CHAPTER XVII

COMPETITIVE SHOW OF PICTURES

The introduction of the late Saigû, the daughter of the Lady of

Rokjiô, at Court, was now arranged to take place, with the approval of

the Empress-mother (the Princess Wistaria). All the arrangements and

preparations were made, though not quite openly, under the eye of

Genji, who took a parental interest in her. It may be remembered that

the ex-Emperor was once struck by her charms, on the eve of her

departure for Ise; and though he never encouraged this fancy to become

anything more than an ordinary partiality, he took no small interest

in all that concerned her welfare.

When the day of introduction arrived, he made her several beautiful

presents, such as a comb-box, a dressing-table, and a casket

containing rare perfumes. At her residence all her female attendants,

and some others, assembled, who made every preparation with the utmost

pains.

In the Palace, the Empress-mother was with her Royal son on this day.

He was still a mere boy, and scarcely understood what was going on;

but he was now fully informed on the subject by his mother, and was

told that a very interesting lady was going to reside in the Palace to

attend on him, and that he must be good and kind to her. The

presentation took place late in the evening, and henceforth she was

called the Niogo of the Ume-Tsubo (plum-chamber), from the name of her

apartment.

She was a charming lady, and the Emperor was not without a certain

liking for her; yet Lady Kokiden, the daughter of Gon-Chiûnagon

(Tô-no-Chiûjiô), who had been introduced some time previously, and

consequently was an acquaintance of an older date, was much more

frequently preferred by him to the other for society in daily

amusement. When Gon-Chiûnagon introduced his daughter, he did not of

course do so without hope of her further elevation; but now Lady Plum

came to assume a position through Genji's influence, as if to compete

with his daughter for the royal favor; and it was by no means glad

tidings for him. It may be here mentioned that Prince Hiob-Kio had

also, as we have already seen, an intention of introducing one of his

daughters at Court; but this hope was doomed to disappointment by the

establishing of the two ladies already introduced, and he was induced

to defer his intention, at least for the present.

The Emperor was very fond of pictures, and painted with considerable

ability. Lady Plum, too, as it happened, possessed the same taste as

the Emperor, and used often to amuse herself by painting. If,

therefore, he liked ordinary courtiers who exhibited a taste for

painting, it was no matter of surprise that he liked to see the

delicate hands of the lady occupied in carefully laying on colors.

This similarity of taste gradually drew his attention to her, and led

to frequent visits to the "plum-chamber." When Gon-Chiûnagon was

informed of these circumstances, he took the matter into his own

hands. He himself determined to excite a spirit of rivalry. He

contrived means to counteract the influence of painting, and

commissioned several famous artists of the times to execute some

elaborate pictures. Most of these were subjects taken from old

romances, as he conceived that these were always more attractive than

mere fanciful pictures. He had also caused to be painted a

representation of every month of the year, which would also be likely,

he thought, to interest the Emperor. When these pictures were finished

he took them to Court, and submitted them to his inspection; but he

would not agree that he should take any of them to the plum-chamber;

and they were all deposited in the chamber of his daughter.

Genji, when he heard of this, said of his brother-in-law, "He is

young; he never could be behind others." He was, however, unable to

pass the matter over unnoticed. He told the Emperor that he would

present him with some old pictures, and returning to his mansion at

Nijio he opened his picture cabinet, where numbers of old and new

pictures were kept. From these, with the assistance of Violet, he made

a selection of the best. But such pictures as illustrations of the

"Long Regrets," or representations of "O-shio-kun," were reserved,

because the terminations of these stories were not happy ones. He

also took out of his cabinet the sketches which he had made while in

Suma and Akashi, and showed them for the first time to Violet, who was

a little angry at his not having shown them to her sooner.

It was about the tenth of February, and the face of Nature began to

smile with the approach of spring, making the hearts and tempers of

people more calm and cheerful; besides, it was just the time when the

Court was unoccupied with the keeping of any festival. There could be

no better chance than this for such an exhibition of pictures to

attract the attention of people enjoying leisure. Genji, therefore,

sent his collection of pictures to the Palace in behalf of the lady of

the plum-chamber.

This soon created a sensation in the Palace. Most of the pictures that

were in the possession of the lady of the plum-chamber were from old

romances, and the pictures themselves were of ancient date, being

rare, while those of Kokiden were more modern subjects and by living

artists. Thus each of them had their special merits, so that it became

difficult to say which were more excellent. Talking of these pictures

became quite a fashionable subject of conversation of the courtiers of

the day. The Imperial-mother happened to be at Court, and when she saw

these pictures and heard different persons at Court discussing their

relative merits, she suggested that they should divide themselves into

two parties, right and left, and regularly to give their judgment.

This was accordingly done: Hei-Naishi-no-Ske, Jijiû-no-Naishi, and

Shiôshiô-no-Miôbu took the left, on the side of the lady of the

plum-chamber; while Daini-no-Naishi-no-Ske, Chiûjiô-no-Miôbu, and

Hiôye-no-Miôbu took the right, on the side of the Kokiden.

The first picture selected was the illustration of the "Bamboo

Cutter,"[125] by the left, as it was the most appropriate to come

first for the discussion of its merits, as being the parent of

romance. To compete with this, that of "Toshikagè,"[126] from "The

Empty Wood," was selected by the right. The left now stated their

case, saying, "The bamboo--indeed, its story too--may be an old and

commonly known thing, but the maiden Kakya, in keeping her purity

unsullied in this world, is highly admirable; besides, it was an

occurrence that belongs to a pre-historical period. No ordinary woman

would ever be equal to her, and so this picture has an excellence."

Thereupon the right argued in opposition to this, saying, "The sky,

where the maiden Kakya has gone away, may indeed be high, but it is

beyond human reach, so we may put it aside. When she made her

appearance in this world she was, after all, a creature of bamboo;

and, indeed, we may consider her even lower than ourselves. It may

also be true that she threw a bright radiance over the inside of a

cottage, but she never shone in the august society of a palace.

Abe-no-oshi's[127] spending millions of money in order to get the

so-called fire-proof rat, which, when obtained, was consumed in the

flames in a moment, is simply ridiculous. Prince Kuramochi's[128]

pretended jewel branch was simply a delusion. Besides, this picture is

by Kose-no-Omi, with notes[129] by Tsurayuki. These are not very

uncommon. The paper is Kamiya, only covered with Chinese satin. The

outer cover is reddish purple, and the centre stick is purple

Azedarach. These are very common ornaments. Now Toshikagè, though he

had undergone a severe trial from the raging storm, and had been

carried to a strange country, arrived at length at the country to

which he was originally despatched, and from there returned to his

native land, having achieved his object, and having made his ability

recognized both at home and abroad. This picture is the life of this

man, and it represents many scenes, not only of his country but of

foreign ones, which cannot fail to be interesting. We therefore dare

to place this one above the other in merit."

The ground of this picture was thick white tinted paper, the outer

cover was green, and the centre stick jade. The picture was by

Tsunenori, and the writing by Michikage. It was in the highest taste

of the period.

The left made no more protestation against the right.

Next the romance of Ise by the left, and that of Shiô-Sammi by the

right, were brought into competition. Here again the relative merit

was very difficult to be decided at once. That of the right had

apparently more charms than that of the other, since it beautifully

represented the society of a more recent period.

Hei-Naishi, of the left, therefore said,

"If leaving the depths of Ise's night-sea,

We follow the fancies of new-fashioned dreams,

All the beauty and skill of the ancients will be

Swept away by the current of art's modern streams.

Who would run down the fame of Narihira for the sake of the

pretentious humbug of our own days?"

Then Daini-no-Naishi-no-Ske, of the right, replied,

"The noble mind that soars on high,

Beyond the star-bespangled sky;

Looks down with ease on depths that lie

A thousand fathoms 'neath his eye."[130]

Upon this, the Empress-mother interceded. She said, that "The exalted

nobility of Lord Hiôye[131] may not, indeed, be passed over without

notice, yet the name of Narihira could not altogether be eclipsed by

his.

Though too well-known to all may be

The lovely shore of Ise's sea;

Its aged fisher's honored name,

A tribute of respect may claim."

There were several more rolls to be exhibited, and the rival

protestations on both sides became very warm, so that one roll

occasioned considerable discussion.

While this was going on, Genji arrived on the scene. He suggested to

them that if there was any competition at all it should be decided on

a specially appointed day, in a more solemn manner, in the presence of

the Emperor. This suggestion having been adopted, the discussion came

to an end.

The day for this purpose was fixed. The ex-Emperor, who had been

informed of this, presented several pictures to the lady of the

plum-chamber. They were mostly illustrations of Court Festivals, on

which there were explanatory remarks written by the Emperor Yenghi.

Besides these, there was one which had been expressly executed at his

own order by Kim-mochi. This was an illustration of the ceremony which

took place at his palace on the departure of the lady for Ise, some

time back, when she had gone there as the Saigû. It was also probable

that some of his pictures came into the possession of her rival, the

Lady Kokiden, through his mother (as the mother of the former was a

sister of the latter).

When the day arrived every arrangement was made in the large saloon at

the rear of the Palace, where the Imperial seat was placed at the top.

The Court ladies of both parties--those of the lady of the

plum-chamber, and those of the lady of Kokiden--were arranged

respectively left and right, the left, or those of the lady of the

plum-chamber, facing southwards, and those of the right, northwards.

All the courtiers also took the places allotted to them. Here the

pictures were brought. The box, containing those of the left was of

purple Azedarach. The stand on which the box was placed was of safran,

and over this was thrown a cover of Chinese brocade with a mauve

ground. The seat underneath was of Chinese colored silk. Six young

girls brought all this in, and arranged it all in order. Their Kazami

(outer dress) was of red and cherry color, with tunics of Wistaria

lining (light purple outside, and light green within).

The box which contained the pictures of the right was of "Jin" wood,

the stand of light colored "Jin," the cover of Corean silk with a

green ground. The legs of the stand, which were trellised round with a

silken cord, showed modern and artistic taste. The Kazami of the young

girls was of willow lining (white outside and green within), and their

tunics were of Kerria japonica lining (or yellow outside and light red

within). Both Genji and Gon-Chiûnagon were present, by the Emperor's

special invitation, as also the Prince Lord-Lieutenant of Tzkushi who

loved pictures above all things, and he was consequently chosen umpire

for this day's competition. Many of the pictures were highly

admirable, and it was most difficult to make any preference between

them. For instance, if there was produced by one party a roll of "The

Season," which was the masterpiece of some old master, on selected

subjects; there was produced also, by the other party, a roll of

sketches on paper, which were scarcely inferior to, and more

ornamented with flourishing than the ancient works, in spite of the

necessary limitation of space which generally makes the wide expanse

of scenery almost too difficult to express. Thus the disputes on both

sides were very warm.

Meanwhile the Imperial-mother (the Princess Wistaria) also came into

the saloon, pushing aside the sliding screen of the breakfast chamber.

The criticisms still continued, in which Genji made, now and then,

suggestive remarks. Before all was finished the shades of evening

began to fall on them. There remained, on the right, one more roll,

when the roll of "Suma" was produced on the left. It made

Gon-Chiûnagon slightly embarrassed. The last roll of the right was, of

course, a selected one, but it had several disadvantages in comparison

with that of "Suma." The sketches on this roll had been done by Genji,

with great pains and time. They were illustrations of different bays

and shores. They were most skilfully executed, and carried away the

minds of the spectators to the actual spots. On them illustrative

remarks were written, sometimes in the shape of a diary, occasionally

mingled with poetical effusions in style both grave and easy. These

made a great impression on the Emperor, and on everyone present; and

finally, owing to this roll, the left was decided to have won the

victory.

Then followed the partaking of refreshments, as was usual on such

occasions. In the course of conversation, Genji remarked to the

Lord-Lieutenant, "From my boyhood I paid much attention to reading and

writing, and perhaps my father noticed that I had benefited by these

pursuits. He observed that 'few very clever men enjoyed worldly

happiness and long life'; perhaps because ability and knowledge are

too highly valued in the world to admit of other blessings. True it

is, that even a man whose high birth assures him a certain success in

life, ought not to be devoid of learning, but I advise you to moderate

your exertions. After this time, he took more pains in instructing me

in the ways and manners of men of high position than in the minute

details of science. For these reasons, though on the one hand I was

not quite clumsy, I cannot, on the other, say in what particular

subject I am well versed and efficient. Drawing, however, was a

favorite object of my taste and ambition, and I also desired to

execute a work to the full extent of my ideas. In the meantime, I

enjoyed quiet leisure by the sea-shore, and as I contemplated the wide

expanse of scenery, my conception seemed to enlarge as I gazed upon

it. This made me take up my brush, but not a few parts of the work

have fallen short of those conceptions. Therefore, I thought them

altogether unworthy to be shown expressly, though I have now boldly

submitted them to your inspection on this good opportunity."

"Nothing can be well learned that is not agreeable to one's natural

taste," replied the Lord-Lieutenant. "It is true, but every art has

its special instructor, and by this means their methods can be copied

by their pupils, though there may be differences in skill and

perfection. Among arts, however, nothing betrays one's tastes and

nature more than work of pen or brush (writing and painting), and

playing the game of Go. Of course men of low origin, and of little

accomplishment, often happen to excel in these arts, but not so

frequently as persons of position. Under the auspicious care of the

late Emperor, what prince or princess could have failed to attain the

knowledge of such arts? a care which was directed towards yourself

especially. I will not speak of literature and learning too. Your

accomplishments comprised the _kin_, next the flute, the mandolin, and

_soh-koto_--this we all knew, and so, too, the late Emperor said: your

painting, however, has been hitherto thought to be mere amusement, but

we now have seen your sketches executed with a skill not unequal to

the ancient famous draughtsmen in black ink."

It was about the twentieth of the month, and the evening moon appeared

in the sky, while they were thus conversing. Her radiance was too weak

to make the ground near them bright, but afar-off the sky became

palely white. Several musical instruments were sent for from the

guardian of the library. Genji played a _kin_, Gon-Chiûnagon a

_wagon_, the Lord-Lieutenant a _soh-koto_, and Shiôshiô-no-Miôbu a

mandolin. The _hiôshi_ (beating time to music) was undertaken by a

courtier. As this went on, the darkness of night began to diminish,

and the hues of the flowers in the garden, and the countenance of each

of the party, became gradually visible, while the birds themselves

began to chirp in the trees. It was a pleasant dawn. Several presents

were made to the company by the Imperial-mother, and to the

Lord-Lieutenant a robe was given in addition, as an acknowledgment of

his services as judge in the competition. And so the party broke up.

The roll of "Suma" was left, as was requested, in the hands of the

Imperial-mother. Genji had some more rolls of the same series, but

they were reserved for some future occasion.

During the reign of this Emperor every care was taken on the occasion

of all Court Festivals, so that future generations should hold that

such and such precedents took their origin in this reign. Hence a

meeting even such as above described, which was only private in its

nature, was carried out in a manner as pleasant and enlightened as

possible.

As to Genji, he thought he had obtained a position too exalted, and an

influence too great. There were, indeed, several instances of public

men surprised by misfortune, who, in premature age, obtained high

position and vast influence. He thought of these examples, and though

he had hitherto enjoyed his position and authority, as if he regarded

them as a compensation for his former fall, he began, as the Emperor

was now becoming older, to retire gradually from public life, so as to

prepare his mind and thoughts, and devote himself to the attainment of

happiness in the world to come, and also for the prolongation of life.

For these reasons he ordered a chapel to be built for himself on a

mountain side, where he might retire. In the meantime he had the

ambition to see his children satisfactorily brought out into the

world--an ambition which restrained him from carrying out his wishes

of retiring.

It is not easy to understand or define the exact state of his mind at

this period.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 125: A short romance, supposed to be the oldest work of the

kind ever written in Japan, as the authoress states. The story is,

that once upon a time there was an aged man whose occupation was to

cut bamboo. One day he found a knot in a bamboo cane which was radiant

and shining, and upon cutting it he found in it a little girl who was

named Kakya-hime. He took her home and brought her up. She grew a

remarkable beauty. She had many suitors, but she refused to listen to

their addresses, and kept her maiden reputation unsullied. Finally, in

leaving this world, she ascended into the moon, from which she

professed to have originally come down.]

[Footnote 126: This is another old romance, and Toshikagè is its

principal hero. When twelve or thirteen years of age he was sent to

China, but the ship in which he was, being driven by a hurricane to

Persia, he met there with a mystic stranger, from whom he learned

secrets of the "Kin;" from thence he reached China, and afterwards

returned to Japan.]

[Footnote 127: This man was one of the maiden's suitors. He was told

by her that if he could get for her the skin of the fire-proof rat she

might possibly accept his hand. With this object he gave a vast sum of

money to a Chinese merchant, who brought him what he professed to be

the skin of the fire-proof rat, but when it was put to the test, it

burnt away, and he lost his suit.]

[Footnote 128: This Prince was another suitor of the maiden. His task

was to find a sacred island called Horai, and to get a branch of a

jewelled tree which grew in this island. He pretended to have embarked

for this purpose, but really concealed himself in an obscure place. He

had an artificial branch made by some goldsmith; but, of course, this

deception was at once detected.]

[Footnote 129: Japanese pictures usually have explanatory notes

written on them.]

[Footnote 130: It seems that this stanza alludes to some incident in

the Shiô-Sammi, at the same time praising the picture.]

[Footnote 131: This seems to be the name of the hero in the story

alluded to above.]

* * * * *

CLASSICAL POETRY OF JAPAN

[_Selections translated by Basil Hall Chamberlain_]

INTRODUCTION

The poetry of a nation is always the best revealer of its genuine

life: the range of its spiritual as well as of its intellectual

outlook. This is the case even where poetry is imitative, for

imitation only pertains to the form of poetry, and not to its essence.

Vergil copied the metre and borrowed the phraseology of Homer, but is

never Homeric. In one sense, all national poetry is original, even

though it be shackled by rules of traditional prosody, and has adopted

the system of rhyme devised by writers in another language, whose

words seem naturally to bourgeon into assonant terminations. But

Japanese poetry is original in every sense of the term. Imitative as

the Japanese are, and borrowers from other nations in every department

of plastic, fictile, and pictorial art, as well as in religion,

politics, and manufactures, the poetry of Japan is a true-born flower

of the soil, unique in its mechanical structure, spontaneous and

unaffected in its sentiment and subject.

The present collection of Japanese poetry is compiled and translated

into English from what the Japanese call "The Collection of Myriad

Leaves," and from a number of other anthologies made by imperial

decree year by year from the tenth until the fifteenth century. This

was the golden age of Japanese literature, and nowadays, when poetry

is dead in Japan, and the people and their rulers are aiming at

nothing but the benefits of material civilization, these ancient

anthologies are drawn upon for vamping up and compiling what pass for

the current verses of the hour. The twenty volumes of the "Myriad

Leaves" were probably published first in the latter half of the eighth

century, in the reign of the Mikado Shiyaumu; the editor was Prince

Moroye, for in those days the cultivation of verse was especially

considered the privilege of the princely and aristocratic. A poem

written by a man of obscure rank was sometimes included in the royal

collections, but the name of the author never. And indeed some of the

distinctive quality of Japanese poetry is undoubtedly due to the air

in which it flourished. It is never religious, and it is often

immoral, but it is always suffused with a certain hue of courtliness,

even gentleness. The language is of the most refined delicacy, the

thought is never boorish or rude; there is the self-collectedness

which we find in the poetry of France and Italy during the

Renaissance, and in England during the reign of Queen Anne. It

exhibits the most exquisite polish, allied with an avoidance of every

shocking or perturbing theme. It seems to combine the enduring lustre

of a precious metal with the tenuity of gold-leaf. Even the most vivid

emotions of grief and love, as well as the horrors of war, were

banished from the Japanese Parnassus, where the Muse of Tragedy

warbles, and the lyric Muse utters nothing but ditties of exquisite

and melting sweetness, which soothe the ear, but never stir the heart:

while their meaning is often so obscure as even to elude the

understanding.

Allied to this polite reserve of the courtly poets of Japan is the

simplicity of their style, which is, doubtless, in a large measure,

due to the meagre range of spiritual faculties which characterize the

Japanese mind. This intellectual poverty manifests itself in the

absence of all personification and reference to abstract ideas. The

narrow world of the poet is here a concrete and literal sphere of

experience. He never rises on wings above the earth his feet are

treading, and the things around him that his fingers touch. But within

this limited area he revels in a great variety of subjects. In the

present anthology will be found ballads, love-songs, elegies, as well

as short stanzas composed with the strictest economy of word and

phrase. These we must characterize as epigrams. They are gems,

polished with almost passionless nicety and fastidious care. They

remind us very much of Roman poetry under the later Empire, and many

of them might have been written by Martial, at the court of Domitian.

They contain references to court doings, compliments, and sentiments

couched in pointed language. The drama of Japan is represented by two

types, one of which may be called lyrical, and the other the comedy of

real life. Specimens of both are found in the present collection,

which will furnish English readers with a very fair idea of what the

most interesting and enterprising of Oriental nations has done in the

domain of imaginative literature.

E. W.

BALLADS

THE FISHER-BOY URASHIMA

'Tis spring, and the mists come stealing

O'er Suminóye's shore,

And I stand by the seaside musing

On the days that are no more.

I muse on the old-world story,

As the boats glide to and fro,

Of the fisher-boy, Urashima,

Who a-fishing loved to go;

How he came not back to the village

Though sev'n suns had risen and set,

But rowed on past the bounds of ocean,

And the sea-god's daughter met;

How they pledged their faith to each other,

And came to the Evergreen Land,

And entered the sea-god's palace

So lovingly hand in hand,

To dwell for aye in that country,

The ocean-maiden and he--

The country where youth and beauty

Abide eternally.

But the foolish boy said, "To-morrow

I'll come back with thee to dwell;

But I have a word to my father,

A word to my mother to tell."

The maiden answered, "A casket

I give into thine hand;

And if that thou hopest truly

To come back to the Evergreen Land,

"Then open it not, I charge thee!

Open it not, I beseech!"

So the boy rowed home o'er the billows

To Suminóye's beach.

But where is his native hamlet?

Strange hamlets line the strand.

Where is his mother's cottage?

Strange cots rise on either hand.

"What, in three short years since I left it,"

He cries in his wonder sore,

"Has the home of my childhood vanished?

Is the bamboo fence no more?

"Perchance if I open the casket

Which the maiden gave to me,

My home and the dear old village

Will come back as they used to be."

And he lifts the lid, and there rises

A fleecy, silvery cloud,

That floats off to the Evergreen Country:--

And the fisher-boy cries aloud;

He waves the sleeve of his tunic,

He rolls over on the ground,

He dances with fury and horror,

Running wildly round and round.[132]

But a sudden chill comes o'er him

That bleaches his raven hair,

And furrows with hoary wrinkles

The form erst so young and fair.

His breath grows fainter and fainter,

Till at last he sinks dead on the shore;

And I gaze on the spot where his cottage

Once stood, but now stands no more.

_Anon_.

ON SEEING A DEAD BODY

Methinks from the hedge round the garden

His bride the fair hemp hath ta'en,

And woven the fleecy raiment

That ne'er he threw off him again.

For toilsome the journey he journeyed

To serve his liege and lord,[133]

Till the single belt that encircled him

Was changed to a thrice-wound cord;

And now, methinks, he was faring

Back home to the country-side,

With thoughts all full of his father,

Of his mother, and of his bride.

But here 'mid the eastern mountains,

Where the awful pass climbs their brow,

He halts on his onward journey

And builds him a dwelling low;

And here he lies stark in his garments,

Dishevelled his raven hair,

And ne'er can he tell me his birthplace,

Nor the name that he erst did bear.

_Sakimaro_.

THE MAIDEN OF UNÁHI[134]

In Ashinóya village dwelt

The Maiden of Unáhi,

On whose beauty the next-door neighbors e'en

Might cast no wandering eye;

For they locked her up as a child of eight,

When her hair hung loosely still;

And now her tresses were gathered up,

To float no more at will.[135]

And the men all yearned that her sweet face

Might once more stand reveal'd,

Who was hid from gaze, as in silken maze

The chrysalis lies concealed.

And they formed a hedge round the house,

And, "I'll wed her!" they all did cry;

And the Champion of Chinu he was there,

And the Champion of Unáhi.

With jealous love these champions twain

The beauteous girl did woo,

Each had his hand on the hilt of his sword,

And a full-charged quiver, too,

Was slung o'er the back of each champion fierce,

And a bow of snow-white wood

Did rest in the sinewy hand of each;

And the twain defiant stood.

Crying, "An 'twere for her dear sake,

Nor fire nor flood I'd fear!"

The maiden heard each daring word,

But spoke in her mother's ear:--

"Alas! that I, poor country girl,

Should cause this jealous strife!

As I may not wed the man I love

What profits me my life?

"In Hades' realm I will await

The issue of the fray."

These secret thoughts, with many a sigh,

She whisper'd and pass'd away.

To the Champion of Chinu in a dream

Her face that night was shown;

So he followed the maid to Hades' shade,

And his rival was left alone;

Left alone--too late! too late!

He gapes at the vacant air,

He shouts, and he yells, and gnashes his teeth,

And dances in wild despair.

"But no! I'll not yield!" he fiercely cries,

"I'm as good a man as he!"

And girding his poniard, he follows after,

To search out his enemy.

The kinsmen then, on either side,

In solemn conclave met,

As a token forever and evermore--

Some monument for to set,

That the story might pass from mouth to mouth,

While heav'n and earth shall stand;

So they laid the maiden in the midst,

And the champions on either hand.

And I, when I hear the mournful tale,

I melt into bitter tears,

As though these lovers I never saw

Had been mine own compeers.

_Mushimaro_.

THE GRAVE OF THE MAIDEN OF UNÁHI

I stand by the grave where they buried

The Maiden of Unáhi,

Whom of old the rival champions

Did woo so jealously.

The grave should hand down through ages

Her story for evermore,

That men yet unborn might love her,

And think on the days of yore.

And so beside the causeway

They piled up the bowlders high;

Nor e'er till the clouds that o'ershadow us

Shall vanish from the sky,

May the pilgrim along the causeway

Forget to turn aside,

And mourn o'er the grave of the Maiden;

And the village folk, beside,

Ne'er cease from their bitter weeping,

But cluster around her tomb;

And the ages repeat her story,

And bewail the Maiden's doom.

Till at last e'en I stand gazing

On the grave where she now lies low,

And muse with unspeakable sadness

On the old days long ago.

_Sakimaro_.

[Note.--The existence of the Maiden of Unáhi is not doubted by any of

the native authorities, and, as usual, the tomb is there (or said to

be there, for the present writer's search for it on the occasion of a

somewhat hurried visit to that part of the country was vain) to attest

the truth of the tradition. Ashinóya is the name of the village, and

Unáhi of the district. The locality is in the province of Setsutsu,

between the present treaty ports of Kobe and Osaka.]

THE MAIDEN OF KATSUSHIKA

Where in the far-off eastern land

The cock first crows at dawn,

The people still hand down a tale

Of days long dead and gone.

They tell of Katsushika's maid,

Whose sash of country blue

Bound but a frock of home-spun hemp,

And kirtle coarse to view;

Whose feet no shoe had e'er confined,

Nor comb passed through her hair;

Yet all the queens in damask robes

Might nevermore compare.

With this dear child, who smiling stood,

A flow'ret of the spring--

In beauty perfect and complete,

Like to the moon's full ring.

And, as the summer moths that fly

Towards the flame so bright,

Or as the boats that deck the port

When fall the shades of night,

So came the suitors; but she said:--

"Why take me for your wife?

Full well I know my humble lot,

I know how short my life."[136]

So where the dashing billows beat

On the loud-sounding shore,

Hath Katsushika's tender maid

Her home for evermore.

Yes! 'tis a tale of days long past;

But, listening to the lay,

It seems as I had gazed upon

Her face but yesterday.

_Anon_.

THE BEGGAR'S COMPLAINT[137]

The heaven and earth they call so great,

For me are mickle small;

The sun and moon they call so bright,

For me ne'er shine at all.

Are all men sad, or only I?

And what have I obtained--

What good the gift of mortal life,

That prize so rarely gained,[138]

If nought my chilly back protects

But one thin grass-cloth coat,

In tatters hanging like the weeds

That on the billows float--

If here in smoke-stained, darksome hut,

Upon the bare cold ground,

I make my wretched bed of straw,

And hear the mournful sound--

Hear how mine aged parents groan,

And wife and children cry,

Father and mother, children, wife,

Huddling in misery--

If in the rice-pan, nigh forgot,

The spider hangs its nest,[139]

And from the hearth no smoke goes up

Where all is so unblest?

And now, to make our wail more deep,

That saying is proved true

Of "snipping what was short before":--

Here comes to claim his due,

The village provost, stick in hand

He's shouting at the door;--

And can such pain and grief be all

Existence has in store?

_Stanza_

Shame and despair are mine from day to day;

But, being no bird, I cannot fly away.

_Anon._

A SOLDIER'S REGRETS ON LEAVING HOME

When _I left_ to keep guard on the frontier

(For such was the monarch's decree),

My mother, with skirt uplifted,[140]

Drew near and fondled me;

And my father, the hot tears streaming

His snow-white beard adown,

Besought me to tarry, crying:--

"Alas! when thou art gone,

"When thou leavest our gate in the morning,

No other sons have I,

And mine eyes will long to behold thee

As the weary years roll by;

"So tarry but one day longer,

And let me find some relief

In speaking and hearing thee speak to me!"

So wail'd the old man in his grief.

And on either side came pressing

My wife and my children dear,

Fluttering like birds, and with garments

Besprinkled with many a tear;

And clasped my hands and would stay me,

For 'twas so hard to part;

But mine awe of the sovereign edict

Constrained my loving heart.

I went; yet each time the pathway

O'er a pass through the mountains did wind,

I'd turn me round--ah! so lovingly!--

And ten thousand times gaze behind.

But farther still, and still farther,

Past many a land I did roam,

And my thoughts were all thoughts of sadness,

All loving, sad thoughts of home;--

Till I came to the shores of Sumi,

Where the sovereign gods I prayed,

With off'rings so humbly offered--

And this the prayer that I made:--

"Being mortal, I know not how many

The days of my life may be;

And how the perilous pathway

That leads o'er the plain of the sea,

"Past unknown islands will bear me:--

But grant that while I am gone

No hurt may touch father or mother,

Or the wife now left alone!"

Yes, such was my prayer to the sea-gods;

And now the unnumbered oars,

And the ship and the seamen to bear me

From breezy Naníha's shores,

Are there at the mouth of the river:--

Oh! tell the dear ones at home,

That I'm off as the day is breaking

To row o'er the ocean foam.

_Anon._

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 132: Such frantic demonstrations of grief are very

frequently mentioned in the early poetry, and sound strangely to those

who are accustomed to the more than English reserve of the modern

Japanese. Possibly, as in Europe, so in Japan, there may have been a

real change of character in this respect.]

[Footnote 133: The Mikado is meant. The feudal system did not grow up

till many centuries later.]

[Footnote 134: The N-á-h-i are sounded like our English word nigh, and

therefore form but one syllable to the ear.]

[Footnote 135: Anciently (and this custom is still followed in some

parts of Japan) the hair of female children was cut short at the neck

and allowed to hang down loosely till the age of eight. At twelve or

thirteen the hair was generally bound up, though this ceremony was

often frequently postponed till marriage. At the present day, the

methods of doing the hair of female children, of grown-up girls, and

of married women vary considerably.]

[Footnote 136: The original of this stanza is obscure, and the native

commentators have no satisfactory interpretation to offer.]

[Footnote 137: In the original the title is "The Beggar's Dialogue,"

there being two poems, of which that here translated is the second.

The first one, which is put into the mouth of an unmarried beggar, who

takes a cheerier view of poverty, is not so well fitted for

translation into English.]

[Footnote 138: Because, according to the Buddhist doctrine of

perpetually recurring births, it is at any given time more probable

that the individual will come into the world in the shape of one of

the lower animals.]

[Footnote 139: A literal translation of the Japanese idiom.]

[Footnote 140: The Japanese commentators are puzzled over the meaning

of the passage "with skirt uplifted, drew near and fondled me." To the

European mind there seems to be nothing obscure in it. The mother

probably lifted her skirt to wipe her eyes, when she was crying. It is

evidently a figurative way of saying that the mother was crying.]

LOVE SONGS

ON BEHOLDING THE MOUNTAIN

_Composed by the commander of the forces of the Mikado Zhiyomei_

The long spring day is o'er, and dark despond

My heart invades, and lets the tears flow down,

As all alone I stand, when from beyond

The mount our heav'n-sent monarch's throne doth crown.

There breathes the twilight wind and turns my sleeve.

Ah, gentle breeze! to turn, home to return,

Is all my prayer; I cannot cease to grieve

On this long toilsome road; I burn, I burn!

Yes! the poor heart I used to think so brave

Is all afire, though none the flame may see,

Like to the salt-kilns there by Tsunu's wave,

Where toil the fisher-maidens wearily.

_Anon_.

LOVE IS PAIN

'Twas said of old, and still the ages say,

"The lover's path is full of doubt and woe."

Of me they spake: I know not, nor can know,

If she I sigh for will my love repay.

My heart sinks on my breast; with bitter strife

My heart is torn, and grief she cannot see.

All unavailing is this agony

To help the love that has become my life.

_Anon_.

HITOMARO TO HIS MISTRESS

Tsunu's shore, Ihámi's brine,

To all other eyes but mine

Seem, perchance, a lifeless mere,

And sands that ne'er the sailor cheer.

Ah, well-a-day! no ports we boast,

And dead the sea that bathes our coast;

But yet I trow the wingèd breeze

Sweeping at morn across our seas,

And the waves at eventide

From the depths of ocean wide,

Onward to Watadzu bear

The deep-green seaweed, rich and fair;

And like that seaweed gently swaying,

Wingèd breeze and waves obeying,

So thy heart hath swayed and bent

And crowned my love with thy content.

But, dear heart! I must away,

As fades the dew when shines the day;

Nor aught my backward looks avail,

Myriad times cast down the vale,

From each turn the winding road

Takes upward; for thy dear abode

Farther and still farther lies,

And hills on hills between us rise.

Ah! bend ye down, ye cruel peaks,

That the gate my fancy seeks,

Where sits my pensive love alone,

To mine eyes again be shown!

_Hitomaro._

NO TIDINGS

The year has come, the year has gone again,

And still no tidings of mine absent love!

Through the long days of spring all heaven above

And earth beneath, re-echo with my pain.

In dark cocoon my mother's silk-worms dwell;

Like them, a captive, through the livelong day

Alone I sit and sigh my soul away,

For ne'er to any I my love may tell.

Like to the pine-trees I must stand and pine,[141]

While downward slanting fall the shades of night,

Till my long sleeve of purest snowy white,

With showers of tears, is steeped in bitter brine.

_Anon._

HOMEWARD

From Kaminábi's crest

The clouds descending pour in sheeted rain,

And, 'midst the gloom, the wind sighs o'er the plain:--

Oh! he that sadly press'd,

Leaving my loving side, alone to roam

Magami's des'late moor, has he reached home?

_Anon._

THE MAIDEN AND THE DOG

As the bold huntsman on some mountain path

Waits for the stag he hopes may pass that way,

So wait I for my love both night and day:--

Then bark not at him, as thou fearest my wrath.

_Anon_.

LOVE IS ALL

Where in spring the sweetest flowers

Fill Mount Kaminábi's bowers,

Where in autumn dyed with red,

Each ancient maple rears its head,

And Aska's flood, with sedges lin'd,

As a belt the mound doth bind:--

There see my heart--a reed that sways,

Nor aught but love's swift stream obeys,

And now, if like the dew, dear maid,

Life must fade, then let it fade:--

My secret love is not in vain,

For thou lov'st me back again.

HUSBAND AND WIFE

WIFE.--

Though other women's husbands ride

Along the road in proud array,

My husband, up the rough hill-side,

On foot must wend his weary way.

The grievous sight with bitter pain

My bosom fills, and many a tear

Steals down my cheek, and I would fain

Do aught to help my husband dear.

Come! take the mirror and the veil,

My mother's parting gifts to me;

In barter they must sure avail

To buy an horse to carry thee!

HUSBAND.--

And I should purchase me an horse,

Must not my wife still sadly walk?

No, no! though stony is our course,

We'll trudge along and sweetly talk.

_Anon._

HE COMES NOT

He comes not! 'tis in vain I wait;

The crane's wild cry strikes on mine ear,

The tempest howls, the hour is late,

Dark is the raven night and drear:--

And, as I thus stand sighing,

The snowflakes round me flying

Light on my sleeve, and freeze it crisp and clear.

Sure 'tis too late! he cannot come;

Yet trust I still that we may meet,

As sailors gayly rowing home

Trust in their ship so safe and fleet.

Though waking hours conceal him,

Oh! may my dreams reveal him,

Filling the long, long night with converse sweet!

_Anon_.

HE AND SHE

HE.--To Hatsúse's vale I'm come,

To woo thee, darling, in thy home;

But the rain rains down apace,

And the snow veils ev'ry place,

And now the pheasant 'gins to cry,

And the cock crows to the sky:--

Now flees the night, the night hath fled,

Let me in to share thy bed!

SHE.--To Hatsúse's vale thou'rt come,

To woo me, darling, in my home:--

But my mother sleeps hard by,

And my father near doth lie;

Should I but rise, I'll wake her ear;

Should I go out, then he will hear:--

The night hath fled! it may not be,

For our love's a mystery!

_Anon._

THE PEARLS

Oh! he my prince, that left my side

O'er the twain Lover Hills[142] to roam,

Saying that in far Kíshiu's tide

He'd hunt for pearls to bring them home.

When will he come? With trembling hope

I hie me on the busy street,

To ask the evening horoscope,

That straightway thus gives answer meet--

The lover dear, my pretty girl,

For whom thou waitest, comes not yet,

Because he's seeking ev'ry pearl

Where out at sea the billows fret.

"He comes not yet, my pretty girl!

Because among the riplets clear

He's seeking, finding ev'ry pearl;

'Tis that delays thy lover dear.

"Two days at least must come and go,

Sev'n days at most will bring him back;

'Twas he himself that told me so:--

Then cease, fair maid, to cry Alack!"

_Anon._

A DAMSEL CROSSING A BRIDGE

Across the bridge, with scarlet lacquer glowing,

That o'er the Katashiha's stream is laid,

All trippingly a tender girl is going,

In bodice blue and crimson skirt arrayed.

None to escort her: would that I were knowing

Whether alone she sleeps on virgin bed,

Or if some spouse has won her by his wooing:--

Tell me her house! I'll ask the pretty maid!

_Anon_.

SECRET LOVE

If as my spirit yearns for thine

Thine yearns for mine, why thus delay?

And yet, what answer might be mine

If, pausing on her way,

Some gossip bade me tell

Whence the deep sighs that from my bosom swell?

And thy dear name my lips should pass,

My blushes would our love declare;

No, no! I'll say my longing was

To see the moon appear

O'er yonder darkling hill;

Yet 'tis on thee mine eyes would gaze their fill.

_Anon_.

THE OMEN[143]

Yes! 'twas the hour when all my hopes

Seemed idle as the dews that shake

And tremble in their lotus-cups

By deep Tsurúgi's lake--

'Twas then the omen said:--

"Fear not! he'll come his own dear love to wed."

What though my mother bids me flee

Thy fond embrace? No heed I take;

As pure, as deep my love for thee

As Kiyosúmi's lake.

One thought fills all my heart:--

When wilt thou come no more again to part?

_Anon_.

A MAIDEN'S LAMENT

Full oft he swore, with accents true and tender,

"Though years roll by, my love shall ne'er wax old!"

And so to him my heart I did surrender,

Clear as a mirror of pure burnished gold;

And from that day, unlike the seaweed bending

To ev'ry wave raised by the summer gust,

Firm stood my heart, on him alone depending,

As the bold seaman in his ship doth trust.

Is it some cruel god that hath bereft me?

Or hath some mortal stol'n away his heart?

No word, no letter since the day he left me,

Nor more he cometh, ne'er again to part!

In vain I weep, in helpless, hopeless sorrow,

From earliest morn until the close of day;

In vain, till radiant dawn brings back the morrow,

I sigh the weary, weary nights away.

No need to tell how young I am and slender--

A little maid that in thy palm could lie:--

Still for some message comforting and tender,

I pace the room in sad expectancy.

_The Lady Sakanouhe_.

RAIN AND SNOW

Forever on Mikáne's crest,

That soars so far away,

The rain it rains in ceaseless sheets,

The snow it snows all day.

And ceaseless as the rain and snow

That fall from heaven above,

So ceaselessly, since first we met,

I love my darling love.

_Anon_.

MOUNT MIKASH

Oft in the misty spring

The vapors roll o'er Mount Mikash's crest,

While, pausing not to rest,

The birds each morn with plaintive note do sing.

Like to the mists of spring

My heart is rent; for, like the song of birds,

Still all unanswered ring

The tender accents of my passionate words.

I call her ev'ry day

Till daylight fades away;

I call her ev'ry night

Till dawn restores the light;--

But my fond prayers are all too weak to bring

My darling back to sight.

_Akahito._

EVENING

From the loud wave-washed shore

Wend I my way,

Hast'ning o'er many a flow'r,

At close of day--

On past Kusaka's crest,

Onward to thee,

Sweet as the loveliest

Flower of the lea!

_Anon._

[Note.--A note to the original says: "The name of the composer of the

above song was not given because he was of obscure rank," a reason

which will sound strange to European ears.]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 141: The play in the original is on the word Matsu, which

has the double signification of "a pine-tree" and "to wait."]

[Footnote 142: Mount Lover and Mount Lady-love (Se-yama and Imo-yama)

in the province of Yamato.]

[Footnote 143: The reference in this song is to an old superstition.

It used to be supposed that the chance words caught from the mouths of

passers-by would solve any doubt on questions to which it might

otherwise be impossible to obtain an answer. This was called the

yufu-ura, or "evening divination," on account of its being practised

in the evening. It has been found impossible in this instance to

follow the original very closely.]

ELEGIES

ON THE DEATH OF THE MIKADO TENJI[144]

_By One of His Ladies_

Alas! poor mortal maid! unfit to hold

High converse with the glorious gods above,[145]

Each morn that breaks still finds me unconsoled,

Each hour still hears me sighing for thy love.

Wert thou a precious stone, I'd clasp thee tight

Around mine arm; wert thou a silken dress

I'd ne'er discard thee, either day or night:--

Last night, sweet love! I dreamt I saw thy face.

ON THE DEATH OF THE POET'S MISTRESS

How fondly did I yearn to gaze

(For was there not the dear abode

Of her whose love lit up my days?)

On Karu's often-trodden road.

But should I wander in and out,

Morning and evening ceaselessly,

Our loves were quickly noised about,

For eyes enough there were to see.

So, trusting that as tendrils part

To meet again, so we might meet,

As in deep rocky gorge my heart,

Unseen, unknown, in secret beat.

But like the sun at close of day,

And as behind a cloud the moon,

So passed my gentle love away,

An autumn leaf ta'en all too soon.

When came the fatal messenger,

I knew not what to say or do:--

But who might sit and simply hear?

Rather, methought, of all my woe.

Haply one thousandth part might find

Relief if my due feet once more,

Where she so often trod, should wind

Through Karu's streets and past her door.

But mute that noise, nor all the crowd

Could show her like, or soothe my care;

So, calling her dear name aloud,

I waved my sleeve in blank despair.

_Hitomaro_.

ELEGY ON THE POET'S WIFE

The gulls that twitter on the rush-grown shore

When fall the shades of night,

That o'er the waves in loving pairs do soar

When shines the morning light--

'Tis said e'en these poor birds delight

To nestle each beneath his darling's wing

That, gently fluttering,

Through the dark hours wards off the hoar-frost's might.

Like to the stream that finds

The downward path it never may retrace,

Like to the shapeless winds,

Poor mortals pass away without a trace:--

So she I love has left her place,

And, in a corner of my widowed couch,

Wrapped in the robe she wove me,

I must crouch,

Far from her fond embrace.

_Nibi_.

ON THE DEATH OF PRINCE HINAMI

I

When began the earth and heaven,

By the banks of heaven's river[146]

All the mighty gods assembled,

All the mighty gods in council.

And, for that her sov'reign grandeur

The great goddess of the day-star

Rul'd th' ethereal realms of heaven,

Downward through the many-piled

Welkin did they waft her grandson,

Bidding him, till earth and heaven,

Waxing old, should fall together,

O'er the middle land of reed-plains,

O'er the land of waving rice-fields,

Spread abroad his power imperial.

II

But not his Kiyomi's palace:--

'Tis his sov'reign's, hers the empire;

And the sun's divine descendant,

Ever soaring, passeth upward

Through the heav'n's high rocky portals.

III

Why, dear prince, oh! why desert us?

Did not all beneath the heaven,

All that dwell in earth's four quarters,

Pant, with eye and heart uplifted,

As for heav'n-sent rain in summer,

For thy rule of flow'ry fragrance,

For thy plenilune of empire?

Now on lone Mayúmi's hillock,

Firm on everlasting columns,

Pilest thou a lofty palace,

Whence no more, when day is breaking,

Sound thine edicts, awe-compelling.

Day to day is swiftly gathered,

Moon to moon, till e'er thy faithful

Servants from thy palace vanish.

_Hitomaro_.

ON THE DEATH OF THE NUN RIGUWAÑ

Ofttimes in far Corea didst thou hear

Of our Cipango as a goodly land;

And so, to parents and to brethren dear

Bidding adieu, thou sailed'st to the strand

Of these domains, that own th' imperial pow'r,

Where glittering palaces unnumbered rise;

Yet such might please thee not, nor many a bow'r

Where village homesteads greet the pilgrim's eyes:--

But in this spot, at Sahoyáma's base,

Some secret influence bade thee find thy rest--

Bade seek us out with loving eagerness,

As seeks the weeping infant for the breast.

And here with aliens thou didst choose to dwell,

Year in, year out, in deepest sympathy;

And here thou buildest thee an holy cell;

And so the peaceful years went gliding by.

But ah! what living thing mote yet avoid

Death's dreary summons?--And thine hour did sound

When all the friends on whom thine heart relied

Slept on strange pillows on the mossy ground.

So, while the moon lit up Kasuga's crest,

O'er Sahogáha's flood thy corse they bore

To fill a tomb upon yon mountain's breast,

And dwell in darkness drear for evermore.

No words, alas! nor efforts can avail:--

Nought can I do, poor solitary child!

Nought can I do but make my bitter wail,

And pace the room with cries and gestures wild,

Ceaselessly weeping, till my snowy sleeve

Is wet with tears. Who knows? Perchance, again

Wafted, they're borne upon the sighs I heave,

On 'Arima's far distant heights to rain.

_Sakanouhe_.

ON THE POET'S SON FURUBI

Sev'n are the treasures mortals most do prize,

But I regard them not:--

One only jewel could delight mine eyes--

The child that I begot.

My darling boy, who with the morning sun

Began his joyous day;

Nor ever left me, but with child-like fun

Would make me help him play;

Who'd take my hand when eve its shadows spread,

Saying, "I'm sleepy grown;

'Twixt thee and mother I would lay my head:--

Oh! leave me not alone!"

Then with his pretty prattle in mine ears,

I'd lie awake and scan

The good and evil of the coming years,

And see the child a man.

And, as the seaman trusts his bark, I'd trust

That nought could harm the boy:--

Alas! I wist not that the whirling gust

Would shipwreck all my joy!

Then with despairing, helpless hands I grasp'd

The sacred mirror's[147] sphere;

And round my shoulder I my garments clasp'd,

And prayed with many a tear:--

"'Tis yours, great gods, that dwell in heav'n on high,

Great gods of earth! 'tis yours

To heed, or heed not, a poor father's cry,

Who worships and implores!"

Alas! vain pray'rs, that more no more avail!

He languished day by day,

Till e'en his infant speech began to fail,

And life soon ebbed away.

Stagg'ring with grief I strike my sobbing breast,

And wildly dance and groan:--

Ah! such is life! the child that I caress'd

Far from mine arms hath flown.

SHORT STANZA ON THE SAME OCCASION

So young, so young! he cannot know the way:--

On Hades' porter I'll a bribe bestow,

That on his shoulders the dear infant may

Be safely carried to the realms below.

_Attributed to Okura._

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 144: Died A.D. 671.]

[Footnote 145: Viz., with the departed and deified Mikado.]

[Footnote 146: The Milky Way.]

[Footnote 147: The part played by the mirror in the devotions of the

Japanese is carried back by them to a tale in their mythology which

relates the disappearance into a cavern of the Sun-goddess Amaterasu,

and the manner in which she was enticed forth by being led to believe

that her reflection in a mirror that was shown to her was another

deity more lovely than herself.]

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS

VIEW FROM MOUNT KAGO

_Composed by the Mikado Zhiyomei_

Countless are the mountain-chains

Tow'ring o'er Cipango's plains;

But fairest is Mount Kago's peak,

Whose heav'nward soaring heights I seek,

And gaze on all my realms beneath--

Gaze on the land where vapors wreath

O'er many a cot; gaze on the sea,

Where cry the sea-gulls merrily.

Yes! 'tis a very pleasant land,

Fill'd with joys on either hand,

Sweeter than aught beneath the sky,

Dear islands of the dragon-fly![148]

THE MIKADO'S BOW[149]

When the dawn is shining,

He takes it up and fondles it with pride;

When the day's declining,

He lays it by his pillow's side.

Hark to the twanging of the string!

This is the Bow of our great Lord and King!

Now to the morning chase they ride,

Now to the chase again at eventide:

Hark to the twanging of the string!

This is the Bow of our great Lord and King!

_Hashibito_.

SPRING AND AUTUMN

When winter turns to spring,

Birds that were songless make their songs resound,

Flow'rs that were flow'rless cover all the ground;

Yet 'tis no perfect thing:--

I cannot walk, so tangled is each hill;

So thick the herbs I cannot pluck my fill.

But in the autumn-tide

I cull the scarlet leaves and love them dear,

And let the green leaves stay, with many a tear,

All on the fair hill-side:--

No time so sweet as that. Away! Away!

Autumn's the time I fain would keep alway.

_Ohogimi._

SPRING

When winter turns to spring,

The dews of morn in pearly radiance lie,

The mists of eve rise circling to the sky,

And Kaminábi's thickets ring

With the sweet notes the nightingale doth sing.

_Anon._

RECOLLECTIONS OF MY CHILDREN

Ne'er a melon can I eat,

But calls to mind my children dear;

Ne'er a chestnut crisp and sweet,

But makes the lov'd ones seem more near.

Whence did they come, my life to cheer?

Before mine eyes they seem to sweep,

So that I may not even sleep.

What use to me the gold and silver hoard?

What use to me the gems most rich and rare?

Brighter by far--aye! bright beyond compare--

The joys my children to my heart afford!

_Yamagami-no Okura._

THE BROOK OF HATSÚSE

Pure is Hatsúse mountain-brook--

So pure it mirrors all the clouds of heaven;

Yet here no fishermen for shelter look

When sailing home at even:--

'Tis that there are no sandy reaches,

Nor sheltering beaches,

Where the frail craft might find some shelt'ring nook.

Ah, well-a-day! we have no sandy reaches:--

But heed that not;

Nor shelving beaches:--

But heed that not!

Come a-jostling and a-hustling

O'er our billows gayly bustling:--

Come, all ye boats, and anchor in this spot!

_Anon._

LINES TO A FRIEND

Japan is not a land where men need pray,

For 'tis itself divine:--

Yet do I lift my voice in prayer and say:--

"May ev'ry joy be thine!

And may I too, if thou those joys attain,

Live on to see thee blest!"

Such the fond prayer, that, like the restless main,

Will rise within my breast.

_Hitomaro._

A VERY ANCIENT ODE

Mountains and ocean-waves

Around me lie;

Forever the mountain-chains

Tower to the sky;

Fixed is the ocean

Immutably:--

Man is a thing of nought,

Born but to die!

_Anon._

THE BRIDGE TO HEAVEN[150]

Oh! that that ancient bridge,

Hanging 'twixt heaven and earth, were longer still!

Oh! that yon tow'ring mountain-ridge

So boldly tow'ring, tow'red more boldly still!

Then from the moon on high

I'd fetch some drops of the life-giving stream--

A gift that might beseem

Our Lord, the King, to make him live for aye!

_Anon._

ODE TO THE CUCKOO

Nightingales built the nest

Where, as a lonely guest,

First thy young head did rest,

Cuckoo, so dear!

Strange to the father-bird,

Strange to the mother-bird,

Sounded the note they heard,

Tender and clear.

Fleeing thy native bow'rs,

Bright with the silv'ry flow'rs,

Oft in the summer hours

Hither thou fliest;

Light'st on some orange tall,

Scatt'ring the blossoms all,

And, while around they fall,

Ceaselessly criest.

Through, through the livelong day

Soundeth thy roundelay,

Never its accents may

Pall on mine ear:--

Come, take a bribe of me!

Ne'er to far regions flee;

Dwell on mine orange-tree,

Cuckoo, so dear!

_Anon._

THE ASCENT OF MOUNT TSUKÚBA

When my lord, who fain would look on

Great Tsukúba, double-crested,

To the highlands of Hitachi

Bent his steps, then I, his servant,

Panting with the heats of summer,

Down my brow the sweat-drops dripping,

Breathlessly toil'd onward, upward,

Tangled roots of timber clutching.

"There, my lord! behold the prospect!"

Cried I, when we scaled the summit.

And the gracious goddess gave us

Smiling welcome, while her consort

Condescended to admit us

Into these, his sacred precincts,

O'er Tsukúba, double-crested,

Where the clouds do have their dwelling.

And the rain forever raineth,

Shedding his divine refulgence,

And revealing to our vision

Ev'ry landmark that in darkness

And in shapeless gloom was shrouded;--

Till for joy our belts we loosen'd,

Casting off constraint, and sported.

Danker now than in the dulcet

Spring-time grew the summer grasses;

Yet to-day our bliss was boundless.

_Anon._

COUPLET

When the great men of old pass'd by this way,

Could e'en their pleasures vie with ours to-day?

_Anon._

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 148: One of the ancient names of Japan, given to the country

on account of a supposed resemblance in shape to that insect. The

dragon-flies of Japan are various and very beautiful.]

[Footnote 149: The Mikado referred to is Zhiyomei, who died in A.D.

641.]

[Footnote 150: The poet alludes to the so-called Ama-no-Ukihashi, or

"floating bridge of heaven"--the bridge by which, according to the

Japanese mythology, the gods passed up and down in the days of old.]

SHORT STANZAS

I

Spring, spring has come, while yet the landscape bears

Its fleecy burden of unmelted snow!

Now may the zephyr gently 'gin to blow,

To melt the nightingale's sweet frozen tears.

_Anon._

II

Amid the branches of the silv'ry bowers

The nightingale doth sing: perchance he knows

That spring hath come, and takes the later snows

For the white petals of the plum's sweet flowers.[151]

_Sosei._

III

Too lightly woven must the garments be--

Garments of mist--that clothe the coming spring:--

In wild disorder see them fluttering

Soon as the zephyr breathes adown the lea.

_Yukihara._

IV

Heedless that now the mists of spring do rise,

Why fly the wild geese northward?--Can it be

Their native home is fairer to their eyes,

Though no sweet flowers blossom on its lea?

_Ise_.

V

If earth but ceased to offer to my sight

The beauteous cherry-trees when blossoming,

Ah! then indeed, with peaceful, pure delight,

My heart might revel in the joys of spring!

_Narihira._

VI

Tell me, doth any know the dark recess

Where dwell the winds that scatter the spring flow'rs?

Hide it not from me! By the heav'nly pow'rs,

I'll search them out to upbraid their wickedness!

_Sosei._

VII

No man so callous but he heaves a sigh

When o'er his head the withered cherry-flowers

Come flutt'ring down.--Who knows? the spring's soft show'rs

May be but tears shed by the sorrowing sky.

_Kuronushi._

VIII

Whom would your cries, with artful calumny,

Accuse of scatt'ring the pale cherry-flow'rs?

'Tis your own pinions flitting through these bow'rs

That raise the gust which makes them fall and die!

_Sosei._

IX

In blossoms the wistaria-tree to-day

Breaks forth, that sweep the wavelets of my lake:--

When will the mountain cuckoo come and make

The garden vocal with his first sweet lay?

_Attributed to Hitomaro._

X

Oh, lotus leaf! I dreamt that the wide earth

Held nought more pure than thee--held nought more true:--

Why, then, when on thee rolls a drop of dew,

Pretend that 'tis a gem of priceless worth?[152]

_Heñzeu._

XI

Can I be dreaming? 'Twas but yesterday

We planted out each tender shoot again;[153]

And now the autumn breeze sighs o'er the plain,

Where fields of yellow rice confess its sway.

_Anon._

XII

A thousand thoughts of tender, vague regret,

Crowd on my soul, what time I stand and gaze

On the soft-shining autumn moon; and yet

Not to me only speaks her silv'ry haze.

_Chisato._

XIII

What bark impelled by autumn's fresh'ning gale

Comes speeding t'ward me?--'Tis the wild geese arriv'n

Across the fathomless expanse of Heav'n,

And lifting up their voices for a sail!

_Anon._

XIV

_Autumn_

The silv'ry dewdrops that in autumn light

Upon the moors, must surely jewels be;

For there they hang all over hill and lea,

Strung on the threads the spiders weave so tight.

_Asayasu._

XV

_Autumn_

The trees and herbage, as the year doth wane,

For gold and russet leave their former hue--

All but the wave-toss'd flow'rets of the main,

That never yet chill autumn's empire knew.

_Yasuhide._

XVI

_Autumn_

The dews are all of one pale silv'ry white:--

Then tell me, if thou canst, oh! tell me why

These silv'ry dews so marvellously dye

The autumn leaves a myriad colors bright?

_Toshiyuki._

XVII

_Autumn_

The warp is hoar-frost and the woof is dew--

Too frail, alas! the warp and woof to be:--

For scarce the woods their damask robes endue,

When, torn and soiled, they flutter o'er the lea.

_Sekiwo._

XVIII

_Autumn_

E'en when on earth the thund'ring gods held sway

Was such a sight beheld?--Calm Tatsta's flood,

Stain'd, as by Chinese art, with hues of blood,

Rolls o'er Yamáto's peaceful fields away.

_Narihira._

XIX

_Winter_

When falls the snow, lo! ev'ry herb and tree,

That in seclusion through the wintry hours

Long time had been held fast, breaks forth in flow'rs

That ne'er in spring were known upon the lea.

_Tsurayuki._

XX

_Winter_

When from the skies, that wintry gloom enshrouds,

The blossoms fall and flutter round my head,

Methinks the spring e'en now his light must shed

O'er heavenly lands that lie beyond the clouds.

_Fukayabu._

XXI

_Congratulations_

A thousand years of happy life be thine!

Live on, my lord, till what are pebbles now,

By age united, to great rocks shall grow,

Whose venerable sides the moss doth line!

_Anon._

XXII

_Congratulations_[154]

Of all the days and months that hurry by

Nor leave a trace, how long the weary tale!

And yet how few the springs when in the vale

On the dear flow'rets I may feast mine eye!

_Okikaze._

XXIII

_Congratulations_

If ever mortal in the days of yore

By Heav'n a thousand years of life was lent,

I wot not; but if never seen before,

Be thou the man to make the precedent.

_Sosei._

XXIV

_Parting_

Mine oft-reiterated pray'rs in vain

The parting guest would stay: Oh, cherry-flow'rs!

Pour down your petals, that from out these bow'rs

He ne'er may find the homeward path again!

_Anon._

XXV

_Travelling_

With roseate hues that pierce th' autumnal haze

The spreading dawn lights up Akashi's shore;

But the fair ship, alas! is seen no more:--

An island veils it from my loving gaze.

_Attributed to Hitomaro._

XXVI

_Travelling_

Miyako-bird! if not in vain men give

Thy pleasing name, my question deign to hear:--

And has she pass'd away, my darling dear,

Or doth she still for Narihira live?

_Narihira._

* * * * *

XXVIII

_Love_

The barest ledge of rock, if but a seed

Alight upon it, lets the pine-tree grow:--

If, then, thy love for me be love indeed,

We'll come together, dear; it must be so!

_Anon._

XXIX

_Love_

There is on earth a thing more bootless still

Than to write figures on a running stream:--

And that thing is (believe me if you will)

To dream of one who ne'er of you doth dream.

_Anon._

* * * * *

XXXI

_Love_

Since that first night when, bath'd in hopeless tears,

I sank asleep, and he I love did seem

To visit me, I welcome ev'ry dream,

Sure that they come as heav'n-sent messengers.

_Komachi._

XXXII

_Love_

Methinks my tenderness the grass must be,

Clothing some mountain desolate and lone;

For though it daily grows luxuriantly,

To ev'ry mortal eye 'tis still unknown.

_Yoshiki._

XXXIII

_Love_

Upon the causeway through the land of dreams

Surely the dews must plentifully light:--

For when I've wandered up and down all night,

My sleeve's so wet that nought will dry its streams.

_Tsurayuki._

XXXIV

_Love_

Fast fall the silv'ry dews, albeit not yet

'Tis autumn weather; for each drop's a tear,

Shed till the pillow of my hand is wet,

As I wake from dreaming of my dear.

_Anon._

XXXV

_Love_

I ask'd my soul where springs th' ill-omened seed

That bears the herb of dull forgetfulness;[155]

And answer straightway came:--Th' accursed weed

Grows in that heart which knows no tenderness.

_Sosei._

XXXVI

_Elegies_[156]

So frail our life, perchance to-morrow's sun

May never rise for me. Ah! well-a-day!

Till comes the twilight of the sad to-day,

I'll mourn for thee, O thou beloved one!

_Tsurayuki._

XXXVII

_Elegies_

The perfume is the same, the same the hue

As that which erst my senses did delight:--

But he who planted the fair avenue

Is here no more, alas! to please my sight!

_Tsurayuki._

XXXVIII

_Elegies_

One thing, alas! more fleeting have I seen

Than wither'd leaves driv'n by the autumn gust:--

Yea, evanescent as the whirling dust

Is man's brief passage o'er this mortal scene!

_Chisato._

XXXIX

Softly the dews upon my forehead light:--

From off the oars, perchance, as feather'd spray,

They drop, while some fair skiff bends on her way

Across the Heav'nly Stream[157] on starlit night.

_Anon._

XL

What though the waters of that antique rill

That flows along the heath, no more are cold;

Those who remember what it was of old

Go forth to draw them in their buckets still.

_Anon._

XLI[158]

Old Age is not a friend I wish to meet;

And if some day to see me he should come,

I'd lock the door as he walk'd up the street,

And cry, "Most honored sir! I'm not at home!"

_Anon_.

XLII[159]

Yes, I am old; but yet with doleful stour

I will not choose to rail 'gainst Fate's decree.

An' I had not grown old, then ne'er for me

Had dawned the day that brings this golden hour.

_Toshiyuki._

XLIII[160]

The roaring torrent scatters far and near

Its silv'ry drops:--Oh! let me pick them up!

For when of grief I drain some day the cup,

Each will do service as a bitter tear.

_Yukihira._

XLIV

_Composed on beholding the cascade of Otoha on Mount Hiye_

Long years, methinks, of sorrow and of care

Must have pass'd over the old fountain-head

Of the cascade; for, like a silv'ry thread,

It rolls adown, nor shows one jet-black hair.

_Tadamine._

XLV

If e'en that grot where thou didst seek release

From worldly strife in lonesome mountain glen

Should find thee sometimes sorrowful, ah! then

Where mayest thou farther flee to search for peace?

_Mitsune._

XLVI[161]

So close thy friendly roof, so near the spring,

That though not yet dull winter hath gone hence,

The wind that bloweth o'er our parting fence

From thee to me the first gay flow'rs doth bring.

_Fukayabu._

XLVII

If to this frame of mine in spring's first hour,

When o'er the moor the lightsome mists do curl,

Might but be lent the shape of some fair flower,

Haply thou 'dst deign to pluck me, cruel girl!

_Okikaze._

XLVIII

"Love me, sweet girl! thy love is all I ask!"

"Love thee?" she laughing cries; "I love thee not!"

"Why, then I'll cease to love thee on the spot,

Since loving thee is such a thankless task!"

_Anon._

XLIX

A youth once lov'd me, and his love I spurn'd.

But see the vengeance of the pow'rs above

On cold indiff'rence:--now 'tis I that love,

And my fond love, alas! is not returned.

_Anon._

L

Beneath love's heavy weight my falt'ring soul

Plods, like the packman, o'er life's dusty road.

Oh! that some friendly hand would find a pole

To ease my shoulders of their grievous load!

_Anon._

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 151: The plum-tree, cherry-tree, etc., are in Japan

cultivated, not for their fruit, but for their blossoms. Together with

the wistaria, the lotus, the iris, the lespedeza, and a few others,

these take the place which is occupied in the West by the rose, the

lily, the violet, etc.]

[Footnote 152: The lotus is the Buddhist emblem of purity, and the

lotus growing out of the bud is a frequent metaphor for the heart that

remains unsullied by contact with the world.]

[Footnote 153: The transplanting of the rice occupies the whole rural

population during the month of June, when men and women may all be

seen working in the fields, knee-deep in water. The crops are gathered

in October.]

[Footnote 154: This ode was composed on beholding a screen presented

to the Empress by Prince Sadayasu at the festival held in honor of her

fiftieth birthday, whereon was painted a man seated beneath the

falling cherry blossoms and watching them flutter down.]

[Footnote 155: The "Herb of Forgetfulness" answers in the poetical

diction of the Japanese to the classical waters Lethe.]

[Footnote 156: It is the young poet Ki-no-Tomonori who is mourned in

this stanza.]

[Footnote 157: The Milky Way.]

[Footnote 158: This stanza is remarkable for being (so far as the

present writer is aware) the only instance in Japanese literature of

that direct impersonation of an abstract idea which is so very

strongly marked a characteristic of Western thoughts and modes of

expression.]

[Footnote 159: Composed on the occasion of a feast at the palace.]

[Footnote 160: One of a number of stanzas composed by a party of

courtiers who visited the cascade of Nunobiki, near the site of the

modern treaty-port of Kobe.]

[Footnote 161: This stanza was composed and sent to the owner of the

neighboring house on the last day of winter, when the wind had blown

some snow across from it into the poet's dwelling.]

* * * * *

THE DRAMA OF JAPAN

[_Selected Plays, translated by Basil Hall Chamberlain_]

NAKAMITSU

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

MITSUNAKA, Lord of the Horse to the Emperor Murakami.

BIJIYAU, Son of Mitsunaka, and still a boy.

NAKAMITSU, retainer of Mitsunaka.

KAUZHIYU, son of Nakamitsu, and foster-brother of Bijiyau.

WESHIÑ, Abbot of the great monastery on Mount Hiyei, near Kiyauto

(Miaco).

The Chorus.

Scene.--The Temple of Chiynuzañzhi, and my Lord Mitsunaka's palace in

Kiyauto.

Time.--Early in the Tenth Century.

NAKAMITSU

PART I

Scene I.--Near the Monastery of Chiynuzañzhi

_Enter Nakamitsu._

NAKAMITSU.--I am Nakamitsu, a man of the Fujihara clan, and retainer

of Mitsunaka, Lord of Tada in the land of Setsushiu. Now you must know

that my lord hath an only son, and him hath he sent to a certain

monastery amid the mountains named Chiynuzañzhi, while I, too, have a

son called Kauzhiyu, who is gone as page to young my lord. But young

my lord doth not condescend to apply his mind unto study, loving

rather nothing so well as to spend from morn to night in quarrelling

and disturbance. Wherefore, thinking doubtless to disinherit young my

lord, my lord already this many a time, hath sent his messengers to

the temple with summons to return home to Kiyauto. Nevertheless, as he

cometh not, me hath he now sent on the same errand.

[_The above words are supposed to be spoken during the journey, and

Nakamitsu now arrives at the monastery[162]._]

Prithee! is any within?

KAUZHIYU.--Who is it that deigneth to ask admittance?

NAKAMITSU.--What! Is that Kauzhiyu? Tell young my lord that I have

come to fetch him home.

KAUZHIYU.--Your commands shall be obeyed. [_He goes to his master's

apartment._] How shall I dare address my lord? Nakamitsu is come to

fetch my lord.

BIJIYAU.--Call him hither.

KAUZHIYU.--Your commands shall be obeyed. [_He returns to the outer

hall and addresses his father._] Condescend to come this way.

[_They go to Bijiyau's apartment._

NAKAMITSU.--It is long since I was last here.

BIJIYAU.--And what is it that hath now brought thee?

NAKAMITSU.--'Tis that my lord, your father, hath sent me to bid your

lordship follow me home without delay.

BIJIYAU.--Shall I, then, go without saying anything to the priests, my

preceptors?

NAKAMITSU.--Yes; if the priests be told, they will surely wish to see

your lordship on the way, whereas, my lord, your father's commands

were, that I alone was to escort you.

BIJIYAU.--Then we will away.

NAKAMITSU.--Kauzhiyu! thou, too, shalt accompany thy master.

KAUZHIYU.--Your commands shall be obeyed.

[_They depart from the temple, and arrive at Mitsunaka's palace._

NAKAMITSU.--How shall I dare address my lord? I have brought hither

his lordship Bijiyau.

MITSUNAKA.--Well, Bijiyau! my only reason for sending thee up to the

monastery was to help thy learning; and I would fain begin, by hearing

thee read aloud from the Scriptures.

And with these words, and bidding him read on,

He lays on ebon desk before his son

The sacred text, in golden letters writ.

BIJIYAU.--But how may he who never bent his wit

To make the pencil trace Asaka's[163] line

Spell out one letter of the book divine?

In vain, in vain his sire's behest he hears:--

Nought may he do but choke with idle tears.

MITSUNAKA.--Ah! surely 'tis that, being my child, he respecteth the

Scriptures too deeply, and chooseth not to read them except for

purposes of devotion. What of verse-making, then?

BIJIYAU.--I cannot make any.

MITSUNAKA.--And music? [_Bijiyau makes no answer._

MITSUNAKA.--What! no reply? Hast lost thy tongue, young fool?

CHORUS.--Whom, then, to profit wentest thou to school?

And can it be that e'en a father's word,

Like snow that falling melts, is scarcely heard,

But 'tis unheeded? Ah! 'twill drive me wild

To point thee out to strangers as my child!

No sooner said, than out the scabbard flies

His trusty sword, and with fierce flashing eyes

Forward he darts; but rushing in between,

Good Nakamitsu checks the bloody scene--

Firm, though respectful, stays his master's arm,

And saves the lad from perilous alarm.

NAKAMITSU.--Good my lord, deign to be merciful this once!

MITSUNAKA.--Why stayed'st thou my hand? Haste thou now and slay

Bijiyau with this my sword.

NAKAMITSU.--Your commands shall be obeyed. [_He retires into another

apartment._] What is this horror unutterable? 'Tis no mere passing fit

of anger. What shall I do?--Ah! I have it! I have it! I will take upon

myself to contrive some plan for his escape. Kauzhiyu, Kauzhiyu, art

thou there?

KAUZHIYU.--Behold me at thy service.

NAKAMITSU.--Where is my lord Bijiyau?

KAUZHIYU.--All my prayers have been unavailing to make him leave this

spot.

NAKAMITSU.--But why will he not seek refuge somewhere? Here am I come

from my lord, his father, as a messenger of death! [_Bijiyau shows

himself._

BIJIYAU.--That I am alive here at this moment is thy doing. But

through the lattice I heard my father's words to thee just now.

Little imports it an' I die or live,

But 'tis for thee I cannot choose but grieve

If thou do vex thy lord: to avert his ire

Strike off my head, and show it to my sire!

NAKAMITSU.--My lord, deign to be calm! I will take upon myself to

contrive some plan for your escape.--What! say you a messenger hath

come? My heart sinks within me.--What! another messenger?

[_These are messengers from Mitsunaka to ask whether his orders be not

yet carried into execution_.

NAKAMITSU.--Alas! each joy, each grief we see unfurl'd

Rewards some action in a former world.

KAUZHIYU.--In ages past thou sinned;

BIJIYAU.--And to-day

CHORUS.--Comes retribution! think not then to say

'Tis others' fault, nor foolishly upbraid

The lot thyself for thine own self hast made.

Say not the world's askew! with idle prate

Of never-ending grief the hour grows late.

Strike off my head! with many a tear he cries,

And might, in sooth, draw tears from any eyes.[164]

NAKAMITSU.--Ah! young my lord, were I but of like age with thee, how

readily would I not redeem thy life at the cost of mine own! Alas!

that so easy a sacrifice should not be possible!

KAUZHIYU.--Father, I would make bold to speak a word unto thee.

NAKAMITSU.--What may it be?

KAUZHIYU.--'Tis, father, that the words thou hast just spoken have

found a lodgment in mine ears. Thy charge, truly, is Mitsunaka; but

Mitsunaka's son is mine. This, if any, is a great occasion, and my

years point to me as of right the chief actor in it. Be quick! be

quick! strike off my head, and show it to Mitsunaka[165] as the head

of my lord Bijiyau!

NAKAMITSU.--Thou'st spoken truly, Nakamitsu cries,

And the long sword from out his scabbard flies,

What time he strides behind his boy.

BIJIYAU.--But no!

The youthful lord on such stupendous woe

May never gaze unmov'd; with bitter wail

The father's sleeve he clasps. Nought may 't avail,

He weeping cries, e'en should the deed be done,

For I will slay myself if falls thy son.

KAUZHIYU.--But 'tis the rule--a rule of good renown--

That for his lord a warrior must lay down

His lesser life.

BIJIYAU.-- But e'en if lesser, yet

He, too, is human; neither shouldst forget

What shame will e'er be mine if I survive

NAKAMITSU.--Alas! alas! and 'tis for death they strive!

KAUZHIYU.--Me deign to hear.

BIJIYAU.--No! mine the truer word!

NAKAMITSU.--Ah! this my child!

KAUZHIYU.--And there behold thy lord!

NAKAMITSU.--Betwixt the two see Nakamitsu stand:--

CHORUS.--His own brave life, an' 'twere his lord's command,

Were freely giv'n; but now, in sore dismay,

E'en his fierce courage fades and droops away.

BIJIYAU.--Why heed a life my sire himself holds cheap?

Nought may thy pity do but sink more deep

My soul in wretchedness.

KAUZHIYU.--Mistake me not!

Think not 'tis pity moves me; but a blot

The martial honor of our house will stain,

If, when I might have bled, my lord be slain.

CHORUS.--On either side 'tis infancy that pleads.

NAKAMITSU.--And yet how well they've learnt where duty leads!

CHORUS.--Dear is thy lord!

NAKAMITSU.--And mine own child how dear!

CHORUS.--But Nakamitsu knows full well that ne'er,

To save the child his craven heart ador'd,

Warrior yet dar'd lay hands upon his lord.

He to the left, the trembling father cries,

Was sure my boy, nor lifts his tear-stain'd eyes:--

A flash, a moment, the fell sabre gleams,

And sends his infant to the land of dreams.[166]

NAKAMITSU.--Oh, horror unutterable! to think that I should have slain

mine own innocent child! But I must go and inform my lord. [_He goes

to Mitsunaka's apartment._ How shall I dare to address my lord? I

have slain my lord Bijiyau according to your commands.

MITSUNAKA.--So thou hast killed the fellow? I trow his last moments

were those of a coward. Is it not true?

NAKAMITSU.--Not so, my lord. As I stood there aghast, holding in my

hand the sword your lordship gave me, your son called out, "Why doth

Nakamitsu thus delay?" and those were the last words he was pleased to

utter.

MITSUNAKA.--As thou well knowest, Bijiyau was mine only child. Go and

call thy son Kauzhiyu, and I will adopt him as mine heir.

NAKAMITSU.--Kauzhiyu, my lord, in despair at being separated from

young my lord, hath cut off his locks,[167] and vanished none knows

whither.

I, too, thy gracious license would obtain.

Hence to depart, and in some holy fane

To join the priesthood.

MITSUNAKA.--Harsh was my decree,

Yet can I think what thy heart's grief must be

That as its own my recreant child receiv'd,

And now of both its children is bereav'd.

But 'tis a rule of universal sway

That a retainer ever must obey.

CHORUS.--Thus would my lord, with many a suasion fond,

Have rais'd poor Nakamitsu from despond.

Nor eke himself, with heart all stony hard,

Might, as a father, ev'ry pang discard:--

Behold him now, oh! lamentable sight!

O'er his own son perform the fun'ral rite.

PART II

Scene I.--Mitsunaka's Palace

_Some time is supposed to have elapsed, and Weshiñ, abbot of the

monastery on Mount Hiyei, comes down from that retreat to Mitsunaka's

palace in the capital, bringing with him Bijiyau, who had been

persuaded by Nakamitsu to take refuge with the holy man._

WESHIÑ.--I am the priest Weshiñ, and am hastening on my way to my lord

Mitsunaka's palace, whither certain motives guide me. [_They arrive at

the gate and he cries out_:] I would fain crave admittance.

NAKAMITSU.--Who is it that asks to be admitted? Ah! 'tis his

reverence, Weshiñ.

WESHIÑ.--Alas, for poor Kauzhiyu!

Nakamitsu.--Yes; but prithee speak not of this before his lordship.

[_He goes to Mitsunaka's apartment._] How shall I venture to address

my lord? His reverence, Weshiñ, hath arrived from Mount Hiyei.

MITSUNAKA.--Call him hither.

Nakamitsu.--Your commands shall be obeyed. [_He goes to the room where

Weshiñ is waiting, and says_:] Be pleased to pass this way.

[_They enter Mitsunaka's apartment._

MITSUNAKA.--What may it be that has brought your reverence here

to-day?

WESHIÑ.--'Tis this, and this only. I come desiring to speak to your

lordship anent my lord Bijiyau.

MITSUNAKA.--Respecting him I gave orders to Nakamitsu, which orders

have been carried out.

WESHIÑ.--Ah! my lord, 'tis that, 'tis that I would discourse of. Be

not agitated, but graciously deign to give me thine attention while I

speak. Thou didst indeed command that my lord Bijiyau's head should

be struck off. But never might Nakamitsu prevail upon himself to lay

hands on one to whom, as his lord, he knew himself bound in reverence

through all the changing scenes of the Three Worlds.[168] Wherefore he

slew his own son, Kauzhiyu, to save my lord Bijiyau's life. And now

here I come bringing Bijiyau with me, and would humbly supplicate thee

to forgive one who was so loved that a man hath given his own son in

exchange for him.[169]

MITSUNAKA.--Then he was a coward, as I thought! Wherefore, if Kauzhiyu

was sacrificed, did he, too, not slay himself?

WESHIÑ.--My lord, put all other thoughts aside, and if it be only as

an act of piety towards Kauzhiyu's soul--curse not thy son!

CHORUS.--As thus the good man speaks,

Tears of entreaty pour adown his cheeks.

The father hears, and e'en his ruthless breast,

Soft'ning at last, admits the fond request,

While Nakamitsu, crowning their delight,

The flow'ry wine brings forth, and cups that might

Have served the fays: but who would choose to set

Their fav'rite's bliss that, home returning, wet

His grandson's grandson's still remoter line,

Beside the joy that doth itself entwine

Round the fond hearts of father and of son,

Parted and now in the same life made one?

WESHIÑ.--Prithee, Nakamitsu, wilt thou not dance and sing to us

awhile, in honor of this halcyon hour?

[_During the following song Nakamitsu dances._

NAKAMITSU.--Water-bird, left all alone

Now thy little mate hath flown,

On the billows to and fro

Flutter, flutter, full of woe!

CHORUS.--Full of woe, so full of woe,

Flutter, flutter, full of woe!

NAKAMITSU.--Ah! if my darling were but here to-day

I'd make the two together dance and play

While I beat time, and, gazing on my boy,

Instead of tears of grief, shed tears of joy!

CHORUS.--Behold him weep!

NAKAMITSU.--But the gay throng perceive

Nought but the rhythmic waving of my sleeve.

CHORUS.--Hither and thither, flutt'ring in the wind.

NAKAMITSU.--Above, beneath, with many a dewdrop lin'd!

CHORUS.--Ah, dewy tears! in this our world of woe

If any stay, the friends he loves must go:--

Thus 'tis ordain'd, and he that smiles to-day

To-morrow owns blank desolation's sway.

But now 'tis time to part, the good priest cries--

Him his disciple follows, and they rise;

While Nakamitsu walking in their train,

The palanquin escorts; for he would fain

Last counsel give: "Beware, young lord, beware!

Nor cease from toilsome study; for if e'er

Thy sire again be anger'd, all is lost!"

Then takes his leave, low bending to the dust.

Forward they're borne; but Nakamitsu stays,

Watching and weeping with heart-broken gaze,

And, mutely weeping, thinks how ne'er again

He'll see his child borne homeward o'er the plain.

ABSTRACTION

[_The Japanese title is "Za-zeñ"._]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

A HUSBAND.

HIS WIFE.

TARAUKUWAZHIYA, their servant.

ABSTRACTION

Scene I.--A Room in a Private House in Kiyauto

HUSBAND.--I am a resident in the suburbs of the metropolis. On the

occasion of a recent journey down[170] East, I was served (at a

tea-house) in the post-town of Nogami, in the province of Mino, by a

girl called Hana, who, having since then heard of my return to the

capital, has followed me up here, and settled down at Kita-Shira-kaha,

where she expects me this evening according to a promise made by

letter. But my vixen of a wife has got scent of the affair and thus

made it difficult for me to go. So what I mean to do is to call her,

and tell her some pretty fable that may set me free. Halloo! halloo!

are you there, pray? are you there?

WIFE.--So it seems you are pleased to call me. What may it be that

makes you thus call me?

HUSBAND.--Well, please to come in.

WIFE.--Your commands are obeyed.

HUSBAND.--My reason for calling you is just simply this: I want to

tell you how much my spirits have been affected by continual dreams

that I have had. That is why I have called you.

WIFE.--You are talking rubbish. Dreams proceed from organic

disturbance, and do not come true; so pray don't trouble your head

about them.

HUSBAND.--What you say is quite correct. Dreams, proceeding as they do

from organic disturbance, do not come true nine times out of ten.

Still, mine have affected my spirits to such an extent, that I think

of making some pilgrimage or other to offer up prayers both on your

behalf and on my own.

WIFE.--Then where shall you go?

HUSBAND.--I mean (to say nothing of those in the metropolis and in the

suburbs) to worship at every Shiñtau shrine and every Buddhist temple

throughout the land.

WIFE.--No, no! I won't allow you to go out of the house for a single

hour. If you are so completely bent upon it, choose some devotion that

can be performed at home.

HUSBAND.--Some devotion to be performed at home? What devotion could

it be?

WIFE.--Burning incense on your arm or on your head.[171]

HUSBAND.--How thoughtlessly you do talk! What! is a devotion like that

to suit _me_--a layman if ever there was one?

WIFE.--I won't tolerate any devotion that cannot be performed at home.

HUSBAND.--Well, I never! You _are_ one for talking at random. Hang it!

what devotion shall it be? [_He reflects a few moments._] Ah! I have

it! I will perform the devotion of abstraction.

WIFE.--Abstraction? What is that?

HUSBAND.--Your want of familiarity with the term is but natural. It is a

devotion that was practised in days of old by Saint Daruma[172]--(blessings

on him!) you put your head under what is called the "abstraction blanket,"

and obtain salvation by forgetting all things past and to come--a most

difficult form of devotion.

WIFE.--About how long does it take?

HUSBAND.--Well, I should say about a week or two.

WIFE.--That won't do, either, if it is to last so many days.

HUSBAND.--Then for how long would my darling consent to it without

complaining?

WIFE.--About one hour is what I should suggest; but, however, if you

can do it in a day, you are welcome to try.

HUSBAND.--Never, never! This important devotion is not a thing to be

so easily performed within the limits of a single day. Please, won't

you grant me leave for at least a day and a night?

WIFE.--A day and a night?

HUSBAND.--Yes.

WIFE.--I don't much relish the idea; but if you are so completely bent

upon it, take a day and a night for your devotion.

HUSBAND.--Really and truly?

WIFE.--Really and truly.

HUSBAND.--Oh! that is indeed too delightful! But I have something to

tell you: know then, that if a woman so much as peep through a chink,

to say nothing of her coming into the actual room where the devotee is

sitting, the spell of the devotion is instantly broken. So be sure not

to come to where I am.

WIFE.--All right. I will not come to you. So perform away.

HUSBAND.--Well, then, we will meet again after it shall have been

happily accomplished.

WIFE.--I shall have the pleasure of seeing you when it is over.

HUSBAND AND WIFE.--Good-by! good-by! [_She moves away._

HUSBAND.--I say!

WIFE.--What is it?

HUSBAND.--As I mentioned before, mind you don't come to me. We have

the Buddhist's warning words: "When there is a row in the kitchen, to

be rapt in abstraction is an impossibility."[173] So whatever you do,

do not come to me.

WIFE.--Please feel no uneasiness. I shall not think of intruding.

HUSBAND.--Well, then, we shall meet again when the devotion is over.

WIFE.--When it is done, I shall have the pleasure of seeing you.

HUSBAND AND WIFE.--Good-by! Good-by!

HUSBAND [_laughing_].--What fools women are, to be sure! To think of

the delight of her taking it all for truth, when I tell her that I am

going to perform the religious devotion of abstraction for one whole

day and night! Taraukuwazhiya, are you there? halloo?

SERVANT.--Yes, sir!

HUSBAND.--Are you there?

SERVANT.--At your service.

HUSBAND.--Oh! you have been quick in coming.

SERVANT.--You seem, master, to be in good spirits.

HUSBAND.--For my good spirits there is a good reason. I have made, as

you know, an engagement to go and visit Hana this evening. But as my

old woman has got scent of the affair, thus making it difficult for me

to go, I have told her that I mean to perform the religious devotion

of abstraction for a whole day and night--a very good denial, is it

not? for carrying out my plan of going to see Hana!

SERVANT.--A very good device indeed, sir.

HUSBAND.--But in connection with it, I want to ask you to do me a good

turn. Will you?

SERVANT.--Pray, what may it be?

HUSBAND.--Why, just simply this: it is that I have told my old woman

not to intrude on my devotions; but, being the vixen that she is, who

knows but what she may not peep and look in? in which case she would

make a fine noise if there were no semblance of a religious practice

to be seen; and so, though it is giving you a great deal of trouble, I

wish you would oblige me by taking my place until my return.

SERVANT.--Oh! it would be no trouble; but I shall get such a scolding

if found out, that I would rather ask you to excuse me.

HUSBAND.--What nonsense you talk! Do oblige me by taking my place; for

I will not allow her to scold you.

SERVANT.--Oh sir! that is all very well; but pray excuse me for this

time.

HUSBAND.--No, no! you must please do this for me; for I will not so

much as let her point a finger at you.

SERVANT.--Please, please let me off!

HUSBAND.--Gracious goodness! The fellow heeds what my wife says, and

won't heed what I say myself! Do you mean that you have made up your

mind to brave me?

[_Threatening to beat him._

SERVANT.--Oh! I will obey.

HUSBAND.--No, no! you mean to brave me!

SERVANT.--Oh no, sir! surely I have no choice but to obey.

HUSBAND.--Really and truly?

SERVANT.--Yes, really and truly.

HUSBAND.--My anger was only a feint. Well, then, take my place,

please.

SERVANT.--Yes, to be sure; if it is your desire, I will do so.

HUSBAND.--That is really too delightful. Just stop quiet while I set

things to rights for you to sit in abstraction.

SERVANT.--Your commands are laid to heart.

HUSBAND.--Sit down here.

SERVANT.--Oh! what an unexpected honor!

HUSBAND.--Now, then; I fear it will be uncomfortable, but oblige me by

putting your head under this "abstraction blanket."

SERVANT.--Your commands are laid to heart.

HUSBAND.--Well, it is scarcely necessary to say so; but even if my old

woman should tell you to take off the abstraction blanket, be sure not

to do so until my return.

SERVANT.--Of course not. I should not think of taking it off. Pray

don't be alarmed.

HUSBAND.--I will be back soon.

SERVANT.--Please be good enough to return quickly.

HUSBAND.--Ah! that is well over! No doubt Hana is waiting impatiently

for me. I will make haste and go.

WIFE.--I am mistress of this house. I perfectly understood my partner

the first time he asked me not to come to him on account of the

religious devotion which he was going to perform. But there is

something suspicious in his insisting on it a second time with a

"Don't come to look at me! don't come to look at me!" So I will just

peep through some hidden corner, and see what the thing looks like.

[_Peeping._] What's this? Why, it seems much more uncomfortable than I

had supposed! [_Coming in and drawing near._] Please, please; you told

me not to come to you, and therefore I had intended not to do so; but

I felt anxious, and so I have come. Won't you lift off that

"abstraction blanket," and take something, if only a cup of tea, to

unbend your mind a little? [_The figure under the blanket shakes its

head._] You are quite right. The thought of my being so disobedient

and coming to you after the care you took to tell me not to intrude

may justly rouse your anger; but please forgive my rudeness, and do

please take that blanket off and repose yourself, do! [_The figure

shakes its head again._] You may say no again and again, but I _will_

have it off. You _must_ take it off. Do you hear? [_She pulls it off,

and Taraukuwazhiya stands exposed._] What! you, you rascal? Where has

my old man gone? Won't you speak? Won't you speak?

SERVANT.--Oh! I know nothing.

WIFE.--Oh! how furious I am! Oh! how furious I am! Of course he must

have gone to that woman's house. Won't you speak? Won't you speak? I

shall tear you in pieces?

SERVANT.--In that case, how can I keep anything from you? Master has

walked out to see Miss Hana.

WIFE.--What! _Miss_ Hana, do you say? Say, _Minx_, say _Minx_.

Gracious me, what a rage I am in! Then he really has gone to Hana's

house, has he?

SERVANT.--Yes, he really has gone there.

WIFE.--Oh! when I hear he has gone to Hana's house, I feel all ablaze,

and oh! in such a passion! oh! in such a passion! [_She bursts out

crying._

SERVANT.--Your tears are but natural.

WIFE.--Ah! I had meant not to let you go if you had kept it from me.

But as you have told the truth I forgive you. So get up.

SERVANT.--I am extremely grateful for your kindness.

WIFE.--Now tell me, how came you to be sitting there?

SERVANT.--It was master's order that I should take his place; and so,

although it was most repugnant to me, there was no alternative but for

me to sit down, and I did so.

WIFE.--Naturally. Now I want to ask you to do me a good turn. Will

you?

SERVANT.--Pray, what may it be?

WIFE.--Why, just simply this: you will arrange the blanket on top of

me just as it was arranged on the top of you; won't you?

SERVANT.--Oh! your commands ought of course to be laid to heart; but I

shall get such a scolding if the thing becomes known, that I would

rather ask you to excuse me.

WIFE.--No, no! I will not allow him to scold you; so you must really

please arrange me.

SERVANT.--Please, please, let me off this time.

WIFE.--No, no! you must arrange me, as I will not so much as let him

point a finger at you.

SERVANT.--Well, then, if it comes to my getting a scolding, I count on

you, ma'am, as an intercessor.

WIFE.--Of course. I will intercede for you; so do you please arrange

me.

SERVANT.--In that case, be so good as to sit down here.

WIFE.--All right.

SERVANT.--I fear it will be uncomfortable, but I must ask you to put

your head under this.

WIFE.--Please arrange me so that he cannot possibly know the

difference between us.

SERVANT.--He will never know. It will do very nicely like this.

WIFE.--Will it?

SERVANT.--Yes.

WIFE.--Well, then! do you go and rest.

SERVANT.--Your commands are laid to heart.

[_He moves away._

WIFE.--Wait a moment, Taraukuwazhiya!

SERVANT.--Yes, ma'am.

WIFE.--It is scarcely necessary to say so, but be sure not to tell him

that it is I.

SERVANT.--Of course not, I should not think of telling him.

WIFE.--It has come to my ears that you have been secretly wishing for

a purse and silk wrapper.[174] I will give you one of each which I

have worked myself.

SERVANT.--I am extremely grateful for your kindness.

WIFE.--Now be off and rest.

SERVANT.--Yes, ma'am.

_Enter husband, singing as he walks along the road._

Why should the lonely sleeper heed

The midnight bell, the bird of dawn?

But ah! they're sorrowful indeed

When loosen'd was the damask zone.

Her image still, with locks that sleep

Had tangled, haunts me, and for aye;

Like willow-sprays where winds do sweep,

All tangled too, my feelings lie.

As the world goes, it rarely happens even with the most ardent secret

love; but in my case I never see her but what I care for her more and

more:--

'Twas in the spring-time that we first did meet,

Nor e'er can I forget my flow'ret sweet.

Ah well! ah well! I keep talking like one in a dream, and meantime

Taraukuwazhiya is sure to be impatiently awaiting me. I must get home.

How will he have been keeping my place for me? I feel a bit uneasy.

[_He arrives at his house._] Halloo! halloo! Taraukuwazhiya! I'm back!

I'm back! [_He enters the room._] I'm just back. Poor fellow! the time

must have seemed long to you. There now! [_Seating himself._] Well, I

should like to tell you to take off the "abstraction blanket"; but you

would probably feel ashamed at being exposed.[175] Anyhow I will

relate to you what Hana said last night if you care to listen. Do you?

[_The figure nods acquiescence._] So you would like to? Well, then,

I'll tell you all about it: I made all the haste I could, but yet it

was nearly dark before I arrived; and I was just going to ask

admittance, my thoughts full of how anxiously Hana must be waiting for

me in her loneliness, saying, perhaps, with the Chinese poet[176]:--

He promised but he comes not, and I lie on my pillow in the fifth

watch of the night:--

The wind shakes the pine trees and the bamboos; can it be my beloved?

when there comes borne to me the sound of her voice, humming as she

sat alone:--

"The breezes through the pine trees moan,

The dying torch burns low;

Ah me! 'tis eerie all alone!

Say, will he come or no?"

So I gave a gentle rap on the back door, on hearing which she cried

out: "Who's there? who's there?" Well, a shower was falling at the

time. So I answered by singing:--

Who comes to see you Hana dear,

Regardless of the soaking rain?

And do your words, Who's there, who's there?

Mean that you wait for lovers twain?

to which Hana replied:--

"What a fine joke! well, who can tell?

On such a dark and rainy night

Who ventures out must love me well,

And I, of course, must be polite,

And say: Pray sir, pass this way."

And, with these words, she loosened the ring and staple with a

cling-a-ring, and pushed open the door with a crick-a-tick; and while

the breeze from the bamboo blind poured towards me laden with the

scent of flowers, out she comes to me, and, "At your service, sir,"

says she, "though I am but a poor country maid." So in we went, hand

in hand, to the parlor. But yet her first question, "Who's there?" had

left me so doubtful as to whether she might not be playing a double

game, that I turned my back on her, and said crossly that I supposed

she had been expecting a number of lovers, and that the thought quite

spoiled my pleasure. But oh! what a darling Hana is! Coming to my side

and clasping tight my hand, she whispered, saying:

"If I do please you not, then from the first

Better have said that I do please you not;

But wherefore pledge your troth, and after turn

Against me? Alas! alas!

"Why be so angry? I am playing no double game." Then she asked why I

had not brought you, Taraukuwazhiya, with me; and on my telling her

the reason why you had remained at home, "Poor fellow!" said she, "how

lonely he must be all by himself! Never was there a handier lad at

everything than he, though doubtless it is a case of the mugwort

planted among the hemp, which grows straight without need of twisting,

and of the sand mixed with the mud, which gets black without need of

dyeing,[177] and it is his having been bound to you from a boy that

has made him so genteel and clever. Please always be a kind master to

him." Yes, those are the things you have said of you when Hana is the

speaker. As for my old vixen, she wouldn't let as much fall from her

mug in the course of a century, I'll warrant! [_Violent shaking under

the blanket._] Then she asked me to pass into the inner room to rest

awhile. So in we went to the inner room, hand in hand. And then she

brought out wine and food, and pressed me to drink, so that what with

drinking one's self, and passing the cup to her, and pressing each

other to drink, we kept feasting until quite far into the night, when

at her suggestion another room was sought and a little repose taken.

But soon day began to break, and I said I would go home. Then Hana

exclaimed:--

"Methought that when I met thee, dearest heart!

I'd tell thee all that swells within my breast:--

But now already 'tis the hour to part,

And oh! how much still lingers unexpress'd!

Please stay and rest a little longer!" "But no!" said I, "I must get

home. All the temple-bells are a-ringing." "And heartless priests they

are," cried she, "that ring them! Horrid wretches to begin their

ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, when it is still the middle of the

night!" But for all her entreaties, and for all my own regrets, I

remembered that "meeting is but parting," and,

Tearing me loose, I made to go; farewell!

Farewell a thousand times, like ocean sands

Untold! and followed by her distant gaze

I went; but as I turn'd me round, the moon,

A slender rim, sparkling remain'd behind,

And oh! what pain it was to me to part!

[_He sheds tears._] And so I came home. Oh! isn't it a pity? [_Weeping

again._] Ah well! out of my heart's joy has flamed all this long

history, and meanwhile you must be very uncomfortable. Take off that

"abstraction blanket." Take it off, for I have nothing more to tell

you. Gracious goodness! what a stickler you are! Well, then! I must

pull it off myself. I _will_ have it off, man! do you hear me?

[_He pulls off the blanket, and up jumps his wife._

WIFE.--Oh! how furious I am! Oh! how furious I am! To hoax me and go

off to Hana in that manner!

HUSBAND.--Oh! not at all, not at all! I never went to Hana. I have

been performing my devotions, indeed I have.

WIFE.--What! so he means to come and tell me that he has been

performing his devotions? and then into the bargain to talk about

"things the old vixen would never have let drop"! Oh! I'm all ablaze

with rage! Hoaxing me and going off--where? Going off where?

[_Pursuing her husband round the stage._

HUSBAND.--Not at all, not at all! I never said anything of the kind.

Do, do forgive me! do forgive me!

WIFE.--Oh! how furious I am! Oh! how furious I am! Where have you

been, sir? where have you been?

HUSBAND.--Well, then! why should I conceal it from you? I have been to

pray both for your welfare and for my own at the Temple of the Five

Hundred Disciples[178] in Tsukushi.

WIFE.--Oh! how furious I am! Oh! how furious I am! as if you could

have got as far as the Five Hundred Disciples!

HUSBAND.--Do, do forgive me! Do forgive me!

WIFE.--Oh! how furious I am! Oh! how furious I am!

[_The husband runs away._

Where's the unprincipled wretch off to? Is there nobody there? Please

catch him! I won't let him escape! I won't let him escape!

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 162: The reader will call to mind the extreme simplicity

which distinguishes the method of representing the Japanese lyric

dramas. In accordance with this simplicity, all the changes of place

mentioned in the text are indicated merely by a slight movement to and

fro of the actors upon the stage.]

[Footnote 163: It is said that in antiquity an ode commencing with the

name of Mount Asaka was the first copybook put into the hands of

children. The term is therefore now used as the "Pillow-word" for

learning to write.]

[Footnote 164: The doctrine of retribution set forth in the above

lines is a cardinal point of the Buddhist teaching; and, as the

afflicted Christian seeks support in the expectation of future rewards

for goodness, so will the pious Buddhist find motives for resignation

in the consideration of his present sufferings as the consequence of

sins committed in past stages of existence.]

[Footnote 165: A little further on, Kauzhiyu says it is a "rule" that

a retainer must lay down his life for his lord. Though it would be

difficult to find either in the Buddhist or in the Confucian teaching

any explicit statement of such a duty, it is nevertheless true that

the almost frantic loyalty of the mediæval and modern Japanese was but

the natural result of such teaching domiciled amid a feudal society.

We may see in this drama the whole distance that had been traversed by

the Japanese mind since the time of the "Mañyefushifu" poets, whose

means of life and duty were so much nearer to those of the simply

joyous and unmoral, though not immoral, children of nature.]

[Footnote 166: Literally, "turns his child into a dream."]

[Footnote 167: During the Middle Ages it was very usual for afflicted

persons to renounce secular life, the Buddhist tonsure being the

outward sign of the step thus taken.]

[Footnote 168: The Past World, the Present World, and the World to

Come. According to the Buddhist teaching, the relations subsisting

between parents and children are for one life only; those between

husband and wife are for two lives; while those uniting a servant to

his lord or a disciple to his master endure for the space of three

consecutive lives.]

[Footnote 169: This sentence, which so strangely reminds us of John

iii., 16, is, like all the prose passages of these dramas, a literal

rendering of the Japanese original.]

[Footnote 170: In Japan, as in England, it is usual to talk of going

"up" to the capital and "down" to the country.]

[Footnote 171: A form of mortification current in the Shiñgoñ sect of

Buddhists.]

[Footnote 172: Bôdhidharma, the first Buddhist Patriarch of China,

whither he came from India in A.D. 520. He is said to have remained

seated in abstraction gazing at a wall for nine years, till his legs

rotted off. His name is, in Japan, generally associated with the

ludicrous. Thus certain legless and shapeless dolls are called after

him, and snow-figures are denominated Yuki-daruma (Snow Daruma).]

[Footnote 173: Needless to say that no such text exists.]

[Footnote 174: Used for carrying parcels, and for presenting anything

to, and receiving anything from, a superior. The touch of the

inferior's hand would be considered rude.]

[Footnote 175: The meaning is that, as one of the two must be under

the blanket in readiness for a possible visit from the wife, the

servant would doubtless feel it to be contrary to their respective

positions for him to take his ease outside while his master is sitting

cramped up inside--a peculiarly uncomfortable position, moreover, for

the teller of a long story.]

[Footnote 176: The lines are in reality a bad Japanese imitation of

some in a poem by Li Shang-Yin.]

[Footnote 177: Proverbial expressions.]

[Footnote 178: Properly, the Five Hundred "Arhân," or personal

disciples of Sâkya. The island of Tsukushi forms the southwestern

extremity of Japan.]