In the very heart of a mountain range, while rolling along the verge
of a precipice above rice-fields, I catch sight of a little shrine in
a cavity of the cliff overhanging the way, and halt to examine it. The
sides and sloping roof of the shrine are formed by slabs of unhewn
rock. Within smiles a rudely chiselled image of
Bato-Kwannon--Kwannon-with-the-Horse's-Head--and before it bunches of
wild flowers have been placed, and an earthen incense-cup, and scattered
offerings of dry rice. Contrary to the idea suggested by the strange
name, this form of Kwannon is not horse-headed; but the head of a horse
is sculptured upon the tiara worn by the divinity. And the symbolism is
fully explained by a large wooden sotoba planted beside the shrine, and
bearing, among other inscriptions, the words, 'Bato Kwan-ze-on Bosatsu,
giu ba bodai han ye.' For Bato-Kwannon protects the horses and the
cattle of the peasant; and he prays her not only that his dumb servants
may be preserved from sickness, but also that their spirits may enter
after death, into a happier state of existence. Near the sotoba there
has been erected a wooden framework about four feet square, filled
with little tablets of pine set edge to edge so as to form one smooth
surface; and on these are written, in rows of hundreds, the names of all
who subscribed for the statue and its shrine. The number announced is
ten thousand. But the whole cost could not have exceeded ten Japanese
dollars (yen); wherefore I surmise that each subscriber gave not more
than one rin--one tenth of one sen, or cent. For the hyakusho are
unspeakably poor. [2]
In the midst of these mountain solitudes, the discovery of that little
shrine creates a delightful sense of security. Surely nothing save
goodness can be expected from a people gentle-hearted enough to pray for
the souls of their horses and cows. [3]
As we proceed rapidly down a slope, my kurumaya swerves to one side with
a suddenness that gives me a violent start, for the road overlooks a
sheer depth of several hundred feet. It is merely to avoid hurting a
harmless snake making its way across the path. The snake is so little
afraid that on reaching the edge of the road it turns its head to look
after us.