CHAPTER XVIII: THE PEONY LANTERN[1]

[1]Chapter VII.: "Legend in Japanese Art."

[2]Things Japanese, by Professor B. H. Chamberlain.

Tsuyu ("Morning Dew") was the only daughter of Iijima. When her father married again she found she could not live happily with her stepmother, and a separate house was built for her, where she lived with her servant-maid Yoné.

One day Tsuyu received a visit from the family physician, Yamamoto Shijō accompanied by a handsome youngsamurainamed Hagiwara Shinzaburō. These young people fell in love with each other, and at parting Tsuyu whispered to Shinzaburō: "Remember! if you do not come to see me again I shall certainly die!"

Shinzaburō had every intention of seeing the fair Tsuyu as frequently as possible. Etiquette, however, would not allow him to visit her alone, so that he was compelled to rely on the old doctor's promise to take him to the villa where his loved one lived. The old doctor, however, having seen more than the young people had supposed, purposely refrained from keeping his promise.

Tsuyu, believing that the handsome youngsamuraihad proved unfaithful, slowly pined away and died. Her faithful servant Yoné also died soon afterwards, being unable to live without her mistress, and they were buried side by side in the cemetery of Shin-Banzui-In.

Shortly after this sad event had taken place the olddoctor called upon Shinzaburō and gave him full particulars of the death of Tsuyu and her maid.

Shinzaburō recognised Tsuyu and her maid Yoné

Shinzaburō felt the blow keenly. Night and day the girl was in his thoughts. He inscribed her name upon a mortuary tablet, placed offerings before it, and repeated many prayers.

When the first day of the Festival of the Dead[2]arrived he set food on the Shelf of Souls and hung out lanterns to guide the spirits during their brief earthly sojourn. As the night was warm and the moon at her full, he sat in his verandah and waited. He felt that all these preparations would not be in vain, and in his heart he believed that the soul of Tsuyu would come to him.

Suddenly the stillness was broken by the sound ofkara-kon,kara-kon, the soft patter of women'sgeta. There was something strange and haunting about the sound. Shinzaburō rose and peeped over the hedge. He saw two women. One was carrying a long-shaped lantern with silk peonies stuck in at the upper end; the other wore a lovely robe covered with designs of autumnal blossom. In another moment he recognised the sweet figure of Tsuyu and her maid Yoné.

When Yoné had explained that the wicked old doctor had told them that Shinzaburō was dead, and the youngsamuraihad likewise informed his visitors that he, too, had learnt from the same source that his loved one and her maid had departed this life, the two women entered the house, and remained there that night, returning home a little before sunrise. Night after night they came in this mysterious manner, and always Yoné carried the shining peony-lantern, always she and her mistress departed at the same hour.

One night Tomozō, one of Shinzaburō's servants, who lived next door to his master, chanced to hear the sound of a woman's voice in his lord's apartment. He peeped through a crack in one of the sliding doors, and perceived by the night-lantern within the room that his master was talking with a strange woman under the mosquito-net. Their conversation was so extraordinary that Tomozō was determined to see the woman's face. When he succeeded in doing so his hair stood on end and he trembled violently, for he saw the face of a dead woman, a woman long dead. There was no flesh on her fingers, for what had once been fingers were now a bunch of jangling bones. Only the upper part of her body had substance; below her waist there was but a dim, moving shadow. While Tomozō gazed with horror upon such a revolting scene a second woman's figure sprang up from within the room. She made for the chink and for Tomozō's eye behind it. With a shriek of terror the spying Tomozō fled to the house of Hakuōdō Yusai.

Now Yusai was a man well versed in all manner of mysteries; but nevertheless Tomozō's story made considerable impression upon him, and he listened to every detail with the utmost amazement. When the servant had finished his account of the affair Yusai informed him that his master was a doomed man if the woman proved to be a ghost, that love between the living and the dead ended in the destruction of the living.

However, apart from critically examining this strange event, Yusai took practical steps to rescue this youngsamuraifrom so horrible a fate. The next morning he discussed the matter with Shinzaburō, and told him pretty clearly that he had been loving a ghost, and that the sooner he got rid of that ghost the better it would be for him. He ended his discourse by advising the youth to go to the district of Shitaya, in Yanaka-no-Sasaki, the place where these women had said they lived.

Shinzaburō carried out Yusai's advice, but nowhere in the quarter of Yanaka-no-Sasaki could he find the dwelling-place of Tsuyu. On his return home he happened to pass through the temple Shin-Banzui-In. There he saw two tombs placed side by side, one of no distinction, and the other large and handsome, adorned with a peony-lantern swinging gently in the breeze. Shinzaburō remembered that this lantern and the one carried by Yoné were identical, and an acolyte informed him that the tombs were those of Tsuyu and Yoné. Then it was that he realised the strange meaning of Yoné's words: "We went away, and found a very small house in Yanaka-no-Sasaki. There we are now just barely able to live by doing a little private work." Their house, then, was a grave. The ghost of Yoné carried the peony-lantern, and the ghost of Tsuyu wound her fleshless arms about the neck of the youngsamurai.

Shinzaburō, now fully aware of the horror of the situation, hastily retraced his steps and sought counsel from the wise, far-seeing Yusai. This learned man confessed his inability to help him further in the matter, but advised him to go to the high-priest Ryōseki, ofShin-Banzui-In, and gave him a letter explaining what had taken place.

Ryōseki listened unmoved to Shinzaburō's story, for he had heard so many bearing on the same theme, the evil power of Karma. He gave the young man a small gold image of Buddha, which he instructed him to wear next his skin, telling him that it would protect the living from the dead. He also gave him a holysutra, called "Treasure-Raining Sutra," which he was commended to recite in his house every night; and lastly he gave him a bundle of sacred texts. Each holy strip he was to paste over an opening in his house.

By nightfall everything was in order in Shinzaburō's house. All the apertures were covered with sacred texts, and the air resounded with the recitation of the "Treasure-Raining Sutra," while the little gold Buddha swayed upon thesamurai'sbreast. But somehow or other peace did not come to Shinzaburō that night. Sleep refused to close his weary eyes, and just as a temple bell ceased booming he heard the oldkaran-koron, karan-koron—the patter of ghostlygeta! Then the sound ceased. Fear and joy battled within Shinzaburō's heart. He stopped reciting the holysutraand looked forth into the night. Once more he saw Tsuyu and her maid with the peony-lantern. Never before had Tsuyu looked so beautiful or so alluring; but a nameless terror held him back. He heard with bitter anguish the women speaking together. He heard Yoné tell her mistress that his love had changed because his doors had been made fast against them, followed by the plaintive weeping of Tsuyu. At last the women wandered round to the back of the house. But back and front alike prevented their entry, so potent were the sacred words of the Lord Buddha.

As all the efforts of Yoné to enter Shinzaburō's house were of no avail, she went night after night to Tomozō and begged him to remove the sacred texts from his master's dwelling. Over and over again, out of intense fear, Tomozō promised to do so, but with the coming of daylight he grew brave and decided not to betray one to whom he owed so much. One night, however, Yoné refused to be trifled with. She threatened Tomozō with awful hatred if he did not take away one of the sacred texts, and in addition she pulled such a terrible face that Tomozō nearly died of fright.

Tomozō's wife Miné happened to awake and hear the voice of a strange woman speaking to her husband. When the ghost-woman had vanished Miné gave her lord cunning counsel to the effect that he should consent to carry out Yoné's request provided that she would reward him with a hundredryō.

Two nights later, when this wicked servant had received his reward, he gave Yoné the little gold image of Buddha, took down from his master's house one of the sacred texts, and buried in a field thesutrawhich his master used to recite. This enabled Yoné and her mistress to enter the house of Shinzaburō once more, and with their entry began again this horrible love of the dead, presided over by the mysterious power of Karma.

When Tomozō came the next morning to call his master as usual, he obtained no response to his knocking. At last he entered the apartment, and there, under the mosquito-net, lay his master dead, and beside him were the white bones of a woman. The bones of "Morning Dew" were twined round the neck of one who had loved her too well, of one who had loved her with a fierce passion that at the last had been his undoing.

[1]This story, though inspired by a Chinese tale, is Japanese in local colour, and serves to illustrate, in an extremely weird way, the power of Karma, or human desire, referred to in Chapter X. We have closely followed Lafcadio Hearn's rendering, to be found inIn Ghostly Japan.

[2]See Chapter XVII.

"When he died it was as though a bright light had gone out in the midst of a black night.""Namudaishi." (Trans. by Arthur Lloyd.)

Kōbō Daishi[1]("Glory to the Great Teacher"), who was born A.D. 774, was the most holy and most famous of the Japanese Buddhist saints. He founded the Shingon-shū, a Buddhist sect remarkable for its magical formulæ and for its abstruse and esoteric teachings, and he is also said to have invented theHiraganasyllabary, a form of running script. In theNamudaishi, which is a Japanese poem on the life of this great saint, we are informed that Kobo Daishi brought back with him from China a millstone and some seeds of the tea-plant, and thus revived the drinking of this beverage, which had fallen into disuse. We are also told in the same poem that it was Kōbō Daishi who "demonstrated to the world the use of coal." He was renowned as a great preacher, but was not less famous as a calligraphist, painter, sculptor, and traveller.

Kōbō Daishi, however, is essentially famous for the extraordinary miracles which he performed, and numerous are the legends associated with him. His conception was miraculous, for when he was born in the Baron's Hall, on the shore of Byōbu, a bright light shone, and he came into the world with his hands folded as if in prayer. When but five years of age he would sitamong the lotuses and converse with Buddhas, and he kept secret all the wisdom he thus obtained. His heart was troubled by the sorrow and pain of humanity. While on Mount Shashin he sought to sacrifice his own life by way of propitiation, but he was prevented from doing so by a number of angels who would not allow this ardent soul to suffer death until he had fulfilled his destiny. His very games were of a religious nature. On one occasion he built a clay pagoda, and he was immediately surrounded by the Four Heavenly Kings (originally Hindu deities). The Imperial Messenger, who happened to pass by when this miracle took place, was utterly amazed, and described the young Kōbō Daishi as "a divine prodigy." While at Muroto, in Tosa, performing his devotions, we are told in theNamu-daishithat a bright star fell from Heaven and entered his mouth, while at midnight an evil dragon came forth against him, "but he spat upon it, and with his saliva he killed it."

In his nineteenth year he wore the black silk robes of a Buddhist priest, and with a zeal that never failed him sought for enlightenment. "Many are the ways," he said; "but Buddhism is the best of all." During his mystical studies he came across a book containing the Shingon doctrine, a doctrine that closely resembles the old Egyptian speculations. The book was so abstruse that even Kōbō Daishi failed to master it; but, nothing daunted, he received permission from the Emperor to visit China, where he ultimately unravelled its profound mysteries, and attained to that degree of saintship associated with the miraculous.

When Kōbō Daishi was in China the Emperor, hearing of his fame, sent for him and bade him rewrite thename of a certain room in the royal palace, a name that had become obliterated by the effacing finger of Time. Kōbō Daishi, with a brush in each hand, another in his mouth, and two others between the toes, wrote the characters required upon the wall, and for this extraordinary performance the Emperor named him Gohitsu-Oshō ("The Priest who writes with Five Brushes").

While still in China Kōbō Daishi met a boy standing by the side of a river. "If you be Kōbō Daishi," said he, "be honourably pleased to write upon the sky, for I have heard that no wonder is beyond your power."

Kōbō Daishi raised his brush; it moved quickly in the air, and writing appeared in the blue sky, characters that were perfectly formed and wonderfully beautiful.

When the boy had also written upon the sky with no less skill, he said to Kōbō Daishi: "We have both written upon the sky. Now I beg that you will write upon this flowing river."

Kōbō Daishi readily complied. Once again his brush moved, and this time a poem appeared on the water, a poem written in praise of that particular river. The letters lingered for a moment, and then were carried away by the swift current.

There seems to have been a contest in magical power between these two workers of marvels, for no sooner had the letters passed out of sight than the boy also wrote upon the running water the character of the Dragon, and it remained stationary.

Kōbō Daishi, who was a great scholar, at once perceived that the boy had omitted theten, a dot which rightly belonged to this character. When Kōbō Daishi pointed out the error, the boy told him that he had forgotten to insert theten, and begged that the famoussaint would put it in for him. No sooner had Kōbō Daishi done so than the Dragon character became a Dragon. Its tail lashed the waters, thunder-clouds sped across the sky, and lightning flashed. In another moment the Dragon arose from the water and ascended to heaven.

Though Kōbō Daishi's powers of magic excelled those of the boy, he inquired who this youth might be, and the boy replied: "I am Monju Bosatsu, the Lord of Wisdom." Having spoken these words, he became illumined by a radiant light; the beauty of the Gods shone upon his countenance, and, like the Dragon, he ascended into heaven.

On one occasion Kōbō Daishi omitted thetenon a tablet placed above one of the gates of the Emperor's palace.[2]The Emperor commanded that ladders should be brought; but Kōbō Daishi, without making use of them, stood upon the ground, and threw up his brush, which, after making theten, fell into his hand.

Kino Momoye once ridiculed some of Kōbō Daishi's characters, and said that one of them resembled a conceited wrestler. On the night he made this foolish jest Momoye dreamed that a wrestler struck him blow upon blow—moreover, that his antagonist leapt upon his body, causing him considerable pain. Momoye awoke, and cried aloud in his agony, and as he cried he saw the wrestler suddenly change into the character he had so unwisely jeered at. It rose into the air, and went back to the tablet from whence it had come.

Momoye was not the only man who imprudently scoffed at the great Kōbō Daishi's work. Legend records that one named Onomo Toku said that the saint's characterShuwas far more like the character "rice." That night Onomo Toku had good reason to regret his folly, for in a dream the characterShutook bodily form and became a rice-cleaner, who moved up and down the offender's body after the manner of hammers that were used in beating this grain. When Onomo Toku awoke it was to find that his body was covered with bruises and that his flesh was bleeding in many places.

When Kōbō Daishi was about to leave China and return to his own country he went down to the seashore and threw hisvajra[3]across the ocean waves, and it was afterwards found hanging on the branch of a pine-tree at Takano, in Japan.

We are not told anything about Kōbō Daishi's voyage to his own land; but directly he arrived in Japan he gave thanks for the divine protection he had received during his travels. On the Naked Mountain he offered incantations of so powerful a nature that the once barren mountain became covered with flowers and trees.

Kōbō Daishi, as time advanced, became still more holy. During a religious discussion the Divine Light streamed from him, and he continued to perform many great marvels. He made brackish water pure, raised the dead to life, and continued to commune with certain gods. On one occasion Inari,[4]the God of Rice,appeared on Mount Fushimé and took from the great saint the sacrifice he offered. "Together, you and I," said Kōbō Daishi, "we will protect this people."

In A.D. 834 this remarkable saint died, and we are told that a very great gathering, both lay and priestly, wept at the graveyard of Okunoin, in Kōya, where he was buried. His death, however, by no means meant a sudden cessation of miracles on his part, for when the Emperor Saga died "his coffin was mysteriously borne through the air to Kōya, and Kōbō himself, coming forth from his grave, performed the funeral obsequies." Nor did the wonders cease with this incident, for the Emperor Uda received from Kōbō Daishi the sacred Baptism. When the Imperial Messenger to the temple where Kōbō Daishi was worshipped was unable to see the face of this great saint, Kōbō "guided the worshipper's hand to touch his knee. Never, as long as he lived, did the Messenger forget that feeling!"

At Kawasaki there is a temple dedicated to Kōbō Daishi. "Local legend attributes the sanctity of this place to an image of Kōbō Daishi carved by that saint himself while in China, and consigned by him to the waves. It floated to this coast, where it was caught in a fisherman's net, and, being conveyed ashore, performed numerous miracles. The trees in the temple grounds, trained in the shape of junks under sail, attest the devotion paid to this holy image by the seafaring folk."[5]

Nichiren was the founder of the Buddhist sect which bears his name. His name means Sun Lotus, and was given to him because his mother dreamt that the sun rested on a lotus when she conceived him. Nichiren was an iconoclast of very marked character. He received, by revelation, a complete knowledge of Buddhist mysteries, though in reading the story of his life one would have supposed that he acquired his remarkable religious wisdom through arduous study. During his lifetime Japan was visited by a terrible earthquake, followed by a destructive hurricane, pestilence, and famine. So great were these calamities that men prayed to die rather than live amidst such universal misery. Nichiren saw in these great disasters the hand of Fate. He saw that religion and politics had become corrupt, and that Nature had rebelled against the numerous evils that existed at that time. Nichiren realised that Buddhism was no longer the simple teaching of the Lord Buddha. In the various Buddhist sects he had studied so diligently he found that the priests had neglected Shaka Muni (the Buddha), and worshipped Amida, a manifestation of the Lord Buddha, instead. Nor did their heresy end there, for he found that priests and people also worshipped Kwannon and other divinities. Nichiren desired to sweep these deities aside and to restore Buddhism to its old purity and singleness of purpose. He cried in one of his sermons: "Awake, men, awake! Awake and look around you. No man is born with two fathers or two mothers. Look at the heavens above you: there are no two suns in the sky. Look at the earth at your feet: no two kings can rule a country." In other words, he implied that no one can serve two masters, and the only master he found to be worthy of serviceand worship was Buddha himself. With this belief he sought to replace the ordinarymantra,Namu Amida Butsu, byNamu Myōhō Renge Kyō("Oh, the Scripture of the Lotus of the Wonderful Law!").

Nichiren wroteRisshō Ankōku Ron("Book to Tranquillise the Country"), which contained the prediction of a Mongol invasion and many bitter attacks against the other Buddhist sects. At length Hōjō Tokiyori was compelled to exile him to Ito for thirty years. He escaped, however, and renewed his heated attacks upon the rival sects. Nichiren's enemies sought assistance from the Regent Tokimune, who decided to have the monk beheaded, and the vindictive Nichiren was finally sent to the beach of Koshigoye to be executed. While awaiting the fatal stroke Nichiren prayed to Buddha, and the sword broke as it touched his neck. Nor was this the only miracle, for immediately after the breaking of the sword a flash of lightning struck the palace at Kamakura, and a heavenly light surrounded the saintly Nichiren. The official entrusted with the deed of execution was considerably impressed by these supernatural events, and he sent a messenger, to the Regent for a reprieve. Tokimune, however, had sent a horseman bearing a pardon, and the two men met at a river now called Yukiai ("Place of Meeting.")

Nichiren's miraculous escape was followed by an even more vigorous attack on those whom he considered were not of the true religion. He was again exiled, and finally took up his abode on Mount Minobu. It is said that a beautiful woman came to this mountain whilst Nichiren was praying. When the great saint saw her, he said: "Resume your natural state." After the woman had drunk water she changed into a snake nearly twenty feet long, with iron teeth and golden scales.

Shōdō Shonin was the founder of the first Buddhist temple at Nikko, and the following legend is supposed to have led to the construction of the sacred bridge of Nikko. One day, while Shōdō Shonin was on a journey, he saw four strange-looking clouds rise from the earth to the sky. He pressed forward in order to see them more clearly, but could not go far, for he found that his road was barred by a wild torrent. While he was praying for some means to continue his journey a gigantic figure appeared before him, clad in blue and black robes, with a necklace of skulls. The mysterious being cried to him from the opposite bank, saying: "I will help you as I once helped Hiuen." Having uttered these words, the Deity threw two blue and green snakes across the river, and on this bridge of snakes the priest was able to cross the torrent. When Shōdō Shonin had reached the other bank the God and his blue and green snakes disappeared.

[1]The saint's name when living was Kūkai. Kōbō Daishi was a posthumous title, and it is by this title that he is generally known.

[2]Hence the Japanese proverb: "Even Kōbō Daishi sometimes wrote wrong."

[3]An instrument of incantation somewhat resembling a thunder-bolt.

[4]At a later period Inari was known as the Fox God. See Chapter V.

[5]Murray's Handbook for Japan, by B. H. Chamberlain and W. B. Mason.

"Her weapons are a smile and a little fan." This quotation from Mr. Yone Noguchi only illustrates one phase of the Japanese fan, the phase with which we are familiar in our own country. The Japanese fan is not merely a dainty feminine trifle to be used in conjunction with a smile or with eyes peeping behind some exquisite floral design. Nippon's fan has a fascinating history quite outside the gentle art of coquetry, and those who are interested in this subject would do well to consult Mrs. C. M. Salwey'sFans of Japan. Here the reader will find that the fan of the Land of the Rising Sun has performed many important offices. It has been used by ancient warriors on the battlefield as a means of giving emphasis to their commands. On one occasion it was the mark of Nasu no Yoichi's bow, and although the sun-marked fan was whirling in the wind, tied to a staff in the gunwale of one of the Taira ships, Yoichi brought it down:

"Alas! the fan!Now driftwood on the sea.The lord Nasu,Skilful with the bow,Yoichi's fame is spread."

A certain Japanese fan, of gigantic size, is used in the festival of the Sun Goddess in Ise, and there is a pretty story told of the widow of Atsumori becoming a nun and curing a priest by fanning him with the first folding fan, which is said to have been her own invention.

One of the most important parts of the Japanese fan, as of any other, is the rivet, and concerning the rivet there is the following legend. Kashima on one occasion stuck his sword through the earth, withthe idea of steadying the world and thus preventing earthquakes, phenomena still prevalent in Japan. Eventually the sword turned into stones, and it was calledKanamé ishi, or the Rivet Rock, and this was the origin of the namekanaméas applied to Japanese fans.

Mrs. C. M. Salwey tells us in an article entitledOn Symbolism and Symbolic Ceremonies of the Japanese[1]that the folding fan symbolises life itself. She writes: "The rivet end typifies the starting-point, the radiating limbs the road of life.... The outside frame-sticks specify the parents, the inside limbs the children, to show that children must be under control all their life long." On the frame there is often a cat's eye, suggesting the rapid passing of time, or, again, there is a series of circles, one linked into the other—an incomplete design, showing that "life and wisdom can never be exhausted."

There is a legend concerning the Japanese fan that is extremely pleasing, and neither war nor philosophy figures in it. Though the story of the Japanese fan is wide and varied, it appeals to us most in its more tender aspect. The Japanese fan that has a love-poem upon it and a love-story behind it is the fan that will always be the most precious to those who still keep a place for romance in their hearts. The following legend is fromThe Diary of a Convolvulus.

"The morning gloryHer leaves and bells has boundMy bucket-handle round.I would not break the bandsOf those soft hands.The bucket and the well to her I left:Lend me some water, for I come bereft."From the Japanese. (Trans. by Sir Edwin Arnold.)

Komagawa Miyagi a retainer of one of thedaimyōs, came to a suburb of Kyōto. As it happened to be a warm summer evening he hired a boat, and, forgetting all his worries, he watched many bright-robed little ladies catching fireflies. In the air and on the grass these bright insects shone, so that the laughing ladies had many opportunities of catching these living jewels and placing them for a moment in their hair, upon poised finger, or against a silk flower on akimono.

While Komagawa watched this pretty scene he saw that one of the ladies was in difficulty with her boat. Komagawa at once came to her assistance, and there and then fell desperately in love with her. They lingered together in a cool recess on the river, and no longer troubled about fireflies, for both were eager to express their love.

In order to pledge their vows these two lovers, according to an ancient custom, exchanged fans. On Miyuki's fan there was a painting of a convolvulus. Komagawa wrote a poem about this lovely flower upon his own fan before presenting it to the woman he loved. So it was that their fans and their vows were exchanged, and the convolvulus, in picture and in verse, became the pledge of their troth.

Eventually the lovers separated, to meet again a few days later at Akasha, where it chanced that their ships touched each other. When they had exchanged many a fair and loving word they returned to their respective homes.

When Miyuki reached her home, radiant with thoughts of her true love, she discovered that her parents hadalready arranged a marriage for her with some one the poor little woman had never seen.

Miyuki heard this piece of news with an aching heart. She knew that children must obey their parents, and when she was lying down on herfutonshe did her utmost to comply with her parents' wish. But the struggle proved useless, for the form of her lover kept on coming back to her, and the river and the gleaming fireflies. So she arose, crept out of the house, and walked towards a certain town, hoping to find Komagawa, only to discover on her arrival that he had departed, no one knew whither.

This bitter disappointment much affected Miyuki, and she wept for many days; Her salt tears flowed so persistently that she soon became quite blind, as helpless a creature as "a bird without feathers or a fish without fins."

Miyuki, after she had given way to grief for some time, discovered that if she did not wish to starve she must do something to earn a living. She made up her mind to make use of her excellent voice and to sing in streets or in tea-houses. Her voice, combined with her beautiful and pathetic face, won instant recognition. People wept over her plaintive singing without knowing why. She loved to sing the little poem about the convolvulus Komagawa had written on his fan, so the people who heard her called her Asagao ("Convolvulus").

The blind maiden was led from place to place by her friend Asaka ("Slight Fragrance "), till some one killed her, and Asagao was left alone to tap out her dark journeys without a loving hand to guide her. There was only one thought that consoled Asagao, and that was that she might, in her wanderings, eventually meet her lover.

When a few years had passed by it chanced that Komagawa, accompanied by Iwashiro Takita, was senton business by hisDaimyō. While on their journey they happened to enter a certain tea-house. Iwashiro Takita was sullen and morose, and sat in gloomy silence, not deigning to notice his surroundings. Komagawa, on the other hand, looked about him, and saw on a screen the very poem he had written about the convolvulus, the poem he had so lovingly inscribed for Asagao. While pondering the matter in his mind the master of the tea-house entered the apartment. Komagawa questioned him concerning this little love-poem, and the master of the tea-house told the following story:

"It is a very sad story," said he. "The poem was sung by a poor blind lady. She ran away from her home because she could not marry the man her parents had chosen for her. She was unable to consent to the union because she already had a lover, and this lover she sought up and down the country, ever singing this little poem about the convolvulus, in the hope that some day she might have the good fortune to meet him. Honourable sir, at this very moment she is in my tea-garden!"

Komagawa could scarcely conceal his joy when he requested that the master of the tea-house would bring in the blind woman.

In another moment Asagao stood before him. He saw in her delicate face an added beauty, the beauty of a hope, of a love kept bright and clear through the long, sorrowful years of waiting.

Asagao touched thesamisen.[2]Very gently she sang:

"Down fell the shower of silver rain and wet the poor Convolvulus,The sweet dew on the leaves and flowers being taken away by thejealous sun."

Komagawa listened intently, longing to speak, longing to reveal his love, yet keeping silent because his ill-bred companion still remained in the room. He watched her dark eyes fixed upon him, but they were without expression, for they could not see. Still thesamisentinkled, and still the voice sounded sweet and low and unspeakably pathetic in the apartment. With an aching heart and without a word of love he dismissed her with the usual fee. She walked out of the room as if conscious of a new, acute sorrow. There was something in her patron's voice that was extremely tender, something that moved her deeply, and it made her heart ache and yearn without knowing why.

The next day Komagawa gave the master of the tea-house a fan, saying: "Give this fan and money to Asagao. She will understand." With these words Komagawa and his companion proceeded on their journey.

When Asagao had received the fan she felt it eagerly with her small white fingers. "Who has given me this fan and money?" she inquired. "Oh, tell me what the fan is like. Has it a drawing of a convolvulus?"

The master of the tea-house looked at her gently, "He to whom you sang last night gave you this fan," said he. "There is a drawing of a convolvulus upon it."

Asagao gave a cry of joy. "Last night," she said softly, "I was with my lover again! And now, and now...."

At this very moment a servant from Asagao's old home arrived, asserting that he had been sent by her parents to bring her back again. But Asagao, true to her old love, determined to fight down all opposition.

Now it happened that the master of this tea-house had once been employed by Asagao's father. He had committed a great wrong in that capacity, a wrongworthy of death; but Asagao's father had taken pity upon him. He had dismissed him with money, which had enabled the wrongdoer to set up in business for himself. During this crisis the master of the tea-house thought oven the kindness that had been shown him, and resolved to commitseppukuin order that his old master's child might receive her sight again by means of this brave man's liver.[3]

So the master of the tea-house killed himself, and Asagao received her sight. That very night, though there was a fierce tempest raging, she set out in search of her lover, accompanied by a faithful little band of servants. All night the maiden journeyed over rough and rugged roads. She scarcely noticed the heavy rain or her bleeding feet. She was urged on by a joyous love, by the fond hope of finding her lover again.

As she climbed a mountain, now bathed in sunlight, she fancied she heard a voice calling her name. She looked about her and discovered Komagawa. Peace came to her then. All the weariness of long search and almost endless waiting were over for ever, and in a little while the lovers were married. The convolvulus, or morning glory, is a flower that only blooms for a few hours; but Asagao's love had the beauty of the convolvulus combined with the strength and long life of the pine. In their happy union they had remained true to the pledge of love upon their fans, and out of blindness and much suffering Asagao could hold up her fair head to the dew and sunshine of her lover's sheltering arms.

[1]Asiatic Quarterly Review, October 1894.

[2]"Thesamisen, or 'three strings,' now the favourite instrument of the singing-girls and of the lower classes generally, seems to have been introduced from Manila as recently as the year 1700."—Things Japanese, by B. H. Chamberlain.

[3]The liver, both of man and animal, was supposed to have remarkable medicinal properties. It frequently occurs in Japanese legends, but the idea was probably borrowed from the strangest pharmacopœia in the world, that of the Chinese.

"The earth is full of saltpetre and sulphur, which rise in the form of mist, and, uniting in the sky, become a vapour that possesses the properties of gunpowder. When this nears the intense heat of the sun it explodes, like a natural gas; and the terrible sound is heard by all the world. The shock, striking animals and birds wandering in the clouds, hurls them to the ground. Therefore thunder, and lightning, and the creatures that tumble from the clouds during a storm, are not one and the same thing.""Shin-rai-ki" (Record of Thunder).

There are many quaint legends in regard to thunder, and in Bakin'sKumono Tayema Ama Yo No Tsuki[1]("The Moon, shining through a Cloud-rift, on a Rainy Night") the famous Japanese novelist, who is an ardent believer in many of the superstitions of his country, has much to say in regard to Raiden, the God of Thunder, and the supernatural beings associated with him. Raiden is usually depicted as having red skin, the face of a demon, with two claws on each foot, and carrying on his back a great wheel or arc of drums. He is often found in company with Fugin, or with his son, Raitaro. When the Mongols attempted to invade Japan they were prevented from doing so by a great storm, and, according to legend, only three men escaped to tell the tale. Raiden's assistance in favour of Japan is often portrayed in Japanese art. He is depicted sitting on the clouds emitting lightnings and sending forth a shower of arrows upon the invaders. In China the Thunder God is regarded as a being ever on the look-out for wicked people. When he findsthem, the Goddess of Lightning flashes a mirror upon those whom the God wishes to strike.

Raijū, or Thunder Animal, appears to be more closely associated with lightning than with thunder. He is seen in forms resembling a weasel, badger, or monkey. In theShin-rai-ki("Thunder Record") we read the following: "On the twenty-second day of the sixth month of the second year of Meiwa [July 1766] a Thunder Animal fell at Oyama [Great Mountain], in the province of Sagami. It was captured by a farmer, who brought it to Yedo, and exhibited it for money on the Riyo-goku Bridge. The creature was a little larger than a cat, and resembled a weasel: it had black hair, and five claws on each paw. During fine weather it was very tame and gentle; but, before and during a storm, exceedingly savage and unmanageable." In China the Thunder Animal is described as having "the head of a monkey, with crimson lips, eyes like mirrors, and two sharp claws on each paw." During a storm the Thunder Animal of Japan springs from tree to tree, and if any of the trees are found to have been struck by lightning it is believed to be the savage work of, the Thunder Animal's claws. This being, in common with the Thunder God himself, is said to have a weakness for human navels, so that for this reason many superstitious people endeavour, if possible, to lie flat on their stomachs during a thunderstorm. Bark torn by the Thunder Animal is carefully preserved, and is supposed to be an excellent remedy for toothache.

Raicho, Thunder Bird, resembles a rook, but it has spurs of flesh, which, when struck together, produce ahorrible sound. This is the bird to which the Emperor of Goto-bain referred in the following poem:

"In the shadow of the pine-tree of Shiro-yamaThunder-birds rest, and spend the night."

These birds feed upon the tree-frog namedrai(thunder), and are always seen flying about in the sky during a thunderstorm.

Little is known concerning Kaminari (Thunder Woman), except that on one occasion she is said to have appeared in the guise of a Chinese Empress.

Bakin remarks that those who are afraid of thunder have theIn, or female principle, predominating, while those who are not afraid have theYo, or the male principle, in the ascendency. The same writer gives the following custom in regard to those who have suffered as the result of a thunderstorm, and we must note that emphasis is laid uponthunderas the destructive power—noise rather than light: "When any one is struck by thunder make him lie upon his back, and place a live carp in his bosom. If the carp jumps and moves the patient will recover. This is infallible. When thunder scorches the flesh burnKo(incense) under the sufferer's nose. This will cause him to cough, and break the spell of the Thunder God."

Most of the legends relating to Raiden and his kindred spirits are of a malevolent nature; but in the following story we learn that the Thunder God's child brought considerable prosperity.

Near Mount Hakuzan there once lived a very poor farmer named Bimbo. His plot of land was extremely small, and though he worked upon it from dawn till sunsethe had great difficulty in growing sufficient rice for himself and his wife.

One day, after a protracted drought, Bimbo dismally surveyed his dried-up rice sprouts. As he thus stood fearing starvation in the near future, rain suddenly descended, accompanied by loud claps of thunder. Just as Bimbo was about to take shelter from the storm he was nearly blinded by a vivid flash of lightning, and he prayed fervently to Buddha for protection. When he had done so he looked about him, and to his amazement saw a little baby boy laughing and crooning as he lay in the grass.

Bimbo took the infant in his arms, and gently carried him to his humble dwelling, where his wife greeted him with surprise and pleasure. The child was called Raitaro, the Child of Thunder, and lived with his foster-parents a happy and dutiful boy. He never played with other children, for he loved to roam in the fields, to watch the stream and the swift flight of clouds overhead.

With the coming of Raitaro there came prosperity to Bimbo, for Raitaro could beckon to clouds and bid them throw down their rain-drops only on his foster-father's field.

When Raitaro had grown into a handsome youth of eighteen he once again thanked Bimbo and his wife for all they had done for him, and told them that he must now bid farewell to his benefactors.

Almost before the youth had finished speaking, he suddenly turned into a small white dragon, lingered a moment, and then flew away.

The old couple ran to the door. As the white dragon ascended into the sky it grew bigger and bigger, till it was hidden behind a great cloud.

When Bimbo and his wife died a white dragon was carved upon their tomb in memory of Raitaro, the Child of Thunder.

Shokuro, in order to stand well with Tom, the magistrate of his district, promised him that he would catch the Thunder God. "If," said Shokuro, "I were to tie a human navel to the end of a kite, and fly it during a stormy day, I should be sure to catch Raiden, for the Thunder God would not be able to resist such a repast. The most difficult part of the whole business is to secure the meal."

With this scheme in view Shokuro set out upon a journey in quest of food for the Thunder God. On reaching a wood he chanced to see a beautiful woman named Chiyo. The ambitious Shokuro, without the least compunction, killed the maid, and, having secured his object, flung her corpse into a deep ditch. He then proceeded on his way with a light heart.

Raiden, while sitting on a cloud, happened to notice the woman's body lying in a ditch. He descended quickly, and, being fascinated by the beauty of Chiyo, he took from his mouth a navel, restored her to life, and together they flew away into the sky.

Some days later Shokuro was out hunting for the Thunder God, his kite, with its gruesome relic, soaring high over the trees as it flew hither and thither in a strong wind. Chiyo saw the kite, and descended nearer and nearer to the earth. At last she held it in her hands and saw what was attached. Filled with indignation, she looked down in order to see who was flying the kite, and was much astonished to recognise her murderer. At this juncture Raiden descended in a rage, only to receive severe chastisement at the hands of Shokuro, who then made his peace with Chiyo, and afterwards became a famous man in the village. Truly an astonishing story!

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