The first of several tales in this collection based extensively on other texts, "Heed My Plea" amply demonstrates the author's familiarity with the New Testament and his intense interest in the figure of Christ. Dazai calls up his biblical quotations and references so freely as to startle the reader accustomed to seeing the scriptural passages in their usual context. Since the author employs a lively style to recast the biblical episodes, it seemed preferable to depend on a contemporary translation for the quoted passages rather than one of the more stately, older translations. The New English Bible: New Testament, published by Oxford University Press, was judged most suitable for this purpose.

Scholars have shown that Dazai began to study the Bible during the mid-1930s, applying himself to the task with special intensity in the autumn of 1936 while spending a month in a hospital for psychiatric observation. Although his interest appears to have diminished after his marriage to Ishihara Michiko in 1939, there is documentation showing that he subscribed from 1941 through 1946 to a Japanese periodical entitled Biblical Knowledge.

Dazai's wife has revealed that her husband dictated "Heed My Plea" to her orally at one sitting early in their marriageー without pausing to choose his words, either. Her testimony is occasionally cited as evidence that the author was expressing ideas an feelings very close to himー indeed, that he had personally experienced an internal conflict acted out in the tale between Christ and Judas. Be that as it may the tale is wholly in the form of a dramatic monologue by Judas, his breathless tone being crucial to the narrative but difficult to convey in translation.

Although Judas addresses his plea to one or more officials, some Japanese critics, mindful of the above testimony, contend that Dazai is simply using Judas as a means of venting his own cri du coeur upon the reader. Although the author presumably prepared himself carefully before sitting down with Michiko, the heightened rhetoric and the sudden transitions of the monologue do convey an impression of spontaneous composition.

However, the degree of authorial deliberation behind the tale becomes evident when one takes note of the irony in a host of passages. Such irony is especially evident in those passages where Judas abruptly changes his mindー and he often does, nowhere more egregiously than at the end of his monologue, where he seems to deny his entire protest. Furthermore, the original title of the tale, "The Direct Appeal," possibly evokes less immediate sympathy for Judas than the freely rendered English title.

In any event some readers will possibly dismiss Judas as a totally unreliable narrator because of his sudden changes of mind; others will possibly take this very phenomenon as a sign that the witness is being forthright. Dazai himself seems to render an adverse judgment by having Judas finally admit to a mercenary motive seems conclusive in the telling, it does not come across as the culmination to which the tale has been leading. The sense of an arbitrary ending could signify that the author might not have resolved the precise nature of Judas' quarrel with Christ.

Listen to me! Listen! I'm telling you, master, the man's horrible. Just horrible. he's obnoxious. And wicked. Ah, I can't bear it! Away with him!

Yes, yes, I'll be calm. But you must put an end to himーhe's against the people. Yes, I'll tell everythingーthe whole story from beginning to end. And I know where he is, so I'll take you there right away. Put him to the sword then, and don't show any mercy. It's true that he's my teacher and lord, but I'm thirty-three years old too; I was born just two months after him, so there's not really much difference between us. The arrogance of the man, the contempt...Imagine, ordering me about like that! Oh, I've had enough. I can't take it anymoreーbetter to be dead than to hold in one's wrath. How many times have I covered up for him? But no one realizes thatーnot even him. I take that back, he does realize it. He's fully aware of it, and that makes him all the more contemptuous of me. He's proud too, so he resents any help I give him. He's so conceited that he ends up making a fool of himself. He's convinced that taking help from someone like me makes him look weak. That's because he's desperate to have others believe him omnipotent. Pure stupidity! The world's not like that. You've got to bow before someone to get on. That's the only wayーstruggle ahead one step at a time while keeping others back. What can he do, really? Not a thing. He's like a lamb that's lost in the woods. Without me he'd have died long ago in some abandoned meadow, together with his good-for-nothing disciples. "Foxes have their holes, birds have their roosts, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head." There's the evidence! You see it, don't you?

And what good does Peter do? Or James, John, Andrew, and Thomas? Fools, the whole bunch of them! THey only follow at his heels uttering the unctious, spine-chilling comments. They're completely taken in by his mad notion of a heaven, and every one of them will want to be some sort of royal minister as the day of the kingdom draws near. The fools can't even earn their daily bread here in this world. Wasn't it I who kept them from starving? I who had him preach his sermons and then coaxed a donation from the crowd? I who got the wealthy villagers to contribute as well? Besides that, I did our everyday shopping and looked after our lodging too. I did everything and didn't complain either. but not a word of gratitude did I get, either from him or from those foolish disciples. Day after day I slaved on my own, but instead of thanking me, he would pretend not to know. And always there were those impossible commands: "Feed the multitude!" he insisted, when all we had were five loaves and two fishes. I had to struggle behind the scenes then and fill the order. Oh yes, I admit that I had helped him from time and time again with all those miracles and sleight-of-the-hand tricks.

Considering the sort of things I did, I might seem a stingy person. I'm a man of taste, though, and not stingy at all. I saw him as a lovely, innocent person without the slightest greed. That's why even though I scrimp and save to buy the daily bread, I don't hate him for squandering our every penny. He's a beautiful man of the spirit, and I appreciate him even though I'm only a poor merchant. I don't even mind when he wastes every pittance I've scraped together. But if he only had a kind word for me now and then...instead of all this hostility.

He was kind to me just once. We were all strolling along the shore one spring when he suddenly called out to me and said, "I realize that you, so helpful to me always, feel pangs of loneliness. But you mustn't keep looking so depressed. It's the hypocrite, wishing others to know of his melancholy, who lets his feelings show. You may be lonely, but you can wash your face, smooth your hair with pomade, and smile as if nothing is wrong. That's the way of the true believer. You don't quite understand? Let me put it this way, then. We may not be able to see our True Father, but He can see even into our hearts. Isn't that enough for you? No? It isn't? But everyone gets lonely."

At these words I felt like crying out, "I don't care whether the Heavenly Father knows about me or not. Or people too, for that matter. I'm satisfied so long as you know. I love you. The other disciples may love you, but not the way I do. I love you more than anyone else does. Peter and the two Jameses merely follow you in hopes of getting something, but I alone understand. And yet I know that nothing will come of following you, and that makes me wonder why I can't leave. Well, without you, I would simply perish. I could not go on living. Here's an idea that I've kept to myself until now. Why don'T you just abandon those useless disciples and give up preaching the Heavenly Father's creed. Be an ordinary man and live the rest of your life with your mother Mary and with me. I still own a small house in my native village. The large peach orchard is still there, and so are my aging parents. In the spring, just about now, the blossoms are splendid. You could spend your entire life there in comfort. And I would always be near, anxious to help. Find a good woman and take her as your wife."

After I had spoken, he smiled wanly and murmured as if to himself, "Peter and SImon are fishermen. They have no fine orchard. James and John are also poor fishermen. They have no land on which to spend their lives in comfort."

He resumed his quiet stroll along the beach, and thereafter we never spoke intimately to one another again. He simply would not confide in me.

I love him. If he dies, I shall die with him. He is mineーmine alone, and I will slay him rather than hand him over. I forsook my father, my mother, and my land. I followed him until now. But I don't believe in heaven or in God, and I don't believe he will rise from the dead either. *Him* the King of Israel? Those foolish disciples believe he's the Son of God, and that's why they leap about each time he speaks the Good News of God's Kingdom. They'll be disappointed soonーI'm sure of that. The man even says that he who exalts himself shall be humbled and he who humbles himself shall be exalted. Does anyone in the real world get away with such cajolery? Deceiver! One thing after anotherーnonsense from beginning to end. Oh, I don't believe a word he says, but I do believe in his beauty. Such beauty is not of this world, and I love him for thatーnot for any reward. I'm not one of your minions who believes the Heavenly Kingdom is at hand and cries out, "Hurrah! Now I'll be a minister of some breanch or other!" I simply don't want to leave him, that's all. I'm content to be near him, to hear his voice and to gaze upon his person. If only he would cease preaching and live a long life together with me. Ah, if only that were possible, how happy I'd be. I only believe in happiness in this world. I'm not afraid of any judgement hereafter.

Why doesn't he accept this pure and unselfish love of mine? Ah, slay him for me! I know where he is, master, and I'll take you there. He hates me, despises me. Scornedーthat's what I am. But he and his disciples would have starved without me. How could he mistreat me when I kept all of them fed and clothed?

Listen to this! Six days ago a woman from the village stole into the room where he was dining at Simon of Bethany's house. It was Mary, the younger sister of Martha, and she was carrying and alabaster jar filled with Oil of Nard. Without a word she poured the oil over him from head to toeーand didn't beg his pardon afterward either. No, she merely crouched there, quite calm, and began gently wiping his feet with her own hair.

The whole thing appeared very strange as the room became filled with fragrance. Then I shouted angrily at the girlーshe shouldn't be so rude! Look! I went on, Wasn't his garment soaked through? And spilling such expensive oilーwasn't that almost a crime? What a foolish woman! Didn't she realize that such oil cost three hundred denarii? How pleased the poor would be if the oil were sold and the money given to them. Where waste occurs, want will follow.

After I had scolded her, he looked straight at me and said, "Why must you make trouble for this woman? It is a fine thing she has done for me. You have the poor among you always; but you will not always have me. When she poured this oil on my body it was her way of preparing me for the burial. I tell you this: wherever in the world this gospel is proclaimed, what she has done will be told as her memorial." By the time he finished, his pale cheeks were slightly flushed.

I don't usually believe what he says, and I could easily have ignored this as more puffery on his part. But there was something different, and a strangeness in the voice and in the look took, that had never been there before. For a moment I was taken aback; but then I looked again at the slightly flushed cheeks and faintly brimming eyes, and suddenly I knew. Oh, how horrible! How disgraceful even to mention it. A wretched farmgirlーand him in love with...No, not quite *that*ーsurely not that. And yet, it was something perilously close to it. Wasn't that how he felt? How humiliating for him to be moved even slightly by an ignorant farmgirl. A scandal beyond repair.

All my life I've had this vulgar, detestable ability to sniff out a shameful emotion. One look and I can spot a weakness. It might have been a slight, but there was something special in his feelings for her. That's the truth, no question about it. My eyes cannot err. No, it just couldn't be so! This was intolerable! He was caught in a trap. Never had he seemed so ridiculous. No matter ow much a woman had loved him, he had always remained beautifulーand calm as the very waters. Never had he been the least bit ruffled. And then he gave in, like any slouch. He's still young, so perhaps this was natural. But I was born just two months after him, so we're almost the same age. We're young, both of us, but I'm the one who's held out. I gave my heart to him alone and refused to love any woman.

Martha the older sister has a sturdy build; indeed, she's as big as a cow, and has a violent temper too. She works furiously at her choresーthat's her one virtue. Otherwise she's just another farmgirl. But Mary the younger sister is different. She has delicate limbs and almost transparent skin. Her hands and feet are tiny and plump, and her large eyes are deep and clear as a lake. There's a distant dreaminess about them too, and that's partly why the villagers all marvel at her gracefulness. Even I was so astonished that I thought of buying her something, maybe even some white silk, while I was in town. Oh, now I'm getting off the track. Let's see, what was I saying...Oh yes, I was biter. It just didn't make sense. I could have stamped my feet in resentment. If he's young, well so am I. I've got talent too, and I'm a fine man with a house and orchard besides. I gave up everything for him only to realize that I'd been taken in. I discovered that he was a fraud. Master, he took my woman. No! That's not it. She stole him from me. Ah, that's wrong too. I'm just blurting things outーdon't belive a word.

I'm confused, and you must pardon me. There's not a word of truth to my babbling. Mere ranting and ravingーnothing more. But I was ashamed, so ashamed that I wanted to rend my breast. I couldn't understand why he felt this way. Ah, jealousy is such an unbearable vice, but my longing for him was so great that I continued to renounce my own life and kept following him till now. But instead of consoling me with a kind word, he favored this wretched farmgirl, blushing in her company even. Well, he's a slouch and he's done for. There's no hope for him. He's mediocreーa nobody. So what if he dies. Perhaps the devil had possessed me, but here I suddenly had a frightening thought. He wanted to be slain anyway, I reasoned, so why shouldn't I do it? He sometimes acted as though he wanted someone to slay him. I'd do it with my own hand, then, because I don't want anyone else to. I'd slay him, then die myself. Master, I'm ashamed of these tears. Yes, all right, I won't weep anymore. Yes, yes, I'll speak calmly.

The next day we set out for Jerusalem, the city of our dreams. As we drew near the temple, a large crowd of both young and old followed after him. Presently he took note of a lone, decrepit ass standing by the road, and, mounting the animal with a smile, he looked grandly at his disciples and spoke of fulfilling the prophecy, "Tell the daughters of Zion, 'Here is your King, who comes to you in gentleness, riding on an ass.'" I alone was depressed by the incident. What a pathetic figure. Was *this* how the Son of David was to ride into the Temple of Jerusalem for the long-awaited Passover? This was the debut for which he had always yearned? Making a spectacle of himself astride this decrepit, tottering ass? I could only pity him for taking part in this pathetic farce.

Ah, the man was done for. If only he lived another day even, he would only humiliate himself further. A flower doesn't survive if it's wiltingーbetter to cut it in bloom. I love him best, and I don't care how much the others despise me. I resolved ever more firmly to slay him right away.

The crowed swelled moment by moment, and garments of red, blue, and yellow were flung down all along the route. The people welcomed him with their cries and lined the way with palm branches. Before and behind him, from the left and the right, the crowd swirled about like a great wave, jostling the man and the ass he was riding, while everyone sand, "Hosanna to the Son of David. Blessings on him who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the Heavens."

Peter, John, Bartholomew, and the other disciplesーfools to the manーembraced one another ecstatically and exchanged tearful kisses, as if they had been following a triumphant general or seen the Kingdom of Heaven with their own eyes. The stubborn Peter held onto John and broke into joyful weeping. As I watched, I recalled the days of poverty and hardship when we traveled about preaching the gospel. In fact, warm tears welled in my own eyes.

And so he entered the temple and descended from the ass. Who knows what it was that possessed him then, but he picked up a rope and began brandishing it, driving out all the cattle and sheep that had been on sale, and knocking over the tables of the money-changers and the seats of the pigeon sellers. "My house shall be called a house of prayer," he thundered, "but you are making it a robber's cave." Was he daft? How, I wondered, could this gentle man carry on like a drunkard? The astonished multitude asked what he was talking about, and, gasping for breath, he replied: "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it again." Even those simple disciples, unable to accept this claim, could only stare.

But I saw what he was up toーhe was showing off like a child might. Since he was constantly saying that all things were possible through faith in him, here was his chance to show his mettle. But flailing a rope about and chasing away helpless merchants? What a niggardly way to prove something! I almost smiled at him from pity. If defiance meant no more than kicking over the seats of pigeon sellers, then he was finished. His self-respect was gone, he simply didn't care anymore. He knew that he had reached his limit. And so he would be seized during Passover and take leave of the world, before his weakness became too evident. When I realized what he was up to, I gave him up for good. How amusing to think that I had once loved this conceited pup so blindly.

Presently he faced the crowd gathered at the temple and spewed forth the most insolent abuse yet. I was rightーsurely the man was desperate. To my eye he even looked slightly bedraggled. He was just itching to be slain.

"Alas for you, lawyers and Pharisees, hypocrites! You clean the outside of your cup and dish, which you have filled inside by robbery and self-indulgence! Blind Pharisees! Clean the inside of the cup first; then the outside will be clean also.

"Alas for you, lawyers and Pharisees, hypocrites! You are like tombs covered with whitewash, they look well from outside, but inside they are full of dead men's bones and all kinds of filth. So it is with you: outside you look like honest men, but inside you are brimful of hypocrisy and crime.

"You snakes, you vipers' brood, how can you escape being condemned to hell?

"O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that murders the prophets and stones the messengers sent to her! How often have I longed to gather your children as a hen gathers her brood under her wings; but you would not let me." Silly and stupidーthat's what I thought. It turns my stomach just to repeat his words here. Why, the man who says such things has got to be deranged. He's carried on about other nonsense tooーfamines, earthquakes, stars falling from the sky, the moon not giving its light, vultures gathering to peck the carcasses that fill the land, the weeping and the gnashing of teeth. He speaks in such a reckless manner, as if he's stuck on himself. It's madnessーthe man doesn't know his place. But he won't get away with it. It's the cross for himーthat's for certain.

Yesterday I heard from a pedlar in town how the elders and priests had met secretly in the latter's court and decided to execute him. I also learned they were fearful the people would rise up if he were seized in public, so thirty pieces of silver would be given to anyone who reported when he would be along with his disciples. He was going to die then, so there was no time to lose. I had to hand him over, I thought, rather than let someone else do it. It was my duty to betray him, a last sign of my enduring love. But this would place me in a trap tooーwill anyone, I wondered, recognize the devotion behind this deed?

It makes no difference, though, because mine is a pure love that doesn't seek recognition. And even if people despise me forever and I end up suffering in eternal hellfire, it will be like nothing alongside of my unquenchable love for him. So determined was I to fulfill my mission that a shudder ran over me as I thought the matter over. I quietly watched for an opportunity, and finally, on the day of the Feast, it came. We had rented a second-floor room in an old eating place upon the hill. All thirteen of us, both Master and disciples, were seated in the dim chamber about to begin the supper when suddenly he rose and removed his tunic without a word. What would he be up to? we wondered. We watched as he took the pitcher from the table and carried it to a corner. There he emptied the water into a small basin. Then, having tied a clean, white towel about his waist, he began to wash our feet. While he was watching the feet of one disciple, the others would idle about in total bewilderment. I alone sensed what was lurking in the Master's mind.

He was lonelyーand so frightened that he would now cling to these ignorant bigots. What a pity. He must have realized what fate held in store for him. Even as I watched, I felt a cry rising in my throat until suddenly I wanted to embrace him and weep. Oh, how sad. Who could ever accuse you? You were always kind and just, ever a friend tot he poor, and always shimmering with beauty. I know that you are truly the Son of God. Please forgive me, for I have watched these two or three days for a chance to betray you. But not any more. How criminal to think of betraying you! Rest assured that, even if five hundred officials or a thousand soldiers should come, they won't lay a finger on you. But they are watching, so let's be wary. And let's be on our way too. Come, Peter. And you too, James. Come, John. Everyone, come! Let's live the rest of our lives protecting this gentle Master of ours.

I felt a profound love for him, but I couldn't express it. There was something sublime about it that I had never known before. The tears of contrition that flowed down my cheeks felt quite agreeable. Finally he washed my feetーever so quietly and gently, and then he wiped them dry with the towel at his waste. Oh, how he touched me! Ah, at that moment I seemed to be in paradise.

Thereafter he washed the feet of Philip and Andrew. Peter was next, but the simple man could not hide his misgivings. Pursing his lips, he petulantly asked, "Master, why do you wash my feet?"

"Ah, you do not understand what I am doing, but one day you will," the master gently admonished, crouching next to Peter. But Peter grew yet more stubborn. "No! Never! You must never wash my feet, for I am unworthy of it," he said, then drew back his feet.

Raising his voice ever so slightly, the Master gave notice: "If I do not wash you, you are not in fellowship with me." The startled Peter bowed low and implored, "Ah, forgive me. Not only my feet, Lord, wash my hands and head as well."

I couldn't help laughing. The other disciples grinned, and the whole room seemed to brighten up. He smiled too and then said to Peter, "A man who has bathed needs no further washing; he is altogether clean. And not only you. But James and John too. All of you are clean and without sin. All except..." Here he paused and sat up straight. For an instant his eyes took on a look of unbearable suffering. Then they shut tighty and did not open. "Except...If only all of you were clean..."

I instantly thoughtーMe! That's who he meant! He had seen through my melancholy a moment ago and knew that I planned to betray him. But things were different nowーI had changed completely. I was cleansed and my heart transformed. Ah, but he didn't realize it. He hadn't noticed. No! You're mistaken! I wanted to cry out, but the words lodged in my throat and I cravenly swallowed them like spit. For some reason I couldn't speak. I just couldn't.

After he had finished speaking, something perverse sprang up within me. Meekly I gave into the feeling, whereupon the cowardly suspicion that perhaps I was unclean expanded into a dark, ugly cloud that swirled within my gut and exploded into a righteous indignation. What! Damned? Me damned? He despised me from the bottom of his heart. Betray him! I told myself. Yes, betray him! I would slay himーand myself too. My earlier determination revived, and I became an utter demon of vengeance. Seemingly unaware of how turbulent my feelings had become, he presently took up his tunic, carefully put it on, and sat down at the table. By the time he spoke, his face was pale.

"Do you understand what I have done for you?" he asked. "You call me 'Master' and 'Lord,' and rightly so, for that is what I am. Then if I; your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. I shall probably not be always with you, and thus I have set an example for you to follow. In very truth I tell you, a servant is no greater than his master, nor messenger than the one who sent him. If you know this, happy are you if you act upon it." Wearily he spoke these words, then began to eat in silence. Bowing his head, he spoke once more: "In truth, in very truth I tell you, one of you is going to betray me." There was a deep sorrow in his voice, as if he were both weeping and moaning.

The disciples nearly recoiled in shock. They stood up, knocking the chairs over, and gathered about him. "Is it I, Lord? Master, can you mean mey?" they cried. Like one already condemned, he barely moved his head. "It is the man to whom I give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish. Alas for that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed. It would be better if he had never been born." For him, these were unusually specific words. After he had spoken them, he took a piece of bread and, stretching forth his hand, placed it unerringly in my mouth.

Instead of shame, I now felt hatred. My courage immediately came back, and I hated him for turning malicious once againーhe was his old self, humiliating me before the others. He and I were like fire and water; we would always be separate. To place a piece of bread in my mouth as though feeding his dog or catーwas this all he could do in revenge? Ha! The Fool! Master, he then told me to do the deed quickly, and so I ran from the place and fled along the dark road as fast as I could. I arrived here only moments ago, and I've made my plea in haste. You must punish himーpunish him as you see fit. You can seize him and beat him with a rod, strip and crucify him even. I've had enough of him; he's terrible...obnoxious...Tormenting me even yet...Ah, damn him! He'll be in the Garden of Gethsemane, by the River Kidron. The meal is over, and it's the hour for prayer, so he'll be there with his disciples. No one else will be around. If you go right away, you can capture him easily. Oh, those birds are making such a ruckus, aren't they? I wonder why I hear them singing tonight? I remember how the birds were chirping even as I ran through the wood. It's an unusual bird that sings in the night. My childlike curiosity got the better of me, and I wanted a glimpse of the bird. So I stopped and, tilting my head, looked up at the trees...ah, forgive me, I'm boring you. Master, is everything ready? Ah, the sweetnessーit makes me feel splendid. It's also the final night for me, isn't it? Master, you'll be so good as to observe both of us standing side by side after tonight. I'll show you the two of us, Master, standing side by side this evening. I don't fear him. We're the same age, and I won't lower myself. I'm a young man of quality, just like him. Ah, those birds are still making a ruckus. How annoying! Why do songbirds chirp here and there? What's all the noise about? Oh yes, the money! You're handing it over? Thirty pieces of silverーfor me? Ah yes, but I really don't want it. So take it back before I hit you. I didn't make this plea for money. Take it back! No, wait, I didn't mean that. Please forgive me. I accept your offer. Yes, I'm a merchant. That's why that lovely man always scorned me. But I am a merchant, so I'll take it. I'll betray him fully, just for the lucre. That'll be my best revenge. Betrayed for thirsty pieces of silverーjust what he deserves! And I won't shed a tear since I don't love him anyway. I never loved him at all. Master, everything I said was false; there's no question that I followed him around for the money. When I realized this evening that he wouldn't let me earn a penny, I quickly changed sides, like any merchant would. Moneyーthat's the only thing. Thirty pieces of silver. Oh, how splendid! I accept. I'm just a penny-pinching merchant, and I can't help being greedy. Yes, thank you. Yes, yes, I forgot to mention it, but I'm Judas the Merchant. Yes, that's Judas Iscariot.