[SERVANT]: I’ve come to take back Koharu of the Kinokuni House.
CHANTER: Her voice is faintly heard outside. A few moments later, after hardly time enough to exchange three or four words of greeting, she emerges.
[SERVANT]: Koharu is spending the night. Bearers, you may leave now and get some rest. (To proprietress, inside the doorway) Oh, I forgot to tell you, madam. Please keep an eye on Koharu. Now that the ransom to Tahei has been arranged and the money’s been accepted, we’re merely her custodians. Please don’t let her drink too much saké.
CHANTER: She leaves, having scattered at the doorway the seeds that before morning will turn Jihei and Koharu to dust.
At night between two and four, even the teahouse kettle rests; the flame flickering in the low candle stand narrows; and the frost spreads in the cold river-wind of the deepening night. The master’s voice breaks the stillness.
[DENBEI] (to Jihei): It’s still the middle of the night. I’ll send somebody with you. (To the servants) Mr. Jihei is leaving. Wake Koharu. Call her here.
CHANTER: Jihei slides open the side door.
[JIHEI]: No, Denbei, not a word to Koharu. I’ll be trapped here until dawn if she hears I’m leaving. That’s why I’m letting her sleep and slipping off this way. Wake her up after sunrise and send her back then. I’m returning home now and will leave for Kyoto immediately on business. I have so many engagements that I may not be able to return in time for the interim payment.102 Please use the money I gave you earlier this evening to clear my account. I’d like you also to send 150 me of Old Silver to Kawashō for the moon-viewing party last month. Please get a receipt. Give Saietsubō103 from Fuku-shima one piece of silver as a contribution to the Buddhist altar he’s bought, and tell him to use it for a memorial service. Wasn’t there something else? Oh yes—give Isoichi a tip of four silver coins. That’s the lot. Now you can close up and get to bed. Good-bye. I’ll see you when I return from Kyoto.
CHANTER: Hardly has he taken two or three steps than he turns back.
[JIHEI]: I forgot my dirk. Fetch it for me, won’t you?—Yes, Denbei, this is one respect in which it’s easier being a townsman. If I were a samurai and forgot my sword, I’d probably commit suicide on the spot!
[DENBEI]: I completely forgot that I was keeping it for you. Yes, here’s the knife with it.
CHANTER: He gives the dirk to Jihei, who fastens it firmly into his sash.
[JIHEI]: I feel secure as long as I have this. Good night!
CHANTER: He goes off.
[DENBEI]: Please come back to Osaka soon! Thank you for your patronage!
CHANTER: With this hasty farewell Denbei rattles the door bolt shut; then not another sound is heard as the silence deepens. Jihei pretends to leave, only to creep back again with stealthy steps. He clings to the door of the Yamato Teahouse. As he peeps inside, he is startled by shadows moving toward him. He takes cover at the house across the way until the figures pass.
Magoemon the Miller, his heart pulverized with anxiety over his younger brother, comes first, followed by the apprentice Sangorō with Jihei’s son Kantarō on his back. They hurry along until they see the lantern of the Yamato Teahouse. Magoemon pounds on the door.
[MAGOEMON]: Excuse me. Kamiya Jihei’s here, isn’t he? I’d like to see him a moment.
CHANTER: Jihei thinks, “It’s my brother!” but dares not stir from his place of concealment. From inside a man’s sleep-laden voice is heard.
[DENBEI]: Jihei left a while ago, saying he was going up to Kyoto. He’s not here.
CHANTER: Not another sound is heard. Magoemon’s tears fall unchecked.
[MAGOEMON] (to himself): I ought to have met him on the way if he’d been going home. I can’t understand what would take him to Kyoto. Ahhh—I’m shivering all over with worry. I wonder whether he took Koharu with him.
CHANTER: The thought pierces his heart; unable to bear the pain, he pounds again on the door.
[DENBEI]: Who is it, so late at night? We’ve gone to bed.
[MAGOEMON]: I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’d like to ask one more thing. Has Koharu of the Kinokuni House left? I was wondering whether she might have gone with Jihei.
[DENBEI]: What’s that? Koharu’s upstairs, sound asleep.
[MAGOEMON]: That’s a relief, anyway. There’s no fear of a lovers’ suicide. But where is he hiding himself, causing me all this anxiety? He can’t imagine the agony of suspense that the whole family is going through on his account. I’m afraid that bitterness toward his father-in-law may make him forget himself and do something rash. I brought Kantarō along, hoping he would help to dissuade Jihei, but the gesture was in vain. I wonder why I never saw him?
CHANTER: He murmurs to himself, his eyes wet with tears. Jihei’s hiding place is close enough for him to hear every word. He chokes with emotion but can only swallow his tears.
[MAGOEMON]: Sangorō! Where does the fool go night after night? Don’t you know anywhere else?
CHANTER: Sangorō imagines that he himself is the fool referred to.
[SANGORŌ]: I know a couple of places, but I’m too embarrassed to mention them.
[MAGOEMON]: You know them? Where are they? Tell me.
[SANGORŌ]: Please don’t scold me when you’ve heard. Every night I wander down below the warehouses by the market.
[MAGOEMON]: Imbecile! Who’s asking about that? Come on, let’s search the back streets. Don’t let Kantarō catch a chill. The poor kid’s having a hard time of it, thanks to that useless father of his. Still, if the worst the boy experiences is the cold, I won’t complain. I’m afraid that Jihei may cause him much greater pain. The scoundrel!
CHANTER: But beneath the rancor in his heart of hearts is profound pity.
[MAGOEMON]: Let’s look at the back street!
CHANTER: They pass on. As soon as their figures have gone off a distance, Jihei runs from his hiding place. Standing on tiptoes he gazes with yearning after them and cries out in his heart.
[JIHEI]: He cannot leave me to my death, even though I am the worst of sinners! I remain to the last a burden to him! I’m unworthy of such kindness!
CHANTER: He joins his hands and kneels in prayer.
[JIHEI]: If I may make one further request of your mercy, look after my children!
CHANTER: These are his only words; for a while he chokes with tears.
[JIHEI]: At any rate, our decision’s been made. Koharu must be waiting.
Jihei secretly meeting Koharu at the Yamato Teahouse. (Photograph courtesy of Barbara Curtis Adachi Collection, C. V. Starr East Asian Library, Columbia University)
CHANTER: He peers through a crack in the side door of the Yamato Teahouse and glimpses a figure.
[JIHEI]: That’s Koharu, isn’t it? I’ll let her know I’m here.
CHANTER: He clears his throat, their signal. “Ahem, ahem”—the sound blends with the clack of wooden clappers as the watchman comes from the upper street, coughing in the night wind. He hurries on his round of fire warning, “Take care! Beware!” Even this cry has a dismal sound to one in hiding. Jihei, concealing himself like the god of Katsuragi,104 lets the watchman pass. He sees his chance and rushes to the side door, which softly opens from within.
[JIHEI]: Koharu?
[KOHARU]: Were you waiting? Jihei—I want to leave quickly.
CHANTER: She is all impatience, but the more quickly they open the door, the more likely people will be to hear the casters turning. They lift the door; it makes a moaning sound that thunders in their ears and in their hearts. Jihei lends a hand from the outside, but his fingertips tremble with the trembling of his heart. The door opens a quarter of an inch, a half, an inch—an inch ahead are the tortures of hell, but more than hell itself they fear the guardian-demon’s eyes. At last the door opens, and with the joy of New Year’s morning105 Koharu slips out. They catch each other’s hands. Shall they go north or south, west or east? Their pounding hearts urge them on, though they know not to what destination: turning their backs on the
moon reflected in Shijimi River, they hurry eastward as fast as their legs will carry them.
Scene 2: The farewell journey of many bridges.
CHANTER:
The running hand in texts of nō is always Konoe style;
An actor in a woman’s part is sure to wear a purple hat.
Does some teaching of the Buddha as rigidly decree
That men who spend their days in evil haunts must end like this?
Poor creatures, although they would discover today their destiny in the Sutra of Cause and Effect,106 tomorrow the gossip of the world will scatter like blossoms the scandal of Kamiya Jihei’s love suicide, and carved in cherry wood,107 his story to the last detail will be printed in illustrated sheets.
Jihei, led on by the spirit of death—if such there be among the gods—is resigned to this punishment for neglect of his trade. But at times—who could blame him?—his heart is drawn to those he has left behind, and it is hard to keep walking on. Even in the full moon’s light, this fifteenth night of the Tenth Month,108 he cannot see his way ahead—a sign perhaps of the darkness in his heart? The frost now falling will melt by dawn, but even more quickly than this symbol of human frailty, the lovers themselves will melt away. What will become of the fragrance that lingered when he held her tenderly at night in their bedchamber?
This bridge, Tenjin Bridge, he has crossed every day, morning and night, gazing at Shijimi River to the west. Long ago, when Tenjin, then called Michizane,109 was exiled to Tsukushi, his plum tree, following its master, flew in one bound to Dazaifu, and here is Plum-Field Bridge.110 Green Bridge recalls the aged pine that followed later, and Cherry Bridge the tree that withered away in grief over parting. Such are the tales still told, demonstrating the power of a single poem.111
[JIHEI]: Though born the parishioner of so holy and mighty a god, I shall kill you and then myself. If you ask the cause, it was that I lacked even the wisdom that might fill a tiny Shell Bridge.112 Our stay in this world has been short as an autumn day. This evening will be the last of your nineteen, of my twenty-eight years. The time has come to cast away our lives. We promised we’d remain together faithfully until you were an old woman and I an old man, but before we knew each other three full years, we have met this disaster. Look, there is ō e Bridge. We will follow the river from Little Naniwa Bridge to Funairi Bridge. The farther we journey, the closer we approach the road to death.
CHANTER: He laments. She clings to him.
[KOHARU]: Is this already the road to death?
CHANTER: Falling tears obscure from each the other’s face and threaten to immerse even the Horikawa bridges.
[JIHEI]: A few steps north and I could glimpse my house, but I will not turn back. I will bury in my breast all thoughts of my children’s future, all pity for my wife. We cross southward over the river. Why did they call a place with as many buildings as a bridge has piers “Eight Houses”? Hurry, we want to arrive before the downriver boat from Fushimi comes—with what happy couples sleeping aboard!
Next is Tenma Bridge, a frightening name113 for us about to depart this world. Here the two streams Yodo and Yamato join in one great river, as fish with water, and as Koharu and I, dying on one blade, will cross together the River of Three Fords.114 I would like this water for our tomb offering!
[KOHARU]: What have we to grieve about? Although in this world we could not stay together, in the next and through each successive world to come until the end of time we shall be husband and wife. Every summer for my devotions115 I have copied the All Compassionate and All Merciful Chapter of the Lotus Sutra, in the hope that we may be reborn on one lotus.
Sixteen Bridges of Naniwa (Osaka), looking south, from Views of Naniwa (Naniwa no nagame, 1777). Jihei and Koharu crossed twelve of these bridges to get to Amijima. The acclaimed Three Large Bridges of Naniwa—Naniwa Bridge, Tenjin Bridge, and Tenma Bridge—appear from the center to the left. Kyō Bridge (far left), was the eastern entrance to Osaka. Jihei’s shop was near Tenjin Bridge. (Courtesy of Osaka Prefectural Nakanoshima Library)
CHANTER: They cross over Sutra Bridge and reach the opposite shore.116 [KOHARU]: If I can save living creatures at will when once I mount a lotus calyx in Paradise and become a Buddha, I want to protect women of my profession, so that never again will there be love suicides.
CHANTER: This unattainable prayer stems from worldly attachment, but it touchingly reveals her heart. They cross Onari Bridge.117 The waters of Noda Creek are shrouded with morning haze; the mountain tips show faintly white.
[JIHEI]: Listen—the voices of the temple bells begin to boom. How much farther can we go on this way? We are not fated to live any longer—let us end it quickly. Come this way.
Jihei and Koharu pausing in the middle of a bridge and listening to the temple bells. (Photograph courtesy of Barbara Curtis Adachi Collection, C. V. Starr East Asian Library, Columbia University)
CHANTER: Tears are strung with the 108 prayer beads in their hands. They have come now to Amijima, to the Daichō Temple. The overflowing sluice gate of a little stream beside a bamboo thicket will be their place of death.
Scene 3: Amijima.
[JIHEI]: No matter how far we walk, there’ll never be a spot marked “For Suicides.” Let us kill ourselves here.
CHANTER: He takes her hand and sits on the ground.
[KOHARU]: Yes, that’s true. One place is as good as another to die. But I’ve been thinking on the way that if they find our dead bodies together, people will say that Koharu and Jihei committed a lovers’ suicide. Osan will think then that I treated as mere scrap paper the letter I sent promising her, when she asked me not to kill you, that I would not and vowing to break off all relations with you. She will be sure that I lured her precious husband into a lovers’ suicide. She will despise me as a one-night prostitute, a false woman with no sense of decency. I fear her contempt more than the slander of a thousand or ten thousand strangers. I can imagine how she will resent and envy me. That is the greatest obstacle to my salvation. Kill me here, then choose another spot, far away, for yourself.
CHANTER: She leans against him. Jihei joins in her tears of pleading.
[JIHEI]: What foolish worries! Osan has been taken back by my father-in-law. I’ve divorced her. She and I are strangers now. Why should you feel obliged to a divorced woman? You were saying on the way that you and I will be husband and wife through each successive world until the end of time. Who can criticize us, who can be jealous if we die side by side?
[KOHARU]: But who is responsible for your divorce? You’re even less reasonable than I. Do you suppose that our bodies will accompany us to the after-world? We may die in different places, our bodies may be pecked by kites and crows, but what does it matter as long as our souls are twined together? Take me with you to heaven or to hell!
CHANTER: She sinks again in tears.
[JIHEI]: You’re right. Our bodies are made of earth, water, fire, and wind, and when we die they revert to emptiness. But our souls will not decay, no matter how often they’re reborn. And here’s a guarantee that our souls will be married and never part!
CHANTER: He whips out his dirk and slashes off his black locks at the base of the topknot.
[JIHEI]: Look, Koharu. As long as I had this hair, I was Kamiya Jihei, Osan’s husband, but cutting it has made me a monk. I have fled the burning house of the three worlds of delusion; I am a priest, unencumbered by wife, children, or worldly possessions. Now that I no longer have a wife named Osan, you owe her no obligations either.
CHANTER: In tears he flings away the hair.
[KOHARU]: I am happy.
CHANTER: Koharu takes up the dirk and ruthlessly, unhesitatingly, slices through her flowing Shimada coiffure. She casts aside the tresses she has so often washed and combed and stroked. How heartbreaking to see their locks tangled with the weeds and midnight frost of this desolate field!
[JIHEI]: We have escaped the inconstant world, a nun and a priest. Our duties as husband and wife belong to our profane pas
t. It would be best to choose quite separate places for our deaths, a mountain for one, the river for the other. We will pretend that the ground above this sluice gate is a mountain. You will die there. I shall hang myself by this stream. The time of our deaths will be the same, but the method and place will differ. In this way we can honor to the end our duty to Osan. Give me your undersash.
CHANTER: Its fresh violet color and fragrance will be lost in the winds of impermanence; the crinkled silk long enough to wind twice round her body will bind two worlds, this and the next. He firmly fastens one end to the crosspiece of the sluice, then twists the other into a noose for his neck. He will hang for love of his wife like the “pheasant in the hunting grounds.”118 Koharu watches Jihei prepare for his death. Her eyes swim with tears, her mind is distraught.
[KOHARU]: Is that how you’re going to kill yourself?—If we are to die apart, I have only a little while longer by your side. Come near me.
CHANTER: They take each other’s hands.
[KOHARU]: It’s over in a moment with a sword, but I’m sure you’ll suffer. My poor darling!
CHANTER: She cannot stop the silent tears.
[JIHEI]: Can suicide ever be pleasant, whether by hanging or cutting the throat? You mustn’t let worries over trifles disturb the prayers of your last moments. Keep your eyes on the westward-moving moon, and worship it as Amida himself.119 Concentrate your thoughts on the Western Paradise. If you have any regrets about leaving the world, tell me now, then die.
[KOHARU]: I have none at all, none at all. But I’m sure you must be worried about your children.
Early Modern Japanese Literature: An Anthology, 1600–1900 Page 49