The popular reciter, or so-called “farce man,” now appears and narrates the story of Yorimasa’s exploits and death, in the language of the common folk, while conversing with the priest. During this recital, the drums are laid upon the floor, and the musicians face each other rather than the audience, in attitudes of repose. At the close of the conversation, the priest speaks of his encounter with the aged farmer, of his sudden disappearance, and of his own rising suspicion that this seeming of a mere peasant might have been indeed the spirit of the departed hero.
“LEADING ACTORS IN THE DRAMAS OF THAT DAY”
And now the orchestra begin again. The drums beat time and the flute wails in company with the weird cry of “Yo-hé” from the drummers. Soon the spirit of Yorimasa appears upon the stage; but no longer in the guise of an aged peasant; he is gorgeously arrayed in garments of gold brocade, with a general’s sword and fan; and in an elaborate dance he gives his version of the story of the battle. On being questioned by the priest, the spirit reveals himself as indeed Yorimasa, and humbly begs for the religious man’s intercessory prayers. The priest assures the warrior that his soul can be saved by these prayers. Comforted by this promise, the hero then resumes the story of the battle,—how valiantly he fought on the bridge over the river Uji; how the enemy succeeded in crossing the river and overcoming him. Seating himself on the stump of a broken tree, he mourns his defeat and wasted life in a touching poem, the translation of which is something like this:
“On the grass that is fan-shaped,
My life ended like the life of this tree;
Buried beneath the earth.
Its fruitless fate, was indeed a sad one;
For it neither blossomed nor flourished.”
The drama ends when the warrior, overcome by the memory of his own sorrows and by grief for those slain with him in battle, throws down his sword and weeps,—spreading out his fan before him.