by Donald Keene
NARRATOR: His hand she takes and clasps against her breast,
And weeps reproachful and entreating tears
Exactly like a proper wedded wife:
Man though he is, he also weeps aloud.
TOKUBEI: All that you say is true, perfectly true, but what good would it have done to tell you and make you unhappy? The misery I've suffered since we met last is such that even if New Year and every other holiday in the calendar came all at once they couldn't cause more commotion. My mind has been in a turmoil; my finances are in complete chaos. That is why I went to Kyoto and couldn't get in touch with you. By some miracle my life has been prolonged, but in such a way that if they put it on the stage the audiences would weep.
NARRATOR: His words run out, and he can only sigh.
OHATSU: Are you joking? Why have you kept so trivial a thing from me? You must have had some more serious reason for hiding. Why don't you tell me?
NARRATOR: She clings to his knees and bitter tears
Soak her dainty handkerchief.
TOKUBEI: Stop your weeping. It wasn't that I was hiding anything. Even if I had told you, it wouldn't have served any useful purpose. At any rate, my worries have now largely been settled, and I can tell you about them.
My master has always treated me with particular kindness because I'm his nephew, and for my part I've served him with absolute honesty. There's never been a penny's discrepancy in the accounts. It's true that recently when I bought on credit a couple of yards of silk, I used his name, but that's the one and only time I've done so, and even if I have to return the money at once, I can sell the clothes back without a loss. My master, noticing how honest I am, proposed that I marry his wife's niece. He said he would give me a dowry of two kamme of silver, which would permit me to set up in business for myself. But how could I shift my affections to somebody else when I have you? While things were still undecided, my mother—she's really my stepmother—talked things over with my uncle without my knowing about it, and then went back to the country with the money in her clutches. Innocent fool that I am, I hadn't the slightest suspicion of this.
The trouble began last month when they tried to force me to marry. I got angry and said, "Master, I don't understand you. In spite of my unwillingness to get married, you've bribed my old mother into giving her consent. You've gone too far, Master. I can't understand the mistress's attitude either. Just imagine if I were to accept this young lady, whom I've always treated with the utmost deferenee, as my wife, with dowry and all—I should spend my whole life fawning on her. How could I possibly assert myself? It goes against me so much that even were my dead father to rise from his grave and command me to marry, I should still be unwilling."
The master was furious at my long argument and angrily said, "I know your real reasons. You're involved with Ohatsu, or whatever her name is, from the Temma Teahouse, and that's why you are so averse to marrying my wife's niece. Very well—after what's been said, I'm no longer willing to give you the girl, and since there's to be no marriage, return the money. Settle the account by the seventh of April at the latest. Now get out of here and never set foot in Osaka again."
I too felt my manhood rise. "Right you are!" I cried and left at once for my village. But when I got there I found that my so-called mother wouldn't release the money from her grasp, not even if this world turned into the next. I went to Kyoto to borrow from the wholesale sauce and oil merchants in the Fifth Ward, who are friends of mine and would normally be glad to lend me money, but as ill luck would have it, they didn't have any to spare. I went back again to the country, and finally, by getting the whole village to plead on my behalf, I managed to extract the money from my mother. Now I intend to pay back the dowry and settle things once and for all. But if I can't stay here in Osaka, how shall I be able to meet you?
Though my bones be crushed to powder, though my flesh be torn away, and like an empty shell I sink in the slime of Shijimi River,2 if I am parted from you, what shall I do?
NARRATOR: Thus suffocated by his grief he weeps.
Ohatsu seeks to hold the tears that well,
Imparting to him all the strength she has.
OHATSU: HOW you've suffered! And when I think that it's all been on account of me, I'm happy, sad, and most grateful all at once. But you must be more courageous. Even if your uncle has forbidden you to set foot in Osaka, you haven't committed robbery or arson—there must be some way for you to stay here, and I shall discover it. And if a time should come when we can no longer meet, did our promises of love hold only for this world? There have been those before us who have chosen death. At the Mountain of Death, by the River of Three Ways,3 none will hinder and none will be hindered in love.
NARRATOR: Amidst these words of strong encouragement
She falters, choked by tears, and then resumes
OHATSU: The seventh is tomorrow. Return the money quickly, since you must hand it over in any case. In that way you may get into your uncle's good graces again.
TOKUBEI : I agree with you, and I'm impatient to give it back. But on the twenty-eighth of last month Kuheiji the oil merchant, whom you know, implored me to lend him the money. He said he needed it just for one day, and promised to return it on the morning of the third. I decided to lend the money to him since I didn't need it until the seventh, and it was for a friend as close to me as a brother. He didn't get in touch with me on the third or the fourth, and yesterday he was out and I couldn't get to see him. I intended to call on him this morning, but I've spent the whole time making the rounds of my customers in order to wind up all my business by tomorrow. I'll go see him tonight and settle things. He's a decent fellow and he knows the predicament I'm in. I can't imagine that anything will go wrong. Don't worry, Ohatsu!
NARRATOR: "Hatsuse is far away,
So is Naniwa-dera;
The sounds of the temple bells
At many famous places
Are voices of the Eternal Law.
If, on an evening in spring
One visits a mountain shrine
One sees . . ." but who comes now singing?4
TOKUBEI: Oh, Kuheiji! You certainly are a bold rascal! What business have you running off on pleasure excursions when you still haven't got in touch with me? Today we settle accounts.
NARRATOR: He takes Kuheiji's arm and holds him back.
Kuheiji's face betrays his irritation.
KUHEIJI: What are you talking about, Tokubei? These people with me are all residents of the ward, and we've just been to a meeting to raise funds for pilgrimages to lse. We had a bit to drink, but now we're on the way home. What do you mean by grabbing my arm? Don't be rowdy.
TOKUBEI: I'm not being rowdy. All I want is for you to return the two kamme of silver you borrowed from me on the twenty-eighth of last month, which you were supposed to repay on the third.
NARRATOR: Before he can even finish his words
Kuheiji bursts into a roar of laughter.
KUHEIJI: Have you gone crazy, Tokubei? In all the years I've known you I can't remember having borrowed a penny from you. Don't accuse me of anything or you'll regret it.
NARRATOR: He shakes himself loose, then he and his friends
Whip off their bamboo hats.
Tokubei changes color in amazement.
TOKUBEI: None of that, Kuheiji! You came weeping to me, saying that if you couldn't borrow the money to tide you over the end of the month you would go bankrupt, and so, even though the money is indispensable to me in my present predicament, I lent it to you to prove my friendship. I thought that it was one of those occasions we always used to talk about. I told you that I wouldn't even need a receipt, but you insisted on putting your seal to one, just to keep things straight. Don't deny it, Kuheiji!
NARRATOR: Tokubei with bloodshot eyes upbraids him.
KUHEIJI: What's that? I'd like to see just which seal it is.
TOKUBEI : Do you think I'm afraid to show you?
NARRATOR: He draws it forth from his inside poc
ket.
TOKUBEI : If these gendemen are from the ward, I am sure that they will recognize your seal. Will you still dispute it?
NARRATOR: When he unfolds the paper and displays it
Kuheiji claps his hands in recollection.
KUHEIJI: Yes, it's my seal all right. Oh, Tokubei, I never thought that you would do such a thing, not even if you were starving and forced to eat dirt. Know then, that on the twenty-fifth of last month I lost a wallet containing my seal. I put up notices everywhere advertising for it, but without any success, so as of this month—as I've already informed these gentlemen—I changed my seal. Could I possibly have affixed my seal to a paper on the twenty-eighth when I lost it on the twenty-fifth? No—what happened was that you picked it up, wrote a promissory note, and then put my seal to it. And now you are trying to extort money from me. That makes you a worse criminal than a forger. You would do better, Tokubei, to commit out-and-out robbery. You deserve to have your head cut off, but for old times' sake, I'll forgive you. Now see if you can get any money out of this.
NARRATOR: He throws the note in Tokubei's face
And glares at him in feigned innocence.
Tokubei is filled with rage and cries aloud.
TOKUBEI: You've been damned clever. You've put one over on me. Oh, what mortification! What am I to do? Am I supposed to let you get away shamelessly with my money? You've planned everything so cleverly that even if I go to court I'm sure to lose. I'll take it back with my fists!
Look here! You're dealing with Tokubei of the firm of Hirano, a man with a sense of honor. Do you get me? I'm not someone to cheat a friend out of his money. Come on, let's have it out!
NARRATOR: He seizes hold of Kuheiji.
KUHEIJI: You insolent little apprentice! I 'll knock that out of you.
NARRATOR: Kuheiji grabs him by the front of his kimono,
And they exchange some hard and heavy blows.
Ohatsu, barefoot, rushes up to them.
OHATSU: I beg you everybody, help stop them! I think I know the men who are fighting. Where are my chair-bearers? Why doesn't somebody stop them? Oh—it's Tokubei!
NARRATOR: She writhes in anguish but is powerless.
Her customer, country bumpkin that he is,
Bundles her into a palanquin and says,
"There's no point in your getting hurt."
OHATSU: NO, please, just wait a moment! Oh, I'm so unhappy.
NARRATOR: Leaving only her tearful voice behind,
The palanquin is rushed back to her house.
Tokubei is all alone;
Kuheiji has his five companions.
The teahouse owners, anxious for their trade,
Drive them with sticks as far as Lotus Pond.
Who tramples him? Who beats him? One cannot tell.
His hair is disheveled, his sash undone,
Again and again he stumbles and falls.
TOKUBEI: Kuheiji, you swine! Do you think you're going to escape alive?
NARRATOR: He staggers about searching for him,
But Kuheiji has fled and vanished.
Tokubei falls heavily in his tracks,
And weeping bitter tears, he cries aloud.
TOKUBEI (to the bystanders): I no longer have the face to appear before you. I'm ashamed of myself. I didn't say a word about Kuheiji but was the truth. I've always thought of him as a brother, and when he came weeping to me, saying he would never forget my kindness as long as he lived, I gave him the money so that it would help both of us, even though I knew that if I didn't have it tomorrow, the seventh, I would have no choice but death. He made me write the note in my own hand and put his seal to it, but it was a seal which he had already reported as lost. Now he has turned the tables on me. Oh, it's humiliating and mortifying to be thus kicked and beaten, unable to assert my manhood or to redeem my debt. I wouldn't have regretted it if I had died after tearing and biting him to death.
NARRATOR: He strikes the ground and gnashes his teeth,
Clenches his fists and laments aloud,
And all who watch are struck with sympathy.
TOKUBEI : There is no sense in my going on talking like this. Before three days have passed I, Tokubei, will make amends and show to all of Osaka the purity of my heart.
NARRATOR: The meaning of these words is later known.
TOKUBEI : I have bothered you all a great deal. Please forgive me.
NARRATOR: He speaks these words apologetically,
Picks up his battered hat and puts it on,
His face downcast in the sinking rays of the sun
Clouded by the tears in which he is plunged,
Dejectedly he makes his way back home,
A sight so sad that all avert their eyes.
Scene II: Inside the Temma Teahouse
NARRATOR: The breezes of love are clamorous
Where Shijimi River flows, and the denizens
Like empty shells, bereft of their senses,
Wander the dark ways of love lit each night
By burning lanterns, fireflies that glow
The four seasons, stars that shine every night,
By Plum Bridge, which blossoms even in summer,5
Rustics on a visit, city connoisseurs
All following the twisting roads of love,
Where wise men may get lost and fools get by;
Behold the new gay quarter's liveliness!
But pitiful indeed is Ohatsu
Of Temma Teahouse, after she returns,
Nought can she think of but the day's events,
She cannot drink her sake, her spirits are low,
And as she sits weeping, some courtesans
And others of the quarter come up to her.
FIRST COURTESAN: Ohatsu, have you heard about it? They say that Tokubei was given a thrashing for something bad he did. Is it true?
SECOND COURTESAN: No, I had it from a customer that he was trampled to death.
NARRATOR: They say Tokubei was fettered for fraud,
Or trussed for counterfeiting someone's seal,
Not one decent thing have they to report:
Every question of condolence brings her grief.
OHATSU : Oh, please don't say any more. The more I hear the worse my breast pains me. I think that I'll be the first to die. I wish that I were dead already.
NARRATOR: She gives herself to tears, then with one hand
She brushes them away and looks outside—
There in the dark, with covered face, is Tokubei.
At just a glimpse of his anxious, furtive form
Her heart leaps and she wants to rush to him,
But in the back room are the master and his wife,
And by the front gate stands the cook,
While in the garden sharp-eyed waits the maid.
OHATSU: I'm feeling so oppressed. I think I'll step out for a breath of air.
NARRATOR: She steals out sofdy.
OHATSU: What has happened to you? I've heard all kinds of rumors and I've been so worried I've almost gone crazy.
NARRATOR: She lifts his hat and gazes at his face,
And weeps without a sound, in silent grief,
Sad and painful tears—he too is lost in tears.
TOKUBEI: I've been the victim of a clever plot, as no doubt you've heard, and the more I resist it the worse off I am. Everything has turned against me now. I can't survive this night. I've made up my mind to it.
NARRATOR: As he whispers voices come from inside.
VOICES: Come on in, Ohatsu. You don't want people to start gossiping about you.
OHATSU: We can't talk here any longer. Do as I show you.
NARRATOR: She hides him in the skirts of her great-robe:
He crawls behind her to the central door
Then slips beneath the porch next to the step.
Ohatsu sits inside next to the door,
And nonchalandy lights her tobacco.
Just at this juncture Kuheiji bursts in,
W
ith two or three of his foulmouthed friends
And a couple of blind musicians.
KUHEIJI: Hello, girls. You're looking lonesome. How about it if I become a customer? Hello, boss. I haven't seen you in a long time.
NARRATOR: He strides arrogantly into the room.
HOST: Bring the tobacco tray and some sake cups.
KUHEIJI: No, don't bother with the sake. I've had all I want to drink. There's something I've got to discuss with you. You know Tokubei, the number one customer of your Ohatsu? Well, he found a seal I lost, and tried to cheat me with a forged note for two kammc of silver. The facts were too much for him, and he was lucky to get out of it alive. Now he's completely discredited. Everybody will tell you that what I say is the truth, so even if Tokubei says the exact opposite, don't you believe him for a minute. You'd best not let him in at all. Sooner or later he's going to wind up on the scaffold.
NARRATOR: He volleys forth his words convincingly.
Beneath the porch Tokubei gnashes his teeth,
And trembles all over in helpless rage.
Ohatsu, afraid he might reveal himself,
With her foot calms him, calms him splendidly.
The host is loath to answer yes or no,