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PREFACE	v
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS	vii
TO THE READER	1
THE MAIDEN’S TOMB	35
KAGEKIYO	53
TAMURA	70
THE SUMIDA RIVER	76
ENGLISH BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE NŌ.

PLAYS OF OLD JAPAN
THE NŌ
BY MARIE C. STOPES

[ii]

AN ACTOR OF THE NŌ IN FULL COSTUME

TADANORI

Tadanori

This plate, taken from a Japanese coloured woodcut, illustrates well the voluminous nature of the mediæval ceremonial garments. The figure is that of an ancient warrior of the Taira clan, to which Kagekiyo belonged (see p. 53), who was noted also for the high quality of his poetry. He composed a special verse, which he fastened in an arrow that he always carried in his quiver, and that proved to be the means of identification when he was found by his enemies, dead in the field of battle. In the illustration one may particularly note the mask, with the eyebrows painted so high on the forehead that they are above the fillet band. The feet are not bare, but are covered with the white tabi, or cotton boots with soft soles and a separate division for the big toe, in which the Nō dancers always perform their parts.

This plate, taken from a Japanese colored woodcut, illustrates well the voluminous nature of the medieval ceremonial garments. The figure is that of an ancient warrior of the Taira clan, to which Kagekiyo belonged (see p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__), who was also known for the high quality of his poetry. He composed a special verse, which he attached to an arrow he always carried in his quiver, and that served as his identification when his enemies found him dead on the battlefield. In the illustration, you can particularly note the mask, with the eyebrows painted so high on the forehead that they are above the fillet band. The feet are not bare but are covered with white tabi, or cotton boots with soft soles and a separate section for the big toe, which No dancers always wear during performances.

[iii]

PLAYS OF OLD JAPAN
THE ‘NŌ’

BY
MARIE C. STOPES
D.Sc., Ph.D., F.L.S.

TOGETHER WITH TRANSLATIONS OF THE DRAMAS BY M. C. STOPES
AND
PROFESSOR JOJI SAKURAI
D.Sc., LL.D.

WITH A PREFACE BY HIS EXCELLENCY
BARON KATO
THE JAPANESE AMBASSADOR

ILLUSTRATED

IMAGE

LONDON MCMXIII
WILLIAM HEINEMANN

LONDON 1913
WILLIAM HEINEMANN

[iv]

[v]

Copyright and all translation and dramatic right reserved by Marie C. Stopes

Copyright and all translation and dramatic rights reserved by Marie C. Stopes

PREFACE

By His Excellency the Japanese Ambassador

The utai does not appeal to the uneducated, and for that reason its devotees have practically been confined to the gentle and aristocratic classes. In the days before the educational system of Japan was established on Western lines, boys of the Samurai class in many parts of the country were taught to chant the utai in their schools as a part of their curriculum, the object being to ennoble their character by imbuing them with the spirit of the olden times, and also to provide for them a healthy means of recreation in their manhood. Along with many other institutions, it declined in favour in consequence of the great social and political upheaval which ushered in the era of Meiji; and for some time afterwards the people were too much occupied with various material aspects of life to find any leisure for the cultivation of the art, so much so that its professional exponents, meeting with no public support, had to give up the forlorn attempt to continue their task and to look elsewhere for a means of earning their livelihood.

The utai doesn't attract those who are uneducated, which is why its followers have mostly been from the upper and aristocratic classes. Before Japan's educational system was reformed along Western lines, boys from the Samurai class in many areas were taught to chant the utai as part of their school curriculum. The goal was to elevate their character by connecting them with the spirit of earlier times and to give them a healthy outlet for recreation in their adulthood. However, like many other institutions, it declined during the significant social and political changes that marked the beginning of the Meiji era. For a while afterward, people were too focused on various material concerns to find time to nurture the art. Because of this lack of public interest, professional practitioners had to abandon their efforts to continue and seek other ways to make a living.

With the consolidation of the new régime many old things took a new lease of life, the utai being one of them. Not only has the utai revived, but those who ought to know say that never in the long history of its existence has it been so extensively patronised as it is to-day. Patrons of the art are by no means confined to the aristocratic classes, albeit it is not so popular as[vi] the ordinary theatrical play, and never could be from the nature of the thing.

With the establishment of the new regime, many old customs have come back to life, the utai being one of them. Not only has the utai made a comeback, but experts say that it has never been as popular in its long history as it is today. Supporters of the art are not limited to the aristocracy, although it is still less popular than [vi] the typical theatrical performance, and it likely never will be due to the nature of the art form.

This book will, therefore, well repay study on the part of any one desirous of knowing and appreciating the working of the Japanese mind, and the author and her colleague are rendering a good service to the public of the West by initiating them into the subject. As the author frankly admits, to translate the utai into a European language is a most difficult task, and, in my opinion, it is a well-nigh impossible one. The meaning of the original may be conveyed—its spirit to a certain extent—but never the peculiarities of the original language, on which the beauty of the utai mainly rests. It was very brave of Dr. Marie Stopes and Prof. Sakurai to undertake what I should deem an impossible task, and I am glad to be able to extend to them my sincere congratulations on their remarkable achievement. They have succeeded in their work to the best extent any one can hope to succeed, and in my opinion have placed Western students of Japanese art and literature under a debt of gratitude to them.

This book will definitely be worth the time for anyone eager to understand and appreciate how the Japanese mind works. The author and her colleague are providing an invaluable service to the Western public by introducing them to the subject. As the author honestly states, translating the utai into a European language is extremely challenging, and in my opinion, nearly impossible. The essence of the original can be communicated—its spirit to some degree—but the unique qualities of the original language, which are crucial to the beauty of the utai, can never be fully captured. It was very brave of Dr. Marie Stopes and Prof. Sakurai to take on what I would consider an unattainable task, and I’m pleased to offer them my heartfelt congratulations on their outstanding achievement. They have accomplished their work to the fullest extent anyone could hope for, and I believe they have placed Western students of Japanese art and literature in their debt.

Takaaki Kato.

Japanese Embassy, London.
November 1912.

Japanese Embassy, London.
November 1912.

[vii]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

To face page
TADANORI	Frontispiece
VIEW OF THE NŌ STAGE	10
A COUNTRY POETESS	14
MIIDERA	16
SŌSHIARI-GOMACHI	24
THE MAIDEN’S TOMB	38
SUMIDAGAWA	76

[viii]
[1]

TO THE READER

Their poetry is the expressed essence of the Japanese. It represents them as the Victory of Samothrace represents the people of Greece, as the scent represents the rose. Chamberlain says, “The one original product of the Japanese mind is the native poetry”—their painting, their porcelain, their ceremonials, are modifications of Chinese classics, but their poetry is their very own. Among the greatest and most characteristic treasures of the native literature, the Japanese rank their ancient “lyric dramas,” the Nō. As Synge and the Irish poets speak for the Irish people the things that matter most to them and that yet go all unexpressed in their outward life, in the same sense, only to a greater extent, do the Nō dramas represent the old spirit of Japan.

Their poetry captures the true essence of Japan. It reflects them just as the Victory of Samothrace reflects the people of Greece, or as scent captures the essence of a rose. Chamberlain states, “The one original product of the Japanese mind is their native poetry”—their painting, porcelain, and ceremonies are adaptations of Chinese classics, but their poetry is uniquely theirs. Among the greatest and most distinctive treasures of their literature, the Japanese value their ancient “lyric dramas,” the Nō. Just as Synge and the Irish poets express what matters most to the Irish people, often unspoken in their everyday lives, the Nō dramas convey the ancient spirit of Japan to an even greater extent.

In Japanese the texts of the Nō dramas, all of which were written before the sixteenth century, are collected in a great work, the Yokyoku Tsukai, in which various editions give as many as two hundred and thirty-five to two hundred and sixty-two utai, as the librettos of the Nō are called. Yet these treasures are practically unknown to the reading public of the West, notwithstanding the interest that has been taken in “things Japanese.” Scholars certainly have paid them some attention, and a few utai have been rendered into English, but in most cases these translations are such as appeal primarily to scholars, and do not reach the wider public. Chamberlain’s Classical Poetry of the Japanese, in which some of the utai find a place, is perhaps the only exception to the general statement that no rendering of any of[2] these plays has yet been made which is calculated to win those readers who do not delve in the Transactions of learned societies nor read transliterated texts in weighty volumes, but who, nevertheless, delight in the great literatures of the world.

In Japanese, the texts of the Nō dramas, all written before the sixteenth century, are gathered in a significant work called the Yokyoku Tsukai, which includes various editions listing between two hundred and thirty-five and two hundred and sixty-two utai, the librettos of the Nō. However, these treasures are mostly unknown to the reading public in the West, despite the growing interest in “things Japanese.” Scholars have certainly given them some attention, and a few utai have been translated into English, but most of these translations primarily cater to academics and don’t reach a broader audience. Chamberlain’s Classical Poetry of the Japanese, which includes some utai, is perhaps the only exception to the general observation that no version of these plays has been created to attract readers who aren’t engaged in the Transactions of scholarly societies or don’t read transliterated texts in dense volumes, but who still enjoy the great literatures of the world.

One of the reasons for this is certainly the extreme remoteness of the subject from everything to which we are accustomed, and the difficulty of translating into our own the obscure language of these mediæval texts.

One of the reasons for this is definitely the extreme distance of the subject from everything we’re used to, and the challenge of translating the obscure language of these medieval texts into our own.

All students of Japanese are agreed about the excessive difficulty of making any rendering from the utai which combines fidelity to the original with lucidity in a European language.

All students of Japanese agree that it's extremely difficult to create a translation from the utai that maintains faithfulness to the original while also being clear in a European language.

Yet these old plays are unique, exquisite, individual, and so full of charm that it is a great loss to the Western world that they should be entirely removed from our ken by being hedged in and shut away from us by the difficulties of language. It is clearly some one’s duty to translate, not merely the words of these plays, but their meaning and spirit, so that the Western public may have partial access at least to the source that delights, and has delighted for centuries, the best minds of our Allies in the East. No translation can ever convey more than a fraction of the power, beauty, and individual characteristics of the original, but it is my hope that there may be found between these covers something of the delicacy and charm of the Nō, some hint of their peculiar flavour and effect. If this consummation is in any single case achieved by this book, it will be, I fancy, only after the whole of it has been read and laid down; when a faint spirit of the Nō may take shape in the reader’s mind.

Yet these old plays are unique, exquisite, individual, and so full of charm that it's a huge loss for the Western world that they are completely removed from our view because of the challenges posed by the language. It's clearly someone's responsibility to translate not just the words of these plays, but their meaning and spirit, so that the Western audience can at least have some access to the source that has delighted the best minds of our Eastern Allies for centuries. No translation can ever capture more than a fraction of the power, beauty, and unique qualities of the original, but I hope that within these pages, there might be something of the delicacy and charm of the Nō, a hint of their distinctive flavor and impact. If this goal is achieved in any instance by this book, I believe it will only be after reading it all and putting it down, when a faint essence of the Nō may take shape in the reader's mind.

[3]

Mountains blue in the distance before which we stand enthralled are composed of grey rough stone and broken screes when viewed at nearer quarters—yet we enjoy not less the illusory blue. The words of a stirring poem that wafts us into a fairy land of dreams are each one commonplace enough, and each can be reduced to its elements, a, b, c, d, e,—twenty-six of them, which can be ranged in a straight line.

Mountains appear blue from a distance, and as we stand captivated, we see they are made of rough grey stone and jagged scree when we're closer—yet we still appreciate the deceptive blue. The lines of an inspiring poem that transport us to a magical world of dreams are all quite ordinary, and each can be broken down into its basic elements, a, b, c, d, e,—twenty-six of them, which can be arranged in a straight line.

And so it is with the Nō. They must not be too much analysed and inquired into. Their language is simple, almost to baldness in places, it is true, but their simple elements create a wonderland of illusion. In Japanese they have the power to make the spirit soar into the borders of the enchanted regions of romance; and when acted the plays make one ache with Weltschmerz in a way that shows that their place is among the great things of our world, elemental in their simplicity. Then it must not be forgotten that the text of the drama as presented is accompanied by music, and is chanted by highly trained actors in a beautiful setting. Who would think of judging Wagner from the texts of his librettos alone, and of ignoring his power as a scene creator and a musician? The texts of the Nō are largely prosy, if you will. Mr. Sansom recently censured me, and with me the leading Japanese authorities on the subject, for our appreciation of the poetry of the Nō. He would have us believe that the steady popularity of these plays for six hundred years among the leading men of the country, from priests and poets to princes and warriors, is due to over-estimation, and that they are, after all, mostly prose of no high quality. In a language so widely diverging[4] from our own in its construction and mode of thought as Japanese, the details of the literary style and composition are beyond reach of my judgment. As the Japanese for so long have been consistent in their admiration of the literary construction of the Nō, I am content in that matter to accept their verdict. But of the atmosphere and general effect of the plays I can judge for myself, and I find them among the supremely great things in world-literature. That Mr. Sansom does not, depends on his own taste in the matter. I have, in these modern days of unshackled opinion, heard people openly announce that they saw nothing in Shakespeare! I fancy that if we could translate literally into the English language the song of the nightingale to its mate, it would be found to be largely composed of mundane affairs and prosy gossip about its neighbours, the weather and the marauding school-boy. But is it to us any the less romantic and glorious in association? There is a focal distance for every work of art, and if we choose to overstep it and go and rub our noses against the canvas of supreme genius, we will only find smeary paint and an unpleasant odour. So, acknowledging the prosy elements in the texts of the Nō I have attempted to render, I present them in the hope that there will be some readers who will see through the shrouding veils of a foreign language something of the features of the eternal loveliness of the original. My great regret is the imperfections of my handling of these delicate fantasies. But with the exceptional knowledge and gifts of my collaborator in the translations, Prof. Sakurai, the standard of detailed accuracy has been kept up to a point which[5] will, I trust, make these translations not entirely unworthy of a scholar’s perusal (but see p. 32); nevertheless, the reader whom my heart desires is not one to take too close an inspection of each detail, but one who will catch the spirit of the whole. None of the four plays that follow have been translated by any one else,[1] so far as I can discover; so that, as they break new ground for it, the public will perhaps be lenient and sympathetic towards these efforts.

And so it is with the Nō. They shouldn't be overly analyzed or scrutinized. Their language is straightforward, even a bit bare at times, but these simple elements create a magical world of illusion. In Japanese, they have the ability to lift the spirit into the enchanting realms of romance; and when performed, the plays stir feelings of Weltschmerz, demonstrating their rightful place among the great things in our world, elemental in their simplicity. It must also be remembered that the drama's text is accompanied by music and chanted by highly trained actors in a beautiful setting. Who would think of judging Wagner solely by the texts of his librettos while ignoring his talent as a scene creator and composer? The texts of the Nō are largely prose, if you look at them that way. Mr. Sansom recently criticized me, along with leading Japanese experts on the subject, for our appreciation of the poetry in the Nō. He wants us to believe that the enduring popularity of these plays for six hundred years among the country's leading figures, from priests and poets to princes and warriors, is due to over-estimation and that they are mostly prose of little quality. In a language as fundamentally different from our own in its structure and thought process as Japanese, the details of the literary style and composition go beyond my ability to judge. Since the Japanese have consistently admired the literary construction of the Nō for so long, I'm content to accept their verdict on this matter. However, I can judge the atmosphere and overall effect of the plays for myself, and I find them among the most outstanding works in world literature. That Mr. Sansom does not appreciate them is based on his own taste. In these modern times of free opinions, I've heard people openly say they see nothing in Shakespeare! I imagine if we could literally translate the nightingale's song to its mate into English, it would mostly consist of mundane matters and prosy gossip about its neighbors, the weather, and the mischief of schoolboys. But does that make it any less romantic and glorious to us? There is a focal distance for every piece of art, and if we choose to step too close and press our noses against the canvas of supreme genius, we’ll only find smeary paint and an unpleasant smell. So, acknowledging the prose elements in the Nō texts that I have tried to adapt, I present them in the hope that some readers will see through the veils of a foreign language and catch glimpses of the timeless beauty of the original. My greatest regret is the imperfections in my handling of these delicate works. However, thanks to the exceptional knowledge and skills of my collaborator in the translations, Prof. Sakurai, the level of accuracy has been maintained at a point which I hope will make these translations worthy of scholarly attention (but see p. 32); nevertheless, the reader I truly hope for is someone who won’t scrutinize every detail too closely, but will grasp the spirit of the whole. None of the four plays that follow have been translated by anyone else,[1] as far as I can tell; therefore, since they break new ground, the public may be lenient and sympathetic towards these efforts.

Concerning the Place the Nō takes in Japan to-day

In Japan to-day there still lingers much of the old aristocratic scorn of the common theatre, but the theatres which are dedicated to the performance of the Nō have no such stigma attached to them. Indeed, these performances are almost entirely supported by the gentle and aristocratic classes. The interest of intellectual men in these plays is not even satisfied with on-looking, and many of the leading men of the day in Tokio—lawyers, university professors, statesmen and aristocrats—study the chants and songs and give private recitals of them. A few even undertake the arduous training necessary to act a complete part, including the “dancing,” and then the gentlemen are[6] proud to appear with distinguished professionals. The only comparable enthusiasm in our country is that of the Shakespeare societies; but even to act, and act well, a part in a Shakespeare play requires an amount of application trivial in comparison with that necessary completely to master a rôle in one of the Nō. For in “singing” the utai not only is every minute inflection of the voice prescribed and regulated according to the severest rules, but every movement of the body, every step and movement even of the toes or little fingers in the “dance” that accompanies it, is most strictly governed by an iron tradition, and the secret of some of the parts is only in the hands of a few masters.

In Japan today, there is still a lot of old aristocratic disdain for common theater, but the theaters dedicated to performing Nō do not carry that stigma. In fact, these performances are primarily supported by the upper and aristocratic classes. Intellectuals take such an interest in these plays that many prominent figures in Tokyo—lawyers, university professors, statesmen, and aristocrats—study the chants and songs and hold private recitals. A few even go through the demanding training required to perform a complete role, including the “dancing,” and then these gentlemen take pride in appearing alongside distinguished professionals. The only similar passion in our country is found in Shakespeare societies; however, performing a part in a Shakespeare play, even well, requires far less dedication compared to mastering a role in a Nō. This is because in “singing” the utai, every minute inflection of the voice is carefully prescribed and regulated by strict rules, and every movement of the body, every step, and even the movements of the toes or fingers in the accompanying “dance” are tightly controlled by tradition, with the secrets of some roles only known to a small number of masters.

Mr. Sansom quotes, in an unsympathetic spirit, the opinion of Mr. Tanaka Shohei, but as this opinion represents in substance that of a number of the leading Japanese who interest themselves in the subject, I think it may very well be given as an expression of current opinion of the Nō: “From every point of view it is one of the pre-eminent arts of the world. It is the flower of the Yamato stock. Every art reflects the spirit of a given people at a given time, and, remembering this, we must hold it remarkable that the affections of our people should be retained by an art which arose six hundred years ago. In the West there is no art with such a pedigree. This shows that the Nō represents the national spirit, and is complete in every respect.”

Mr. Sansom quotes, without sympathy, the opinion of Mr. Tanaka Shohei, but since this opinion reflects the views of many prominent Japanese who are interested in the topic, I believe it can be presented as a representation of the current perspective on the Nō: “From every angle, it is one of the top arts in the world. It is a true product of the Yamato heritage. Every art embodies the essence of a specific culture at a specific time, and considering this, it’s remarkable that our people continue to have an attachment to an art that originated six hundred years ago. In the West, there is no art with such a history. This indicates that the Nō embodies the national spirit and is complete in every way.”

A Japanese professor, writing to me, says, “A Nō drama is always very simple in its plot, and it is chiefly its peculiar poetical construction and ring which appeal so much to our emotion and give the charm it pos[7]sesses.” Another opinion is quoted by Mr. Osman Edwards: “The words (of the Nō) are gorgeous, splendid and even magnificent as are the costumes.”

A Japanese professor wrote to me, saying, “A Nō drama always has a very simple plot, and it’s mainly its unique poetic structure and rhythm that resonate so deeply with our emotions and give it the charm it has.” Another viewpoint referenced by Mr. Osman Edwards states, “The words of the Nō are beautiful, striking, and even magnificent, just like the costumes.”

The charm of the Nō is a cumulative one, and its power of conveying much meaning in simple action is largely augmented by the suggestiveness of the interwoven allusions to the classical poems partly quoted or suggested in the words of the texts. Almost every word carries more than its face value, and has been enriched by centuries of usage in innumerable poetical and traditional connections.

The appeal of the Nō is built up over time, and its ability to convey deep meaning through simple actions is significantly enhanced by the subtle references to classical poems that are either quoted or hinted at in the text. Nearly every word holds more meaning than it appears to, having been enriched by centuries of use in countless poetic and traditional contexts.

Concerning the past History of the Nō

The Nō, as they are now preserved, date principally from the fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries, and all of them are prior to the sixteenth century. Their development took place under the Ashikaga Shogunate, particularly in the reign of the Shogun Yoshimitsu (1368-1394), when they soon became exceedingly successful among the nobles. They are to a large extent compounded from much older elements which existed in a more incoherent form prior to the fourteenth century; but they may be described as crystallising and taking their distinctive form under the hands of Kiyotsugu, who lived from 1355 to 1406. It is of great interest to note how closely the dates of our own Chaucer (1340-1400) correspond with those of the great Japanese master. What world-phase brought two such men to the front at the same time in the two island empires, all unknown to each other? Kiyotsugu[8] was the founder of the Nō proper, and one of his pieces is given on p. 39. It is certain that he did not suddenly evolve this type of drama, but took the elements that were to hand and fused them together with the flux of his personal genius. Chief among the material available were the Kagura or pantomime dances which were performed at Shinto festivals on temporary wooden platforms. Direct descendants of these, nearly in their original form, have lingered on till the present day. I have seen performances on the rough temporary platforms, where the actors were gaudily but cheaply decked and where the crowded audience was almost entirely composed of the common people who stood semi-scornful for a few moments, or were detained for a long time while passing on their daily business. The antiquity of such performances can be imagined from the fact that in the Kojiki, which was written in 712 A.D., they were described as being ancient and their origin was associated with the sun goddess. The mythical story of their origin is one of the well-known tales of Japan. The sun goddess, Amaterasu, was offended and retired to a cave, withdrawing her luminous beauty from the world. As may be imagined, this was very inconvenient for every one, including the rest of the gods, who in their distress assembled on the dry bed of the River of Heaven. (This is the Milky Way, and to one who knows the mountain rivers of Japan it gives a very telling little touch, for the dry bed of a Japanese river is a broad curve of round white stones.) They endeavoured in many ways to lure the sun goddess out of her cave, and at last they invented a dance and performed it on the top of an inverted empty tub,[9] which echoed when the dancer stamped. This excited her curiosity, and the goddess was successfully drawn out of her hiding-place, the light of her radiance once more blessed the earth, and all was right again with gods and men. The stamping on the hollow tub is still suggested in the “dancing” of the Nō, where the actor raises his foot and stamps once or twice with force enough to make the specially prepared wooden floor of the stage echo with a characteristic sound.

The Nō performances we have today mostly come from the fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries, all of them predating the sixteenth century. They developed during the Ashikaga Shogunate, especially under Shogun Yoshimitsu (1368-1394), and became incredibly popular among the nobility. They largely incorporate older elements that were more disorganized before the fourteenth century, but they started to take their distinct form under Kiyotsugu, who lived from 1355 to 1406. It’s fascinating to note how closely the timelines of our own Chaucer (1340-1400) align with those of this great Japanese master. What phase in history made two such figures rise to prominence simultaneously in distant island empires, both unaware of the other? Kiyotsugu[8] founded the true Nō theatre, and one of his works can be found on p. 39. He certainly didn’t just create this type of drama out of thin air; he took the available elements and blended them with his unique style. Key among these elements were the Kagura or pantomime dances performed at Shinto festivals on temporary wooden stages. Direct descendants of these dances have survived in nearly their original form to this day. I’ve seen performances on rough, makeshift platforms where the actors wore brightly colored but inexpensive costumes, and the audience, mostly made up of common people, either stood in mild amusement for a few moments or lingered for a while during their daily routines. The age of such performances can be traced back to the Kojiki, written in 712 CE, which described them as ancient and linked their origins to the sun goddess. The mythical story of their beginnings is a well-known Japanese tale. The sun goddess, Amaterasu, got upset and hid away in a cave, taking her brilliant light from the world. This caused great trouble for everyone, including the other gods, who gathered on the dry bed of the River of Heaven. (This refers to the Milky Way, and anyone familiar with Japan’s mountain rivers would find it a vivid detail, as a dry riverbed there consists of a wide curve of smooth white stones.) They tried many ways to lure the sun goddess out, and eventually, they created a dance performed on top of an upside-down empty tub,[9] which echoed when the dancer stamped. This piqued her curiosity, and she finally emerged from her hiding spot, bringing her light back to the earth and restoring harmony among gods and humans. The stamping on the hollow tub is still reflected in the “dancing” of the Nō, where the actor raises their foot and stamps once or twice hard enough to make the specially prepared wooden stage floor resonate with a distinctive sound.

It is quite probable that the actual words of the utai (librettos) of the Nō were partly, if not entirely, written by Buddhist monks, and Kiyotsugu was only responsible for bringing the whole together and stage managing and stereotyping the plays.

It’s very likely that the actual words of the utai (librettos) of the Nō were partly, if not entirely, written by Buddhist monks, and Kiyotsugu was mainly responsible for putting everything together, managing the stage, and shaping the plays.

Following Kiyotsugu, who died in 1406, was his son Motokiyo (one of whose plays will be found on p. 56), who lived from 1373-1455. As well as adding to the number of the actual plays (as many as ninety-three are attributed to him) he greatly improved the music. By the time of his nephew some of the several different schools of Nō interpreters, which are still in existence, had sprung up.

Following Kiyotsugu, who passed away in 1406, was his son Motokiyo (one of whose plays will be found on p. 56), who lived from 1373-1455. In addition to increasing the number of actual plays attributed to him—up to ninety-three—he significantly enhanced the music. By the time of his nephew, various schools of Nō interpreters, which still exist today, had emerged.

The ruling Shoguns paid great attention to the Nō. Kiyotsugu the founder was taken by the Shogun into his immediate service and was even given the rank of a small daimio. Both Hideoshi and Iyeyasu, two of the greatest men in Japanese history, were not only fond of witnessing the plays, but it is reported that they actually took part in them among the actors.

The ruling Shoguns highly valued the Nō. Kiyotsugu, the founder, was brought into direct service by the Shogun and was even granted the rank of a minor daimyo. Both Hideyoshi and Ieyasu, two of the most significant figures in Japanese history, not only enjoyed watching the performances but are also said to have participated in them alongside the actors.

[10]

Concerning the Presentation of the Nō

A single Nō play is not a lengthy performance, the average time for its complete presentation being merely one hour. But a performance of Nō at a theatre generally lasts a whole day (except at special short performances, mostly arranged in connection with festivities), because half-a-dozen pieces are on the programme, and between each is given one of the “mad-words,” or Hiogen, which are short, ludicrous farces, and which serve to relieve the tension of the higher, and generally tragic pieces.

A single Nō play isn’t a long performance; it usually takes only about an hour to present in full. However, a Nō performance at a theater typically lasts all day (unless it’s a special short performance, usually tied to festivals), because there are usually around six pieces in the lineup. Between each piece, they include one of the “mad-words,” or Hiogen, which are short, funny skits that help lighten the mood between the more serious and often tragic pieces.

The Theatre

The theatres, which are specially built for the Nō performances, are smaller than the common theatres. The stage is a square platform, generally measuring about eighteen feet, which stands towards the middle, so that the audience sit on three sides of it. This stage has its own beautifully curved roof, which is separated from the roof over the audience by a slight gap, and is reminiscent of the time when the Nō were performed on the outdoor wooden platforms while the audience stood round in rain or shine. On the stage itself are two pillars of smooth wood, which support its roof (see diagram facing p. 10). The stage is horizontal and is raised a few feet above the ground; it is made of very smooth and peculiarly resonant boarding, which is of special importance in the “dancing,” in the course of which the actor has to stamp at intervals with his shoeless[11] feet and yet to make a loud, though deadened sound. Let us not forget the inverted tub and the sun goddess. This feature of the dancing is not to be despised, for its effectiveness is notable. By the kindness of the Secretary of the Royal Society of Literature I am allowed to reproduce my plan of the Nō stage [2] from their Transactions, so I am tempted to quote also a paragraph describing it. “Leading to the stage is a gallery nine feet wide, along which the actors pass very slowly on their way from the green-room to the stage, and pause at each of the three pine trees stationed along it. A curtain shuts the end of the gallery from the green-room. All the woodwork is unpainted and unstained, though very highly polished, and there is neither scenery nor appliances to break the harmony. The three actual pine trees and a flat painted pine on the wall at the back of the stage are all the ornament there is.” The wood-cut facing p. 10 is an illustration of this stage taken from a Japanese print. It represents an “undress” recital, but shows well the build of the stage itself. The pine tree which is painted on the bare boards at the back is not realistic, but is much conventionalised, with solid emerald green masses of foliage and a twisted trunk. It is like those trees which are seen in symbolic pictures and on ancient ceremonial embroideries such as are used at weddings and at the New Year time. The pine tree, and all it has come to mean to the Japanese as a symbol, is closely associated with the Nō. Deeply interwoven in the national sentiment is the play Takasago, which is the[12] story of the faithful spirits of the pine tree and is perhaps the most important and most beloved of all the Nō.

The theaters designed for Nō performances are smaller than typical theaters. The stage is a square platform, usually around eighteen feet wide, located in the center, allowing the audience to sit on three sides. It features a beautifully curved roof that is slightly separated from the audience's roof, reminiscent of when Nō was performed on outdoor wooden platforms with the audience standing around in any weather. On the stage, there are two smooth wooden pillars supporting the roof (see diagram facing p. 10). The stage is flat and raised a few feet off the ground; it is constructed from very smooth and resonant boards, which are especially important during the "dancing," as the actor must stamp periodically with bare feet to create a loud, yet muted sound. We shouldn't overlook the inverted tub and the sun goddess. This aspect of the dance is significant for its effectiveness. Thanks to the Secretary of the Royal Society of Literature, I can include my design of the Nō stage [2] from their Transactions, so I feel compelled to quote a paragraph describing it. “Leading to the stage is a gallery nine feet wide, where the actors slowly walk from the green room to the stage, stopping at each of the three pine trees placed along the way. A curtain blocks the gallery’s end from the green room. All the wood is unpainted and unstained but very highly polished, and there are no props or scenery to disrupt the harmony. The three actual pine trees and a flat painted pine on the back wall of the stage are all there is for decoration.” The woodcut facing p. 10 is an illustration of this stage taken from a Japanese print. It depicts an “undress” recital but effectively shows the stage’s structure. The painted pine tree on the bare boards at the back is not realistic but highly stylized, featuring solid emerald green foliage and a twisted trunk. It resembles trees seen in symbolic artwork and ancient ceremonial embroidery used at weddings and during New Year celebrations. The pine tree and its significance as a symbol are closely tied to the Nō. The play Takasago, which tells the story of the faithful spirits of the pine tree, is deeply woven into national sentiment and is likely the most important and beloved of all Nō.

Plate 2.

VIEW OF THE NŌ STAGE

Nō Stage View

To the left is the gallery along which the actors enter. On the stage is a figure in ordinary ceremonial dress, not in costume, reciting a piece with the aid only of a fan. Note the beautifully elaborate roof belonging to the stage itself. The pieces of blue sky in the right and centre which break into it, like the clouds in the left foreground, are a conceit of the artist, but the blue sky to the left indicates with verisimilitude the open space surrounding the stage.

To the left is the gallery where the actors come in. On the stage is a person in regular ceremonial attire, not in costume, reciting a piece using just a fan. Check out the beautifully detailed roof of the stage itself. The patches of blue sky on the right and center, which break into it, like the clouds in the left foreground, are an artistic touch, but the blue sky on the left realistically shows the open space around the stage.

Diagram of stage arrangement in the Nō, showing also the position of the audience.

Diagram of stage setup in the Nō, also showing where the audience sits.

On the stage the chorus is represented by crosses, the leader of the chorus marked .

On the stage, the chorus is represented by crosses, the leader of the chorus marked .

The numbers I and II represent the positions during most of the action of the leading actors.

The numbers I and II represent the positions during most of the action of the main actors.

I represents the shite.

I represents the crap.

II represents the waki.

II represents the waki.

The encircled numbers show the positions of the musicians, who are stationary during the piece.

The numbered circles indicate the locations of the musicians, who remain in place throughout the piece.

1. The taiko player.
2. The otsuzumi player.
3. The kotsuzumi player.
4. The fue player.

The squares at the front of the stage represent the two pillars supporting its roof.

Reproduced by permission of the Royal Society of Literature.

The Chorus

Quoting again from my paper: “Before the play begins the chorus comes in, robed in blue or blue-grey, and enters into the colour scheme. The men squat on their heels with their legs folded straight and flat along the boards on the right of the stage, and before them lie their fans, which remain closed through the whole play, but are raised upright while they are singing. The chorus chants at intervals throughout the piece, sometimes informing the audience of the events supposed to be taking place, or to have taken place, sometimes moralising on the fate or feelings of the hero or heroine, sometimes describing their emotions, sometimes even instructing them. While they are doing this their fans are raised upright, with one end touching the ground, and are laid down again directly the words are finished. The Japanese name for the chorus is ji, a word meaning also ‘ground’—the ground colour, as it were, on which the figures of the drama are painted.” As is natural, such an arrangement of chorus and stage recalls the Greek plays. The comparisons and contrasts between this and the Greek, which spring immediately to one’s mind, have already been published by Prof. Chamberlain and others, who have given some account of the Nō, and to whose works reference should be made (see list on p. 103).

Quoting again from my paper: “Before the play starts, the chorus enters, dressed in blue or blue-grey, blending into the color scheme. The men sit on their heels with their legs folded flat along the boards on the right side of the stage, and before them lie their fans, which stay closed throughout the entire play but are held upright while they sing. The chorus chants at intervals throughout the piece, sometimes informing the audience about events that are happening or have happened, sometimes commenting on the fate or feelings of the hero or heroine, and at times describing their emotions or even instructing them. While they do this, their fans are lifted upright, with one end touching the ground, and are put down again as soon as the words are finished. The Japanese name for the chorus is ji, a term that also means ‘ground’—the foundation, as it were, on which the figures of the drama are painted.” Naturally, this arrangement of chorus and stage brings to mind Greek plays. The comparisons and contrasts between this and the Greek traditions, which immediately come to mind, have already been discussed by Prof. Chamberlain and others, who have provided insights into the Nō, and to whose works reference should be made (see list on p. 103).

[13]

The Music

The music is an important feature of the Nō plays, when they are completely presented. Indeed, the whole play can be more fairly compared with opera than with anything else on our stage, though the “singing” is very different from ours. The songs are given with a curious voice in which suppressed breathing is an item of value. Other parts of the play are chanted in unison, and even the prose “words” are intoned in a unique way which removes them absolutely from the realm of ordinary speaking, and makes them—to a foreigner—practically indistinguishable from the songs. There are, in addition to this vocal music, four instruments, and the players of these are distinct from the chorus and do not enter into its chanting at all, except sometimes with a sudden sharp Ha! or something which I confess I can only describe as being like the howl of a cat, and which did not seem to me to add to the impressiveness of the music, but to detract from it.

The music is a key aspect of the Nō plays when they are fully performed. In fact, the entire play is more accurately compared to opera than to anything else on our stage, though the “singing” is quite different from what we know. The songs are delivered with a unique voice that emphasizes controlled breathing. Other parts of the play are chanted in unison, and even the prose “words” are delivered in a distinctive way that completely separates them from regular speech, making them—especially to a foreigner—almost indistinguishable from the songs. Along with this vocal music, there are four instruments played by musicians who are separate from the chorus and do not participate in its chanting, except occasionally with a sudden sharp Ha! or something I can only describe as resembling a cat's howl, which, in my opinion, detracted from the overall impact of the music.

The musicians enter the theatre and take their place on the stage, in the places indicated in the diagram, after the chorus is seated and before the actors appear. In a full set of musicians the first is the performer on the taiko, who plays a flat drum set in a wooden stand on the floor, ornamented with a gorgeous scarlet silk tassel of such size and brilliance as to lend a vivid beauty to the quiet colour scheme. The next musician is the player of the ōtsuzumi, which is a kind of elongated drum held on his knee. The kotsuzumi is an hour-glass-shaped drum, which is held on the shoulder. Both Profs. Chamberlain and Dickins call this a tambourine,[14] but that name gives an entirely wrong impression both of the shape and the sound of this instrument. The last musician plays the fue or flute.

The musicians enter the theater and take their positions on stage, according to the diagram, after the chorus is seated and before the actors appear. In a complete set of musicians, the first is the performer on the taiko, who plays a flat drum set in a wooden stand on the floor, decorated with a stunning scarlet silk tassel that adds a vivid beauty to the subtle color scheme. The next musician plays the ōtsuzumi, which is a type of elongated drum held on his knee. The kotsuzumi is an hourglass-shaped drum held on the shoulder. Both Profs. Chamberlain and Dickins refer to this as a tambourine,[14] but that name gives a completely misleading impression of both the shape and the sound of this instrument. The last musician plays the fue or flute.

Most Westerners are content to call this music “a discord.” It is therefore pleasant to find Mr. Sansom saying, “At times the flute strikes in with a long-drawn note that has a strange and moving quality of sadness.” Personally, with the exception of the single interjected cries, the music appealed to me as being in complete harmony with the pieces and as adding greatly to their charm and meaning.

Most Westerners are happy to label this music as “a discord.” So it's nice to see Mr. Sansom noting, “At times the flute plays a prolonged note that has a strange and powerful sense of sadness.” For me, aside from the occasional sudden cries, the music felt perfectly in tune with the pieces and added a lot to their charm and significance.

The Actors

The actors enter from behind the curtain at the end of the gallery leading to the stage. They move towards the stage one by one, and very slowly, with long intervals between each step, every motion of which has been decreed for centuries. Captain Brinkley says, “It is, indeed, more than doubtful whether any other people ever developed such an expressive vocabulary of motion, such impressive eloquence of gesture. These masked dancers of the Nō, deprived of the important assistance of facial expression, and limited to a narrow range of cadence, nevertheless succeeded in investing their performance with a character of noble dignity and profound intensity of sentiment.” The actors pause at each of the pine trees which stand by the gallery to mark a stage in their progress. Only men act, and for the women’s parts they wear the conventional masks with the white, narrow face and the eyebrows painted high[15] up on the middle of the forehead, which is the classical standard of female beauty. Masks are also worn by those representing demons or ghosts, and these masks are much on the same plan as those worn by children on the fifth of November. They are made of carved wood with a slit for the mouth and two holes for the eyes. They are palpably masks put over the face and make no pretence at verisimilitude; indeed, sometimes the girl’s mask may be openly tied on with a fillet ribbon across the forehead. They are clearly illustrated in the plates facing pages 15 and 76, where the white mask-face is put so as to show quite frankly the tanned and corrugated neck of the elderly actor. Wild bushy heads of long hair are also worn by those taking the part of demons, and sometimes by the ghosts, as is seen in the plate facing p. 76, where the little figure represents the ghost in the Sumidagawa.

The actors come out from behind the curtain at the end of the walkway leading to the stage. They head towards the stage one by one and very slowly, with long pauses between each step, every movement of which has been decided for centuries. Captain Brinkley says, “It is indeed quite uncertain whether any other culture has developed such an expressive vocabulary of movement, such impressive eloquence of gesture. These masked dancers of the Nō, lacking the critical aid of facial expressions and limited to a narrow range of rhythm, still manage to infuse their performance with a sense of noble dignity and deep emotional intensity.” The actors stop at each of the pine trees that line the walkway to mark a step in their progress. Only men perform, and for the women’s roles, they wear traditional masks with a white, narrow face and high-painted eyebrows that are situated on the middle of the forehead, which is considered the classic standard of female beauty. Masks are also worn by those portraying demons or ghosts, and these masks are quite similar to those worn by children on the fifth of November. They are made of carved wood with a mouth slit and two holes for the eyes. They are clearly masks placed over the face and do not attempt to look realistic; in fact, sometimes the girl’s mask may be visibly tied on with a ribbon across the forehead. They are clearly shown in the illustrations facing pages 15 and 76, where the white mask is positioned to clearly reveal the tanned and wrinkled neck of the elderly actor. Wild, bushy hairstyles are also worn by those playing demons, and sometimes by the ghosts, as seen in the illustration facing p. 76, where the small figure represents the ghost in the Sumidagawa.

Plate 3.

A COUNTRY POETESS

A COUNTRY POET

The figure of a country girl, who was also a poetess, and sent a subtle verse in reply to a noble who sought to obtain some of the plant growing by her cottage (as represented on the stage by the bower to the left of the cut.) The figure shows well the ceremonial dress, of scarlet hakama, or divided skirt, with flowing, voluminous kimono over it. At the throat can be seen the series of under-dresses, of which only the edge of each appears. The massive folds over the head are not some head-dress, as might at first be thought, but the folds of the long kimono sleeve falling back over the arm which is raised above the head. The squatting figure to the right is that of a priest, who comes into the story of this Nō.

The image of a rural girl, who was also a poet, sent a subtle poem in response to a noble who wanted some of the plant growing by her cottage (as shown on stage by the bower to the left of the image). The illustration clearly displays the ceremonial outfit, a scarlet hakama or divided skirt, with a flowing, voluminous kimono over it. At the neck, you can see the layers of under-dresses, with only the edges of each visible. The large folds over her head aren’t a headdress, as one might initially think, but the folds of the long kimono sleeve draping back over the arm that is raised above her head. The squatting figure on the right is a priest, who is part of this No story.

The Costumes

Though in other respects the Nō staging is so simply organised, the costumes of the actors are sumptuous and completely representative of the parts the actors are playing. The various robes are all of mediæval cut and fashion, and are mostly very stiff with opulent brocades or embroideries. Some of the styles are shown in the various illustrations in this book, and it will at once be noticed that they are all elaborate and richly coloured. While the cut of most of the garments is something akin to the simple kimono and hakama (divided skirt worn by the men when fully dressed) of[16] the present day, they are on a more massive scale with great stiff boufflé divided skirts (as the figure in plate 3, p. 14, shows particularly well), and with the kimono sleeves so wide and stiff that the wearer seems almost three times his normal width. The figure on the Frontispiece illustrates such excessively voluminous and elaborate dress. The garments may be worn in overlaid series, showing beneath a rich overdress the edges of many equally fine under-robes, and of course armour and accoutrements are carried by those representing the ancient warriors.

Though the Nō staging is generally very straightforward, the actors' costumes are lavish and perfectly embody the roles they portray. The various robes are all designed in a medieval style, mostly stiff and adorned with rich brocades or embroidery. Some of these styles are illustrated in this book, and it’s immediately clear that they are all intricate and vividly colored. While the cut of most of the clothing resembles the simple kimono and hakama (the divided skirt worn by men when fully dressed) of today, they are on a larger scale, featuring big stiff bouffant divided skirts (as shown particularly well in the figure in plate 3, p. 14), and the kimono sleeves are so wide and stiff that the wearer appears nearly three times his normal width. The figure on the Frontispiece exemplifies this excessively voluminous and ornate attire. The garments can be layered, displaying the edges of many equally fine under-robes beneath a rich overdress, and of course, armor and accessories are carried by those portraying the ancient warriors.

The costumes of the Nō are in truth the treasures of a museum, put to actual use.

The costumes of the Nō are truly the treasures of a museum, put to real use.

Properties

There are few or no “stage properties” of any kind. Just as there is no scenery and the images of the places in which the action lies must be evolved in their own minds by the spectators, guided by the descriptive passages of the play; so also there are no appliances. If the actors, for instance, have to enter a boat and be rowed across a stream, they will perhaps merely step over a bamboo pole. If one of the characters has to ladle up water and offer it to a fainting warrior, the whole action is accomplished with a fan. Sometimes there may be a little in the way of properties—for example, the arbour-like bowers in plate 3, p. 14, which are drawn on to the stage and represent dwellings, and in plate 4, p. 16, where the little temple bell is brought into the action. But even in such cases the[17] actors have to create an illusion round the accessories by their words and motions.

There are hardly any “stage props” at all. Just like there’s no scenery, and the audience has to imagine the setting based on the descriptions in the play, there are also no tools. For example, if the actors need to get into a boat and row across a river, they might just step over a bamboo pole. If a character needs to scoop up water and offer it to a fainting warrior, that action is just done with a fan. Occasionally, there are a few props—for instance, the arbor-like structures in plate 3, p. 14, which are brought onto the stage to represent homes, and in plate 4, p. 16, where a small temple bell is incorporated into the scene. But even in these situations, the[17] actors have to create an illusion around the props through their dialogue and movements.

We scarcely need to be reminded that Shakespeare’s plays were originally written for a stage which had but little more in the way of properties, and that even to-day there are not a few persons who feel that Shakespeare’s finest passages do not gain but actually lose by the life-like and elaborate settings of the modern stage.

We hardly need to be reminded that Shakespeare’s plays were initially written for a stage with very few props, and that even today, there are quite a few people who believe that Shakespeare’s best lines don’t improve but actually lose their impact because of the realistic and detailed sets of the modern stage.

When one hears the Nō called archaic and primitive because of their absence of scenery and the child-like simplicity and artlessness of the properties one feels it is by a critic who is confusing values. “Words which unaided can hold an audience, a drama which can paint the scene directly on the mind with little intervention of the eye, is surely not rightly described as primitive.”

When someone calls the Nō outdated and basic due to its lack of scenery and the naive simplicity of its props, it's clear they're mixing up values. "Words that can engage an audience on their own, a play that can vividly create a scene in the mind with minimal visual aid, is definitely not accurately labeled as primitive."

Plate 4.

MIIDERA

This print, taken from a Japanese coloured woodcut, illustrates the central figure of a Nō drama, with the single, most characteristic piece of stage “property,” belonging to the play. The figure is that of a mother, well-nigh mad with grief at the loss of her child, (note the bamboo in her hand, a symbol of her state) who sets out to seek him. She finds the little one at the Temple of Miidera, a view of which is inset in the black circle on the left of the print. The model of a temple bell in red lacquer beneath this is mounted on roller feet, and is an illustration of the piece of property which is all that represents the temple on the stage, and is a good example of the simplicity of the stage-mounting of the Nō pieces.

This print, taken from a Japanese colored woodcut, shows the main character of a No drama, along with the most distinctive piece of stage "property" related to the play. The character is a mother, almost driven mad with grief over the loss of her child (notice the bamboo in her hand, symbolizing her emotional state) who sets out to find him. She discovers her little one at the Temple of Miidera, illustrated in the black circle on the left side of the print. Below this is a model of a temple bell in red lacquer mounted on roller feet, representing the only piece that signifies the temple on stage, showcasing the simplicity of the Nō staging elements.

The Audience

Prof. Aston, in his History of Japanese Literature, says (p. 200): “Representations (of the Nō) are still given in Tokio, Kioto and other places, by the descendants or successors of the old managers who founded the art ... and are attended by small but select audiences composed almost entirely of ex-Daimios or military nobles and their ex-retainers. To the vulgar the Nō are completely unintelligible.” The contrast between the audiences at the Nō and at the common theatre is very marked, but then it must be remembered that practically no one of culture or refinement attends the common theatre, and practically every one of that class is interested in the Nō. Owing to the present social con[18]ditions in Japan, however, the audiences at the Nō pieces are not so small or so restricted as this would lead us to believe if we did not remember that ex-daimios and military nobles have entered almost every social grade; many, indeed most, of the common police are Samurai, excessively poor students of the University or school teachers, and even rickshaw-men may be the representatives of the proud old families. When, a little more than forty years ago, the great social upheaval and re-organisation of Japan took place, and the nobles and Samurai lost their privileged positions, though they were given positions of honourable standing so far as possible, many of them entered the ranks of what we would call the “common people”; and so it happens that to-day there are permeating nearly the whole of society, in all its grades, some of the old cultured class. Among policemen, rickshaw-men and gardeners one may come across men of deep classical interests and knowledge, and a poor student living on a few shillings a week may spend his evenings chanting the Nō songs to the moon. Indeed, while I was in Tokio such a one lived near the house in which I dwelt for a few months. I never met him personally, because I did not wish to destroy the wonderful impression of melancholy romance and weird beauty which his chanting gave me. The many evenings that I sat alone on my balcony, looking toward Fuji mountain, behind which the sun had set, and heard in the swiftly passing twilight and under the glittering oriental stars the mournful, tragic chants of the Nō which this young man was practising, have left their life-long impression on me, and perhaps account for the deeper love and[19] understanding of the Nō which have come to me than to the foreigners who hear only a few performances in a theatre. Yet this young man lived in what could scarcely be called more than a hovel, and he is representative of thousands now so living in Japan.

Prof. Aston, in his History of Japanese Literature, says (p. 200): “Performances of the Nō are still held in Tokyo, Kyoto, and other places by the descendants or successors of the original managers who established the art ... and are attended by small but select audiences made up almost entirely of former Daimyos or military nobles and their ex-retainers. To the average person, the Nō is totally incomprehensible.” The difference between the audiences at the Nō and at regular theaters is very pronounced, but it should be noted that basically no one cultured or refined goes to the regular theater, while nearly all of those in that educated class have an interest in the Nō. Due to the current social conditions in Japan, however, the audiences at the Nō performances are not as small or restricted as one might think if we didn’t remember that former daimyo and military nobles have blended into nearly every social level; indeed, many, if not most, of the common police are Samurai, excessively poor university students or school teachers, and even rickshaw drivers can represent the proud old families. When, just over forty years ago, Japan underwent a significant social upheaval and reorganization, the nobles and Samurai lost their privileged status; although they were given honorable positions as much as possible, many of them joined what we would consider the “common people.” Hence, it turns out that today there are elements of the old cultured class permeating nearly all levels of society. Among policemen, rickshaw drivers, and gardeners, one can encounter individuals with deep classical interests and knowledge, and a poor student living on just a few shillings a week may spend his evenings chanting the Nō songs to the moon. In fact, while I was in Tokyo, there was such a man living near the house where I stayed for a few months. I never met him personally because I didn’t want to ruin the enchanting impression of melancholy romance and eerie beauty his chanting left on me. The many evenings I sat alone on my balcony, gazing toward Mount Fuji, behind which the sun had set, and listened to the mournful, tragic chants of the Nō that this young man practiced during the swiftly passing twilight and under the shimmering Oriental stars, have created a lifelong impression on me, and perhaps explain the deeper love and understanding of the Nō that I've gained compared to foreigners who only hear a few performances in a theater. Yet this young man lived in what could hardly be called more than a shack, and he represents thousands of others living that way in Japan.

Consequently one must remember that though the audience of a Nō theatre is “select” in the real sense, it is not by any means entirely composed of wealthy folk.

Consequently, one must remember that although the audience of a Nō theatre is genuinely "select," it isn't solely made up of wealthy people.

All who can afford to do so come in full ceremonial dress, which is sombre-coloured both for men and women, for custom only allows the brilliant colours to be donned by children and young girls. Most of the audience arrives by nine o’clock in the morning, and remains till three or four in the afternoon. The “boxes” are little matted compartments marked off on the floor, with railings round them but six inches high, and every one sits on his folded-up legs on a cushion on the floor. As will be seen in the diagram (p. 10) the audience sits round three sides of the stage. In the winter they will have a little charcoal fire in the box beside them, and will sit warming their hands over it as they watch the piece.

All who can afford it come in full ceremonial attire, which is dark-colored for both men and women, as only children and young girls are allowed to wear bright colors. Most of the audience arrives by nine in the morning and stays until three or four in the afternoon. The “boxes” are small matted areas marked off on the floor, with railings around them that are only six inches high, and everyone sits on their folded legs on a cushion on the floor. As shown in the diagram (p. 10), the audience is seated around three sides of the stage. In the winter, they have a small charcoal fire in the box next to them and warm their hands over it while they watch the performance.

Concerning the Effect of the Nō on the Audience and on me

In a common theatre the audience talks, eats, and even plays games between the scenes of the play, and gives its best attention during a murder or a very realistic hara-kiri, when the blood trickles in lifelike fashion[20] out of the actor’s mouth as he writhes for half-an-hour in his death agonies with a crimson gash across his middle. I shall never forget a scene of the kind which nearly did for me altogether, but which stirred the whole audience to breathless attention. During a performance of the Nō, on the other hand, most of the audience listen absorbedly to the whole piece, many being well able to check or criticise the actor if he should make the slightest slip, as they are personally acquainted with the parts. Others follow the chanting with a book of the text in their hands, and thus secure themselves against losing a word; for the Nō is like our own opera in this, that unless one is well acquainted with the words of the piece they are apt to be lost here and there. Each one of the audience has some knowledge of classical poetry, and according to the degree of this knowledge is the enjoyment of the thousand allusions and part quotations and adaptations that are in the plays. With each recognised reference to some classic poem or story, the richer does the suggestion of the whole become, for a word or a phrase which has but little meaning in itself becomes fragrant and beautiful when it carries with it the perfume of a thousand lovely and suggestive memories. Also working upon the sensitive audience all the time, there is the psychic effect of the beautiful and harmonious colouring and of the potent music. The psychological effect of music is a power which we all vaguely recognise, but few of us begin to understand. Nevertheless, I hold it as certain that for the time being it physically as well as spiritually affects us, and that when we are tuned to the throb and rhythm of fundamentally great and right music, though we are[21] no nearer to an intellectual understanding of the root things of the universe, yet we are actually nearer a spiritual oneness with, and hence a sort of comprehension of them. The music of the Nō, founded on a different scale from our own, has a very peculiar effect, yet one in complete harmony with the mental conceptions of the plays.

In a typical theater, the audience chats, eats, and even plays games between scenes, but all their attention is focused during a murder or a very graphic hara-kiri, when blood realistically streams from the actor’s mouth as he writhes for half an hour in his final moments with a deep wound across his stomach. I’ll never forget a scene like that which nearly overwhelmed me, yet it captivated the whole audience. During a performance of the Nō, on the other hand, most of the spectators listen intently to the entire piece, many able to point out or critique any errors the actor might make since they are personally familiar with the roles. Others follow along with a text in hand to make sure they don’t miss a word; the Nō is similar to our operas in that if you're not well-versed in the words, you can easily lose track of them. Each audience member has some knowledge of classical poetry, and the enjoyment they derive from the thousands of allusions and partial quotes in the plays depends on their level of familiarity. Each time a reference to a classic poem or story is recognized, the overall effect becomes richer, as words or phrases that may seem insignificant take on beauty and depth when accompanied by a flood of cherished memories. Additionally, the beautiful and harmonious colors and powerful music continuously influence the receptive audience. The psychological impact of music is a force we all sense but few truly understand. However, I firmly believe that it affects us physically and spiritually in the moment, and that when we resonate with the beat and rhythm of fundamentally great and right music, although we may not grasp the deeper truths of the universe intellectually, we find ourselves spiritually closer to them, gaining a kind of understanding. The music of the Nō, based on a different scale from our own, has a unique effect that perfectly complements the mental themes of the plays.

And to this effect the audience of the Nō is pre-eminently exposed, for all the surrounding conditions are calculated to enhance and aid it: the magnetic effect of the quiet, intellectual audience on itself; the beautiful simplicity and harmony of the colour scheme within the theatre; the dignity and impersonalness of the actors fulfilling their anciently prescribed actions; the allusions and suggestions of the poems, the descriptions of natural beauties and the frequent references to religious and philosophical ideas; when combined with the strange and solemn music of the singers create together within the heart of the observer a something which is well nigh sublime.

And for this reason, the audience of the Nō is especially affected, as all the surrounding factors are designed to enhance their experience: the magnetic effect of a calm, thoughtful audience on itself; the beautiful simplicity and harmony of the color scheme in the theater; the dignity and detachment of the actors performing their age-old roles; the references and suggestions in the poems, the descriptions of natural beauty, and the frequent mentions of religious and philosophical ideas; when combined with the strange and solemn music of the singers, create a feeling within the heart of the observer that is nearly sublime.

Going to the Nō as a stranger and a foreigner, to whom almost all the allusions and suggestions of classical quotation were lost—to whom no thrills could be communicated by the mention of a single word (just think for a moment what feelings the one name Deirdre of the Sorrows creates in you if you know the Irish stories and have seen Synge’s play. Well, just such feelings are created in a Japanese by single words and names, which to us appear prosy or unintelligible), yet even I was caught in the power of the whole creation of the Nō. To my earlier words I still adhere: “There is in the whole a ring of fire and splendour, of pain and[22] pathos, which none but a cultured Japanese can fully appreciate, but which we Westerners might hear, though the sounds be muffled, if we would only incline our ears.” Those who find the Nō plays prosy and of mediocre merit, have but partially comprehended them through having been too intent upon the “letter of the law.”

Going to the Nō as a stranger and a foreigner, where almost all the cultural references and hints of classical quotes were lost on me—where I couldn’t feel any excitement from just one word (just imagine the emotions the one name Deirdre of the Sorrows stirs in you if you know the Irish stories and have seen Synge’s play. Similarly, a Japanese person experiences powerful feelings from single words and names that seem ordinary or baffling to us)—even I found myself captivated by the entire experience of the Nō. I still stand by my earlier thoughts: “There is in the whole a ring of fire and splendor, of pain and [22] pathos, which none but a cultured Japanese can fully appreciate, but which we Westerners might hear, even if the sounds are muted, if we would just open our ears.” Those who think the Nō plays are dull and of mediocre quality have only partially grasped them because they focused too much on the “letter of the law.”

Concerning the dramatic Construction of the Nō

True “dramatic” qualities are almost entirely absent from the Nō; there is no interplay of the characters, no working up of a story to some moving, dramatic and apparently inevitable conclusion. Nor are the unities of time and place in the least regarded. Even centuries may be supposed to elapse in the course of the story of a play, and an actor may be represented as travelling far while declaiming a short speech. An outline scheme of the plot which would be found to fit the majority of the plays is as follows: The hero or heroine, or the secondary character, sets out upon a journey, generally in search of some person or to fulfil some duty or religious object, and on this journey passes some famous spot. In the course of long and generally wearying wanderings, a recital of which gives an opportunity for the descriptions of natural beauties, this living person meets some god, or the ghost or re-incarnated spirit of some person of note, or perhaps the altered and melancholy wreck of some one of former grand estate. Generally at first this ghost or spirit is not recognised,[23] and the living hero converses with it about the legends or histories attached to the locality. Usually then toward the end the ghost makes itself known as the spirit of the departed hero for which the spot is famous. Often a priest forms one of the characters, and then the ghost may be soothed by his prayers and exhortations. There is generally some moral teaching interwoven with the story, the hero or the ghost exemplifying filial or paternal duty, patriotism, or some such quality; while there is a thread of Buddhistic teaching throughout. In this the main theme is the transitoriness of human life, and at the same time is presented a view of all the pain and misery people may endure when they are not rendered superior to it by a recognition of the higher philosophy that teaches that the whole universe is a dream, from whose toils the freed spirit can escape.

True “dramatic” qualities are almost completely missing from the Nō; there's no interaction between characters, no buildup of a story to some emotional, dramatic, and seemingly inevitable conclusion. The unities of time and place aren’t considered at all. Even centuries can pass during the course of a play’s story, and an actor might be shown traveling far while delivering a short speech. A common plot outline for most of the plays is as follows: The hero or heroine, or a secondary character, sets out on a journey, usually in search of someone or to fulfill some duty or religious purpose, and during this journey, they pass by a famous location. Throughout long and often exhausting wanderings, which provide a chance to describe natural beauty, this living person encounters a god, or the ghost or re-incarnated spirit of someone significant, or maybe the changed and sorrowful remnants of someone who once held great status. Typically, at first, this ghost or spirit is not recognized, and the living hero talks with it about the legends or histories connected to the area. Usually, then toward the end, the ghost reveals itself as the spirit of the departed hero for whom the location is renowned. A priest often appears as one of the characters, and the ghost may find comfort in his prayers and guidance. There’s usually some moral message woven into the story, with the hero or ghost demonstrating duty to family, patriotism, or similar virtues; meanwhile, a thread of Buddhist teaching runs throughout. The central theme here is the fleeting nature of human life, alongside a view of all the pain and suffering people can experience when they’re not elevated above it by acknowledging the higher philosophy that teaches that the entire universe is a dream, from which the freed spirit can escape.

The primitive complement of actors was probably two, but few plays have so small a number. Three or perhaps four actors is the usual, and six, with a few exceptions, is the highest number for a complete cast.

The basic number of actors was probably two, but not many plays have such a small cast. Usually, there are three or maybe four actors, and six—with a few exceptions—is the maximum for a full cast.

1. The hero or protagonist is called the shite.

1. The hero or main character is called the shite.

2. The companion or assistant to the hero is the tsure.

3. The balance of the story is preserved by a sort of deuteragonist called the waki, who may also have his tsure.

3. The balance of the story is maintained by a secondary character known as the waki, who may also have his tsure.

4. A child part may be added to enrich or add pathos to the play (as in the Sumida River for example), and he is called the kokata.

4. A child character may be added to enhance or add emotional depth to the play (like in the Sumida River, for example), and this character is referred to as the kokata.

5. Then there may be the ahi, or supplementary actor.

5. Then there may be the ahi, or additional actor.

The actors do not perform many evolutions on the[24] stage, and though their movements are in harmony with the story to some extent, they tend to remain more or less in the relative positions that are indicated on the plan of the stage facing p. 10.

The actors don't make many movements on the[24] stage, and while their actions somewhat align with the story, they generally stick to the positions shown on the stage layout facing p. 10.

Concerning the literary Style of the original texts of the Nō

The text of the Nō is composed of a mixture of somewhat stilted and archaic prose, incompletely phrased portions, and poetry in correct metrical form. The strictly compressed and regulated five and seven syllabled lines of the short, standard verses of Japan are here scattered somewhat irregularly. Indeed, the general text of the Nō may perhaps best be described as poetry but half dissolved in prose; or, to use another simile, as an archipelago of little islets of poetry in a sea of prose, each islet surrounded and connected by sandy shores and bars which have been reduced almost to sea level.

The text of the Nō is made up of a mix of somewhat formal and old-fashioned prose, unfinished phrases, and poetry in the correct metrical form. The tightly structured five and seven syllable lines of Japan's standard short verses are arranged a bit unevenly here. In fact, the overall text of the Nō could be best described as poetry that's partly blended with prose; or, to use another analogy, as an archipelago of tiny islands of poetry in a sea of prose, with each island surrounded and linked by sandy shores and bars that have almost been worn down to sea level.

All through the pieces there is an immense number of plays upon words, of “pillow” and “pivot” words, of short quotations from and allusions to classical poetry, so that the text simply bristles with opportunities for literary “commentators.” The excessive amount of classical allusion and quotation, while it does not appeal at all to us, is one of the features which principally delights the Japanese literati. For this is considered not only to show the degree of knowledge which the author possessed, but also to add greatly to the richness and suggestiveness of the piece by bringing to the memory[25] other cognate scenes and ideas. The merit of the frequent quotations being that they allow of great compression and terseness of style, so that in a few words an author can bring a series of scenes before the mind of his audience.

Throughout the pieces, there are numerous wordplays, “pillow” and “pivot” words, and short quotes and references to classical poetry, making the text full of opportunities for literary “commentators.” The heavy use of classical allusions and quotations, while not appealing to us, is one of the features that primarily delights Japanese literati. This is seen as a way to demonstrate the author's knowledge and significantly enhance the richness and suggestiveness of the piece by recalling related scenes and ideas. The value of these frequent quotations lies in their ability to allow for a concise and impactful style, enabling an author to present a series of scenes to their audience in just a few words.

Plate 5.

SŌSHIARI-GOMACHI

Sōshiari-gomachi

This plate, taken from a Japanese coloured woodcut, illustrates the Nō of which Komachi is the heroine. She was a poetess of great beauty and poetic gifts, and many distinguished poets were very jealous of her. On the occasion of one of the competitions of verse before the Emperor (the figure on the extreme right with scarlet skirts) one of her enemies attempted to prove that her verse was plagiarized and that he had it already in his own collection. She proves his fraud by washing out the verse which he had just written into his book after hearing it, showing that it was not printed with the rest. This she is about to do in the picture. The story continues that after his exposure he tried to commit suicide to escape disgrace, but she generously prevented him. The mask worn by the actor who takes her part well illustrates the classic type of beauty in Japan. The eyebrows are shaved off, and painted on high upon the forehead beneath the hair. In the action she uses a fan to express the business of washing out the interpolated verses (see p. 16). The oblong article to the right represents the table on which a copy of her verses was laid in the competition.

This print, taken from a Japanese colored woodcut, shows the Nō where Komachi is the main character. She was a beautiful and talented poetess, which made many famous poets envious of her. During a poetry competition held in front of the Emperor (who is depicted on the far right with red skirts), one of her rivals tried to claim that her poem was plagiarized and that he already had it in his collection. She proves him wrong by erasing the poem that he had just written in his book after hearing it, demonstrating that it wasn’t printed with the others. This is what she’s about to do in the picture. The story goes on to say that after being exposed, he attempted to take his own life to avoid shame, but she kindly stopped him. The mask worn by the actor playing her perfectly showcases the classic standard of beauty in Japan. The eyebrows are shaved off and painted high on the forehead beneath the hair. During the performance, she uses a fan to show the act of erasing the added verses (see p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__). The rectangular object on the right represents the table where a copy of her poems was placed during the competition.

So much we can understand, but the “pillow” and “pivot” words are without parallel in our own language. By means of them the subject may be diverted to some idea which appears, to our way of thinking, totally unconnected. For instance, in the Sumida River (see p. 83) the use of the root word for repute by the Ferryman makes the Mother, in the following line, recall and quote a classic poem on quite another subject which has the same root word in it. The link connecting the two subjects being merely the one root word which is common to both, and which is called the pivot word, the value of which is, of course, entirely lost in translation. In English, unconnected ideas alone are left. Some examples of such devices are mentioned in the notes following the translations of the plays at the end of the book, but throughout the utai they are of perpetual recurrence and are far too frequent to be mentioned every time they appear. In his Classical Poetry of the Japanese, Prof. Chamberlain gives an account of the pivot words, and he admires their “dissolving view” effects, but Aston thinks them frivolous and a sign of decadence. These “pivot words” as well as the “pillow words,” though they are so prevalent in its literature, are not at all confined to the utai of the Nō, but are characteristic of the whole of the early Japanese verse. The “pillow words” (called makura-kotoba in Japanese) have been collected[26] by Prof. F. F. V. Dickins [3] recently, and he says, “The makura-kotoba form the characteristic embellishment of the early uta of Japan, and of all subsequent Japanese, as distinguished from Japano-Chinese verse.”

We can understand a lot, but the terms “pillow” and “pivot” have no equivalent in our language. They allow the topic to shift to an idea that seems completely unrelated to us. For example, in the Sumida River (see p. 83), the Ferryman uses the root word for repute, which makes the Mother in the next line remember and quote a classic poem about a different subject that shares that root word. The only link between the two subjects is that common root word, known as the pivot word, which loses its significance in translation. In English, what we're left with are just disconnected ideas. Some examples of these devices are discussed in the notes following the translations of the plays at the end of the book, but they're so common throughout the utai that it's impractical to mention them every time they occur. In his Classical Poetry of the Japanese, Prof. Chamberlain describes the pivot words and appreciates their “dissolving view” effects, while Aston finds them trivial and a sign of decline. These “pivot words” and “pillow words,” although abundant in its literature, are not limited to the utai of the Nō, but are typical of all early Japanese poetry. The “pillow words” (known as makura-kotoba in Japanese) have been recently compiled by Prof. F. F. V. Dickins[26][3], who states, “The makura-kotoba are a defining embellishment of the early uta of Japan and all later Japanese poetry, distinguishing it from Japano-Chinese verse.”

As regards rhyme, there is no use of such rhyming as characterises our own verse; and this may partly depend on the structure of the Japanese language. Japanese words are not composed of letters as they are with us, but of syllables; every consonant is associated with all the vowels. Thus the words are compounded of a larger number of elements than with us, but each ends in one of the five vowels or in n. The elements are ka, ki, ko, ta, ti, tu, te, to, and so on. This will at once be evident if we examine a few words of romanised Japanese. For example, the first line of the play Tamura is Hina no myakoji hedate kite.

As for rhyme, there isn't any of the kind that characterizes our poetry, and this might partly be due to the structure of the Japanese language. Japanese words aren't made up of letters like ours are, but instead consist of syllables; every consonant is paired with all the vowels. This means the words are made up of more elements than in our language, but each one ends with one of the five vowels or with n. The elements include ka, ki, ko, ta, ti, tu, te, to, and so on. This becomes clear if we look at a few romanized Japanese words. For instance, the first line of the play Tamura is Hina no myakoji hedate kite.

In the utai, though there is no terminal rhyming, there is sometimes a tendency to repeat the same syllable more than once in a phrase, with the deliberate intention of accentuating it.

In the utai, even though there’s no end rhyming, there’s sometimes a tendency to repeat the same syllable multiple times in a phrase, intentionally highlighting it.

Concerning the Difficulties of Translation

Only half-a-dozen of the complete Nō and portions of a few others have been translated into English from all the many Japanese originals that are available. But this is scarcely surprising. In translating any of the Nō there are two supreme difficulties to be encountered. The first depends on the organic remoteness of the Japanese[27] language from our own, which is common to any translation from the Japanese; and the second is the peculiar difficulty of translating the utai because the exact meaning of many portions of them is disputed even by Japanese authorities, and then even where the meaning may be clear to a Japanese expert the compression of the language is so great that it cannot literally be rendered into a European language. From a French or German, even from a Russian original, a literal translation is comprehensible even if it is not beautiful in English. A literal English translation from a Japanese original is arrant nonsense. The Japanese language is not merely unlike ours; the whole mode and order of the thought upon which it is founded is on an entirely different plan from our own. The more conscientious the translator the greater his difficulty. It is easy enough to translate “O yasumi nasai” as “good-night,” but how are we to say in English what it really means, i. e. approximately “honourably deign to take rest,” without appearing remote and stilted? And that is just a simple little common phrase; when the Japanese to be translated is contorted and coruscated with “pillow words” and “pivot words,” with a phrase from an old classical poem of which the reader is supposed to know the whole, and cannot “see the point” unless he does so, what is the translator to do? But suppose, further, that a couple of the words are the subject of learned controversy, as is frequently the case, is it likely two translations will coincide?

Only a handful of the complete Nō plays and parts of a few others have been translated into English from the numerous Japanese originals available. This isn’t surprising. There are two major challenges in translating any of the Nō. The first challenge comes from the deep differences between the Japanese[27] language and our own, which is an issue common to any translation from Japanese. The second challenge is the unique difficulty in translating the utai, as the exact meaning of many parts is debated even among Japanese experts. Even when a Japanese expert clearly understands the meaning, the language is so concise that it can't be literally translated into a European language. A literal translation from a French or German source, or even a Russian one, can be somewhat understandable, even if it doesn't sound great in English. But a straight English translation from a Japanese original often ends up as complete nonsense. The Japanese language is not just different from ours; the entire framework and structure of the thoughts it conveys are on a completely different level than ours. The more diligent the translator, the more challenging the task becomes. It's easy to translate “O yasumi nasai” as “good night,” but how do we express in English what it really means, which is something like “honorably deign to take rest,” without sounding awkward and overly formal? And that’s just a simple, common phrase; when the Japanese being translated is complex and filled with “pillow words” and “pivot words,” with references to old classical poems that the reader is expected to be familiar with, leaving them unable to “get it” unless they do, what is the translator supposed to do? Furthermore, if some words are subjects of academic debate, which often happens, is it even likely that two translations will agree?

[28]

Concerning the Translations of others, as well as those in this Book

There are three principal lines that a much-to-be-pitied translator may take. (1) He may give up in despair any attempt at being literal. He belongs, let us say, to the school that think it best to translate “O yasumi nasai” as “good-night.” He has this pre-eminent virtue that he will give us at least a version which can be read as English. And there is much to be said for this mode of treatment. (2) On the other hand, a great contrast to translator No. 1 is he who desires to give a literal version of the Japanese, and who does not care in the least whether it sounds smooth and finished in English. (3) Then there is the last, and perhaps the most misguided of all, who cares a great deal to convey the true Japanese impression and also tries to polish and round off the English so that it may not appear too stilted or too rough, but may convey to the English reader something of the true spirit of the Japanese without always diverting his attention to some peculiarity of the rendering’s bodily form. As I myself have endeavoured to supply the third type of translations, I may be allowed to enlarge a little on the attitude of mind of one making the attempt.

There are three main approaches that a translator, who deserves our sympathy, might take. (1) They might give up in frustration and abandon the goal of being literal. Let’s say they belong to the group that thinks it’s best to translate “O yasumi nasai” as “good-night.” They have the significant advantage of providing us with a version that we can actually read as English. And there are definitely pros to this approach. (2) In contrast, the second type of translator aims to create a literal translation of the Japanese, not caring at all whether it sounds smooth and polished in English. (3) Finally, there’s the last type, perhaps the most misguided of all, who is very concerned with capturing the true Japanese essence and also attempts to refine and smooth out the English so it doesn’t come across as too stiff or rough, while still conveying something of the real spirit of the Japanese without constantly drawing attention to any awkwardness in the translation itself. Since I have tried to provide translations that fit this third type, I would like to expand a little on the mindset of someone making that effort.

M. Bergson, in his inimitable book on laughter, says, “Where lies the comic element in this sentence, taken from a funeral speech and quoted by a German philosopher: ‘He was virtuous, and plump’? It lies in the fact that our attention is suddenly recalled from the soul to the body.” The sudden intrusion of the[29] body, particularly the imperfect or ill-managed body, is the source of most of the comic element in human life.

M. Bergson, in his unique book on laughter, says, “Where is the comedic part in this sentence, taken from a funeral speech and quoted by a German philosopher: ‘He was virtuous, and plump’? It’s because our focus is suddenly shifted from the soul to the body.” The sudden appearance of the body, especially the imperfect or awkward body, is the main source of most of the humor in human life.

Hence, recognising this fatal pitfall, I have felt it essential to make the body of my translations as little irritating and noticeable as possible, while at the same time preserving, as far as the language will allow, complete truthfulness to the spirit of the original. All my sympathies are with the translators in class No. 2, and were our universe not organised in the humorous way that M. Bergson has pointed out, I should have ranked myself with them, and attempted to give only a literal rendering of the Japanese. But such translations never allow us for a moment to forget the English body of the original Japanese spirit, because the body they give it is out of joint, abnormal in our eyes, and therefore it absorbs our attention or renders ridiculous the hints it conveys that the spirit it encloses may have aspired to soar.

Recognizing this critical mistake, I felt it was essential to make the body of my translations as smooth and unobtrusive as possible, while still staying true to the original's spirit as much as the language allows. I fully support the translators in class No. 2, and if our universe weren't organized in the amusing way M. Bergson pointed out, I would have placed myself among them and tried to provide a purely literal translation of the Japanese. However, such translations never let us forget the English form of the original Japanese spirit, because the form they present feels awkward and strange to us, drawing our attention away and making the subtle meanings seem ridiculous, even though the spirit it encapsulates may have aimed to rise above.

Let me illustrate by quotation—

Let me illustrate with a quote—

Dickins’s [4] most scholarly and valuable translation keeps one’s attention always in the realm of intellectual interest, and it is his intention to be strictly in accord with the original. His version is partly in prose and partly in this form—

Dickins’s [4] most scholarly and valuable translation consistently engages the reader's intellectual curiosity, and he aims to align closely with the original text. His version includes both prose and this format—

“across the waves he
upon the shipway earth, the skies are gentle,
the spring winds gently blowing—
what story of days shall his bark in the cloudy distance sail over the sea plain till Hāruma he reaches.”

[30]

With this it is interesting to compare Aston’s translation, which is largely prose. The lines quoted above from Dickins are rendered by Aston [5] as follows: “With waves that rise along the shore, and a genial wind of spring upon the ship-path, how many days pass without a trace of him we know not, until at length he has reached the longed-for bay of Takasago, on the coast of Harima.”

With this, it's interesting to compare Aston’s translation, which is mostly in prose. The lines quoted above from Dickins are rendered by Aston [5] like this: “With waves crashing along the shore, and a warm spring breeze on the shipping route, how many days go by without a sign of him we don’t know, until finally he reaches the longed-for bay of Takasago, on the coast of Harima.”

This play of Takasago is often quoted and is much beloved by the Japanese, and some of the verses from it are invariably chanted at the wedding festivals. The beginning of the famous chorus is thus rendered by Aston (p. 209)—

This play, Takasago, is frequently quoted and greatly loved by the Japanese. Some of its verses are always chanted at wedding celebrations. The beginning of the well-known chorus is translated by Aston (p. 209)—

"Across the four seas
The waves are still; The world is peaceful.
Time flies softly, [6]
Not disturbing the branches. In today's world
Blessed are the very firs,
At that meeting "To grow old together."

Captain Brinkley’s translation of Ataka is in somewhat similar style to the preceding, a mixture of prose and “verse” of short lines like the following example—

Captain Brinkley’s translation of Ataka has a style that's somewhat similar to the previous one, blending prose with short lines of “verse” like the following example—

"From traveler's outfit
Bells ring notes Of pilgrims' footsteps; And from dirty sleeves
Hanging dew drops predict “Last meeting's tears.”

[31]

To the same school of translators belongs Mr. Sansom,[7] though he is slightly less literal than Mr. Dickins. He renders the exquisite fragment from the Sakuragawa as follows—

To the same group of translators belongs Mr. Sansom,[7] although he’s a bit less strict than Mr. Dickins. He translates the beautiful excerpt from the Sakuragawa like this—

"The waters flow, the flowers fall,
Spring lasts forever,
The moon shines coldly, and the wind blows strongly,
The cranes don’t fly home.
The flowers that bloom in the rocks
are red and brighten the stream.
The trees that grow near the caves are green and carry the breeze
The flowers bloom like brocade,
"The overflowing pools are deep and blue."

All the time we are reading this the magic of suggestion is working, and we would fain let our minds float away into the land of spring; but our attention is brought plumping down to the bodily presentation of the thoughts and our intellect is set at work to see how the lines might have been made to scan, or to run in some form of rhythm. So long as they do just scan and have a passable rhythm, we do not think of the poetical qualities of the translation, but when they jolt us along our attention is constantly diverted from the higher theme to the lesser subject of English grammar and versification.

All the while we're reading this, the power of suggestion is at play, and we would love to let our minds drift off to the land of spring; but our focus gets pulled back to the physical expression of the thoughts, and our intellect gets engaged in figuring out how the lines could have been crafted to fit a certain meter or flow in some kind of rhythm. As long as they fit well and have a decent rhythm, we don't think about the poetic qualities of the translation. However, when they stumble, our attention continuously shifts from the grand theme to the minor issue of English grammar and verse.

So that I have endeavoured in my translations to make the lines run smoothly enough to be read aloud without much irritation; and though I have doubtless not fully succeeded, I have tried to give them as much verbal beauty as was possible within the narrow limits afforded[32] me by the literal Japanese meaning. In this my collaborator, Prof. Sakurai, has held the rein on me at times when I would have liked to run away with some poetical conceits, and it is owing entirely to his tireless exertions that the result has a fair degree of accuracy. I must relieve him of too great a responsibility, however, for I confess that here and there where it seemed to me imperative to put in a word or two more than was in the original in order to convey the necessary impression to an English reader, or where several lines of metre would have been upset if he wouldn’t let me have the word I wanted, I have just taken the bit between my teeth and run away from him. But this has happened seldom, and on the whole I think it will be found that the English version bears close comparison with the Japanese.

I've worked hard in my translations to make the lines flow smoothly enough to be read aloud without too much annoyance, and although I haven't fully succeeded, I aimed to give them as much beauty as I could within the constraints of the literal Japanese meaning.[32] My collaborator, Prof. Sakurai, has sometimes held me back when I wanted to add poetic flourishes, and it's thanks to his tireless efforts that the result is fairly accurate. However, I don’t want to put too much responsibility on him because I admit that occasionally, when I felt it was essential to add a word or two to convey the right impression to an English reader, or when several lines of meter would have been disrupted if I couldn't use the word I wanted, I decided to take matters into my own hands. But this hasn’t happened often, and overall, I think you’ll find that the English version closely matches the Japanese.

Now a word regarding the type of verse that is used by those who translate into a recognisable English form. Of these the translations in Prof. Chamberlain’s Classical Poetry of the Japanese of four of the finest and most renowned utai of the Nō are models to be considered by any later translator. Prof. Chamberlain puts the “words” into prose, and the “songs” into rhymed verse.

Now let's talk about the kind of verse used by translators who convert it into a recognizable English form. Among these, the translations in Prof. Chamberlain’s Classical Poetry of the Japanese of four of the best-known and most celebrated utai of the Nō are examples that any future translator should study. Prof. Chamberlain presents the “words” in prose and the “songs” in rhymed verse.

The chorus at the end of the Robe of Feathers is a good example of this easily flowing verse (p. 146)—

The chorus at the end of the Robe of Feathers is a great example of this smooth, flowing verse (p. 146)—

"Keep dancing, sweet girl, through the joyful moments!" Dance on, sweet girl, while the magic flowers Crowning your hair fluttering in the wind Raised by your waving intertwined wings!
Keep dancing! For a mortal will never get the chance to dance again. To compete with that lovely dance you bring from heaven: And when, soaring through the clouds, you will all too soon Heading home under the bright full moon,
[33] Then listen to our prayers, and from your generous hand Pour sevenfold blessings on our joyful land; Bless every coast, refresh every tired field,
"May the earth continue to produce what it is meant to!"

But to my ear such consistently rhymed verse does not convey any suggestion of the sound of the Japanese chants. As Captain Brinkley has it, “by obeying the exigencies of rhyme, whereas the original demands rhythm only (‘the learned sinologues, their translators’), have obtained elegance at the partial expense of fidelity.” It is true that a less formal versifying, such as I have used, does not represent truly the Japanese effect either—nothing can; but it seems less out of harmony with its character than do the rhyming stanzas. Then also I found that short rhymed lines render one liable to strain the sense a little in order to make things fit in. Longer lines, without such regular rhyming, allow one more play, and this enables one to follow the words suggested directly by the Japanese. Since then also Prof. Chamberlain’s own taste has changed and he has “gone over to the camp of the literalists.”

But for me, consistently rhymed verses don’t capture the essence of Japanese chants. As Captain Brinkley puts it, “by sticking to the demands of rhyme, while the original only requires rhythm (‘the learned sinologues, their translators’), they have achieved elegance at the cost of some fidelity.” It’s true that a more casual approach, like the one I’ve used, doesn’t fully represent the Japanese feel either—nothing truly can; but it seems to resonate more with its nature than the rhymed stanzas do. I also noticed that short rhymed lines can force a bit of a stretch in meaning to fit everything in. Longer lines, without strict rhyming, give more flexibility, which helps in following the words directly suggested by the Japanese. Plus, Professor Chamberlain’s taste has evolved, and he has “joined the literalists.”

In two of the pieces I have put the “words” into a longer metre to indicate the difference between them and the “songs.” But I find this makes an added difficulty for any one reading aloud, without much enhancing the accuracy of the whole, so that in Kagekiyo I have made no distinction between the various parts of the text. In listening to a Japanese Nō performance one could not really tell where the “words” left off and the “songs” began, and also, as I have previously noted (p. 24), the poems are connected to the prose by irregularly dispersed poetical lines. Finally,

In two of the pieces, I've put the “words” into a longer meter to emphasize the difference between them and the “songs.” However, I find that this creates additional challenges for anyone reading aloud, without significantly improving the overall accuracy. So in Kagekiyo, I haven't made any distinction between the different parts of the text. When listening to a Japanese Nō performance, you can't really tell where the “words” end and the “songs” begin. Additionally, as I noted earlier (p. 24), the poems are linked to the prose by irregularly scattered poetic lines. Finally,

[34]

In Conclusion

as none of the prose in the least corresponds to our prose, and as it is not given in the ordinary speaking voice of the Japanese, but is always specially intoned, it seems to me much more suitable and harmonious to render the whole utai in verse of various kinds.

as none of the prose even slightly matches our prose, and since it’s not expressed in the typical speaking voice of the Japanese, but is always specially intoned, I find it much more appropriate and harmonious to present the whole utai in different types of verse.

Even this little book has been the task of years, despite its many imperfections. It was undertaken primarily because I delighted in the Nō, and the labour of bringing it through the Press was rendered lighter by the hope that it might give pleasure to the English reading public to see, even “through a glass darkly,” something of the beauty of this unexplored literature. I have already described the effect these plays have on the Japanese and on me. That I have caught perhaps an echo of their spirit I am encouraged to think, because on the two occasions when one or other of these translations have been read to audiences it has been reported to me that several of those who heard them were in tears. That strikes the right note. For with all their literary richness and their descriptions of beautiful scenes and of heroic deeds, the ground note of the Nō is human tragedy. Their tragedy is of the fundamental, elemental kind that depends upon the very nature of our being, that turns upon the terrible fact which the trivialities of the material world so readily delude us into forgetting—that we are fleeting as a drop of dew.

Even this little book has taken years to complete, despite its many flaws. I started this project mainly because I enjoyed the Nō, and the work of publishing it felt lighter because I hoped it would bring pleasure to English readers by showing them, even if just “through a glass darkly,” a glimpse of the beauty in this unexplored literature. I've already shared how these plays affect both the Japanese and me. I believe I’ve captured a bit of their spirit, as I've been told that during the two times these translations were read to audiences, several listeners were brought to tears. That feels like the right response. For all their literary depth and vivid descriptions of beautiful scenes and heroic deeds, the core of the Nō is human tragedy. Their tragedy is fundamental and elemental, rooted in the very essence of our existence, reminding us of the harsh reality that the trivialities of the material world often make us forget—that we are as fleeting as a drop of dew.

Marie C. Stopes.

[35]

THE MAIDEN’S TOMB

Authorship of the Play

This piece is now commonly attributed to Kiyotsugu, and is supposed to have been produced at the end of the fourteenth century. Its exact date is not known, but Kiyotsugu was born in 1354 and died in 1406; yet it is most likely that he was an adapter and not the original author of the utai, parts of which were probably written long before his time. The play is still one of the most important of the Nō, and is indeed a test piece, as parts of the Shite’s chanting are exceptionally difficult. A foreigner cannot judge of this, but from my own point of view it is perhaps the finest of all the Nō.

This piece is now often attributed to Kiyotsugu and is believed to have been created at the end of the fourteenth century. The exact date isn't known, but Kiyotsugu was born in 1354 and died in 1406; however, it's most likely that he was an adapter and not the original author of the utai, parts of which were probably written long before his time. The play remains one of the most important in the Nō tradition and is indeed a test piece, as some parts of the Shite’s chanting are exceptionally difficult. A foreigner can't really judge this, but from my perspective, it might be the finest of all the Nō.

Outline of the Story

The play is based on a story told—or rather written down, for it was probably told long before then—a thousand years ago in the Yamato Monogatari, or Tales of Japan. It is the story of the love of two men for one woman, and the fatal consequences thereof for all concerned.

The play is based on a story that was told—or rather written down, since it was likely shared long before then—over a thousand years ago in the Yamato Monogatari, or Tales of Japan. It tells the story of two men who love the same woman and the tragic outcomes for everyone involved.

UNAI, a maiden living near Ikuta, was loved by two equally gifted men. On the selfsame day they each sent her a letter declaring their passion, but she could not decide between them, fearing the anger of either rejected suitor. Her father determined that the one who shot most accurately should win her, but in[36] the contest the two men pierced the same wing of the same bird with their arrows. This bird was a mandarin duck, a creature whose lifelong faithfulness to its mate was proverbial in Japan. The girl felt bitterly that she was to blame for the death of the bird and the misery its mate endured, as well as for the strife between the two men. Hence she drowned herself. Then the two men, visiting her tomb, were filled with remorse, and killed each other beside her grave. This, however, only added to the girl’s guilt, and much of the play is taken up with vivid descriptions of her agonising torments in the eight hells believed in by popular Buddhism.

UNAI, a young woman living near Ikuta, was loved by two equally talented men. On the same day, they both sent her letters expressing their love, but she couldn't choose between them, afraid of angering either rejected suitor. Her father decided that the one who shot most accurately should win her. However, in the contest, both men hit the same wing of the same bird with their arrows. This bird was a mandarin duck, known in Japan for its lifelong loyalty to its mate. The girl felt deeply that she was responsible for the death of the bird and the suffering of its mate, as well as for the conflict between the two men. As a result, she drowned herself. Later, the two men visited her grave, filled with regret, and killed each other beside her tomb. This, however, only added to the girl's guilt, and much of the story focuses on vivid descriptions of her intense suffering in the eight hells as understood by popular Buddhism.

The play opens with a traveller Priest passing the village of Ikuta on his way to the capital. It is early spring, and the village maidens are out gathering the first green shoots of the “seven herbs,” which used to be eaten at the beginning of the year as a kind of ceremony. The city folk make this herb-gathering a pleasure picnic, but the poor girls going out of necessity into the biting cold of January are envious of those who are better off in cities. The spirit of the long dead UNAI has joined them in the form of a young girl, but she takes part in the opening dialogue. The “Maiden’s (i. e. UNAI’S) Tomb” is one of the famous places in the district, and the Priest asks to see it. UNAI’S spirit remains behind when the village girls have been driven home by the cold, and she conducts the Priest to the tomb, conversing with him, and telling him the story of UNAI. Her spirit’s materialisation as a maiden then vanishes, and UNAI appears as a Ghost, for whom the Priest prays. The Ghost laments[37] over the tomb, and the Chorus gives expression to her longing for the human world. The Ghost expresses her thankfulness for the prayer uttered by the Priest, and recounts her agonising sufferings in the eight hells. The Priest makes some effort, but not a very determined one, to inculcate in the poor Ghost the higher Buddhistic belief that all these things, even the hells, are delusions, and her mind could free herself of them. The play closes with the Chorus telling of her miseries in hell.

The play starts with a traveling priest passing through the village of Ikuta on his way to the capital. It's early spring, and the village girls are out picking the first green shoots of the “seven herbs,” which used to be eaten at the New Year as part of a ceremony. The townspeople treat this herb-gathering as a fun picnic, but the poor girls, forced to go out into the biting cold of January, envy those who are more fortunate in the city. The spirit of the long-gone UNAI appears as a young girl and participates in the opening conversation. The “Maiden’s (i.e. UNAI’S) Tomb” is one of the well-known spots in the area, and the priest asks to see it. UNAI’S spirit stays behind when the village girls are sent home by the cold. She leads the priest to the tomb, talking to him and sharing the story of UNAI. Her form as a maiden then vanishes, and UNAI appears as a ghost, for whom the priest prays. The ghost mourns over the tomb, and the Chorus expresses her yearning for the human world. The ghost expresses her gratitude for the priest's prayer and recounts her agonizing sufferings in the eight hells. The priest makes some effort, although not a very strong one, to teach the poor ghost the higher Buddhist belief that all these experiences, including the hells, are illusions, and that her mind could break free from them. The play ends with the Chorus recounting her torments in hell.

Comments on the Play

In its construction, and its presentment of the story as a whole, this play resembles strikingly one of the beautiful tryptic colour prints of Japan, in which an exquisite, softly coloured garden or woodland foreground, shaded with delicate mists, brings into intense relief the vivid figure of an armoured warrior going out to battle. In the opening passages of this play we have the soft, misted foreground, with the tender green shoots of the early spring-time. One sees the thin, frosted ice pushing aside the sprouting plants, and the scene is enhanced and the description of it embroidered by poetic references to the details of the picture. But among the maidens is one, outwardly like others, so that they do not recognise the difference themselves, but yet one who is a tragic figure, a temporary reincarnation of a spirit from hell. Then with the Priest the spirit converses, and paints in vivid colours this central figure, for whom the whole scene forms but the setting.

In its structure and the way it presents the story overall, this play strikingly resembles one of those beautiful triptych color prints from Japan. In these prints, a stunning, softly colored garden or woodland foreground, covered with gentle mists, highlights the vivid figure of an armored warrior heading into battle. In the opening scenes of this play, we have that soft, misty foreground, with the tender green shoots of early spring. You can see the thin, frosted ice pushing aside the sprouting plants, and the scene is enhanced, with poetic references weaving through the details of the picture. But among the maidens is one who looks just like the others, so they don’t notice the difference, yet she is a tragic figure—a temporary reincarnation of a spirit from hell. Then, with the Priest, the spirit speaks and vividly describes this central figure, for whom the whole scene serves merely as a backdrop.

To us in the West the moral attitude of the play[38] seems very strange. From her initial ‘sin’ in being sufficiently beautiful to attract the love of two men, and her guilt in causing the death of the mandarin duck (in a Buddhistic country no small crime), we see crime after crime laid upon the maiden’s head. And all the time in our eyes she appears utterly innocent of everything save a too ready yielding to a tender conscience, and a willingness to take blame upon herself. Hapless maiden, how different is this treatment of hers from that accorded in the West to charming girls. In Old Japan not all the eight hells would have been accounted sufficient for Helen of Troy.

To us in the West, the moral stance of the play[38] seems very odd. From her initial “sin” of being attractive enough to win the affection of two men, and her guilt over the death of the mandarin duck (a serious offense in a Buddhist country), we see one crime after another piled onto the young woman. Yet to us, she appears completely innocent of everything except a tendency to be overly sympathetic and a willingness to take the blame for things. Poor girl, how different is this treatment compared to how charming girls are treated in the West. In ancient Japan, not even all eight hells would have been enough punishment for Helen of Troy.

In its religious attitude we see the popular beliefs of Buddhism contrasted with the higher form of the same religion. The circumstantial details of the hells and punishments were believed in by the common folk, but as the Priest says (on p. 49) all was delusion, both in the world and in heaven or hell, and the soul could escape from its torments by a recognition of this higher fact.

In its religious view, we see the common beliefs of Buddhism contrasted with the more advanced aspects of the same religion. The everyday details about hell and punishments were accepted by regular people, but as the Priest mentions (on p. 49), all of that was an illusion, both in the world and in heaven or hell, and the soul could break free from its suffering by understanding this deeper truth.

If only you would just let go once. The clouds of your delusions, you would be Freed from your many sins and all troubles.

[39]

THE MAIDEN’S TOMB [8]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

The Maiden UNAI (really her spirit temporarily incarnated as a maiden)	(Shite)
Two of the Village Maidens	(Tsure)
A Priest	(Waki)
The Ghost of the Maiden UNAI	(Nochi-jite)
Chorus

Plate 6.

THE MAIDEN’S TOMB

The Maiden's Tomb

This illustration, from a Japanese coloured woodcut, shows the figure of the maiden Unai (see p. 35), who wears a dress resembling that still worn by country maidens, though with the volume of the garment and the size of the patterns both a little more exaggerated than those which are now customary. The designer of the woodcut has put in symbolic and formalized representations of the Mandarin ducks and the flames of hell-fire which were among Unai’s torments.

This illustration, from a Japanese colored woodcut, shows the figure of the maiden Unai (see p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__), who wears a dress similar to what country maidens wear today, although the volume of the garment and the size of the patterns are somewhat more exaggerated than what is currently typical. The designer of the woodcut has included symbolic and stylized representations of the Mandarin ducks and the flames of hell that were part of Unai’s torments.

SCENE

The fields of ONO near the hamlet of IKUTA in Settsu, in the early spring.

The fields of ONO close to the village of IKUTA in Settsu, during early spring.

[The Priest enters]

PRIEST

I've traveled far across the countryside, My journey has taken me far across the countryside,
And I hurry to the capital.

I am a priest from the countryside, specifically from the western regions.[9]
To the capital, which I have never seen until now.

The paths along the coast are numerous,
The paths along the coast are numerous,
On this journey I've mapped out, and often I've traveled by boat across the sea. Across the vast sea and mountains I watched the sun rise and set again,
And now I've arrived at Ikuta, which I'm familiar with.[40] Only by name, like in Tsu province's fair,
I have now arrived at the village of Ikuta.

SPIRIT AND MAIDENS

SPIRIT AND GIRLS

We collect green shoots, fresh young shoots of spring,
And here in Ono, the wind from Ikuta blows The morning breeze is so cool, so cool and strong. It twists and puffs out our flapping sleeves.[10]

MAIDENS

Girls

While in the faraway mountains, among the pines The snow still hasn't melted away.

SPIRIT AND MAIDENS

SPIRIT AND GIRLS

Oh, close to the Capital, the time has arrived. To collect the sprouts of spring in the fields.
Thinking about that makes us really happy.

SPIRIT

But this place is far from the Capital,

MAIDENS

Young women

We are country people, so we live A simple life here by Ikuta’s sea.
Our lives and work are the least esteemed. And to the Ono field every year
We arrive without the idea of pleasure.[11]
The footprints of the many villagers
That go out to collect the young shoots of spring. Have left broad tracks across the snowy field.

And walk a path where there wouldn't be one otherwise.
And walk a path where there wouldn’t be one otherwise.
[41]

The young green shoots that grow in the fields and marshes We now need to come together. Once the snow has melted. They will have already become too old—
Even though the wind still blows cold through the shady grove And on the field of Ono, there's snow,
The seven herbs of early spring emerge. In Ikuta, let's pick the shoots,
In Ikuta, let's gather the sprouts.

PRIEST

Hey everyone, can you let me know if I’m getting close to Ikuta?

MAIDENS

GIRLS

As you know the name of Ikuta
There was no need for you to ask us that!

SPIRIT

Don't you know it from all the views What shows the place scattered far and wide?

First of all, don't you know it as the Ikuta forest? Look at the many grouped tree tops that reflect its name.[12]

MAIDENS

Young women

And there is the stream you have now chosen to cross,
It's the famous river Ikuta.

SPIRIT

VIBE

In the early days of spring (like the shallow parts of the river)
Do we come together under the snowy blanket, the young sprouts of the field?

[42]

MAIDENS

Girls

And this area, too, where small plants are still growing
Why are you growing? Don’t you know it? [13]

SPIRIT AND MAIDENS

SPIRIT AND GIRLS

The lovely wild cherry blossoms that bloom In Miyoshino and in Shiga as well,
The maple leaves of Tatsuta and those
Of Hatsuse—they would definitely be recognized. By those who lived near the poet's home.
But we, even though we live here, do not know The forest or grove of Ikuta.
So don’t ask us, because we don’t know anything here.

PRIEST

Ah yes. Unfolding right before my eyes. The sights I'm familiar with—the forest, river, sea,
And now, the scenes of Ono unfold in the mist!

So, where is the famous tomb of Ikuta, the Maiden’s Tomb?

SPIRIT

Vibe

Ah, truly, the Maiden’s Tomb! That's a place I've heard of; I have no idea where it is, really, I don’t know at all.

MAIDENS

Young women

But please, traveler, these pointless things Please don’t ask us; we value the time [14]
When we can collect these young spring shoots.

[43]

SPIRIT

Vibe

And you yourself are also traveling quickly,
So why are you staying with us here?

MAIDENS

GIRLS

An ancient poem includes the words—

CHORUS [15]

"A delightful obstacle for the traveler
Are they the ones who pick young shoots in Ono’s field? In Ikuta.”__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ So why ask pointless questions?

"You, Watchman of the field of Tobuhi
"That’s in Kasugano, go check it out," "You, Watchman of the field of Tobuhi
That is in Kasugano, go take a look. "If it's not time to pick the shoots yet." __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
You, traveler, who is heading to the capital
Likewise, how fast are you moving? How many days do you have? "For his sake, I go to the spring fields
To collect the young shoots, even on my robe
"Hold on to the cold, unmelted flakes of snow." [18]
Let's come together, even though it's snowy. And on the marsh, the thin ice is still there,
Pushing aside the growing watercress,
Let's gather the green shoots now. Let's gather the green shoots.

[44]

III

Would there be a lot to collect? For the spring
It's still very early—and the young shoots are hidden.

SPIRIT

"Spring is here, but as I look at the snow
"On the plain, I reflect on the past year." [19]
The young green shoots this year are still few. So we need to gather those with older leaves.

CHORUS

And yet, even though the leaves are old and dry The young green shoots are as fresh as the new year. Protect yourself, oh field of the young spring!

SPIRIT

To the spring field,
To the spring field,
To pick violets He arrived, and then Just purple leaves Of the weeds removed he Who showed up?

CHORUS

Ah, yes, the color of connection [20]
Has brought to my sad mind the memory Of Love’s bright bridge that was torn apart.[21]

SPIRIT

Vibe

The old stems of plants that have already gone to seed
In the Sano district, it may still grow again,

[45]

CHORUS

And their green color will be dyed purple.

SPIRIT

Vibe

The Shepherd’s Purse of Chōan—[22]

CHORUS

And the hot shepherd's purse, a pointless thing,
And other white-rooted herbs, like the dawn,[23]
Which, covered by the snow, we might misinterpret And meet in the location of those we want.

CHORUS

The morning breeze in Ono is still cold. The lower branches of the pine trees still Are covered in snow. Where is spring hiding? We can't say. And even though the river breeze The wind blows cold, and our billowing sleeves are even colder. Let's go home, even though we're leaving without picking anything. Some of the young green shoots, let's head home.

PRIEST

Now there's something I want to talk to you about if you allow it—
All the young women who were picking the fresh greens have left. Save yourself, and why are you the only one left with me?

SPIRIT

VIBE

You just asked me about the Maiden’s Tomb. I'll show you.

[46]

PRIEST

Yes, I really want to see it, so please show me.

SPIRIT

Vibe

Follow this path with honor. And this is the Maiden’s Tomb!

PRIEST

What is its history, and why is the Maiden’s Tomb called that? Please tell the story in detail.

SPIRIT

Then I will share the story. Once upon a time, there was a maiden named Unai who lived here,
There were two men named Chinu and Sasada, and they loved her. And on that same day, at the same hour, both declared to her Intense love, they wrote two letters. However, she believed that if she gave in To one, the other’s anger would be strong, and so to neither Would she agree (and then her father said the best shot should win her).
But on Ikuta's river, the two men's flying arrows If you shoot one waterfowl, you hit the same wing.

And then I realized how cruel I am now.[24]
[47] The wild bird's vow, though promised deeply and sincerely Is broken for me, and the happy couple—
Mandarin ducks—just for my sake they must endure
The pain of separation. Sad!
So, feeling down about my life, I would throw myself
Into Ikuta River’s flowing tide [25]
Here in the land of Tsu, Ikuta stands. Just a name to someone like me.

CHORUS

These were her last words as she went on her way
Into the river’s water. When they discovered
They buried her under this pile of clay.
Then the two men, her lovers, came looking for Her tomb. They said we will no longer live,
And like the Ikuta stream, the tide From their regret arose. Each with his sword
Ended someone's life.

And that was also my sin! That was my sin too!
What may become of someone who is so full Of sins? I beg you, please help me!
Saying that, she sank beneath the tomb once more. Yeah, she sank down beneath the tomb once again.

[Ghost of Unai appears]

PRIEST

Short like a young stag's antlers in the summer __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ The night of rest! Weeds are growing on her grave,
And from their shade, the ghost reappears. I’ll raise the voice of prayer. “You spirit soul,
Awaken to true understanding,
[48] Enter Nirvana, leaving you behind
"Delusions about your life and your death." __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__

GHOST

Oh, the vast field, how empty it is—
Just my empty grave and nothing more!
Only wild animals fighting over the dead Which come and go in darkness, and over the grave The watching spirits soaring in the wind That circling keeps hitting the pines. The light of heaven and the morning dew
Are still in my view, and symbolize
The world of Earth is just as temporary as they are.
How many of the lonely graves are there? Of youth, whose lives are so different from the name Of Ikuta, known as the field of life.

CHORUS

A man comes from the world I left behind long ago.
How grateful I am. It’s the voice of prayer!

CHORUS

O human world. How I yearn for you.

A [living] man while living [in this world]
Even just one day and one night,
A [living] man while living [in this world]
Even one day and one night,
He has eight billion and four thousand things. To consider. But how much more do I,
[49] I, who left the enjoyable world a long time ago—
It was during the reign of Tenchi, and by this time The second Horikawa is in control. Oh, once again to the lovely world I might come back. How long in the shady weeds And under the moss, how long I lie buried!
But worse, not buried beneath the cool ground
I'm experiencing intense heat and burning, In a burning house, look! In a burning house, look!

PRIEST

Unfortunately! How truly sad is your situation,
If only you would just let go once The clouds of your delusions, you would be
Freed from your many sins and from all troubles. "From all evils and sins, from hell and demons,
"Illnesses and deaths, may you be free." Oh, quickly immerse yourself in uplifting thoughts!

GHOST

I'm thankful for the power of prayer. I've heard, and even though my pain Know no break, in scorching hell. The smoke clears for a moment, and I see
A little bit of open space. I’m so glad!

Oh, how awful! Who are you? What! Is it Sasada the spirit? Are you the ghost of Chinu? And you hold me from both sides. By their hands, and saying to me, “Come, come, come.” Even though they torment me.[50] I’m afraid to leave the safety of my burning house because no one,
There's nothing to depend on. And I see another spirit. Flying from a distance toward me. Oh, how awful! I see it,
It’s the duck, and it has turned to iron, turned to steel right in front of me!

With beaks of steel like bare swords, the bird Pecks at my head and feeds on my brain.
Is it because of the crimes I committed? Oh, how bitter it is, cruel bird!

Oh! Please, Priest, I beg you to free me from this suffering!

PRIEST

"The time of intense suffering has now come." The spirit hadn't finished saying this, When a group of flames erupted over the tomb.

GHOST

GHOSTED

And then its light turned into a terrifying monster,

PRIEST

Who lifted the torture rod and aimed it at her.

GHOST

Before me is a sea if I try
But to move forward

PRIEST

While the flames are at the back.

[51]

GHOST

And to the left.

PRIEST

And on the right side too.

GHOST

I am currently restrained by both water and fire. In double trouble.

PRIEST

Completely helpless.

GHOST

When to the pillar of the burning house

CHORUS

I reach out my hands and try to hold on. Suddenly, the column erupts in flames—
I must then embrace the blazing pillar.
Oh, it's so hot! Oh, unbearable! The whole five parts of my body turned. Into black smoke by this intense fire.

GHOST

And then when I got up—

CHORUS

And then when I got up, a jailer demon Used the torture device and forced me out.
I left the house and roamed through eight hells. And there, I endured all the suffering. Now I will show you how I erased[52] My numerous sins. Before you, the scenes lie. First in the nightmare of total equality,[28]
Then in the hell of black rope, the devil led, And forced into the hell of gathering,
Where everyone gathers. Then the chaos of screams,
Next came bitter cries, and then the heat, Of extreme heat, and then the depths of hell,
Endless depth, into which I plunged Feet up and head down for three years. And for three more months, in pain all the while.
And after a short break—
The demons abandoned me and the flames went out,
I thought there was a break from my pain,
But then the darkness became even more frightening
And I would go back to my burning house. I was thinking—but where was it then? To myself I asked the question in the pitch black. And searching, searching, back and forth I felt around. "The Maiden’s Tomb"—I looked for it everywhere,
And finally, I’ve found “The Maiden’s Tomb.”
Like dew drops flying away from a grassy shade, Like flying dew drops leaving a grassy shade,
The spirit’s form has vanished again. The spirit's shadow has now disappeared.

END OF “THE MAIDEN’S TOMB”

(The play ends thus abruptly, leaving us in doubt as to whether or not the Priest’s admonition prevailed, and she escaped into Nirvana.)

(The play ends abruptly, leaving us uncertain about whether the Priest’s warning had any effect, and if she managed to escape into Nirvana.)

[53]

KAGEKIYO [29]

Authorship of the Play

This Play was probably written about 1410; at any rate in the first quarter of the fifteenth century. Its author was Motokiyo, who was born in 1374 and who died in 1455. He was the eldest son of the famous Kiyotsugu (see p. 7).

This play was likely written around 1410, definitely in the first quarter of the fifteenth century. Its author was Motokiyo, who was born in 1374 and died in 1455. He was the oldest son of the renowned Kiyotsugu (see p. 7).

Outline of the Story

The time of the action of the play is about the year 1190, and Kagekiyo, the hero of the story, is a very renowned warrior of the Taira clan. The Taira and the Minamoto (Gen) clans were rivals and were perpetually at war; during the years 1156-1185 more particularly this struggle culminated, when Japan had her “Wars of the Roses.”

The action of the play takes place around 1190, and Kagekiyo, the main character, is a well-known warrior of the Taira clan. The Taira and Minamoto (Gen) clans were rivals and were constantly at war; during the years 1156-1185, this conflict peaked, when Japan experienced its own version of the "Wars of the Roses."

Kagekiyo, known as the Boisterous, owing to his uneven temper and ready appeals to arms, was a famous warrior of the Taira clan, and when the Minamoto Shōgunate was established at Kamakura, Kagekiyo was exiled to a distant place in Hiuga, where he became blind and passed a miserable existence as a beggar. He had a daughter called Hitomaru, whom he left in Kamakura in the charge of a lady. At the time of the play, Hitomaru has just grown up to be a young lady, but she had a great desire to meet her father, and so set out with a servant to seek him. She has a long and arduous journey to the place of her father’s exile, and after[54] enduring considerable hardships she at last finds Kagekiyo’s retreat. She and her servant encounter a villager who assists them in the final search for Kagekiyo, and they make inquiries of a blind beggar dwelling in a miserable straw hut. This beggar is actually Kagekiyo, but at first he refuses to answer them or to acknowledge it, out of shame and consideration for his daughter. Ultimately, however, he recounts to her some of his adventures, and then he commands her to leave him and they part for ever.

Kagekiyo, known as the Boisterous because of his uneven temper and quickness to fight, was a famous warrior of the Taira clan. When the Minamoto Shōgunate was established in Kamakura, Kagekiyo was exiled to a remote place in Hiuga, where he became blind and lived a miserable life as a beggar. He had a daughter named Hitomaru, whom he left in Kamakura under the care of a lady. At the time of the play, Hitomaru has just grown up into a young lady but has a strong desire to meet her father, so she sets out with a servant to find him. She faces a long and tough journey to her father's exile, and after enduring serious hardships, she eventually finds Kagekiyo’s hiding place. Along the way, she and her servant meet a villager who helps them in their final search for Kagekiyo, and they ask a blind beggar living in a shabby straw hut about him. This beggar is actually Kagekiyo, but at first, he refuses to answer them or admit who he is, out of shame and respect for his daughter. In the end, however, he shares some of his adventures with her, and then he tells her to leave him, and they part forever.

Comments on the Play

In this play there is perhaps less description of the beauties of Nature than in many of the Nō, but the opening lines are particularly fraught with the meaning which permeates the whole play.

In this play, there’s maybe less description of the beauty of Nature than in many of the Nō, but the opening lines are especially packed with the meaning that runs throughout the entire play.

The dew stays until the wind blows.

The comparison of human life to a drop of dew is one frequently made in the literature of the Nō. Throughout this play there are many phrases showing how deeply the characters feel the transitoriness of human life. After Hitomaru’s longing for a place to rest a little while, Kagekiyo exclaims—

The comparison of human life to a drop of dew is one often made in the literature of the Nō. Throughout this play, there are many phrases that show how deeply the characters feel the fleeting nature of human life. After Hitomaru expresses a desire for a place to rest for a bit, Kagekiyo exclaims—

No, there isn't a place in the three worlds.

Kagekiyo’s behaviour to his child, and his reception of her after her long search for him, appears to us to be most cruel; but it is, nevertheless, based on the conceptions of the chivalry of his time. Kagekiyo’s leading thought was the really unselfish desire to keep the[55] shame of his condition from touching his daughter. His first wish is that she shall not even recognise or speak with him; but when this is frustrated, he commands both the servant and the villager to send her back immediately their short meeting is over. And yet he does not seek even a moment’s embrace, nor does he use an endearing phrase to his daughter. The play is a good illustration of the way that the old codes of Japanese chivalry imposed courses of action which seem now in this softer age well-nigh inhuman in their repression and conquest of the natural feelings.

Kagekiyo’s behavior towards his child, and how he receives her after her long search, seems incredibly cruel to us; however, it’s rooted in the ideals of chivalry from his era. Kagekiyo’s main concern is his selfless desire to protect his daughter from the shame of his situation. His first wish is for her not to even recognize or speak to him; but when that doesn't happen, he orders both the servant and the villager to send her back as soon as their brief meeting is over. Yet, he doesn't even seek a moment’s embrace, nor does he use any affectionate terms with his daughter. The play illustrates how the old codes of Japanese chivalry led to actions that now, in this more sensitive time, seem almost inhumane in their repression and control of natural emotions.

[56]

KAGEKIYO [30]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

Kagekiyo	Shite
Hitomaru, Kagekiyo’s daughter	Tsure
Servant to Hitomaru
Villager	Waki
Chorus

SCENE

A mountain side at Miyasaki in the province of Hiuga. Time about 1190.

A mountainside at Miyasaki in the Hiuga province. Around 1190.

HITOMARU AND SERVANT

HITOMARU AND ASSISTANT

The dew stays until the wind blows,
The dew stays until the wind blows. My own life is as brief as a drop of dew,
What will happen to me as time goes on?

HITOMARU

My name is Hitomaru, and I am
A young woman living in Kamakura __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. My father's name is Kagekiyo, also known as
By some he's Boisterous, and he is a friend. Of the Hei__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ clan, the Taira family And so the Gen__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ house is greatly disliked. To Miyasaki exiled, in Hyuga He reluctantly allows months and years to go by in shame. Traveling in unfamiliar ways has worn me out,
And yet unavoidable fatigue[57] I cope by focusing on my journey,
And I gain strength for my father's sake.

HITOMARU AND SERVANT

Hitomaru and servant

Tears from restless sleep stream down my face
And to the dew on the soft grass Add drops that soak my sleeves.

We set out from Sagami province,
We set out from the province of Sagami,
Asking those we met, which road to take
Heading toward our destination. And we passed
The province of Tōtōmi,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ and traveled by boat. The far-off bay. And we went past Mikana,
By Mikana, stretched across with eight bridges.
Oh, I wish we could get used to this quickly. To our short nights of sleep where we can dream
Of the lofty capital above the clouds,
Of the great city high above the clouds.

SERVANT

ASSISTANT

Strived as you honorably have
To speed things up, right now
This is called Miyasaki,
You have honorably arrived at Hiuga. This is the place to respectfully ask
Your honorable father's location.

KAGEKIYO

Kagekiyo

[Evident to the audience, but supposed to be hidden from the other actors.]

[Clear to the audience, but intended to be concealed from the other actors.]

The pine trees that have endured many long months and years Weave together to create the arching canopies.
[58] Yet I, shut out from the bright light of day
Notice no indication that time is moving on.
Here, resting in a dark and humble hut I spend all my time sleeping. The seasons shift.
But my clothes aren't made for heat or cold. And my body has shriveled to a skeleton.

CHORUS

If someone has to leave this world, then black,
He should have his sleeves dyed black. Then definitely black. His sleeves should be dyed, yet my sleeves—
Oh, more disgraceful! So utterly I’m tired and worn out, that’s how I feel. I feel really repulsed by my miserable self. So who could be kind enough to To experience such a level of misery? No one asking about my suffering
Will ever come. No one asking about my suffering
Will ever come.

HITOMARU

It's amazing that someone would live inside
That awful hut, it doesn't seem to be Suitable for living. Oddly enough, though
I heard a voice coming from its wall.
It must be a beggar's home. I'm afraid,
And stay away from the humble home.

KAGEKIYO

With autumn here now, I cannot see,
And yet I feel it because the wind has brought News from somewhere, though I don't know where.

[59]

HITOMARU

Ah, not knowing where my father is I wander in misery, with nowhere to go.
Where I can relax for even a little bit.

KAGEKIYO

Kagekiyo

No, in all three worlds, there isn’t a place, It's only in the heavenly expanse.[34]
Pick any man and ask him, he will tell you “Where else!” And what else could he possibly say?

SERVANT

ASSISTANT

Hey there, you in the thatched hut, I want to ask you A question for you.

KAGEKIYO

Well, what is it?

SERVANT

ASSISTANT

Do you know where an exiled man lives?

KAGEKIYO

Even though he's an exile, what is his name?

SERVANT

ASSISTANT

He is called the Boisterous Kagekiyo,
And from the Taira family, a warrior.

KAGEKIYO

Yes, I believe I've heard of him. Although I’ve never seen the man, he is blind. Miserable, his esteemed position!
Hearing about it fills me with compassion. Please check elsewhere for the complete story.

[60]

SERVANT

ASSISTANT

Then he doesn't seem to be around here.

[To his mistress]

[To his partner]

But later on, we should look into it again. If you will respectfully continue now.

KAGEKIYO

Kagekiyo

The woman who was just here—Wait! Why isn't she The very child of this same blind man? A long time ago, at Atsuta
I met a woman, and this child is mine. It was a girl,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, and I believed her. To Kamegaegatsu’s mistress. Now a grieving parent meets with their estranged child; She, talking to her father, doesn’t realize it.

CHORUS

I can't see her, but I can hear her voice, How unfortunate my blindness is! Without a word
I let her go by. And yet that action is
Due to the genuine bond of a parent's love,
Due to the bond of a parent's love.

SERVANT

ASSISTANT

Hey there! Are you a villager?

VILLAGER

And to the Villager, what do you have then? Of respectable business?

SERVANT

ASSISTANT

Do you know
Where does an exiled man live?

[61]

VILLAGER

Villager

What kind of man—
Even though he is an exile—who are you asking about?

SERVANT

ASSISTANT

A fighter from the Hei house, known as
I am looking for Kagekiyo the Boist’rous.

VILLAGER

Just now as you have come along this way On the hillside, there was a hut, A thatch-roofed hut with someone inside?

SERVANT

ASSISTANT

Yes, a blind beggar sat inside the hut.

VILLAGER

Sure. That blind beggar is the person you're looking for,
The exact Kagekiyo you're looking for!
How weird! When I mentioned Kagekiyo’s name
That honorable lady over there did graciously To display a sad expression. Why was that?

SERVANT

ASSISTANT

Your wonder is completely understandable. Nothing Should I hide from you? Kagekiyo’s
Most honorable daughter is the maid
Who hopes to meet her respected father once again.
That being said, and as observed from a distance
She has come here, please come up with a plan. Some appropriate way of speaking in person
With Kagekiyo.

[62]

VILLAGER

Oh, unspeakable!
Is she his esteemed daughter then?
Well, take a deep breath, and I hope you choose to listen. The vision of both eyes that Kagekiyo lost; Feeling powerless, he chopped off his hair and called
Kōtau of Hiuga himself is begging. Due to his meager earnings from the travelers,
And with the pity for such humble people
Like us, he just keeps going with his life. And he doesn't reveal his name must be It's disappointing compared to the past. I will go with you right away and shout out. "Kagekiyo"—and if that is his name Then he will answer, and you can watch. Him face to face, and from the distant past And you should tell him everything about the present. Please come this way.

Hello! in the thatched hut
Is Kagekiyo inside? Is there The lively Kagekiyo?

KAGEKIYO

Worried, Even if I were doing well, I would still be worried.
And even though these people came from home,
Shame for this very self now drives me Without my name to release them—and yet—
And yet it breaks my heart and the sad tears As a thousand streams flow down my sleeves.
I wake up thinking about worldly things
Are nothing, just like visions in a dream.
[63] I am determined in this world now to be As someone who is not, and if they want to call Why reply to this beggar Kagekiyo? Additionally, in this province, I have a name—

CHORUS

That name in Hiuga facing the sun,[36]
In Hiuga, facing the sun is not
They call out a name, but they come back to one. Of the past, thrown away long ago,
Which I helplessly let fall with my dropped bow.
Wild thoughts again will never stir me up. And yet I'm angry.

KAGEKIYO

Kagekiyo

While I’m here, I live Here.

CHORUS

While I'm alive In this place, if I provoke the anger of those Without resources, how powerless would I feel! And like A blind man who had lost his cane.
I'm a disabled man, yet I dared. Unreasonable words to use in anger.
Please forgive me!

KAGEKIYO

My eyes are blind, and yet—

CHORUS

My eyes are blind, but I certainly know. Someone else's idea concealed in a single word.
And if the wind blows on the mountains[64] By the pine trees, I can identify its origin,
Whether it comes from snow or hidden flowers,—
Flowers that can only be seen in dreams that we wake from
What a shame! Again, if in the bay
On the rocky shoreline, waves crash against the beach. I hear it, and I know the evening tide well. Is rising. Yes, to the great Taira clan
I do belong, and so to please them I’d talk about those old days.

KAGEKIYO

Hey, I want to say something to you,
It has bothered me that I just now Used such angry words. For what I said
Please forgive me.

VILLAGER

Well, that is nothing. Just forget about it. And hasn't anyone arrived,
Can I ask questions here before I arrived?

KAGEKIYO

Kagekiyo

No, no. Apart from your calling, there hasn't been anyone.

VILLAGER

Hey! That’s a lie you’re telling. Definitely. Did Kagekiyo's noble daughter arrive? Why are you hiding? It's because
I find her story really sad.
That I came here with her.

[To Hitomaru]

So now, right away[65] Meet with your dad, see him in person.

[Kagekiyo keeps silence]

Kagekiyo stays silent

HITOMARU

Please, it's me, I've come to you. Cruel! The rain, the wind, the dew, and the frost
I didn't care along that distant road,
On my way to you! And all of this, unfortunately,
Becomes insignificant! Does a Father's love
Rely on the child's nature?[37]
Ah, cold-hearted!

KAGEKIYO

Until now, I hoped to hide,
But now that I've been discovered, I feel ashamed.
There's no place to hide my fleeting__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ self.

[To Hitomaru]

If you should announce in your blooming state That we are child and parent, then your name You would announce,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ and when I think about this
I have decided we need to break up. Please don’t feel Your father is harsh, and this is just pure heartlessness!

CHORUS

It's really sad! In the past
I welcomed even strangers when they showed up,
And was unhappy if they happened to ignore me. And now its reward! How unfortunate it is!
It's hard to believe that I once hoped my own child
You shouldn't have reached out to me. Oh, how unfortunate!
When the Taira clan was in their warships,[66] When the Taira clan was on their warships, There were so many people there that their shoulders brushed against each other. In the crowded area, the knees were crossed.
There was hardly any space to live__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ under the moon—
And Kagekiyo more than anyone else. Was on the essential flagship.
His fellow officers and everyone else Although rich in courage and strategic abilities, He surpassed everything. And just like the ship is directed By the person who steers the ship, so did he. Lead in the army and no difference. It has happened between him and his men. Everyone envied him, but now he is most like
An old unicorn, weak from aging
And even worse than just a useless horse.[41]

VILLAGER

Hey, Kagekiyo, I want to talk to you!
Your daughter's wish is there, and she wants to hear. Of your heroic actions at Yashima
So share the courageous story with her. Let her listen.

KAGEKIYO

Kagekiyo

It's a bit inappropriate, her request!
Yet as she traveled from afar for my sake, I'll share the story, but once it's finished. Please send her home right away.

VILLAGER

That will be done. Your story is finished, I
I'll send her back right away.

[67]

KAGEKIYO

Kagekiyo

Well then. The time It was nearing the end of the third month. In the third year of Ju-ei,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ and our clan
They were on their warships while on land. The Minamoto crowds gathered nearby.
Two armies faced each other on the coast. And each one wanted a competition to determine the winner. Then Noritsune, Lord of Noto, said To all his people—"In our battles from last year
From Muroyama in Harima To Mizushima, Hiyodorigoe And overall, we never had a single victory.
This was due to Yoshitsune’s__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ tactics. “We have to find a way to kill
This Kuro, along with the suggestions we want "Of a good plan," he condescended to say to them. Then Kagekiyo decided in his mind That Hangwan was neither a devil nor a god,
So if I sacrifice my life for his,
I thought it would be easy, so that this
To Noritsune was my final goodbye.
As I landed, the Gen warriors Did rush towards me to ruin my life.

CHORUS

This Kagekiyo watched, This Kagekiyo saw and shouted out "How noisy!" He swung his sword. That flashed brilliantly in the evening sun. The opposing warriors immediately retreated,
And he chased them so they wouldn't get away.

[68]

KAGEKIYO

Kagekiyo

This is unacceptable for everyone—

CHORUS

This is unacceptable for everyone!
It's a shared shame for the Gen clan. And for the Hei clan to see
I shouted this—hoping to stop one man. It's easy, and so under my arm. Carrying my sword—“I am a warrior
Of the esteemed Hei clan, Kagekiyo Some refer to it as the "Boisterous," and so they shout out I chased after them to capture them. Then I caught them. It was on Mihonoya’s helmet, but it fell off. Once again, I caught it, but it slipped away again. So he escaped three times, even though I Determined not to run away, because he,
He was the enemy I had picked. Hey! With all the strength of my arms
I pulled, and as I was pulling, the cape came off, And part of it stayed in my hand,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ but he got away.
When he was a little way away from me, he turned back. And said, "Now you are really strong." "Even though you let me get away." Then Kagekiyo replied, “The strength
"Lies in the neck bone of Mihonoya.”
Smiling, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. [45]

The one who has shared stories of the past—
Days that we can never forget are now sadly faded. And even confused in thought. Oh, what a pity!
The end of all this suffering in life is close, [69] In this world, my time is limited. Return at once,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ and when I'm gone
Please take a moment to say a prayer for me. That in dark places there will be a light
For this blind man, and along treacherous paths
A bridge. That's how I will view your prayers.
“I’ll stay,” he said, and she replied, “I’m leaving,” His ears only caught her one word: "I'm leaving." And so between the parent and the child
This was the legacy finally exchanged—
Between the parent and the child, there was an exchange.

END OF “KAGEKIYO”

[70]

TAMURA
TAMURA'S RESUME

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

Shite: The Spirit of TAMURAMARU, a renowned warrior, in the first part appearing as a youth, and in the second as a warrior.

Shite: The Spirit of TAMURAMARU, a famous warrior, first appears as a young man and later as a fighter.

Waki: A Travelling Priest.

Waki: A Traveling Priest.

Chorus.

SCENE

The temple ground of Kiyomizu in Kioto, in March. The shrine of Tamuramaru is erected in this ground.

The Kiyomizu temple grounds in Kyoto, in March. The Tamuramaru shrine is built on this site.

There are only two actors in this piece, and it is even less dramatic than the preceding. As it does not lend itself so well to complete translation, I shall give the piece merely as a résumé, with a few of the more beautiful lines rendered in extenso. This drama is an admirable example of the use of a delicately toned, flower-like foreground, as a setting for the warlike figure who recites tales of his strenuous life, which is so characteristic of the construction of the Nō.

There are only two actors in this piece, and it's even less dramatic than the previous one. Since it doesn’t lend itself well to a full translation, I'll provide just a résumé, along with a few of the more beautiful lines rendered in extenso. This drama is a great example of using a delicately toned, flower-like foreground as a setting for the warrior figure who shares stories of his challenging life, which is very typical of the structure of the Nō.

The PRIEST enters first, and, as is often the case at the beginning of a Nō, he recites an account of his hurried journey in the spring, past the provincial capitals to the “nine-fold capital of the Emperor” (Kioto). He speaks of the mild sky of the spring with the sun shrouded by soft haze, and announces that he has now arrived at the Temple of Kiyomizu (meaning clear water) with its peaceful waterfalls.

The PRIEST enters first, and, as often happens at the start of a Nō, he shares a story about his rushed trip in the spring, going past the provincial capitals to the “nine-fold capital of the Emperor” (Kyoto). He talks about the gentle spring sky with the sun hidden by a light haze, and he announces that he has now arrived at the Temple of Kiyomizu (which means clear water) with its serene waterfalls.

[71]

The YOUTH (Tamuramaru) now appears with a broom in his hand. He says: “The spring has returned, and the flowers in their prime beauty make natural offerings for the Goddess of the Temple. Though there are many places famous for their blossoms they do not equal these, which are illuminated by the light of Kannon’s [47] mercy, and this divine mercy, bright as the autumn moon, even penetrates the village of the ten evils and shines upon the lake of the five vices. These flowers look like snow in the garden of the gods or white sand on the shore of heaven’s sea, in which the mist and the clouds are all buried. So many of them there are, and all are cherry flowers, some eight-fold, some single-fold, as is the way in the spring of the nine-fold capital. And all the mountains far and near likewise reflect the season of flowers.”

The YOUTH (Tamuramaru) now appears with a broom in hand. He says: “Spring has returned, and the flowers in their prime beauty make natural offerings for the Goddess of the Temple. Even though there are many places known for their blossoms, they can't compare to these, which are illuminated by the light of Kannon’s [47] mercy. This divine mercy, as bright as the autumn moon, even reaches the village of the ten evils and shines upon the lake of the five vices. These flowers look like snow in the garden of the gods or white sand on the shore of heaven’s sea, where mist and clouds are completely enveloped. There are so many of them, all cherry blossoms, some double-layered, some single-layered, as is the way in the spring of the nine-fold capital. And all the mountains, near and far, likewise reflect the season of flowers.”

Beholding the Youth sweeping the petals, the PRIEST asks him if he is the flower keeper. To this the YOUTH replies in the affirmative, saying that he serves the Goddess of the Temple and that as he always sweeps the petals in the season he may be looked on as the flower keeper, or at any rate as one in the service of the Temple.

Seeing the young man sweeping the petals, the PRIEST asks him if he's the flower keeper. The YOUTH answers yes, saying that he serves the Goddess of the Temple and that since he always sweeps the petals during the season, he can be considered the flower keeper, or at least someone in service to the Temple.

The PRIEST then asks him to relate minutely the history of the Temple. Into this narrative the Youth plunges directly, stating that the Temple was built in the second year of Daido [48] and founded by the wish of Tamuramaru of Sakanoue. He continues to relate that there was once a priest called Kenshin who had a[72] great desire to behold the real form of Kannon, and after his prayer he once saw a golden-coloured light on the upper stream of the river Kotsu. He followed it and found an old man, who said that he was Gyoe-Koji and told Kenshin to discover a patron who would found a magnificent temple. But this so-called Gyoe-Koji was really Kannon herself, and Tamuramaru was the patron of whom she spoke. The CHORUS then speaks, for the Youth, of the universal benevolence of Kannon, symbolised by her thousand merciful hands, every one of which is ready to be extended to those in need, in answer to their prayers.

The PRIEST then asks him to share the detailed history of the Temple. The Youth dives right in, stating that the Temple was built in the second year of Daido [48] and established by the wish of Tamuramaru of Sakanoue. He goes on to tell that there was once a priest named Kenshin who had a strong desire to see the true form of Kannon, and after praying, he once saw a golden light on the upper stream of the Kotsu River. He followed it and found an old man who said he was Gyoe-Koji and told Kenshin to find a patron who would create a magnificent temple. But this so-called Gyoe-Koji was actually Kannon herself, and Tamuramaru was the patron she referred to. The CHORUS then speaks for the Youth, about the universal kindness of Kannon, symbolized by her thousand compassionate hands, each one ready to reach out to those in need in response to their prayers.

The PRIEST declares that he has met an interesting person, and asks for further information about the famous places around, questioning the Youth about one to the south, where a mound is to be seen, and then one to the north, whence an evening bell is heard. The YOUTH, after replying that the one is the Seikan Temple and the other the Temple of Washinowo, both famous in poetry, calls the attention of the Priest to the moon rising from behind the Otowa mountain, and observes that as the moon casts its peaceful light upon the cherry blossoms it is a sight truly worth seeing.

The PRIEST says he has met someone interesting and asks for more information about the famous places nearby. He questions the Youth about one to the south, where there’s a mound, and another to the north, from where an evening bell can be heard. The YOUTH responds, saying the south one is the Seikan Temple and the north one is the Temple of Washinowo, both well-known in poetry. He then points out the moon rising behind Otowa Mountain and notes that as the moon shines its gentle light on the cherry blossoms, it’s a sight truly worth seeing.

The PRIEST says—

This is truly a season to be valued,
This fleeting moment in a heartless Time
That moves so quickly during Spring.

The YOUTH and the PRIEST both repeat: “A precious moment indeed!” Then together they recite an old poem: “As precious as a thousand pieces of gold is one moment of a spring evening with flowers of pure perfume and the moon of silver brightness,”[73] the YOUTH adding, “Ay, more precious still is this very moment!”

The YOUTH and the PRIEST both say, “What a precious moment!” Then they recite an old poem together: “One moment of a spring evening, with flowers of pure fragrance and the moon shining bright, is as valuable as a thousand pieces of gold,”[73] the YOUTH adds, “Oh, but this very moment is even more precious!”

The CHORUS chants in further praise of the flowers in the Temple ground—

The CHORUS sings more praises of the flowers in the Temple grounds—

The moon shines brightly between the cherry trees. And petals gently falling in the breeze
Dance in the air like sparkling snowflakes
And make our hearts dance with them, light and happy.

A second chant of the CHORUS enlarges on the beauty of the flowers, the greenness of foliage, the softness of the breeze and the charm of the waterfall of Otowa, and concludes by referring once more to the merciful light of the Goddess of the Temple, which is extended even to inanimate objects, such as trees, and which accounts for the exquisite scenery of the surroundings.

A second chant from the CHORUS elaborates on the beauty of the flowers, the lushness of the greenery, the gentleness of the breeze, and the allure of the Otowa waterfall. It concludes by mentioning again the merciful light of the Goddess of the Temple, which reaches even inanimate things like trees, explaining the stunning scenery all around.

The CHORUS then asks (for the Priest) the name of the Youth, who does not appear to be an ordinary person. To this the YOUTH replies: “A nameless man am I, but if thou wishest to know who I am, observe where I am going.” The CHORUS explains that the Youth then opens the door of the Shrine of Tamuramaru, which is brightly lit by the moon, and disappears within.

The CHORUS then asks (for the Priest) what the Youth's name is, since he doesn’t seem like an ordinary person. The YOUTH responds, “I am a nameless man, but if you want to know who I am, just pay attention to where I’m going.” The CHORUS explains that the Youth then opens the door of the Shrine of Tamuramaru, which is shining brightly in the moonlight, and steps inside.

The second part of the Play opens with the PRIEST saying: “Under the shadow of a cherry tree all through the night I stand, the petals fall and dance in the air, the moon shines brilliant and clear, and in these beautiful surroundings I say the midnight prayer.”

The second part of the Play opens with the PRIEST saying: “Under the shade of a cherry tree all through the night I stand, the petals fall and dance in the air, the moon shines bright and clear, and in this beautiful setting I say the midnight prayer.”

TAMURAMARU then appears in the form of a warrior, saying: “How thankful am I to hear the voice of prayer, the midnight prayer from a passing[74] stranger! ’Tis Kannon’s mercy, her help. Oh, how grateful I am!”

TAMURAMARU then appears as a warrior, saying: “I’m so grateful to hear the voice of prayer, the midnight prayer from a passing[74] stranger! It’s Kannon’s mercy, her assistance. Oh, how thankful I am!”

The PRIEST observes how strange it is that he sees a manly figure in the light of the glittering flowers, and asks who it is.

The PRIEST notices how odd it is that he sees a strong figure illuminated by the sparkling flowers and asks who it is.

To this TAMURAMARU replies that he has now nothing to conceal, and begins to tell the story of his life by stating that in the reign of Emperor Heize [49] he was Tamuramaru of Sakanoue, who was to conquer the Eastern barbarians, the fiends, and that by the help of the Goddess of this Temple he had power to do it. The story is then told by the CHORUS, who recounts that, according to the Emperor’s declaration, the powerful and rebellious fiends in Seishu must be put down and peace must be restored. Tamuramaru collected the army, and when ready to start he came to this Temple and prayed to Kannon that he might gain the victory. “There was a strange but good omen,” breaks in TAMURAMARU, and the CHORUS goes on to recount with what exultation he set out at once to strike at the rebels.

To this, Tamuramaru replies that he has nothing to hide now, and he starts sharing his life story. He mentions that during the reign of Emperor Heize [49], he was known as Tamuramaru of Sakanoue, destined to defeat the Eastern barbarians, the evil ones, and that with the help of the Goddess of this Temple, he had the power to do so. The CHORUS then narrates that, as per the Emperor’s order, the powerful and defiant fiends in Seishu had to be subdued and peace restored. Tamuramaru gathered an army, and when he was ready to depart, he came to this Temple to pray to Kannon for victory. “There was a strange but good omen,” Tamuramaru interjects, and the CHORUS continues by describing the excitement with which he immediately set out to confront the rebels.

Another chant of the CHORUS describes the march of Tamuramaru and his army to the seat of the rebels. They travelled far, going over the mountain pass of Ōsaka and through the forest of Awazu; stopping to adore the Temple of Ishiyama, noted for its mirage, where also Kannon is enshrined; and crossing over the long bridge of Seta, which resounded gallantly as horses trotted over it. At last they reached the province of Isé (or Seishu), and, convinced of their victory, for they were waging a just war, were more encouraged[75] than ever, every one of them desiring to show his bravery and strike the first blow at the rebels. Happily, moreover, with the help of Kannon, the fiends, though they were numerous, were unconscious of their arrival.

Another chant of the CHORUS describes the march of Tamuramaru and his army to the rebel stronghold. They traveled a long way, going over the mountain pass of Ōsaka and through the forest of Awazu; stopping to worship at the Temple of Ishiyama, famous for its mirage, where Kannon is also enshrined; and crossing over the long bridge of Seta, which echoed gallantly as the horses trotted across it. Finally, they reached the province of Isé (or Seishu), and, confident in their victory since they were fighting a just war, they felt more motivated than ever, each one eager to prove his courage and strike the first blow against the rebels. Fortunately, thanks to Kannon, the foes, though many, were unaware of their approach.[75]

With thundering voice, which shook trees and rivers, even the mountains, and which echoed through the heavens and reached to the deepest earth, TAMURAMARU then spoke thus: “You, fiends, hear what I say. In older times there was once a rebel called Chikata, and the heavenly punishment descended upon him and the fiends who served him, and they were at once defeated.”

With a booming voice that shook the trees and rivers, even the mountains, and echoed through the skies to the depths of the earth, TAMURAMARU then said: “You, demons, listen to what I have to say. Long ago, there was a rebel named Chikata, and heavenly punishment came down upon him and the demons who followed him, and they were swiftly defeated.”

The CHORUS then describes how the fiends came on in battle, raising thick clouds and pouring down iron-fire, and by their magic art creating thousands of armed men. They looked like the sea of Isé, or the forest of Ano, so mighty were they and so numerous!

The CHORUS then describes how the demons charged into battle, raising thick clouds and showering iron-fire, and using their magical skills to conjure thousands of armed men. They resembled the sea of Isé or the forest of Ano, so powerful and numerous were they!

TAMURAMARU breaks in: “There behold, how astonishing!” and the CHORUS goes on to explain that over his own army the light of the thousand-handed Kannon appeared, flying in space, with a bow of mercy and arrows of wisdom in each of her thousand hands, so that the arrows poured down like rain and hail over the enemy till all were struck and not one was left alive. Hence it was by Kannon’s power that the victory was gained, and to her should be rendered eternal gratitude.

TAMURAMARU interrupts: “Look at that, how incredible!” and the CHORUS continues to explain that above his own army, the light of the thousand-handed Kannon appeared, soaring in the sky, with a bow of compassion and arrows of wisdom in each of her thousand hands, causing the arrows to rain down over the enemy like rain and hail until everyone was hit and not one was left alive. Therefore, it was through Kannon’s power that the victory was achieved, and eternal gratitude should be given to her.

The play, which was written essentially in praise of the virtues and powers of Kannon, is attributed to Motokiyo, the author of Kagekiyo (see p. 53).

The play, which was fundamentally written to celebrate the virtues and powers of Kannon, is credited to Motokiyo, the author of Kagekiyo (see p. 53).

END OF “TAMURA”

[76]

THE SUMIDA RIVER

Authorship of the Play

The play is attributed to Motomasa, who was a grandchild of the famous Kiyotsugu (see p. 7) and who died in 1459. The exact date of its composition is uncertain, but it was most likely within the first half of the fifteenth century.

The play is credited to Motomasa, who was a grandchild of the renowned Kiyotsugu (see p. 7) and passed away in 1459. The exact date it was written isn't clear, but it was probably during the first half of the fifteenth century.

Outline of the Story

A little child, the only son of his widowed mother (and owing to the laws regarding the continuation of families in Japan that means much more there than it does in Europe), was kidnapped from his home. The play opens a year after this had happened, and we meet the mother hurrying toward the Sumida river, which she crosses in the ferry. She has had a long journey from the City Royal (Kioto) in her search for the child. While she is in the ferry, the ferryman tells the passengers of a festival to be held in the place that evening in memory of a little lad who died on the road just a year ago. The mother questions him, and learns that it is her child for whom the villagers are about to meet in prayer. The ferryman prevails on her to join in the prayers, and for a moment the ghost of the little one appears and speaks with her.

A small child, the only son of his widowed mother (and due to the laws about family continuation in Japan, this holds much more significance there than in Europe), was taken from his home. The play begins a year after this incident, and we see the mother rushing toward the Sumida River, which she crosses by ferry. She has traveled a long way from the City Royal (Kyoto) in her search for her child. While on the ferry, the ferryman shares with the passengers about a festival happening that evening to honor a little boy who died on the road just a year ago. The mother questions him and discovers that it is her child for whom the villagers are gathering to pray. The ferryman encourages her to join in the prayers, and for a moment, the ghost of the little boy appears and speaks with her.

Plate 7.

SUMIDAGAWA

This illustration from a Japanese coloured woodcut is not so good as could be desired, but was the only one available. It shows the Mother on the left, and reveals the simple, open way in which the actor wears the woman’s mask. The little rectangular instrument at her feet is that used for striking the gong of prayer (see p. 92). The small figure to the right is the ghost of the little son who died, and whom she has set out to seek. Notice his entirely unnatural wig of hair. In the square insets above him are representations of the “Birds of the City Royal” (see p. 83) spoken of so much in the text, and the words “I adore the Eternal Buddha” in Chinese ideographs.

This illustration from a Japanese colored woodblock print isn't as good as we might hope, but it's the only one we have. It shows the Mother on the left and highlights the straightforward way the actor wears the woman’s mask. The small rectangular object at her feet is used for striking the prayer gong (see p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__). The tiny figure to the right represents the ghost of her young son who passed away, and whom she is looking for. Notice his completely unnatural wig. In the square insets above him are images of the “Birds of the City Royal” (see p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__) mentioned frequently in the text, along with the phrase “I adore the Eternal Buddha” in Chinese characters.

[77]

Comments on the Play

In this Nō there is much greater expression of tender, human sentiment than is common in the pieces. It contains also several charming descriptions of Nature, sometimes with a deeper meaning beneath them. For example—

In this Nō, there is a much greater expression of tender, human emotion than what’s typical in these pieces. It also includes several beautiful descriptions of nature, sometimes with a deeper meaning behind them. For example—

If you just wait The wind shakes The branches of the pine trees until they talk.

Throughout the piece also there are very many allusions to and plays upon classical verses, particularly in relation to the “Bird of the City Royal” and Narihira’s poems (see p. 83).

Throughout the piece, there are numerous references to and adaptations of classical verses, especially regarding the “Bird of the City Royal” and Narihira’s poems (see p. 83).

The predominating thought in the piece, however, is the Buddhistic conception of the transitoriness of human life, and of the frail nature even of the bond that unites a loving mother and her child.

The main idea in the piece, however, is the Buddhist view of the transience of human life and the fragile nature of the bond between a loving mother and her child.

As fleeting as the shining drops of dew,
Desolate like the Makuzu moor
In autumn, this world is filled with lost joy.

[78]

THE SUMIDA RIVER
A TRANSLATION OF THE JAPANESE NŌ, SUMIDA GAWA

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

The Mother	Shite
The Ferryman	Waki
A Traveller.
Spirit of the Child.
The Chorus.

SCENE

Scene

The banks of the Sumida River in the province of Musashi, toward evening.

The shores of the Sumida River in the Musashi region, around evening.

FERRYMAN [Words]

FERRYMAN [Lyrics]

I am the one who operates the ferry in Musashi province,
Over the Sumida River, recognized by many near and far.
Today, my boat needs to rush with its many loads of people,
Our village hosts a festival of collective prayer.
On this day, both the priest and the layperson, without thinking about their differences, I will remember this important issue and gather everyone together.

TRAVELLER [Song]

TRAVELER [Song]

The purpose of my long journey is the East,
The aim of my lengthy journey is the East,
Far Azuma,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ and just like its distance expand
My days of travel are filled with tired thoughts.

[79]

[Words]

From the capital, I travel,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ the one speaking to you now,
I'm headed to Azuma to visit a friend.

[Song]

[Track]

Behind me are the mountains I've passed. Faint in the distance like the clouds and fog. The mountains I’ve passed stand tall behind me. Faint in the distance like the clouds and fog. Over many mountain paths, my journey has taken me, I have traveled across many provinces. Before me now is the great Sumida,
The famous river flows right at my feet
I now see the waiting ferry,
I now see the ferry waiting.

[Words]

I've rushed, because it's already the ferry of the river,
Look, the boat is leaving; I need to get on it right away. Hey there, boatman! Hold on a sec. I’d like to ride in your boat.

FERRYMAN [Words]

FERRYMAN [Lyrics]

Absolutely, sir! Please get in right away. But first, I’d like to ask you, what’s that loud noise behind you?
What’s going on back there where you've come from? Can I ask what the issue is?

[80]

TRAVELLER [Words]

TRAVELER [Words]

It's a woman coming from the capital and acting __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Like a crazy person in a strange, ecstatic way. I saw her there.

FERRYMAN [Words]

FERRYMAN [Text]

Oh, in that case, let's wait until the crazy thing can catch up to us,
We can hold the boat for a bit; she’ll definitely come this way.

THE MOTHER [Song][52]

THE MOM [Song][52]

Complete darkness can never fully take over. Within a mother’s heart, but out of love She is a wanderer of her sweet child. Ah! I painfully understand for the first time. The harsh reality in these words.
I ask everyone who walks by Along the snowy path [53]
To Azuma to say Where is my little love? No news. Sadly!
I can't find an answer. Should I then ask the wind
That sucks unseen above?

CHORUS

If you just wait The wind shakes The branches of the pine trees until they start to talk.
[81] If you remain still He often will I have brought him the news he is looking for.[54]

THE MOTHER [Song]

THE MOTHER [Track]

As temporary as the shining drops of dew,
Desolate like the moor of Makuzu
In autumn, this is a world of lost joy.

CHORUS

She spends her days and nights filled with sorrow.

THE MOTHER [Song]

THE MOM [Song]

I am a woman who has lived for years
At Kitajirikawa in the city; When I suddenly lost my only child,
Taken from me by a man who kidnapped him.
They told me that beyond Ōsaka's pass__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__,
He traveled far to the East, to Azuma. And ever since I heard it, I've felt my mind Losing its grip on everyday things,
Set only, filled with love, along the path
The child did follow, tracing the marks. I roam here and there because of his precious feet.

CHORUS

The journey is thousands of miles long,
Yet the parent's heart never forgets. The child she loves and is searching for. So do we hear.

[82]

CHORUS

The nature of the bond__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ is temporary,
The bond is temporary in this world, and yet
Parents and children are meant not to coexist. In loving union, even for this short time. But, like the four birds in the old fable,[57]
Cruel separation lies between them. And now, unfortunately, the mother's caring search Of her young child has come to a sad end,
For she has arrived at the Sumida River,[58]
The Sumida River that flows between The regions Shimotsuke and Musashi.

THE MOTHER [Words]

THE MOM [Words]

Please, Boatman, kindly let me hop on your ferry too.

FERRYMAN [Words]

FERRYMAN [Lyrics]

So, who are you? Where are you going? And where did you just come from?

THE MOTHER [Words]

THE MOM [Words]

I travel from the capital to Azuma, looking for someone.

FERRYMAN [Words, in jest]

FERRYMAN [Words, in humor]

Since you are from the city, and you also appear to be crazy,
Entertain us and show us something that’s interesting or funny.
If you don't, I won't let you travel on this boat now.

[83]

THE MOTHER [Words]

THE MOM [Words]

Oh, how annoying! I was expecting on the ferry of Sumida,
Which is so famous, the answer—“Step aboard my boat now,
"For the day is not over yet." But instead of that, you say—

[Song]

[Track]

You dare to say that I'm from the city,
According to the custom, you must not use your boat.[59]
But over the great Sumida, your ferry goes through, Your words hardly suit you well.

FERRYMAN [Words]

FERRYMAN [Text]

It’s true; you are someone from the faraway City Royal,
Your kind upbringing matches its reputation here.

THE MOTHER [Words]

THE MOM [Words]

Ah! That word!__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ I remember it well. It was here that Narihira That the famous Narihira__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ wrote next to this very ferry:

[Song]

[Track]

Royal City Bird—come!
I request a favor from you, if it's genuine,
The name they've given you:
Is she alive—the one I love—
Is she or isn't she?

Please, O Boatman, over there is a white bird that we don't recognize. In the capital. What do you call it here?

[84]

FERRYMAN [Words]

FERRYMAN [Lyrics]

That bird is definitely a seagull, flying in from the vast ocean.

THE MOTHER [Words]

THE MOM [Words]

They can call it gull or plover, whatever they like by the sea,
But standing here by the Sumida with that white bird in front of us Why didn’t you name it properly, like the Bird of City Royal?

FERRYMAN [Song][62]

Yes, truly, I have made a regrettable mistake. This is the place famous for that bird. I truly forgot about it. And even though this is the place where the thought didn't come.

THE MOTHER [Song]

THE MOM [Song]

The seagull of the vast ocean brings to mind
The evening tide's waves.[63]

FERRYMAN [Song]

And the sound of the waves has brought to our minds Narihira's tears from the past.

THE MOTHER [Song]

THE MOM [Song]

“Is she or isn’t she?” he asked the Bird he spotted.

FERRYMAN [Song]

FERRYMAN [Track]

His thoughts were like a lover who had been separated from him.

[85]

THE MOTHER [Song]

THE MOM [Song]

The same idea drives me, because I’m looking for
My dear child. To everyone I address,
Asking if there are any updates Of where my child is hidden from me.

FERRYMAN [Song]

For a lover to yearn

THE MOTHER

THE MOM

For a child to explore

FERRYMAN

BOAT DRIVER

Is the same way

THE MOTHER

MOM

When love speaks.

CHORUS [Song]

CHORUS [Track]

O Bird of the Royal City, come!
I also ask for a favor from you. In Azuma, the child I love. Is he or isn't he? Ah! Even though I ask and ask, it gives no response!
You are so annoying! Bird of the Royal City—
You would be better off being called a country bird!
Yet this same bird comes singing to the shores Of Horie River, where the boats speed by. That river is in Naniwa, and this The Sumida River flows through Azuma. When you think about this, how incredibly far In my solitary journey, I feel I arrive. That being said—Look! Ferryman, please[86] The boat is full, but there's still room for me,
So let me in, Ferryman, I say,
So let me in, and then move aside.

FERRYMAN [Words]

No woman has ever been as tender-hearted and crazy as this one!
Come on board right away, but keep in mind that the ferry moves quickly.
Please be careful to step in gently.
[To the Traveler] I ask you too, sir, to join us.

TRAVELLER [Words]

Can I ask what that is over there by the willow where the people are? Are they gathered in large numbers? Why are they waiting there?

FERRYMAN [Words]

FERRYMAN [Text]

That's a public meeting for a universal prayer.
I’ll share a story with you while we cross, if you’re willing to listen. The unfortunate story related to our festival. It was last year, in March, on the fifteenth day, I think,
Yes! That's right, and today is exactly the same day,
A kidnapper traveled from the capital, and with him There was a boy he had bought, around twelve or thirteen years old,
[87] He was heading northeast, but the child wasn't toughened yet. The long, exhausting journey made him very sick. It was right here by the river that he couldn't go any further,
But he fell down and stayed there. Oh! A heartless man was with him!
And the child in that state lying by the side of the road Was left behind by the merchant who went off to the northeast. Then the people of the area cared for him and treated him with tenderness. (Though I think it was really just the Karma of his past),[64]
They noticed something in his childlike features and his small habits, They watched him closely as if he were important. He continued to get worse and worse, until it seemed like the end was near,
Then they asked him, “Who are you now? And where did you just come from?”
I asked for his father's last name and the province where he was born:
"My home is in the capital, and at Kitajirikawa." He replied, “And my father, who has passed away, was Yoshida.
I, his only child, had been living solely with my loving mother.
But I was kidnapped and taken far away, which is why I got sick.
[88] I often think about the people in the city, Of their hands, feet, and even their shadows,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ often thinking about them affectionately. As I’m dying by the roadside, please, just take a moment to bury me here. "And to mark the spot, please be so kind and plant a willow." He spoke weakly and recited a calm prayer four or five times, Then it ended. It's a sad story, isn't it, that I've told you? As I see it now, in this boat, there are some people from the city,
Even though it may not be your intention, you will join us honorably. What are your thoughts on offering your sorrow along with our prayers for this occasion? What! The shore! With this long story, we've quickly arrived on land. It's not important to you. Now, please get off.

TRAVELLER [Words]

TRAVELER [Words]

Honestly, I’m going to stay here today and say a prayer with you.

FERRYMAN [Words]

Hey! Why isn’t that crazy woman coming here from the boat? Come here right now! I’m begging you to come up! Yet, she is so gentle-hearted!
Having just heard the story, she is really crying.[89] But right now, I really urge you to get out of the boat.

THE MOTHER [Words]

THE MOM [Words]

Please, O Boatman, can you tell me what the date of that story is?

FERRYMAN [Words]

FERRYMAN [Lyrics]

It was last year, in the third month, and on this very day.

THE MOTHER [Words]

THE MOM [Words]

And that child, how old?

FERRYMAN

Ferry operator

12 years.

THE MOTHER

Mom

Ah!—what's his name?

FERRYMAN

Boat driver

Umewakamaru was he.

THE MOTHER

THE MOM

Do you know his father's last name?

FERRYMAN

Boat operator

It was a certain Yoshida.

THE MOTHER

THE MOM

And since then, have the parents never checked in to ask?

[90]

FERRYMAN

BOAT DRIVER

No, no relatives ever came to ask.

THE MOTHER

THE MOM

But of course, the mom!

FERRYMAN

Boat driver

It's hard to believe, but it's true—I say No!

THE MOTHER [Song]

THE MOM [Song]

Unfortunately! No friends or family. It's really true!
His parents didn't even come to see you. It has to be. But oh, how sad! That child
I seek him. I am the one you now call wild.
Oh heavens. Oh mercy. This must be a dream!

FERRYMAN [Words]

Oh, indescribable sadness. Until now, it was outside of me;
It was someone else's problem. Now you say it was your child?
How sad! But why are you upset? He is now beyond saving.
Come this way and I’ll show you where his grave is. It’s close by now.
This is the tomb of the one who has left us. Please offer your heartfelt prayers now.

THE MOTHER [Song]

THE MOM [Song]

Even though I was afraid it might be true, until now Hope inspired me to embark on this long journey. To faraway, unknown Azuma;
But at the end of the sorrowful path I discover Nothing in this world but a sign of where he rests.
[91] Ah! How cruel it is! If his fate is death—
That he should leave his hometown and come To a street corner in unfamiliar Azuma,
And mixed with the soil by the road to rest Under a messy pile of springtime weeds,
It feels like it's right beneath this ground.

CHORUS

Then shown to the mother in earth’s form,
May the cherished one from her world come forth.

The one who could be helpful is taken!
The one who could be useful is gone!
The one whose work is done still stays,
The mother, much like a dry broom tree abandoned,[66]
In whose mind his beloved form appears and disappears, As is often the case in this unpredictable world.
At any moment, sorrow can strike a person, Like a cruel storm that breaks blossoming branches
The sound of this storm has summoned clouds. That fly disturbed and hid the moon. That else had brightened the long night of her life.
Yes, truly how fleeting the world must be.
Show yourself to her in front of us now. Oh no! Yeah, truly how fleeting must the world Show yourself to her before us now. Alas!

FERRYMAN [Words]

FERRYMAN [Lyrics]

Now, no matter how much you grieve, it won't help at all;[92] Join us in praying for his well-being in future worlds.

[Song]

[Track]

The moon is up, and the river breeze Cool breezes blow. It's already late, and the gong Tolls are paid, and we should be on our knees.[67]

THE MOTHER [Song]

THE MOM [Song]

But still the mother in her pain No prayer can express, only tears can fall. On the ground that conceals her beloved happiness.

FERRYMAN [Words]

FERRYMAN [Text]

Yeah! It's sad, even though others have gathered in large numbers,
It is your prayer that his spirit would definitely be glad to hear.

[Song]

[Song]

I now place the gong__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ in the mother's hand.

THE MOTHER [Song]

THE MOM [Song]

It's true, it's for my child's sake, as I've been told,
And now I hold the gong in my own hands.

FERRYMAN [Song]

FERRYMAN [Track]

As grief is held back and voices are raised for prayer.

THE MOTHER

MOM

We pray together on this moonlit night.

FERRYMAN

Ferry operator

With our thoughts together, we face the West__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.

[93]

THE MOTHER AND FERRYMAN

THE MOM AND FERRYMAN

I adore you, Eternal Great Buddha,
Who remains unchanged, for thirty-six times A trillion worlds of Paradise,[70]
Forever in the west you spread. I adore you, Eternal Buddha great.

THE MOTHER

THE MOM

I adore you, Eternal Buddha great.

CHORUS

I adore you, O Eternal Buddha.
I adore you, O Eternal Buddha.
I love you, O Eternal Buddha.

THE MOTHER

MOM

And in my prayer, the Sumida River The breeze adds its loud voice.

CHORUS

I adore you, O Eternal Buddha.
I love you, O Eternal Buddha.
I love you, O Eternal Buddha.

THE MOTHER

THE MOM

If your name is true, Bird of the Royal City,
Add your voice too, for this is the city's child.

CHILD [71] AND CHORUS

KID__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ AND CHORUS

I love you, O Eternal Buddha.
I love you, O Eternal Buddha.
I love you, O Eternal Buddha.

[94]

THE MOTHER [Words]

THE MOM [Words]

Oh, that was my child's voice praying; he was the one who just said the prayer. I'm sure it was his voice, and it felt like it was coming from this mound.

FERRYMAN [Words]

FERRYMAN [Text]

As you mentioned, we heard it too. And we will now stop our praying,
You are his mother, and you graciously choose to pray.

THE MOTHER [Song]

THE MOM [Song]

Even if only his voice comes back,
I wish I could hear that voice again.

CHILD

KID

I love you, O Eternal Buddha.
I love you, O Eternal Buddha.

CHORUS [Song]

CHORUS [Track]

The voice is heard, and also like a shadow. Inside, one can see a small shape.

[The Spirit of the Child appears]

THE MOTHER [Song]

THE MOTHER [Track]

Is that my kid?

CHILD

KID

Ah! Mom! Is that you?

[The Spirit disappears]

The spirit vanishes.

CHORUS [Song]

CHORUS [Track]

The mutual grip of hands was exchanged,
[95] Once again, he disappeared just as he had first arrived,
But in her thoughts, the shape increasingly His reflection repeated itself. Like in a shiny mirror, back and forth. As I looked at the vision, dawn arrived. And the sky turned a faint hue until it was completely empty.
What seemed to be the child is now
A mound covered heavily with tangled weeds,
It has turned into nothing but a swamp,
A sign of something that was once very precious. Ah, how truly unfortunate is our life. Oh, how pitiful our lives are!

END OF “THE SUMIDA RIVER”

ENGLISH BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE NŌ.

There is no English book entirely on the Nō, but the following Works contain chapters on, and translations of, some of them.

There isn't a single English book dedicated solely to the Nō, but the following works include chapters on and translations of some of them.

Aston, W. G. “A History of Japanese Literature.” Heinemann, London, 1899. See pp. 199-213.

Aston, W.G. “A History of Japanese Literature.” Heinemann, London, 1899. See pp. 199-213.

Brinkley, F. “Japan: its History, Arts and Literature,” vol. iii. Jack, London, 1903. See pp. 28-48.

Brinkley, F. “Japan: Its History, Arts, and Literature,” vol. iii. Jack, London, 1903. See pp. 28-48.

Chamberlain, B. H. “The Classical Poetry of the Japanese.” Boston, 1880. See pp. 137-185. Reprinted with additions and deletions as “Japanese Poetry.” London, 1911. See pp. 109-144.

Chamberlain, B.H. “The Classical Poetry of the Japanese.” Boston, 1880. See pp. 137-185. Reprinted with changes as “Japanese Poetry.” London, 1911. See pp. 109-144.

Dickins, F. V. “Primitive and Mediæval Japanese Texts translated into English.” Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1906. See pp. 391-412. Also volume of romanized texts of the same.

Dickins, F.V. “Primitive and Medieval Japanese Texts translated into English.” Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1906. See pp. 391-412. Also available as a volume of romanized texts of the same.

Edwards, O. “Japanese Plays and Playfellows.” London, 1901. See pp. 39-61.

Sansom, G. B. “Translations from Lyrical Drama: ‘Nō.’” Trans. Asiatic Soc. Japan, 1911, vol. xxxviii, part 3, pp. 125-176.

Sansom, G.B. “Translations from Lyrical Drama: ‘Nō.’” Trans. Asiatic Soc. Japan, 1911, vol. xxxviii, part 3, pp. 125-176.

Stopes, M. C. “A Japanese Mediæval Drama.” Trans. Royal Soc. Literature, London, 1909, vol. xxix, part 3, pp. 153-178.

Stopes, M.C. “A Japanese Medieval Drama.” Trans. Royal Soc. Literature, London, 1909, vol. 29, part 3, pp. 153-178.

[104]

FOOTNOTES

[1] The Sumida River formed the subject of a paper read before the Royal Society of Literature. The translators acknowledge with gratitude the kindness of the Council in allowing them to republish the major part of the verse in the form in which it appeared in the Transactions of the Royal Society of Literature in 1909.

[1] The Sumida River was the topic of a paper presented to the Royal Society of Literature. The translators express their gratitude to the Council for permitting them to republish most of the verses in the same format they appeared in the Transactions of the Royal Society of Literature in 1909.

[2] Trans. Roy. Soc. Literature, London, vol. 29, pp. 156-7.

[3] Trans. Asiatic Soc. Japan, vol. 35, pt. 4. 1908.

[4] Primitive and Mediæval Japanese Texts, p. 399.

[4] Primitive and Medieval Japanese Texts, p. 399.

[5] History of Japanese Literature, p. 207.

[6] The land and sea breezes, which blow regularly only in fine weather.

[6] The land and sea breezes, which blow consistently only in nice weather.

[7] Trans. Asiatic Soc. Japan, vol. 38, pt. 3, p. 174.

[8] Page 39—This piece in the current original is called Motome-zuka, which means, the “Sought Tomb.” In older versions it was previously called Otome-zuka, meaning the “Maiden’s Tomb,” by which name the story was also known in the Yamato Monogatari (“Tales of Japan”), written nearly a thousand years ago. Otome and motome sounding so similar in Japanese, and, as the two men came seeking the tomb, the name was changed in the text of the Japanese Nō, but as the older name both has priority and is more euphonious I revert to the older title.

[8] Page 39—This piece in the current version is called Motome-zuka, which means “Sought Tomb.” In earlier versions, it was called Otome-zuka, meaning “Maiden’s Tomb,” the name by which the story was also known in the Yamato Monogatari (“Tales of Japan”), written nearly a thousand years ago. Since Otome and motome sound so similar in Japanese, and the two men came seeking the tomb, the name was changed in the text of the Japanese Nō. However, as the older name has precedence and sounds better, I will go back to the original title.

This piece is one of the eleven most important utais, and the Shite’s part is a particularly difficult one to chant.

This piece is one of the eleven most important utais, and the Shite’s part is especially challenging to chant.

[9] The long lines are translations of the “words” in the play. As these words are not ordinary prose it seems better not to put them into English prose from which they are so remote. (See p. 33.)

[9] The long lines are translations of the “words” in the play. Since these words aren’t typical prose, it feels more suitable to avoid converting them into English prose that’s so different from them. (See p. 33.)

[10] Page 40—The original reads:—Ikuta on Ono no asakazeni nao saekaeru tamoto kana. Here the meaning is very confused, the word for sleeves (tamoto) following in the Japanese mind from kaeru (which means to turn) in saekaeru (it is cold).

[10] Page 40—The original reads:—Ikuta on Ono no asakazeni nao saekaeru tamoto kana. Here the meaning is quite unclear; the word for sleeves (tamoto) is conceptually linked in Japanese to kaeru (which means to turn) in saekaeru (it is cold).

[11] Page 40—This brings a picture to mind of the contrast between city and country life. An old institution among the well-to-do people of the capital is to make a pleasure picnic for the gathering of the young green shoots in very early spring. It was a general custom to eat the “seven greens” on the seventh day of January each year, and the poor people in the country hamlets make it one of their slender sources of revenue, to gather these green shoots early in January, for the city market.

[11] Page 40—This brings to mind the contrast between city and country life. A long-standing tradition among the wealthy in the capital is to have a fun picnic to celebrate the arrival of young green shoots in early spring. It’s a common custom to eat the “seven greens” on January 7th each year, and the poorer folks in the rural villages rely on gathering these green shoots early in January as one of their few sources of income for the city market.

[12] Page 41—Ikuta, the name of the hamlet, has the same sound, though it is written differently, as the Chinese character for numerous.

[12] Page 41—Ikuta, the name of the village, sounds the same, though it's spelled differently, as the Chinese character for many.

[13] Page 42—The Chinese character for the name Ono reads “little field”; then there is the suggestion that there is little in the way of green sprouts yet.

[13] Page 42—The Chinese character for the name Ono means “little field”; this also implies that there aren’t many green sprouts just yet.

[14] Page 42—The word “prize” is left out in the original out of politeness.

[15] The three parts of this song are chanted in different tones.

[15] The three sections of this song are sung in different tones.

[16] Page 43—Quotation from an old poem. The stanza speaks of the attractiveness of village maidens gathering young leaves.

[16] Page 43—Quotation from an old poem. The stanza talks about how charming village girls look as they gather young leaves.

[17] Page 43—Quotation from an old poem. The owner of the field is hoping that the time will soon come for plucking the shoots. He is impatient, and sends the watchman to see if it is not yet time. This idea leads up to “Likewise dost haste” in one of the following lines.

[17] Page 43—Quotation from an old poem. The owner of the field is eager for the day to arrive when he can pick the shoots. He is restless and sends the watchman to check if it’s time yet. This thought connects to “Likewise dost haste” in one of the next lines.

[18] Page 43—A part of another old stanza.

[18] Page 43—Part of another old verse.

[19] Page 44—Still another quotation from an old poem, introduced for the word furu. “To fall” and “old” are both furu in Japanese, and “older leaves” in one of the following lines is furu ha.

[19] Page 44—Here’s another quote from an old poem, included for the word furu. “To fall” and “old” are both furu in Japanese, and “older leaves” in one of the next lines is furu ha.

[20] Page 44—i. e. Purple. As is common in Japanese poetry, the word purple is not actually used, but is called “the related colour.” As a colour the Japanese word Murasaki is purple, and it is also applied to a herb with deep purple-coloured flowers. This plant’s colour is so intensely purple that all the herbs growing near it are supposed to show the same colour. From such an idea purple colour is known in poetry as Yukari no iro (the related colour). In the present lines part of an old stanza is introduced for the sake of recalling the word murasaki, and this in turn leads on to yukari no na in the first line of the Chorus.

[20] Page 44—i. e. Purple. As is typical in Japanese poetry, the word purple isn't used directly; instead, it's referred to as “the related color.” In Japanese, the word Murasaki means purple, and it’s also the name of a plant with deep purple flowers. The color of this plant is so vibrant that it's believed to affect the color of all nearby herbs. This concept is why purple is referred to in poetry as Yukari no iro (the related color). In these lines, part of an old stanza is included to evoke the word murasaki, which leads to yukari no na in the first line of the Chorus.

[21] Page 44—According to an old tale a lover, crossing a pontoon bridge, fell between the boats and was drowned. The Chorus supposes the heroine to be thinking, “Like this man I too died because of love, and the ‘Bridge of Love’ is a name which is related (see note 11) to my own destiny.”

[21] Page 44—According to an old story, a lover crossed a pontoon bridge, fell between the boats, and drowned. The Chorus thinks the heroine is reflecting, “Like this man, I also died for love, and the ‘Bridge of Love’ is a term that is connected (see note 11) to my own fate.”

[22] Page 45—The Shepherd’s Purse is one of the seven herbs. Chōan is in China, and the old name of China was Kara, so that the mention of Chōan brings Kara to mind, which in turn suggests the word karai, hot, used in the next line.

[22] Page 45—The Shepherd’s Purse is one of the seven herbs. Chōan is in China, and the old name of China was Kara, so mentioning Chōan evokes Kara, which in turn brings to mind the word karai, meaning hot, used in the next line.

[23] Page 45—The dawn is sometimes called the “whitening” in Japanese.

[23] Page 45—In Japanese, dawn is sometimes referred to as the "whitening."

[24] Note the change of person, of course she has really been speaking of herself from the beginning.

[24] Notice the shift in perspective; she has actually been talking about herself this whole time.

[25] Page 47—Ikuta means the living field, or field of life, and as she is about to die the name is meaningless to her.

[25] Page 47—Ikuta means the living field, or field of life, and as she is about to die, the name has no significance to her.

[26] Page 47—Depending on an old poem in which the short growth of the summer horns is used to express the idea of brief time. An alternative translation of this line would be, “Short is my night’s sleep, short are a stag’s horns,” but these words do not convey to an English reader anything like the meaning the Japanese carries. In the original the word tsuka means either a “tomb” or a “grasp,” and it acts as a pivot word. In the sense of “tomb” it leads to the weeds growing on her tomb, which is the essential part; and in the sense of “grasp” it suggests shortness, and inasmuch as a stag’s horns are so short in summer as to be within the grasp of a hand, their shortness is suggested, and this in turn suggests a night’s sleep in summer. This train of thought would probably not occur had it not been rendered a classical picture by an old and well-known stanza.

[26] Page 47—Referring to an old poem where the brief growth of a stag's summer horns conveys the idea of short time. A different translation of this line could be, “Short is my night’s sleep, short are a stag’s horns,” but it doesn't really capture the meaning that the Japanese conveys. In the original, the word tsuka means either “tomb” or “grasp,” serving as a key word. In the “tomb” sense, it connects to the weeds growing on her grave, which is the main point; and in the “grasp” sense, it implies brevity. Since a stag's horns are so short in the summer that they can be grasped by a hand, this shortness suggests a summer night’s sleep. This line of thinking likely wouldn’t emerge without it being framed as a classic image by an old and well-known stanza.

[27] Page 48—He is using the words of the Buddhist scriptures. Though in popular belief the hells and torments, as well as the world, exist, yet the higher philosophy of Buddhism holds that all is appearance only, and that the soul that realises this frees itself from the sufferings and restrictions of the grosser existence.

[27] Page 48—He is using the words of the Buddhist scriptures. While most people believe in the existence of hell and suffering, along with the world itself, Buddhism's deeper philosophy teaches that these are just appearances. The soul that understands this can escape from the pain and limitations of physical existence.

[28] Page 52—Popular Buddhistic teaching postulates eight hells, (1) The hell of equality, where all sinners go first. (2) The hell of black rope, where they are tied and led by devil-jailors to (3) the hell of gathering. Then comes (4) the hell of cries, (5) of bitter cries, (6) the hell of heat, (7) of utmost heat, and lastly (8) the hell of infinite depth.

[28] Page 52—Popular Buddhist teachings state that there are eight hells: (1) The hell of equality, where all sinners go first. (2) The hell of black rope, where they are tied and led by devil jailers to (3) the hell of gathering. Next comes (4) the hell of cries, (5) the hell of bitter cries, (6) the hell of heat, (7) the hell of extreme heat, and finally (8) the hell of infinite depth.

[29] Page 53—Kagekiyo’s full name is Aku-Shichibioe Kagekiyo. Aku—literally means “wicked”; but sometimes has a special meaning of “wild” or “boisterous,” as in the present case, where it intimates that the man is rough in manners and strong in arms.

[29] Page 53—Kagekiyo’s full name is Aku-Shichibioe Kagekiyo. Aku—literally means “wicked”; but sometimes carries a special meaning of “wild” or “boisterous,” as in this case, where it suggests that the man is rough in behavior and strong in strength.

[30] I have put this all in one metre, making no difference between the “words” and “song.” (See p. 33.)

[30] I've combined everything into one meter, treating "words" and "song" the same. (See p. 33.)

[31] Page 56—In the original it reads, “Kamegaegayatsu in Kamakura”; but as this will not fit into any possible metre the first word is left out.

[31] Page 56—In the original it reads, “Kamegaegayatsu in Kamakura”; but since this won't fit into any possible meter, the first word is omitted.

[32] Page 56—Taira becomes Hei when compounded with a following character; thus Taira House is Hei-Ke. Similarly “Minamoto” becomes Gen, thus Gen-ji is the Minamoto family.

[32] Page 56—Taira changes to Hei when joined with the next character; therefore, Taira House is Hei-Ke. Likewise, “Minamoto” turns into Gen, so Gen-ji refers to the Minamoto family.

[33] Page 57—Tōtōmi, the name of one of the provinces through which they came, means “distant bay.” Also to or tou with a different ideagraph means “to ask.” Mikana, the name of another province through which they passed, means “three rivers,” which leads to the idea of bridges. But more than that, Mikana is noted for its eight bridges, spanning over the streams which branch off like the legs of a spider, which is kumo in Japanese; and this idea leads on to that of “clouds,” which are pronounced kumo, though written with a different ideagraph. The idea of “clouds” leads on, finally, to that of the “capital,” where only those of high rank “above the clouds” are dwelling.

[33] Page 57—Tōtōmi, the name of one of the provinces they traveled through, means “distant bay.” Additionally, to or tou with a different character means “to ask.” Mikana, the name of another province they went through, means “three rivers,” which suggests the concept of bridges. More importantly, Mikana is famous for its eight bridges that stretch over streams branching out like a spider’s legs, which is kumo in Japanese; this idea connects to “clouds,” pronounced kumo but written with a different character. The concept of “clouds” ultimately leads to the notion of the “capital,” where only those of high status “above the clouds” reside.

[34] Page 59—Kagekiyo takes up Hitomaru’s words, originally used in a simple, physical sense, and applies them to the spiritual world. It is, nevertheless, not supposed to be a dialogue; each is soliloquising.

[34] Page 59—Kagekiyo picks up on Hitomaru’s words, which were originally meant in a straightforward, physical way, and applies them to the spiritual realm. However, it’s not meant to be a conversation; each character is speaking to themselves.

[35] Page 60—And therefore could play no part in his warlike schemes.

[35] Page 60—And so he could not take part in his military plans.

[36] Page 63—The Chinese character for the name of the province means “facing the sun.”

[36] Page 63—The Chinese character for the name of the province means “looking at the sun.”

[37] Page 65—Meaning that if she had been a boy he would have welcomed her; but now he takes no account of her hardships and difficulties in reaching him.

[37] Page 65—This means that if she were a boy, he would have accepted her; but now he doesn't consider her struggles and challenges in getting to him.

[38] The words used give a suggestion of dew-like.

[38] The words used hint at something like dew.

[39] Page 65—Proclaiming herself the child of an exile and beggar, to her social detriment.

[39] Page 65—Claiming to be the child of an exile and a beggar, which hurt her socially.

[40] Page 66—The word sumu, “to live,” also signifies “clear,” which is associated in poetry with the moon, which in its turn leads to the thought of shadow, Kage leading to Kagekiyo.

[40] Page 66—The word sumu, meaning “to live,” also means “clear,” which in poetry is linked to the moon. This, in turn, brings to mind the idea of shadow, with Kage connecting to Kagekiyo.

[41] Page 66—A mythical animal, of which the nearest translation is perhaps the unicorn. There is a proverb which states that though it is the king of beasts, when old it is worse than a useless horse.

[41] Page 66—A mythical creature, most closely translated as a unicorn. There's a saying that even though it's the king of beasts, when it gets old, it's worse than a useless horse.

[42] Page 67—That is in the year 1185.

[42] Page 67—That was in the year 1185.

[43] Page 67—Yoshitsune’s complete name was Kurō Hang wan Yoshitsune. One of these, or all three names may be applied to him. As the three names make an impossible encumbrance for a line I only give him one, even where the Japanese original calls him by his full name.

[43] Page 67—Yoshitsune’s full name was Kurō Hang wan Yoshitsune. You can use any one of these names, or all three. Since using all three names would be too cumbersome for the text, I’ll stick to just one, even when the original Japanese refers to him by his full name.

[44] Page 68—The jointed cape of his opponent’s armour.

[44] Page 68—The articulated helmet of his opponent's armor.

[45] Page 68—The Minamoto clan were victorious, and when in power they banished Kagekiyo as a specially dangerous enemy.

[45] Page 68—The Minamoto clan won, and once they were in control, they exiled Kagekiyo as a particularly dangerous foe.

[46] The Chorus here speaks for Kagekiyo to Hitomaru.

[46] The Chorus here voices Kagekiyo's words to Hitomaru.

[47] Or Kwannon, the Goddess of Mercy, one of the principal deities in the popular religion of Japan to-day.

[47] Or Kwannon, the Goddess of Mercy, one of the main deities in today's popular religion of Japan.

[48] = 807 A.D.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ = 807 AD

[49] The reign of Emperor Heize = 806-809 A.D.

[50] Page 78—Azuma is a name for the east of Japan, really the region surrounding Tokio (literally the eastern capital).

[50] Page 78—Azuma refers to the eastern part of Japan, specifically the area around Tokyo (which literally means eastern capital).

[51] The old capital in the west, Kioto.

[51] The former capital in the west, Kyoto.

[52] Page 80—This is a particularly difficult passage. I had previously rendered the lines more freely than the rest of the translation, in an endeavour to construct a consecutive verse which might keep the attention of an English reader. In its present form the verse is perhaps nearer the original, but no entirely literal translation is possible of a passage so full of the essentially Japanese “pillow” and “pivot” words. At the outset the Mother quotes a few words from an old poem.

[52] Page 80—This part is especially challenging. I had previously translated it more loosely than the rest to create a cohesive verse that would engage an English reader. In its current form, the verse may be closer to the original, but a completely literal translation isn't possible for a section filled with the distinctively Japanese “pillow” and “pivot” words. At the beginning, the Mother quotes a few lines from an old poem.

[53] Page 80—The Japanese word yuki means both “snow” and “going.”

[53] Page 80—The Japanese word yuki means both “snow” and “to go.”

[54] Page 81—Most of these three lines is added for the sake of rounding off the thought in English.

[54] Page 81—Most of these three lines are added to finish the thought in English.

[55] Page 81—This is not the large commercial town of the same name.

[55] Page 81—This is not the big commercial town with the same name.

[56] Page 82—The bond of the relationship between a parent and child. According to the Buddhistic belief, re-incarnation in the same relations of parent and child holds only for this world. (That between lovers is generally supposed to be of longer duration.)

[56] Page 82—The connection between a parent and child. According to Buddhist beliefs, reincarnation in the same parent-child relationship applies only to this world. (The bond between lovers is generally thought to last longer.)

[57] Page 82—Reference to an old Chinese fable of a bird who had four young, and was bitterly distressed when the time came for them to fly away.

[57] Page 82—Reference to an old Chinese fable about a bird with four young, who felt deeply upset when it was time for them to leave the nest.

[58] Page 82—Sumi means the corner, or end of everything.

[58] Page 82—Sumi means the corner or the edge of everything.

[59] Page 83—Local ferries sometimes hindered strangers from the city, but she intimates that the Sumida is a river of too great importance to expect such treatment on it.

[59] Page 83—Local ferries occasionally obstructed newcomers from the city, but she suggests that the Sumida is too significant of a river to expect that kind of treatment on it.

[60] Page 83—“That word” is the word for “repute,” which has a root the same as “if true the name” in the famous poem which she quotes. The line depends on one of the Japanese “pivot words.”

[60] Page 83—“That word” refers to “repute,” which has the same root as “if true the name” in the well-known poem she references. The line relies on one of the Japanese “pivot words.”

[61] Page 83—Narihira is one of the well-known early poets of Japan, he died in 880. Chamberlain, in his Classical Poetry of the Japanese, quotes an opinion of Tsurayuki (who died in 946) on Narihira. He says: “Narihira’s stanzas are so pregnant with meaning that the words suffice not to express it. He is like a closed flower that hath lost its colour, but whose fragrance yet remaineth.” Narihira is noted among the classical poets for his conciseness and frequent obscurity.

[61] Page 83—Narihira is a well-known early poet from Japan, who died in 880. Chamberlain, in his Classical Poetry of the Japanese, shares a view of Tsurayuki (who died in 946) on Narihira. He says: “Narihira’s poems are so full of meaning that the words can’t fully capture it. He’s like a closed flower that has lost its color, but still has its fragrance.” Narihira is recognized among classical poets for his brevity and frequent obscurity.

[62] Page 84—She is vexed with him for not entering into the spirit of the place and realising the quotation she has just given.

[62] Page 84—She is annoyed with him for not engaging with the atmosphere of the place and appreciating the quote she just shared.

[63] Page 84—These lines depend on pivot words, which by playing upon the root words in the Japanese, connect the ideas prettily.

[63] Page 84—These lines rely on key words that creatively connect the ideas through the root words in Japanese.

[64] Page 87—And therefore it appeared to them hopeless to expect him to recover from the illness.

[64] Page 87—And so, they thought it was pointless to hope he would get better from the illness.

[65] Page 88—The shadows of people are much more real in Japan than here. The shadow pictures that are continually thrown on the white paper screens separating the rooms must fill a large place in the memory of one who has lived in Japan; and, too, it is often only the feet of a passing noiseless maiden that one can see through the openwork base of these screens while one lies on the quilts on the matted floors.

[65] Page 88—The shadows of people feel much more present in Japan than they do here. The shadow images constantly cast on the white paper screens that divide the rooms must occupy a significant spot in the memories of anyone who has lived in Japan; and often, it's just the feet of a quiet girl passing by that you can catch a glimpse of through the intricate base of these screens while lying on the quilts on the tatami floors.

[66] Page 91—This arises as a play on the words Hawa, a mother, and hawaki, a broom tree, and also refers to a legend about a broom tree which appeared and disappeared.

[66] Page 91—This comes from a wordplay on Hawa, meaning a mother, and hawaki, meaning a broom tree, and also relates to a legend about a broom tree that showed up and then vanished.

[67] Page 92—Time, therefore, for midnight prayer.

[67] Page 92—So, it's time for midnight prayer.

[68] Page 92—The gong in the Buddhist shrines is struck by the one who prays.

[68] Page 92—The gong in the Buddhist temples is rung by the person who is praying.

[69] Page 92—The West is the direction of the Buddhist heavens.

[69] Page 92—The West points toward the Buddhist heavens.

[70] Page 93—The words are from the Buddhist scriptures, according to which there are thirty-six million million worlds, all presided over by emanations of the same Buddha.

[70] Page 93—The text comes from the Buddhist scriptures, which state that there are thirty-six trillion worlds, all governed by manifestations of the same Buddha.

[71] The voice of the Child’s Spirit is heard accompanied by the Chorus’s chant.

[71] The Child’s Spirit speaks, joined by the Chorus’s chant.

Transcriber's Note

Illustrations have been moved next to the text to which they refer. Their locations may no longer correspond to the List of Illustrations.

Illustrations have been placed next to the text they relate to. Their positions may no longer match the List of Illustrations.

The printed text contained both footnotes and endnotes. These have been combined, and all notes moved to the end of the text. A footnote on p. 39 ("The numbers refer to notes at the end of the volume.") explaining the printed system has been removed.

The printed text had both footnotes and endnotes. These have been merged, and all notes have been relocated to the end of the text. A footnote on p. 39 ("The numbers refer to notes at the end of the volume.") explaining the printed system has been eliminated.

The following apparent errors have been corrected:

The following obvious mistakes have been fixed:

Advertisement page "10s" changed to "10s."
p. 11 (note) "pp. 156-7" changed to "pp. 156-7."
Illustration (plan of stage) "at the ront" changed to "at the front"
p. 15 "kakama" changed to "hakama"
p. 30 "The world is at peace:/Soft blows" changed to "The world is at peace./Soft blow"
p. 30 "very firs/In that they meet." changed to "very firs,/In that they meet"
p. 31 (note) "p. 174" changed to "p. 174."
p. 57 "Tōtomi" changed to "Tōtōmi"
p. 81 "to Asuma" changed to "to Azuma"
p. 103 "Playfellows." changed to "Playfellows.”"
p. 104 "amusing.’" changed to "amusing."

The following possible errors have not been changed:

The following possible errors haven't been altered:

p. iv right
p. 31 contain the breeze
p. 41 spring-time sprout
pp. 55-56 The line "When in their warships were the Taira clan," was repeated
p. 65 face to face
p. 67 Mismatched quotation marks following “In our last
p. 68 to look upon

The following are used inconsistently:

daimios and Daimios
ideagraph and ideograph
Kurō and Kuro
lifelike and life-like
lifelong and life-long
ōtsuzumi and otsuzumi
reincarnation and re-incarnation
woodcut and wood-cut

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Table of Contents

PLAYS OF OLD JAPAN THE ‘NŌ’

PREFACE

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

TO THE READER

Concerning the Place the Nō takes in Japan to-day

Concerning the past History of the Nō

Concerning the Presentation of the Nō

The Theatre

The Chorus

The Music

The Actors

The Costumes

Properties

The Audience

Concerning the Effect of the Nō on the Audience and on me

Concerning the dramatic Construction of the Nō

Concerning the literary Style of the original texts of the Nō

Concerning the Difficulties of Translation

Concerning the Translations of others, as well as those in this Book

In Conclusion

THE MAIDEN’S TOMB

Authorship of the Play

Outline of the Story

Comments on the Play

THE MAIDEN’S TOMB[8]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

KAGEKIYO[29]

Authorship of the Play

Outline of the Story

Comments on the Play

KAGEKIYO[30]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

TAMURA TAMURA'S RESUME

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

THE SUMIDA RIVER

Authorship of the Play

Outline of the Story

Comments on the Play

THE SUMIDA RIVER A TRANSLATION OF THE JAPANESE NŌ, SUMIDA GAWA

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

ENGLISH BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE NŌ.

By the same Author

FOOTNOTES

Transcriber's Note

PLAYS OF OLD JAPAN
THE ‘NŌ’

THE MAIDEN’S TOMB [8]

KAGEKIYO [29]

KAGEKIYO [30]

TAMURA
TAMURA'S RESUME

THE SUMIDA RIVER
A TRANSLATION OF THE JAPANESE NŌ, SUMIDA GAWA