  In the eleventh century two powerful clans, the Taira and the Minamoto, contended for mastery. In 1181 Kiyomori the chief of the Tairas died, and from that time their fortunes declined. In 1183 they were forced to flee from Kyoto, carrying with them the infant Emperor. After many hardships and wanderings they camped on the shores of Suma, where they were protected by their fleet. Early in 1184 the Minamotos attacked and utterly routed them at the Battle of Ichi-no-Tani, near the woods of Ikuta. At this battle fell Atsumori, the nephew of Kiyomori, and his brother Tsunemasa. When Kumagai, who had slain Atsumori, bent over him to examine the body, he found lying beside him a bamboo-flute wrapped in brocade. He took the flute and gave it to his son. The bay of Suma is associated in the mind of a Japanese reader not only with this battle but also with the stories of Prince Genji and Prince Yukihira. (See p. 226.) ATSUMORIBy SEAMI PERSONS
PRIEST. Life is a lying dream, he only wakes Who casts the World aside. I am Kumagai no Naozane, a man of the country of Musashi. I have left my home and call myself the priest Rensei; this I have done because of my grief at the death of Atsumori, who fell in battle by my hand. Hence it comes that I am dressed in priestly guise. And now I am going down to Ichi-no-Tani to pray for the salvation of Atsumori’s soul. (He walks slowly across the stage, singing a song descriptive of his journey.) I have come so fast that here I am already at Ichi-no-Tani, in the country of Tsu. Truly the past returns to my mind as though it were a thing of to-day. But listen! I hear the sound of a flute coming from a knoll of rising ground. I will wait here till the flute-player passes, and ask him to tell me the story of this place. REAPERS (together). To the music of the reaper’s flute No song is sung But the sighing of wind in the fields. YOUNG REAPER. They that were reaping, Reaping on that hill, Homeward, for it is dusk. REAPERS (together). Short is the way that leads From the sea of Suma back to my home. This little journey, up to the hill And down to the shore again, and up to the hill,— This is my life, and the sum of hateful tasks. If one should ask me I too That on the shores of Suma I live in sadness. Yet if any guessed my name, Then might I too have friends. But now from my deep misery Even those that were dearest Are grown estranged. Here must I dwell abandoned To one thought’s anguish: That I must dwell here. PRIEST. Hey, you reapers! I have a question to ask you. YOUNG REAPER. Is it to us you are speaking? What do you wish to know? PRIEST. Was it one of you who was playing on the flute just now? YOUNG REAPER. Yes, it was we who were playing. PRIEST. It was a pleasant sound, and all the pleasanter because one does not look for such music from men of your condition. YOUNG REAPER. Unlooked for from men of our condition, you say! Have you not read:— Nor despise what is below you”? Moreover the songs of woodmen and the flute-playing of herdsmen, Flute-playing even of reapers and songs of wood-fellers Through poets’ verses are known to all the world. Wonder not to hear among us The sound of a bamboo-flute. PRIEST. You are right. Indeed it is as you have told me. Songs of woodmen and flute-playing of herdsmen ... REAPER. Flute-playing of reapers ... PRIEST. Songs of wood-fellers ... REAPERS. Guide us on our passage through this sad world. PRIEST. Song ... REAPER. And dance ... PRIEST. And the flute ... REAPER. And music of many instruments ... CHORUS. These are the pastimes that each chooses to his taste. Of floating bamboo-wood Many are the famous flutes that have been made; Little-Branch and Cicada-Cage, And as for the reaper’s flute, Its name is Green-leaf; On the shore of Sumiyoshi The Corean flute they play. On Stick of the Salt-kilns The fishers blow their tune. PRIEST. How strange it is! The other reapers have all gone home, but you alone stay loitering here. How is that? REAPER. How is it, you ask? I am seeking for a prayer in the voice of the evening waves. Perhaps you will pray the Ten Prayers for me? PRIEST. I can easily pray the Ten Prayers for you, if you will tell me who you are. REAPER. To tell you the truth—I am one of the family of Lord Atsumori. PRIEST. One of Atsumori’s family? How glad I am! Then the priest joined his hands (he kneels down) and prayed:— NAMU AMIDABU. Praise to Amida Buddha! “If I attain to Buddhahood, In the whole world and its ten spheres Of all that dwell here none shall call on my name And be rejected or cast aside.” CHORUS. “Oh, reject me not! One cry suffices for salvation, Yet day and night Your prayers will rise for me. Happy am I, for though you know not my name, Yet for my soul’s deliverance At dawn and dusk henceforward I know that you will pray.” So he spoke. Then vanished and was seen no more. (Here follows the Interlude between the two Acts, in which a recitation concerning Atsumori’s death takes place. These PRIEST. Since this is so, I will perform all night the rites of prayer for the dead, and calling upon Amida’s name will pray again for the salvation of Atsumori. (The ghost of ATSUMORI appears, dressed as a young warrior.) ATSUMORI. Would you know who I am That like the watchmen at Suma Pass Have wakened at the cry of sea-birds roaming Upon Awaji shore? Listen, Rensei. I am Atsumori. PRIEST. How strange! All this while I have never stopped beating my gong and performing the rites of the Law. I cannot for a moment have dozed, yet I thought that Atsumori was standing before me. Surely it was a dream. ATSUMORI. Why need it be a dream? It is to clear the karma of my waking life that I am come here in visible form before you. PRIEST. Is it not written that one prayer will wipe away ten thousand sins? Ceaselessly I have performed the ritual of the Holy Name that clears all sin away. After such prayers, what evil can be left? Though you should be sunk in sin as deep ... ATSUMORI. As the sea by a rocky shore, Yet should I be salved by prayer. PRIEST. And that my prayers should save you ... ATSUMORI. This too must spring PRIEST. Once enemies ... ATSUMORI. But now ... PRIEST. In truth may we be named ... ATSUMORI. Friends in Buddha’s Law. CHORUS. There is a saying, “Put away from you a wicked friend; summon to your side a virtuous enemy.” For you it was said, and you have proven it true. And now come tell with us the tale of your confession, while the night is still dark. CHORUS. He Mount the tree-top that men may raise their eyes And walk on upward paths; He bids the moon in autumn waves be drowned In token that he visits laggard men And leads them out from valleys of despair. ATSUMORI. Now the clan of Taira, building wall to wall, Spread over the earth like the leafy branches of a great tree: CHORUS. Yet their prosperity lasted but for a day; It was like the flower of the convolvulus. There was none to tell them And after,—darkness. Oh wretched, the life of men! ATSUMORI. When they were on high they afflicted the humble; When they were rich they were reckless in pride. And so for twenty years and more They ruled this land. But truly a generation passes like the space of a dream. The leaves of the autumn of Juyei Were tossed by the four winds; Scattered, scattered (like leaves too) floated their ships. And they, asleep on the heaving sea, not even in dreams Went back to home. Caged birds longing for the clouds,— Wild geese were they rather, whose ranks are broken As they fly to southward on their doubtful journey. So days and months went by; Spring came again And for a little while Here dwelt they on the shore of Suma At the first valley. From the mountain behind us the winds blew down Till the fields grew wintry again. Our ships lay by the shore, where night and day The sea-gulls cried and salt waves washed on our sleeves. We slept with fishers in their huts On pillows of sand. We knew none but the people of Suma. And when among the pine-trees The evening smoke was rising, Brushwood, as they call it, Brushwood we gathered And spread for carpet. Sorrowful we lived On the wild shore of Suma, Till the clan Taira and all its princes Were but villagers of Suma. ATSUMORI. But on the night of the sixth day of the second month My father Tsunemori gathered us together. “To-morrow,” he said, “we shall fight our last fight. To-night is all that is left us.” We sang songs together, and danced. PRIEST. Yes, I remember; we in our siege-camp Heard the sound of music Echoing from your tents that night; There was the music of a flute ... ATSUMORI. The bamboo-flute! I wore it when I died. PRIEST. We heard the singing ... ATSUMORI. Songs and ballads ... PRIEST. Many voices ATSUMORI. Singing to one measure. (ATSUMORI dances.) First comes the Royal Boat. CHORUS. The whole clan has put its boats to sea. He He runs to the shore. But the Royal Boat and the soldiers’ boats Have sailed far away. ATSUMORI. What can he do? He spurs his horse into the waves. He is full of perplexity. And then CHORUS. He looks behind him and sees That Kumagai pursues him; He cannot escape. Then Atsumori turns his horse Knee-deep in the lashing waves, And draws his sword. Twice, three times he strikes; then, still saddled, In close fight they twine; roll headlong together Among the surf of the shore. So Atsumori fell and was slain, but now the Wheel of Fate Has turned and brought him back. (ATSUMORI rises from the ground and advances toward the PRIEST with uplifted sword.) “There is my enemy,” he cries, and would strike, But the other is grown gentle And calling on Buddha’s name Has obtained salvation for his foe; So that they shall be re-born together On one lotus-seat. “No, Rensei is not my enemy. Pray for me again, oh pray for me again.” IKUTABy ZEMBO MOTOYASU (1453-1532) PERSONS
PRIEST. I am one that serves Honen Shonin of Kurodani; and as for this child here,—once when Honen was on a visit to the Temple of Kamo he saw a box lying under a trailing fir-tree; and when he raised the lid, what should he find inside but a lovely man-child one year old! It did not seem to be more than a common foundling, but my master in his compassion took the infant home with him. Ever since then he has had it in his care, doing all that was needful for it; and now the boy is over ten years old. But it is a hard thing to have no father or mother, so one day after his preaching the Shonin told the child’s story. And sure enough a young woman stepped out from among the hearers and said it was her child. And when he took her aside and questioned her, he found that the child’s father was Taira no Atsumori, who had fallen in battle at Ichi-no-Tani years ago. When the boy was told of this, he longed earnestly to see his father’s face, were it but in a dream, and the Shonin bade him go and pray at the shrine of Kamo. He was to go every day for a week, and this is the last day. That is why I have brought him out with me. But here we are at the Kamo shrine. Pray well, boy, pray well! BOY. How fills my heart with awe When I behold the crimson palisade Of this abode of gods! Oh may my heart be clean And the God’s kindness deep As its unfathomed waters. Show to me, Though it were but in dream, My father’s face and form. Is not my heart so ground away with prayer, So smooth that it will slip Unfelt into the favour of the gods? But thou too, Censor of our prayers, God of Tadasu, That what I crave may be! How strange! While I was praying I fell half-asleep and had a wonderful dream. PRIEST. Tell me your wonderful dream. BOY. A strange voice spoke to me from within the Treasure Hall, saying, “If you are wanting, though it were but in a dream, to see your father’s face, go down from here to the woods of Ikuta in the country of Settsu.” That is the marvellous dream I had. PRIEST. It is indeed a wonderful message that the God has sent you. And why should I go back at once to Kurodani? I had best take you straight to the forest of Ikuta. Let us be going. PRIEST (describing the journey). From the shrine of Kamo, From under the shadow of the hills, We set out swiftly; Past Yamazaki to the fog-bound Shores of MinasÉ; And onward where the gale Tears travellers’ coats and winds about their bones. “Autumn has come to woods where yesterday To Settsu, to those woods of Ikuta Lo! We are come. We have gone so fast that here we are already at the woods of Ikuta in the country of Settsu. I have heard tell in the Capital of the beauty of these woods and the river that runs through them. But what I see now surpasses all that I have heard. Look! Those meadows must be the Downs of Ikuta. Let us go nearer and admire them. But while we have been going about looking at one view and another, the day has dusked. I think I see a light over there. There must be a house. Let us go to it and ask for lodging. ATSUMORI (speaking from inside a hut). Beauty, perception, knowledge, motion, consciousness,— The Five Attributes of Being,— All are vain mockery. How comes it that men prize So weak a thing as body? For the soul that guards it from corruption Suddenly to the night-moon flies, And the poor naked ghost wails desolate In the autumn wind. Oh! I am lonely. I am lonely! PRIEST. How strange! Inside that grass-hut I see a young soldier dressed in helmet and breastplate. What can he be doing there? ATSUMORI. Oh foolish men, was it not to meet me that you came to this place? I am—oh! I am ashamed to say it,—I am the ghost of what once was ... Atsumori. BOY. Atsumori? My father ... CHORUS. And lightly he ran, And though his tears might seem like the long woe Of nightingales that weep, Yet were they tears of meeting-joy, Of happiness too great for human heart. So think we, yet oh that we might change This fragile dream of joy Into the lasting love of waking life! ATSUMORI. Oh pitiful! To see this child, born after me, Darling that should be gay as a flower, Walking in tattered coat of old black cloth. Alas! Child, when your love of me Led you to Kamo shrine, praying to the God That, though but in a dream, You might behold my face, The God of Kamo, full of pity, came To Yama, king of Hell. King Yama listened and ordained for me A moment’s respite, but hereafter, never. CHORUS. “The moon is sinking. Come while the night is dark,” he said, “I will tell my tale.” ATSUMORI. When the house of Taira was in its pride, When its glory was young, Among the flowers we sported, Among birds, wind and moonlight; With pipes and strings, with song and verse We welcomed Springs and Autumns. Till at last, because our time was come, Across the bridges of Kiso a host unseen Swept and devoured us. Then the whole clan Fled from the City of Flowers. By paths untrodden To the Western Sea our journey brought us. Lakes and hills we crossed Till we ourselves grew to be like wild men. At last by mountain ways— We too tossed hither and thither like its waves— To Suma came we, To the First Valley and the woods of Ikuta. And now while all of us, We children of Taira, were light of heart Because our homes were near, Suddenly our foes in great strength appeared. CHORUS. Noriyori, Yoshitsune,—their hosts like clouds, Like mists of spring. For a little while we fought them, But the day of our House was ended, Our hearts weakened That had been swift as arrows from the bowstring. We scattered, scattered; till at last To the deep waters of the Field of Life We came, but how we found there Death, not Life, What profit were it to tell? ATSUMORI. Who is that? (Pointing in terror at a figure which he sees off the stage.) Can it be Yama’s messenger? He comes to tell me that I have out-stayed my time. The Lord of Hell is angry: he asks why I am late? CHORUS. So he spoke. But behold Suddenly black clouds rise, Earth and sky resound with the clash of arms; Flash fierce sparks from brandished spears. ATSUMORI. The Shura foes who night and day Come thick about me! CHORUS. He waves his sword and rushes among them, Hither and thither he runs slashing furiously; Fire glints upon the steel. But in a little while The dark clouds recede; The demons have vanished, The moon shines unsullied; The sky is ready for dawn. ATSUMORI. Oh! I am ashamed.... And the child to see me so.... CHORUS. “To see my misery! I must go back. Oh pray for me; pray for me When I am gone,” he said, And weeping, weeping, Dropped the child’s hand. He has faded; he dwindles Like the dew from rush-leaves Of hazy meadows. His form has vanished. TSUNEMASABy SEAMI PERSONS
GYOKEI. I am Gyokei, priest of the imperial temple Ninnaji. You must know that there was a certain prince of the House of Taira named Tsunemasa, Lord of Tajima, who since his boyhood has enjoyed beyond all precedent the favour of our master the Emperor. But now he has been killed at the Battle of the Western Seas. It was to this Tsunemasa in his lifetime that the Emperor had given the lute called Green Hill. And now my master bids me take it and dedicate it to Buddha, performing a liturgy of flutes and strings for the salvation of Tsunemasa’s soul. And that was my purpose in gathering these musicians together. Truly it is said that strangers who shelter under the same tree or draw water from the same pool will be friends in another life. How much the more must intercourse of many years, kindness and favour so deep ... CHORUS. And, more than all, we dedicate The lute Green Hill for this dead man; For night and day the Gate of Law Stands open and the Universal Road Rejects no wayfarer. TSUNEMASA (speaking off the stage). “The wind blowing through withered trees: rain from a cloudless sky. The moon shining on level sands: frost on a summer’s night.” Frost lying ... but I, because I could not lie at rest, Am come back to the World for a while, Like a shadow that steals over the grass. I am like dews that in the morning Still cling to the grasses. Oh pitiful the longing That has beset me! GYOKEI. How strange! Within the flame of our candle that is burning low because the night is far spent, suddenly I seemed to see a man’s shadow dimly appearing. Who can be here? TSUNEMASA (his shadow disappearing). I am the ghost of Tsunemasa. The sound of your prayers has brought me in visible shape before you. GYOKEI. “I am the ghost of Tsunemasa,” he said, but when I looked to where the voice had sounded nothing was there, neither substance nor shadow! TSUNEMASA. Only a voice, GYOKEI. A dim voice whispers where the shadow of a man Visibly lay, but when I looked TSUNEMASA. It had vanished— GYOKEI. This flickering form ... TSUNEMASA. Like haze over the fields. CHORUS. Only as a tricking magic, A bodiless vision, Can he hover in the world of his lifetime, Swift-changing Tsunemasa. By this name we call him, yet of the body That men named so, what is left but longing? What but the longing to look again, through the wall of death, On one he loved? “Sooner shall the waters in its garden cease to flow Than I grow weary of living in the Palace of my Lord.” Like a dream he has come, Like a morning dream. GYOKEI. How strange! When the form of Tsunemasa had vanished, his voice lingered and spoke to me! Am I dreaming or waking? I cannot tell. But this I know,—that by the power of my incantations I have had converse with the dead. Oh! marvellous potency of the Law! TSUNEMASA. It was long ago that I came to the Palace. I was but a boy then, but all the world knew me; for I was marked with the love of our Lord, with the favour of an Emperor. And, among many gifts, he gave to me once while I was in the World this lute which you have dedicated. My fingers were ever on its strings. CHORUS. Plucking them even as now This music plucks at your heart; The sound of the plectrum, then as now Divine music fulfilling But this Tsunemasa, Was he not from the days of his childhood pre-eminent In faith, wisdom, benevolence, Honour and courtesy; yet for his pleasure Ever of birds and flowers, Of wind and moonlight making Ballads and songs to join their harmony To pipes and lutes? So springs and autumns passed he. But in a World that is as dew, As dew on the grasses, as foam upon the waters, What flower lasteth? GYOKEI. For the dead man’s sake we play upon this lute Green Hill that he loved when he was in the World. We follow the lute-music with a concord of many instruments. (Music.) TSUNEMASA. And while they played the dead man stole up behind them. Though he could not be seen by the light of the candle, they felt him pluck the lute-strings.... GYOKEI. It is midnight. He is playing Yabanraku, the dance of midnight-revel. And now that we have shaken sleep from our eyes ... TSUNEMASA. The sky is clear, yet there is a sound as of sudden rain.... GYOKEI. Rain beating carelessly on trees and grasses. What season’s music TSUNEMASA. No. It is not rain. Look! At the cloud’s fringe CHORUS. The moon undimmed Hangs over the pine-woods of Narabi It was the wind you heard; The wind blowing through the pine-leaves Pattered, like the falling of winter rain. O wonderful hour! “The big strings crashed and sobbed Like the falling of winter rain. And the little strings whispered secretly together. The first and second string Were like a wind sweeping through pine-woods, Murmuring disjointedly. The third and fourth string Were like the voice of a caged stork Crying for its little ones at night In low, dejected notes.” The night must not cease. The cock shall not crow And put an end to his wandering. TSUNEMASA. “One note of the phoenix-flute CHORUS. Shakes the autumn clouds from the mountain-side.” The phoenix and his mate swoop down Charmed by its music, beat their wings And dance in rapture, perched upon the swaying boughs Of kiri and bamboo. (Dance.) TSUNEMASA. Oh terrible anguish! For a little while I was back in the World and my heart set on its music, on revels of midnight. But now the hate is rising in me.... GYOKEI. The shadow that we saw before is still visible. Can it be Tsunemasa? TSUNEMASA. Oh! I am ashamed; I must not let them see me. Put out your candle. CHORUS. “Let us turn away from the candle and watch together The midnight moon.” Lo, he who holds the moon, The god Indra, in battle appeareth Warring upon demons. Fire leaps from their swords, The sparks of their own anger fall upon them like rain. To wound another he draws his sword, But it is from his own flesh That the red waves flow; Like flames they cover him. “Oh, I am ashamed of the woes that consume me. No man must see me. I will put out the candle!” he said; For a foolish man is like a summer moth that flies into the flame. The wind that blew out the candle Carried him away. In the darkness his ghost has vanished. The shadow of his ghost has vanished. |
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