Long, long ago, in old Japan, there lived near Katano, in the Kawachi
Province, a prince named Bitchu-no-Kami Minetaka or Lord Minetaka, as we
should say in English. He was not only a very wealthy man, but it was
reported that his house was full of rare and wonderful treasures. He was
also a learned man and the master of many accomplishments. His life was
passed in the luxurious leisure of the rich, and he knew nothing of care
or want--perhaps he hardly realized what such words meant.
But above all the treasures in his storehouse, beyond the wealth of his
revenue which came pouring in year by year in bushels of rice, he prized
his only child, his daughter. The prince and his wife brought this
daughter up with great love and tenderness as if she were some rare
flower or fragile butterfly. So beautiful indeed was the young girl that
in looking at her their friends and relations wondered whether the Sun
Goddess Amaterasu had not come to earth again in the form of the little
Princess.
Nothing came to mar the happiness of this united little family till the
daughter was fifteen years of age. Then suddenly the mother, who had
never known a day's illness in her whole life, was taken ill. At first
it seemed to be but a slight cold, but her health, instead of getting
better, only grew worse and worse. She felt that she would never recover
and that her end was very near, so she called her daughter beside her
pillow, and, taking a large lacquer bowl from the bedside, she placed it
on her daughter's head, saying: "My poor little child, I want you always
to wear this bowl. At your innocent age you can understand nothing of
the world in which I must leave you motherless. I pity you with all my
heart; ah! if you were at least seventeen or eighteen years old I could
die with more peace of mind. I am indeed loath to go, leaving you behind
so young. Try to be a good daughter and never forget your mother."
The woman's tears fell fast as she spoke, and her voice was broken with
sobs while she stroked her little girl's hand. But things are not as one
wishes in this life. All the doctor's skill could not save the mother;
she died and left her daughter behind motherless in the world.
Words cannot tell the grief of the bereaved father and child, it was so
great. At last, after some time had passed and the ordinary routine of
life in Prince Minetaka's household was resumed, the father noticed the
bowl which his daughter wore on her head and which fell so low as
completely to hide her face; and calling her to him tried to take off
the unsightly head gear. But his efforts were in vain. All the retainers
and then the servants were summoned to see what they could do, but no
one could remove the bowl; it stuck fast to the child's head. No one
could understand the mystery. The bowl had been put on most simply; why
could it not be as easily taken off? This was the question which the
whole household asked again and again.
And the young Princess, besides sorrowing for the loss of her mother,
was greatly troubled at the knowledge that, though born physically
perfect, she was now quite disfigured for life in having to wear the
ugly bowl which her mother for some unknown reason had placed on her
head. If no one succeeded in taking the bowl off, she might have to wear
it her whole life. That would indeed be a terrible affliction. But in
spite of all she never forgot her mother even for a moment, but carried
in her heart the memory of her love and care through every hour of the
livelong day. Every morning, as soon as she rose from her bed on the
mats, she placed the little cup of tea and the bowl of rice before the
tablet bearing her mother's name in the household shrine, and having set
the incense burning she would kneel and pray for the happiness of her
mother's soul.
The days passed into weeks, the weeks grew into months, yet the dutiful
daughter never failed morning or evening thus to pray for her lost
mother.
In the mean time the family relations often came to advise her father,
Prince Minetaka, to marry again.
"It is not good for you to be alone," they said. "Marry a suitable woman
and entrust her with the keeping of your house and the care of your
young daughter, who is now of an age when she most needs a woman's
care."
At first Prince Minetaka would not listen to them, the memory of his
dead wife was too fresh and his sorrow too keen for him to be able to
lend a willing ear to their persuasion. He felt that it was a reproach
to her he had loved even to think of putting another woman in her place.
But as the months went by he found himself much tried with the affairs
of the household, and was often so perplexed that he thought perhaps it
might be better to listen to the advice of his meddling relations. So
without thinking much about the future he decided to take a second wife.
His friends were glad to find that their persuasions were of avail at
last, and with the help of go-betweens they arranged that he should
marry a certain lady of noble family whom they deemed worthy and
suitable in all respects.
So the soothsayers were consulted and a lucky day chosen for the
marriage, and the new wife was then installed in Prince Minetaka's home
amidst the congratulations of both families. The little Princess alone
was sorrowful in her inmost heart at seeing some one take her mother's
place; but it would be unfilial to her father to show that for one
instant she did not approve of his second marriage, so she hid her
unhappiness and smiled.
On seeing the little Princess for the first time, the stepmother was
shocked at the deformity of the bowl, and said to herself that never had
she even dreamed that there could be any one in the world doomed to be
such an ugly cripple. She not only despised but hated her stepchild from
the moment that she saw her. This new wife was indeed a very different
woman from her predecessor, whose heart was so good and kind towards all
who came near her that the idea of disliking, much less hating any one
was impossible to her.
A year passed by and the stepmother gave birth to a child. Jealousy for
her own infant daughter now made her hate her stepchild more and more.
It was her great desire to see her own daughter first in Prince
Minetaka's affection, and in order to attain her utterly selfish end she
knew she must oust her stepchild from the house. To begin with, she
determined to estrange the father from the little Princess by telling
him unfavourable stories of her behaviour and her character. It is
needless to say that she invented these stories.
The Bowl-Wearing Princess soon understood that her stepmother hated her.
Her grief and anxiety seemed to her more than she could bear. There was
no one in the house in whom she could confide, and she knew that to
complain of her stepmother to any one, even to her father, would be
undutiful. What was she to do in her trouble? To whom could she go but
to her own mother? So as often as she could she went to her grave. Here
she would kneel and pour out the woe that filled her heart.
"O mother, why must I live on in the world with this ugly bowl on my
head? My stepmother truly has a reason for hating such a child about the
house. Now that she has a daughter of her own, all the more must she
want to get rid of me! And my father, who used to love me so much, he
too will surely soon give all his love to his new daughter and forget
me! Alas! Alas! the only place that is left to me to come to without
fear of dislike is the side of my own dead mother. O mother, sitting
upon the lotus leaves in Paradise, receive me now upon the same leaf.
Oh! that I might thus escape the sorrow of this world and enter upon the
way of Buddha!"
But the Boundary of Life and Death separated the mother and child, and
though she prayed earnestly and with tears, lifting her whole heart and
soul up in her despair, no answer came to her eagerly listening ear. As
she knelt in the little graveyard only the sound of the wind sighing in
the pine trees answered her. But the thought that she had told her
mother everything comforted her as she returned home.
The stepmother was told of her stepdaughter's frequent visits to the
graveyard, and instead of being touched with pity for the motherless
girl, she made use of the occasion still further to slander the child to
her husband.
"I am told that the Bowl-Wearer, your daughter, goes to her mother's
grave and curses me and my child because of her jealousy! What do you
think of that? Hasn't she a wicked heart?"
Day by day she watched the little girl wend her way from the house to
the graveyard and day by day she repeated in her husband's ear her
pretended fears. In her heart she knew quite well that it was only love
and unhappiness that sent her unfortunate stepchild to the grave of her
mother. At last she said that she was afraid of the evil that might
befall her and her child through the Bowl-Wearer's malice; she had
decided that they could no longer live together in the same house.
The father, who had hitherto never listened much to his wife's tales,
was at last persuaded by her importunity into believing them true. So in
an evil hour he summoned his daughter and said: "What is this I hear,
wicked daughter? Your deformity has long since been a source of
irritation to me, but as long as you behaved well, I put up with it. Now
I am told that you go every day to the grave of your mother to curse my
wife and her innocent little child. It is impossible for me to keep
under my roof any one who is so crippled not only in body but in mind as
you are. Go wherever you will from to-day, but longer in this house you
shall not stay!"
While the father was speaking these terrible words the stepmother sat
behind him, smiling in derision at the poor little Princess and in
triumph at the success of her wicked stratagem.
"Woe to the Bowl-Wearing Princess!"
The servants, at the command of her father, took off her silken robes
and put on her a miserable common cotton gown, such as beggars wear, and
drove her out into the road.
The Princess was altogether bewildered at the suddenness of her
misfortune.
She felt like a wanderer in an unknown land, lost in the darkness of
night. So distracted was she at first that she could only stand still in
the middle of the street, not knowing which way to turn. But people,
passing by, stared at her so that she soon realized that she must not
stand like that all day, so she began to move whither her feet led her.
In this way she came to the bank of a large river. As she stood and
looked at the flowing water, she could not help thinking that it would
be far better for her to become the dust of the river-bed than endure
the hardships of her present lot. Would it not be better to die and so
join her mother than wander about like a beggar from place to place
begging her rice? With this thought she made up her mind to drown
herself. But the roar of the river was so great as it dashed over the
boulders of its rocky bed that the maiden hesitated at first. Then,
summoning up all her courage with a desperate effort, she jumped in.
Strange to say, however, the bowl, which had hitherto been such a curse
to her, was now a blessing. It lifted her head clear above the water and
would not let her sink. As she floated down the stream a fishing-boat
came by. The fisherman, seeing a big bowl rising out of the water,
lifted it up. His surprise was great when underneath the bowl he found a
human being. Thinking it to be some strange monster, he threw it upon
the bank.
The poor girl was at first stunned by her fall. When she came to
herself, she said that it was a pity she could not die as she had
wished. She got up from the ground and, in a miserable plight, for her
clothes were dripping with water, began to walk on, and after some time
she found herself in the streets of a town.
Here the people, as soon as they saw her, began to point the finger of
scorn at her, and to jeer and laugh at the strange-looking bowl on her
head.
"Oh! oh! do you see this queer creature with the bowl coming down from
the mountains? Look! Look!" Then as some of them came nearer they said:
"It is strange that a monster should have such beautiful hands and feet.
What a pity this creature was not born a woman!"
Just then the lord of the district passed by on his way home from the
hunt. Seeing the gathering of people, he stopped and inquired what was
the matter. His retainers pointed out the Bowl-Wearer to him. From the
grace of her slender form, and the modesty of her bearing, Lord Yamakage
judged her to be a young woman, though he could not of course see her
face, which was completely hidden by the bowl. He ordered the
Bowl-Wearer to be brought to him. Two or three of his retainers went to
execute his orders, and came back bringing the poor unhappy Princess
with them.
"Tell me the truth," said Lord Yamakage to the girl; "who or what are
you?"
"I am the daughter of one Minetaka by name, and my home is near Katano.
My mother, when dying, placed this bowl on my head, and since her death
it has become so firmly fixed there that no one can take it off, and I
am obliged to wear it always, as you see me now. Because of the
unsightliness of my appearance I have been driven away from my home. No
one takes pity on me, and I am forced to wander from place to place
without knowing where to lay my head at night."
"Well, well!" said the kind man. "Your story is truly a pitiful one. I
will take the bowl off for you!"
When he had said these words, Lord Yamakage ordered his retainers to
pull off the bowl from the girl's head. The men, one and all, tried to
free the Princess from the obnoxious bowl, but it stuck so obstinately
to her head that all their efforts were useless. It even uttered loud
cries and groans of pain as they tugged at it. Every one was dumbfounded
at the inexplicable mystery, and at last they all began to laugh.
When Lord Yamakage saw that there was nothing to be done to help her, he
spoke to the Bowl-Wearer again. "Where are you going to spend to-night?"
"I am quite homeless," answered the Bowl-Wearer, in a heartbroken way,
"and I do not know where I shall lay my head to-night. There is no one
in the wide world to take pity on me, and every one who sees me either
jeers or runs away because of the bowl on my head."
Lord Yamakage felt his heart fill with pity and said: "It may bring luck
to have such a strange creature in my house!" Then he turned to the girl
and said: "How would you like to come home with me for the present,
Bowl-Wearer?"
And with these words he gave her in charge of his attendants, who took
her with them to their lord's house.
It was an easy matter to take her to the house, but not so easy to find
her a place there. His wife objected to her becoming a waiting-maid,
saying that no one could bear the sight of so strange a creature about.
So the servants at last took her to the bath-room, and told her that she
must fetch and carry the water and look after the fire for heating the
bath. This was to be her work!
As the little Princess had never done such rough work in the whole of
her life, she suffered much in obeying these cruel orders; but she
resigned herself to her fate and tried with all humility and patience to
perform her hard task faultlessly.
But her lot was far from being a happy one, even though she had found
the safe shelter of Lord Yamakage's home. The young and uncouth
tradesmen, coming on errands to the house, made fun of her, some even
trying to peep under the bowl to get a glimpse of the beautiful face
beneath. While she was thus persecuted in the daytime, in the evening
the servants gave her no rest with their peremptory orders. "Hot water
here!" "Cold water there!" "Get the bath ready!" and so on.
The poor girl bore all this rude usage patiently; but as she went about
her work she could not help remembering the old times of her happy
childhood, spent under the loving care of her own dear mother, of the
honoured place she had held in her father's household till within the
last few days; and as she carried the hot water or stoked the bath-fire
she pretended that those fast-falling tears of sadness were caused by
the fumes of charcoal and the steam which rose from the hot water. When
she crept weeping to bed at night it seemed to her as if the past day
must be an evil dream.
Lord Yamakage had four sons. The three elder ones were married to
daughters of three of the leading men of the province. The youngest son,
Saisho, was still unmarried. He had been away for some time in the gay
smart capital of Kyoto. But now he returned to his home.
Now every time he went to take his bath or called for hot water, he saw
the Bowl-Wearing maiden, and, as he had a kind and compassionate heart,
he could not but be touched by her unhappy appearance, and her modest
and gentle behaviour and her quickness and diligence at her work.
Whenever he had an opportunity he spoke to the Bowl-Wearer, and to his
surprise he found that she was no servant, that she spoke in the refined
language of his class, and though so young she was well read in the
literature and poetry of her country, and could answer a literary
allusion wittily and to the point. When at last she told him something
of her sad story, he knew, though she did not tell him, that she
belonged to some family of high rank. From this time on he often spoke
to the girl, and he found that the stolen conversations with her grew to
be the chief pleasure of the day.
One day he managed to take a sly peep under the bowl. The face, even
though overshadowed by the huge cover, was of such rare beauty that he
fell madly in love with the Princess, and made up his mind that none
other than the Bowl-Wearer should be his wife.
His mother soon heard of Saisho's friendship for her husband's protege,
and when she learned that he had promised to marry her she forbade him
to think of such a thing. She at first thought that her son could not be
in earnest, but when she sent for Saisho and asked him seriously if what
she had been told was true, he answered: "I really and truly intend to
make the Bowl-Wearer my wife!"
His mother was not a little angry at his determined front. How could
Saisho fall in love with a girl with a bowl on her head? Who ever heard
of such ridiculous nonsense?
Then she sent for her son's nurse, the woman who had nursed him from the
day he was born, and together they tried to deter him from his purpose.
Saisho was obliged to listen to all they had to say, but did not answer
them. He could not say "Yes" to their demand that he should give up all
idea of marrying the Bowl-Wearer, and he knew that if he firmly said
"No" he would raise up such a storm of opposition that no one could tell
how it would end. He knew that the life of the Bowl-Wearer was a truly
pitiable one, and his determination to marry her and help her out of all
her difficulties remained unchanged. His mother soon saw that her son
would by no means listen to her persuasions, and her anger was great
towards the Bowl-Wearer. She almost made up her mind to drive her from
the house before her husband could know what happened.
Saisho, on hearing this, told her that if the girl was driven away he
would go with her. The mother's distraction can be imagined, for she was
thwarted in every way. She at last said that the Bowl-Wearer was a
wicked witch who had thrown her spells over Saisho and would not leave
him till she had compassed his death.
She determined if possible to separate them by fair means or foul. For
a long time she pondered over the matter, and at last hit upon a
stratagem which she trusted would rid the house of the presence of the
obnoxious girl. Her plan she called "The Comparison of the Brides." She
would hold in the house a family council of all the relations, and
assemble the wives of her three elder sons, and before the whole
gathering compare them with the Bowl-Wearer whom Saisho had elected to
marry. If the Bowl-Wearer had any self-respect she would be too
conscious of her deformity and her poverty, and too ashamed to make an
appearance,--would leave the house to escape from the ordeal. What an
excellent plan! Why had she never thought of this before?
So the mother sent messengers post-haste to all the family and
relations, requesting their presence at a "Bride Comparing Ceremony" and
a feast which would close the ceremony.
When Saisho heard of this he was greatly troubled, for he knew what it
meant. His mother meant to drive the girl he loved from the house by
comparing her with his brothers' rich and pretty wives. What was to be
done? How could he help the poor Bowl-Wearer?
The little Princess saw how unhappy he was, and blamed herself, she was
so sorry for him.
"It is all because of me that this trouble has come to you. Instead of
happiness I have only brought you worry. Woe is me! It is better that I
go away at once," said the girl.
Saisho told her at once that he would never let her go alone; that if
she went he would go with her.
At last the day fixed for the ceremony of the "Comparison of the Brides"
came round. Saisho and the unhappy little Bowl-Wearer rose before the
dawn, and taking each other by the hand left the house together.
Notwithstanding his love for the Bowl-Wearer and his resolve to marry
her at whatever cost, Saisho was very sad at the thought of leaving his
parents in this way. He told himself that they would never forgive his
obstinacy and probably would refuse to see him again, so this parting
was probably forever. He felt at each step as if his heart was torn
backwards. With slow steps he and the Bowl-Wearer, hand in hand, wended
their way down the garden. No sooner, however, did they put their feet
outside the gate than the bowl on the girl's head burst with a loud
noise and fell in a thousand pieces upon the ground.
What untold joy for both of them! Saisho, too astonished to speak,
looked for the first time full on the girl's face. The beauty of the
damsel was so dazzling that he could compare it only to the glory of the
full moon as it rides triumphantly above the clouds on the fifteenth
night of September. Her figure, too, now that the dwarfing bowl had
gone, was more graceful than anything he had ever seen. The young
lovers, too happy for words at this unexpected deliverance, could do
nothing but gaze at each other.
The mother's purpose in covering her daughter's head with the hideous
bowl was at last made clear. Fearing that her daughter's beauty would
prove to be a peril to her, with no mother to watch over her, she had
hidden it thus, and the intensity of her wish had assumed supernatural
power, so that all attempts to remove it were useless till the moment
came when it was no longer needed; then it broke off of its own accord.
At last the lovers stooped to pick up the pieces of the bowl, when to
their amazement they found the ground strewn with treasures and all that
a bride could possibly need for her portion. There were many gold
_kanzashi_ (ornamental pins for the hair), silver wine-cups, many
precious stones and gold coins, and a wedding-garment of twelve folded
_kimono_, and a _hakama_ of brilliant scarlet brocade.
"Oh, surely," said the Princess, "these treasures must be what my mother
prepared for my marriage portion. Indeed a mother's tender love is above
everything!"
She wept with mingled feelings of joy and pain,--pain of the remembrance
of her mother and joy at her present unlooked-for deliverance and the
certainty of future happiness.
Saisho told her that there was now no need for her to leave the house.
She was not only a richly dowered bride, but now that her face was no
longer hidden by the hideous bowl, so beautiful that even a king would
be proud to wed her. She need no longer fear to be present at the coming
ceremony and feast. So they both turned back, and hastened to prepare
for the trial which awaited the Bowl-Wearer, but Bowl-Wearer now no
longer.
As soon as day broke, the house was full of movement, servants hurrying
to and fro to usher in and wait upon the relations, who now began to
arrive. The murmur of their chattering was like the sound of breaking
waves on a distant shore, and the object of all this talk was nothing
else than the poor little Princess. The servants told every one that she
was in her room getting ready for the approaching feast, and they all
thought it strange that she had not fled away for shame. Little did they
dream of all that had happened to her!
At last the hour of the "Bride Comparing Ceremony" arrived. The family
and the relations all took their places at the upper end of the big
guest-hall of thirty mats.
First entered the bride of the eldest son. She was only twenty-two years
of age, and as it was the season of autumn, she wore a brightly coloured
kimono and walked into the room in a stately fashion, with her scarlet
hakama trailing over the cream mats behind her. Her costume was indeed
beautiful to behold! To her parents-in-law she brought gifts of ten
rolls of rich silk and two suits of the ceremonial gown called _kosode_
(each _kosode_ consisting of twelve long _kimono_ folded one over the
other), all of which she placed on a fine lacquer tray to present them.
Next came the bride of the second son. She was twenty years of age, and
was of the aristocratic type of beauty, thin and slender, with a long
pale oval face. She wore a heavy silk robe, and over this a flowing gown
of gold brocade. Her _hakama_ was embroidered profusely with crimson
plum-blossoms. She came into the room quietly, with a gentle bearing,
and offered as her gifts of presentation thirty suits of silk robes to
her husband's parents.
Then came the bride of the third son. She was only eighteen years of
age. Quite different from the first two proud beauties, she was very
pretty and dainty, and though small had more sweetness and charm in her
manner than her sisters. Her dress was of rich silk embroidered with
cherry-blossoms. She presented thirty pieces of rare and handsome crape
to her parents-in-law.
The three sat side by side in their conscious pride and prosperity,
their beauty enhanced by the sheen and splendour of their silken gowns.
As the father and mother, uncles and aunts and relations, all gazed
upon them, no one could say who deserved the palm of superiority, for
they were all lovely.
At the lower end of the room, far away from every one else, was placed a
torn mat. It was the seat destined for the Bowl-Wearer.
"We have seen the three elder brides of the house, and they are all so
handsome and so beautifully robed that we are sure there are no women to
compare with them in the whole province," said the relations. "Now it is
the turn of the Bowl-Wearer, who aspires to marry the youngest son of
the house. When she comes in with that ridiculous bowl on her head, let
us greet her with a burst of laughter!"
The roomful of people eagerly waited for the Bowl-Wearer to come, even
as the birds sitting on the eaves of a house long for the morning. The
three brides were also curious to see the cripple girl of whom they had
heard so much. How dared such a creature aspire to become their sister?
they haughtily asked each other.
But the mother felt differently. She in no wise wished to see the girl
appear, for she had arranged this day's ceremony, hoping that the
Bowl-Wearer, knowing herself to be a deformed beggar-maid, would be too
ashamed to appear before such a grand company and would flee away rather
than face the trial. On asking the servants, however, she was told that
she was still in the house, and she wondered what the girl could be
doing, and almost regretted what she had done.
Lord Yamakage and his wife at last grew impatient and sent word to the
Bowl-Wearer that she was to hasten, as every one was waiting for her.
The servants went to the back of the house where the Bowl-Wearer had her
little room of three mats, and gave her the message.
"I am coming now," she answered from within the paper screens.
The Princess now came out and entered the room of the "Bride Comparing
Ceremony," where every one was waiting for her. She was only sixteen
years of age, but so beautiful that she reminded them of the weeping
cherry-blossoms in the dew of a spring morning. Her hair was as black as
the sheen on a raven's wing, and her face was lovelier far than that of
any human being they had ever seen. Her under-robes were of rich white
silk, and her upper kimono was purple, embroidered with white and pink
plum-blossoms. As the stars pale before the fuller glory of the moon, so
the three elder brides shrank into insignificance beside the dazzling
beauty of this maiden.
To all it seemed as if one of the _Amatsu Otome_ (heavenly virgins) who
wait upon the Goddess of Mercy had glided into the room. They had
expected to see a poverty-stricken girl with a large bowl stuck upside
down on the top of her head, and they were lost in astonishment when
they beheld the Princess in all the radiance of her loveliness and the
splendour of her rich clothes.
The Princess was about to sit down in the seat left for her, but Lord
Yamakage made a place for her beside his wife, saying that he could not
allow her to sit in such a lowly spot. She now presented to her
father-in-law a silver wine-cup on a gold pedestal, with one hundred
_rye_ (old _yen_ in gold), and thirty rolls of silk which she brought in
on a beautiful tray. To his wife she presented the rarest and most
delectable fruit of ancient Japan, Konan oranges and Kempo pears, and
one hundred pieces of coloured cloth which she put upon a gold stand.
In her surpassing beauty, in the grace of her carriage, in the richness
of her costume, in the sumptuousness of the gifts to her parents, she
left the other brides far and away behind. Speechless with wonder and
admiration, every one present could not but gaze at her. Before the
Bowl-Wearer had appeared, the three elder brides had seemed beautiful
enough, but now the difference was as marked as when a sparkling jewel
is placed side by side with a crystal; and as the crystal suffers from
the comparison, so did they.
Saisho's elder brothers were looking between the cracks of the sliding
screens, and they were filled with envy at Saisho and his good fortune
in becoming the husband of such a beautiful princess, for such they now
felt she must be. Not even her rivals could deny that she was
bewilderingly fair to look upon; but they whispered among themselves
that unless she were skilled in all womanly accomplishments, for all her
beauty she would be no better than a common man's daughter. She must
play on the _koto_ at once. No one could perform on that instrument
without years of instruction. If they waited till the next day, who
knows, she was so clever that she might get Saisho to teach her. So the
jealous brides proposed aloud that they should all play a quartette; the
eldest would play the _biwa_ (lute), the second the _sho_ (flute), the
third the _tsuzumi_ (a kind of a small drum beaten with the hand), and
they asked the Bowl-Wearer to join them and play the _koto_ (harp).
The Princess, who was very modest, at first refused; but on second
thoughts, she said to herself: "They ask me to do this because they wish
to try me, thinking me to be ignorant of such accomplishments. Well,
then, I will play, for my mother taught me." She pulled the _koto_ near
her, and slipping the ivory tips on her fingers began to stroke chords.
The astonishment of every one was great, for she played with great
skill.
Saisho, who had hidden himself in the room behind a lacquer cabinet, and
was watching with the utmost eagerness all that went on, could hardly
keep in his hiding-place, he was so delighted.
The three brides, who were quite put out of countenance, for their
performance could in no wise be compared to that of the little Princess,
now proposed that she should write a poem.
"Write a poem, a _tanka_ [a poem of thirty-one syllables], which shall
describe the character of each season, such as the blooming of the peach
and the cherry-blossom in the spring, the orange and wistaria in summer,
and the beauty of the chrysanthemum in autumn."
"Oh," said the Bowl-Wearer, "this is indeed a task too difficult for me.
Is there nothing else you will give me to do instead of this? I can take
care of the bath-room, and pull up water from the well, and heat the
bath. Since this is my daily occupation, how is it possible that I
should even know how to write a poem, much less compose one?" She
blushed as she spoke.
But her rivals insisted, and so at last she took up a poem card and a
brush and wrote:--
Haru wa hana,
Natsu wa tachibana,
Aki wa kiku,
Izure to wakete,
Tsuyu ya okuran.
The cherry-blossom of spring,
The orange-flower of summer,
The autumn chrysanthemum,
Perplexed between them all,
Alike on each the dew may fall.
She showed not the least hesitation in writing these lines, and her
handwriting was so beautiful that even the famous Tofu[1] and her brush
could not have surpassed it. The three brides retired from the room,
grumbling and speaking evil of the Bowl-Wearer.
"She must be a witch," they said. "Probably the spirit of the ancient
Tamamono Maye!"
Lord Yamakage, now quite pleased with her, handed her a cup of _saké_.
He gave his full consent to her marrying his son Saisho, and bestowed
upon them as a settlement twenty-three hundred _cho_ of land, together
with twenty-four servants to wait upon them, and for their bridal
chamber he allotted them the Hall of Bamboos.
So Saisho and the Bowl-Wearer were at last married, and all their
troubles ended. Never was there such a merry wedding, such a lovely
bride, or such a happy bridegroom. The days flew into weeks, the weeks
flew into months, for the flight of time is unnoticed when one is happy.
At last one day Saisho said to his wife: "I cannot believe you to be the
daughter of a common man. Will you not tell me who your father is? I
should like to know. Whatever wrong you have suffered, why hide your
parentage any longer?"
The Princess knew that if she told her husband the truth, the name of
her cruel stepmother would have to be mentioned, and it would be most
unfilial to speak of the woman's cruelty, for she was her father's wife,
so she decided not to tell Saisho to what family she belonged. She made
some excuse, saying that he should know all in good time, and begged him
to wait a little longer.
[Illustration: SAISHO AND THE BOWL-WEARER WERE AT LAST MARRIED]
When they had been happily married for a year, she gave birth to a son.
The bliss of the faithful young couple now seemed complete. Yet with her
ever-growing happiness her thoughts turned more and more to her father.
What had happened to him in these past years? How she longed to show him
her little son! She said to herself that if this were granted she would
be the happiest woman in the whole world.
Now let us turn back and see what happened to Lord Minetaka and his
wicked wife. As time went on, her vicious disposition only became worse.
At last it became so unbearable that all the servants took their leave.
There was now no one left to care for her child or the house, and the
fortunes of the family gradually declined. Lord Minetaka became poorer
and poorer. Where once in the days of the first wife there had been
sweet peace and harmony, discord now reigned in the house.
Lord Minetaka grew weary of his life. He decided to leave his home and
set out on a pilgrimage. He started at last to wander on foot from
province to province and from temple to temple, learning from the
priests all he could of Buddhist lore. He had plenty of time for
reflection; and no longer harassed by a scolding wife, he began to
ponder over his past life. No words can tell how much he regretted
having listened to her slanderous stories about his little daughter; and
when he thought of how he had allowed her to be driven from her home,
like an outcast or a beggar, his nights were sleepless.
He asked himself every day what could have happened to her all this
time. He would search for her through the length and the breadth of the
land, and if she were still alive, he told himself that he would surely
meet with her again. In every temple he came to he prayed that he might
find her, wheresoever she might be. On and on he wandered over the
country, stopping for the night at the different villages he came to on
his way.
At last he reached the famous Kwannon of the Hatsuse Temple, of the
Yamato Province. Kwannon, the Goddess of Mercy, grants to mortals
whatever they need the most, the greatest desire of their hearts. Here
Minetaka ardently prayed for his lost daughter, prayed that she might be
preserved from all ill, and that Kwannon would mercifully grant them a
speedy meeting.
Saisho and his wife were devoted to this very temple, and often used to
visit it to offer thanksgiving for their mutual happiness, and to pray
for their children. Now this day, as was their wont, they had come with
their three little sons and some of their retainers. The little boys
were beautifully dressed in silk and crape, and the whole party had the
appearance of a nobleman and his retinue.
The retainers went up the temple steps first to clear the way, and found
a pilgrim before the temple shrine lost in earnest prayer.
"Oh, pilgrim!" they cried, "out of the way! Our lord comes to worship,
make way instantly!"
The man, hearing himself spoken to in this way, got up and looked at the
approaching party, moving aside at the same time to let them pass. He
was travel-stained and worn out with fatigue, and it was easy to see
that he was broken down by some sorrow. As the little boys passed him,
he looked at them eagerly, and as he did so the tears fell from his
eyes. One of the retainers, who thought his behaviour strange, asked the
pilgrim why he wept.
"Those children," answered Lord Minetaka, for it was he, "remind me so
much of my daughter, for whom I am searching, that when I looked at
their faces the tears fell in spite of myself;" and he told the man all
that had happened, glad for once to find a sympathetic listener on his
lonely wanderings.
When the Princess heard the story, she told the retainers to bring the
pilgrim to her. As soon as they led him to her a glance was enough for
her to recognize that, aged and emaciated as he was, the pilgrim was
none other than her father.
"I am the Bowl-Wearer!" she exclaimed quickly, catching hold of her
father's sleeve and bursting into tears, overcome with joy and filial
affection at this unexpected meeting.
Saisho congratulated his wife and her father on their happy reunion, and
after many bows and salutations on both sides, he said: "I felt sure
that my wife was of noble birth, though she always remained silent when
I questioned her as to her parentage. Now I understand it all. So, after
all, she is the daughter of Lord Minetaka of Katano."
He then insisted that his father-in-law should give up his wanderings
and make his home with them for the rest of his days.
So Lord Minetaka at last found his good daughter married to one of his
own rank, and so happy that even in dreams he could have wished for
nothing better for her. What a joyous home-coming it was that day for
the Bowl-Wearer, as she led her father back with her and presented her
three little sons to him, and showed him her beautiful home, and told
him how good and faithful her husband had been to her while she was only
the unhappy and despised Bowl-Wearer!
They all felt that their cup of happiness was full, and lived together
more harmoniously than ever, and in their mutual joy all past sorrow was
forgotten.
Such is the story of the Bowl-Wearing Princess, which is told from
grandmother to mother and from mother to daughter in all households in
Japan.
[1] Tofu. A lady famous for her beautiful handwriting.