Then twice, within the time of three days, those masters of life
and death whose ways belong to the eternal mysteries struck at
her heart. First she was taught that the gentle husband for whom
she had so often prayed never could return to her,--having been
returned unto that dust out of which all forms are borrowed. And
in another little while she knew her boy slept so deep a sleep
that the Chinese physician could not waken him. These things she
learned only as shapes are learned in lightning flashes. Between
and beyond the flashes was that absolute darkness which is the
pity of the gods.
It passed; and she rose to meet a foe whose name is Memory.
Before all others she could keep her face, as in other days,
sweet and smiling. But when alone with this visitant, she found
herself less strong. She would arrange little toys and spread
out little dresses on the matting, and look at them, and talk to
them in whispers, and smile silently. But the smile would ever
end in a burst of wild, loud weeping; and she would beat her head
upon the floor, and ask foolish questions of the gods.
One day she thought of a weird consolation,--that rite the
people name Toritsu-banashi,--the evocation of the dead. Could
she not call back her boy for one brief minute only? It would
trouble the little soul; but would he not gladly bear a moment's
pain for her dear sake? Surely!
[To have the dead called back one must go to some priest--Buddhist
or Shinto--who knows the rite of incantation. And the
mortuary tablet, or ihai, of the dead must be brought to that
priest.
Then ceremonies of purification are performed; candles are
lighted and incense is kindled before the ihai; and prayers or
parts of sutras are recited; and offerings of flowers and of rice
are made. But, in this case, the rice must not be cooked.
And when everything has been made ready, the priest, taking in
his left hand an instrument shaped like a bow, and striking it
rapidly with his right, calls upon the name of the dead, and
cries out the words, Kitazo yo! kitazo yo! kitazo yo! meaning, "I
have come(1)." And, as he cries, the tone of his voice gradually
changes until it becomes the very voice of the dead person,--for
the ghost enters into him.
Then the dead will answer questions quickly asked, but will cry
continually: "Hasten, hasten! for this my coming back is painful,
and I have but a little time to stay!" And having answered, the
ghost passes; and the priest falls senseless upon his face.
Now to call back the dead is not good. For by calling them back
their condition is made worse. Returning to the underworld, they
must take a place lower than that which they held before.
To-day these rites are not allowed by law. They once consoled;
but the law is a good law, and just,--since there exist men
willing to mock the divine which is in human hearts.]
So it came to pass that O-Toyo found herself one night in a
lonely little temple at the verge of the city,--kneeling before
the ihai of her boy, and hearing the rite of incantation. And
presently, out of the lips of the officiant there came a voice
she thought she knew,--a voice loved above all others,--but faint
and very thin, like a sobbing of wind.