 | "Noh", or, Accomplishment : |  |
INTRODUCTION
The life of Ernest Fenollosa was the romance
par excellence of modern scholarship. He went
to Japan as a professor of economics. He
ended as Imperial Commissioner of Arts. He
had unearthed treasure that no Japanese had
heard of. It may be an exaggeration to say
that he had saved Japanese art for Japan, but
it is certain that he had done as much as any
one man could have to set the native art in its
rightful pre-eminence and to stop the apeing
of Europe. He had endeared himself to the
government and laid the basis for a personal
tradition. When he died suddenly in England
the Japanese government sent a warship for
his body, and the priests buried him within
the sacred enclosure at Miidera. These facts
speak for themselves.
His present reputation in Europe rests upon
his "Epochs of Chinese and Japanese Art."
In America he is known also for his service to
divers museums. His work on Japanese and
the scholars. It forms, I think, the basis for
a new donation, for a new understanding of
"the East." For instance, as I look over that
section of his papers which deals with the Japanese
Noh, having read what others have written
in English about these plays, I am in a position
to say definitely that Professor Fenollosa knew
more of the subject than any one who has yet
written in our tongue.
The Noh is unquestionably one of the great
arts of the world, and it is quite possibly one
of the most recondite.
In the eighth century of our era the dilettante
of the Japanese court established the tea
cult and the play of "listening to incense."[1]
In the fourteenth century the priests and
the court and the players all together produced
a drama scarcely less subtle.
For "listening to incense" the company
was divided into two parties, and some arbiter
burnt many kinds and many blended sorts of
perfume, and the game was not merely to know
which was which, but to give to each one of
them a beautiful and allusive name, to recall
by the title some strange event of history or
some passage of romance or legend. It was
to the art of polyphonic rhyme, developed in
feudal Provence four centuries later, and now
almost wholly forgotten.
The art of allusion, or this love of allusion
in art, is at the root of the Noh. These plays,
or eclogues, were made only for the few; for
the nobles; for those trained to catch the
allusion. In the Noh we find an art built upon
the god-dance, or upon some local legend of
spiritual apparition, or, later, on gestes of war
and feats of history; an art of splendid posture,
of dancing and chanting, and of acting that is
not mimetic. It is, of course, impossible to
give much idea of the whole of this art on
paper. One can only trace out the words of
the text and say that they are spoken, or half-sung
and chanted, to a fitting and traditional
accompaniment of movement and colour, and
that they are themselves but half shadows.
Yet, despite the difficulties of presentation, I
find these words very wonderful, and they
become intelligible if, as a friend says, "you
read them all the time as though you were
listening to music."
If one has the habit of reading plays and
imaginning their setting, it will not be difficult
to imagine the Noh stage—different as it is
stages—and to feel how the incomplete speech
is filled out by the music or movement. It is
a symbolic stage, a drama of masks—at least
they have masks for spirits and gods and young
women. It is a theatre of which both Mr.
Yeats and Mr. Craig may approve. It is not,
like our theatre, a place where every fineness
and subtlety must give way; where every
fineness of word or of word-cadence is sacrificed
to the "broad effect"; where the paint must be
put on with a broom. It is a stage where every
subsidiary art is bent precisely upon holding
the faintest shade of a difference; where the
poet may even be silent while the gestures consecrated
by four centuries of usage show meaning.
"We work in pure spirit," said Umewaka
Minoru, through whose efforts the Noh survived
the revolution of 1868, and the fall of
the Tokugawa.
Minoru was acting in the Shogun's garden
when the news of Perry's arrival stopped the
play. Without him the art would have perished.
He restored it through poverty and
struggle, "living in a poor house, in a poor
street, in a kitchen, selling his clothes to buy
masks and costumes from the sales of bankrupt
companies, and using 'kaiyu' for rice."
The following prospectus from a programme
of one of his later performances (March 1900)
will perhaps serve to show the player's attitude
toward the play.
Programme Announcement
Our ancestor was called Umegu Hiogu no Kami
Tomotoki. He was the descendant in the ninth
generation of Tachibana no Moroye Sadaijin, and
lived in Umedzu Yamashiro, hence his family name.
After that he lived in Oshima, in the province of
Tamba, and died in the fourth year of Ninwa
Moroye's descendant, the twenty-second after Tomotoki,
was called Hiogu no Kami Tomosato. He
was a samurai in Tamba, as his fathers before him.
The twenty-eighth descendant was Hiogu no Kami
Kagehisa. His mother dreamed that a Noh mask
was given from heaven; she conceived, and Kagehisa
was born. From his childhood Kagehisa liked
music and dancing, and he was by nature very
excellent in both of these arts. The Emperor
Gotsuchi Mikado heard his name, and in January
in the 13th year of Bunmei he called him to his
palace and made him perform the play Ashikari.
Kagehisa was then sixteen years old. The Emperor
admired him greatly and gave him the decoration
(Monsuki) and a curtain which was purple above
and white below, and he gave him the honorific
ideograph "waka" and thus made him change his
name to Umewaka. By the Emperor's order,
Ushoben Fugiwara no Shunmei sent the news of
Emperor, given at that time, is still in our house.
The curtain was, unfortunately, burned in the great
fire of Yedo on the 4th of March in the third year
of Bunka. Kagehisa died in the second year of
Kioroku and after him the family of Umewaka
became professional actors of Noh. Hironaga, the
thirtieth descendant of Umewaka Taiyu Rokuro,
served Ota Nobunaga.[2] And he was given a territory
of 700 koku in Tamba. And he died in
Nobunaga's battle, Akechi. His son, Taiyu Rokuro
Ujimori, was called to the palace of Tokugawa Iyeyasu
in the fourth year of Keicho, and given a territory
of 100 koku near his home in Tamba. He
died in the third year of Kambun. After that the
family of Umewaka served the Tokugawa shoguns
with Noh for generation after generation down to
the revolution of Meiji (1868). These are the outlines
of the genealogy of my house.
This is the 450th anniversary of Tomosato, and
so to celebrate him and Kagehisa and Ujimori, we
have these performances for three days. We hope
that all will come to see them.
The head of the performance is the forty-fifth of
his line, the Umewaka Rokoro, and is aided by
Umewaka Manzaburo.
(Dated.) In the 33rd year of Meiji, 2nd month.
You see how far this is from the conditions
of the Occidental stage. Pride of descent,
fragments of ceremony and religious ritual, all
serve at first to confuse the modern person,
and to draw his mind from the sheer dramatic
value of Noh.
Some scholars seem to have added another
confusion. They have not understood the
function of the individual plays in the performance,
and have thought them fragmentary, or
have complained of imperfect structure. The
Noh plays are often quite complete in themselves;
certain plays are detachable units,
comprehensible as single performances, and
without annotation or comment. Yet even
these can be used as part of the Ban-gumi, the
full Noh programme. Certain other plays are
only "formed" and intelligible when considered
as part of such a series of plays. Again,
the texts or libretti of certain other plays, really
complete in themselves, seem to us unfinished,
because their final scene depends more upon
the dance than on the words. The following
section of Professor Fenollosa's notes throws
a good deal of light on these questions. It is
Notebook J, Section I., based on the authority
of Mr. Taketi Owada, and runs as follows:
In the time of Tokugawa (a.d. 1602 to 1868),
Noh became the music of the Shogun's court and
actor O-no-yakusha, and the stage O-no-butai, with
honorific additions. The first ceremony of the
year, Utai-zome, was considered very important at
the court. In the palaces of the daimyos, also,
they had their proper ceremonies. This ceremony
of Utai-zome began with the Ashikaga shoguns (in
the fourteenth century). At that time on the fourth
day of the first month, Kanze (the head of one of the
five chartered and hereditary companies of court
actors) sang a play in Omaya, and the Shogun gave
him jifuku ("clothes of the season"), and this
became a custom. In the time of Toyotomi, the
second day of the first month was set apart for the
ceremony. But in the time of Tokugawa, the third
day of the first month was fixed "eternally" as
the day for Utai-zome. On that day, at the hour of
"tori no jō" (about 5 a.m.), the Shogun presented
himself in a large hall in Hon-Maru (where the
imperial palace now is), taking with him the San-ke,
or three relative daimyos, the ministers, and all the
other daimyos and officials, all dressed in the robes
called "noshime-kami-shimo." And the "Tayus"
(or heads) of the Kanze and Komparu schools of
acting come every year, and the Tayus of Hosho
and Kita on alternate years, and the Waki actors,
that is, the actors of second parts, and the actors of
Kiogen or farces, and the hayashikata ("cats," or
musicians) and the singers of the chorus, all bow
down on the verandah of the third hall dressed in
robes called "suo," and in hats called "yeboshi."
And while the cup of the Shogun is poured out
three times, Kanze sings the "Shikai-nami" passage
from the play of Takasago, still bowing. Then the
plays Oi-matsu, Tōbuku, and Takasago are sung
with music, and when they are over the Shogun gives
certain robes, called the "White-aya," with crimson
lining, to the three chief actors, and robes called
"orikami" to the other actors. Then the three
chief actors put on the new robes over their "suos"
and begin at once to dance the Dance of the
Match of Bows and Arrows. And the chant that
accompanies it is as follows:
The chief actor sings—
"Shakuson, Shakuson!" (Buddha, Buddha!)
And the chorus sings this rather unintelligible
passage—
"Taking the bow of Great Love and the arrow
of Wisdom, he awakened Sandoku from sleep.
Aisemmyō-o displayed these two as the symbols of
in and yo.[3]
Monju (another deity) appeared in the
form of Yo-yu and caught the serpent, Kishu-ja,
and made it into a bow. From its eyes he made
him his arrows.[4]
"The Empress Jingō of our country defeated the
rebels with these arrows and brought the peace of
Ciyo-shun to the people. O Hachiman Daibosatsu,
Emperor Ojin, War-god Yumi-ya, enshrined in Iwashimidzu,
O, O, O! This water is water flowing forever."
This "yumi-ya" text cannot be used anywhere
save in this ceremony at the Shogun's
court, and in the "Takigi-No" of the Kasuga
temple at Nara (where a few extra lines are
interpolated).
When the above chant and dance are
finished, the Shogun takes the robe "Kata-ginu"
from his shoulders and throws it to the
samurai in attendance. The samurai hands it to
the minister, who walks with it to the verandah
and presents it to the Taiyu of Kanze very
solemnly. Then all the daimyos present take
off their "kata-ginus" and give them to the
chief actors, and thus ends the ceremony of
Utai-zome. The next day the tayus, or chief
actors, take the robes back to the daimyos and
get money in exchange for them.
There are performances of Noh lasting five
days at the initiations, marriages, and the like,
of the Shoguns; and at the Buddhist memorial
services for dead Shoguns for four days. There
are performances for the reception of imperial
messengers from Kyoto, at which the actors
have to wear various formal costumes. On
one day of the five-day performances the town
people of the eight hundred and eight streets
by the officers of every street. The nanushi,
or street officers, assemble the night before by
the gates of Ote and Kikyo, and each officer
carries aloft a paper lantern bearing the name
of his street. They take sake and refreshments
and wait for the dawn. It looks like a place on
fire, or like a camp before battle.
The Kanze method of acting was made the
official style of the Tokugawa Shoguns, and
the tayus, or chief actors, of Kanze were placed
at the head of all Noh actors. To the Kanze
tayu alone was given the privilege of holding
one subscription performance, or Kanjin-No,
during his lifetime, for the space of ten days.
And for this performance he had the right to
certain dues and levies on the daimyos and on
the streets of the people of Yedo. The daimyos
were not allowed to attend the common theatre,
but they could go to the Kanjin-No. (Note
that the common theatre, the place of mimicry
and direct imitation of life, has always been
looked down upon in Japan. The Noh, the
symbolic and ritual stage, is a place of honour
to actor and audience alike.) The daimyos
and even their wives and daughters could see
Kanjin-No without staying behind the blinds.
Programmes were sold in the streets, and a drum
audience for the wrestling matches.
The privilege of holding one subscription
performance was later granted to the Hosho
company also.
Ban-gumi
In the performance of Utai, or Noh, the
arrangement of pieces for the day is called
"Ban-gumi." "Gumi" means a setting in
order, and "Ban" is derived from the old
term "Ban-no-mai," which was formerly used
when the two kinds of mai, or dancing, the
Korean "u-ho" and the Chinese "sa-ho,"
were performed one after the other.
Now the Ka-den-sho, or secret book of Noh,
decrees that the arrangement of plays shall be
as follows:
A "Shugen" must come first. And Shugen,
or congratulatory pieces, are limited to Noh of the
Gods (that is, to pieces connected with some religious
rite), because this country of the rising sun is the
country of the gods. The gods have guarded the
country from Kami-yo (the age of the gods) down to
the time of the present reign. So in praise of them
and in prayer we perform first this Kami-No.
The Shura, or battle-piece, comes second, for
the gods and emperors pacified this country with
bows and arrows; therefore, to defeat and put out
it is sympathetic magic.)
Kazura, or Onna-mono, "wig-pieces," or pieces for
females, come third. Many think that any Kazura
will do, but it must be a "female Kazura," for after
battle comes peace, or Yu-gen, mysterious calm, and
in time of peace the cases of love come to pass. Moreover,
the battle-pieces are limited to men; so we now
have the female piece in contrast like in and yo (the
different divisions of the metric, before mentioned).
The fourth piece is Oni-No, or the Noh of spirits.
After battle comes peace and glory, but they soon
depart in their turn. The glory and pleasures of
man are not reliable at all. Life is like a dream and
goes with the speed of lightning. It is like a dewdrop
in the morning; it soon falls and is broken.
To suggest these things and to lift up the heart for
Buddha (to produce "Bodai-shin") we have this
sort of play after the Onna-mono, that is, just after
the middle of the programme, when some of the
audience will be a little tired. Just to wake them
out of their sleep we have these plays of spirits
("Oni"). Here are shown the struggles and the
sins of mortals, and the audience, even while they sit
for pleasure, will begin to think about Buddha and
the coming world. It is for this reason that Noh is
called Mu-jin-Kyo, the immeasurable scripture.[5]
Fifth comes a piece which has some bearing
upon the moral duties of man, Jin, Gi, Rei, Chi,
Shin; that is, Compassion, Righteousness, Politeness,
Wisdom, and Faithfulness. This fifth piece
teaches the duties of man here in this world as the
fourth piece represents the results of carelessness
to such duties.
Sixth comes another Shugen, or congratulatory
piece, as conclusion to the whole performance, to
congratulate and call down blessings on the lords
present, the actors themselves, and the place. To
show that though the spring may pass, still there is
a time of its return, this Shugen is put in again just
as at the beginning.
This is what is written in the Ka-den-sho.
Then some one, I think Mr. Owada, comments
as follows:
Though it is quite pedantic in wording, still the
order of the performance is always like this. To
speak in a more popular manner, first comes the
Noh of the Divine Age (Kamiyo); then the battle-piece;
then the play of women; fourth, the pieces
which have a very quiet and deep interest, to touch
the audience to their very hearts; fifth, the pieces
which have stirring or lively scenes; and, sixth,
pieces which praise the lords and the reign.
This is the usual order. When we have five
pieces instead of six, we sing at the end of the performance
the short passage from the play Takasago,
beginning at "Senshuraku wa tami wo nade,"
Autumns." (From the final chorus of Takasago.)
This is called the "adding Shugen." But if in the
fifth piece there are phrases like "Medeta kere"
or "Hisashi kere"—"Oh, how happy!" or "O
everlasting,"—then there is no necessity to sing the
extra passage. In performances in memory of the
dead, Tsuizen-No, they sing short passages from
Toru and Naniwa.
Though five or six pieces are the usual number,
there can be more or even fewer pieces, in which
case one must use the general principles of the above
schedule in designing and arranging the programme.
I think I have quoted enough to make clear
one or two points.
First: There has been in Japan from the
beginning a clear distinction between serious
and popular drama. The merely mimetic
stage has been despised.
Second: The Noh holds up a mirror to
nature in a manner very different from the
Western convention of plot. I mean the Noh
performance of the five or six plays in order
presents a complete service of life. We do not
find, as we find in Hamlet, a certain situation
or problem set out and analysed. The Noh
service presents, or symbolizes, a complete
diagram of life and recurrence.
The individual pieces treat for the most
to that of the Greek plays, in which we find,
for instance, a known Oedipus in a known
predicament.
Third: As the tradition of Noh is unbroken,
we find in the complete performance numerous
elements which have disappeared from our
Western stage; that is, morality plays, religious
mysteries, and even dances—like those of the
mass—which have lost what we might call
their dramatic significance.
Certain texts of Noh will therefore be
interesting only to students of folk-lore or of
comparative religion. The battle-pieces will
present little of interest, because Chansons de
Geste are pretty much the same all the world
over. The moralities are on a par with Western
moralities, for ascetic Buddhism and ascetic
Christianity have about the same set of preachments.
These statements are general and
admit of numerous exceptions, but the lover of
the stage and the lover of drama and of poetry
will find his chief interest in the psychological
pieces, or the Plays of Spirits; the plays that
are, I think, more Shinto than Buddhist.
These plays are full of ghosts, and the ghost
psychology is amazing. The parallels with
Western spiritist doctrines are very curious.
interest, and one might set it aside if it were
not bound up with a dramatic and poetic
interest of the very highest order.
I think I can now give a couple of texts,
without much more preface than saying that
the stage is visible from three sides. It is
reached by a bridge which is divided into three
sections by three real pine trees which are small
and in pots. There is one scene painted on
the background. It is a pine tree, the symbol
of the unchanging. It is painted right on the
back of the stage, and, as this cannot be shifted,
it remains the same for all plays.
A play very often represents some one going
a journey. The character walks along the
bridge or about the stage, announces where he
is and where he is going, and often explains
the meaning of his symbolic gestures, or tells
what the dance means, or why one is dancing.
Thus, in Sotoba Komachi, a play by Kiyotsugu,
two priests are going from Koyosan to
Kioto, and in Settsu they meet with Ono no
Komachi; that is to say, they meet with what
appears to be an old woman sitting on a roadside
shrine—though she is really the wraith of
Ono, long dead.
These pieces are the most interesting because of their profound
and subtle psychology and because of situations entirely
foreign to our Western drama, if not to our folk-lore and legend.
—E. P.
| "Noh", or, Accomplishment : | |