The legend of Komachi is that she had many lovers when she was young, but
was cruel and mocked at their pain. Among them was one, Shii no
Shōshoō, who came a long way to court her. She told him that
she would not listen to him till he had come on a hundred nights from his
house to hers and cut a hundred notches on the shaft-bench of his chariot.
And so he came a hundred nights all but one, through rain, hail, snow, and
wind. But on the last night he died.
Once, when she was growing old, the poet Yasuhide asked her to go with him
to Mikawa. She answered with the poem:
I that am lonely,
Like a reed root-cut
Should a stream entice me,
Would go, I think."
When she grew quite old, both her friends and her wits forsook her. She
wandered about in destitution, a tattered, crazy beggar-woman.
As shown in this play, her madness was a "possession" by the spirit of the
lover whom she had tormented. She was released from this "possession" by
the virtue of a sacred Stūpa
[1]1
or log carved into five parts, symbolic of the Five Elements, on which
she sat down to rest.
In the disputation between Komachi and the priests, she upholds the
doctrines of the Zen Sect, which uses neither scriptures nor idols; the
priests defend the doctrines of the Shingon Sect, which promises salvation
by the use of incantations and the worship of holy images.
[2]2
There is no doubt about the authorship of this play. Seami
(Works, p. 246) gives it as the work of his father, Kwanami
Kiyotsugu. Kwanami wrote another play, Shii no
Shōshō,
[3]3
in which Shōshō is the principal character and Komachi the
tsure or subordinate.
Seami also used the Komachi legend. In his Sekidera
Komachi he tells how when she was very old the priests of
Sekidera invited her to dance at the festival of Tanabata.
She dances, and in rehearsing the splendours of her youth for a moment
becomes young again.
SOTOBA KOMACHI
By KWANAMI
PERSONS
A Priest of the Kōyasan.Ono no Komachi.Second Priest.Chorus.
Oh, I am weary. I will sit on this tree-stump and rest awhile.
Priest
Come! The sun is sinking; we must hasten on our way. Look, look at that
beggar there! It is a holy Stūpa that she is sitting on! I must tell
her to come off it.
Now then, what is that you are sitting on? Is it not a holy Stūpa,
the worshipful Body of Buddha? Come off it and rest in some other place.
Komachi
Buddha's worshipful body, you say? But I could see no writing on it, nor
any figure carved. I thought it was only a tree-stump.
Who are you? Pray tell us the name you had, and we will pray for you when
you are dead.
Komachi
Shame covers me when I speak my name; but if you will pray for
me, I will try to tell you. This is my name; write it down in your
prayer-list: I am the ruins of Komachi, daughter of Ono no Yoshizane,
Governor of the land of Dewa.
Priests
Oh piteous, piteous! Is this
Komachi that once
Was a bright flower,
Komachi the beautiful, whose dark brows
Linked like young moons;
Her face white-farded ever;
Whose many, many damask robes
Filled cedar-scented halls?
Komachi
I made verses in our speech
And in the speech of the foreign Court.
Chorus
The cup she held at the feast
Like gentle moonlight dropped its glint on her sleeve.
Oh how fell she from splendour,
How came the white of winter
To crown her head?
Where are gone the lovely locks, double-twined,
The coils of jet?
Lank wisps, scant curls wither now
On wilted flesh;
And twin-arches, moth-brows tinge no more
With the hue of far hills. "Oh cover, cover
From the creeping light of dawn
Silted seaweed locks that of a hundred years
Lack now but one. Oh hide me from my shame."
Komachi hides her face.
Chorus
speaking for the Priest.
What is it you carry in the wallet string at your neck?
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