("_The Ditty of O-Kichi and Seiza_")
Now hear the pitiful story of two that died for love.--In Kyoto
was the thread-shop of Yoemon, a merchant known far and near,--a
man of much wealth. His business prospered; his life was
fortunate. One daughter he had, an only child, by name O-Kichi:
at sixteen years she was lovely as a flower. Also he had a clerk
in his house, by name Seiza, just in the prime of youth, aged
twenty-and-two.
_Yanrei!_
Now the young man Seiza was handsome; and O-Kichi fell in love
with him at sight. And the two were so often together that their
secret affection became known; and the matter came to the ears
of the parents of O-Kichi; and the parents, hearing of it, felt
that such a thing could not be suffered to continue.
_Yanrei!_
So at last, the mother, having called O-Kichi into a private
room, thus spoke to her:--"O my daughter, I hear that you have
formed a secret relation with the young man Seiza, of our shop.
Are you willing to end that relation at once, and not to think
any more about that man, O-Kichi?--answer me, O my daughter."
_Yanrei!_
"O my dear mother," answered O-Kichi, "what is this that you ask
me to do? The closeness of the relation between Seiza and me is
the closeness of the relation of the ink to the paper that it
penetrates.[113] Therefore, whatever may happen, O mother of
mine, to separate from Seiza is more than I can bear."
_Yanrei!_
[113] Lit.:--"that affinity as-for, ink-and-paper-soaked-like
affinity."
Then, the father, having called Seiza to the innermost private
room, thus spoke to him:--"I called you here only to tell you
this: You have turned the mind of our daughter away from what is
right; and even to hear of such a matter is not to be borne.
Pack up your things at once, and go!--to-day is the utmost limit
of the time that you remain in this house."
_Yanrei!_
Now Seiza was a native of Osaka. Without saying more than
"Yes--yes," he obeyed and went away, returning to his home.
There he remained four or five days, thinking only of O-Kichi.
And because of his longing for her, he fell sick; and as there
was no cure and no hope for him, he died.
_Yanrei!_
Then one night O-Kichi, in a moment of sleep, saw the face of
Seiza close to her pillow,--so plainly that she could not tell
whether it was real, or only a dream. And rising up, she looked
about; but the form of Seiza had vanished.
_Yanrei!_
Because of this she made up her mind to go at once to the house
of Seiza. And, without being seen by any one, she fled from the
home of her parents.
_Yanrei!_
When she came to the ferry at the next village, she did not take
the boat, but went round by another road; and making all haste
she found her way to the city of Osaka. There she asked for the
house of Seiza; and she learned that it was in a certain street,
the third house from a certain bridge.
_Yanrei!_
Arriving at last before the home of Seiza, she took off her
travelling hat of straw; and seating herself on the threshold
of the entrance, she cried out:--"Pardon me kindly!--is not this
the house of Master Seiza?"
_Yanrei!_
Then--O the pity of it!--she saw the mother of Seiza, weeping
bitterly, and holding in her hand a Buddhist rosary. "O my good
young lady," the mother of Seiza asked, "whence have you come;
and whom do you want to see?"
_Yanrei!_
And O-Kichi said:--"I am the daughter of the thread-merchant
of Kyoto. And I have come all the way here only because of the
relation that has long existed between Master Seiza and myself.
Therefore, I pray you, kindly permit me to see him."
_Yanrei!_
"Alas!" made answer the mother, weeping, "Seiza, whom you have
come so far to see, is dead. To-day is the seventh day from the
day on which he died." ... Hearing these words, O-Kichi herself
could only shed tears.
_Yanrei!_
But after a little while she took her way to the cemetery. And
there she found the sotoba[114] erected above the grave of
Seiza; and leaning upon it, she wept aloud.
_Yanrei!_
[114] A wooden lath, bearing Buddhist texts, planted
above graves. For a full account of the sotoba see
_my Exotics and Retrospectives_: "The Literature
of the Dead."
Then--how fearful a thing is the longing of a person[115]--the
grave of Seiza split asunder; and the form of Seiza rose up
therefrom and spoke.
_Yanrei!_
[115] In the original:--_Hito no omoi wa osoroshi mono
yo!_--("how fearful a thing is the thinking of a
person!"). The word _omoi_, used here in the sense
of "longing," refers to the weird power of Seiza's
dying wish to see his sweetheart. Even after his
burial, this longing has the strength to burst
open the tomb.
--In the old English ballad of "William and
Marjorie" (see Child: vol. ii. p. 151) there is
also a remarkable fancy about the opening and
closing of a grave:--
She followed him high, she followed him low,
Till she came to yon churchyard green;
_And there the deep grave opened up_,
And young William he lay down.
"Ah! is not this O-Kichi that has come? Kind indeed it was to
have come to me from so far away! My O-Kichi, do not weep thus.
Never again--even though you weep--can we be united in this
world. But as you love me truly, I pray you to set some fragrant
flowers before my tomb, and to have a Buddhist service said for
me upon the anniversary of my death."
_Yanrei!_
And with these words the form of Seiza vanished. "O wait, wait
for me!" cried O-Kichi,--"wait one little moment![116] I cannot
let you return alone!--I shall go with you in a little time!"
_Yanrei!_
[116] With this episode compare the close of the English
ballad "Sweet William's Ghost" (Child: vol. ii.,
page 148):--
"O stay, my only true love, stay!"
The constant Margaret cried:
Wan grew her cheeks; she closed her een,
Stretched her soft limbs, and died.
Then quickly she went beyond the temple-gate to a moat some four
or five _cho_[117] distant; and having filled her sleeves with
small stones, into the deep water she cast her forlorn body.
_Yanrei!_
[117] A _cho_ is about one fifteenth of a mile.
And now I shall terminate this brief excursion into unfamiliar
song-fields by the citation of two Buddhist pieces. The first is from
the famous work _Gempei Seisuiki_ ("Account of the Prosperity and
Decline of the Houses of Gen and Hei"), probably composed during the
latter part of the twelfth, or at the beginning of the thirteenth
century. It is written in the measure called _Imayo_,--that is to say,
in short lines alternately of seven and of five syllables (7, 5; 7, 5;
7, 5, _ad libitum_). The other philosophical composition is from a
collection of songs called _Ryutachi-bushi_ ("Ryutachi Airs"), belonging
to the sixteenth century:--
I
(_Measure, Imayo_)
Sama mo kokoro mo
Kawaru kana!
Otsuru namida wa
Taki no mizu:
Myo-ho-renge no
Ike to nari;
Guze no fune ni
Sao sashite;
Shizumu waga mi wo
Nose-tamae!
Both form and mind--
Lo! how these change!
The falling of tears
Is like the water of a cataract.
Let them become the Pool
Of the Lotos of the Good Law!
Poling thereupon
The Boat of Salvation,
Vouchsafe that my sinking
Body may ride!