A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

Glimpses of an Unfamiliar Japan

L >> Lafcadio Hearn >> Glimpses of an Unfamiliar Japan




All about Oba you may see many sekirei or wagtails-birds sacred to
Izanami and Izanagi--for a legend says that from the sekirei the gods
first learned the art of love. And none, not even the most avaricious
farmer, ever hurts or terrifies these birds. So that they do not fear
the people of Oba, nor the scarecrows in the fields.

The God of Scarecrows is Sukuna-biko-na-no-Kami.

º3

The path to Sakusa, for the last mile of the journey, at least, is
extremely narrow, and has been paved by piety with large flat rocks laid
upon the soil at intervals of about a foot, like an interminable line of
stepping-stones. You cannot walk between them nor beside them, and you
soon tire of walking upon them; but they have the merit of indicating
the way, a matter of no small importance where fifty rice-field paths
branch off from your own at all bewildering angles. After having been
safely guided by these stepping-stones through all kinds of labyrinths
in rice valleys and bamboo groves, one feels grateful to the peasantry
for that clue-line of rocks. There are some quaint little shrines in the
groves along this path--shrines with curious carvings of dragons and of
lion-heads and flowing water--all wrought ages ago in good keyaki-wood,
[3] which has become the colour of stone. But the eyes of the dragons
and the lions have been stolen because they were made of fine crystal-
quartz, and there was none to guard them, and because neither the laws
nor the gods are quite so much feared now as they were before the period
of Meiji.

Sakusa is a very small cluster of farmers' cottages before a temple at
the verge of a wood--the temple of Yaegaki. The stepping-stones of the
path vanish into the pavement of the court, just before its lofty
unpainted wooden torii Between the torii and the inner court, entered by
a Chinese gate, some grand old trees are growing, and there are queer
monuments to see. On either side of the great gateway is a shrine
compartment, inclosed by heavy wooden gratings on two sides; and in
these compartments are two grim figures in complete armour, with bows in
their hands and quivers of arrows upon their backs,-.-the Zuijin, or
ghostly retainers of the gods, and guardians of the gate. Before nearly
all the Shinto temples of Izumo, except Kitzuki, these Zuijin keep grim
watch. They are probably of Buddhist origin; but they have acquired a
Shinto history and Shinto names. [4] Originally, I am told, there was
but one Zuijin-Kami, whose name was Toyo-kushi-iwa-mato-no-mikoto. But
at a certain period both the god and his name were cut in two--perhaps
for decorative purposes. And now he who sits upon the left is called
Toyo-iwa-ma-to-no-mikoto; and his companion on the right, Kushi-iwa-ma-
to-no-mikoto.

Before the gate, on the left side, there is a stone monument upon which
is graven, in Chinese characters, a poem in Hokku, or verse of seventeen
syllables, composed by Cho-un:

Ko-ka-ra-shi-ya
Ka-mi-no-mi-yu-ki-no
Ya-ma-no-a-to.

My companion translates the characters thus:--'Where high heap the dead
leaves, there is the holy place upon the hills, where dwell the gods.'
Near by are stone lanterns and stone lions, and another monument--a
great five-cornered slab set up and chiselled--bearing the names in
Chinese characters of the Ji-jin, or Earth-Gods--the Deities who
protect the soil: Uga-no-mitama-no-mikoto (whose name signifies the
August Spirit-of-Food), Ama-terasu-oho-mi-Kami, Ona-muji-no-Kami, Kaki-
yasu-hime-no-Kami, Sukuna-hiko-na-no-Kami (who is the Scarecrow God).
And the figure of a fox in stone sits before the Name of the August
Spirit-of-Food.

The miya or Shinto temple itself is quite small--smaller than most of
the temples in the neighbourhood, and dingy, and begrimed with age. Yet,
next to Kitzuki, this is the most famous of Izumo shrines. The main
shrine, dedicated to Susano-o and Inada-hime and their son, whose name
is the name of the hamlet of Sakusa, is flanked by various lesser
shrines to left and right. In one of these smaller miya the spirit of
Ashi-nadzu-chi, father of Inada-hime, is supposed to dwell; and in
another that of Te-nadzu-chi, the mother of Inada-hime. There is also a
small shrine of the Goddess of the Sun. But these shrines have no
curious features. The main temple offers, on the other hand, some
displays of rarest interest.

To the grey weather-worn gratings of the doors of the shrine hundreds
and hundreds of strips of soft white paper have been tied in knots:
there is nothing written upon them, although each represents a heart's
wish and a fervent prayer. No prayers, indeed, are so fervent as those
of love. Also there are suspended many little sections of bamboo, cut
just below joints so as to form water receptacles: these are tied
together in pairs with a small straw cord which also serves to hang them
up. They contain offerings of sea-water carried here from no small
distance. And mingling with the white confusion of knotted papers there
dangle from the gratings many tresses of girls' hair--love-sacrifices
[5]--and numerous offerings of seaweed, so filamentary and so sun-
blackened that at some little distance it would not be easy to
distinguish them from long shorn tresses. And all the woodwork of the
doors and the gratings, both beneath and between the offerings, is
covered with a speckling of characters graven or written, which are
names of pilgrims.

And my companion reads aloud the well-remembered name of--AKIRA!

If one dare judge the efficacy of prayer to these kind gods of Shinto
from the testimony of their worshippers, I should certainly say that
Akira has good reason to hope. Planted in the soil, all round the edge
of the foundations of the shrine, are multitudes of tiny paper flags of
curious shape (nobori), pasted upon splinters of bamboo. Each of these
little white things is a banner of victory, and a lover's witness of
gratitude. [6] You will find such little flags stuck into the ground
about nearly all the great Shinto temples of Izumo. At Kitzuki they
cannot even be counted--any more than the flakes of a snowstorm.

And here is something else that you will find at most of the famous miya
in Izumo--a box of little bamboo sticks, fastened to a post before the
doors. If you were to count the sticks, you would find their number to
be exactly one thousand. They are counters for pilgrims who make a vow
to the gods to perform a sendo-mairi. To perform a sendo-mairi means to
visit the temple one thousand times. This, however, is so hard to do
that busy pious men make a sort of compromise with the gods, thus: they
walk from the shrine one foot beyond the gate, and back again to the
shrine, one thousand times--all in one day, keeping count with the
little splints of bamboo.

There is one more famous thing to be seen before visiting the holy grove
behind the temple, and that is the Sacred Tama-tsubaki, or Precious-
Camellia of Yaegaki. It stands upon a little knoll, fortified by a
projection-wall, in a rice-field near the house of the priest; a fence
has been built around it, and votive lamps of stone placed before it. It
is of vast age, and has two heads and two feet; but the twin trunks grow
together at the middle. Its unique shape, and the good quality of
Iongevity it is believed to possess in common with all of its species,
cause itto be revered as a symbol of undying wedded love, and as
tenanted by the Kami who hearken to lovers' prayers--enmusubi-no-kami.

There is, however, a strange superstition, about tsubaki-trees; and this
sacred tree of Yaegaki, in the opinion of some folk, is a rare exception
to the general ghastliness of its species. For tsubaki-trees are goblin
trees, they say, and walk about at night; and there was one in the
garden of a Matsue samurai which did this so much that it had to be cut
down. Then it writhed its arms and groaned, and blood spurted at every
stroke of the axe.

º4

At the spacious residence of the kannushi some very curious ofuda and o-
mamori--the holy talismans and charms of Yaegaki--are sold, together
with pictures representing Take-haya-susa-no-wo-no-mikoto and his bride
Inada-hime surrounded by the 'manifold fence' of clouds. On the pictures
is also printed the august song whence the temple derives its name of
Yaegaki-jinja,--'Ya kumo tatsu Idzumo ya-he-gaki.' Of the o-mamori
there is quite a variety; but by far the most interesting is that
labelled: 'Izumo-Yaegaki-jinja-en-musubi-on-hina' (August wedlock--
producing 'hina' of the temple of Yaegaki of Izumo). This oblong, folded
paper, with Chinese characters and the temple seal upon it, is purchased
only by those in love, and is believed to assure nothing more than the
desired union. Within the paper are two of the smallest conceivable
doll-figures (hina), representing a married couple in antique costume--
the tiny wife folded to the breast of the tiny husband by one long-
sleeved arm. It is the duty of whoever purchases this mamori to return
it to the temple if he or she succeed in marrying the person beloved. As
already stated, the charm is not supposed to assure anything more than
the union: it cannot be accounted responsible for any consequences
thereof. He who desires perpetual love must purchase another mamori
labelled: 'Renri-tama-tsubaki-aikyo-goki-to-on-mamori' (August amulet of
august prayer-for-kindling-love of the jewel-precious tsubaki-tree-of-
Union). This charm should maintain at constant temperature the warmth of
affection; it contains only a leaf of the singular double-bodied
camelliatree beforementioned. There are also small amulets for exciting
love, and amulets for the expelling of diseases, but these have no
special characteristics worth dwelling upon.

Then we take our way to the sacred grove--the Okuno-in, or Mystic
Shades of Yaegaki.

º5

This ancient grove--so dense that when you first pass into its shadows
out of the sun all seems black--is composed of colossal cedars and
pines, mingled with bamboo, tsubaki (Camellia Japonica), and sakaki, the
sacred and mystic tree of Shinto. The dimness is chiefly made by the
huge bamboos. In nearly all sacred groves bamboos are thickly set
between the trees, and their feathery foliage, filling every lofty
opening between the heavier crests, entirely cuts off the sun. Even in a
bamboo grove where no other trees are, there is always a deep twilight.

As the eyes become accustomed to this green gloaming, a pathway outlines
itself between the trees--a pathway wholly covered with moss, velvety,
soft, and beautifully verdant. In former years, when all pilgrims were
required to remove their footgear before entering the sacred grove, this
natural carpet was a boon to the weary. The next detail one observes is
that the trunks of many of the great trees have been covered with thick
rush matting to a height of seven or eight feet, and that holes have
been torn through some of the mats. All the giants of the grove are
sacred; and the matting was bound about them to prevent pilgrims from
stripping off their bark, which is believed to possess miraculous
virtues. But many, more zealous than honest, do not hesitate to tear
away the matting in order to get at the bark. And the third curious fact
which you notice is that the trunks of the great bamboos are covered
with ideographs--with the wishes of lovers and the names of girls.
There is nothing in the world of vegetation so nice to write a
sweetheart's name upon as the polished bark of a bamboo: each letter,
however lightly traced at first, enlarges and blackens with the growth
of the bark, and never fades away.

The deeply mossed path slopes down to a little pond in the very heart of
the grove--a pond famous in the land of Izumo. Here there are many
imori, or water-newts, about five inches long, which have red bellies.
Here the shade is deepest, and the stems of the bamboos most thickly
tattooed with the names of girls. It is believed that the flesh of the
newts in the sacred pond of Yaegaki possesses aphrodisiac qualities; and
the body of the creature, reduced to ashes, by burning, was formerly
converted into love-powders. And there is a little Japanese song
referring to the practice:

'Hore-gusuri koka niwa naika to imori ni toeba, yubi-wo marumete kore
bakari.' [7]

The water is very clear; and there are many of these newts to be seen.
And it is the custom for lovers to make a little boat of paper, and put
into it one rin, and set it afloat and watch it. So soon as the paper
becomes wet through, and allows the water to enter it, the weight of the
copper coin soon sends it to the bottom, where, owing to the purity of
the water, it can be still seen distinctly as before. If the newts then
approach and touch it, the lovers believe their happiness assured by the
will of the gods; but if the newts do not come near it, the omen is
evil. One poor little paper boat, I observe, could not sink at all; it
simply floated to the inaccessible side of the pond, where the trees
rise like a solid wall of trunks from the water's edge, and there became
caught in some drooping branches. The lover who launched it must have
departed sorrowing at heart.

Close to the pond, near the pathway, there are many camellia-bushes, of
which the tips of the branches have been tied together, by pairs, with
strips of white paper. These are shrubs of presage. The true lover must
be able to bend two branches together, and to keep them united by tying
a paper tightly about them--all with the fingers of one hand. To do
this well is good luck. Nothing is written upon the strips of paper.

But there is enough writing upon the bamboos to occupy curiosity for
many an hour, in spite of the mosquitoes. Most of the names are yobi-na,
-that is to say, pretty names of women; but there are likewise names of
men--jitsumyo; [8] and, oddly enough, a girl's name and a man's are in
no instance written together. To judge by all this ideographic
testimony, lovers in Japan--or at least in Izumo--are even more
secretive than in our Occident. The enamoured youth never writes his own
jitsumyo and his sweetheart's yobi-na together; and the family name, or
myoji, he seldom ventures to inscribe. If he writes his jitsumyo, then
he contents himself with whispering the yobi-na of his sweetheart to the
gods and to the bamboos. If he cuts her yobi-na into the bark, then he
substitutes for his own name a mention of his existence and his age
only, as in this touching instance:

Takata-Toki-to-en-musubi-negaimas. Jiu-hassai-no-otoko [9]

This lover presumes to write his girl's whole name; but the example, so
far as I am able to discover, is unique. Other enamoured ones write only
the yobi-na of their bewitchers; and the honourable prefix, 'O,' and the
honourable suffix, 'San,' find no place in the familiarity of love.
There is no 'O-Haru-San,' 'O-Kin-San,' 'O-Take-San,' 'O-Kiku-San'; but
there are hosts of Haru, and Kin, and Take, and Kiku. Girls, of course,
never dream of writing their lovers' names. But there are many geimyo
here, 'artistic names,'--names of mischievous geisha who worship the
Golden Kitten, written by their saucy selves: Rakue and Asa and Wakai,
Aikichi and Kotabuki and Kohachi, Kohana and Tamakichi and Katsuko, and
Asakichi and Hanakichi and Katsukichi, and Chiyoe and Chiyotsuru.
'Fortunate-Pleasure,' 'Happy-Dawn,' and 'Youth' (such are their
appellations), 'Blest-Love' and 'Length-of-Days,' and 'Blossom-Child'
and 'Jewel-of-Fortune' and 'Child-of-Luck,' and 'Joyous-Sunrise' and
'Flower-of-Bliss' and 'Glorious Victory,' and 'Life-as-the-Stork's-for-
a-thousand-years.' Often shall he curse the day he was born who falls in
love with Happy-Dawn; thrice unlucky the wight bewitched by the Child-
of-Luck; woe unto him who hopes to cherish the Flower-of-Bliss; and more
than once shall he wish himself dead whose heart is snared by Life-as-
the-Stork's-for-a-thou sand-years. And I see that somebody who inscribes
his age as twenty and three has become enamoured of young Wakagusa,
whose name signifies the tender Grass of Spring. Now there is but one
possible misfortune for you, dear boy, worse than falling in love with
Wakagusa--and that is that she should happen to fall in love with you.
Because then you would, both of you, write some beautiful letters to
your friends, and drink death, and pass away in each other's arms,
murmuring your trust to rest together upon the same lotus-flower in
Paradise: 'Hasu no ha no ue ni oite matsu.' Nay! pray the Deities rather
to dissipate the bewitchment that is upon you:

Te ni toru na, Yahari no ni oke Gengebana. [10]

And here is a lover's inscription--in English! Who presumes to suppose
that the gods know English? Some student, no doubt, who for pure shyness
engraved his soul's secret in this foreign tongue of mine--never
dreaming that a foreign eye would look upon it. 'I wish You, Harul' Not
once, but four--no, five times!--each time omitting the preposition.
Praying--in this ancient grove--in this ancient Land of Izumo--unto
the most ancient gods in English! Verily, the shyest love presumes much
upon the forbearance of the gods. And great indeed must be, either the
patience of Take-haya-susano-wo-no-mikoto, or the rustiness of the ten-
grasp sabre that was augustly girded upon him.




Chapter Fifteen Kitsune

º1

By every shady wayside and in every ancient grove, on almost every
hilltop and in the outskirts of every village, you may see, while
travelling through the Hondo country, some little Shinto shrine, before
which, or at either side of which, are images of seated foxes in stone.
Usually there is a pair of these, facing each other. But there may be a
dozen, or a score, or several hundred, in which case most of the images
are very small. And in more than one of the larger towns you may see in
the court of some great miya a countless host of stone foxes, of all
dimensions, from toy-figures but a few inches high to the colossi whose
pedestals tower above your head, all squatting around the temple in
tiered ranks of thousands. Such shrines and temples, everybody knows,
are dedicated to Inari the God of Rice. After having travelled much in
Japan, you will find that whenever you try to recall any country-place
you have visited, there will appear in some nook or corner of that
remembrance a pair of green-and-grey foxes of stone, with broken noses.
In my own memories of Japanese travel, these shapes have become de
rigueur, as picturesque detail.

In the neighbourhood of the capital and in Tokyo itself-sometimes in
the cemeteries--very beautiful idealised figures of foxes may be seen,
elegant as greyhounds. They have long green or grey eyes of crystal
quartz or some other diaphanous substance; and they create a strong
impression as mythological conceptions. But throughout the interior,
fox-images are much less artistically fashioned. In Izumo, particularly,
such stone-carving has a decidedly primitive appearance. There is an
astonishing multiplicity and variety of fox-images in the Province of
the Gods--images comical, quaint, grotesque, or monstrous, but, for the
most part, very rudely chiselled. I cannot, however, declare them less
interesting on that account. The work of the Tokkaido sculptor copies
the conventional artistic notion of light grace and ghostliness. The
rustic foxes of Izumo have no grace: they are uncouth; but they betray
in countless queer ways the personal fancies of their makers. They are
of many moods--whimsical, apathetic, inquisitive, saturnine, jocose,
ironical; they watch and snooze and squint and wink and sneer; they wait
with lurking smiles; they listen with cocked ears most stealthily,
keeping their mouths open or closed. There is an amusing individuality
about them all, and an air of knowing mockery about most of them, even
those whose noses have been broken off. Moreover, these ancient country
foxes have certain natural beauties which their modem Tokyo kindred
cannot show. Time has bestowed upon them divers speckled coats of
beautiful soft colours while they have been sitting on their pedestals,
listening to the ebbing and flowing of the centuries and snickering
weirdly at mankind. Their backs are clad with finest green velvet of old
mosses; their limbs are spotted and their tails are tipped with the dead
gold or the dead silver of delicate fungi. And the places they most
haunt are the loveliest--high shadowy groves where the uguisu sings in
green twilight, above some voiceless shrine with its lamps and its lions
of stone so mossed as to seem things born of the soil--like mushrooms.

I found it difficult to understand why, out of every thousand foxes,
nine hundred should have broken noses. The main street of the city of
Matsue might be paved from end to end with the tips of the noses of
mutilated Izumo foxes. A friend answered my expression of wonder in this
regard by the simple but suggestive word, 'Kodomo', which means, 'The
children'

º2.

Inari the name by which the Fox-God is generally known, signifies 'Load-
of-Rice.' But the antique name of the Deity is the August-Spirit-of-
Food: he is the Uka-no-mi-tama-no-mikoto of the Kojiki. [1] In much more
recent times only has he borne the name that indicates his connection
with the fox-cult, Miketsu-no-Kami, or the Three-Fox-God. Indeed, the
conception of the fox as a supernatural being does not seem to have been
introduced into Japan before the tenth or eleventh century; and although
a shrine of the deity, with statues of foxes, may be found in the court
of most of the large Shinto temples, it is worthy of note that in all
the vast domains of the oldest Shinto shrine in Japan--Kitzuki--you
cannot find the image of a fox. And it is only in modern art--the art
of Toyokuni and others--that Inari is represented as a bearded man
riding a white fox. [2]

Inari is not worshipped as the God of Rice only; indeed, there are many
Inari just as in antique Greece there were many deities called Hermes,
Zeus, Athena, Poseidon--one in the knowledge of the learned, but
essentially different in the imagination of the common people. Inari has
been multiplied by reason of his different attributes. For instance,
Matsue has a Kamiya-San-no-Inari-San, who is the God of Coughs and Bad
Colds--afflictions extremely common and remarkably severe in the Land
of Izumo. He has a temple in the Kamachi at which he is worshipped under
the vulgar appellation of Kaze-no-Kami and the politer one of Kamiya-
San-no-Inari. And those who are cured of their coughs and colds after
having prayed to him, bring to his temple offerings of tofu.

At Oba, likewise, there is a particular Inari, of great fame. Fastened
to the wall of his shrine is a large box full of small clay foxes. The
pilgrim who has a prayer to make puts one of these little foxes in his
sleeve and carries it home, He must keep it, and pay it all due honour,
until such time as his petition has been granted. Then he must take it
back to the temple, and restore it to the box, and, if he be able, make
some small gift to the shrine.

Inari is often worshipped as a healer; and still more frequently as a
deity having power to give wealth. (Perhaps because all the wealth of
Old Japan was reckoned in koku of rice.) Therefore his foxes are
sometimes represented holding keys in their mouths. And from being the
deity who gives wealth, Inari has also become in some localities the
special divinity of the joro class. There is, for example, an Inari
temple worth visiting in the neighbourhood of the Yoshiwara at Yokohama.
It stands in the same court with a temple of Benten, and is more than
usually large for a shrine of Inari. You approach it through a
succession of torii one behind the other: they are of different heights,
diminishing in size as they are placed nearer to the temple, and planted
more and more closely in proportion to their smallness. Before each
torii sit a pair of weird foxes--one to the right and one to the left.
The first pair are large as greyhounds; the second two are much smaller;
and the sizes of the rest lessen as the dimensions of the torii lessen.
At the foot of the wooden steps of the temple there is a pair of very
graceful foxes of dark grey stone, wearing pieces of red cloth about
their necks. Upon the steps themselves are white wooden foxes--one at
each end of each step--each successive pair being smaller than the pair
below; and at the threshold of the doorway are two very little foxes,
not more than three inches high, sitting on sky-blue pedestals. These
have the tips of their tails gilded. Then, if you look into the temple
you will see on the left something like a long low table on which are
placed thousands of tiny fox-images, even smaller than those in the
doorway, having only plain white tails. There is no image of Inari;
indeed, I have never seen an image of Inari as yet in any Inari temple.
On the altar appear the usual emblems of Shinto; and before it, just
opposite the doorway, stands a sort of lantern, having glass sides and a
wooden bottom studded with nail-points on which to fix votive candles.
[3]

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