Japanese Literature

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.165

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 Mitsunaka166 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.167

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,168 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 IIScene 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.169 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.170

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.

ABSTRACTIONScene 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 down171 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.172

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 Daruma173—(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."174 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.175 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.176 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 poet177:—