Adzuma : or The Japanese Wife A play in four acts |
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 | Adzuma : or The Japanese Wife |  |
Scene 2.
The Apartment in Koromogawa's house. Koromogawa and Morito are seated together. She holds a letter, the pretended letter from Adzuma which Sakamune has given to Morito. She is weeping, and deeply agitated.Koromogawa.
Who brought thee this letter?
Morito.
It is idle to ask me that. Thou seest it
is her own. Thou hast thyself said, “This is Adzuma's
handwriting.”
Koromo.
That was before I read the shameful
words.
Mor.
I care not. Wataru's wife loves me, as thou
seest. So thou art twice condemned for the wrong
thou didst, denying her for me to Dôsen.
Koromo.
I tell thee she was pledged to Wataru
by the will of the goddess, when Dôsen asked her.
She was given in a dream, but I will have
her back awake. With what false pretences dost thou
still cover thy ingratitude? If Adzuma be not now
yielded to me, when she herself desires it, thou shalt
die, and thy name be defamed.
Koromo.
I am not afraid to die, but I am afraid
to be dishonoured. Adzuma must answer. I think
this letter is a lie, forged by some enemy.
Mor.
Wilt thou say so, looking at it? Are these
not her own characters, both of the poem and the
letter?
Koromo.
Odorokimashita! they are very like. Yet
it could not; it cannot be!
Mor.
But it is!—Why cometh not Adzuma?
Koromo.
I shall wrong her to let her ears listen
to such wickedness. Yet she will come. She will
make thee know thou hast fed upon falseness and
fancies. Oh, my Daughter! if this shame could be!
I say, again, it is! Adzuma shall tell thee
how she loves me. Why comes she not?
Koromo.
Even now I hear her dear voice. Oh,
would I were a man, and not of thy blood, that, at the
first word of her denial, I might strike thee with the
scorn of sword-blade.
Mor.
Vex me not, shrew! I am dangerous.
Koromo.
Aye, to women, Morito, it seems. But
thou shalt answer hereafter to those who can do better
than weep.
Mor.
I shall be ready.
Enter Adzuma, who makes respectful salutations, and then gazes with troubled countenance on the angered faces of Koromogawa and Morito.
Adz.
I feared you were sick, dear Mother! Why
is this gentleman here?
Koromo.
Do you know him?
Oh yes! it was he who brought rescue to my
Lord in the lane.
Koromo.
It is he who now brings shame to us,
and sin, and the sorrow of wicked words and wishes,
and cruel threats to slay and disgrace me, if I yield
thee not up to him, away from Wataru.
Adz.
[starting up to her feet.]
Mother!
Koromo.
I should crave pardon, I know, for speaking
so to thee, but thou must hear me—and him.
Adz.
I cannot understand!
Koromo.
How shouldest thou understand? Nor
know I in what way least to wound thine ears with
the understanding.
Adz.
Away—from Wataru?
Koromo.
Aye!
Morito.
Aye, Adzuma! for I must find my tongue,
though thy beauty, at first entrance, hath struck it
dumb. I love thee, and do long for thee, as never yet
upon the Bridge, and afterwards again at the Temple,
and yet again at the Feast of the Maples, my heart
hath been filled with thee, and my soul sick for thine
embraces. Thou wert designed mine by the will of
the dead, by secret destinies, by thine own hidden
desires; but this evil woman robbed me of thy love,
and gave thee to another. Now, with a sword and a
will nowise to be gainsaid, I am come here to claim
and take thee. If thou sayest “Yea,” as thy pen hath
already sweetly promised, and if thy Mother, being
assured of thy mind, hinder not, have thou no fear!
There is neither danger nor blame that I will not
answer and crush. If I am crossed or denied, I will find
my way to my purpose in wrath and ruin, and blood.
Adz.
My pen hath promised thee? Morito Endo!
I am Wataru's wife!
Mor.
By wrongfulness, as thy Mother knows.
By rightfulness, as love, and honour, and
true faith witness. Oh! what is all this wild wickedness?
Mor.
With twenty times Wataru's fondness for
thee I love thee, Adzuma!
Adz.
'Tis twice twenty times false! And, were it
true, thy disgrace is measureless to tell it, and my
shame speechless to hear it said.
Koromo.
Then it is false, Daughter! to say that
this letter came to Morito from your hand?
Adz.
What letter, Mother?
[She receives the forged scroll, and slowly peruses it, reading from it at the end.]
“I pray you to let Morito understand this little of
my very loving and sorrowful soul”—
And that signed “Adzuma!” Ah! what enemy has
invented against me such impossible sinfulness?
Koromo.
It is not of thy writing, child?
Oh, no! no! no! no! no! Could you deem
so, Mother? Have you, Morito Endo, believed a
Japanese wife would be so vile, so false, so wanton?
Mor.
Wilt thou deny the characters? Is it not
exactly thus thy hand goes?
Adz.
Alas, yes! it is indeed my manner. It is
done with a bitter cunning.
Koromo.
You are assured it is false, nevertheless!
Adz.
Good Mother, yes! I wrong myself and
my Lord to look so closely at the lying scroll. But
see now, this ink is paler than I use, and here is
a letter not of my habit.
Mor.
Oh, Adzuma, Adzuma! will you take back
the promise of your eyes, your words, your written
mind, because Koromogawa frowns and weeps? Here
is your name as none but you yourself can write
the precious letters of it. Here is your seal, which
only you yourself possess. If you deny this letter,
the wind blew into my hands?
Koromo.
What tanzaku?
Mor.
This!
[drawing the poem from his girdle.]
Here is what Adzuma wrote, and hung upon a
maple-branch at the festival. Read it! See if she
did not plainly tell me, “I hate my Lord.”
Koromo.
[after reading the poem.]
Adzuma!
Adz.
Give it me here, Mother. Ah, yes! that
is my writing.
Koromo.
But see'st thou—at the end?
Adz.
I see.
Koromo.
And this is not false, then?
Adz.
No, not this.
Koromo.
And you made the wind your messenger
to tell this knight—and all—that you were weary of
your husband?
Adz.
Mother! Mother! It is the accursed device
that mark which I never set, an evil hand hath broken
the sense of my innocent song, and made the loving,
wifely words I wrote rank and guilty as a harlot's.
Koromo.
But the writing so alike! And two of
them! And this, you do confess, your own hand.
Adz.
Aye! aye!
Koromo.
And I bethink me, now, how you have
lately praised Morito Endo to me; and called him
comely and gallant; and how I was forced twice to
summon you away from him at the feast in the tent.
Adz.
Aye!
Mor.
Oh, it is only the dread of you which forces
her to belie herself and her heart. Adzuma! my
Desire, my Delight, my Destiny! Fear nothing, and
fear none, but give thyself up to thy sweet will and
to me!
Adz.
Wataru! Wataru!
Nay, name not him, lest I lose patience.
Adz.
Wataru! Lord Wataru!
Koromo.
Criest thou to thy husband for anger,
or in shame, Adzuma?
[Adzuma is silent.]
Koromo.
Wilt thou have Wataru see these writings?
[Adzuma is silent.]
Koromo.
Adzuma! Hast thou no better speech
than barely to call these writings false, which fit so
well together, and fall in with thy entertainment in
the tent; and thy talk, of late, about this knight;
and his own persuasion of thy strong desire for
him.
[Adzuma still maintains silence.]
Koromo.
This is sharper than thy disgraced
sword, Morito! This is harder than any dishonour
thou couldst put on me! Here, for the house of
Yasuhira, begins ruin, infamy, death, unless thou
canst better answer, Daughter!
[Adzuma, with bowed head, still preserves silence.]
Thou speakest nought? Then I call thee
“daughter” no more. I call thee strumpet, Yotaka,
plucker of strangers' sleeves. Ah, thou dishonoured
wife;—thou defamed Lady! Let me look no longer
on thy guilty cheeks and downcast eyes. There is
the proper punishment for thy offence writ in the
law against the wicked wives that sin. But I denounce
thee not to that. Live on with thy mippu
here, thy fancy, thy knight who makes war upon
women, and gathers up love-messages from the gutter!
I disown thee, I am done with thee. Adulteress!
Thus! thus! and thus!
[She strikes Adzuma three times and goes out.]
Mor.
Comfort thee! this is but a passing spleen.
Adz.
Hold down thine evil voice! let me be still!
Mor.
Now she is gone wilt thou not turn to me?
Adz.
Aye! I will turn, to bid thee hate thyself.
As I do hate, and scorn—and pity thee.
I am not used to pity.
Adz.
Well, begin!
See thy sick honour as my sad eyes see;
Conceive thy knighthood as my virtue doth,
Loathsome, attainted, foul with lust and pride!
Measure thyself by what thou wert, or no!—
Since that was falsely honest—mete thyself
By such brave stature as my husband's worth;
So learn, how low and petty thou art sunk
That plott'st against his frank nobility.
Mark how, in this hard strait and gathering gloom,
That which thou call'st thy love is vile to me,
And sweet my Mother's anger. Oh, I praise
The hand which struck the guilty Adzuma;
If Adzuma were guilty. Though I see
No way to escape the anguish of these snares,
I pity thee more than myself. Now, go!
Compassionate thine own state, judging so!
Didst thou not write the letter?
Adz.
Why, no! no!
Mor.
Nor yet the trick of the verse?
Adz.
The knave who did
Laughs at his easy dupe's simplicity.
I love Wataru to the last live drop
Of this true body's blood. Were it not so
Should I be mad enough to bid the wind
Puff my shame hither and thither. Go! thou fool!
Mor.
Why wert thou silent, when thy Mother cursed?
Adz.
The plot's too deep; no words could do me good.
Mor.
I do begin to fear myself deceived.
Adz.
But thy fell folly ruins more than thee.
Mor.
I have pushed thee, Lady, to a troublous place.
Adz.
Thou hast not wit enough to know how hard.
Mor.
Aye! and I have not will to have the wit.
So near, so sure; never so deeply drenched
With this strong sea of love, which, from thy form,
Thy face, thy grace, thy wrath, floods and reflows,
And sweeps my soul away—that soul, which drowns,
Clutches at thee as sinking sailors will
At what they hold, and will not let thee go;
Nay, cannot let thee go. Hark, now! I swear
Thou shalt be mine; either by willing love,
When I will compensate with tenderness
These terrors; or because of darker dreads;
Since, if I have thee not, I'll hold thee up
A scorn-mark, and thy dam a temple-thief;
And those that called thee honest, shall go by
Holding the nose: Wataru most of all.
[Adzuma does not reply.]
Mor.
Answerest me not?
[She is still silent.]
I say, answerest me not?
Adz.
[speaking to herself.]
If I should tell
All to Wataru, and he killed this beast,
His whole life long cold doubt would torture him.
Mor.
I cannot hear thee; wilt thou answer not?
Adz.
Yea! Yea! I'll answer. I did meditate.—
There seems no other way.—Truly, it seems
You cannot but be somehow recompensed.—
You have done much for me, have sold your soul
To ruin, ruining me. Well, I must pay
As women pay. Your wild will wills it so.
Who knows? It may be this is destiny.
I yield—I give myself:—it must be thus.
But one condition!—thou shalt slay my Lord.
Mor.
Aye, I will slay him.
Adz.
While I live, and he,
This could not be; so thou must slay my Lord.
Mor.
I'll slay him. Tell me how.
Come thou, to-night;
A little after midnight, to my house.
I shall go back there. When Wataru sups
I'll fill his wine-cups fast, then wash his hair,
And lull him into sleep. His room will be
The easternmost, that gives upon the lane.
I'll set a lamp in it; and, when I hear
Thy foot for certain, I'll extinguish it.
Have thou a care: the serving-men lie thick
In the fore-court. When thou passest in the dark
Safe to his mat, thou shalt know well his head,
Being moist with washing, and the locks tied back
In the noble's way. Cut off the head—and go!
And—afterwards—
Mor.
Ah, afterwards—I see
Sweet bliss together, and no fears to mar.
Adz.
Afterwards, as it shall be. Come to-night!
Mor.
Surely I will.
[Exit Morito.
There was no other way!
I never could have laid these plots quite bare;
He never would have lulled a lingering doubt;
My mother's honour, life, peace, love for me;
My husband's name, his trust in Adzuma;
My own true innocence, go safe that way
And by no other road. If I should tell
All to Wataru, and this wretch should fall
Under his vengeful sword, how would he know
I wrote no wanton word? how could men part
Mine honesty from fear? It must be done!
Aye! I must make him kill me. Killing me
Blindly he sets wrong right. Yet, ah! I ache,
My dearest Lord! chiefly I ache for thee
So lonely when my pillow is not there
O' nights—(perchance he'll always keep it by
For thoughts!) But thou wilt know, dear, wilt thou not?
Yes! this must be; Adzuma dead shall free
Adzuma living from all calumny!
| Adzuma : or The Japanese Wife | |