 | Adzuma : or The Japanese Wife |  |
ACT I.
Scene 1.
—Kyôtô.An outer Guard-Room of the Emperor's Palace. Armed Samurai and Soldiers standing or sitting about.
Hojo.
Saw you young Lord Morito throw Sakamune
in the wrestling-ring to-day?
Adachi.
Aye! a notable shoulder-heave it was!
Sakamune, for all his skill, rolled over the edge of the
platform like a pine-log down the bank of Katsura.
Hojo.
Naruhodo! What a man that is! Every
inch of him soldierly!
He is now in high favour. When came he
first to the Court?
Hojo.
It was just after Morito won back the Emperor's
favourite horse, Tama-jishi, which had been so
boldly stolen by the robber Koroku, whom none of us
could come at.
Doi.
Did he do that?
Hojo.
Yes! he was only a stripling, but he could
swim the sea like a tai; and run so fleetly that a
cord of thirty shaku, tied to his waist, would stream
in a straight line behind him. With Kameju, his retainer,
who is as prudent as Morito is headstrong,
he went to Tosa in Tango, where the outlaw made
his hold.
Doi.
What could they look to do against Koroku?
Hojo.
That which courage does, backed by wit. They
gave themselves out as pilgrims to the thirty-three
shrines, weary and in need: two wandering youths, one
of the presence to please Koroku. So he entertained
them well, and, on a time, questioned them if they
knew the military arts, wanting them for his band.
Doi.
How answered they?
Hojo.
Kameju answered, saying, it was to their
shame that, albeit sons of a Daimio, a peasant had
brought them up, and taught them only to swim, ride,
and wrestle. So the Robber would see them show
their skill. Kameju plunged into the waves, and swam
well, but Morito, taking a knife in his belt, dived from
the rocks and brought up, dead, a large fuka, of a
bow's length. Then they were put to wrestle, in
which Morito, designing that Kameju should win, and
thus be first chosen to ride the great horse, gave his
companion advantage, and was finally thrown; yet not
until they had played before Koroku like young tigers.
So Kameju was to mount the horse first, to show
stallion, which none of the thieves dared bestride.
But hardly was he mounted, and beginning speed,
before Morito, quicker than any deer on Arashiyama,
darts after him, and while all the rogues thought it the
wantonness of the youth, he leaps up behind Kameju,
claps heel to the stallion's flank, and ere the robbers
could so much as get to saddle, they had seen the last
of the Emperor's horse.
Doi.
For this he was taken to favour?
Hojo.
It is so. And ever since he has constantly
bettered his fortunes by deeds of service. Yet there
is a wild spirit under his knightliness which only
Kameju can restrain.
Adachi.
Domo! did we not see to-day, when Sakamune
took him in the “bear's grip,” how young
Morito's teeth clenched; how he breathed; how he
braced; how he set his feet like stone gate-posts, and
would have sent a koku of rice flying?
Hojo.
Nē? But, afterwards he raised Sakamune
full courteously, and wiped the dust out of his mouth
with his own head-cloth.
Adachi.
It was so! it was so! nevertheless Morito's
glance, in that clinch, was like an eagle's look when
it draws the curtain off its eyes.
Doi.
You are honourably right! Meseemed Sir
Sakamune did not show best pleased to be grounded
so rudely before the ladies of the Court.
Hojo.
Ah, you marked that? I, too, thought he
scowled more than a beaten player should, when he rose;
albeit he is a very polished Knight, who lets none see
what is hid in the silk sleeve of his manners. But you,
Adachi! went your speech, just now, deeper than its
words, when you likened Morito's look to an eagle's?
Adachi.
Nay, Sir! I spoke only as I have seen.
'Tis the more strange, because there is told
a tale by the priests and the women—a story of shura
and of hoben
—giving out that in a former existence
our Morito was indeed an eagle.
Adachi.
Naruhodo; honourably make us hear.
Hojo.
In truth, I am but partly versed in the
matter, but here comes one who can tell us all, if he
will speak. Ask Kameju Haruki, the Heimin, if you
would know.
Enter Kameju.
Kameju.
“The day,” fair gentlemen!
Hojo.
To you “the day!”
What news, Kameju?
Kam.
Only soldiers' news;
Morito takes your watch at hour of the Ox.
His name was large this moment on our tongues.
Kam.
They could not wag, sirs! to a nobler one;
Morito Musha Endo, my good Lord,
Can give you talk enough from sun to sun
If what you love to talk upon be deeds
Fitting a warrior, and his Father's son.
Hojo.
We know your mind to him, and his deserts,
And none is minded save to praise him here,
But, when you cast your zori at the gate,
Our speech went on the story of his birth;
An eagle mixed with it, and foregone feuds,
So was it said—and you the one who knows:
An't be not private, will you make it ours?
Kam.
Sirs! what the priests talk at the evening rice
And women in the bath-house, may well come
To all your ears, if soldiers' ears can care
For matter vague and visionary as mist
Driving down Biwa; which the East wind blows
Melting before you name them.
Adachi.
Still, 'tis known
Our past lives build the present, which must mould
The lives to be.
Kam.
Oh, if you hold to that,
I had as lief my honoured Lord drew birth
From eyries, as from any plainer nests.
What? must you have it?
Hojo.
Deign augustly, Sir!
Kam.
Then, since 'tis chatter with us, this they say—
The gossips at the wells—Two reigns ago,
The Emperor Toba ruling, a vast Bird
Haunted Shiki-no-kami's craggy crest,
In Yamato; a monstrous snow-white Bird,
Its spread wings like the mid-sails of a junk,
Its beak a blacksmith's shears, its talons twinned
Hooks of grey bronze. And, when the women laid
A whistle would be heard amidst the pines
As if a typhoon burst, and there would pass
The roar of those wide, terrible, white vans
Casting a quick-gone shadow, and be heard
The scream of the eagle, swooping on the babe
With orbs ablaze, quick silencing the wail—
Save for the mother's ears—of that soft prey
Whose tender limbs the savage talons gripped
And bore aloft; while some ran for their bows,
And some flung foolish stones, and some made speed
To follow, if they might, the Ravisher;
Yet always, to the hollows of his hill
Safe he took flight.
Doi.
They speak in Yamato
Now, of that plague.
Kam.
Well, then, the Emperor heard,
Lord Yasuhira from his list of lords,
Best at the archery; bade him fare forth
And slay the eagle. Now this knight was old;
His wife, Koromogawa, childless still,
And near past nursing-times. So both went up
To Kwannon's temple at the lotus-pool
Praying these two boons—that a child might come
To take the enlarging honours of their name,
And that some happy arrow from his string
Might find the fierce Bird's breast, and save the folk.
Thus, day by day, and night by night, alone—
With Yasuhira gone—his lady prayed
These things unceasingly at Kwannon's shrine
Till answer came—strange answer, were all true!
Adachi.
The Gods do listen, if we ask enough.
I know not; but they say it did befall
That,—one day, in her garden, plucking flowers
To set before the goddess—from the reeds
Koromogawa sees a bright snake creep
Which, with soft rustlings, seeks to come to her.
No loathsome reptile, but a lovely coil
Of gold and green—if one can like a snake—
All living, jewelled silk. Thereon, the maids
Cried out and ran; but Yasuhira's wife
Was one afeard, and stroked the glistering length
Of the cold worm, and let its black forked tongue
Play with her hand; then, put it gently back,
Straightway forgetting.
Doi.
For the life of me
I could not play with serpents.
Kam.
Well, that night,
Lying a-bed, she heard a beat on the screen,
All Knight's wife as she was, she snatched a spear
And slid the shoji back, and look! a form
Oh, passing, peerless, fair; a lovely face
Delicate-featured, as of some young maid
Budding to woman, but the garb a man's,
Dark blue hakama, swinging purple sleeves,
The long, smooth, gleaming hair tied like a man's,
Girdle of 'broidered silk, and from its folds
Two sword-hilts forking. If there dwelt a Dame
Leal to her Lord, 'twas Yasuhira's wife;
Yet, while she eyed him, in herself she said,
“Thou gracious one! if thou be'est man indeed
For thee Komachi's snow-cold blood had thaw'd,
For thee the Princess Chiyo's breast of stone
Had turned to flame! Oh, that thou wert my child!”
Hojo.
Komachi and the other were of those
Whom no man's love could touch?
So 'tis; and when
She put the shoji back, saying: “Who comes
By night-time o'er the fence, is no true man
But kusemono, but a plunderer!”
A gentle voice wailed: “Yasuhira's wife!
Give entrance! think thou not ill thoughts of me
That am thy lover, past all words of love,
And cannot choose but be about thy steps
By day-time, 'mid the flowers; and in the night,
Where thou dost sleep.” “Begone!” the Lady cries:
“My Lord is absent, and I see no man
By day or night! I know thee not, begone!
Or I must strike thee with my husband's spear!”
“Nay! but thou knowest me,” the soft voice says:
“In many shapes I have been nigh to thee,
Because I yearn, out of the shadowy world
And this noon, in the garden, that was I
Who crept, a snake, out from the water-weeds
And would have fondled longer those dear hands
But that, unkind, thou dravest me away
With thy bunched lilies.”
Adachi.
Naruhodo! Sir,
To hear a snake talk so!
Kam.
For very shame
To hear a snake enamoured of her so
Again she lifts the spear: but the form said:
“Strike! if thou wilt, since, in another life,
I shall be woman, and more near to thee
As I am now thy servant and thy friend
Whose life is thine, to live and die for thee.”
On this spake Koromogawa: “If 'tis sooth,
Go where my husband is, and help him kill
The great white eagle haunting Yamato.”
For this is easy, and my destiny
To give myself for thee, whom I shall meet
In other lives, and other—till the end.”
Doi.
Judge you, good Sir! 'twas waking truth, or dream?
Kam.
She would have held it for a dream, but, see!
At day-dawn, on the cover of her bed
Lies a long snake-slough—gold and green and blue
And purple, like the apparel of the Form:
And, afterwards, what did befall, seems more.
Adachi.
Ah! Nama Amida! we long to hear.
Kam.
Her lord comes back with pomp and beating drums,
Four men bearing the vast bird on a pole,
Its white plumes bloodied. And his speech was this
He sate at home again. “I fared, my wife,
To Yamato, and prayed the Goddess long
For those two boons, the first a boy or girl
To bear th'enlarging honours of our house,
And next that I might find and slay the Bird.
Far did I wander over hill and moor
With notch on string, searching the speckless sky,
Threading black pine-woods, rousing spotted deer
From glens unvisited, and startling up
The wild crane from her eggs, the grunting boar
Foul from his lair, and solitary bears
From berry-thickets where no man had come;
Yet nothing nearer won I to my quest:
Till, on the seventh day, ranging at dawn
I spy a sugi-tree, whose swaying top,
A hundred arrow-lengths in air, spread there
The piled sticks of an eagle's eyrie, loud
With clamours of the hungry couplets. See!—
While I get breath and hide—a noise in the blue,
A whir of strong-struck pinions, and there lights,
Shaking the mighty tree, that great white Bird,
Its claws drove deep in the dead velvet meat
Of some poor mother's nursing babe.
How reach
At such a height the tyrant? Pondering this
I mark a bright snake, from beneath the nest,
Glide near and nearer till it flings its coils—
Quick as a sword-blade springing—round the Bird
Chaining his strong wings down, fettering his feet,
Binding him tight with fold on glistening fold;
And—while he screams and tumbles on his tree—
Darting on this and that side of his throat
The venomed daggers of its wide red jaw,
Cries loud for rage, and in its crooked beak
Mashes the Serpent's head; but sick and bound,
Falls to a lower fork, locked with his foe;
And there a shaft can reach him. To my ear
I drew my string, and loosed; the bow sang loud,
The arrow flew, the keen steel pierced and pinned
Serpent and Bird in one close writhing mass
Which bounded, plume and scale, from bough to bough
And rolled down, dead and reddened, at my foot.”
Hojo.
Ma! Kameju! no better tale-teller
Holds the still people on the Yose-mats!
And how fits this with Endo Morito?
Kam.
Since you hold patience yet, that shall be told.
Lord Yasuhira finished, saying thus,
With solemn face: “Once more in Yamato
And slept; but, sleeping, saw One not of our world,
Radiant and great, who spake: ‘Seen lives of men
Intermix close with other lives unseen.
What is done well, obedient to the Law,
Blossoms in bliss, and what is wrongly done
Withers to woe, 'till it be purged. Thy prayers
Were heard! The snake that helped thee must be born
A beauteous daughter to thy wife. The Bird
Hath ended all save one hard penitence
For which once more he meets the Snake, and strives.
He will be Morimitsu's son on earth,
Born of Shiraito. Lest thy waking sense
This vision scorn, a sign is given for faith.’
And, when the morning-cock crowed me awake
With a snake's scale.”
Hojo.
Partly I knew all this before, but never
nearly so well, as to-day. Our thanks, good Kameju!
That's why Koromogawa, then, Adzuma's mother,
would liever have fire take her house, than Morito
Endo and her daughter come together.
Kam.
I have prated too much, already; but, indeed
I deem the fortune of my Lord lies better elsewhere.
These things are as they must be. We talk like
waiting-maids in a tea-house; and 'tis time, I think,
that the guard was shifted.
Scene 2.
A Garden of the Palace, laid out in the Japanese style, with rocks, dwarf-trees, bridges, fish-ponds, stone lanterns, &c., &c.Enter Sakamune.
Sakamune.
I would I could dare more, or did hate less
Three in this world make the world ill to me,
But when I seek how to be quits with them
The fearful half in me pulls at the sleeve
Of the bolder half, and bids me take good heed
Lest when I dig them pits I fall therein.
First of the three, Wataru most I hate—
My friend, a goodly man—because he sleeps
Nightly in that sweet paradise I sought,
Adzuma's arms; her thrice, thrice happy Lord!
And next I hate, as hot as once I loved,
When I did ask her for my wife—and there
Her mother shares my spite, Morito's Aunt.
Last comes Lord Morito—also my friend,
Also most goodly! oh, a soldier forged
Of stuff as fine as any Bizen blade;
Yet doth he cross me, and doth humble me,
Holding the manly mirror of his force
Up to this face of weakness I would hide.
A headstrong lord withal, whom I can bring
With craft to the slaughter, as a butcher leads
His brute ox by the nose-ring. Craft shall do't.
I will devise that each one pushes each
To tears and ruin, while I laugh and watch,
Always “Kind Sakamune! honest friend!”
But were I otherwise, if that in me
Which should be soldier, matched my pitiless mind—
[He draws one of his two swords, and lops off the top of a young pine-tree.]
Wataru's head rolled in the dust—like that!
[He cuts off another pine-tree top.]
Morito's proud brows rolling—like to that!
[He aims to cut off a stalk of flowering Golden Lily, but pauses in the blow.]
And Adzuma's—! But, oh thou Lily-Flower,
That art so fair, so pure, scented so sweet
As if the Angels' breaths came with thee here;
And dropped with purple gouts, and rosy stains,
And dusted with pale gold, all like the moles,
And birth-marks, and the ambered silken glow
Of Adzuma, to show fairness more fair,
The white skin whiter, and to draw the eye
Into the madness of the wondering mind,
The longing hand, the yearning hungry blood!
Thus would I end thee, and my aches for thee
[He plucks and breaks slowly to pieces a Lily-blossom.]
Crushing thy sweet, desired, unwilling heart—
The rose, gold, purple, white—all, to one wrack
Of scattered satin leaf, and silver stem,
And soft green cup! Oh, thus! thus! thus! and thus!
That if I wear them not, none other shall,
And that thy soul exhale, in dew of tears,
Sweet incense to the nostrils of my wrong.
Enter Morito Endo.
Morito.
Why, Sakamune! do you practise sword-play
with the trees and flowers?
Sakamune.
Ah! Morito; truly you have caught
me idling! I was meditating I know not what. 'Tis
a new blade the sword-maker Masamura hath forged
for me, and, having it in hand, I tried a cut or two.
'T would be better training if the Emperor's
saplings and lilies borrowed the bees' stings, and went
armed! Steel upon steel is what teaches a soldier,
and it has been said well:—“The girded sword is the
living soul of the Samurai.” Grant me a respectful
glance at your new katana.
Saka.
It is at your honourable service, like him
that owns it.
Mor.
My ever good friend! In truth, an excellent
piece of sword-craft! the mune solid, yet not over-weighted;
the hira delicate, but firmly-fashioned; and
the nioi marks playful as watered silk, yet misty as
the breath of a musume upon her looking-glass. You
must stain such an edge in our next wars with better
blood than pine-juice!
Saka.
I hope it may be at your side, then, to show
me how swords should be wielded.
Mor.
Domo! What have I ever done? You are
ask your forgiveness about the wrestling-match this
morning. I fear I handled you rudely.
Saka.
It was my fit punishment for challenging a
better man.
Mor.
Nay, thou art my master in the ring, and
it was only by a false step that I flung thee. But
indeed, there is that in my elements, which a friend
must find grace to put by. I desire to live knightly—
but, at times, there comes upon me a passion which
has no conscience. When I felt that thou wouldst
trip me, the evil spirit arose. I am quiet as a pigeon
with a full crop until it rouses, and then 'tis as 'twere
an eagle's wrath, which sets my breast on fire, and
brings the lightning to my eyes. Give me thy forgiveness!
Saka.
It is nothing, it is nothing!
Mor.
No! but 'twas less than friendly that I should
my thigh. I am very humbly sorry, and I have
said it elsewhere, that thou art my teacher in the
wrestling-ring.
Saka.
I say it was nothing.
Mor.
Then you will bear no grudge? That is
gracious! I had a little thing further to declare.
The great new bridge in the City square is to be
opened to-morrow, and I am appointed to keep the
way with five shotai of soldiers, and to receive the
Emperor's procession. Also I was to choose my
second in the commandment, and I have named thy
name, Sakamune!
Saka.
Now thou dost right courteously raise up
a fallen foe. I thank thee, Morito Endo! At what
hour do we gather?
Mor.
At the hour of the Rat.
Saka.
And where post we our fellows?
On the south end of the bridge, where the
open place is. If the Emperor be well pleased with
the doings of the day, there will be another fief for
thee; or, mayhap, a sword of honour wherewith to
chop lilies and fir-tops, until better business comes.
Sayonara!
Saka.
Sayonara! and my best service.
[Exit Morito.
Aye! proud Bird,
That hast, indeed, the old life rank in thee,
So com'st thou to my springe, full-winged! This hap
Brings what I sought. Now shall they blindly meet,
Morito and the lovely, spotless wife
Who dwells as high o'er my desire—and his—
As yonder evening star above this pool
Where the frogs croak. Beyond my love thou art,
Beyond my hate! Ah, far star! thou shalt know
Better shine lowly than have me for foe!
[Exit Sakamune.
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 | |