Adzuma : or The Japanese Wife A play in four acts |
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 | Adzuma : or The Japanese Wife |  |
Scene 3.
An apartment in the house of Wataru Watanabe. His wife, the Lady Adzuma, and her mother Koromogawa, are discovered, sitting upon the mats, and conversing. A samisen (Japanese guitar) lies near at hand.Koromogawa.
At what time will thy Lord make
the august return.
Adzuma.
I know not surely, Mother, but at his
first freedom. Ah, I am a too happy woman to say
so much, but here only, and only with me, finds he
delight. What have I done to be the luckiest wife in
Palace duty can be laid aside; and my life will begin
anew, as the sea-flower on the rock re-opens when the
tide comes back to it.
Koromo.
The Kami-sama grant thee long years of
such innocent content! And, indeed, he is a good
Lord, and gentle, and gallant. But it is dangerous
to be overfond for us women, who must abide, and
obey, and rest patient under all things.
Adzuma.
Ah! teach me how to love a little, then;
But, in the learning, like a scholar stayed
At the first hard word, I should shut my book,
And blot with tears the new unlovely love,
And change my page; and so begin again
The old, sweet, easy lesson,—needing not
Teacher, nor school—to love him every day
A little more than yesterday, if that
Doth not do wrong to yesterday's great love
For any richer morrows. Is there fear
A wife may overgive herself, to pay
In duty, dearness, pleasure, service, smiles,
Her debt of loving to her wedded Lord
Who loves her, keeps, and guards and cherishes?
Oh! that might haply be where men will mete
So much, and so much—like commodities—
Of trust, and truth, and faith, and tenderness,
And dole each portion forth; “this for thy kiss;
And this to hold thee patient, if I see
Some fairer face outside; and this because
Thou hast my name, art mother to my child,
And makest watch upon the money-bags.”
Even then 'twere fit, I think—as good wives use
Here in Japan—we did not count with him
Koban for koban of heart's golden coin,
And dutifulness, and delight to serve;
Attending 'till his man's heart trimmed th'account
And paid late interest for fidelities.
But for me, Mother, and this most dear Lord
Who lays, with both great generous palms, palmfull,
His honour, and his name, and love, and life,
And hours, and days, and joys, and thoughts, and heart
In these small, feeble, idle hands of mine,
How should I love him with a lesser love
Than all the utmost of my grateful soul,
And my glad body, and my faithful blood?
Part paying, as the bankrupt traders do,
With all my estate the debt too great to reach,
And then a joyous prisoner in the gaol
Of still unsatisfied expectancy?
My gentle Adzuma! I praise your words.
Adzuma.
Mother! do you remember how we met—
What strange beginnings of this joy to be?
Koromo.
Well do I call it to mind, Daughter. You
grew up too fair for my peace; and many a suitor
begged you of me. Sakamune the Samurai, you
know, was one; and the Lord of Idzu; and Kameju's
father, the good Dôsen, also besought me to bestow
you upon Morito; yet I would not.
Adz.
How I do thank you, now, Mother!
Koromo.
Oh, I had deep reasons! There are
destinies which must not mingle; and besides you
took it all out of my hands, Adzuma-chan! falling in
love with Wataru.
Adz.
Yes, yes! he was the one man in the world,
and the Goddess herself gave him to me.
Koromo.
I think, indeed, he was the gift of our Lady
of Mercy. Together we went to the temple of Hase,
husband for you. Oh, how often I pulled the tsuna,
and struck upon the dora! For six days I prayed,
and there seemed no answer coming. On the seventh
we met Wataru, riding with Sakamune.
Adz.
Yes, under the white cherry-trees.
Koromo.
Oh, you remember well enough, Adzumachan.
And how shy you were! But I, who saw
your eyes meet, knew Kwannon Sama had sent me
my son-in-law.
Adz.
Okkâsan! how beautiful and noble he looked!
And that evening again I saw him from the balcony
of our inn.
Koromo.
He saw you too, little fox! but you did
not then guess what words of love he had sent to me
about you. Yet was I perplexed, for fair fruit may
cover evil seeds, and I could not know whether he
was surely Kwannon's grace to us, or only a handsome
came!
Adz.
Aye, Mother, how strange and sweet they
were! Oft-times has Wataru told me since, so that
I am certain we had the same vision. It seemed
to him that, awake and wandering with love-thoughts
of me, he came to our inn, ascended the stair-way,
and, although there were fifty chambers, found mine
at once, and pushed back a little the shoji of it.
Then saw he me musing by the lamp-light, you and
the serving-girls lying asleep. And, being true
Knight, he would not, of course, enter unbidden—
but I rose, and beholding again that dear and noble
countenance, put softly back the door, and drew him
within.
Koromo.
That was too bold, my Child!
Adz.
Ah! Mother, it was in a dream, remember!
Koromo.
Well, and what spake he?
Words so tender that I could only tell them
to you.
Koromo.
Tell me!
Adz.
He said:
“Dear Lady! from the Mansion of the Moon—
Whose face is moonlight, and whose loosened locks
Frame its fair glory in with clouds of night—
Take not again to Heaven those heavenly eyes,
Those brows as delicate as distant hills
By evening misted, those red-tinctured lips
Which are like new-blown cherry-blossoms, moist
With morning-dew. I do not know your name,
Nor why I love you so, nor what deep spell
Brings me, too daring, to your folded feet;
But I know this, that now for life and death,
Thine am I, and thine only, heart and soul,
I, Watanabe!”
Koromo.
What spake you?
I said:
“Warawa ga na Adzuma—Sweet Sir!”—
Thus I made answer in that happy dream,
“My name unfamed is Adzuma, my sire
Was Yasuhira. We were hither come
To pray the Goddess. And, because mine heart
Went to you with my eyes when we did meet,
I wish no other man in all this earth
To be my Lord; and, if you love me so,
I now will love you, yes, for life and death
Chiyo mo kawaranu fufu zo.”
Oh, I could talk so bold only in dreams!
Koromo.
And afterwards?
Adz.
Why, then the morning light shot through
the mado, and I arose, and gave him for a love-gift,
—always in the vision,—my koro, the silver incensepot
I ever used; and he gave to me one of the bodkins
from his short sword.
All this in the dream?
Adz.
Yes! but it was so true a dream that when
day came we had each beheld the very same vision;
and in his hand at his inn lay my silver incense-cup,
while in mine, as thou thyself did'st see, dear Mother,
was the bodkin missing from his sword.
Koromo.
It was so, daughter, and I did not doubt
thereafter that the Daibosatsu himself, the Great Compassionate
One, had given Wataru to you. Sing me
now a little song, Adzuma-chan! I love the samisen.
Adz.
If it be your honourable pleasure. What
shall I sing?
Koromo.
Whatever you will.
Adz.
Then this one, “Haori kakushite,” since my
Lord likes it well.
She plucked his sleeve,
“To-day you cannot go!
The heart that loves you so!”
The window she undid,
And back the shutters slid;
And clinging, cried: “Sweet Lord! perceive
The whole white world is snow!”
[A noise of door-opening is heard without.]
Adz.
Oya! oya! It is his voice, his footstep! I
must go to welcome him home.
Enters Wataru; Adzuma kneels to him on the threshold, saluting.
O kaeri irrashai! Vouchsafe august return! well
art thou welcome, dear Lord!
Wataru.
Arigato! Again I hang in your sweet
eyes! Is all well?
Adz.
Now thou art here, all is well! Be honourably
pleased to sit! Did you think, this long while,
upon Adzuma?
Can a man think without a heart?
Adz.
Nay, surely! there would be no thought or
life if the bosom's beat were lacking.
Wat.
Then, truly, I thought not even once upon
thee, pretty one! for my heart was left here behind
me, in your lap.
Adz.
Ah! let me keep it there still. I will take
such care of it!
Wat.
The august Mother! Ohayo!
[He salutes
Koromogawa, with his forehead on the mats.]
Is
the honourable health good?
Koromo.
I thank you lovingly. It is good.
Wat.
What! have you been at the music?
Koromo.
Domo! You know Adzuma cannot live
without singing and poetry. And I, also, love the
music well. What have you brought with you in
these cloths?
Wat.
'Tis a trifle of biwa-fruit and sweet cakes
And for Adzuma some broidered silk for a girdle, and
a lacquered writing-box for her poetry-making.
Adz.
Ah, then! thou didst indeed think upon me,
false one! But now come to thine ease, and let
me be thy squire, and untie thine armour and thy
sword-belt.
[She unfastens and removes Wataru's swords and military dress, and adjusts upon him the loose Yukata, the “house-gown,” and soft silken belt, Sanjaku-obi.]
Koromo.
Give me leave, Wataru san! I will bid
the maids prepare gozen for thee. Wilt thou have
roasted eels to-night, or shall they boil thee a fat
koi from the fish-pond?
Wat.
As it falls, good Mother! as it falls! 'Tis
meat and drink enough for me to lay aside my iron,
and to sit safe again in my own house.
Where roll and break rough waves of salt affairs,
Ambitions, plans, policies, plots and wars,
And the wild winds blow of our mortal weather,
How good it is to be the ship that shoves
Straight o'er the furrowed sea, with sails braced square
And helm set hard for port; and, so to come—
The holiday breezes whistling in the ropes,
The merry dolphins racing us for sport,
The friendly headlands shutting safely in,
The billows gently falling from their foam
To peace, and equal ripples—into port,
And there cast anchor, where the quiet keel
Rides doubled on her shadow in the sun.
Adz.
Yea, and dear ship! how good to be the port
Which, glad to have her noble vessel home,
Opens its heart to take the brave bulk in!
What evil weathers irked, what troublesome seas
Dashed at thy gallant bows their bitter spray,
Or sought to snatch thine ensign, where it flew
Bright emblem of thy bold nobility.
Here art thou safe, indeed, for 'twixt the brunt
Of any outer tempest brewed for thee,
Or distant gathering of dark clouds that brood
Woe to the seaman, stand my steadfast guards,
My harbouring arms, my love, humble but strong,
My life wrapped round thine honour and thy life
Even like the haven-walls, that must go down
Before the ship within takes injury.
Wat.
Dear placid Port! I moor, and rest in thee.
Enter O Tama.
Tama.
Sir Sakamune stands at the gate, and would
have admission. It is an urgent business.
Why then, give him honourable entrance!
'Tis a well-spoken knight.
Enter Sakamune.
Sakamune.
Salutations to this august House! The
Lady Adzuma! In truth 'tis long since I hung in
those most honourable eyes!
Oh! and the Lady Koromogawa! Makoto ni shibaraku!
Is the high health well?
Wat.
We thank you, well!
Saka.
I make unexcused intrusion. Pray you,
forgive! but, indeed, I am come upon a well-meant
errand.
Wat.
In any case, you are welcome, Sir Samurai!
Condescend to take this cushion.
Saka.
I humbly thank you. And I thank the beautiful
Lady of the house, and the august Mother.
You will touch a cup of saké with us, fair
Sir?
Saka.
I beseech your lofty pardon! I come but to
go. My horse outside draws quick breath from the
speed which brought me hither.
Koromo.
What made you ride so hard?
Saka.
To-morrow, Madam! the Emperor opens, in
all state, our new bridge in Kyôtô. It will be a
gallant sight! I am second in charge of the show,
and have at command fine places, if it would please
the Lady Adzuma, and her Mother, to look upon our
holiday doings.
Adz.
Oh! I long to see them.
Wat.
Why, go then, Adzuma! and thou, too,
Okkâsan! I would myself conduct you, but that I
hold, to-morrow, the palace-gates.
Adz.
We thank you frankly, Sir! Assuredly we
will go.
So! that is well—very well! I shall be the
best paid messenger in all the City if my errand has
brought you pleasure. Now will I take worshipful
permission. Sayonara!
All.
Domo! we greatly thank you. Sayonara!
[Exit Sakamune.
[A noise of something falling is heard within.]
Koromo.
Anôné, Girls!
What have you, heedless, broken?
O Tama entering, agitated.
Tama.
Madam! Nay,
'Twas not our heedlessness! The effigy
Of Buddha from the tokonomâ fell down
And struck a gilded scabbard of my Lord
Out of the sword-rack. All is since made good.
Wat.
[laughing.]
If we had enemies, 'twere ominous!
There be some fearful folk would burn for this
The luck of men lives in the deeds of men.
Adz.
I think that, too. If hearts be true and fast,
Ill fates may hurt us, but not harm, at last.
| Adzuma : or The Japanese Wife | |