1.Fudaraku-ji, at Nachi, in Kishū.2.Kimii-dera, near Wakayama, in Kishū.3.Kokawa-dera, in Kishū.4.Sefuku-ji, in Izumi.5.Fujii-dera, in Kawachi.6.Tsubosaka-dera, in Yamato.7.Oka-dera, in Yamato.8.Hase-dera, in Yamato.9.Nan-enō, at Nara, in Yamato.10.Mimuroto-dera, at Uji, in Yamashiro.11.Kami Daigo-dera, at Uji, in Yamashiro.12.Iwama-dera, in Ōmi.13.Ishiyama-dera, near Ōtsu, in Ōmi.14.Miidera, near Ōtsu, in Ōmi.15.Ima-Gumano, at Kyōto, in Yamashiro.16.Kiyomizu-dera, at Kyōto.17.Rokuhara-dera, at Kyōto.18.Rokkaku-dō, at Kyōto.19.Kōdō, at Kyōto.20.Yoshimine-dera, at Kyōto.21.Anōji, in Tamba.22.Sōjiji, in Settsu.23.Katsuo-dera, in Settsu.24.Nakayama-dera, near Kōbe, in Settsu.25.Shin Kiyomizu-dera, in Harima.26.Hokkeji, in Harima.27.Shosha-san, in Harima.28.Nareai-ji, in Tango.29.Matsunoo-dera, in Wakasa.30.Chikubu-shima, island in Lake Biwa, in Ōmi.31.Chōmeiji, in Ōmi.32.Kwannonji, in Ōmi.33.Tanigumi-dera, near Tarui, in Mino.[3]
The Buddhist temple of Ni-gwarsu-dō ("Hall of the Second Moon") contains a small copper image of Kwannon. It has the miraculous power of being warm like living flesh, and since the image was enshrined special services in honour of Kwannon take place in February, and on the 18th of each month the sacred image is exposed for worship.
An old hermit named Saion Zenji took up his abode on Mount Nariai in order that he might be able to gaze upon the beauty of Ama-no-Hashidate, a narrow fir-clad promontory dividing Lake Iwataki and Miyazu Bay. Ama-no-Hashidate is still regarded as one of theSankei, or "Three Great Sights," of Japan, and still MountNariai is considered the best spot from which to view this charming scene.
On Mount Nariai this gentle and holy recluse erected a little shrine to Kwannon not far from a solitary pine-tree. He spent his happy days in looking upon Ama-no-Hashidate and in chanting the Buddhist Scriptures, and his charming disposition and holy ways were much appreciated by the people who came to pray at the little shrine he had so lovingly erected for his own joy and for the joy of others.
The hermit's abode, delightful enough in mild and sunny weather, was dreary in the winter-time, for when it snowed the good old man was cut off from human intercourse. On one occasion the snow fell so heavily that it was piled up in some places to a height of twenty feet. Day after day the severe weather continued, and at last the poor old hermit found that he had no food of any kind. Chancing to look out one morning, he saw that a deer was lying dead in the snow. As he gazed upon the poor creature, which had been frozen to death, he remembered that it was unlawful in the sight of Kwannon to eat the flesh of animals; but on thinking over the matter more carefully it seemed to him that he could do more good to his fellow creatures by partaking of this deer than by observing the strict letter of the law and allowing himself to starve in sight of plenty.
When Saion Zenji had come to this wise decision he went out and cut off a piece of venison, cooked it, and ate half, with many prayers of thanksgiving for his deliverance. The rest of the venison he left in his cooking-pot.
Eventually the snow melted, and several folk hastily wended their way from the neighbouring village, and ascended Mount Nariai, expecting to see that their good and much-loved hermit had forever passed away from this world. As they approached the shrine,however, they were rejoiced to hear the old man chanting, in a clear and ringing voice, the sacred Buddhist Scriptures.
The folk from the village gathered about the hermit while he narrated the story of his deliverance. When, out of curiosity, they chanced to peep into his cooking-pot, they saw, to their utter amazement, that it contained no venison, but a piece of wood covered with gold foil. Still wondering what it all meant, they looked upon the image of Kwannon in the little shrine, and found that a piece had been cut from her loins, and when they inserted the piece of wood the wound was healed. Then it was that the old hermit and the folk gathered about him realised that the deer had been none other than Kwannon, who, in her boundless love and tender mercy, had made a sacrifice of her own divine flesh.
"The wild flowers fade, the maple-leaves,Touched by frost-fingers, float to earth;But on the bosom of the seaThe flowers to which her waves give birthFade not, like blossoms on the land,Nor feel the chill of Autumn's hand."Yasuhide. (Trans. by Clara A. Walsh.)
Benten, the Goddess of the Sea, is also one of the Seven Divinities of Luck; and she is romantically referred to as the Goddess of Love, Beauty, and Eloquence. She is represented in Japanese art as riding on a dragon or serpent, which may account for the fact that in certain localities snakes are regarded as being sacred. Images of Benten depict her as having eight arms. Six hands are extended above her head and hold a bow, arrow, wheel, sword, key, and sacred jewel, while her two remaining hands are reverently crossed in prayer. She resembles Kwannon in manyways, and images of the two goddesses are frequently seen together, but the shrines of Benten are usually to be found on islands.
We have already referred to Benten riding on a dragon, and the following legend may possibly be connected with this particular representation.
In a certain cave there lived a formidable dragon, which devoured the children of the village of Koshigoe. In the sixth century Benten was determined to put a stop to this monster's unseemly behaviour, and having caused a great earthquake she hovered in the clouds over the cave where the dread dragon had taken up his abode. Benten then descended from the clouds, entered the cavern, married the dragon, and was thus able, through her good influence, to put an end to the slaughter of little children. With the coming of Benten there arose from the sea the famous Island of Enoshima,[4]which has remained to this day sacred to the Goddess of the Sea.
Hanagaki Baishū, a young poet and scholar, attended a great festival to celebrate the rebuilding of the Amadera temple. He wandered about the beautiful grounds, and eventually reached the place of a spring from which he had often quenched his thirst. He found that what had originally been a spring was now a pond, and, moreover, that at one corner of the pond there was a tablet bearing the wordsTanjō-Sui("Birth-Water"), and also a small but attractive temple dedicated to Benten. While Baishū was noting thechanges in the temple grounds the wind blew to his feet a charmingly written love-poem. He picked it up, and discovered that it had been inscribed by a female hand, that the characters were exquisitely formed, and that the ink was fresh.
Baishū went home and read and re-read the poem. It was not long before he fell in love with the writer, and finally he resolved to make her his wife. At length he went to the temple of Benten-of-the-Birth-Water, and cried: "Oh, Goddess, come to my aid, and help me to find the woman who wrote these wind-blown verses!" Having thus prayed, he promised to perform a seven days' religious service, and to devote the seventh night in ceaseless worship before the sacred shrine of Benten, in the grounds of the Amadera.
On the seventh night of the vigil Baishū heard a voice calling for admittance at the main gateway of the temple grounds. The gate was opened, and an old man, clad in ceremonial robes and with a black cap upon his head, advanced and silently knelt before the temple of Benten. Then the outer door of the temple mysteriously opened, and a bamboo curtain was partially raised, revealing a handsome boy, who thus addressed the old man: "We have taken pity on a young man who desires a certain love-union, and have called you to inquire into the matter, and to see if you can bring the young people together."
The old man bowed, and then drew from his sleeve a cord which he wound round Baishū's body, igniting one end in a temple-lantern, and waving his hand the while, as if beckoning some spirit to appear out of the dark night. In a moment a young girl entered the temple grounds, and, with her fan half concealing her pretty face, she knelt beside Baishū.
Then the beautiful boy thus addressed Baishū: "Wehave heard your prayer, and we have known that recently you have suffered much. The woman you love is now beside you." And having uttered these words the divine youth departed, and the old man left the temple grounds.
When Baishū had given thanks to Benten-of-the-Birth-Water he proceeded homeward. On reaching the street outside the temple grounds he saw a young girl, and at once recognised her as the woman he loved. Baishū spoke to her, and when she replied the gentleness and sweetness of her voice filled the youth with joy. Together they walked through the silent streets until at last they came to the house where Baishū lived. There was a moment's pause, and then the maiden said: "Benten has made me your wife," and the lovers entered the house together.
The marriage was an extremely fortunate one, and the happy Baishū discovered that his wife, apart from her excellent domestic qualities, was accomplished in the art of arranging flowers and in the art of embroidery, and that her delicate writing was not less pleasing than her charming pictures. Baishū knew nothing about her family, but as she had been presented to him by the Goddess Benten he considered that it was unnecessary to question her in the matter. There was only one thing that puzzled the loving Baishū, and that was that the neighbours seemed to be totally unaware of his wife's presence.
One day, while Baishū was walking in a remote quarter of Kyōto, he saw a servant beckoning to him from the gateway of a private house. The man came forward, bowed respectfully, and said: "Will you deign to enter this house? My master is anxious to have the honour of speaking to you." Baishū, who knew nothing of the servant or his master, was not a littlesurprised by this strange greeting, but he allowed himself to be conducted to the guest-room, and thus his host addressed him:
"I most humbly apologise for the very informal manner of my invitation, but I believe that I have acted in compliance with a message I received from the Goddess Benten. I have a daughter, and, as I am anxious to find a good husband for her, I sent her written poems to all the temples of Benten in Kyōto. In a dream the Goddess came to me, and told me that she had secured an excellent husband for my daughter, and that he would visit me during the coming winter. I was not inclined to attach very much importance to this dream; but last night Benten again revealed herself to me in a vision, and said that to-morrow the husband she had chosen for my daughter would call upon me, and that I could then arrange the marriage. The Goddess described the appearance of the young man so minutely that I am assured that you are my daughter's future husband."
These strange words filled Baishū with sorrow, and when his courteous host proposed to present him to the lady he was unable to summon up sufficient courage to tell his would-be father-in-law that he already had a wife. Baishū followed his host into another apartment, and to his amazement and joy he discovered that the daughter of the house was none other than his own wife! And yet there was a subtle difference, for the woman who now smiled upon him was the body of his wife, and she who had appeared before the temple of Benten-of-the-Birth-Water was her soul. We are told that Benten performed this miracle for the sake of her worshippers, and thus it came to pass that Baishū had a strange dual marriage with the woman he loved.
Daikoku, the God of Wealth, Ebisu, his son, the God of Labour, and Hotei, the God of Laughter and Contentment, belong to that cycle of deities known as the Gods of Luck. Daikoku is represented with a Magic Mallet, which bears the sign of the Jewel, embodying the male and female spirit, and signifies a creative deity. A stroke of his Mallet confers wealth, and his second attribute is the Rat. Daikoku is, as we should suppose, an extremely popular deity, and he is frequently portrayed as a prosperous Chinese gentleman, richly apparelled, and is usually shown standing on bales of rice, with a bag of precious things on his shoulder. This genial and beneficent God is also depicted as seated on bales of rice, or showing his treasures to some eager and expectant child, or holding the Red Sun against his breast with one hand and grasping the Magic Mallet with the other.
Daikoku's attribute, a Rat, has an emblematic and moral meaning in connection with the wealth hidden in the God's bag. The Rat is frequently portrayed either in the bale of rice with its head peeping out, or in it, or playing with the Mallet, and sometimes a large number of rats are shown.
According to a certain old legend, the Buddhist Gods grew jealous of Daikoku. They consulted together, and finally decided that they would get rid of the too popular Daikoku, to whom the Japanese offered prayers and incense. Emma-Ō, the Lord of the Dead, promised to send his most cunning and cleveroni, Shiro, who, he said, would have no difficulty in conquering the God of Wealth. Shiro, guided by a sparrow, went toDaikoku's castle, but though he hunted high and low he could not find its owner. Finally Shiro discovered a large storehouse, in which he saw the God of Wealth seated. Daikoku called his Rat and bade him find out who it was who dared to disturb him. When the Rat saw Shiro he ran into the garden and brought back a branch of holly, with which he drove theoniaway, and Daikoku remains to this day one of the most popular of the Japanese Gods. This incident is said to be the origin of the New Year's Eve charm, consisting of a holly leaf and a skewer, or a sprig of holly fixed in the lintel of the door of a house to prevent the return of theoni.
1. Makura Daikoku, ordinary form with Mallet on lotus leaf.
2. Ojikara Daikoku, with sword andvajra.
3. Bika Daikoku, a priest, with Mallet in right hand,vajra-hilted sword in left.
4. Yasha Daikoku, with Wheel of the Law in his right hand.
5. Shinda Daikoku, a boy seated with a crystal in his left hand.
6. Mahakara Daikoku, seated female, with small bale of rice on her head.
Ebisu and his father Daikoku are usually pictured together: the God of Wealth seated upon bales of rice, pressing the Red Sun against his breast with one hand, and with the other holding the wealth-giving Mallet, while Ebisu is depicted with a fishing-rod and a greattaifish under his arm.
Hotei, the God of Laughter and Contentment, is one of the most whimsical of the Japanese Gods. He is represented as extremely fat, carrying on his back a linen bag (ho-tei), from which he derives his name. In this bag he stows the Precious Things, but when in a particularly playful mood he uses it as a receptacle for merry and inquisitive children. Sometimes Hotei is represented in a broken-down and extremely shabby carriage drawn by boys, and is then known as the Waggon Priest. Again he is portrayed as carrying in one hand a Chinese fan and in the other his bag, or balancing at either end of a pole the bag of Precious Things and a boy.
[1]The title is not accurate, for in reality this form of Kwannon possesses only forty hands. No doubt the name is intended to suggest munificence on the part of this Goddess.
[1]The title is not accurate, for in reality this form of Kwannon possesses only forty hands. No doubt the name is intended to suggest munificence on the part of this Goddess.
[2]"In imitation of the original Thirty-three Holy Places, thirty-three other places have been established in Eastern Japan, and also in the district of Chichibu."—Murray's Handbook for Japan, by Basil Hall Chamberlain and W. B. Mason.
[2]"In imitation of the original Thirty-three Holy Places, thirty-three other places have been established in Eastern Japan, and also in the district of Chichibu."—Murray's Handbook for Japan, by Basil Hall Chamberlain and W. B. Mason.
[3]Compiled fromMurray's Handbook for Japan.
[3]Compiled fromMurray's Handbook for Japan.
[4]SeeGlimpses of Unfamiliar Japan, by Lafcadio Hearn, vol. i. pp. 62-104.
[4]SeeGlimpses of Unfamiliar Japan, by Lafcadio Hearn, vol. i. pp. 62-104.
"I asked a charming Japanese girl: 'How can a doll live?' 'Why,' she answered, 'if you love it enough, it will live!'"Lafcadio Hearn.
"I asked a charming Japanese girl: 'How can a doll live?' 'Why,' she answered, 'if you love it enough, it will live!'"Lafcadio Hearn.
Our English dolls, with their flaxen hair, blue eyes, and simpering faces, are certainly not a credit to the toy-maker's art if they are to be regarded as bearing even a remote likeness to living children. Put in a horizontal position, something will click in their little heads and their blue eyes will close, or more correctly roll backward; a pinch will make them emit a tolerable imitation of the words "Papa!" "Mamma!" and yet in spite of these mechanical devices they have nothing more to their credit than a child's short-lived love. They are speedily broken, or liable at any moment to be decapitated by a little brother who has learnt too well the story of Lady Jane Grey!
In Japan, however, the doll is not merely a play-thing by which little children may become make-believe mothers, but in earlier days it was regarded as a means to make a wife a mother. Lafcadio Hearn writes: "And if you see such a doll, though held quite close to you, being made by a Japanese mother to reach out its hands, to move its little bare feet, and to turn its head, you would be almost afraid to venture a heavy wager that it was only a doll." It is this startling likeness that is perhaps accountable for the quaint and beautiful love connected with Japanese dolls.
At one time certain dolls were actually said to become alive, to take to their small bodies a human soul, and the belief is merely an echo of the old idea that much love will quicken to life the image of a living thing. In Old Japan the doll was handed down from one generation to another, and sometimes remained in an excellent condition for over a hundred years. A hundred years spent in little children's arms, served with food, put to bed regularly every night, and the object of constant endearments, will no doubt work wonders in the poetic imagination of a happy and childlike people.
The tiny doll known as O-Hina-San does not come within the region of our present study; it was simply a toy and nothing more. It is the life-size dolls we must deal with, those dolls so cunningly representing little children two or three years old. The girl doll of this class is known as O-Toku-San and the boy doll as Tokutarō-San. It was believed that if these dolls were ill-treated or neglected in any way they would weep, become angry, and bring misfortune upon their possessors. They had in addition many other supernatural powers.
In a certain old family there was a Tokutarō-San which received a reverence almost equal to that shown to Kishibōjin, the Goddess to whom Japanese wives pray for offspring. This Tokutarō-San was borrowed by childless couples. They gave it new clothes and tended it with loving care, assured that such a doll which had a soul would make them happy by answering their prayers for a child. Tokutarō-San, according to legend, was very much alive, for when the house caught fire it speedily ran into the garden for safety!
What happens to a Japanese doll when after a very long and happy life it eventually gets broken? Though finally regarded as dead, its remains are treated with the utmost respect. It is not thrown away with rubbish, or burned, or even reverently laid upon running water, as is often the case with dead Japanese flowers. It is not buried, but dedicated to Kōjin, frequently represented as a deity with many arms. Kōjin is supposed to reside in theenokitree, and in front of this tree there is a small shrine andtorii. Here, then, the remains of a very old Japanese doll are reverently laid. Its little face may be scratched, its silk dress torn and faded and its arms and legs broken, but it once had a soul, once had the mysteriousdesireto give maternity to those who longed for it.
On March 3 the Girls' Festival takes place. It is known asJōmi no Sekku, orHina Matsuri, the Feast or Dolls.
"Where the soft drifts lieOf fallen blossoms, dying,Did one flutter now,From earth to its brown bough?Ah, no! 'twas a butterfly,Like fragile blossom flying!"Arakida Mortitake.(Trans. by Clara A. Walsh.)
It is in China rather than in Japan that the butterfly is connected with legend and folk-lore. The Chinese scholar Rōsan is said to have received visits from two spirit maidens who regaled him with ghostly stories about these bright-winged insects.
It is more than probable that the legends concerningbutterflies in Japan have been borrowed from China. Japanese poets and artists were fond of choosing for their professional appellation such names as "Butterfly-Dream," "Solitary Butterfly," "Butterfly-Help," and so on. Though probably of Chinese origin, such ideas naturally appealed to the æsthetic taste of the Japanese people, and no doubt they played in early days the romantic game of butterflies. The Emperor Gensō used to make butterflies choose his loves for him. At a wine-party in his garden fair ladies would set caged butterflies free. These bright-coloured insects would fly and settle upon the fairest damsels, and those maidens immediately received royal favours.
In Japan the butterfly was at one time considered to be the soul of a living man or woman. If it entered a guest-room and pitched behind the bamboo screen it was a sure sign that the person whom it represented would shortly appear in the house. The presence of a butterfly in the house was regarded as a good omen, though of course everything depended on the individual typified by the butterfly.
The butterfly was not always the harbinger of good. When Taira-no-Masakado was secretly preparing for a revolt Kyōto was the scene of a swarm of butterflies, and the people who saw them were much frightened. Lafcadio Hearn suggests that these butterflies may have been the spirits of those fated to fall in battle, the spirits of the living who were stirred by a premonition of the near approach of death. Butterflies may also be the souls of the dead, and they often appear in this form in order to announce their final leave-taking from the body.
The Japanese drama contains reference to the ghostly significance of butterflies. In the play known asThe Flying Hairpin of Kochō, the heroine, Kochō, kills herself on account of false accusations and cruel treatment. Her lover seeks to discover who has been the cause of her untimely death. Eventually Kochō's hairpin turns into a butterfly and hovers over the hiding-place of the villain who has caused all the trouble.
There is a quaint and touching Japanese legend connected with the butterfly. An old man named Takahama lived in a little house behind the cemetery of the temple of Sōzanji. He was extremely amiable and generally liked by his neighbours, though most of them considered him to be a little mad. His madness, it would appear, entirely rested upon the fact that he had never married or evinced desire for intimate companionship with women.
One summer day he became very ill, so ill, in fact, that he sent for his sister-in-law and her son. They both came and did all they could to bring comfort during his last hours. While they watched Takahama fell asleep; but he had no sooner done so than a large white butterfly flew into the room, and rested on the old man's pillow. The young man tried to drive it away with a fan; but it came back three times, as if loth to leave the sufferer.
At last Takahama's nephew chased it out into the garden, through the gate, and into the cemetery beyond, where it lingered over a woman's tomb, and then mysteriously disappeared. On examining the tomb the young man found the name "Akiko" written upon it,together with a description narrating how Akiko died when she was eighteen. Though the tomb was covered with moss and must have been erected fifty years previously, the boy saw that it was surrounded with flowers, and that the little water-tank had been recently filled.
When the young man returned to the house he found that Takahama had passed away, and he returned to his mother and told her what he had seen in the cemetery.
"Akiko?" murmured his mother. "When your uncle was young he was betrothed to Akiko. She died of consumption shortly before her wedding-day. When Akiko left this world your uncle resolved never to marry and to live ever near her grave. For all these years he has remained faithful to his vow, and kept in his heart all the sweet memories of his one and only love. Every day Takahama went to the cemetery, whether the air was fragrant with summer breeze or thick with falling, snow. Every day he went to her grave and prayed for her happiness, swept the tomb and set flowers there. When Takahama was dying, and he could no longer perform his loving task, Akiko came for him. That white butterfly was her sweet and loving soul."
Just before Takahama passed away into the Land of the Yellow Spring he may have murmured words like those of Yone Noguchi:
"Where the flowers sleep,Thank God! I shall sleep to-night.Oh, come, butterfly!"[1]
[1]Legends concerning other insects will be found in Chapter XXIII.
[1]Legends concerning other insects will be found in Chapter XXIII.
TheSan-ga-nichi, or "three days" of the New Year, is one of the most important of the Japanese festivals, for the Japanese make far more of the New Year than we do in this country. They regard the first three days of the year as a fitting occasion when it is most important to insure good luck and happiness for the days that follow, and in order to bring this about many quaint and ancient observances take place. Before the houses are decorated a thorough winter cleaning is carried out. "In ancient times," writes Mrs. C. M. Salwey, "from the Court of the Emperor to the hut of the peasant, this attention was observed to such an extent that the Shōgun's Court provided overseers, who visited with ornamented dusting poles, to overhaul the labour of the servants, passing their official brooms over ledges and crevices, and in so doing flourishing in a certain manner their mystic wands to demonstrate the Chinese ideograph which signified water." Not only is the house thoroughly cleaned and everything put in order, but evil spirits are got rid of by throwing out peas and beans from the openshoji, or paper slides.
On the festival of the New Year the houses and gate-posts are adorned with straw ropes, and these are often made to represent such lucky Chinese numbers as three, five, and seven. The food chiefly eaten on this occasion comprises lobsters (their bent and ancient appearance suggesting long life), oranges, and certain varieties of edible seaweeds. In addition there are mirror cakes, associated with the Sun Goddess, and these cakes, composed of rice, are eaten with the oranges and lobster, and served on pure white trays. One other importantdecoration must not be overlooked, and that is the branches of the pine-tree. These branches symbolise long life, and for some unknown reason they are burnt when the festival is over.
One of the most picturesque customs associated with this festival, and one particularly appealing to children, is the Treasure Ship with the Seven Gods of Good Luck on board, to which we have referred elsewhere.[1]
TheTango no Sekku, or Boys' Festival, takes place on May 5, and is intended to inspire the youth of Japan with warlike qualities. It is the day when flags are to be seen in every direction, when the roofs of the houses are decorated with the leaves of iris, so that Nature's flag and the flag made by human hands are both conspicuous on this joyous festival, which is popularly known as the Feast of Flags. Boys are presented with small figures representing certain great heroes of the past, while ancient swords, bows, arrows, spears, &c., are handed down from one generation of children to another.
Perhaps the dominant feature of this festival is the paper flag shaped like a carp. It is hollow, and when inflated with wind has the appearance of vigorously flying through the air. The carp symbolises something more than the crude spirit of warfare, for it typifies tenacity of purpose and indomitable courage. As the carp swims against the stream, so is the Japanese youth expected to fight against all the fierce currents of adversity. This idea is probably derived from the fascinating Chinese legend of the Dragon Carp which, after a long struggle, succeeded in swimming past the Dragon Gate rapids, lived a thousand years, and finally rose into the sky.
The Festival of the Dead, orBommatsuri, deserves mention here because it contains much that is legendary. The Japanese peasant's conception of a future life is not a very delightful one. At death the body is washed and shaven and then arrayed in a pure white garment—indeed, in the garment of a pilgrim. Round the neck is hung a wallet containing three or sixrin, according to the custom of the place in which the death occurs, and theserinare buried with the deceased. The idea of burying coin with the dead is to be found in the belief that all who die, children alone excepted, must journey to the Sanzu-no-Kawa, or "The River of the Three Roads." On the bank of this dismal river Sodzu-Baba, the Old Woman of the Three Roads, awaits the coming of souls, together with her husband, Ten Datsu-Ba. If threerinare not paid to the Old Woman she takes away the white garments of the dead and, regardless of entreaties, hangs them on trees. Then there is the no less formidable Emma-Ō, the Lord of the Dead; and when we add to these dread figures some of the terrors of the Buddhist hells it is not surprising that the gentle and poetical Japanese should have founded a festival that will afford a pleasant, if all too brief, respite from the horrors of Hades.
The festival takes place from July 13 to 15. At such a time most of the houses are mere skeletons, being open to the summer breeze on all sides. People saunter about in the lightest of garments. Butterflies and dragon-flies disport in countless numbers, flying over a cool stretch of lotus or settling on the purple petal of an iris. Fuji rears her great head into the clear blue sky, bearing like a white scarf a patch of fast-fading snow.
When the morning of the 13th arrives new mats of rice straw are spread upon all Buddhist altars and on the little household shrines. Every Japanese home on that day is provided with a quaint, minute meal in readiness for the great company of ghosts.
At sunset the streets are bright with the flames of torches, and the entrances of houses gay with brightly coloured lanterns. Those to whom this festival applies in a particular sense and not in a general one—that is to say, those who have recently lost some dear one—go out on this night to the cemeteries, and there pray, make offerings, burn incense, and pour out water. Lanterns are lit and bamboo vases filled with flowers.
On the evening of the 15th the ghosts of the Circle of Penance or Gakidō are fed, and in addition those ghosts who have no friends among the living to care for them. There is a legend bearing upon this particular phase of the Festival of the Dead. Dai-Mokenren, a great disciple of Buddha, was once permitted to see the soul of his mother in the Gakidō. He grieved so much on account of intense suffering that he gave her a bowl containing choice food. Every time she tried to eat the food would suddenly turn into fire, and finally to ashes. Then Mokenren asked Buddha to tell him what he could do to ease his mother's suffering. He was told to feed the ghosts of the great priests of all countries "on the fifteenth day of the seventh month." When this had been done Mokenren returned, to find his mother dancing for joy. In this happy dance after much tribulation we trace the origin of theBon-odori, which takes place on the third night of the festival.
When the evening of the third day arrives preparations are made for the departure of the ghosts. Thousands of little boats are packed with food and loving messages of farewell. Into these boats step thedeparting ghosts. Loving hands set these frail craft upon river, lake, or sea. A small lantern glows at the prow, while pale blue clouds of incense float up from the stern. Hearn writes: "Down all the creeks and rivers and canals the phantom fleets go glimmering to the sea; and all the sea sparkles to the horizon with the lights of the dead, and the sea wind is fragrant with incense."
There is a pathetic charm about this festival. It is by no means unique, for it corresponds to the IndianSraddha; but in Japan it is touched with a more delicate and haunting beauty. No one has been able to solve conclusively the origin of theTorii, that wonderful gateway that leads nowhere. What a charming entrance or exit for a company of wandering souls! What a place for ghosts to play and dream awhile is a Japanese garden, with its lake and moon-shaped bridge, its stone lantern, its paths of silver sand! And what a street for ghosts to wander in is the Street Everlasting that is so near to the Street of Aged Men! Thus Yone Noguchi sums up the magic of a Japanese night, one of those three nights when souls come in touch with old earthly memories:
"The scented purple breezes of the Japanese night!The old moon like a fairy ship of goldSoftly through the dream sea begins to rock on:(I hear the unheard song of Beauty in the moon ship,I hear even the whisper of her golden dress.)The hundred lanterns burning in love and prayer,Float on the streets like haunting memories.The silvery music of wooden clogs of the Japanese girls!Are they not little ghosts out of the bosom of ancient age?Are they returning to fulfil their thousand fancies forgotten?O the fancy world of the Japanese nightBorn out of the old love and unfulfilled desires!The crying love-song of the Japanese night,Thesamisenmusic of hungry passion and tears!O the long wail of heart through the darkness and love!"
Numerous other Japanese festivities take place during the year, and two, the Festival of Dolls and the Festival of Tanabata, the Weaving Maiden, have been referred to elsewhere. Perhaps in some way the Laughing Festival of Wasa is the most quaint of all the Japanese festivities. During the month of October a number of old men form a procession carrying two boxes full of oranges and persimmons spitted on sticks. These old men are followed by children with similar fruit on bamboo rods. Just as the leader reaches the shrine he turns round and makes a most ludicrous grimace, which is immediately followed by a merry peal of laughter, and this irresistible merriment has its origin in the following legend.
In the month of October the Gods used to assemble in a great temple at Izumo, and they met for the purpose of arranging the love-affairs of the people. When the Gods were sitting in the temple one of them said: "Where is Miwa Daimyō-jin?" All the Gods looked everywhere for him, but he was not to be found. Now Miwa Daimyō-jin was extremely deaf, and, owing to this defect, he had mistaken the great day when the Gods met together. When he reached Izumo the meeting had been dissolved, and all the Gods laughed very much when they heard about it, a laughter that is imitated year by year in the Laughing festival to which we have referred.
We have referred in this chapter and elsewhere to thetorii, and though authorities agree to differ in regard to its use and origin, the theme is a fascinating one and well worthy of study. According to a popularaccount the wordtoriimeans "fowl-dwelling" or "bird-rest." On the top beam of this imposing gateway the fowls heralded the approach of dawn, and in their cry bade the priests attend to their early morning prayers. In one legend we are informed that the sun descends to earth in the form of the Ho-Ho Bird, messenger of love, peace, and goodwill, and rests upon one of thetorii.
Professor B. H. Chamberlain regards the "bird-rest" etymology and the theories derived from it as erroneous, and believes that thetoriicame originally from Asia. He writes, inThings Japanese: "The Koreans erect somewhat similar gateways at the approach of their royal palaces; the Chinesep'ai lou, serving to record the virtues of male or female worthies, seem related in shape as well as in use; and the occurrence of the wordturanin Northern India and of the wordtoriin Central India, to denote gateways of strikingly cognate appearance, gives matter for reflection." Dr. W. G. Aston also believes that thetoriicame from abroad, "but holds that it was fitted with a pre-existing name, which would have originally designated 'a lintel' before it came to have its present sacred associations."[2]
In regard to the construction of these gateways, Mrs. C. M. Salwey writes: "The oldesttoriiof Japan ... were constructed of plain unvarnished wood. In fact, they were built of straight, upright trunks of trees in their natural state, though sometimes bereft of the outer bark. Later on the wood was painted a deep, rich vermilion, possibly to heighten the effect when the background was densely wooded." Though thetoriiwas originally associated with Shintōism, it was later on adopted by the Buddhists, who considerably altered its simple but beautiful construction by turning up thecorners of the horizontal beams, supplying inscriptions and ornaments of various kinds.
Whatever the origin and significance of the Shintōtoriimay be, no one will deny its exquisite beauty, and many will agree in believing it to be the most perfect gateway in the world. Perhaps the most wonderfultoriiis the one that stands before the Itsukushima shrine on the Island of Myajima, and it is called "The Footstool of the King," "The Gateway of Light," or "The Water Gate of the Sacred Island."
Mrs. Salwey writes: "Is not this Gateway the symbol of the Right Direction, according to the dogmas of the Shintō Cult, the Goal towards which the face should be turned—'The Way of the Gods.' Are they not monitors writing their mystic message as an ideographic sign over the Lord of the Gods before the rising and setting sun, enhancing by their presence the dense luxuriance of cryptomerian avenue, reflecting within dark, still rivers or the silver ripples of the Inland Sea?" We must be content with this pleasing interpretation of the symbolism of thetorii, for it takes us through the gate of conflicting theories, and gives us something more satisfying than the ramifications of etymology.