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."[6] 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.
[6] Whence the Izumo saying about one who too often
announces his coming: "Thy talk is like the talk of
necromancy!"--_Toritsubanashi no yona._
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.
And the thin voice cried to her:
"Ask quickly, quickly, mother! Dark is the way and long; and I may not
linger."
Then tremblingly she questioned:
"Why must I sorrow for my child? What is the justice of the gods?"
And there was answer given:
"O mother, do not mourn me thus! That I died was only that you might
not die. For the year was a year of sickness and of sorrow--and it was
given me to know that you were to die; and I obtained by prayer that I
should take your place.[7]
[7] _Migawari_, "substitute," is the religious term.
"O mother, never weep for me! It is not kindness to mourn for the dead.
Over the River of Tears[8] their silent road is; and when mothers weep,
the flood of that river rises, and the soul cannot pass, but must
wander to and fro.
[8] "Namida-no-Kawa."
"Therefore, I pray you, do not grieve, O mother mine! Only give me a
little water sometimes."