the Lord Abbot has a daughter, a beautiful lady and gentle as can be. And she keeps a tame bird that was given her a year ago, and because it was a lovely white bird she called it Hatsuyuki, Early Snow; and she loves it dearly.
I have not seen the bird to-day. I think I will go to 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).
How sad to call to mind
When first it left the breeding-cage
So fair of form
And coloured white as snow.
We called it Hatsuyuki, “Year’s First Snow.”
And where our mistress walked
It followed like a shadow at her side.
But now alas! it is a bird of parting[186]
Though not in Love’s dark lane.
LADY.
There’s no help now. (She weeps bitterly.)
CHORUS.
Still there is one way left. Stop weeping, Lady,
And turn your heart to him who vowed to hear.
The Lord Amida, if a prayer be said—
Who knows but he can bring
Even a bird’s soul into Paradise
And set it on the Lotus Pedestal?[187]
LADY.
Evening Mist, are you not sad that Hatsuyuki has gone? ... But we must not cry any more. Let us call together the noble ladies of this place and for seven days sit with them praying behind barred doors. Go now and do my bidding.
(EVENING MIST fetches the NOBLE LADIES of the place).
TWO NOBLE LADIES (together).
A solemn Mass we sing
A dirge for the Dead;
At this hour of heart-cleansing
We beat on Buddha’s gong.
(They pray.)
NAMU AMIDA BUTSU
NAMU NYORAI
Praise to Amida Buddha,
Praise to Mida our Saviour!
(The prayers and gong-beating last for some time and form the central ballet of the play.)
CHORUS (the bird’s soul appears as a white speck in the sky).
Look! Look! A cloud in the clear mid-sky!
But it is not a cloud.
With pure white wings beating the air
The Snow-bird comes!
Flying towards our lady
Lovingly he hovers,
Dances before her.
THE BIRD’S SOUL.
Drawn by the merit of your prayers and songs
CHORUS.
Straightway he was reborn in Paradise.
By the pond of Eight Virtues he walks abroad:
With the Phœnix and Fugan his playtime passing.
He lodges in the sevenfold summit of the trees of Heaven.
No hurt shall harm him
For ever and ever.
Now like the tasselled doves we loose
From battlements on holy days
A little while he flutters;
Flutters a little while and then is gone
We know not where.