Ancient Tales and Folk-Lore of Japan, Richard Gordon Smith [best ebook reader ubuntu .txt] 📗

were crescent-shaped, like those of Buddha; her mouth was like flowers. In a silvery voice she called to Okureha, saying:

‘Be neither surprised nor afraid, my child. I saw that you were in danger, and I came to your rescue by putting that savage creature to sleep; I sent the warm breeze so that you might not fall. You need not fear that the man is dead. I can revive him if I choose, or keep him as he is if I wish. What is your name?’

Okureha fell on her knees to express her thanks, and, rising, said: ‘My name is Okureha. My father is the samurai who owns the greater part of the village of Tashiro, at the foot of the mountain. My mother being

34. The Goddess of Mount Daimugenzan

ill, I have come up to this old shrine to pray Kwannon for her recovery. Five times have I been up before, but never met any one until to-day, when this dreadful man attacked me. I owe my deliverance entirely to you, holy lady, and I am humbly and deeply grateful. I do hope I shall be able to come here and pray at this shrine again. My father and mother prayed here before I was born both to Kwannon and to the Tennin 1 of the mountain. They had no child, and I was sent to them after their prayers. Therefore it is right that I should come here to pray for my mother; but this horrid man has frightened me so that I shall be afraid to come alone again.’

The Mountain Goddess (for such was Okureha’s rescuer) smiled, and said: ‘You need have no fear, my pretty child. Come here when you will, and I shall be your protector. Children who are as devoted to their parents as you are deserve all that is good, and are holy in themselves. If you wish to please me, come again tomorrow, so that we may converse; and bring me some flowers from the fields, for I never descend low enough on earth to get these, though they are my favourites—they smell so sweet. And now you had better go home. When you have had time to reach there I will restore this horrid man to life and let him go. He is not likely to return to molest you.’

‘I shall be here tomorrow,’ said Okureha, bowing her thanks amid her ‘Sayonaras.’

Okureha San was so much impressed by the face of the Goddess that she could not sleep, and at daybreak next morning was out in the fields gathering flowers, which she took up the mountain to the shrine, where she found the goddess waiting.

They talked on many subjects, and enjoyed each other’s company, and arranged to meet often. Consequently, whenever Okureha had time she always went up the mountain. This continued for nearly a year, when Okureha went up with flowers for the goddess as usual; but she was looking sad, and felt sad.

‘Why is this?’ asked the goddess. ‘Why are you so sad?’

‘Ah, your Holiness is right,’ said Okureha. ‘I am sad, for this may be the last day I can come up here and see you. I am now seventeen years of age, and my parents think me old enough to marry. Twelve years ago my father arranged that I should marry the son of one of his friends, Tokue, of Iwasakimura, when we were old enough. Now I am said to be old enough: so I must marry. The wedding is to be in three days. After that I shall have to stay at home and work for my husband, and I fear I shall not see you any more. That is why I am sad.’ As she spoke tears ran down her cheeks, and there was for a few moments no consoling her; but the goddess soothed her, saying:

‘You must not be sad, dear child. On the contrary, you are about to enter the happiest state of life, by being married. If people were not married, and did not produce children to inherit new spirits and life, there could be no continuation. Go back, my child, happily; get married and produce children. You will be happy and doing your duty to the world and to the goddess. Before we say farewell, I give you this small gourd of furoshu. 1 Take care of it on your way down the mountain, and when you are married give some to your husband. You will both remain as you are in appearance, never growing a day older though you live for centuries, as you will do; and also it will bring you perfect happiness. Now, farewell!’

Again the tears came to Okureha’s eyes as she bade farewell to her benefactress; but she mustered all her pluck, and, making her last bow, took her way down the mountain, weeping as she went. Three days later Okureha was married. It was a lucky day according to the calendars, and, moreover, it was the year that the Emperor Toba came to the throne, 1108 A.D.

One day, when celebrating this event at a picnic, Okureha gave her husband some of the furoshu saké, and took the rest herself, as the goddess had bidden her. They were sitting on a beautiful green grassy spot, whereon grew wild violets of delicious fragrance; at their feet gurgled a mountain stream of sparkling clearness. To their surprise, they found petals of cherry blossom suddenly falling all round them. There were no cherry trees near, and at first they were much puzzled; but they saw in the blue sky one white cloud which had just sailed over them, and seated thereon was the Goddess of Mount Daimugenzan. Okureha recognised her, and pointed her out to her husband as their benefactress. The white cloud carried her up to the top of the mountain, where it hovered until the shades of evening hid it.

Okureha and her husband never grew older. They lived for hundreds of years as Sennins in Mount Daimugenzan.

Footnotes

180:1 Angel.

182:1 Sake wine of perpetual youth.

35. The Old Hermit Entertains the Children XXX THE HERMIT’S CAVE

MANY years ago there lived in the village of Nomugi, in Hida Province, an old farmer named Jinnai, with his wife. They had a daughter on whom they simply doted. Her name was Yuka. She was seven years of age, and an extremely beautiful child. Unfortunately, just at this age she developed something the matter with her leg, which grew worse and worse until the limb became deformed. O Yuka suffered no pain; but her parents were much troubled. Doctors, drugs, and the advice of many friends made Yuka’s leg no better.

‘How sad it will be for her later on!’ thought her mother and father. ‘Even now it is sad that she should have a deformed leg when she plays with other children.’

There being no help, Yuka and her parents had to make the best of things. In any case, Yuka was not the only deformity in the village. There were other cases.—One of Yuka’s boy playmates, Tarako, had been born blind; and another, Rinkichi, was so deaf that he could hold his ear to the temple bell while the other children struck it, and he never heard the sound, though he felt a vibration. Well, these two were perhaps no better off than Yuka, and at last her parents began to console themselves. The child played about and seemed perfectly happy.

Nomugi village is at the foot of the great mountain Norikuradake, which rises 10,500 feet, and is a wild place of volcanic origin.

Many of the children of Nomugi used to go daily and play on the grassy slope of an old dam at the end of the village. They would throw stones into the water, fish, sail boats, and pick flowers. The dam was a kind of club for the children. From morning to evening they were there, having with them their rice to eat.

One day, while thus playing, they were surprised by an old man with a long white beard approaching them. He came from the direction of the mountain. All stopped their games to watch him. He came on into their midst, and, patting them on the head, seemed to make friends naturally. Taking notice of Yuka’s bad leg, the old man said: ‘Come! how is this? Have not your parents tried to cure it?’ Little Yuka answered that they had, but that they could not do any good. The old man made her lie down on the grass, and began to manipulate the leg, pulling it this way and that way, and rubbed in some red medicine which he took from a case. The old man then operated on Tarako the blind boy, and on Rinkichi the deaf one.

‘Now, my children,’ said he, ‘you all love your fathers and mothers, and it will be a great pleasure to them to find you cured of your ailments. You are not well yet; but you will be, if you do what I tell you, in less than three or four days. You are not to mention having seen me until I tell you that you may—after you are cured. Tomorrow you will meet me at the flat rock under the cave on Mount Norikuradake. You know the place. Very well: until tomorrow good-bye, and if I find you do as I tell you I will make you all laugh by showing you some fancy tricks.’ Then he trudged off in the direction whence he had come.

The children continued their play, thinking ‘What a nice old man!’ And, strange to say, O Yuka, as she walked home, felt her leg to be of greater use.

Very little attention is paid to Japanese children. They are nearly always good and well-behaved, little grown-up people in fact; and therefore they ate their suppers and went to bed as such, giving no account of their day’s amusements, or of the strange old man.

Next day they went to the flat rock. As it was wet, they had not started until late; but they found the old man, and, though he had no time to play with them and show the tricks which he had promised, he attended to Yuka’s leg, and to the dumb boy and the blind.

‘Now go home,’ he said, ‘and come back here tomorrow. By the time you get home Yuka’s leg will be well, Tarako will be able to see, and Rinkichi able to hear; and I am sure your relations will be delighted. Tomorrow, if it is fine, you must come early, and we shall have lots of fun.’

Even before they got home everything came about as the old man had said. The three children were recovered. The villagers and the parents rejoiced together; but all were mystified as to who the magician could be.

‘If he returns to the mountain, as the children say, then he must live in the cave,’ said one. ‘He must be a Sennin,’ said another. ‘It is rumoured that the most famous priest, Kukai shonin, who founded the sacred temple on Mount Koyasan, in Kii Province, was able to make these wondrous cures in children,’ added another. But, with all the gossiping and conjectures, none could explain how it was possible to bring sight to a boy who had been born blind. At last some one suggested that two or three should follow the children secretly on the following day: by hiding themselves they might be able to see what happened. This excellent plan was adopted.

In the morning about thirty children started off at daybreak, followed, unknown to themselves, by two men of the village.

When the children arrived at the flat rock—which is said to be large enough to measure one thousand Japanese