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diff --git a/1210-h/1210-h.htm b/1210-h/1210-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..919420f --- /dev/null +++ b/1210-h/1210-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5361 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Kwaidan: Stories and Studies of Strange Things, by Lafcadio Hearn</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +sup { vertical-align: top; font-size: 0.6em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +p.caption {font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1210 ***</div> + +<h1>KWAIDAN:<br/> +Stories and Studies of Strange Things</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Lafcadio Hearn</h2> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="center"> +A Note from the Digitizer +</p> + +<p class="center"> +On Japanese Pronunciation +</p> + +<p> +Although simplified, the following general rules will help the reader +unfamiliar with Japanese to come close enough to Japanese pronunciation. +</p> + +<p> +There are five vowels: a (as in fAther), i (as in machIne), u (as in fOOl), e +(as in fEllow), and o (as in mOle). Although certain vowels become nearly +“silent” in some environments, this phenomenon can be safely +ignored for the purpose at hand. +</p> + +<p> +Consonants roughly approximate their corresponding sounds in English, except +for r, which is actually somewhere between r and l (this is why the Japanese +have trouble distinguishing between English r and l), and f, which is much +closer to h. +</p> + +<p> +The spelling “KWAIDAN” is based on premodern Japanese +pronunciation; when Hearn came to Japan, the orthography reflecting this +pronunciation was still in use. In modern Japanese the word is pronounced +KAIDAN. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +There are many ellipses in the text. Hearn often used them in this book; they +do not represent omissions by the digitizer. +</p> + +<p> +Author’s original notes are in brackets, those by the digitizer are in +parentheses. +</p> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr><td> <a href="#pref01">INTRODUCTION</a><br/><br/></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap00"><b>KWAIDAN</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap01">THE STORY OF MIMI-NASHI-HŌÏCHI</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap02">OSHIDORI</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap03">THE STORY OF O-TEI</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap04">UBAZAKURA</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap05">DIPLOMACY</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap06">OF A MIRROR AND A BELL</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap07">JIKININKI</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap08">MUJINA</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap09">ROKURO-KUBI</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap10">A DEAD SECRET</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap11">YUKI-ONNA</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap12">THE STORY OF AOYAGI</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap13">JIU-ROKU-ZAKURA</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap14">THE DREAM OF AKINOSUKÉ</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap15">RIKI-BAKA</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap16">HI-MAWARI</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap17">HŌRAI</a><br/><br/></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap18"><b>INSECT STUDIES</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap19">BUTTERFLIES</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap20">MOSQUITOES</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap21">ANTS</a><br/><br/></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#chap22">Notes</a></td></tr> + +</table> + +<h2>Illustrations</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr><td> <a href="#illus01">BLOWING HER BREATH UPON HIM</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td> <a href="#illus02">BUTTERFLY DANCE</a></td></tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="pref01"></a>INTRODUCTION</h2> + +<p> +The publication of a new volume of Lafcadio Hearn’s exquisite studies of +Japan happens, by a delicate irony, to fall in the very month when the world is +waiting with tense expectation for news of the latest exploits of Japanese +battleships. Whatever the outcome of the present struggle between Russia and +Japan, its significance lies in the fact that a nation of the East, equipped +with Western weapons and girding itself with Western energy of will, is +deliberately measuring strength against one of the great powers of the +Occident. No one is wise enough to forecast the results of such a conflict upon +the civilization of the world. The best one can do is to estimate, as +intelligently as possible, the national characteristics of the peoples engaged, +basing one’s hopes and fears upon the psychology of the two races rather +than upon purely political and statistical studies of the complicated questions +involved in the present war. The Russian people have had literary spokesmen who +for more than a generation have fascinated the European audience. The Japanese, +on the other hand, have possessed no such national and universally recognized +figures as Turgenieff or Tolstoy. They need an interpreter. +</p> + +<p> +It may be doubted whether any oriental race has ever had an interpreter gifted +with more perfect insight and sympathy than Lafcadio Hearn has brought to the +translation of Japan into our occidental speech. His long residence in that +country, his flexibility of mind, poetic imagination, and wonderfully pellucid +style have fitted him for the most delicate of literary tasks. He has seen +marvels, and he has told of them in a marvelous way. There is scarcely an +aspect of contemporary Japanese life, scarcely an element in the social, +political, and military questions involved in the present conflict with Russia +which is not made clear in one or another of the books with which he has +charmed American readers. +</p> + +<p> +He characterizes Kwaidan as “stories and studies of strange +things.” A hundred thoughts suggested by the book might be written down, +but most of them would begin and end with this fact of strangeness. To read the +very names in the table of contents is like listening to a Buddhist bell, +struck somewhere far away. Some of his tales are of the long ago, and yet they +seem to illumine the very souls and minds of the little men who are at this +hour crowding the decks of Japan’s armored cruisers. But many of the +stories are about women and children,—the lovely materials from which the +best fairy tales of the world have been woven. They too are strange, these +Japanese maidens and wives and keen-eyed, dark-haired girls and boys; they are +like us and yet not like us; and the sky and the hills and the flowers are all +different from ours. Yet by a magic of which Mr. Hearn, almost alone among +contemporary writers, is the master, in these delicate, transparent, ghostly +sketches of a world unreal to us, there is a haunting sense of spiritual +reality. +</p> + +<p> +In a penetrating and beautiful essay contributed to the “Atlantic +Monthly” in February, 1903, by Paul Elmer More, the secret of Mr. +Hearn’s magic is said to lie in the fact that in his art is found +“the meeting of three ways.” “To the religious instinct of +India—Buddhism in particular,—which history has engrafted on the +aæsthetic sense of Japan, Mr. Hearn brings the interpreting spirit of +occidental science; and these three traditions are fused by the peculiar +sympathies of his mind into one rich and novel compound,—a compound so +rare as to have introduced into literature a psychological sensation unknown +before.” Mr. More’s essay received the high praise of Mr. +Hearn’s recognition and gratitude, and if it were possible to reprint it +here, it would provide a most suggestive introduction to these new stories of +old Japan, whose substance is, as Mr. More has said, “so strangely +mingled together out of the austere dreams of India and the subtle beauty of +Japan and the relentless science of Europe.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<i>March</i>, 1904. +</p> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +Most of the following <i>Kwaidan</i>, or Weird Tales, have been taken from old +Japanese books,—such as the <i>Yasō-Kidan</i>, +<i>Bukkyō-Hyakkwa-Zenshō</i>, <i>Kokon-Chomonshū</i>, <i>Tama-Sudaré</i>, and +<i>Hyaku-Monogatari</i>. Some of the stories may have had a Chinese origin: the +very remarkable “Dream of Akinosuké,” for example, is certainly +from a Chinese source. But the story-teller, in every case, has so recolored +and reshaped his borrowing as to naturalize it... One queer tale, +“Yuki-Onna,” was told me by a farmer of Chōfu, Nishitama-gōri, in +Musashi province, as a legend of his native village. Whether it has ever been +written in Japanese I do not know; but the extraordinary belief which it +records used certainly to exist in most parts of Japan, and in many curious +forms... The incident of “Riki-Baka” was a personal experience; and +I wrote it down almost exactly as it happened, changing only a family-name +mentioned by the Japanese narrator. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +L. H. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +T<small>ŌKYŌ</small>, J<small>APAN</small>, January 20th, 1904. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap00"></a>KWAIDAN</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>THE STORY OF MIMI-NASHI-HŌÏCHI</h2> + +<p> +More than seven hundred years ago, at Dan-no-ura, in the Straits of +Shimonoséki, was fought the last battle of the long contest between the Heiké, +or Taira clan, and the Genji, or Minamoto clan. There the Heiké perished +utterly, with their women and children, and their infant emperor +likewise—now remembered as Antoku Tennō. And that sea and shore have been +haunted for seven hundred years... Elsewhere I told you about the strange crabs +found there, called Heiké crabs, which have human faces on their backs, and are +said to be the spirits of the Heiké warriors<a href="#fn1.1" name="fnref1.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a>. +But there are many strange things to be seen and heard along that coast. On +dark nights thousands of ghostly fires hover about the beach, or flit above the +waves,—pale lights which the fishermen call <i>Oni-bi</i>, or +demon-fires; and, whenever the winds are up, a sound of great shouting comes +from that sea, like a clamor of battle. +</p> + +<p> +In former years the Heiké were much more restless than they now are. They would +rise about ships passing in the night, and try to sink them; and at all times +they would watch for swimmers, to pull them down. It was in order to appease +those dead that the Buddhist temple, Amidaji, was built at Akamagaséki<a +href="#fn1.2" name="fnref1.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a>. A cemetery also was made +close by, near the beach; and within it were set up monuments inscribed with +the names of the drowned emperor and of his great vassals; and Buddhist +services were regularly performed there, on behalf of the spirits of them. +After the temple had been built, and the tombs erected, the Heiké gave less +trouble than before; but they continued to do queer things at +intervals,—proving that they had not found the perfect peace. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Some centuries ago there lived at Akamagaséki a blind man named Hōïchi, who was +famed for his skill in recitation and in playing upon the <i>biwa</i><a +href="#fn1.3" name="fnref1.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a>. From childhood he had been +trained to recite and to play; and while yet a lad he had surpassed his +teachers. As a professional <i>biwa-hōshi</i> he became famous chiefly by his +recitations of the history of the Heiké and the Genji; and it is said that when +he sang the song of the battle of Dan-no-ura “even the goblins +[<i>kijin</i>] could not refrain from tears.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +At the outset of his career, Hōïchi was very poor; but he found a good friend +to help him. The priest of the Amidaji was fond of poetry and music; and he +often invited Hōïchi to the temple, to play and recite. Afterwards, being much +impressed by the wonderful skill of the lad, the priest proposed that Hōïchi +should make the temple his home; and this offer was gratefully accepted. Hōïchi +was given a room in the temple-building; and, in return for food and lodging, +he was required only to gratify the priest with a musical performance on +certain evenings, when otherwise disengaged. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +One summer night the priest was called away, to perform a Buddhist service at +the house of a dead parishioner; and he went there with his acolyte, leaving +Hōïchi alone in the temple. It was a hot night; and the blind man sought to +cool himself on the verandah before his sleeping-room. The verandah overlooked +a small garden in the rear of the Amidaji. There Hōïchi waited for the +priest’s return, and tried to relieve his solitude by practicing upon his +biwa. Midnight passed; and the priest did not appear. But the atmosphere was +still too warm for comfort within doors; and Hōïchi remained outside. At last +he heard steps approaching from the back gate. Somebody crossed the garden, +advanced to the verandah, and halted directly in front of him—but it was +not the priest. A deep voice called the blind man’s name—abruptly +and unceremoniously, in the manner of a samurai summoning an inferior:— +</p> + +<p> +“Hōïchi!” +</p> + +<p> +Hōïchi was too much startled, for the moment, to respond; and the voice called +again, in a tone of harsh command,— +</p> + +<p> +“Hōïchi!” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Hai!</i>”(1) answered the blind man, frightened by the menace +in the voice,—“I am blind!—I cannot know who calls!” +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing to fear,” the stranger exclaimed, speaking more +gently. “I am stopping near this temple, and have been sent to you with a +message. My present lord, a person of exceedingly high rank, is now staying in +Akamagaséki, with many noble attendants. He wished to view the scene of the +battle of Dan-no-ura; and to-day he visited that place. Having heard of your +skill in reciting the story of the battle, he now desires to hear your +performance: so you will take your biwa and come with me at once to the house +where the august assembly is waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +In those times, the order of a samurai was not to be lightly disobeyed. Hōïchi +donned his sandals, took his biwa, and went away with the stranger, who guided +him deftly, but obliged him to walk very fast. The hand that guided was iron; +and the clank of the warrior’s stride proved him fully +armed,—probably some palace-guard on duty. Hōïchi’s first alarm was +over: he began to imagine himself in good luck;—for, remembering the +retainer’s assurance about a “person of exceedingly high +rank,” he thought that the lord who wished to hear the recitation could +not be less than a daimyō of the first class. Presently the samurai halted; and +Hōïchi became aware that they had arrived at a large gateway;—and he +wondered, for he could not remember any large gate in that part of the town, +except the main gate of the Amidaji. “<i>Kaimon!</i>”<a +href="#fn1.4" name="fnref1.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a> the samurai called,—and +there was a sound of unbarring; and the twain passed on. They traversed a space +of garden, and halted again before some entrance; and the retainer cried in a +loud voice, “Within there! I have brought Hōïchi.” Then came sounds +of feet hurrying, and screens sliding, and rain-doors opening, and voices of +women in converse. By the language of the women Hōïchi knew them to be +domestics in some noble household; but he could not imagine to what place he +had been conducted. Little time was allowed him for conjecture. After he had +been helped to mount several stone steps, upon the last of which he was told to +leave his sandals, a woman’s hand guided him along interminable reaches +of polished planking, and round pillared angles too many to remember, and over +widths amazing of matted floor,—into the middle of some vast apartment. +There he thought that many great people were assembled: the sound of the +rustling of silk was like the sound of leaves in a forest. He heard also a +great humming of voices,—talking in undertones; and the speech was the +speech of courts. +</p> + +<p> +Hōïchi was told to put himself at ease, and he found a kneeling-cushion ready +for him. After having taken his place upon it, and tuned his instrument, the +voice of a woman—whom he divined to be the <i>Rōjo</i>, or matron in +charge of the female service—addressed him, saying,— +</p> + +<p> +“It is now required that the history of the Heiké be recited, to the +accompaniment of the biwa.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the entire recital would have required a time of many nights: therefore +Hōïchi ventured a question:— +</p> + +<p> +“As the whole of the story is not soon told, what portion is it augustly +desired that I now recite?” +</p> + +<p> +The woman’s voice made answer:— +</p> + +<p> +“Recite the story of the battle at Dan-no-ura,—for the pity of it +is the most deep.”<a href="#fn1.5" name="fnref1.5"><sup>[5]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +Then Hōïchi lifted up his voice, and chanted the chant of the fight on the +bitter sea,—wonderfully making his biwa to sound like the straining of +oars and the rushing of ships, the whirr and the hissing of arrows, the +shouting and trampling of men, the crashing of steel upon helmets, the plunging +of slain in the flood. And to left and right of him, in the pauses of his +playing, he could hear voices murmuring praise: “How marvelous an +artist!”—“Never in our own province was playing heard like +this!”—“Not in all the empire is there another singer like +Hōïchi!” Then fresh courage came to him, and he played and sang yet +better than before; and a hush of wonder deepened about him. But when at last +he came to tell the fate of the fair and helpless,—the piteous perishing +of the women and children,—and the death-leap of Nii-no-Ama, with the +imperial infant in her arms,—then all the listeners uttered together one +long, long shuddering cry of anguish; and thereafter they wept and wailed so +loudly and so wildly that the blind man was frightened by the violence and +grief that he had made. For much time the sobbing and the wailing continued. +But gradually the sounds of lamentation died away; and again, in the great +stillness that followed, Hōïchi heard the voice of the woman whom he supposed +to be the Rōjo. +</p> + +<p> +She said:— +</p> + +<p> +“Although we had been assured that you were a very skillful player upon +the biwa, and without an equal in recitative, we did not know that any one +could be so skillful as you have proved yourself to-night. Our lord has been +pleased to say that he intends to bestow upon you a fitting reward. But he +desires that you shall perform before him once every night for the next six +nights—after which time he will probably make his august return-journey. +To-morrow night, therefore, you are to come here at the same hour. The retainer +who to-night conducted you will be sent for you... There is another matter +about which I have been ordered to inform you. It is required that you shall +speak to no one of your visits here, during the time of our lord’s august +sojourn at Akamagaséki. As he is traveling incognito,<a href="#fn1.6" +name="fnref1.6"><sup>[6]</sup></a> he commands that no mention of these things +be made... You are now free to go back to your temple.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +After Hōïchi had duly expressed his thanks, a woman’s hand conducted him +to the entrance of the house, where the same retainer, who had before guided +him, was waiting to take him home. The retainer led him to the verandah at the +rear of the temple, and there bade him farewell. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +It was almost dawn when Hōïchi returned; but his absence from the temple had +not been observed,—as the priest, coming back at a very late hour, had +supposed him asleep. During the day Hōïchi was able to take some rest; and he +said nothing about his strange adventure. In the middle of the following night +the samurai again came for him, and led him to the august assembly, where he +gave another recitation with the same success that had attended his previous +performance. But during this second visit his absence from the temple was +accidentally discovered; and after his return in the morning he was summoned to +the presence of the priest, who said to him, in a tone of kindly +reproach:— +</p> + +<p> +“We have been very anxious about you, friend Hōïchi. To go out, blind and +alone, at so late an hour, is dangerous. Why did you go without telling us? I +could have ordered a servant to accompany you. And where have you been?” +</p> + +<p> +Hōïchi answered, evasively,— +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me kind friend! I had to attend to some private business; and I +could not arrange the matter at any other hour.” +</p> + +<p> +The priest was surprised, rather than pained, by Hōïchi’s reticence: he +felt it to be unnatural, and suspected something wrong. He feared that the +blind lad had been bewitched or deluded by some evil spirits. He did not ask +any more questions; but he privately instructed the men-servants of the temple +to keep watch upon Hōïchi’s movements, and to follow him in case that he +should again leave the temple after dark. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +On the very next night, Hōïchi was seen to leave the temple; and the servants +immediately lighted their lanterns, and followed after him. But it was a rainy +night, and very dark; and before the temple-folks could get to the roadway, +Hōïchi had disappeared. Evidently he had walked very fast,—a strange +thing, considering his blindness; for the road was in a bad condition. The men +hurried through the streets, making inquiries at every house which Hōïchi was +accustomed to visit; but nobody could give them any news of him. At last, as +they were returning to the temple by way of the shore, they were startled by +the sound of a biwa, furiously played, in the cemetery of the Amidaji. Except +for some ghostly fires—such as usually flitted there on dark +nights—all was blackness in that direction. But the men at once hastened +to the cemetery; and there, by the help of their lanterns, they discovered +Hōïchi,—sitting alone in the rain before the memorial tomb of Antoku +Tennō, making his biwa resound, and loudly chanting the chant of the battle of +Dan-no-ura. And behind him, and about him, and everywhere above the tombs, the +fires of the dead were burning, like candles. Never before had so great a host +of <i>Oni-bi</i> appeared in the sight of mortal man... +</p> + +<p> +“Hōïchi San!—Hōïchi San!” the servants +cried,—“you are bewitched!... Hōïchi San!” +</p> + +<p> +But the blind man did not seem to hear. Strenuously he made his biwa to rattle +and ring and clang;—more and more wildly he chanted the chant of the +battle of Dan-no-ura. They caught hold of him;—they shouted into his +ear,— +</p> + +<p> +“Hōïchi San!—Hōïchi San!—come home with us at once!” +</p> + +<p> +Reprovingly he spoke to them:— +</p> + +<p> +“To interrupt me in such a manner, before this august assembly, will not +be tolerated.” +</p> + +<p> +Whereat, in spite of the weirdness of the thing, the servants could not help +laughing. Sure that he had been bewitched, they now seized him, and pulled him +up on his feet, and by main force hurried him back to the temple,—where +he was immediately relieved of his wet clothes, by order of the priest. Then +the priest insisted upon a full explanation of his friend’s astonishing +behavior. +</p> + +<p> +Hōïchi long hesitated to speak. But at last, finding that his conduct had +really alarmed and angered the good priest, he decided to abandon his reserve; +and he related everything that had happened from the time of first visit of the +samurai. +</p> + +<p> +The priest said:— +</p> + +<p> +“Hōïchi, my poor friend, you are now in great danger! How unfortunate +that you did not tell me all this before! Your wonderful skill in music has +indeed brought you into strange trouble. By this time you must be aware that +you have not been visiting any house whatever, but have been passing your +nights in the cemetery, among the tombs of the Heiké;—and it was before +the memorial-tomb of Antoku Tennō that our people to-night found you, sitting +in the rain. All that you have been imagining was illusion—except the +calling of the dead. By once obeying them, you have put yourself in their +power. If you obey them again, after what has already occurred, they will tear +you in pieces. But they would have destroyed you, sooner or later, in any +event... Now I shall not be able to remain with you to-night: I am called away +to perform another service. But, before I go, it will be necessary to protect +your body by writing holy texts upon it.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Before sundown the priest and his acolyte stripped Hōïchi: then, with their +writing-brushes, they traced upon his breast and back, head and face and neck, +limbs and hands and feet,—even upon the soles of his feet, and upon all +parts of his body,—the text of the holy sûtra called +<i>Hannya-Shin-Kyō</i>.<a href="#fn1.7" name="fnref1.7"><sup>[7]</sup></a> When +this had been done, the priest instructed Hōïchi, saying:— +</p> + +<p> +“To-night, as soon as I go away, you must seat yourself on the verandah, +and wait. You will be called. But, whatever may happen, do not answer, and do +not move. Say nothing and sit still—as if meditating. If you stir, or +make any noise, you will be torn asunder. Do not get frightened; and do not +think of calling for help—because no help could save you. If you do +exactly as I tell you, the danger will pass, and you will have nothing more to +fear.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +After dark the priest and the acolyte went away; and Hōïchi seated himself on +the verandah, according to the instructions given him. He laid his biwa on the +planking beside him, and, assuming the attitude of meditation, remained quite +still,—taking care not to cough, or to breathe audibly. For hours he +stayed thus. +</p> + +<p> +Then, from the roadway, he heard the steps coming. They passed the gate, +crossed the garden, approached the verandah, stopped—directly in front of +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Hōïchi!” the deep voice called. But the blind man held his breath, +and sat motionless. +</p> + +<p> +“Hōïchi!” grimly called the voice a second time. Then a third +time—savagely:— +</p> + +<p> +“Hōïchi!” +</p> + +<p> +Hōïchi remained as still as a stone,—and the voice grumbled:— +</p> + +<p> +“No answer!—that won’t do!... Must see where the fellow +is.”... +</p> + +<p> +There was a noise of heavy feet mounting upon the verandah. The feet approached +deliberately,—halted beside him. Then, for long minutes,—during +which Hōïchi felt his whole body shake to the beating of his heart,—there +was dead silence. +</p> + +<p> +At last the gruff voice muttered close to him:— +</p> + +<p> +“Here is the biwa; but of the biwa-player I see—only two ears!... +So that explains why he did not answer: he had no mouth to answer +with—there is nothing left of him but his ears... Now to my lord those +ears I will take—in proof that the august commands have been obeyed, so +far as was possible”... +</p> + +<p> +At that instant Hōïchi felt his ears gripped by fingers of iron, and torn off! +Great as the pain was, he gave no cry. The heavy footfalls receded along the +verandah,—descended into the garden,—passed out to the +roadway,—ceased. From either side of his head, the blind man felt a thick +warm trickling; but he dared not lift his hands... +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Before sunrise the priest came back. He hastened at once to the verandah in the +rear, stepped and slipped upon something clammy, and uttered a cry of +horror;—for he saw, by the light of his lantern, that the clamminess was +blood. But he perceived Hōïchi sitting there, in the attitude of +meditation—with the blood still oozing from his wounds. +</p> + +<p> +“My poor Hōïchi!” cried the startled priest,—“what is +this?... You have been hurt?” +</p> + +<p> +At the sound of his friend’s voice, the blind man felt safe. He burst out +sobbing, and tearfully told his adventure of the night. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor, poor Hōïchi!” the priest exclaimed,—“all my +fault!—my very grievous fault!... Everywhere upon your body the holy +texts had been written—except upon your ears! I trusted my acolyte to do +that part of the work; and it was very, very wrong of me not to have made sure +that he had done it!... Well, the matter cannot now be helped;—we can +only try to heal your hurts as soon as possible... Cheer up, friend!—the +danger is now well over. You will never again be troubled by those +visitors.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +With the aid of a good doctor, Hōïchi soon recovered from his injuries. The +story of his strange adventure spread far and wide, and soon made him famous. +Many noble persons went to Akamagaséki to hear him recite; and large presents +of money were given to him,—so that he became a wealthy man... But from +the time of his adventure, he was known only by the appellation of +<i>Mimi-nashi-Hōïchi:</i> “Hōïchi-the-Earless.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>OSHIDORI</h2> + +<p> +There was a falconer and hunter, named Sonjō, who lived in the district called +Tamura-no-Gō, of the province of Mutsu. One day he went out hunting, and could +not find any game. But on his way home, at a place called Akanuma, he perceived +a pair of <i>oshidori</i><a href="#fn2.1" name="fnref2.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +(mandarin-ducks), swimming together in a river that he was about to cross. To +kill <i>oshidori</i> is not good; but Sonjō happened to be very hungry, and he +shot at the pair. His arrow pierced the male: the female escaped into the +rushes of the further shore, and disappeared. Sonjō took the dead bird home, +and cooked it. +</p> + +<p> +That night he dreamed a dreary dream. It seemed to him that a beautiful woman +came into his room, and stood by his pillow, and began to weep. So bitterly did +she weep that Sonjō felt as if his heart were being torn out while he listened. +And the woman cried to him: “Why,—oh! why did you kill +him?—of what wrong was he guilty?... At Akanuma we were so happy +together,—and you killed him!... What harm did he ever do you? Do you +even know what you have done?—oh! do you know what a cruel, what a wicked +thing you have done?... Me too you have killed,—for I will not live +without my husband!... Only to tell you this I came.”... Then again she +wept aloud,—so bitterly that the voice of her crying pierced into the +marrow of the listener’s bones;—and she sobbed out the words of +this poem:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Hi kururéba<br/> +Sasoëshi mono wo—<br/> + Akanuma no<br/> +Makomo no kuré no<br/> +Hitori-né zo uki! +</p> + +<p> +[<i>“At the coming of twilight I invited him to return with me—! +Now to sleep alone in the shadow of the rushes of Akanuma—ah! what misery +unspeakable!”</i>]<a href="#fn2.2" name="fnref2.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +And after having uttered these verses she exclaimed:—“Ah, you do +not know—you cannot know what you have done! But to-morrow, when you go +to Akanuma, you will see,—you will see...” So saying, and weeping +very piteously, she went away. +</p> + +<p> +When Sonjō awoke in the morning, this dream remained so vivid in his mind that +he was greatly troubled. He remembered the words:—“But to-morrow, +when you go to Akanuma, you will see,—you will see.” And he +resolved to go there at once, that he might learn whether his dream was +anything more than a dream. +</p> + +<p> +So he went to Akanuma; and there, when he came to the river-bank, he saw the +female <i>oshidori</i> swimming alone. In the same moment the bird perceived +Sonjō; but, instead of trying to escape, she swam straight towards him, looking +at him the while in a strange fixed way. Then, with her beak, she suddenly tore +open her own body, and died before the hunter’s eyes... +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Sonjō shaved his head, and became a priest. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>THE STORY OF O-TEI</h2> + +<p> +A long time ago, in the town of Niigata, in the province of Echizen, there +lived a man called Nagao Chōsei. +</p> + +<p> +Nagao was the son of a physician, and was educated for his father’s +profession. At an early age he had been betrothed to a girl called O-Tei, the +daughter of one of his father’s friends; and both families had agreed +that the wedding should take place as soon as Nagao had finished his studies. +But the health of O-Tei proved to be weak; and in her fifteenth year she was +attacked by a fatal consumption. When she became aware that she must die, she +sent for Nagao to bid him farewell. +</p> + +<p> +As he knelt at her bedside, she said to him:— +</p> + +<p> +“Nagao-Sama, (1) my betrothed, we were promised to each other from the +time of our childhood; and we were to have been married at the end of this +year. But now I am going to die;—the gods know what is best for us. If I +were able to live for some years longer, I could only continue to be a cause of +trouble and grief for others. With this frail body, I could not be a good wife; +and therefore even to wish to live, for your sake, would be a very selfish +wish. I am quite resigned to die; and I want you to promise that you will not +grieve... Besides, I want to tell you that I think we shall meet +again.”... +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed we shall meet again,” Nagao answered earnestly. “And +in that Pure Land (2) there will be no pain of separation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, nay!” she responded softly, “I meant not the Pure Land. +I believe that we are destined to meet again in this world,—although I +shall be buried to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +Nagao looked at her wonderingly, and saw her smile at his wonder. She +continued, in her gentle, dreamy voice,— +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I mean in this world,—in your own present life, Nagao-Sama... +Providing, indeed, that you wish it. Only, for this thing to happen, I must +again be born a girl, and grow up to womanhood. So you would have to wait. +Fifteen—sixteen years: that is a long time... But, my promised husband, +you are now only nineteen years old.”... +</p> + +<p> +Eager to soothe her dying moments, he answered tenderly:— +</p> + +<p> +“To wait for you, my betrothed, were no less a joy than a duty. We are +pledged to each other for the time of seven existences.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you doubt?” she questioned, watching his face. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear one,” he answered, “I doubt whether I should be able +to know you in another body, under another name,—unless you can tell me +of a sign or token.” +</p> + +<p> +“That I cannot do,” she said. “Only the Gods and the Buddhas +know how and where we shall meet. But I am sure—very, very +sure—that, if you be not unwilling to receive me, I shall be able to come +back to you... Remember these words of mine.”... +</p> + +<p> +She ceased to speak; and her eyes closed. She was dead. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +Nagao had been sincerely attached to O-Tei; and his grief was deep. He had a +mortuary tablet made, inscribed with her <i>zokumyō;</i><a href="#fn3.1" +name="fnref3.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> and he placed the tablet in his +<i>butsudan</i>,<a href="#fn3.2" name="fnref3.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> and every +day set offerings before it. He thought a great deal about the strange things +that O-Tei had said to him just before her death; and, in the hope of pleasing +her spirit, he wrote a solemn promise to wed her if she could ever return to +him in another body. This written promise he sealed with his seal, and placed +in the <i>butsudan</i> beside the mortuary tablet of O-Tei. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Nevertheless, as Nagao was an only son, it was necessary that he should marry. +He soon found himself obliged to yield to the wishes of his family, and to +accept a wife of his father’s choosing. After his marriage he continued +to set offerings before the tablet of O-Tei; and he never failed to remember +her with affection. But by degrees her image became dim in his +memory,—like a dream that is hard to recall. And the years went by. +</p> + +<p> +During those years many misfortunes came upon him. He lost his parents by +death,—then his wife and his only child. So that he found himself alone +in the world. He abandoned his desolate home, and set out upon a long journey +in the hope of forgetting his sorrows. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +One day, in the course of his travels, he arrived at Ikao,—a +mountain-village still famed for its thermal springs, and for the beautiful +scenery of its neighborhood. In the village-inn at which he stopped, a young +girl came to wait upon him; and, at the first sight of her face, he felt his +heart leap as it had never leaped before. So strangely did she resemble O-Tei +that he pinched himself to make sure that he was not dreaming. As she went and +came,—bringing fire and food, or arranging the chamber of the +guest,—her every attitude and motion revived in him some gracious memory +of the girl to whom he had been pledged in his youth. He spoke to her; and she +responded in a soft, clear voice of which the sweetness saddened him with a +sadness of other days. +</p> + +<p> +Then, in great wonder, he questioned her, saying:— +</p> + +<p> +“Elder Sister (3), so much do you look like a person whom I knew long +ago, that I was startled when you first entered this room. Pardon me, +therefore, for asking what is your native place, and what is your name?” +</p> + +<p> +Immediately,—and in the unforgotten voice of the dead,—she thus +made answer:— +</p> + +<p> +“My name is O-Tei; and you are Nagao Chōsei of Echigo, my promised +husband. Seventeen years ago, I died in Niigata: then you made in writing a +promise to marry me if ever I could come back to this world in the body of a +woman;—and you sealed that written promise with your seal, and put it in +the <i>butsudan</i>, beside the tablet inscribed with my name. And therefore I +came back.”... +</p> + +<p> +As she uttered these last words, she fell unconscious. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Nagao married her; and the marriage was a happy one. But at no time afterwards +could she remember what she had told him in answer to his question at Ikao: +neither could she remember anything of her previous existence. The recollection +of the former birth,—mysteriously kindled in the moment of that +meeting,—had again become obscured, and so thereafter remained. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>UBAZAKURA</h2> + +<p> +Three hundred years ago, in the village called Asamimura, in the district +called Onsengōri, in the province of Iyō, there lived a good man named Tokubei. +This Tokubei was the richest person in the district, and the <i>muraosa</i>, or +headman, of the village. In most matters he was fortunate; but he reached the +age of forty without knowing the happiness of becoming a father. Therefore he +and his wife, in the affliction of their childlessness, addressed many prayers +to the divinity Fudō Myō Ō, who had a famous temple, called Saihōji, in +Asamimura. +</p> + +<p> +At last their prayers were heard: the wife of Tokubei gave birth to a daughter. +The child was very pretty; and she received the name of Tsuyu. As the +mother’s milk was deficient, a milk-nurse, called O-Sodé, was hired for +the little one. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +O-Tsuyu grew up to be a very beautiful girl; but at the age of fifteen she fell +sick, and the doctors thought that she was going to die. In that time the nurse +O-Sodé, who loved O-Tsuyu with a real mother’s love, went to the temple +Saihōji, and fervently prayed to Fudō-Sama on behalf of the girl. Every day, +for twenty-one days, she went to the temple and prayed; and at the end of that +time, O-Tsuyu suddenly and completely recovered. +</p> + +<p> +Then there was great rejoicing in the house of Tokubei; and he gave a feast to +all his friends in celebration of the happy event. But on the night of the +feast the nurse O-Sodé was suddenly taken ill; and on the following morning, +the doctor, who had been summoned to attend her, announced that she was dying. +</p> + +<p> +Then the family, in great sorrow, gathered about her bed, to bid her farewell. +But she said to them:— +</p> + +<p> +“It is time that I should tell you something which you do not know. My +prayer has been heard. I besought Fudō-Sama that I might be permitted to die in +the place of O-Tsuyu; and this great favor has been granted me. Therefore you +must not grieve about my death... But I have one request to make. I promised +Fudō-Sama that I would have a cherry-tree planted in the garden of Saihōji, for +a thank-offering and a commemoration. Now I shall not be able myself to plant +the tree there: so I must beg that you will fulfill that vow for me... +Good-bye, dear friends; and remember that I was happy to die for +O-Tsuyu’s sake.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +After the funeral of O-Sodé, a young cherry-tree,—the finest that could +be found,—was planted in the garden of Saihōji by the parents of O-Tsuyu. +The tree grew and flourished; and on the sixteenth day of the second month of +the following year,—the anniversary of O-Sodé’s death,—it +blossomed in a wonderful way. So it continued to blossom for two hundred and +fifty-four years,—always upon the sixteenth day of the second +month;—and its flowers, pink and white, were like the nipples of a +woman’s breasts, bedewed with milk. And the people called it +<i>Ubazakura</i>, the Cherry-tree of the Milk-Nurse. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>DIPLOMACY</h2> + +<p> +It had been ordered that the execution should take place in the garden of the +<i>yashiki</i> (1). So the man was taken there, and made to kneel down in a +wide sanded space crossed by a line of <i>tobi-ishi</i>, or stepping-stones, +such as you may still see in Japanese landscape-gardens. His arms were bound +behind him. Retainers brought water in buckets, and rice-bags filled with +pebbles; and they packed the rice-bags round the kneeling man,—so wedging +him in that he could not move. The master came, and observed the arrangements. +He found them satisfactory, and made no remarks. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the condemned man cried out to him:— +</p> + +<p> +“Honored Sir, the fault for which I have been doomed I did not wittingly +commit. It was only my very great stupidity which caused the fault. Having been +born stupid, by reason of my Karma, I could not always help making mistakes. +But to kill a man for being stupid is wrong,—and that wrong will be +repaid. So surely as you kill me, so surely shall I be avenged;—out of +the resentment that you provoke will come the vengeance; and evil will be +rendered for evil.”... +</p> + +<p> +If any person be killed while feeling strong resentment, the ghost of that +person will be able to take vengeance upon the killer. This the samurai knew. +He replied very gently,—almost caressingly:— +</p> + +<p> +“We shall allow you to frighten us as much as you please—after you +are dead. But it is difficult to believe that you mean what you say. Will you +try to give us some sign of your great resentment—after your head has +been cut off?” +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly I will,” answered the man. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said the samurai, drawing his long +sword;—“I am now going to cut off your head. Directly in front of +you there is a stepping-stone. After your head has been cut off, try to bite +the stepping-stone. If your angry ghost can help you to do that, some of us may +be frightened... Will you try to bite the stone?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will bite it!” cried the man, in great anger,—“I +will bite it!—I will bite”— +</p> + +<p> +There was a flash, a swish, a crunching thud: the bound body bowed over the +rice sacks,—two long blood-jets pumping from the shorn neck;—and +the head rolled upon the sand. Heavily toward the stepping-stone it rolled: +then, suddenly bounding, it caught the upper edge of the stone between its +teeth, clung desperately for a moment, and dropped inert. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +None spoke; but the retainers stared in horror at their master. He seemed to be +quite unconcerned. He merely held out his sword to the nearest attendant, who, +with a wooden dipper, poured water over the blade from haft to point, and then +carefully wiped the steel several times with sheets of soft paper... And thus +ended the ceremonial part of the incident. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +For months thereafter, the retainers and the domestics lived in ceaseless fear +of ghostly visitation. None of them doubted that the promised vengeance would +come; and their constant terror caused them to hear and to see much that did +not exist. They became afraid of the sound of the wind in the +bamboos,—afraid even of the stirring of shadows in the garden. At last, +after taking counsel together, they decided to petition their master to have a +<i>Ségaki</i>-service (2) performed on behalf of the vengeful spirit. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite unnecessary,” the samurai said, when his chief retainer had +uttered the general wish... “I understand that the desire of a dying man +for revenge may be a cause for fear. But in this case there is nothing to +fear.” +</p> + +<p> +The retainer looked at his master beseechingly, but hesitated to ask the reason +of the alarming confidence. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the reason is simple enough,” declared the samurai, divining +the unspoken doubt. “Only the very last intention of the fellow could +have been dangerous; and when I challenged him to give me the sign, I diverted +his mind from the desire of revenge. He died with the set purpose of biting the +stepping-stone; and that purpose he was able to accomplish, but nothing else. +All the rest he must have forgotten... So you need not feel any further anxiety +about the matter.” +</p> + +<p> +—And indeed the dead man gave no more trouble. Nothing at all happened. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>OF A MIRROR AND A BELL</h2> + +<p> +Eight centuries ago, the priests of Mugenyama, in the province of Tōtōmi (1), +wanted a big bell for their temple; and they asked the women of their parish to +help them by contributing old bronze mirrors for bell-metal. +</p> + +<p> +[Even to-day, in the courts of certain Japanese temples, you may see heaps of +old bronze mirrors contributed for such a purpose. The largest collection of +this kind that I ever saw was in the court of a temple of the Jōdo sect, at +Hakata, in Kyūshū: the mirrors had been given for the making of a bronze statue +of Amida, thirty-three feet high.] +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +There was at that time a young woman, a farmer’s wife, living at +Mugenyama, who presented her mirror to the temple, to be used for bell-metal. +But afterwards she much regretted her mirror. She remembered things that her +mother had told her about it; and she remembered that it had belonged, not only +to her mother but to her mother’s mother and grandmother; and she +remembered some happy smiles which it had reflected. Of course, if she could +have offered the priests a certain sum of money in place of the mirror, she +could have asked them to give back her heirloom. But she had not the money +necessary. Whenever she went to the temple, she saw her mirror lying in the +court-yard, behind a railing, among hundreds of other mirrors heaped there +together. She knew it by the <i>Shō-Chiku-Bai</i> in relief on the back of +it,—those three fortunate emblems of Pine, Bamboo, and Plumflower, which +delighted her baby-eyes when her mother first showed her the mirror. She longed +for some chance to steal the mirror, and hide it,—that she might +thereafter treasure it always. But the chance did not come; and she became very +unhappy,—felt as if she had foolishly given away a part of her life. She +thought about the old saying that a mirror is the Soul of a Woman—(a +saying mystically expressed, by the Chinese character for Soul, upon the backs +of many bronze mirrors),—and she feared that it was true in weirder ways +than she had before imagined. But she could not dare to speak of her pain to +anybody. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Now, when all the mirrors contributed for the Mugenyama bell had been sent to +the foundry, the bell-founders discovered that there was one mirror among them +which would not melt. Again and again they tried to melt it; but it resisted +all their efforts. Evidently the woman who had given that mirror to the temple +must have regretted the giving. She had not presented her offering with all her +heart; and therefore her selfish soul, remaining attached to the mirror, kept +it hard and cold in the midst of the furnace. +</p> + +<p> +Of course everybody heard of the matter, and everybody soon knew whose mirror +it was that would not melt. And because of this public exposure of her secret +fault, the poor woman became very much ashamed and very angry. And as she could +not bear the shame, she drowned herself, after having written a farewell letter +containing these words:— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“When I am dead, it will not be difficult to melt the mirror and to cast +the bell. But, to the person who breaks that bell by ringing it, great wealth +will be given by the ghost of me.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +—You must know that the last wish or promise of anybody who dies in +anger, or performs suicide in anger, is generally supposed to possess a +supernatural force. After the dead woman’s mirror had been melted, and +the bell had been successfully cast, people remembered the words of that +letter. They felt sure that the spirit of the writer would give wealth to the +breaker of the bell; and, as soon as the bell had been suspended in the court +of the temple, they went in multitude to ring it. With all their might and main +they swung the ringing-beam; but the bell proved to be a good bell, and it +bravely withstood their assaults. Nevertheless, the people were not easily +discouraged. Day after day, at all hours, they continued to ring the bell +furiously,—caring nothing whatever for the protests of the priests. So +the ringing became an affliction; and the priests could not endure it; and they +got rid of the bell by rolling it down the hill into a swamp. The swamp was +deep, and swallowed it up,—and that was the end of the bell. Only its +legend remains; and in that legend it is called the <i>Mugen-Kané</i>, or Bell +of Mugen. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +Now there are queer old Japanese beliefs in the magical efficacy of a certain +mental operation implied, though not described, by the verb <i>nazoraëru</i>. +The word itself cannot be adequately rendered by any English word; for it is +used in relation to many kinds of mimetic magic, as well as in relation to the +performance of many religious acts of faith. Common meanings of +<i>nazoraëru</i>, according to dictionaries, are “to imitate,” +“to compare,” “to liken;” but the esoteric meaning is +<i>to substitute, in imagination, one object or action for another, so as to +bring about some magical or miraculous result</i>. +</p> + +<p> +For example:—you cannot afford to build a Buddhist temple; but you can +easily lay a pebble before the image of the Buddha, with the same pious feeling +that would prompt you to build a temple if you were rich enough to build one. +The merit of so offering the pebble becomes equal, or almost equal, to the +merit of erecting a temple... You cannot read the six thousand seven hundred +and seventy-one volumes of the Buddhist texts; but you can make a revolving +library, containing them, turn round, by pushing it like a windlass. And if you +push with an earnest wish that you could read the six thousand seven hundred +and seventy-one volumes, you will acquire the same merit as the reading of them +would enable you to gain... So much will perhaps suffice to explain the +religious meanings of <i>nazoraëru</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The magical meanings could not all be explained without a great variety of +examples; but, for present purposes, the following will serve. If you should +make a little man of straw, for the same reason that Sister Helen made a little +man of wax,—and nail it, with nails not less than five inches long, to +some tree in a temple-grove at the Hour of the Ox (2),—and if the person, +imaginatively represented by that little straw man, should die thereafter in +atrocious agony,—that would illustrate one signification of +<i>nazoraëru</i>... Or, let us suppose that a robber has entered your house +during the night, and carried away your valuables. If you can discover the +footprints of that robber in your garden, and then promptly burn a very large +moxa on each of them, the soles of the feet of the robber will become inflamed, +and will allow him no rest until he returns, of his own accord, to put himself +at your mercy. That is another kind of mimetic magic expressed by the term +<i>nazoraëru</i>. And a third kind is illustrated by various legends of the +Mugen-Kané. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +After the bell had been rolled into the swamp, there was, of course, no more +chance of ringing it in such wise as to break it. But persons who regretted +this loss of opportunity would strike and break objects imaginatively +substituted for the bell,—thus hoping to please the spirit of the owner +of the mirror that had made so much trouble. One of these persons was a woman +called Umégaë,—famed in Japanese legend because of her relation to +Kajiwara Kagesue, a warrior of the Heiké clan. While the pair were traveling +together, Kajiwara one day found himself in great straits for want of money; +and Umégaë, remembering the tradition of the Bell of Mugen, took a basin of +bronze, and, mentally representing it to be the bell, beat upon it until she +broke it,—crying out, at the same time, for three hundred pieces of gold. +A guest of the inn where the pair were stopping made inquiry as to the cause of +the banging and the crying, and, on learning the story of the trouble, actually +presented Umégaë with three hundred <i>ryō</i> (3) in gold. Afterwards a song +was made about Umégaë’s basin of bronze; and that song is sung by dancing +girls even to this day:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Umégaë no chōzubachi tataïté<br/> +O-kané ga déru naraba<br/> +Mina San mi-uké wo<br/> +Sōré tanomimasu +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[“<i>If, by striking upon the wash-basin of Umégaë, I could make +honorable money come to me, then would I negotiate for the freedom of all my +girl-comrades.</i>”] +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +After this happening, the fame of the Mugen-Kané became great; and many people +followed the example of Umégaë,—thereby hoping to emulate her luck. Among +these folk was a dissolute farmer who lived near Mugenyama, on the bank of the +Ōïgawa. Having wasted his substance in riotous living, this farmer made for +himself, out of the mud in his garden, a clay-model of the Mugen-Kané; and he +beat the clay-bell, and broke it,—crying out the while for great wealth. +</p> + +<p> +Then, out of the ground before him, rose up the figure of a white-robed woman, +with long loose-flowing hair, holding a covered jar. And the woman said: +“I have come to answer your fervent prayer as it deserves to be answered. +Take, therefore, this jar.” So saying, she put the jar into his hands, +and disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +Into his house the happy man rushed, to tell his wife the good news. He set +down in front of her the covered jar,—which was heavy,—and they +opened it together. And they found that it was filled, up to the very brim, +with... +</p> + +<p> +But no!—I really cannot tell you with what it was filled. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>JIKININKI</h2> + +<p> +Once, when Musō Kokushi, a priest of the Zen sect, was journeying alone through +the province of Mino (1), he lost his way in a mountain-district where there +was nobody to direct him. For a long time he wandered about helplessly; and he +was beginning to despair of finding shelter for the night, when he perceived, +on the top of a hill lighted by the last rays of the sun, one of those little +hermitages, called <i>anjitsu</i>, which are built for solitary priests. It +seemed to be in ruinous condition; but he hastened to it eagerly, and found +that it was inhabited by an aged priest, from whom he begged the favor of a +night’s lodging. This the old man harshly refused; but he directed Musō +to a certain hamlet, in the valley adjoining where lodging and food could be +obtained. +</p> + +<p> +Musō found his way to the hamlet, which consisted of less than a dozen +farm-cottages; and he was kindly received at the dwelling of the headman. Forty +or fifty persons were assembled in the principal apartment, at the moment of +Musō’s arrival; but he was shown into a small separate room, where he was +promptly supplied with food and bedding. Being very tired, he lay down to rest +at an early hour; but a little before midnight he was roused from sleep by a +sound of loud weeping in the next apartment. Presently the sliding-screens were +gently pushed apart; and a young man, carrying a lighted lantern, entered the +room, respectfully saluted him, and said:— +</p> + +<p> +“Reverend Sir, it is my painful duty to tell you that I am now the +responsible head of this house. Yesterday I was only the eldest son. But when +you came here, tired as you were, we did not wish that you should feel +embarrassed in any way: therefore we did not tell you that father had died only +a few hours before. The people whom you saw in the next room are the +inhabitants of this village: they all assembled here to pay their last respects +to the dead; and now they are going to another village, about three miles +off,—for by our custom, no one of us may remain in this village during +the night after a death has taken place. We make the proper offerings and +prayers;—then we go away, leaving the corpse alone. Strange things always +happen in the house where a corpse has thus been left: so we think that it will +be better for you to come away with us. We can find you good lodging in the +other village. But perhaps, as you are a priest, you have no fear of demons or +evil spirits; and, if you are not afraid of being left alone with the body, you +will be very welcome to the use of this poor house. However, I must tell you +that nobody, except a priest, would dare to remain here tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +Musō made answer:— +</p> + +<p> +“For your kind intention and your generous hospitality, I am deeply +grateful. But I am sorry that you did not tell me of your father’s death +when I came;—for, though I was a little tired, I certainly was not so +tired that I should have found difficulty in doing my duty as a priest. Had you +told me, I could have performed the service before your departure. As it is, I +shall perform the service after you have gone away; and I shall stay by the +body until morning. I do not know what you mean by your words about the danger +of staying here alone; but I am not afraid of ghosts or demons: therefore +please to feel no anxiety on my account.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man appeared to be rejoiced by these assurances, and expressed his +gratitude in fitting words. Then the other members of the family, and the folk +assembled in the adjoining room, having been told of the priest’s kind +promises, came to thank him,—after which the master of the house +said:— +</p> + +<p> +“Now, reverend Sir, much as we regret to leave you alone, we must bid you +farewell. By the rule of our village, none of us can stay here after midnight. +We beg, kind Sir, that you will take every care of your honorable body, while +we are unable to attend upon you. And if you happen to hear or see anything +strange during our absence, please tell us of the matter when we return in the +morning.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +All then left the house, except the priest, who went to the room where the dead +body was lying. The usual offerings had been set before the corpse; and a small +Buddhist lamp—<i>tōmyō</i>—was burning. The priest recited the +service, and performed the funeral ceremonies,—after which he entered +into meditation. So meditating he remained through several silent hours; and +there was no sound in the deserted village. But, when the hush of the night was +at its deepest, there noiselessly entered a Shape, vague and vast; and in the +same moment Musō found himself without power to move or speak. He saw that +Shape lift the corpse, as with hands, devour it, more quickly than a cat +devours a rat,—beginning at the head, and eating everything: the hair and +the bones and even the shroud. And the monstrous Thing, having thus consumed +the body, turned to the offerings, and ate them also. Then it went away, as +mysteriously as it had come. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +When the villagers returned next morning, they found the priest awaiting them +at the door of the headman’s dwelling. All in turn saluted him; and when +they had entered, and looked about the room, no one expressed any surprise at +the disappearance of the dead body and the offerings. But the master of the +house said to Musō:— +</p> + +<p> +“Reverent Sir, you have probably seen unpleasant things during the night: +all of us were anxious about you. But now we are very happy to find you alive +and unharmed. Gladly we would have stayed with you, if it had been possible. +But the law of our village, as I told you last evening, obliges us to quit our +houses after a death has taken place, and to leave the corpse alone. Whenever +this law has been broken, heretofore, some great misfortune has followed. +Whenever it is obeyed, we find that the corpse and the offerings disappear +during our absence. Perhaps you have seen the cause.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Musō told of the dim and awful Shape that had entered the death-chamber to +devour the body and the offerings. No person seemed to be surprised by his +narration; and the master of the house observed:— +</p> + +<p> +“What you have told us, reverend Sir, agrees with what has been said +about this matter from ancient time.” +</p> + +<p> +Musō then inquired:— +</p> + +<p> +“Does not the priest on the hill sometimes perform the funeral service +for your dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“What priest?” the young man asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The priest who yesterday evening directed me to this village,” +answered Musō. “I called at his <i>anjitsu</i> on the hill yonder. He +refused me lodging, but told me the way here.” +</p> + +<p> +The listeners looked at each other, as in astonishment; and, after a moment of +silence, the master of the house said:— +</p> + +<p> +“Reverend Sir, there is no priest and there is no <i>anjitsu</i> on the +hill. For the time of many generations there has not been any resident-priest +in this neighborhood.” +</p> + +<p> +Musō said nothing more on the subject; for it was evident that his kind hosts +supposed him to have been deluded by some goblin. But after having bidden them +farewell, and obtained all necessary information as to his road, he determined +to look again for the hermitage on the hill, and so to ascertain whether he had +really been deceived. He found the <i>anjitsu</i> without any difficulty; and, +this time, its aged occupant invited him to enter. When he had done so, the +hermit humbly bowed down before him, exclaiming:—“Ah! I am +ashamed!—I am very much ashamed!—I am exceedingly ashamed!” +</p> + +<p> +“You need not be ashamed for having refused me shelter,” said Musō. +“You directed me to the village yonder, where I was very kindly treated; +and I thank you for that favor.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can give no man shelter,” the recluse made +answer;—“and it is not for the refusal that I am ashamed. I am +ashamed only that you should have seen me in my real shape,—for it was I +who devoured the corpse and the offerings last night before your eyes... Know, +reverend Sir, that I am a <i>jikininki</i>,<a href="#fn7.1" +name="fnref7.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a>—an eater of human flesh. Have pity +upon me, and suffer me to confess the secret fault by which I became reduced to +this condition. +</p> + +<p> +“A long, long time ago, I was a priest in this desolate region. There was +no other priest for many leagues around. So, in that time, the bodies of the +mountain-folk who died used to be brought here,—sometimes from great +distances,—in order that I might repeat over them the holy service. But I +repeated the service and performed the rites only as a matter of +business;—I thought only of the food and the clothes that my sacred +profession enabled me to gain. And because of this selfish impiety I was +reborn, immediately after my death, into the state of a <i>jikininki</i>. Since +then I have been obliged to feed upon the corpses of the people who die in this +district: every one of them I must devour in the way that you saw last night... +Now, reverend Sir, let me beseech you to perform a Ségaki-service<a href="#fn7.2" name="fnref7.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> +for me: help me by your prayers, I entreat you, so that I may be soon able to +escape from this horrible state of existence”... +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +No sooner had the hermit uttered this petition than he disappeared; and the +hermitage also disappeared at the same instant. And Musō Kokushi found himself +kneeling alone in the high grass, beside an ancient and moss-grown tomb of the +form called <i>go-rin-ishi</i>,<a href="#fn7.3" name="fnref7.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a> +which seemed to be the tomb of a priest. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>MUJINA</h2> + +<p> +On the Akasaka Road, in Tōkyō, there is a slope called +Kii-no-kuni-zaka,—which means the Slope of the Province of Kii. I do not +know why it is called the Slope of the Province of Kii. On one side of this +slope you see an ancient moat, deep and very wide, with high green banks rising +up to some place of gardens;—and on the other side of the road extend the +long and lofty walls of an imperial palace. Before the era of street-lamps and +jinrikishas, this neighborhood was very lonesome after dark; and belated +pedestrians would go miles out of their way rather than mount the +Kii-no-kuni-zaka, alone, after sunset. +</p> + +<p> +All because of a Mujina that used to walk there. (1) +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +The last man who saw the Mujina was an old merchant of the Kyōbashi quarter, +who died about thirty years ago. This is the story, as he told it:— +</p> + +<p> +One night, at a late hour, he was hurrying up the Kii-no-kuni-zaka, when he +perceived a woman crouching by the moat, all alone, and weeping bitterly. +Fearing that she intended to drown herself, he stopped to offer her any +assistance or consolation in his power. She appeared to be a slight and +graceful person, handsomely dressed; and her hair was arranged like that of a +young girl of good family. “O-jochū,”<a href="#fn8.1" name="fnref8.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +he exclaimed, approaching her,—“O-jochū, do not cry like that!... +Tell me what the trouble is; and if there be any way to help you, I shall be +glad to help you.” (He really meant what he said; for he was a very kind +man.) But she continued to weep,—hiding her face from him with one of her +long sleeves. “O-jochū,” he said again, as gently as he +could,—“please, please listen to me!... This is no place for a +young lady at night! Do not cry, I implore you!—only tell me how I may be +of some help to you!” Slowly she rose up, but turned her back to him, and +continued to moan and sob behind her sleeve. He laid his hand lightly upon her +shoulder, and pleaded:—“O-jochū!—O-jochū!—O-jochū!... +Listen to me, just for one little moment!... O-jochū!—O-jochū!”... +Then that O-jochū turned around, and dropped her sleeve, and stroked her face +with her hand;—and the man saw that she had no eyes or nose or +mouth,—and he screamed and ran away. (2) +</p> + +<p> +Up Kii-no-kuni-zaka he ran and ran; and all was black and empty before him. On +and on he ran, never daring to look back; and at last he saw a lantern, so far +away that it looked like the gleam of a firefly; and he made for it. It proved +to be only the lantern of an itinerant <i>soba</i>-seller,<a href="#fn8.2" name="fnref8.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> +who had set down his stand by the road-side; but any light and any human +companionship was good after that experience; and he flung himself down at the +feet of the <i>soba</i>-seller, crying out, +“Ah!—aa!!—<i>aa!!!</i>”... +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Koré! koré!</i>” (3) roughly exclaimed the soba-man. +“Here! what is the matter with you? Anybody hurt you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No—nobody hurt me,” panted the other,—“only... +<i>Ah!—aa!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“—Only scared you?” queried the peddler, unsympathetically. +“Robbers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not robbers,—not robbers,” gasped the terrified man... +“I saw... I saw a woman—by the moat;—and she showed me... +<i>Ah!</i> I cannot tell you what she showed me!”... +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Hé!</i> (4) Was it anything like <small>THIS</small> that she showed +you?” cried the soba-man, stroking his own face—which therewith +became like unto an Egg... And, simultaneously, the light went out. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>ROKURO-KUBI</h2> + +<p> +Nearly five hundred years ago there was a samurai, named Isogai Héïdazaëmon +Takétsura, in the service of the Lord Kikuji, of Kyūshū. This Isogai had +inherited, from many warlike ancestors, a natural aptitude for military +exercises, and extraordinary strength. While yet a boy he had surpassed his +teachers in the art of swordsmanship, in archery, and in the use of the spear, +and had displayed all the capacities of a daring and skillful soldier. +Afterwards, in the time of the Eikyō<a href="#fn9.1" name="fnref9.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +war, he so distinguished himself that high honors were bestowed upon him. But +when the house of Kikuji came to ruin, Isogai found himself without a master. +He might then easily have obtained service under another daimyō; but as he had +never sought distinction for his own sake alone, and as his heart remained true +to his former lord, he preferred to give up the world. So he cut off his hair, +and became a traveling priest,—taking the Buddhist name of Kwairyō. +</p> + +<p> +But always, under the <i>koromo</i><a href="#fn9.2" name="fnref9.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> +of the priest, Kwairyō kept warm within him the heart of the samurai. As in +other years he had laughed at peril, so now also he scorned danger; and in all +weathers and all seasons he journeyed to preach the good Law in places where no +other priest would have dared to go. For that age was an age of violence and +disorder; and upon the highways there was no security for the solitary +traveler, even if he happened to be a priest. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +In the course of his first long journey, Kwairyō had occasion to visit the +province of Kai. (1) One evening, as he was traveling through the mountains of +that province, darkness overcame him in a very lonesome district, leagues away +from any village. So he resigned himself to pass the night under the stars; and +having found a suitable grassy spot, by the roadside, he lay down there, and +prepared to sleep. He had always welcomed discomfort; and even a bare rock was +for him a good bed, when nothing better could be found, and the root of a +pine-tree an excellent pillow. His body was iron; and he never troubled himself +about dews or rain or frost or snow. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had he lain down when a man came along the road, carrying an axe and a +great bundle of chopped wood. This woodcutter halted on seeing Kwairyō lying +down, and, after a moment of silent observation, said to him in a tone of great +surprise:— +</p> + +<p> +“What kind of a man can you be, good Sir, that you dare to lie down alone +in such a place as this?... There are haunters about here,—many of them. +Are you not afraid of Hairy Things?” +</p> + +<p> +“My friend,” cheerfully answered Kwairyō, “I am only a +wandering priest,—a ‘Cloud-and-Water-Guest,’ as folks call +it: <i>Unsui-no-ryokaku</i>. (2) And I am not in the least afraid of Hairy +Things,—if you mean goblin-foxes, or goblin-badgers, or any creatures of +that kind. As for lonesome places, I like them: they are suitable for +meditation. I am accustomed to sleeping in the open air: and I have learned +never to be anxious about my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must be indeed a brave man, Sir Priest,” the peasant +responded, “to lie down here! This place has a bad name,—a very bad +name. But, as the proverb has it, <i>Kunshi ayayuki ni chikayorazu</i> +[‘The superior man does not needlessly expose himself to peril’]; +and I must assure you, Sir, that it is very dangerous to sleep here. Therefore, +although my house is only a wretched thatched hut, let me beg of you to come +home with me at once. In the way of food, I have nothing to offer you; but +there is a roof at least, and you can sleep under it without risk.” +</p> + +<p> +He spoke earnestly; and Kwairyō, liking the kindly tone of the man, accepted +this modest offer. The woodcutter guided him along a narrow path, leading up +from the main road through mountain-forest. It was a rough and dangerous +path,—sometimes skirting precipices,—sometimes offering nothing but +a network of slippery roots for the foot to rest upon,—sometimes winding +over or between masses of jagged rock. But at last Kwairyō found himself upon a +cleared space at the top of a hill, with a full moon shining overhead; and he +saw before him a small thatched cottage, cheerfully lighted from within. The +woodcutter led him to a shed at the back of the house, whither water had been +conducted, through bamboo-pipes, from some neighboring stream; and the two men +washed their feet. Beyond the shed was a vegetable garden, and a grove of +cedars and bamboos; and beyond the trees appeared the glimmer of a cascade, +pouring from some loftier height, and swaying in the moonshine like a long +white robe. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +As Kwairyō entered the cottage with his guide, he perceived four +persons—men and women—warming their hands at a little fire kindled +in the <i>ro</i><a href="#fn9.3" name="fnref9.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a> of the +principle apartment. They bowed low to the priest, and greeted him in the most +respectful manner. Kwairyō wondered that persons so poor, and dwelling in such +a solitude, should be aware of the polite forms of greeting. “These are +good people,” he thought to himself; “and they must have been +taught by some one well acquainted with the rules of propriety.” Then +turning to his host,—the <i>aruji</i>, or house-master, as the others +called him,—Kwairyō said:— +</p> + +<p> +“From the kindness of your speech, and from the very polite welcome given +me by your household, I imagine that you have not always been a woodcutter. +Perhaps you formerly belonged to one of the upper classes?” +</p> + +<p> +Smiling, the woodcutter answered:— +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, you are not mistaken. Though now living as you find me, I was once +a person of some distinction. My story is the story of a ruined +life—ruined by my own fault. I used to be in the service of a daimyō; and +my rank in that service was not inconsiderable. But I loved women and wine too +well; and under the influence of passion I acted wickedly. My selfishness +brought about the ruin of our house, and caused the death of many persons. +Retribution followed me; and I long remained a fugitive in the land. Now I +often pray that I may be able to make some atonement for the evil which I did, +and to reestablish the ancestral home. But I fear that I shall never find any +way of so doing. Nevertheless, I try to overcome the karma of my errors by +sincere repentance, and by helping, as far as I can, those who are +unfortunate.” +</p> + +<p> +Kwairyō was pleased by this announcement of good resolve; and he said to the +<i>aruji:</i>— +</p> + +<p> +“My friend, I have had occasion to observe that men, prone to folly in +their youth, may in after years become very earnest in right living. In the +holy sûtras it is written that those strongest in wrong-doing can become, by +power of good resolve, the strongest in right-doing. I do not doubt that you +have a good heart; and I hope that better fortune will come to you. To-night I +shall recite the sûtras for your sake, and pray that you may obtain the force +to overcome the karma of any past errors.” +</p> + +<p> +With these assurances, Kwairyō bade the <i>aruji</i> good-night; and his host +showed him to a very small side-room, where a bed had been made ready. Then all +went to sleep except the priest, who began to read the sûtras by the light of a +paper lantern. Until a late hour he continued to read and pray: then he opened +a little window in his little sleeping-room, to take a last look at the +landscape before lying down. The night was beautiful: there was no cloud in the +sky: there was no wind; and the strong moonlight threw down sharp black shadows +of foliage, and glittered on the dews of the garden. Shrillings of crickets and +bell-insects (3) made a musical tumult; and the sound of the neighboring +cascade deepened with the night. Kwairyō felt thirsty as he listened to the +noise of the water; and, remembering the bamboo aqueduct at the rear of the +house, he thought that he could go there and get a drink without disturbing the +sleeping household. Very gently he pushed apart the sliding-screens that +separated his room from the main apartment; and he saw, by the light of the +lantern, five recumbent bodies—without heads! +</p> + +<p> +For one instant he stood bewildered,—imagining a crime. But in another +moment he perceived that there was no blood, and that the headless necks did +not look as if they had been cut. Then he thought to +himself:—“Either this is an illusion made by goblins, or I have +been lured into the dwelling of a Rokuro-Kubi... (4) In the book +<i>Sōshinki</i> (5) it is written that if one find the body of a Rokuro-Kubi +without its head, and remove the body to another place, the head will never be +able to join itself again to the neck. And the book further says that when the +head comes back and finds that its body has been moved, it will strike itself +upon the floor three times,—bounding like a ball,—and will pant as +in great fear, and presently die. Now, if these be Rokuro-Kubi, they mean me no +good;—so I shall be justified in following the instructions of the +book.”... +</p> + +<p> +He seized the body of the aruji by the feet, pulled it to the window, and +pushed it out. Then he went to the back-door, which he found barred; and he +surmised that the heads had made their exit through the smoke-hole in the roof, +which had been left open. Gently unbarring the door, he made his way to the +garden, and proceeded with all possible caution to the grove beyond it. He +heard voices talking in the grove; and he went in the direction of the +voices,—stealing from shadow to shadow, until he reached a good +hiding-place. Then, from behind a trunk, he caught sight of the +heads,—all five of them,—flitting about, and chatting as they +flitted. They were eating worms and insects which they found on the ground or +among the trees. Presently the head of the aruji stopped eating and +said:— +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, that traveling priest who came to-night!—how fat all his body +is! When we shall have eaten him, our bellies will be well filled... I was +foolish to talk to him as I did;—it only set him to reciting the sûtras +on behalf of my soul! To go near him while he is reciting would be difficult; +and we cannot touch him so long as he is praying. But as it is now nearly +morning, perhaps he has gone to sleep... Some one of you go to the house and +see what the fellow is doing.” +</p> + +<p> +Another head—the head of a young woman—immediately rose up and +flitted to the house, lightly as a bat. After a few minutes it came back, and +cried out huskily, in a tone of great alarm:— +</p> + +<p> +“That traveling priest is not in the house;—he is gone! But that is +not the worst of the matter. He has taken the body of our aruji; and I do not +know where he has put it.” +</p> + +<p> +At this announcement the head of the aruji—distinctly visible in the +moonlight—assumed a frightful aspect: its eyes opened monstrously; its +hair stood up bristling; and its teeth gnashed. Then a cry burst from its lips; +and—weeping tears of rage—it exclaimed:— +</p> + +<p> +“Since my body has been moved, to rejoin it is not possible! Then I must +die!... And all through the work of that priest! Before I die I will get at +that priest!—I will tear him!—I will devour him!... <i>And there he +is</i>—behind that tree!—hiding behind that tree! See +him!—the fat coward!”... +</p> + +<p> +In the same moment the head of the aruji, followed by the other four heads, +sprang at Kwairyō. But the strong priest had already armed himself by plucking +up a young tree; and with that tree he struck the heads as they +came,—knocking them from him with tremendous blows. Four of them fled +away. But the head of the aruji, though battered again and again, desperately +continued to bound at the priest, and at last caught him by the left sleeve of +his robe. Kwairyō, however, as quickly gripped the head by its topknot, and +repeatedly struck it. It did not release its hold; but it uttered a long moan, +and thereafter ceased to struggle. It was dead. But its teeth still held the +sleeve; and, for all his great strength, Kwairyō could not force open the jaws. +</p> + +<p> +With the head still hanging to his sleeve he went back to the house, and there +caught sight of the other four Rokuro-Kubi squatting together, with their +bruised and bleeding heads reunited to their bodies. But when they perceived +him at the back-door all screamed, “The priest! the +priest!”—and fled, through the other doorway, out into the woods. +</p> + +<p> +Eastward the sky was brightening; day was about to dawn; and Kwairyō knew that +the power of the goblins was limited to the hours of darkness. He looked at the +head clinging to his sleeve,—its face all fouled with blood and foam and +clay; and he laughed aloud as he thought to himself: “What a +<i>miyagé!</i><a href="#fn9.4" name="fnref9.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a>—the +head of a goblin!” After which he gathered together his few belongings, +and leisurely descended the mountain to continue his journey. +</p> + +<p> +Right on he journeyed, until he came to Suwa in Shinano; (6) and into the main +street of Suwa he solemnly strode, with the head dangling at his elbow. Then +woman fainted, and children screamed and ran away; and there was a great +crowding and clamoring until the <i>torité</i> (as the police in those days +were called) seized the priest, and took him to jail. For they supposed the +head to be the head of a murdered man who, in the moment of being killed, had +caught the murderer’s sleeve in his teeth. As for Kwairyō, he only smiled +and said nothing when they questioned him. So, after having passed a night in +prison, he was brought before the magistrates of the district. Then he was +ordered to explain how he, a priest, had been found with the head of a man +fastened to his sleeve, and why he had dared thus shamelessly to parade his +crime in the sight of people. +</p> + +<p> +Kwairyō laughed long and loudly at these questions; and then he said:— +</p> + +<p> +“Sirs, I did not fasten the head to my sleeve: it fastened itself +there—much against my will. And I have not committed any crime. For this +is not the head of a man; it is the head of a goblin;—and, if I caused +the death of the goblin, I did not do so by any shedding of blood, but simply +by taking the precautions necessary to assure my own safety.”... And he +proceeded to relate the whole of the adventure,—bursting into another +hearty laugh as he told of his encounter with the five heads. +</p> + +<p> +But the magistrates did not laugh. They judged him to be a hardened criminal, +and his story an insult to their intelligence. Therefore, without further +questioning, they decided to order his immediate execution,—all of them +except one, a very old man. This aged officer had made no remark during the +trial; but, after having heard the opinion of his colleagues, he rose up, and +said:— +</p> + +<p> +“Let us first examine the head carefully; for this, I think, has not yet +been done. If the priest has spoken truth, the head itself should bear witness +for him... Bring the head here!” +</p> + +<p> +So the head, still holding in its teeth the <i>koromo</i> that had been +stripped from Kwairyō’s shoulders, was put before the judges. The old man +turned it round and round, carefully examined it, and discovered, on the nape +of its neck, several strange red characters. He called the attention of his +colleagues to these, and also bade them observe that the edges of the neck +nowhere presented the appearance of having been cut by any weapon. On the +contrary, the line of leverance was smooth as the line at which a falling leaf +detaches itself from the stem... Then said the elder:— +</p> + +<p> +“I am quite sure that the priest told us nothing but the truth. This is +the head of a Rokuro-Kubi. In the book <i>Nan-hō-ï-butsu-shi</i> it is written +that certain red characters can always be found upon the nape of the neck of a +real Rokuro-Kubi. There are the characters: you can see for yourselves that +they have not been painted. Moreover, it is well known that such goblins have +been dwelling in the mountains of the province of Kai from very ancient time... +But you, Sir,” he exclaimed, turning to Kwairyō,—“what sort +of sturdy priest may you be? Certainly you have given proof of a courage that +few priests possess; and you have the air of a soldier rather than a priest. +Perhaps you once belonged to the samurai-class?” +</p> + +<p> +“You have guessed rightly, Sir,” Kwairyō responded. “Before +becoming a priest, I long followed the profession of arms; and in those days I +never feared man or devil. My name then was Isogai Héïdazaëmon Takétsura of +Kyūshū: there may be some among you who remember it.” +</p> + +<p> +At the mention of that name, a murmur of admiration filled the court-room; for +there were many present who remembered it. And Kwairyō immediately found +himself among friends instead of judges,—friends anxious to prove their +admiration by fraternal kindness. With honor they escorted him to the residence +of the daimyō, who welcomed him, and feasted him, and made him a handsome +present before allowing him to depart. When Kwairyō left Suwa, he was as happy +as any priest is permitted to be in this transitory world. As for the head, he +took it with him,—jocosely insisting that he intended it for a +<i>miyagé</i>. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +And now it only remains to tell what became of the head. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +A day or two after leaving Suwa, Kwairyō met with a robber, who stopped him in +a lonesome place, and bade him strip. Kwairyō at once removed his +<i>koromo</i>, and offered it to the robber, who then first perceived what was +hanging to the sleeve. Though brave, the highwayman was startled: he dropped +the garment, and sprang back. Then he cried out:—“You!—what +kind of a priest are you? Why, you are a worse man than I am! It is true that I +have killed people; but I never walked about with anybody’s head fastened +to my sleeve... Well, Sir priest, I suppose we are of the same calling; and I +must say that I admire you!... Now that head would be of use to me: I could +frighten people with it. Will you sell it? You can have my robe in exchange for +your <i>koromo;</i> and I will give you five <i>ryō</i> for the head.” +</p> + +<p> +Kwairyō answered:— +</p> + +<p> +“I shall let you have the head and the robe if you insist; but I must +tell you that this is not the head of a man. It is a goblin’s head. So, +if you buy it, and have any trouble in consequence, please to remember that you +were not deceived by me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a nice priest you are!” exclaimed the robber. “You kill +men, and jest about it!... But I am really in earnest. Here is my robe; and +here is the money;—and let me have the head... What is the use of +joking?” +</p> + +<p> +“Take the thing,” said Kwairyō. “I was not joking. The only +joke—if there be any joke at all—is that you are fool enough to pay +good money for a goblin’s head.” And Kwairyō, loudly laughing, went +upon his way. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Thus the robber got the head and the <i>koromo;</i> and for some time he played +goblin-priest upon the highways. But, reaching the neighborhood of Suwa, he +there leaned the true story of the head; and he then became afraid that the +spirit of the Rokuro-Kubi might give him trouble. So he made up his mind to +take back the head to the place from which it had come, and to bury it with its +body. He found his way to the lonely cottage in the mountains of Kai; but +nobody was there, and he could not discover the body. Therefore he buried the +head by itself, in the grove behind the cottage; and he had a tombstone set up +over the grave; and he caused a Ségaki-service to be performed on behalf of the +spirit of the Rokuro-Kubi. And that tombstone—known as the Tombstone of +the Rokuro-Kubi—may be seen (at least so the Japanese story-teller +declares) even unto this day. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>A DEAD SECRET</h2> + +<p> +A long time ago, in the province of Tamba (1), there lived a rich merchant +named Inamuraya Gensuké. He had a daughter called O-Sono. As she was very +clever and pretty, he thought it would be a pity to let her grow up with only +such teaching as the country-teachers could give her: so he sent her, in care +of some trusty attendants, to Kyōto, that she might be trained in the polite +accomplishments taught to the ladies of the capital. After she had thus been +educated, she was married to a friend of her father’s family—a +merchant named Nagaraya;—and she lived happily with him for nearly four +years. They had one child,—a boy. But O-Sono fell ill and died, in the +fourth year after her marriage. +</p> + +<p> +On the night after the funeral of O-Sono, her little son said that his mamma +had come back, and was in the room upstairs. She had smiled at him, but would +not talk to him: so he became afraid, and ran away. Then some of the family +went upstairs to the room which had been O-Sono’s; and they were startled +to see, by the light of a small lamp which had been kindled before a shrine in +that room, the figure of the dead mother. She appeared as if standing in front +of a <i>tansu</i>, or chest of drawers, that still contained her ornaments and +her wearing-apparel. Her head and shoulders could be very distinctly seen; but +from the waist downwards the figure thinned into invisibility;—it was +like an imperfect reflection of her, and transparent as a shadow on water. +</p> + +<p> +Then the folk were afraid, and left the room. Below they consulted together; +and the mother of O-Sono’s husband said: “A woman is fond of her +small things; and O-Sono was much attached to her belongings. Perhaps she has +come back to look at them. Many dead persons will do that,—unless the +things be given to the parish-temple. If we present O-Sono’s robes and +girdles to the temple, her spirit will probably find rest.” +</p> + +<p> +It was agreed that this should be done as soon as possible. So on the following +morning the drawers were emptied; and all of O-Sono’s ornaments and +dresses were taken to the temple. But she came back the next night, and looked +at the <i>tansu</i> as before. And she came back also on the night following, +and the night after that, and every night;—and the house became a house +of fear. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +The mother of O-Sono’s husband then went to the parish-temple, and told +the chief priest all that had happened, and asked for ghostly counsel. The +temple was a Zen temple; and the head-priest was a learned old man, known as +Daigen Oshō. He said: “There must be something about which she is +anxious, in or near that <i>tansu</i>.”—“But we emptied all +the drawers,” replied the woman;—“there is nothing in the +<i>tansu</i>.”—“Well,” said Daigen Oshō, +“to-night I shall go to your house, and keep watch in that room, and see +what can be done. You must give orders that no person shall enter the room +while I am watching, unless I call.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +After sundown, Daigen Oshō went to the house, and found the room made ready for +him. He remained there alone, reading the sûtras; and nothing appeared until +after the Hour of the Rat.<a href="#fn10.1" name="fnref10.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +Then the figure of O-Sono suddenly outlined itself in front of the +<i>tansu</i>. Her face had a wistful look; and she kept her eyes fixed upon the +<i>tansu</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The priest uttered the holy formula prescribed in such cases, and then, +addressing the figure by the <i>kaimyō</i><a href="#fn10.2" name="fnref10.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> +of O-Sono, said:—“I have come here in order to help you. Perhaps in +that <i>tansu</i> there is something about which you have reason to feel +anxious. Shall I try to find it for you?” The shadow appeared to give +assent by a slight motion of the head; and the priest, rising, opened the top +drawer. It was empty. Successively he opened the second, the third, and the +fourth drawer;—he searched carefully behind them and beneath +them;—he carefully examined the interior of the chest. He found nothing. +But the figure remained gazing as wistfully as before. “What can she +want?” thought the priest. Suddenly it occurred to him that there might +be something hidden under the paper with which the drawers were lined. He +removed the lining of the first drawer:—nothing! He removed the lining of +the second and third drawers:—still nothing. But under the lining of the +lowermost drawer he found—a letter. “Is this the thing about which +you have been troubled?” he asked. The shadow of the woman turned toward +him,—her faint gaze fixed upon the letter. “Shall I burn it for +you?” he asked. She bowed before him. “It shall be burned in the +temple this very morning,” he promised;—“and no one shall +read it, except myself.” The figure smiled and vanished. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Dawn was breaking as the priest descended the stairs, to find the family +waiting anxiously below. “Do not be anxious,” he said to them: +“She will not appear again.” And she never did. +</p> + +<p> +The letter was burned. It was a love-letter written to O-Sono in the time of +her studies at Kyōto. But the priest alone knew what was in it; and the secret +died with him. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>YUKI-ONNA</h2> + +<p> +In a village of Musashi Province (1), there lived two woodcutters: Mosaku and +Minokichi. At the time of which I am speaking, Mosaku was an old man; and +Minokichi, his apprentice, was a lad of eighteen years. Every day they went +together to a forest situated about five miles from their village. On the way +to that forest there is a wide river to cross; and there is a ferry-boat. +Several times a bridge was built where the ferry is; but the bridge was each +time carried away by a flood. No common bridge can resist the current there +when the river rises. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Mosaku and Minokichi were on their way home, one very cold evening, when a +great snowstorm overtook them. They reached the ferry; and they found that the +boatman had gone away, leaving his boat on the other side of the river. It was +no day for swimming; and the woodcutters took shelter in the ferryman’s +hut,—thinking themselves lucky to find any shelter at all. There was no +brazier in the hut, nor any place in which to make a fire: it was only a +two-mat<a href="#fn11.1" name="fnref11.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> hut, with a single +door, but no window. Mosaku and Minokichi fastened the door, and lay down to +rest, with their straw rain-coats over them. At first they did not feel very +cold; and they thought that the storm would soon be over. +</p> + +<p> +The old man almost immediately fell asleep; but the boy, Minokichi, lay awake a +long time, listening to the awful wind, and the continual slashing of the snow +against the door. The river was roaring; and the hut swayed and creaked like a +junk at sea. It was a terrible storm; and the air was every moment becoming +colder; and Minokichi shivered under his rain-coat. But at last, in spite of +the cold, he too fell asleep. +</p> + +<p> +He was awakened by a showering of snow in his face. The door of the hut had +been forced open; and, by the snow-light (<i>yuki-akari</i>), he saw a woman in +the room,—a woman all in white. She was bending above Mosaku, and blowing +her breath upon him;—and her breath was like a bright white smoke. Almost +in the same moment she turned to Minokichi, and stooped over him. He tried to +cry out, but found that he could not utter any sound. The white woman bent down +over him, lower and lower, until her face almost touched him; and he saw that +she was very beautiful,—though her eyes made him afraid. For a little +time she continued to look at him;—then she smiled, and she +whispered:—“I intended to treat you like the other man. But I +cannot help feeling some pity for you,—because you are so young... You +are a pretty boy, Minokichi; and I will not hurt you now. But, if you ever tell +anybody—even your own mother—about what you have seen this night, I +shall know it; and then I will kill you... Remember what I say!” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus01"></a> +<img src="images/img01.jpg" width="515" height="600" alt="[Illustration]" /> +<p class="caption"><small>BLOWING HER BREATH UPON HIM</small></p> +</div> + +<p> +With these words, she turned from him, and passed through the doorway. Then he +found himself able to move; and he sprang up, and looked out. But the woman was +nowhere to be seen; and the snow was driving furiously into the hut. Minokichi +closed the door, and secured it by fixing several billets of wood against it. +He wondered if the wind had blown it open;—he thought that he might have +been only dreaming, and might have mistaken the gleam of the snow-light in the +doorway for the figure of a white woman: but he could not be sure. He called to +Mosaku, and was frightened because the old man did not answer. He put out his +hand in the dark, and touched Mosaku’s face, and found that it was ice! +Mosaku was stark and dead... +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +By dawn the storm was over; and when the ferryman returned to his station, a +little after sunrise, he found Minokichi lying senseless beside the frozen body +of Mosaku. Minokichi was promptly cared for, and soon came to himself; but he +remained a long time ill from the effects of the cold of that terrible night. +He had been greatly frightened also by the old man’s death; but he said +nothing about the vision of the woman in white. As soon as he got well again, +he returned to his calling,—going alone every morning to the forest, and +coming back at nightfall with his bundles of wood, which his mother helped him +to sell. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +One evening, in the winter of the following year, as he was on his way home, he +overtook a girl who happened to be traveling by the same road. She was a tall, +slim girl, very good-looking; and she answered Minokichi’s greeting in a +voice as pleasant to the ear as the voice of a song-bird. Then he walked beside +her; and they began to talk. The girl said that her name was O-Yuki;<a href="#fn11.2" name="fnref11.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> +that she had lately lost both of her parents; and that she was going to Yedo +(2), where she happened to have some poor relations, who might help her to find +a situation as a servant. Minokichi soon felt charmed by this strange girl; and +the more that he looked at her, the handsomer she appeared to be. He asked her +whether she was yet betrothed; and she answered, laughingly, that she was free. +Then, in her turn, she asked Minokichi whether he was married, or pledged to +marry; and he told her that, although he had only a widowed mother to support, +the question of an “honorable daughter-in-law” had not yet been +considered, as he was very young... After these confidences, they walked on for +a long while without speaking; but, as the proverb declares, <i>Ki ga aréba, mé +mo kuchi hodo ni mono wo iu:</i> “When the wish is there, the eyes can +say as much as the mouth.” By the time they reached the village, they had +become very much pleased with each other; and then Minokichi asked O-Yuki to +rest awhile at his house. After some shy hesitation, she went there with him; +and his mother made her welcome, and prepared a warm meal for her. O-Yuki +behaved so nicely that Minokichi’s mother took a sudden fancy to her, and +persuaded her to delay her journey to Yedo. And the natural end of the matter +was that Yuki never went to Yedo at all. She remained in the house, as an +“honorable daughter-in-law.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +O-Yuki proved a very good daughter-in-law. When Minokichi’s mother came +to die,—some five years later,—her last words were words of +affection and praise for the wife of her son. And O-Yuki bore Minokichi ten +children, boys and girls,—handsome children all of them, and very fair of +skin. +</p> + +<p> +The country-folk thought O-Yuki a wonderful person, by nature different from +themselves. Most of the peasant-women age early; but O-Yuki, even after having +become the mother of ten children, looked as young and fresh as on the day when +she had first come to the village. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +One night, after the children had gone to sleep, O-Yuki was sewing by the light +of a paper lamp; and Minokichi, watching her, said:— +</p> + +<p> +“To see you sewing there, with the light on your face, makes me think of +a strange thing that happened when I was a lad of eighteen. I then saw somebody +as beautiful and white as you are now—indeed, she was very like +you.”... +</p> + +<p> +Without lifting her eyes from her work, O-Yuki responded:— +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me about her... Where did you see her?” +</p> + +<p> +Then Minokichi told her about the terrible night in the ferryman’s +hut,—and about the White Woman that had stooped above him, smiling and +whispering,—and about the silent death of old Mosaku. And he said:— +</p> + +<p> +“Asleep or awake, that was the only time that I saw a being as beautiful +as you. Of course, she was not a human being; and I was afraid of +her,—very much afraid,—but she was so white!... Indeed, I have +never been sure whether it was a dream that I saw, or the Woman of the +Snow.”... +</p> + +<p> +O-Yuki flung down her sewing, and arose, and bowed above Minokichi where he +sat, and shrieked into his face:— +</p> + +<p> +“It was I—I—I! Yuki it was! And I told you then that I would +kill you if you ever said one word about it!... But for those children asleep +there, I would kill you this moment! And now you had better take very, very +good care of them; for if ever they have reason to complain of you, I will +treat you as you deserve!”... +</p> + +<p> +Even as she screamed, her voice became thin, like a crying of wind;—then +she melted into a bright white mist that spired to the roof-beams, and +shuddered away through the smoke-hole.... Never again was she seen. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>THE STORY OF AOYAGI</h2> + +<p> +In the era of Bummei [1469-1486] there was a young samurai called Tomotada in +the service of Hatakéyama Yoshimuné, the Lord of Noto (1). Tomotada was a +native of Echizen (2); but at an early age he had been taken, as page, into the +palace of the daimyō of Noto, and had been educated, under the supervision of +that prince, for the profession of arms. As he grew up, he proved himself both +a good scholar and a good soldier, and continued to enjoy the favor of his +prince. Being gifted with an amiable character, a winning address, and a very +handsome person, he was admired and much liked by his samurai-comrades. +</p> + +<p> +When Tomotada was about twenty years old, he was sent upon a private mission to +Hosokawa Masamoto, the great daimyō of Kyōto, a kinsman of Hatakéyama +Yoshimuné. Having been ordered to journey through Echizen, the youth requested +and obtained permission to pay a visit, on the way, to his widowed mother. +</p> + +<p> +It was the coldest period of the year when he started; and, though mounted upon +a powerful horse, he found himself obliged to proceed slowly. The road which he +followed passed through a mountain-district where the settlements were few and +far between; and on the second day of his journey, after a weary ride of hours, +he was dismayed to find that he could not reach his intended halting-place +until late in the night. He had reason to be anxious;—for a heavy +snowstorm came on, with an intensely cold wind; and the horse showed signs of +exhaustion. But in that trying moment, Tomotada unexpectedly perceived the +thatched room of a cottage on the summit of a near hill, where willow-trees +were growing. With difficulty he urged his tired animal to the dwelling; and he +loudly knocked upon the storm-doors, which had been closed against the wind. An +old woman opened them, and cried out compassionately at the sight of the +handsome stranger: “Ah, how pitiful!—a young gentleman traveling +alone in such weather!... Deign, young master, to enter.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Tomotada dismounted, and after leading his horse to a shed in the rear, entered +the cottage, where he saw an old man and a girl warming themselves by a fire of +bamboo splints. They respectfully invited him to approach the fire; and the old +folks then proceeded to warm some rice-wine, and to prepare food for the +traveler, whom they ventured to question in regard to his journey. Meanwhile +the young girl disappeared behind a screen. Tomotada had observed, with +astonishment, that she was extremely beautiful,—though her attire was of +the most wretched kind, and her long, loose hair in disorder. He wondered that +so handsome a girl should be living in such a miserable and lonesome place. +</p> + +<p> +The old man said to him:— +</p> + +<p> +“Honored Sir, the next village is far; and the snow is falling thickly. +The wind is piercing; and the road is very bad. Therefore, to proceed further +this night would probably be dangerous. Although this hovel is unworthy of your +presence, and although we have not any comfort to offer, perhaps it were safer +to remain to-night under this miserable roof... We would take good care of your +horse.” +</p> + +<p> +Tomotada accepted this humble proposal,—secretly glad of the chance thus +afforded him to see more of the young girl. Presently a coarse but ample meal +was set before him; and the girl came from behind the screen, to serve the +wine. She was now reclad, in a rough but cleanly robe of homespun; and her +long, loose hair had been neatly combed and smoothed. As she bent forward to +fill his cup, Tomotada was amazed to perceive that she was incomparably more +beautiful than any woman whom he had ever before seen; and there was a grace +about her every motion that astonished him. But the elders began to apologize +for her, saying: “Sir, our daughter, Aoyagi,<a href="#fn12.1" name="fnref12.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +has been brought up here in the mountains, almost alone; and she knows nothing +of gentle service. We pray that you will pardon her stupidity and her +ignorance.” Tomotada protested that he deemed himself lucky to be waited +upon by so comely a maiden. He could not turn his eyes away from +her—though he saw that his admiring gaze made her blush;—and he +left the wine and food untasted before him. The mother said: “Kind Sir, +we very much hope that you will try to eat and to drink a little,—though +our peasant-fare is of the worst,—as you must have been chilled by that +piercing wind.” Then, to please the old folks, Tomotada ate and drank as +he could; but the charm of the blushing girl still grew upon him. He talked +with her, and found that her speech was sweet as her face. Brought up in the +mountains as she might have been;—but, in that case, her parents must at +some time been persons of high degree; for she spoke and moved like a damsel of +rank. Suddenly he addressed her with a poem—which was also a +question—inspired by the delight in his heart:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + “Tadzunétsuru,<br/> +Hana ka toté koso,<br/> + Hi wo kurasé,<br/> +Akénu ni otoru<br/> +Akané sasuran?” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[“<i>Being on my way to pay a visit, I found that which I took to be a +flower: therefore here I spend the day... Why, in the time before dawn, the +dawn-blush tint should glow—that, indeed, I know not.</i>”]<a href="#fn12.2" name="fnref12.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +Without a moment’s hesitation, she answered him in these verses:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + “Izuru hi no<br/> +Honoméku iro wo<br/> + Waga sodé ni<br/> +Tsutsumaba asu mo<br/> +Kimiya tomaran.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[“<i>If with my sleeve I hid the faint fair color of the dawning +sun,—then, perhaps, in the morning my lord will remain.</i>”]<a href="#fn12.3" name="fnref12.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +Then Tomotada knew that she accepted his admiration; and he was scarcely less +surprised by the art with which she had uttered her feelings in verse, than +delighted by the assurance which the verses conveyed. He was now certain that +in all this world he could not hope to meet, much less to win, a girl more +beautiful and witty than this rustic maid before him; and a voice in his heart +seemed to cry out urgently, “Take the luck that the gods have put in your +way!” In short he was bewitched—bewitched to such a degree that, +without further preliminary, he asked the old people to give him their daughter +in marriage,—telling them, at the same time, his name and lineage, and +his rank in the train of the Lord of Noto. +</p> + +<p> +They bowed down before him, with many exclamations of grateful astonishment. +But, after some moments of apparent hesitation, the father replied:— +</p> + +<p> +“Honored master, you are a person of high position, and likely to rise to +still higher things. Too great is the favor that you deign to offer +us;—indeed, the depth of our gratitude therefor is not to be spoken or +measured. But this girl of ours, being a stupid country-girl of vulgar birth, +with no training or teaching of any sort, it would be improper to let her +become the wife of a noble samurai. Even to speak of such a matter is not +right... But, since you find the girl to your liking, and have condescended to +pardon her peasant-manners and to overlook her great rudeness, we do gladly +present her to you, for an humble handmaid. Deign, therefore, to act hereafter +in her regard according to your august pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +Ere morning the storm had passed; and day broke through a cloudless east. Even +if the sleeve of Aoyagi hid from her lover’s eyes the rose-blush of that +dawn, he could no longer tarry. But neither could he resign himself to part +with the girl; and, when everything had been prepared for his journey, he thus +addressed her parents:— +</p> + +<p> +“Though it may seem thankless to ask for more than I have already +received, I must again beg you to give me your daughter for wife. It would be +difficult for me to separate from her now; and as she is willing to accompany +me, if you permit, I can take her with me as she is. If you will give her to +me, I shall ever cherish you as parents... And, in the meantime, please to +accept this poor acknowledgment of your kindest hospitality.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, he placed before his humble host a purse of gold <i>ryō</i>. But the +old man, after many prostrations, gently pushed back the gift, and said:— +</p> + +<p> +“Kind master, the gold would be of no use to us; and you will probably +have need of it during your long, cold journey. Here we buy nothing; and we +could not spend so much money upon ourselves, even if we wished... As for the +girl, we have already bestowed her as a free gift;—she belongs to you: +therefore it is not necessary to ask our leave to take her away. Already she +has told us that she hopes to accompany you, and to remain your servant for as +long as you may be willing to endure her presence. We are only too happy to +know that you deign to accept her; and we pray that you will not trouble +yourself on our account. In this place we could not provide her with proper +clothing,—much less with a dowry. Moreover, being old, we should in any +event have to separate from her before long. Therefore it is very fortunate +that you should be willing to take her with you now.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +It was in vain that Tomotada tried to persuade the old people to accept a +present: he found that they cared nothing for money. But he saw that they were +really anxious to trust their daughter’s fate to his hands; and he +therefore decided to take her with him. So he placed her upon his horse, and +bade the old folks farewell for the time being, with many sincere expressions +of gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +“Honored Sir,” the father made answer, “it is we, and not +you, who have reason for gratitude. We are sure that you will be kind to our +girl; and we have no fears for her sake.”... +</p> + +<p> +[<i>Here, in the Japanese original, there is a queer break in the natural +course of the narration, which therefrom remains curiously inconsistent. +Nothing further is said about the mother of Tomotada, or about the parents of +Aoyagi, or about the daimyō of Noto. Evidently the writer wearied of his work +at this point, and hurried the story, very carelessly, to its startling end. I +am not able to supply his omissions, or to repair his faults of construction; +but I must venture to put in a few explanatory details, without which the rest +of the tale would not hold together... It appears that Tomotada rashly took +Aoyagi with him to Kyōto, and so got into trouble; but we are not informed as +to where the couple lived afterwards.</i>] +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +...Now a samurai was not allowed to marry without the consent of his lord; and +Tomotada could not expect to obtain this sanction before his mission had been +accomplished. He had reason, under such circumstances, to fear that the beauty +of Aoyagi might attract dangerous attention, and that means might be devised of +taking her away from him. In Kyōto he therefore tried to keep her hidden from +curious eyes. But a retainer of Lord Hosokawa one day caught sight of Aoyagi, +discovered her relation to Tomotada, and reported the matter to the daimyō. +Thereupon the daimyō—a young prince, and fond of pretty faces—gave +orders that the girl should be brought to the place; and she was taken thither +at once, without ceremony. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Tomotada sorrowed unspeakably; but he knew himself powerless. He was only an +humble messenger in the service of a far-off daimyō; and for the time being he +was at the mercy of a much more powerful daimyō, whose wishes were not to be +questioned. Moreover Tomotada knew that he had acted foolishly,—that he +had brought about his own misfortune, by entering into a clandestine relation +which the code of the military class condemned. There was now but one hope for +him,—a desperate hope: that Aoyagi might be able and willing to escape +and to flee with him. After long reflection, he resolved to try to send her a +letter. The attempt would be dangerous, of course: any writing sent to her +might find its way to the hands of the daimyō; and to send a love-letter to any +inmate of the place was an unpardonable offense. But he resolved to dare the +risk; and, in the form of a Chinese poem, he composed a letter which he +endeavored to have conveyed to her. The poem was written with only twenty-eight +characters. But with those twenty-eight characters he was about to express all +the depth of his passion, and to suggest all the pain of his +loss:—<a href="#fn12.4" name="fnref12.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a><br/> +<br/> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Kōshi ō-son gojin wo ou;<br/> +Ryokuju namida wo tarété rakin wo hitataru;<br/> +Komon hitotabi irité fukaki koto umi no gotoshi;<br/> +Koré yori shorō koré rojin +</p> + +<p> +[<i>Closely, closely the youthful prince now follows after the gem-bright +maid;—<br/> +The tears of the fair one, falling, have moistened all her robes.<br/> +But the august lord, having once become enamored of her—the depth of his +longing is like the depth of the sea.<br/> +Therefore it is only I that am left forlorn,—only I that am left to +wander along.</i>] +</p> + +<p> +On the evening of the day after this poem had been sent, Tomotada was summoned +to appear before the Lord Hosokawa. The youth at once suspected that his +confidence had been betrayed; and he could not hope, if his letter had been +seen by the daimyō, to escape the severest penalty. “Now he will order my +death,” thought Tomotada;—“but I do not care to live unless +Aoyagi be restored to me. Besides, if the death-sentence be passed, I can at +least try to kill Hosokawa.” He slipped his swords into his girdle, and +hastened to the palace. +</p> + +<p> +On entering the presence-room he saw the Lord Hosokawa seated upon the dais, +surrounded by samurai of high rank, in caps and robes of ceremony. All were +silent as statues; and while Tomotada advanced to make obeisance, the hush +seemed to him sinister and heavy, like the stillness before a storm. But +Hosokawa suddenly descended from the dais, and, while taking the youth by the +arm, began to repeat the words of the poem:—“<i>Kōshi ō-son gojin +wo ou</i>.”... And Tomotada, looking up, saw kindly tears in the +prince’s eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Then said Hosokawa:— +</p> + +<p> +“Because you love each other so much, I have taken it upon myself to +authorize your marriage, in lieu of my kinsman, the Lord of Noto; and your +wedding shall now be celebrated before me. The guests are assembled;—the +gifts are ready.” +</p> + +<p> +At a signal from the lord, the sliding-screens concealing a further apartment +were pushed open; and Tomotada saw there many dignitaries of the court, +assembled for the ceremony, and Aoyagi awaiting him in brides’ apparel... +Thus was she given back to him;—and the wedding was joyous and +splendid;—and precious gifts were made to the young couple by the prince, +and by the members of his household. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +For five happy years, after that wedding, Tomotada and Aoyagi dwelt together. +But one morning Aoyagi, while talking with her husband about some household +matter, suddenly uttered a great cry of pain, and then became very white and +still. After a few moments she said, in a feeble voice: “Pardon me for +thus rudely crying out—but the pain was so sudden!... My dear husband, +our union must have been brought about through some Karma-relation in a former +state of existence; and that happy relation, I think, will bring us again +together in more than one life to come. But for this present existence of ours, +the relation is now ended;—we are about to be separated. Repeat for me, I +beseech you, the <i>Nembutsu</i>-prayer,—because I am dying.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! what strange wild fancies!” cried the startled +husband,—“you are only a little unwell, my dear one!... lie down +for a while, and rest; and the sickness will pass.”... +</p> + +<p> +“No, no!” she responded—“I am dying!—I do not +imagine it;—I know!... And it were needless now, my dear husband, to hide +the truth from you any longer:—I am not a human being. The soul of a tree +is my soul;—the heart of a tree is my heart;—the sap of the willow +is my life. And some one, at this cruel moment, is cutting down my +tree;—that is why I must die!... Even to weep were now beyond my +strength!—quickly, quickly repeat the <i>Nembutsu</i> for me... +quickly!... Ah!...” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +With another cry of pain she turned aside her beautiful head, and tried to hide +her face behind her sleeve. But almost in the same moment her whole form +appeared to collapse in the strangest way, and to sink down, down, +down—level with the floor. Tomotada had sprung to support her;—but +there was nothing to support! There lay on the matting only the empty robes of +the fair creature and the ornaments that she had worn in her hair: the body had +ceased to exist... +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Tomotada shaved his head, took the Buddhist vows, and became an itinerant +priest. He traveled through all the provinces of the empire; and, at holy +places which he visited, he offered up prayers for the soul of Aoyagi. Reaching +Echizen, in the course of his pilgrimage, he sought the home of the parents of +his beloved. But when he arrived at the lonely place among the hills, where +their dwelling had been, he found that the cottage had disappeared. There was +nothing to mark even the spot where it had stood, except the stumps of three +willows—two old trees and one young tree—that had been cut down +long before his arrival. +</p> + +<p> +Beside the stumps of those willow-trees he erected a memorial tomb, inscribed +with divers holy texts; and he there performed many Buddhist services on behalf +of the spirits of Aoyagi and of her parents. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>JIU-ROKU-ZAKURA</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +Uso no yona,—<br/> +Jiu-roku-zakura<br/> +Saki ni keri! +</p> + +<p> +In Wakégōri, a district of the province of Iyo (1), there is a very ancient and +famous cherry-tree, called <i>Jiu-roku-zakura</i>, or “the Cherry-tree of +the Sixteenth Day,” because it blooms every year upon the sixteenth day +of the first month (by the old lunar calendar),—and only upon that day. +Thus the time of its flowering is the Period of Great Cold,—though the +natural habit of a cherry-tree is to wait for the spring season before +venturing to blossom. But the <i>Jiu-roku-zakura</i> blossoms with a life that +is not—or, at least, that was not originally—its own. There is the +ghost of a man in that tree. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +He was a samurai of Iyo; and the tree grew in his garden; and it used to flower +at the usual time,—that is to say, about the end of March or the +beginning of April. He had played under that tree when he was a child; and his +parents and grandparents and ancestors had hung to its blossoming branches, +season after season for more than a hundred years, bright strips of colored +paper inscribed with poems of praise. He himself became very +old,—outliving all his children; and there was nothing in the world left +for him to love except that tree. And lo! in the summer of a certain year, the +tree withered and died! +</p> + +<p> +Exceedingly the old man sorrowed for his tree. Then kind neighbors found for +him a young and beautiful cherry-tree, and planted it in his +garden,—hoping thus to comfort him. And he thanked them, and pretended to +be glad. But really his heart was full of pain; for he had loved the old tree +so well that nothing could have consoled him for the loss of it. +</p> + +<p> +At last there came to him a happy thought: he remembered a way by which the +perishing tree might be saved. (It was the sixteenth day of the first month.) +Along he went into his garden, and bowed down before the withered tree, and +spoke to it, saying: “Now deign, I beseech you, once more to +bloom,—because I am going to die in your stead.” (For it is +believed that one can really give away one’s life to another person, or +to a creature or even to a tree, by the favor of the gods;—and thus to +transfer one’s life is expressed by the term <i>migawari ni tatsu</i>, +“to act as a substitute.”) Then under that tree he spread a white +cloth, and divers coverings, and sat down upon the coverings, and performed +<i>hara-kiri</i> after the fashion of a samurai. And the ghost of him went into +the tree, and made it blossom in that same hour. +</p> + +<p> +And every year it still blooms on the sixteenth day of the first month, in the +season of snow. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>THE DREAM OF AKINOSUKÉ</h2> + +<p> +In the district called Toïchi of Yamato Province, (1) there used to live a +gōshi named Miyata Akinosuké... [Here I must tell you that in Japanese feudal +times there was a privileged class of +soldier-farmers,—free-holders,—corresponding to the class of yeomen +in England; and these were called gōshi.] +</p> + +<p> +In Akinosuké’s garden there was a great and ancient cedar-tree, under +which he was wont to rest on sultry days. One very warm afternoon he was +sitting under this tree with two of his friends, fellow-gōshi, chatting and +drinking wine, when he felt all of a sudden very drowsy,—so drowsy that +he begged his friends to excuse him for taking a nap in their presence. Then he +lay down at the foot of the tree, and dreamed this dream:— +</p> + +<p> +He thought that as he was lying there in his garden, he saw a procession, like +the train of some great daimyō descending a hill near by, and that he got up to +look at it. A very grand procession it proved to be,—more imposing than +anything of the kind which he had ever seen before; and it was advancing toward +his dwelling. He observed in the van of it a number of young men richly +appareled, who were drawing a great lacquered palace-carriage, or +<i>gosho-guruma</i>, hung with bright blue silk. When the procession arrived +within a short distance of the house it halted; and a richly dressed +man—evidently a person of rank—advanced from it, approached +Akinosuké, bowed to him profoundly, and then said:— +</p> + +<p> +“Honored Sir, you see before you a <i>kérai</i> [vassal] of the Kokuō of +Tokoyo.<a href="#fn14.1" name="fnref14.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> My master, the +King, commands me to greet you in his august name, and to place myself wholly +at your disposal. He also bids me inform you that he augustly desires your +presence at the palace. Be therefore pleased immediately to enter this +honorable carriage, which he has sent for your conveyance.” +</p> + +<p> +Upon hearing these words Akinosuké wanted to make some fitting reply; but he +was too much astonished and embarrassed for speech;—and in the same +moment his will seemed to melt away from him, so that he could only do as the +<i>kérai</i> bade him. He entered the carriage; the <i>kérai</i> took a place +beside him, and made a signal; the drawers, seizing the silken ropes, turned +the great vehicle southward;—and the journey began. +</p> + +<p> +In a very short time, to Akinosuké’s amazement, the carriage stopped in +front of a huge two-storied gateway (<i>rōmon</i>), of a Chinese style, which +he had never before seen. Here the <i>kérai</i> dismounted, saying, “I go +to announce the honorable arrival,”—and he disappeared. After some +little waiting, Akinosuké saw two noble-looking men, wearing robes of purple +silk and high caps of the form indicating lofty rank, come from the gateway. +These, after having respectfully saluted him, helped him to descend from the +carriage, and led him through the great gate and across a vast garden, to the +entrance of a palace whose front appeared to extend, west and east, to a +distance of miles. Akinosuké was then shown into a reception-room of wonderful +size and splendor. His guides conducted him to the place of honor, and +respectfully seated themselves apart; while serving-maids, in costume of +ceremony, brought refreshments. When Akinosuké had partaken of the +refreshments, the two purple-robed attendants bowed low before him, and +addressed him in the following words,—each speaking alternately, +according to the etiquette of courts:— +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“It is now our honorable duty to inform you... as to the reason of your +having been summoned hither... Our master, the King, augustly desires that you +become his son-in-law;... and it is his wish and command that you shall wed +this very day... the August Princess, his maiden-daughter... We shall soon +conduct you to the presence-chamber... where His Augustness even now is waiting +to receive you... But it will be necessary that we first invest you... with the +appropriate garments of ceremony.”<a href="#fn14.2" name="fnref14.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +Having thus spoken, the attendants rose together, and proceeded to an alcove +containing a great chest of gold lacquer. They opened the chest, and took from +it various robes and girdles of rich material, and a <i>kamuri</i>, or regal +headdress. With these they attired Akinosuké as befitted a princely bridegroom; +and he was then conducted to the presence-room, where he saw the Kokuō of +Tokoyo seated upon the <i>daiza</i>,<a href="#fn14.3" name="fnref14.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a> +wearing a high black cap of state, and robed in robes of yellow silk. Before +the <i>daiza</i>, to left and right, a multitude of dignitaries sat in rank, +motionless and splendid as images in a temple; and Akinosuké, advancing into +their midst, saluted the king with the triple prostration of usage. The king +greeted him with gracious words, and then said:— +</p> + +<p> +“You have already been informed as to the reason of your having been +summoned to Our presence. We have decided that you shall become the adopted +husband of Our only daughter;—and the wedding ceremony shall now be +performed.” +</p> + +<p> +As the king finished speaking, a sound of joyful music was heard; and a long +train of beautiful court ladies advanced from behind a curtain to conduct +Akinosuké to the room in which his bride awaited him. +</p> + +<p> +The room was immense; but it could scarcely contain the multitude of guests +assembled to witness the wedding ceremony. All bowed down before Akinosuké as +he took his place, facing the King’s daughter, on the kneeling-cushion +prepared for him. As a maiden of heaven the bride appeared to be; and her robes +were beautiful as a summer sky. And the marriage was performed amid great +rejoicing. +</p> + +<p> +Afterwards the pair were conducted to a suite of apartments that had been +prepared for them in another portion of the palace; and there they received the +congratulations of many noble persons, and wedding gifts beyond counting. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Some days later Akinosuké was again summoned to the throne-room. On this +occasion he was received even more graciously than before; and the King said to +him:— +</p> + +<p> +“In the southwestern part of Our dominion there is an island called +Raishū. We have now appointed you Governor of that island. You will find the +people loyal and docile; but their laws have not yet been brought into proper +accord with the laws of Tokoyo; and their customs have not been properly +regulated. We entrust you with the duty of improving their social condition as +far as may be possible; and We desire that you shall rule them with kindness +and wisdom. All preparations necessary for your journey to Raishū have already +been made.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +So Akinosuké and his bride departed from the palace of Tokoyo, accompanied to +the shore by a great escort of nobles and officials; and they embarked upon a +ship of state provided by the king. And with favoring winds they safety sailed +to Raishū, and found the good people of that island assembled upon the beach to +welcome them. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Akinosuké entered at once upon his new duties; and they did not prove to be +hard. During the first three years of his governorship he was occupied chiefly +with the framing and the enactment of laws; but he had wise counselors to help +him, and he never found the work unpleasant. When it was all finished, he had +no active duties to perform, beyond attending the rites and ceremonies ordained +by ancient custom. The country was so healthy and so fertile that sickness and +want were unknown; and the people were so good that no laws were ever broken. +And Akinosuké dwelt and ruled in Raishū for twenty years more,—making in +all twenty-three years of sojourn, during which no shadow of sorrow traversed +his life. +</p> + +<p> +But in the twenty-fourth year of his governorship, a great misfortune came upon +him; for his wife, who had borne him seven children,—five boys and two +girls,—fell sick and died. She was buried, with high pomp, on the summit +of a beautiful hill in the district of Hanryōkō; and a monument, exceedingly +splendid, was placed upon her grave. But Akinosuké felt such grief at her death +that he no longer cared to live. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Now when the legal period of mourning was over, there came to Raishū, from the +Tokoyo palace, a <i>shisha</i>, or royal messenger. The <i>shisha</i> delivered +to Akinosuké a message of condolence, and then said to him:— +</p> + +<p> +“These are the words which our august master, the King of Tokoyo, +commands that I repeat to you: ‘We will now send you back to your own +people and country. As for the seven children, they are the grandsons and +granddaughters of the King, and shall be fitly cared for. Do not, therefore, +allow your mind to be troubled concerning them.’” +</p> + +<p> +On receiving this mandate, Akinosuké submissively prepared for his departure. +When all his affairs had been settled, and the ceremony of bidding farewell to +his counselors and trusted officials had been concluded, he was escorted with +much honor to the port. There he embarked upon the ship sent for him; and the +ship sailed out into the blue sea, under the blue sky; and the shape of the +island of Raishū itself turned blue, and then turned grey, and then vanished +forever... And Akinosuké suddenly awoke—under the cedar-tree in his own +garden! +</p> + +<p> +For a moment he was stupefied and dazed. But he perceived his two friends still +seated near him,—drinking and chatting merrily. He stared at them in a +bewildered way, and cried aloud,— +</p> + +<p> +“How strange!” +</p> + +<p> +“Akinosuké must have been dreaming,” one of them exclaimed, with a +laugh. “What did you see, Akinosuké, that was strange?” +</p> + +<p> +Then Akinosuké told his dream,—that dream of three-and-twenty +years’ sojourn in the realm of Tokoyo, in the island of Raishū;—and +they were astonished, because he had really slept for no more than a few +minutes. +</p> + +<p> +One gōshi said:— +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, you saw strange things. We also saw something strange while you +were napping. A little yellow butterfly was fluttering over your face for a +moment or two; and we watched it. Then it alighted on the ground beside you, +close to the tree; and almost as soon as it alighted there, a big, big ant came +out of a hole and seized it and pulled it down into the hole. Just before you +woke up, we saw that very butterfly come out of the hole again, and flutter +over your face as before. And then it suddenly disappeared: we do not know +where it went.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps it was Akinosuké’s soul,” the other gōshi +said;—“certainly I thought I saw it fly into his mouth... But, even +if that butterfly <i>was</i> Akinosuké’s soul, the fact would not explain +his dream.” +</p> + +<p> +“The ants might explain it,” returned the first speaker. +“Ants are queer beings—possibly goblins... Anyhow, there is a big +ant’s nest under that cedar-tree.”... +</p> + +<p> +“Let us look!” cried Akinosuké, greatly moved by this suggestion. +And he went for a spade. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +The ground about and beneath the cedar-tree proved to have been excavated, in a +most surprising way, by a prodigious colony of ants. The ants had furthermore +built inside their excavations; and their tiny constructions of straw, clay, +and stems bore an odd resemblance to miniature towns. In the middle of a +structure considerably larger than the rest there was a marvelous swarming of +small ants around the body of one very big ant, which had yellowish wings and a +long black head. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, there is the King of my dream!” cried Akinosuké; “and +there is the palace of Tokoyo!... How extraordinary!... Raishū ought to lie +somewhere southwest of it—to the left of that big root... Yes!—here +it is!... How very strange! Now I am sure that I can find the mountain of +Hanryōkō, and the grave of the princess.”... +</p> + +<p> +In the wreck of the nest he searched and searched, and at last discovered a +tiny mound, on the top of which was fixed a water-worn pebble, in shape +resembling a Buddhist monument. Underneath it he found—embedded in +clay—the dead body of a female ant. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>RIKI-BAKA</h2> + +<p> +His name was Riki, signifying Strength; but the people called him +Riki-the-Simple, or Riki-the-Fool,—“Riki-Baka,”—because +he had been born into perpetual childhood. For the same reason they were kind +to him,—even when he set a house on fire by putting a lighted match to a +mosquito-curtain, and clapped his hands for joy to see the blaze. At sixteen +years he was a tall, strong lad; but in mind he remained always at the happy +age of two, and therefore continued to play with very small children. The +bigger children of the neighborhood, from four to seven years old, did not care +to play with him, because he could not learn their songs and games. His +favorite toy was a broomstick, which he used as a hobby-horse; and for hours at +a time he would ride on that broomstick, up and down the slope in front of my +house, with amazing peals of laughter. But at last he became troublesome by +reason of his noise; and I had to tell him that he must find another +playground. He bowed submissively, and then went off,—sorrowfully +trailing his broomstick behind him. Gentle at all times, and perfectly harmless +if allowed no chance to play with fire, he seldom gave anybody cause for +complaint. His relation to the life of our street was scarcely more than that +of a dog or a chicken; and when he finally disappeared, I did not miss him. +Months and months passed by before anything happened to remind me of Riki. +</p> + +<p> +“What has become of Riki?” I then asked the old woodcutter who +supplies our neighborhood with fuel. I remembered that Riki had often helped +him to carry his bundles. +</p> + +<p> +“Riki-Baka?” answered the old man. “Ah, Riki is +dead—poor fellow!... Yes, he died nearly a year ago, very suddenly; the +doctors said that he had some disease of the brain. And there is a strange +story now about that poor Riki. +</p> + +<p> +“When Riki died, his mother wrote his name, ‘Riki-Baka,’ in +the palm of his left hand,—putting ‘Riki’ in the Chinese +character, and ‘Baka’ in <i>kana</i> (1). And she repeated many +prayers for him,—prayers that he might be reborn into some more happy +condition. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, about three months ago, in the honorable residence of +Nanigashi-Sama (2), in Kojimachi (3), a boy was born with characters on the +palm of his left hand; and the characters were quite plain to +read,—‘<i>R<small>IKI</small>-B<small>AKA</small></i>’! +</p> + +<p> +“So the people of that house knew that the birth must have happened in +answer to somebody’s prayer; and they caused inquiry to be made +everywhere. At last a vegetable-seller brought word to them that there used to +be a simple lad, called Riki-Baka, living in the Ushigomé quarter, and that he +had died during the last autumn; and they sent two men-servants to look for the +mother of Riki. +</p> + +<p> +“Those servants found the mother of Riki, and told her what had happened; +and she was glad exceedingly—for that Nanigashi house is a very rich and +famous house. But the servants said that the family of Nanigashi-Sama were very +angry about the word ‘Baka’ on the child’s hand. ‘And +where is your Riki buried?’ the servants asked. ‘He is buried in +the cemetery of Zendōji,’ she told them. ‘Please to give us some of +the clay of his grave,’ they requested. +</p> + +<p> +“So she went with them to the temple Zendōji, and showed them +Riki’s grave; and they took some of the grave-clay away with them, +wrapped up in a <i>furoshiki</i><a href="#fn15.1" name="fnref15.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a>].... +They gave Riki’s mother some money,—ten yen.”... (4) +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“But what did they want with that clay?” I inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” the old man answered, “you know that it would not do +to let the child grow up with that name on his hand. And there is no other +means of removing characters that come in that way upon the body of a child: +<i>you must rub the skin with clay taken from the grave of the body of the +former birth</i>.”... +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>HI-MAWARI</h2> + +<p> +On the wooded hill behind the house Robert and I are looking for fairy-rings. +Robert is eight years old, comely, and very wise;—I am a little more than +seven,—and I reverence Robert. It is a glowing glorious August day; and +the warm air is filled with sharp sweet scents of resin. +</p> + +<p> +We do not find any fairy-rings; but we find a great many pine-cones in the high +grass... I tell Robert the old Welsh story of the man who went to sleep, +unawares, inside a fairy-ring, and so disappeared for seven years, and would +never eat or speak after his friends had delivered him from the enchantment. +</p> + +<p> +“They eat nothing but the points of needles, you know,” says +Robert. +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” I ask. +</p> + +<p> +“Goblins,” Robert answers. +</p> + +<p> +This revelation leaves me dumb with astonishment and awe... But Robert suddenly +cries out:— +</p> + +<p> +“There is a Harper!—he is coming to the house!” +</p> + +<p> +And down the hill we run to hear the harper... But what a harper! Not like the +hoary minstrels of the picture-books. A swarthy, sturdy, unkempt vagabond, with +black bold eyes under scowling black brows. More like a bricklayer than a +bard,—and his garments are corduroy! +</p> + +<p> +“Wonder if he is going to sing in Welsh?” murmurs Robert. +</p> + +<p> +I feel too much disappointed to make any remarks. The harper poses his +harp—a huge instrument—upon our doorstep, sets all the strong +ringing with a sweep of his grimy fingers, clears his throat with a sort of +angry growl, and begins,— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,<br/> + Which I gaze on so fondly to-day... +</p> + +<p> +The accent, the attitude, the voice, all fill me with repulsion +unutterable,—shock me with a new sensation of formidable vulgarity. I +want to cry out loud, “You have no right to sing that song!” For I +have heard it sung by the lips of the dearest and fairest being in my little +world;—and that this rude, coarse man should dare to sing it vexes me +like a mockery,—angers me like an insolence. But only for a moment!... +With the utterance of the syllables “to-day,” that deep, grim voice +suddenly breaks into a quivering tenderness indescribable;—then, +marvelously changing, it mellows into tones sonorous and rich as the bass of a +great organ,—while a sensation unlike anything ever felt before takes me +by the throat... What witchcraft has he learned? what secret has he +found—this scowling man of the road?... Oh! is there anybody else in the +whole world who can sing like that?... And the form of the singer flickers and +dims;—and the house, and the lawn, and all visible shapes of things +tremble and swim before me. Yet instinctively I fear that man;—I almost +hate him; and I feel myself flushing with anger and shame because of his power +to move me thus... +</p> + +<p> +“He made you cry,” Robert compassionately observes, to my further +confusion,—as the harper strides away, richer by a gift of sixpence taken +without thanks... “But I think he must be a gipsy. Gipsies are bad +people—and they are wizards... Let us go back to the wood.” +</p> + +<p> +We climb again to the pines, and there squat down upon the sun-flecked grass, +and look over town and sea. But we do not play as before: the spell of the +wizard is strong upon us both... “Perhaps he is a goblin,” I +venture at last, “or a fairy?” “No,” says +Robert,—“only a gipsy. But that is nearly as bad. They steal +children, you know.”... +</p> + +<p> +“What shall we do if he comes up here?” I gasp, in sudden terror at +the lonesomeness of our situation. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he wouldn’t dare,” answers Robert—“not by +daylight, you know.”... +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +[Only yesterday, near the village of Takata, I noticed a flower which the +Japanese call by nearly the same name as we do: <i>Himawari</i>, “The +Sunward-turning;”—and over the space of forty years there thrilled +back to me the voice of that wandering harper,— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +As the Sunflower turns on her god, when he sets,<br/> +The same look that she turned when he rose. +</p> + +<p> +Again I saw the sun-flecked shadows on that far Welsh hill; and Robert for a +moment again stood beside me, with his girl’s face and his curls of gold. +We were looking for fairy-rings... But all that existed of the real Robert must +long ago have suffered a sea-change into something rich and strange... +<i>Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his +friend</i>....] +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a>HŌRAI</h2> + +<p> +Blue vision of depth lost in height,—sea and sky interblending through +luminous haze. The day is of spring, and the hour morning. +</p> + +<p> +Only sky and sea,—one azure enormity... In the fore, ripples are catching +a silvery light, and threads of foam are swirling. But a little further off no +motion is visible, nor anything save color: dim warm blue of water widening +away to melt into blue of air. Horizon there is none: only distance soaring +into space,—infinite concavity hollowing before you, and hugely arching +above you,—the color deepening with the height. But far in the +midway-blue there hangs a faint, faint vision of palace towers, with high roofs +horned and curved like moons,—some shadowing of splendor strange and old, +illumined by a sunshine soft as memory. +</p> + +<p> +...What I have thus been trying to describe is a kakémono,—that is to +say, a Japanese painting on silk, suspended to the wall of my alcove;—and +the name of it is S<small>HINKIRŌ</small>, which signifies +“Mirage.” But the shapes of the mirage are unmistakable. Those are +the glimmering portals of Hōrai the blest; and those are the moony roofs of the +Palace of the Dragon-King;—and the fashion of them (though limned by a +Japanese brush of to-day) is the fashion of things Chinese, twenty-one hundred +years ago... +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Thus much is told of the place in the Chinese books of that time:— +</p> + +<p> +In Hōrai there is neither death nor pain; and there is no winter. The flowers +in that place never fade, and the fruits never fail; and if a man taste of +those fruits even but once, he can never again feel thirst or hunger. In Hōrai +grow the enchanted plants <i>So-rin-shi</i>, and <i>Riku-gō-aoi</i>, and +<i>Ban-kon-tō</i>, which heal all manner of sickness;—and there grows +also the magical grass <i>Yō-shin-shi</i>, that quickens the dead; and the +magical grass is watered by a fairy water of which a single drink confers +perpetual youth. The people of Hōrai eat their rice out of very, very small +bowls; but the rice never diminishes within those bowls,—however much of +it be eaten,—until the eater desires no more. And the people of Hōrai +drink their wine out of very, very small cups; but no man can empty one of +those cups,—however stoutly he may drink,—until there comes upon +him the pleasant drowsiness of intoxication. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +All this and more is told in the legends of the time of the Shin dynasty. But +that the people who wrote down those legends ever saw Hōrai, even in a mirage, +is not believable. For really there are no enchanted fruits which leave the +eater forever satisfied,—nor any magical grass which revives the +dead,—nor any fountain of fairy water,—nor any bowls which never +lack rice,—nor any cups which never lack wine. It is not true that sorrow +and death never enter Hōrai;—neither is it true that there is not any +winter. The winter in Hōrai is cold;—and winds then bite to the bone; and +the heaping of snow is monstrous on the roofs of the Dragon-King. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless there are wonderful things in Hōrai; and the most wonderful of all +has not been mentioned by any Chinese writer. I mean the atmosphere of Hōrai. +It is an atmosphere peculiar to the place; and, because of it, the sunshine in +Hōrai is <i>whiter</i> than any other sunshine,—a milky light that never +dazzles,—astonishingly clear, but very soft. This atmosphere is not of +our human period: it is enormously old,—so old that I feel afraid when I +try to think how old it is;—and it is not a mixture of nitrogen and +oxygen. It is not made of air at all, but of ghost,—the substance of +quintillions of quintillions of generations of souls blended into one immense +translucency,—souls of people who thought in ways never resembling our +ways. Whatever mortal man inhales that atmosphere, he takes into his blood the +thrilling of these spirits; and they change the sense within +him,—reshaping his notions of Space and Time,—so that he can see +only as they used to see, and feel only as they used to feel, and think only as +they used to think. Soft as sleep are these changes of sense; and Hōrai, +discerned across them, might thus be described:— +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +<i>—Because in Hōrai there is no knowledge of great evil, the hearts of +the people never grow old. And, by reason of being always young in heart, the +people of Hōrai smile from birth until death—except when the Gods send +sorrow among them; and faces then are veiled until the sorrow goes away. All +folk in Hōrai love and trust each other, as if all were members of a single +household;—and the speech of the women is like birdsong, because the +hearts of them are light as the souls of birds;—and the swaying of the +sleeves of the maidens at play seems a flutter of wide, soft wings. In Hōrai +nothing is hidden but grief, because there is no reason for shame;—and +nothing is locked away, because there could not be any theft;—and by +night as well as by day all doors remain unbarred, because there is no reason +for fear. And because the people are fairies—though mortal—all +things in Hōrai, except the Palace of the Dragon-King, are small and quaint and +queer;—and these fairy-folk do really eat their rice out of very, very +small bowls, and drink their wine out of very, very small cups....</i> +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +—Much of this seeming would be due to the inhalation of that ghostly +atmosphere—but not all. For the spell wrought by the dead is only the +charm of an Ideal, the glamour of an ancient hope;—and something of that +hope has found fulfillment in many hearts,—in the simple beauty of +unselfish lives,—in the sweetness of Woman... +</p> + +<p> +—Evil winds from the West are blowing over Hōrai; and the magical +atmosphere, alas! is shrinking away before them. It lingers now in patches +only, and bands,—like those long bright bands of cloud that train across +the landscapes of Japanese painters. Under these shreds of the elfish vapor you +still can find Hōrai—but not everywhere... Remember that Hōrai is also +called Shinkirō, which signifies Mirage,—the Vision of the Intangible. +And the Vision is fading,—never again to appear save in pictures and +poems and dreams... +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a>INSECT STUDIES</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap19"></a>BUTTERFLIES</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +Would that I could hope for the luck of that Chinese scholar known to Japanese +literature as “Rōsan”! For he was beloved by two spirit-maidens, +celestial sisters, who every ten days came to visit him and to tell him stories +about butterflies. Now there are marvelous Chinese stories about +butterflies—ghostly stories; and I want to know them. But never shall I +be able to read Chinese, nor even Japanese; and the little Japanese poetry that +I manage, with exceeding difficulty, to translate, contains so many allusions +to Chinese stories of butterflies that I am tormented with the torment of +Tantalus... And, of course, no spirit-maidens will even deign to visit so +skeptical a person as myself. +</p> + +<p> +I want to know, for example, the whole story of that Chinese maiden whom the +butterflies took to be a flower, and followed in multitude,—so fragrant +and so fair was she. Also I should like to know something more concerning the +butterflies of the Emperor Gensō, or Ming Hwang, who made them choose his loves +for him... He used to hold wine-parties in his amazing garden; and ladies of +exceeding beauty were in attendance; and caged butterflies, set free among +them, would fly to the fairest; and then, upon that fairest the Imperial favor +was bestowed. But after Gensō Kōtei had seen Yōkihi (whom the Chinese call +Yang-Kwei-Fei), he would not suffer the butterflies to choose for +him,—which was unlucky, as Yokihi got him into serious trouble... Again, +I should like to know more about the experience of that Chinese scholar, +celebrated in Japan under the name Sōshū, who dreamed that he was a butterfly, +and had all the sensations of a butterfly in that dream. For his spirit had +really been wandering about in the shape of a butterfly; and, when he awoke, +the memories and the feelings of butterfly existence remained so vivid in his +mind that he could not act like a human being... Finally I should like to know +the text of a certain Chinese official recognition of sundry butterflies as the +spirits of an Emperor and of his attendants... +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Most of the Japanese literature about butterflies, excepting some poetry, +appears to be of Chinese origin; and even that old national aæsthetic feeling +on the subject, which found such delightful expression in Japanese art and song +and custom, may have been first developed under Chinese teaching. Chinese +precedent doubtless explains why Japanese poets and painters chose so often for +their <i>geimyō</i>, or professional appellations, such names as <i>Chōmu</i> +(“Butterfly-Dream),” <i>Ichō</i> (“Solitary +Butterfly),” etc. And even to this day such <i>geimyō</i> as +<i>Chōhana</i> (“Butterfly-Blossom”), <i>Chōkichi</i> +(“Butterfly-Luck”), or <i>Chōnosuké</i> +(“Butterfly-Help”), are affected by dancing-girls. Besides artistic +names having reference to butterflies, there are still in use real personal +names (<i>yobina</i>) of this kind,—such as Kochō, or Chō, meaning +“Butterfly.” They are borne by women only, as a rule,—though +there are some strange exceptions... And here I may mention that, in the +province of Mutsu, there still exists the curious old custom of calling the +youngest daughter in a family <i>Tekona</i>,—which quaint word, obsolete +elsewhere, signifies in Mutsu dialect a butterfly. In classic time this word +signified also a beautiful woman... +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +It is possible also that some weird Japanese beliefs about butterflies are of +Chinese derivation; but these beliefs might be older than China herself. The +most interesting one, I think, is that the soul of a <i>living</i> person may +wander about in the form of a butterfly. Some pretty fancies have been evolved +out of this belief,—such as the notion that if a butterfly enters your +guest-room and perches behind the bamboo screen, the person whom you most love +is coming to see you. That a butterfly may be the spirit of somebody is not a +reason for being afraid of it. Nevertheless there are times when even +butterflies can inspire fear by appearing in prodigious numbers; and Japanese +history records such an event. When Taïra-no-Masakado was secretly preparing +for his famous revolt, there appeared in Kyōto so vast a swarm of butterflies +that the people were frightened,—thinking the apparition to be a portent +of coming evil... Perhaps those butterflies were supposed to be the spirits of +the thousands doomed to perish in battle, and agitated on the eve of war by +some mysterious premonition of death. +</p> + +<p> +However, in Japanese belief, a butterfly may be the soul of a dead person as +well as of a living person. Indeed it is a custom of souls to take +butterfly-shape in order to announce the fact of their final departure from the +body; and for this reason any butterfly which enters a house ought to be kindly +treated. +</p> + +<p> +To this belief, and to queer fancies connected with it, there are many +allusions in popular drama. For example, there is a well-known play called +<i>Tondé-déru-Kochō-no-Kanzashi;</i> or, “The Flying Hairpin of +Kochō.” Kochō is a beautiful person who kills herself because of false +accusations and cruel treatment. Her would-be avenger long seeks in vain for +the author of the wrong. But at last the dead woman’s hairpin turns into +a butterfly, and serves as a guide to vengeance by hovering above the place +where the villain is hiding. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +—Of course those big paper butterflies (<i>o-chō</i> and <i>mé-chō</i>) +which figure at weddings must not be thought of as having any ghostly +signification. As emblems they only express the joy of living union, and the +hope that the newly married couple may pass through life together as a pair of +butterflies flit lightly through some pleasant garden,—now hovering +upward, now downward, but never widely separating. +</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +A small selection of <i>hokku</i> (1) on butterflies will help to illustrate +Japanese interest in the aæsthetic side of the subject. Some are pictures +only,—tiny color-sketches made with seventeen syllables; some are nothing +more than pretty fancies, or graceful suggestions;—but the reader will +find variety. Probably he will not care much for the verses in themselves. The +taste for Japanese poetry of the epigrammatic sort is a taste that must be +slowly acquired; and it is only by degrees, after patient study, that the +possibilities of such composition can be fairly estimated. Hasty criticism has +declared that to put forward any serious claim on behalf of seventeen-syllable +poems “would be absurd.” But what, then, of Crashaw’s famous +line upon the miracle at the marriage feast in Cana?— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Nympha pudica Deum vidit, et erubuit.<a href="#fn19.1" name="fnref19.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +Only fourteen syllables—and immortality. Now with seventeen Japanese +syllables things quite as wonderful—indeed, much more +wonderful—have been done, not once or twice, but probably a thousand +times... However, there is nothing wonderful in the following <i>hokku</i>, +which have been selected for more than literary reasons:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Nugi-kakuru<a href="#fn19.2" name="fnref19.2"><sup>[2]</sup></a><br/> +Haori sugata no<br/> + Kochō kana! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Like a</i> haori <i>being taken off—that is the shape of a +butterfly!</i>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Torisashi no<br/> +Sao no jama suru<br/> + Kochō kana! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Ah, the butterfly keeps getting in the way of the bird-catcher’s +pole!</i><a href="#fn19.3" name="fnref19.3"><sup>[3]</sup></a>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Tsurigané ni<br/> +Tomarité nemuru<br/> + Kochō kana! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Perched upon the temple-bell, the butterfly sleeps:</i>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Néru-uchi mo<br/> +Asobu-yumé wo ya—<br/> + Kusa no chō! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Even while sleeping, its dream is of play—ah, the butterfly of the +grass!</i><a href="#fn19.4" name="fnref19.4"><sup>[4]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Oki, oki yo!<br/> +Waga tomo ni sen,<br/> + Néru-kochō! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Wake up! wake up!—I will make thee my comrade, thou sleeping +butterfly.</i><a href="#fn19.5" name="fnref19.5"><sup>[5]</sup></a>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Kago no tori<br/> +Chō wo urayamu<br/> + Metsuki kana! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Ah, the sad expression in the eyes of that caged bird!—envying the +butterfly!</i>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Chō tondé—<br/> +Kazé naki hi to mo<br/> + Miëzari ki! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Even though it did not appear to be a windy day</i>,<a href="#fn19.6" name="fnref19.6"><sup>[6]</sup></a> +<i>the fluttering of the butterflies—!</i>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Rakkwa éda ni<br/> +Kaëru to miréba—<br/> + Kochō kana! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>When I saw the fallen flower return to the branch—lo! it was only a +butterfly!</i><a href="#fn19.7" name="fnref19.7"><sup>[7]</sup></a>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Chiru-hana ni—<br/> +Karusa arasoü<br/> + Kochō kana! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>How the butterfly strives to compete in lightness with the falling +flowers!</i><a href="#fn19.8" name="fnref19.8"><sup>[8]</sup></a>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Chōchō ya!<br/> +Onna no michi no<br/> + Ato ya saki! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>See that butterfly on the woman’s path,—now fluttering behind +her, now before!</i>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Chōchō ya!<br/> +Hana-nusubito wo<br/> + Tsukété-yuku! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Ha! the butterfly!—it is following the person who stole the +flowers!</i>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Aki no chō<br/> +Tomo nakéréba ya;<br/> + Hito ni tsuku +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Poor autumn butterfly!—when left without a comrade</i> (of its own +race), <i>it follows after man</i> (or “a person”)!] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Owarété mo,<br/> +Isoganu furi no<br/> + Chōcho kana! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Ah, the butterfly! Even when chased, it never has the air of being in a +hurry.</i>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Chō wa mina<br/> +Jiu-shichi-hachi no<br/> + Sugata kana! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>As for butterflies, they all have the appearance of being about seventeen +or eighteen years old.</i><a href="#fn19.9" name="fnref19.9"><sup>[9]</sup></a>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Chō tobu ya—<br/> +Kono yo no urami<br/> + Naki yō ni! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>How the butterfly sports,—just as if there were no enmity</i> (or +“envy”) <i>in this world!</i>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Chō tobu ya,<br/> +Kono yo ni nozomi<br/> + Nai yō ni! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Ah, the butterfly!—it sports about as if it had nothing more to +desire in this present state of existence.</i>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Nami no hana ni<br/> +Tomari kanétaru,<br/> + Kochō kana! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Having found it difficult indeed to perch upon the</i> (<i>foam</i>-) +<i>blossoms of the waves,—alas for the butterfly!</i>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Mutsumashi ya!—<br/> +Umaré-kawareba<br/> + Nobé no chō.<a href="#fn19.10" name="fnref19.10"><sup>[10]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>If</i> (in our next existence) <i>we be born into the state of butterflies +upon the moor, then perchance we may be happy together!</i>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Nadéshiko ni<br/> +Chōchō shiroshi—<br/> + Taré no kon?<a href="#fn19.11" name="fnref19.11"><sup>[11]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>On the pink-flower there is a white butterfly: whose spirit, I wonder?</i>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Ichi-nichi no<br/> +Tsuma to miëkéri—<br/> + Chō futatsu. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>The one-day wife has at last appeared—a pair of butterflies!</i>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Kité wa maü,<br/> +Futari shidzuka no<br/> + Kochō kana! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Approaching they dance; but when the two meet at last they are very quiet, +the butterflies!</i>] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Chō wo oü<br/> +Kokoro-mochitashi<br/> + Itsumadémo! +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Would that I might always have the heart</i> (desire) <i>of chasing +butterflies!</i><a href="#fn19.12" name="fnref19.12"><sup>[12]</sup></a>] +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +Besides these specimens of poetry about butterflies, I have one queer example +to offer of Japanese prose literature on the same topic. The original, of which +I have attempted only a free translation, can be found in the curious old book +<i>Mushi-Isamé</i> (“Insect-Admonitions”); and it assumes the form +of a discourse to a butterfly. But it is really a didactic +allegory,—suggesting the moral significance of a social rise and +fall:— +</p> + +<p> +“Now, under the sun of spring, the winds are gentle, and flowers pinkly +bloom, and grasses are soft, and the hearts of people are glad. Butterflies +everywhere flutter joyously: so many persons now compose Chinese verses and +Japanese verses about butterflies. +</p> + +<p> +“And this season, O Butterfly, is indeed the season of your bright +prosperity: so comely you now are that in the whole world there is nothing more +comely. For that reason all other insects admire and envy you;—there is +not among them even one that does not envy you. Nor do insects alone regard you +with envy: men also both envy and admire you. Sōshū of China, in a dream, +assumed your shape;—Sakoku of Japan, after dying, took your form, and +therein made ghostly apparition. Nor is the envy that you inspire shared only +by insects and mankind: even things without soul change their form into +yours;—witness the barley-grass, which turns into a butterfly.<a href="#fn19.13" name="fnref19.13"><sup>[13]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +“And therefore you are lifted up with pride, and think to yourself: +‘In all this world there is nothing superior to me!’ Ah! I can very +well guess what is in your heart: you are too much satisfied with your own +person. That is why you let yourself be blown thus lightly about by every +wind;—that is why you never remain still,—always, always thinking, +‘In the whole world there is no one so fortunate as I.’ +</p> + +<p> +“But now try to think a little about your own personal history. It is +worth recalling; for there is a vulgar side to it. How a vulgar side? Well, for +a considerable time after you were born, you had no such reason for rejoicing +in your form. You were then a mere cabbage-insect, a hairy worm; and you were +so poor that you could not afford even one robe to cover your nakedness; and +your appearance was altogether disgusting. Everybody in those days hated the +sight of you. Indeed you had good reason to be ashamed of yourself; and so +ashamed you were that you collected old twigs and rubbish to hide in, and you +made a hiding-nest, and hung it to a branch,—and then everybody cried out +to you, ‘Raincoat Insect!’ (<i>Mino-mushi</i>.)<a href="#fn19.14" name="fnref19.14"><sup>[14]</sup></a> +And during that period of your life, your sins were grievous. Among the tender +green leaves of beautiful cherry-trees you and your fellows assembled, and +there made ugliness extraordinary; and the expectant eyes of the people, who +came from far away to admire the beauty of those cherry-trees, were hurt by the +sight of you. And of things even more hateful than this you were guilty. You +knew that poor, poor men and women had been cultivating <i>daikon</i> (2) in +their fields,—toiling under the hot sun till their hearts were filled +with bitterness by reason of having to care for that <i>daikon;</i> and you +persuaded your companions to go with you, and to gather upon the leaves of that +<i>daikon</i>, and on the leaves of other vegetables planted by those poor +people. Out of your greediness you ravaged those leaves, and gnawed them into +all shapes of ugliness,—caring nothing for the trouble of those poor +folk... Yes, such a creature you were, and such were your doings. +</p> + +<p> +“And now that you have a comely form, you despise your old comrades, the +insects; and, whenever you happen to meet any of them, you pretend not to know +them [literally, ‘You make an I-don’t-know face’]. Now you +want to have none but wealthy and exalted people for friends... Ah! You have +forgotten the old times, have you? +</p> + +<p> +“It is true that many people have forgotten your past, and are charmed by +the sight of your present graceful shape and white wings, and write Chinese +verses and Japanese verses about you. The high-born damsel, who could not bear +even to look at you in your former shape, now gazes at you with delight, and +wants you to perch upon her hairpin, and holds out her dainty fan in the hope +that you will light upon it. But this reminds me that there is an ancient +Chinese story about you, which is not pretty. +</p> + +<p> +“In the time of the Emperor Gensō, the Imperial Palace contained hundreds +and thousands of beautiful ladies,—so many, indeed, that it would have +been difficult for any man to decide which among them was the loveliest. So all +of those beautiful persons were assembled together in one place; and you were +set free to fly among them; and it was decreed that the damsel upon whose +hairpin you perched should be augustly summoned to the Imperial Chamber. In +that time there could not be more than one Empress—which was a good law; +but, because of you, the Emperor Gensō did great mischief in the land. For your +mind is light and frivolous; and although among so many beautiful women there +must have been some persons of pure heart, you would look for nothing but +beauty, and so betook yourself to the person most beautiful in outward +appearance. Therefore many of the female attendants ceased altogether to think +about the right way of women, and began to study how to make themselves appear +splendid in the eyes of men. And the end of it was that the Emperor Gensō died +a pitiful and painful death—all because of your light and trifling mind. +Indeed, your real character can easily be seen from your conduct in other +matters. There are trees, for example,—such as the evergreen-oak and the +pine,—whose leaves do not fade and fall, but remain always +green;—these are trees of firm heart, trees of solid character. But you +say that they are stiff and formal; and you hate the sight of them, and never +pay them a visit. Only to the cherry-tree, and the <i>kaido</i><a href="#fn19.15" name="fnref19.15"><sup>[15]</sup></a>, +and the peony, and the yellow rose you go: those you like because they have +showy flowers, and you try only to please them. Such conduct, let me assure +you, is very unbecoming. Those trees certainly have handsome flowers; but +hunger-satisfying fruits they have not; and they are grateful to those only who +are fond of luxury and show. And that is just the reason why they are pleased +by your fluttering wings and delicate shape;—that is why they are kind to +you. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, in this spring season, while you sportively dance through the +gardens of the wealthy, or hover among the beautiful alleys of cherry-trees in +blossom, you say to yourself: ‘Nobody in the world has such pleasure as +I, or such excellent friends. And, in spite of all that people may say, I most +love the peony,—and the golden yellow rose is my own darling, and I will +obey her every least behest; for that is my pride and my delight.’... So +you say. But the opulent and elegant season of flowers is very short: soon they +will fade and fall. Then, in the time of summer heat, there will be green +leaves only; and presently the winds of autumn will blow, when even the leaves +themselves will shower down like rain, <i>parari-parari</i>. And your fate will +then be as the fate of the unlucky in the proverb, <i>Tanomi ki no shita ni amé +furu</i> [Even through the tree upon which I relied for shelter the rain leaks +down]. For you will seek out your old friend, the root-cutting insect, the +grub, and beg him to let you return into your old-time hole;—but now +having wings, you will not be able to enter the hole because of them, and you +will not be able to shelter your body anywhere between heaven and earth, and +all the moor-grass will then have withered, and you will not have even one drop +of dew with which to moisten your tongue,—and there will be nothing left +for you to do but to lie down and die. All because of your light and frivolous +heart—but, ah! how lamentable an end!”... +</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +Most of the Japanese stories about butterflies appear, as I have said, to be of +Chinese origin. But I have one which is probably indigenous; and it seems to me +worth telling for the benefit of persons who believe there is no +“romantic love” in the Far East. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Behind the cemetery of the temple of Sōzanji, in the suburbs of the capital, +there long stood a solitary cottage, occupied by an old man named Takahama. He +was liked in the neighborhood, by reason of his amiable ways; but almost +everybody supposed him to be a little mad. Unless a man take the Buddhist vows, +he is expected to marry, and to bring up a family. But Takahama did not belong +to the religious life; and he could not be persuaded to marry. Neither had he +ever been known to enter into a love-relation with any woman. For more than +fifty years he had lived entirely alone. +</p> + +<p> +One summer he fell sick, and knew that he had not long to live. He then sent +for his sister-in-law, a widow, and for her only son,—a lad of about +twenty years old, to whom he was much attached. Both promptly came, and did +whatever they could to soothe the old man’s last hours. +</p> + +<p> +One sultry afternoon, while the widow and her son were watching at his bedside, +Takahama fell asleep. At the same moment a very large white butterfly entered +the room, and perched upon the sick man’s pillow. The nephew drove it +away with a fan; but it returned immediately to the pillow, and was again +driven away, only to come back a third time. Then the nephew chased it into the +garden, and across the garden, through an open gate, into the cemetery of the +neighboring temple. But it continued to flutter before him as if unwilling to +be driven further, and acted so queerly that he began to wonder whether it was +really a butterfly, or a <i>ma</i><a href="#fn19.16" name="fnref19.16"><sup>[16]</sup></a>. +He again chased it, and followed it far into the cemetery, until he saw it fly +against a tomb,—a woman’s tomb. There it unaccountably disappeared; +and he searched for it in vain. He then examined the monument. It bore the +personal name “Akiko,” (3) together with an unfamiliar family name, +and an inscription stating that Akiko had died at the age of eighteen. +Apparently the tomb had been erected about fifty years previously: moss had +begun to gather upon it. But it had been well cared for: there were fresh +flowers before it; and the water-tank had recently been filled. +</p> + +<p> +On returning to the sick room, the young man was shocked by the announcement +that his uncle had ceased to breathe. Death had come to the sleeper painlessly; +and the dead face smiled. +</p> + +<p> +The young man told his mother of what he had seen in the cemetery. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” exclaimed the widow, “then it must have been +Akiko!”... +</p> + +<p> +“But who was Akiko, mother?” the nephew asked. +</p> + +<p> +The widow answered:— +</p> + +<p> +“When your good uncle was young he was betrothed to a charming girl +called Akiko, the daughter of a neighbor. Akiko died of consumption, only a +little before the day appointed for the wedding; and her promised husband +sorrowed greatly. After Akiko had been buried, he made a vow never to marry; +and he built this little house beside the cemetery, so that he might be always +near her grave. All this happened more than fifty years ago. And every day of +those fifty years—winter and summer alike—your uncle went to the +cemetery, and prayed at the grave, and swept the tomb, and set offerings before +it. But he did not like to have any mention made of the matter; and he never +spoke of it... So, at last, Akiko came for him: the white butterfly was her +soul.” +</p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p> +I had almost forgotten to mention an ancient Japanese dance, called the +Butterfly Dance (<i>Kochō-Mai</i>), which used to be performed in the Imperial +Palace, by dancers costumed as butterflies. Whether it is danced occasionally +nowadays I do not know. It is said to be very difficult to learn. Six dancers +are required for the proper performance of it; and they must move in particular +figures,—obeying traditional rules for every step, pose, or +gesture,—and circling about each other very slowly to the sound of +hand-drums and great drums, small flutes and great flutes, and pandean pipes of +a form unknown to Western Pan. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus02"></a> +<img src="images/img02.jpg" width="545" height="600" alt="[Illustration]" /> +<p class="caption"><small>BUTTERFLY DANCE</small></p> +</div> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a>MOSQUITOES</h2> + +<p> +With a view to self-protection I have been reading Dr. Howard’s book, +“Mosquitoes.” I am persecuted by mosquitoes. There are several +species in my neighborhood; but only one of them is a serious torment,—a +tiny needly thing, all silver-speckled and silver-streaked. The puncture of it +is sharp as an electric burn; and the mere hum of it has a lancinating quality +of tone which foretells the quality of the pain about to come,—much in +the same way that a particular smell suggests a particular taste. I find that +this mosquito much resembles the creature which Dr. Howard calls <i>Stegomyia +fasciata</i>, or <i>Culex fasciatus:</i> and that its habits are the same as +those of the <i>Stegomyia</i>. For example, it is diurnal rather than nocturnal +and becomes most troublesome in the afternoon. And I have discovered that it +comes from the Buddhist cemetery,—a very old cemetery,—in the rear +of my garden. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Dr. Howard’s book declares that, in order to rid a neighborhood of +mosquitoes, it is only necessary to pour a little petroleum, or kerosene oil, +into the stagnant water where they breed. Once a week the oil should be used, +“at the rate of once ounce for every fifteen square feet of +water-surface, and a proportionate quantity for any less surface.” ...But +please to consider the conditions in <i>my</i> neighborhood! +</p> + +<p> +I have said that my tormentors come from the Buddhist cemetery. Before nearly +every tomb in that old cemetery there is a water-receptacle, or cistern, called +<i>mizutamé</i>. In the majority of cases this <i>mizutamé</i> is simply an +oblong cavity chiseled in the broad pedestal supporting the monument; but +before tombs of a costly kind, having no pedestal-tank, a larger separate tank +is placed, cut out of a single block of stone, and decorated with a family +crest, or with symbolic carvings. In front of a tomb of the humblest class, +having no <i>mizutamé</i>, water is placed in cups or other vessels,—for +the dead must have water. Flowers also must be offered to them; and before +every tomb you will find a pair of bamboo cups, or other flower-vessels; and +these, of course, contain water. There is a well in the cemetery to supply +water for the graves. Whenever the tombs are visited by relatives and friends +of the dead, fresh water is poured into the tanks and cups. But as an old +cemetery of this kind contains thousands of <i>mizutamé</i>, and tens of +thousands of flower-vessels the water in all of these cannot be renewed every +day. It becomes stagnant and populous. The deeper tanks seldom get +dry;—the rainfall at Tōkyō being heavy enough to keep them partly filled +during nine months out of the twelve. +</p> + +<p> +Well, it is in these tanks and flower-vessels that mine enemies are born: they +rise by millions from the water of the dead;—and, according to Buddhist +doctrine, some of them may be reincarnations of those very dead, condemned by +the error of former lives to the condition of <i>Jiki-ketsu-gaki</i>, or +blood-drinking pretas.... Anyhow the malevolence of the <i>Culex fasciatus</i> +would justify the suspicion that some wicked human soul had been compressed +into that wailing speck of a body.... +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Now, to return to the subject of kerosene-oil, you can exterminate the +mosquitoes of any locality by covering with a film of kerosene all stagnant +water surfaces therein. The larvae die on rising to breathe; and the adult +females perish when they approach the water to launch their rafts of eggs. And +I read, in Dr. Howard’s book, that the actual cost of freeing from +mosquitoes one American town of fifty thousand inhabitants, does not exceed +three hundred dollars!... +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +I wonder what would be said if the city-government of Tōkyō—which is +aggressively scientific and progressive—were suddenly to command that all +water-surfaces in the Buddhist cemeteries should be covered, at regular +intervals, with a film of kerosene oil! How could the religion which prohibits +the taking of any life—even of invisible life—yield to such a +mandate? Would filial piety even dream of consenting to obey such an order? And +then to think of the cost, in labor and time, of putting kerosene oil, every +seven days, into the millions of <i>mizutamé</i>, and the tens of millions of +bamboo flower-cups, in the Tōkyō graveyards!... Impossible! To free the city +from mosquitoes it would be necessary to demolish the ancient +graveyards;—and that would signify the ruin of the Buddhist temples +attached to them;—and that would mean the disparition of so many charming +gardens, with their lotus-ponds and Sanscrit-lettered monuments and humpy +bridges and holy groves and weirdly-smiling Buddhas! So the extermination of +the <i>Culex fasciatus</i> would involve the destruction of the poetry of the +ancestral cult,—surely too great a price to pay!... +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Besides, I should like, when my time comes, to be laid away in some Buddhist +graveyard of the ancient kind,—so that my ghostly company should be +ancient, caring nothing for the fashions and the changes and the +disintegrations of Meiji (1). That old cemetery behind my garden would be a +suitable place. Everything there is beautiful with a beauty of exceeding and +startling queerness; each tree and stone has been shaped by some old, old ideal +which no longer exists in any living brain; even the shadows are not of this +time and sun, but of a world forgotten, that never knew steam or electricity or +magnetism or—kerosene oil! Also in the boom of the big bell there is a +quaintness of tone which wakens feelings, so strangely far-away from all the +nineteenth-century part of me, that the faint blind stirrings of them make me +afraid,—deliciously afraid. Never do I hear that billowing peal but I +become aware of a striving and a fluttering in the abyssal part of my +ghost,—a sensation as of memories struggling to reach the light beyond +the obscurations of a million million deaths and births. I hope to remain +within hearing of that bell... And, considering the possibility of being doomed +to the state of a <i>Jiki-ketsu-gaki</i>, I want to have my chance of being +reborn in some bamboo flower-cup, or <i>mizutamé</i>, whence I might issue +softly, singing my thin and pungent song, to bite some people that I know. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a>ANTS</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +This morning sky, after the night’s tempest, is a pure and dazzling blue. +The air—the delicious air!—is full of sweet resinous odors, shed +from the countless pine-boughs broken and strewn by the gale. In the +neighboring bamboo-grove I hear the flute-call of the bird that praises the +Sûtra of the Lotos; and the land is very still by reason of the south wind. Now +the summer, long delayed, is truly with us: butterflies of queer Japanese +colors are flickering about; semi (1) are wheezing; wasps are humming; gnats +are dancing in the sun; and the ants are busy repairing their damaged +habitations... I bethink me of a Japanese poem:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Yuku é naki:<br/> +Ari no sumai ya!<br/> + Go-getsu amé. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Now the poor creature has nowhere to go!... Alas for the dwellings of the +ants in this rain of the fifth month!</i>] +</p> + +<p> +But those big black ants in my garden do not seem to need any sympathy. They +have weathered the storm in some unimaginable way, while great trees were being +uprooted, and houses blown to fragments, and roads washed out of existence. +Yet, before the typhoon, they took no other visible precaution than to block up +the gates of their subterranean town. And the spectacle of their triumphant +toil to-day impels me to attempt an essay on Ants. +</p> + +<p> +I should have liked to preface my disquisitions with something from the old +Japanese literature,—something emotional or metaphysical. But all that my +Japanese friends were able to find for me on the subject,—excepting some +verses of little worth,—was Chinese. This Chinese material consisted +chiefly of strange stories; and one of them seems to me worth +quoting,—<i>faute de mieux</i>. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +In the province of Taishū, in China, there was a pious man who, every day, +during many years, fervently worshiped a certain goddess. One morning, while he +was engaged in his devotions, a beautiful woman, wearing a yellow robe, came +into his chamber and stood before him. He, greatly surprised, asked her what +she wanted, and why she had entered unannounced. She answered: “I am not +a woman: I am the goddess whom you have so long and so faithfully worshiped; +and I have now come to prove to you that your devotion has not been in vain... +Are you acquainted with the language of Ants?” The worshiper replied: +“I am only a low-born and ignorant person,—not a scholar; and even +of the language of superior men I know nothing.” At these words the +goddess smiled, and drew from her bosom a little box, shaped like an incense +box. She opened the box, dipped a finger into it, and took therefrom some kind +of ointment with which she anointed the ears of the man. “Now,” she +said to him, “try to find some Ants, and when you find any, stoop down, +and listen carefully to their talk. You will be able to understand it; and you +will hear of something to your advantage... Only remember that you must not +frighten or vex the Ants.” Then the goddess vanished away. +</p> + +<p> +The man immediately went out to look for some Ants. He had scarcely crossed the +threshold of his door when he perceived two Ants upon a stone supporting one of +the house-pillars. He stooped over them, and listened; and he was astonished to +find that he could hear them talking, and could understand what they said. +“Let us try to find a warmer place,” proposed one of the Ants. +“Why a warmer place?” asked the other;—“what is the +matter with this place?” “It is too damp and cold below,” +said the first Ant; “there is a big treasure buried here; and the +sunshine cannot warm the ground about it.” Then the two Ants went away +together, and the listener ran for a spade. +</p> + +<p> +By digging in the neighborhood of the pillar, he soon found a number of large +jars full of gold coin. The discovery of this treasure made him a very rich +man. +</p> + +<p> +Afterwards he often tried to listen to the conversation of Ants. But he was +never again able to hear them speak. The ointment of the goddess had opened his +ears to their mysterious language for only a single day. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +Now I, like that Chinese devotee, must confess myself a very ignorant person, +and naturally unable to hear the conversation of Ants. But the Fairy of Science +sometimes touches my ears and eyes with her wand; and then, for a little time, +I am able to hear things inaudible, and to perceive things imperceptible. +</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +For the same reason that it is considered wicked, in sundry circles, to speak +of a non-Christian people having produced a civilization ethically superior to +our own, certain persons will not be pleased by what I am going to say about +ants. But there are men, incomparably wiser than I can ever hope to be, who +think about insects and civilizations independently of the blessings of +Christianity; and I find encouragement in the new <i>Cambridge Natural +History</i>, which contains the following remarks by Professor David Sharp, +concerning ants:— +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“Observation has revealed the most remarkable phenomena in the lives of +these insects. Indeed we can scarcely avoid the conclusion that they have +acquired, in many respects, the art of living together in societies more +perfectly than our own species has; and that they have anticipated us in the +acquisition of some of the industries and arts that greatly facilitate social +life.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +I suppose that a few well-informed persons will dispute this plain statement by +a trained specialist. The contemporary man of science is not apt to become +sentimental about ants or bees; but he will not hesitate to acknowledge that, +in regard to social evolution, these insects appear to have advanced +“beyond man.” Mr. Herbert Spencer, whom nobody will charge with +romantic tendencies, goes considerably further than Professor Sharp; showing us +that ants are, in a very real sense, <i>ethically</i> as well as economically +in advance of humanity,—their lives being entirely devoted to altruistic +ends. Indeed, Professor Sharp somewhat needlessly qualifies his praise of the +ant with this cautious observation:— +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“The competence of the ant is not like that of man. It is devoted to the +welfare of the species rather than to that of the individual, which is, as it +were, sacrificed or specialized for the benefit of the community.” +</p> + +<p> +—The obvious implication,—that any social state, in which the +improvement of the individual is sacrificed to the common welfare, leaves much +to be desired,—is probably correct, from the actual human standpoint. For +man is yet imperfectly evolved; and human society has much to gain from his +further individualization. But in regard to social insects the implied +criticism is open to question. “The improvement of the individual,” +says Herbert Spencer, “consists in the better fitting of him for social +cooperation; and this, being conducive to social prosperity, is conducive to +the maintenance of the race.” In other words, the value of the individual +can be <i>only</i> in relation to the society; and this granted, whether the +sacrifice of the individual for the sake of that society be good or evil must +depend upon what the society might gain or lose through a further +individualization of its members... But as we shall presently see, the +conditions of ant-society that most deserve our attention are the ethical +conditions; and these are beyond human criticism, since they realize that ideal +of moral evolution described by Mr. Spencer as “a state in which egoism +and altruism are so conciliated that the one merges into the other.” That +is to say, a state in which the only possible pleasure is the pleasure of +unselfish action. Or, again to quote Mr. Spencer, the activities of the +insect-society are “activities which postpone individual well-being so +completely to the well-being of the community that individual life appears to +be attended to only just so far as is necessary to make possible due attention +to social life,... the individual taking only just such food and just such rest +as are needful to maintain its vigor.” +</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +I hope my reader is aware that ants practise horticulture and agriculture; that +they are skillful in the cultivation of mushrooms; that they have domesticated +(according to present knowledge) five hundred and eighty-four different kinds +of animals; that they make tunnels through solid rock; that they know how to +provide against atmospheric changes which might endanger the health of their +children; and that, for insects, their longevity is exceptional,—members +of the more highly evolved species living for a considerable number of years. +</p> + +<p> +But it is not especially of these matters that I wish to speak. What I want to +talk about is the awful propriety, the terrible morality, of the ant<a href="#fn21.1" name="fnref21.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a>. +Our most appalling ideals of conduct fall short of the ethics of the +ant,—as progress is reckoned in time,—by nothing less than millions +of years!... When I say “the ant,” I mean the highest type of +ant,—not, of course, the entire ant-family. About two thousand species of +ants are already known; and these exhibit, in their social organizations, +widely varying degrees of evolution. Certain social phenomena of the greatest +biological importance, and of no less importance in their strange relation to +the subject of ethics, can be studied to advantage only in the existence of the +most highly evolved societies of ants. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +After all that has been written of late years about the probable value of +relative experience in the long life of the ant, I suppose that few persons +would venture to deny individual character to the ant. The intelligence of the +little creature in meeting and overcoming difficulties of a totally new kind, +and in adapting itself to conditions entirely foreign to its experience, proves +a considerable power of independent thinking. But this at least is certain: +that the ant has no individuality capable of being exercised in a purely +selfish direction;—I am using the word “selfish” in its +ordinary acceptation. A greedy ant, a sensual ant, an ant capable of any one of +the seven deadly sins, or even of a small venial sin, is unimaginable. Equally +unimaginable, of course, a romantic ant, an ideological ant, a poetical ant, or +an ant inclined to metaphysical speculations. No human mind could attain to the +absolute matter-of-fact quality of the ant-mind;—no human being, as now +constituted, could cultivate a mental habit so impeccably practical as that of +the ant. But this superlatively practical mind is incapable of moral error. It +would be difficult, perhaps, to prove that the ant has no religious ideas. But +it is certain that such ideas could not be of any use to it. The being +incapable of moral weakness is beyond the need of “spiritual +guidance.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Only in a vague way can we conceive the character of ant-society, and the +nature of ant-morality; and to do even this we must try to imagine some yet +impossible state of human society and human morals. Let us, then, imagine a +world full of people incessantly and furiously working,—all of whom seem +to be women. No one of these women could be persuaded or deluded into taking a +single atom of food more than is needful to maintain her strength; and no one +of them ever sleeps a second longer than is necessary to keep her nervous +system in good working-order. And all of them are so peculiarly constituted +that the least unnecessary indulgence would result in some derangement of +function. +</p> + +<p> +The work daily performed by these female laborers comprises road-making, +bridge-building, timber-cutting, architectural construction of numberless +kinds, horticulture and agriculture, the feeding and sheltering of a hundred +varieties of domestic animals, the manufacture of sundry chemical products, the +storage and conservation of countless food-stuffs, and the care of the children +of the race. All this labor is done for the commonwealth—no citizen of +which is capable even of thinking about “property,” except as a +<i>res publica;</i>—and the sole object of the commonwealth is the +nurture and training of its young,—nearly all of whom are girls. The +period of infancy is long: the children remain for a great while, not only +helpless, but shapeless, and withal so delicate that they must be very +carefully guarded against the least change of temperature. Fortunately their +nurses understand the laws of health: each thoroughly knows all that she ought +to know in regard to ventilation, disinfection, drainage, moisture, and the +danger of germs,—germs being as visible, perhaps, to her myopic sight as +they become to our own eyes under the microscope. Indeed, all matters of +hygiene are so well comprehended that no nurse ever makes a mistake about the +sanitary conditions of her neighborhood. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of this perpetual labor no worker remains unkempt: each is +scrupulously neat, making her toilet many times a day. But as every worker is +born with the most beautiful of combs and brushes attached to her wrists, no +time is wasted in the toilet-room. Besides keeping themselves strictly clean, +the workers must also keep their houses and gardens in faultless order, for the +sake of the children. Nothing less than an earthquake, an eruption, an +inundation, or a desperate war, is allowed to interrupt the daily routine of +dusting, sweeping, scrubbing, and disinfecting. +</p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p> +Now for stranger facts:— +</p> + +<p> +This world of incessant toil is a more than Vestal world. It is true that males +can sometimes be perceived in it; but they appear only at particular seasons, +and they have nothing whatever to do with the workers or with the work. None of +them would presume to address a worker,—except, perhaps, under +extraordinary circumstances of common peril. And no worker would think of +talking to a male;—for males, in this queer world, are inferior beings, +equally incapable of fighting or working, and tolerated only as necessary +evils. One special class of females,—the Mothers-Elect of the +race,—do condescend to consort with males, during a very brief period, at +particular seasons. But the Mothers-Elect do not work; and they <i>must</i> +accept husbands. A worker could not even dream of keeping company with a +male,—not merely because such association would signify the most +frivolous waste of time, nor yet because the worker necessarily regards all +males with unspeakable contempt; but because the worker is incapable of +wedlock. Some workers, indeed, are capable of parthenogenesis, and give birth +to children who never had fathers. As a general rule, however, the worker is +truly feminine by her moral instincts only: she has all the tenderness, the +patience, and the foresight that we call “maternal;” but her sex +has disappeared, like the sex of the Dragon-Maiden in the Buddhist legend. +</p> + +<p> +For defense against creatures of prey, or enemies of the state, the workers are +provided with weapons; and they are furthermore protected by a large military +force. The warriors are so much bigger than the workers (in some communities, +at least) that it is difficult, at first sight, to believe them of the same +race. Soldiers one hundred times larger than the workers whom they guard are +not uncommon. But all these soldiers are Amazons,—or, more correctly +speaking, semi-females. They can work sturdily; but being built for fighting +and for heavy pulling chiefly, their usefulness is restricted to those +directions in which force, rather than skill, is required. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +[Why females, rather than males, should have been evolutionally specialized +into soldiery and laborers may not be nearly so simple a question as it +appears. I am very sure of not being able to answer it. But natural economy may +have decided the matter. In many forms of life, the female greatly exceeds the +male in bulk and in energy;—perhaps, in this case, the larger reserve of +life-force possessed originally by the complete female could be more rapidly +and effectively utilized for the development of a special fighting-caste. All +energies which, in the fertile female, would be expended in the giving of life +seem here to have been diverted to the evolution of aggressive power, or +working-capacity.] +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Of the true females,—the Mothers-Elect,—there are very few indeed; +and these are treated like queens. So constantly and so reverentially are they +waited upon that they can seldom have any wishes to express. They are relieved +from every care of existence,—except the duty of bearing offspring. Night +and day they are cared for in every possible manner. They alone are +superabundantly and richly fed:—for the sake of the offspring they must +eat and drink and repose right royally; and their physiological specialization +allows of such indulgence <i>ad libitum</i>. They seldom go out, and never +unless attended by a powerful escort; as they cannot be permitted to incur +unnecessary fatigue or danger. Probably they have no great desire to go out. +Around them revolves the whole activity of the race: all its intelligence and +toil and thrift are directed solely toward the well-being of these Mothers and +of their children. +</p> + +<p> +But last and least of the race rank the husbands of these Mothers,—the +necessary Evils,—the males. They appear only at a particular season, as I +have already observed; and their lives are very short. Some cannot even boast +of noble descent, though destined to royal wedlock; for they are not royal +offspring, but virgin-born,—parthenogenetic children,—and, for that +reason especially, inferior beings, the chance results of some mysterious +atavism. But of any sort of males the commonwealth tolerates but +few,—barely enough to serve as husbands for the Mothers-Elect, and these +few perish almost as soon as their duty has been done. The meaning of +Nature’s law, in this extraordinary world, is identical with +Ruskin’s teaching that life without effort is crime; and since the males +are useless as workers or fighters, their existence is of only momentary +importance. They are not, indeed, sacrificed,—like the Aztec victim +chosen for the festival of Tezcatlipoca, and allowed a honeymoon of twenty days +before his heart was torn out. But they are scarcely less unfortunate in their +high fortune. Imagine youths brought up in the knowledge that they are destined +to become royal bridegrooms for a single night,—that after their bridal +they will have no moral right to live,—that marriage, for each and all of +them, will signify certain death,—and that they cannot even hope to be +lamented by their young widows, who will survive them for a time of many +generations...! +</p> + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p> +But all the foregoing is no more than a proem to the real “Romance of the +Insect-World.” +</p> + +<p> +—By far the most startling discovery in relation to this astonishing +civilization is that of the suppression of sex. In certain advanced forms of +ant-life sex totally disappears in the majority of individuals;—in nearly +all the higher ant-societies sex-life appears to exist only to the extent +absolutely needed for the continuance of the species. But the biological fact +in itself is much less startling than the ethical suggestion which it +offers;—<i>for this practical suppression, or regulation, of sex-faculty +appears to be voluntary!</i> Voluntary, at least, so far as the species is +concerned. It is now believed that these wonderful creatures have learned how +to develop, or to arrest the development, of sex in their young,—by some +particular mode of nutrition. They have succeeded in placing under perfect +control what is commonly supposed to be the most powerful and unmanageable of +instincts. And this rigid restraint of sex-life to within the limits necessary +to provide against extinction is but one (though the most amazing) of many +vital economies effected by the race. Every capacity for egoistic +pleasure—in the common meaning of the word +“egoistic”—has been equally repressed through physiological +modification. No indulgence of any natural appetite is possible except to that +degree in which such indulgence can directly or indirectly benefit the +species;—even the indispensable requirements of food and sleep being +satisfied only to the exact extent necessary for the maintenance of healthy +activity. The individual can exist, act, think, only for the communal good; and +the commune triumphantly refuses, in so far as cosmic law permits, to let +itself be ruled either by Love or Hunger. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Most of us have been brought up in the belief that without some kind of +religious creed—some hope of future reward or fear of future +punishment—no civilization could exist. We have been taught to think that +in the absence of laws based upon moral ideas, and in the absence of an +effective police to enforce such laws, nearly everybody would seek only his or +her personal advantage, to the disadvantage of everybody else. The strong would +then destroy the weak; pity and sympathy would disappear; and the whole social +fabric would fall to pieces... These teachings confess the existing +imperfection of human nature; and they contain obvious truth. But those who +first proclaimed that truth, thousands and thousands of years ago, never +imagined a form of social existence in which selfishness would be +<i>naturally</i> impossible. It remained for irreligious Nature to furnish us +with proof positive that there can exist a society in which the pleasure of +active beneficence makes needless the idea of duty,—a society in which +instinctive morality can dispense with ethical codes of every sort,—a +society of which every member is born so absolutely unselfish, and so +energetically good, that moral training could signify, even for its youngest, +neither more nor less than waste of precious time. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +To the Evolutionist such facts necessarily suggest that the value of our moral +idealism is but temporary; and that something better than virtue, better than +kindness, better than self-denial,—in the present human meaning of those +terms,—might, under certain conditions, eventually replace them. He finds +himself obliged to face the question whether a world without moral notions +might not be morally better than a world in which conduct is regulated by such +notions. He must even ask himself whether the existence of religious +commandments, moral laws, and ethical standards among ourselves does not prove +us still in a very primitive stage of social evolution. And these questions +naturally lead up to another: Will humanity ever be able, on this planet, to +reach an ethical condition beyond all its ideals,—a condition in which +everything that we now call evil will have been atrophied out of existence, and +everything that we call virtue have been transmuted into instinct;—a +state of altruism in which ethical concepts and codes will have become as +useless as they would be, even now, in the societies of the higher ants. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +The giants of modern thought have given some attention to this question; and +the greatest among them has answered it—partly in the affirmative. +Herbert Spencer has expressed his belief that humanity will arrive at some +state of civilization ethically comparable with that of the ant:— +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“If we have, in lower orders of creatures, cases in which the nature is +constitutionally so modified that altruistic activities have become one with +egoistic activities, there is an irresistible implication that a parallel +identification will, under parallel conditions, take place among human beings. +Social insects furnish us with instances completely to the point,—and +instances showing us, indeed, to what a marvelous degree the life of the +individual may be absorbed in subserving the lives of other individuals... +Neither the ant nor the bee can be supposed to have a sense of duty, in the +acceptation we give to that word; nor can it be supposed that it is continually +undergoing self-sacrifice, in the ordinary acceptation of that word... [The +facts] show us that it is within the possibilities of organization to produce a +nature which shall be just as energetic in the pursuit of altruistic ends, as +is in other cases shown in the pursuit of egoistic ends;—and they show +that, in such cases, these altruistic ends are pursued in pursuing ends which, +on their other face, are egoistic. For the satisfaction of the needs of the +organization, these actions, conducive to the welfare of others, <i>must</i> be +carried on... +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +“So far from its being true that there must go on, throughout all the +future, a condition in which self-regard is to be continually subjected by the +regard for others, it will, contrari-wise, be the case that a regard for others +will eventually become so large a source of pleasure as to overgrow the +pleasure which is derivable from direct egoistic gratification... Eventually, +then, there will come also a state in which egoism and altruism are so +conciliated that the one merges in the other.” +</p> + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p> +Of course the foregoing prediction does not imply that human nature will ever +undergo such physiological change as would be represented by structural +specializations comparable to those by which the various castes of insect +societies are differentiated. We are not bidden to imagine a future state of +humanity in which the active majority would consist of semi-female workers and +Amazons toiling for an inactive minority of selected Mothers. Even in his +chapter, “Human Population in the Future,” Mr. Spencer has +attempted no detailed statement of the physical modifications inevitable to the +production of higher moral types,—though his general statement in regard +to a perfected nervous system, and a great diminution of human fertility, +suggests that such moral evolution would signify a very considerable amount of +physical change. If it be legitimate to believe in a future humanity to which +the pleasure of mutual beneficence will represent the whole joy of life, would +it not also be legitimate to imagine other transformations, physical and moral, +which the facts of insect-biology have proved to be within the range of +evolutional possibility?... I do not know. I most worshipfully reverence +Herbert Spencer as the greatest philosopher who has yet appeared in this world; +and I should be very sorry to write down anything contrary to his teaching, in +such wise that the reader could imagine it to have been inspired by Synthetic +Philosophy. For the ensuing reflections, I alone am responsible; and if I err, +let the sin be upon my own head. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +I suppose that the moral transformations predicted by Mr. Spencer, could be +effected only with the aid of physiological change, and at a terrible cost. +Those ethical conditions manifested by insect-societies can have been reached +only through effort desperately sustained for millions of years against the +most atrocious necessities. Necessities equally merciless may have to be met +and mastered eventually by the human race. Mr. Spencer has shown that the time +of the greatest possible human suffering is yet to come, and that it will be +concomitant with the period of the greatest possible pressure of population. +Among other results of that long stress, I understand that there will be a vast +increase in human intelligence and sympathy; and that this increase of +intelligence will be effected at the cost of human fertility. But this decline +in reproductive power will not, we are told, be sufficient to assure the very +highest of social conditions: it will only relieve that pressure of population +which has been the main cause of human suffering. The state of perfect social +equilibrium will be approached, but never quite reached, by mankind— +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +<i>Unless there be discovered some means of solving economic problems, just as +social insects have solved them, by the suppression of sex-life</i>. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Supposing that such a discovery were made, and that the human race should +decide to arrest the development of sex in the majority of its young,—so +as to effect a transferrence of those forces, now demanded by sex-life to the +development of higher activities,—might not the result be an eventual +state of polymorphism, like that of ants? And, in such event, might not the +Coming Race be indeed represented in its higher types,—through feminine +rather than masculine evolution,—by a majority of beings of neither sex? +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Considering how many persons, even now, through merely unselfish (not to speak +of religious) motives, sentence themselves to celibacy, it should not appear +improbable that a more highly evolved humanity would cheerfully sacrifice a +large proportion of its sex-life for the common weal, particularly in view of +certain advantages to be gained. Not the least of such advantages—always +supposing that mankind were able to control sex-life after the natural manner +of the ants—would be a prodigious increase of longevity. The higher types +of a humanity superior to sex might be able to realize the dream of life for a +thousand years. +</p> + +<p> +Already we find lives too short for the work we have to do; and with the +constantly accelerating progress of discovery, and the never-ceasing expansion +of knowledge, we shall certainly find more and more reason to regret, as time +goes on, the brevity of existence. That Science will ever discover the Elixir +of the Alchemists’ hope is extremely unlikely. The Cosmic Powers will not +allow us to cheat them. For every advantage which they yield us the full price +must be paid: nothing for nothing is the everlasting law. Perhaps the price of +long life will prove to be the price that the ants have paid for it. Perhaps, +upon some elder planet, that price has already been paid, and the power to +produce offspring restricted to a caste morphologically differentiated, in +unimaginable ways, from the rest of the species... +</p> + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p> +But while the facts of insect-biology suggest so much in regard to the future +course of human evolution, do they not also suggest something of largest +significance concerning the relation of ethics to cosmic law? Apparently, the +highest evolution will not be permitted to creatures capable of what human +moral experience has in all areas condemned. Apparently, the highest possible +strength is the strength of unselfishness; and power supreme never will be +accorded to cruelty or to lust. There may be no gods; but the forces that shape +and dissolve all forms of being would seem to be much more exacting than gods. +To prove a “dramatic tendency” in the ways of the stars is not +possible; but the cosmic process seems nevertheless to affirm the worth of +every human system of ethics fundamentally opposed to human egoism. +</p> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a>Notes</h2> + +<h3>THE STORY OF MIMI-NASHI-HŌÏCHI</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn1.1"></a> <a href="#fnref1.1">[1]</a> +See my <i>Kottō</i>, for a description of these curious crabs. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn1.2"></a> <a href="#fnref1.2">[2]</a> +Or, Shimonoséki. The town is also known by the name of Bakkan. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn1.3"></a> <a href="#fnref1.3">[3]</a> +The <i>biwa</i>, a kind of four-stringed lute, is chiefly used in musical +recitative. Formerly the professional minstrels who recited the +<i>Heiké-Monogatari</i>, and other tragical histories, were called +<i>biwa-hōshi</i>, or “lute-priests.” The origin of this +appellation is not clear; but it is possible that it may have been suggested by +the fact that “lute-priests” as well as blind shampooers, had their +heads shaven, like Buddhist priests. The <i>biwa</i> is played with a kind of +plectrum, called <i>bachi</i>, usually made of horn. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(1) A response to show that one has heard and is listening attentively. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn1.4"></a> <a href="#fnref1.4">[4]</a> +A respectful term, signifying the opening of a gate. It was used by samurai +when calling to the guards on duty at a lord’s gate for admission. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn1.5"></a> <a href="#fnref1.5">[5]</a> +Or the phrase might be rendered, “for the pity of that part is the +deepest.” The Japanese word for pity in the original text is +“<i>awaré</i>.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn1.6"></a> <a href="#fnref1.6">[6]</a> +“Traveling incognito” is at least the meaning of the original +phrase,—“making a disguised august-journey” (<i>shinobi no +go-ryokō</i>). +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn1.7"></a> <a href="#fnref1.7">[7]</a> +The Smaller Pragña-Pâramitâ-Hridaya-Sûtra is thus called in Japanese. Both the +smaller and larger sûtras called Pragña-Pâramitâ (“Transcendent +Wisdom”) have been translated by the late Professor Max Müller, and can +be found in volume xlix. of the <i>Sacred Books of the East</i> +(“Buddhist Mahayana Sûtras”).—Apropos of the magical use of +the text, as described in this story, it is worth remarking that the subject of +the sûtra is the Doctrine of the Emptiness of Forms,—that is to say, of +the unreal character of all phenomena or noumena... “Form is emptiness; +and emptiness is form. Emptiness is not different from form; form is not +different from emptiness. What is form—that is emptiness. What is +emptiness—that is form... Perception, name, concept, and knowledge, are +also emptiness... There is no eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind... But +when the envelopment of consciousness has been annihilated, then he [<i>the +seeker</i>] becomes free from all fear, and beyond the reach of change, +enjoying final Nirvana.” +</p> + +<h3>OSHIDORI</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.1"></a> <a href="#fnref2.1">[1]</a> +From ancient time, in the Far East, these birds have been regarded as +emblems of conjugal affection. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn2.2"></a> <a href="#fnref2.2">[2]</a> +There is a pathetic double meaning in the third verse; for the syllables +composing the proper name <i>Akanuma</i> (“Red Marsh”) may also be +read as <i>akanu-ma</i>, signifying “the time of our inseparable (or +delightful) relation.” So the poem can also be thus +rendered:—“When the day began to fail, I had invited him to +accompany me...! Now, after the time of that happy relation, what misery for +the one who must slumber alone in the shadow of the rushes!”—The +<i>makomo</i> is a short of large rush, used for making baskets. +</p> + +<h3>THE STORY OF O-TEI</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +(1) “-sama” is a polite suffix attached to personal names. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(2) A Buddhist term commonly used to signify a kind of heaven. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.1"></a> <a href="#fnref3.1">[1]</a> +The Buddhist term <i>zokumyō</i> (“profane name”) signifies the +personal name, borne during life, in contradistinction to the <i>kaimyō</i> +(“sila-name”) or <i>homyō</i> (“Law-name”) given after +death,—religious posthumous appellations inscribed upon the tomb, and +upon the mortuary tablet in the parish-temple.—For some account of these, +see my paper entitled, “The Literature of the Dead,” in <i>Exotics +and Retrospectives</i>. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn3.2"></a> <a href="#fnref3.2">[2]</a> +Buddhist household shrine. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(3) Direct translation of a Japanese form of address used toward young, +unmarried women. +</p> + +<h3>DIPLOMACY</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +(1) The spacious house and grounds of a wealthy person is thus called. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(2) A Buddhist service for the dead. +</p> + +<h3>OF A MIRROR AND A BELL</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +(1) Part of present-day Shizuoka Prefecture. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(2) The two-hour period between 1 AM and 3 AM. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(3) A monetary unit. +</p> + +<h3>JIKININKI</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +(1) The southern part of present-day Gifu Prefecture. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn7.1"></a> <a href="#fnref7.1">[1]</a> +Literally, a man-eating goblin. The Japanese narrator gives also the +Sanscrit term, “Râkshasa;” but this word is quite as vague as +<i>jikininki</i>, since there are many kinds of Râkshasas. Apparently the word +<i>jikininki</i> signifies here one of the +<i>Baramon-Rasetsu-Gaki</i>,—forming the twenty-sixth class of pretas +enumerated in the old Buddhist books. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn7.2"></a> <a href="#fnref7.2">[2]</a> +A <i>Ségaki</i>-service is a special Buddhist service performed on behalf of +beings supposed to have entered into the condition of <i>gaki</i> (pretas), or +hungry spirits. For a brief account of such a service, see my <i>Japanese +Miscellany</i>. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn7.3"></a> <a href="#fnref7.3">[3]</a> +Literally, “five-circle [or five-zone] stone.” A funeral monument +consisting of five parts superimposed,—each of a different +form,—symbolizing the five mystic elements: Ether, Air, Fire, Water, +Earth. +</p> + +<h3>MUJINA</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +(1) A kind of badger. Certain animals were thought to be able to transform +themselves and cause mischief for humans. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn8.1"></a> <a href="#fnref8.1">[1]</a> +O-jochū (“honorable damsel”), a polite form of address used in +speaking to a young lady whom one does not know. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(2) An apparition with a smooth, totally featureless face, called a +“nopperabo,” is a stock part of the Japanese pantheon of ghosts and +demons. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn8.2"></a> <a href="#fnref8.2">[2]</a> +Soba is a preparation of buckwheat, somewhat resembling vermicelli. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(3) An exclamation of annoyed alarm. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(4) Well! +</p> + +<h3>ROKURO-KUBI</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn9.1"></a> <a href="#fnref9.1">[1]</a> +The period of Eikyō lasted from 1429 to 1441. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn9.2"></a> <a href="#fnref9.2">[2]</a> +The upper robe of a Buddhist priest is thus called. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(1) Present-day Yamanashi Prefecture. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(2) A term for itinerant priests. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn9.3"></a> <a href="#fnref9.3">[3]</a> +A sort of little fireplace, contrived in the floor of a room, is thus +described. The <i>ro</i> is usually a square shallow cavity, lined with metal +and half-filled with ashes, in which charcoal is lighted. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(3) Direct translation of “suzumushi,” a kind of cricket with a +distinctive chirp like a tiny bell, whence the name. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(4) Now a rokuro-kubi is ordinarily conceived as a goblin whose neck stretches +out to great lengths, but which nevertheless always remains attached to its +body. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(5) A Chinese collection of stories on the supernatural. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn9.4"></a> <a href="#fnref9.4">[4]</a> +A present made to friends or to the household on returning from a journey is +thus called. Ordinarily, of course, the <i>miyagé</i> consists of something +produced in the locality to which the journey has been made: this is the point +of Kwairyō’s jest. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(6) Present-day Nagano Prefecture. +</p> + +<h3>A DEAD SECRET</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +(1) On the present-day map, Tamba corresponds roughly to the central area of +Kyōto Prefecture and part of Hyogo Prefecture. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn10.1"></a> <a href="#fnref10.1">[1]</a> +The Hour of the Rat (<i>Né-no-Koku</i>), according to the old Japanese method +of reckoning time, was the first hour. It corresponded to the time between our +midnight and two o’clock in the morning; for the ancient Japanese hours +were each equal to two modern hours. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn10.2"></a> <a href="#fnref10.2">[2]</a> +<i>Kaimyō</i>, the posthumous Buddhist name, or religious name, given to the +dead. Strictly speaking, the meaning of the word is sila-name. (See my paper +entitled, “The Literature of the Dead” in <i>Exotics and +Retrospectives</i>.) +</p> + +<h3>YUKI-ONNA</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +(1) An ancient province whose boundaries took in most of present-day Tōkyō, and +parts of Saitama and Kanagawa prefectures. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn11.1"></a> <a href="#fnref11.1">[1]</a> +That is to say, with a floor-surface of about six feet square. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn11.2"></a> <a href="#fnref11.2">[2]</a> +This name, signifying “Snow,” is not uncommon. On the subject of +Japanese female names, see my paper in the volume entitled <i>Shadowings</i>. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(2) Also spelled Edo, the former name of Tōkyō. +</p> + +<h3>THE STORY OF AOYAGI</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +(1) An ancient province corresponding to the northern part of present-day +Ishikawa Prefecture. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(2) An ancient province corresponding to the eastern part of present-day Fukui +Prefecture. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn12.1"></a> <a href="#fnref12.1">[1]</a> +The name signifies “Green Willow;”—though rarely met with, it +is still in use. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn12.2"></a> <a href="#fnref12.2">[2]</a> +The poem may be read in two ways; several of the phrases having a double +meaning. But the art of its construction would need considerable space to +explain, and could scarcely interest the Western reader. The meaning which +Tomotada desired to convey might be thus expressed:—“While +journeying to visit my mother, I met with a being lovely as a flower; and for +the sake of that lovely person, I am passing the day here... Fair one, +wherefore that dawn-like blush before the hour of dawn?—can it mean that +you love me?” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn12.3"></a> <a href="#fnref12.3">[3]</a> +Another reading is possible; but this one gives the signification of the +<i>answer</i> intended. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn12.4"></a> <a href="#fnref12.4">[4]</a> +So the Japanese story-teller would have us believe,—although the verses +seem commonplace in translation. I have tried to give only their general +meaning: an effective literal translation would require some scholarship. +</p> + +<h3>JIU-ROKU-ZAKURA</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +(1) Present-day Ehime Prefecture. +</p> + +<h3>THE DREAM OF AKINOSUKÉ</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +(1) Present-day Nara Prefecture. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn14.1"></a> <a href="#fnref14.1">[1]</a> +This name “Tokoyo” is indefinite. According to circumstances it may +signify any unknown country,—or that undiscovered country from whose +bourn no traveler returns,—or that Fairyland of far-eastern fable, the +Realm of Hōrai. The term “Kokuō” means the ruler of a +country,—therefore a king. The original phrase, <i>Tokoyo no Kokuō</i>, +might be rendered here as “the Ruler of Hōrai,” or “the King +of Fairyland.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn14.2"></a> <a href="#fnref14.2">[2]</a> +The last phrase, according to old custom, had to be uttered by both attendants +at the same time. All these ceremonial observances can still be studied on the +Japanese stage. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn14.3"></a> <a href="#fnref14.3">[3]</a> +This was the name given to the estrade, or dais, upon which a feudal prince +or ruler sat in state. The term literally signifies “great seat.” +</p> + +<h3>RIKI-BAKA</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +(1) Kana: the Japanese phonetic alphabet. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(2) “So-and-so”: appellation used by Hearn in place of the real +name. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(3) A section of Tōkyō. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn15.1"></a> <a href="#fnref15.1">[1]</a> +A square piece of cotton-goods, or other woven material, used as a wrapper in +which to carry small packages. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(4) Ten yen is nothing now, but was a formidable sum then. +</p> + +<h3> INSECT STUDIES </h3> + +<h3>BUTTERFLIES</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +(1) Haiku. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19.1"></a> <a href="#fnref19.1">[1]</a> +“The modest nymph beheld her God, and blushed.” (Or, in a more +familiar rendering: “The modest water saw its God, and blushed.”) +In this line the double value of the word <i>nympha</i>—used by classical +poets both in the meaning of fountain and in that of the divinity of a +fountain, or spring—reminds one of that graceful playing with words which +Japanese poets practice. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19.2"></a> <a href="#fnref19.2">[2]</a> +More usually written <i>nugi-kakéru</i>, which means either “to take off +and hang up,” or “to begin to take off,”—as in the +above poem. More loosely, but more effectively, the verses might thus be +rendered: “Like a woman slipping off her haori—that is the +appearance of a butterfly.” One must have seen the Japanese garment +described, to appreciate the comparison. The haori is a silk +upper-dress,—a kind of sleeved cloak,—worn by both sexes; but the +poem suggests a woman’s <i>haori</i>, which is usually of richer color or +material. The sleeves are wide; and the lining is usually of brightly-colored +silk, often beautifully variegated. In taking off the haori, the brilliant +lining is displayed,—and at such an instant the fluttering splendor might +well be likened to the appearance of a butterfly in motion. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19.3"></a> <a href="#fnref19.3">[3]</a> +The bird-catcher’s pole is smeared with bird-lime; and the verses suggest +that the insect is preventing the man from using his pole, by persistently +getting in the way of it,—as the birds might take warning from seeing the +butterfly limed. <i>Jama suru</i> means “to hinder” or +“prevent.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19.4"></a> <a href="#fnref19.4">[4]</a> +Even while it is resting, the wings of the butterfly may be seen to quiver at +moments,—as if the creature were dreaming of flight. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19.5"></a> <a href="#fnref19.5">[5]</a> +A little poem by Bashō, greatest of all Japanese composers of <i>hokku</i>. The +verses are intended to suggest the joyous feeling of spring-time. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19.6"></a> <a href="#fnref19.6">[6]</a> +Literally, “a windless day;” but two negatives in Japanese poetry +do not necessarily imply an affirmative, as in English. The meaning is, that +although there is no wind, the fluttering motion of the butterflies suggests, +to the eyes at least, that a strong breeze is playing. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19.7"></a> <a href="#fnref19.7">[7]</a> +Alluding to the Buddhist proverb: <i>Rakkwa éda ni kaërazu; ha-kyō futatabi +terasazu</i> (“The fallen flower returns not to the branch; the broken +mirror never again reflects.”) So says the proverb—yet it seemed to +me that I saw a fallen flower return to the branch... No: it was only a +butterfly. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19.8"></a> <a href="#fnref19.8">[8]</a> +Alluding probably to the light fluttering motion of falling cherry-petals. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19.9"></a> <a href="#fnref19.9">[9]</a> +That is to say, the grace of their motion makes one think of the grace of young +girls, daintily costumed, in robes with long fluttering sleeves... And old +Japanese proverb declares that even a devil is pretty at eighteen: <i>Oni mo +jiu-hachi azami no hana:</i> “Even a devil at eighteen, +flower-of-the-thistle.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19.10"></a> <a href="#fnref19.10">[10]</a> +Or perhaps the verses might be more effectively rendered thus: “Happy +together, do you say? Yes—if we should be reborn as field-butterflies in +some future life: then we might accord!” This poem was composed by the +celebrated poet Issa, on the occasion of divorcing his wife. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19.11"></a> <a href="#fnref19.11">[11]</a> +Or, <i>Taré no tama?</i> +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19.12"></a> <a href="#fnref19.12">[12]</a> +Literally, “Butterfly-pursuing heart I wish to have +always;”—<i>i.e.</i>, I would that I might always be able to find +pleasure in simple things, like a happy child. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19.13"></a> <a href="#fnref19.13">[13]</a> +An old popular error,—probably imported from China. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19.14"></a> <a href="#fnref19.14">[14]</a> +A name suggested by the resemblance of the larva’s artificial covering to +the <i>mino</i>, or straw-raincoat, worn by Japanese peasants. I am not sure +whether the dictionary rendering, “basket-worm,” is quite +correct;—but the larva commonly called <i>minomushi</i> does really +construct for itself something much like the covering of the basket-worm. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(2) A very large, white radish. “Daikon” literally means “big +root.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19.15"></a> <a href="#fnref19.15">[15]</a> +<i>Pyrus spectabilis</i>. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn19.16"></a> <a href="#fnref19.16">[16]</a> +An evil spirit. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(3) A common female name. +</p> + +<h3>MOSQUITOES</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +(1) Meiji: The period in which Hearn wrote this book. It lasted from 1868 to +1912, and was a time when Japan plunged head-first into Western-style +modernization. By the “fashions and the changes and the disintegrations +of Meiji” Hearn is lamenting that this process of modernization was +destroying some of the good things in traditional Japanese culture. +</p> + +<h3>ANTS</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +(1) Cicadas. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn21.1"></a> <a href="#fnref21.1">[1]</a> +An interesting fact in this connection is that the Japanese word for ant, +<i>ari</i>, is represented by an ideograph formed of the character for +“insect” combined with the character signifying “moral +rectitude,” “propriety” (<i>giri</i>). So the Chinese +character actually means “The Propriety-Insect.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1210 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> + |