Kabuki

by Zoë Kincaid

The dejected schoolmaster sinks down deep in meditation, when his wife introduces the new pupil, the son of the faithful Matsuomaru. He does not look at the child at first, but when he does he gives a start, for the handsome boy is a veritable solution of his difficulties. He gazes steadfastly into his face, showing his determination. If the worst should happen, he will be obliged to kill the newcomer as the only means of saving the little prince.

A gorgeous red-faced official arrives to receive the head of the prince, and Matsuomaru accompanies him for purposes of identification, while the fathers of the pupils prostrate themselves humbly on the hanamichi, waiting to take their precious children home, afraid of the peril that awaits one of the pupils in Genzo’s school.

The examination by the pompous official of the school children must always remain a classic of the Japanese stage, as one by one they are called, the official placing his fan under their chins to look into their upturned faces, Matsuomaru shaking his head as the country bumpkins pass before him,—a comic relief from the tenseness created by the coming tragedy.

Not finding the prince, the official and his numerous attendants, or country policemen, file into the school and take possession. Matsuomaru says that not even an ant can escape, as a warning to Genzo, and the impatient official demands that the head may be cut off without delay.

Nakamura Ganjiro of Osaka as Genzo, the village schoolmaster in Terakoya, or the Village School, by Takeda Izumo.

Genzo hesitates; the head-box the official has brought is under his arm. Then he goes to an inner room, and the sound of the blow of a sword is heard. Genzo returns and the box with its gory trophy is placed before Matsuomaru for final judgement. The actor taking the rôle of Matsuomaru suggests without words Matsuomaru’s anxiety. The face of Michizane’s heir may confront him, or he may be obliged to look upon the face of his own child, and this forms one of the most dramatic situations in the scene.

“Good!” he says at last. “There is no mistake! It is the real head!”—and he covers it up quickly, since he cannot bear the sight of Kotaru’s face.

Genzo, who has been watching closely, ready to strike Matsuomaru down with his sword should he disclaim the head, exchanges an amazed but relieved glance with his wife. The tension is over.

Then comes the explanation, Matsuomaru asking how Kotaru behaved knowing that he had to die for the prince; the regrets of Genzo and his wife; the meeting of the little prince with his mother. Of all the countless loyalty scenes of the Japanese stage, Terakoya for construction, pathos, and swiftness of movement cannot be surpassed.