The priests in their quiet black and white costumes are a foil for the radiant princess who, upon her entrance, becomes the centre of the picture, and by her changing movements absorbs all the attention. As soon as the kimono of her serpent highness vanishes like magic under the deft touch of the black-robed stage attendant, the lady with the hidden snake-like nature undergoes a series of rapid costume-transformations, one exquisite creation following the other.
Now she dances with a little gilt drum, small rounds of silver, or bewilders with a sudden display of scarlet and gold disks, one on her head, and one in each hand, that give place to a succession of others, or simply waves a wand of cherry blossoms. As a relief to the movements of the snake in disguise, a large number of theatrical priests dance, motley fellows in yellow, black, grey, and red, adding to the rhythm which is felt as the compelling undercurrent of the whole piece.
When the serpent-princess feels her diabolical self getting the best of her, she seeks safety in the big bell swinging high overhead. It descends, and she disappears within. Then the priests work hard trying to exorcise the evil spirit, all to no purpose. Their movements about the big bell add to the picturesqueness of the scene.
Soon the hanamichi is again filled with strong men, clad in white and silver kimono, who come to use their force against the princess-serpent, for the priests cannot prevail. With one accord and uttering a long cry in unison, they take hold of the bell-rope and begin to haul.
By degrees the great bell swings upward, and a weird figure is seen crouching under a blue-green silk scarf. To the thunder of big drums, the serpent begins a fighting-dance which makes a strong stage movement and prepares for the entrance of a hero resplendent in vivid green, bright red, shining gold and black, armed with a huge piece of green bamboo. He comes to subdue the creature of evil that, entirely surrounded, climbs upon the top of the bell, and crouches there, a frightful figure in silver brocade, black flowing mane, and face terrible to behold. The priests in fear and trembling wrap themselves about the bell as in a human cord, and the valiant man stands triumphant.
After it is all over and the curtain is drawn, the inquisitive theatre-goer wonders how it was possible for the beautiful princess to completely change into the garments and make-up of the uncanny creature within the limited space underneath the bell. But that is a stage secret, and does not concern the audience.
CHAPTER XXVII
KABUKI RÔLES
They make a strange passing show, like personages from dreamland, the people of Kabuki: a daimyo on a hawking expedition, strolling puppet showmen, monkey performers, blind minstrels, pilgrims and priests, samurai and farmer, swordsmith and robber. Creations of playwright and actor, these warriors and lovers, villains and ghosts form vivid and abiding memories in the minds of the Japanese people.
In the consuming passion for loyalty and self-sacrifice, character was often subordinate, and the heroes and heroines of the plays went to absurd lengths to justify the overwhelming theme. The ethics taught by these rôles differ in many respects from the familiar figures of the Western stage, yet at the same time the depths of human nature are sounded, the same tragedies and comedies that make the whole world kin; the eternal clash of evil and good. In addition, there are the rôles fashioned out of the pure fabric of fancy, showing an unquenchable thirst for beauty, and love for the striking and the strange, grotesque and supernatural, creatures called forth from enchanted gardens of the imagination.
A strict adherence to rôles was brought about in the early stages of Kabuki’s development, and this system persisted. There were first the tateyaku, or hero rôles, characters always championing the right; the katakiyaku, or villain specialty, a necessary rôle where the upright and ignoble were thrown into contrast; oyajigata, or old men’s rôles, and kawashagata, the characters of elderly females. The comedian was called dokegata, while onnagata was the name given to men who played women’s rôles, and koyaku were children.