father, and restore the fortunes of his family. Being exceedingly brave,
and an expert swordsman, he became chief of a band of robbers and
plundered many wealthy merchants, and in a short time he was rich in men,
arms and booty. He was accustomed to disguise himself, and go in person
into the houses and presence of men of wealth, and thus learn all about
their gates and guards, where they slept, and in what rooms their
treasures were stored, so that success was easy.
Hearing of an old man who lived in Shinano, he started to rob him, and
for this purpose put on the disguise of a pilgrim. Shinano is a very
high table-land, full of mountains, and the snow lies deep in winter. A
great snow storm coming on, Jiraiya took refuge in a humble house by the
way. Entering, he found a very beautiful woman, who treated him with
great kindness. This, however, did not change the robber's nature. At
midnight, when all was still, he unsheathed his sword, and going
noiselessly to her room, he found the lady absorbed in reading.
Lifting his sword, he was about to strike at her neck, when, in a flash,
her body changed into that of a very old man, who seized the heavy steel
blade and broke it in pieces as though it were a stick. Then he tossed
the bits of steel away, and thus spoke to Jiraiya, who stood amazed but
fearless:
"I am a man named Senso Dojin, and I have lived in these mountains many
hundred years, though my true body is that of a huge frog. I can easily
put you to death but I have another purpose. So I shall pardon you and
teach you magic instead."
Then the youth bowed his head to the floor, poured out his thanks to the
old man and begged to be received as his pupil.
Remaining with the old man of the mountain for several weeks, Jiraiya
learned all the arts of the mountain spirits; how to cause a storm of
wind and rain, to make a deluge, and to control the elements at will.
He also learned how to govern the frogs, and at his bidding they assumed
gigantic size, so that on their backs he could stand up and cross rivers
and carry enormous loads.
When the old man had finished instructing him he said "Henceforth cease
from robbing, or in any way injuring the poor. Take from the wicked rich,
and those who acquire money dishonestly, but help the needy and the
suffering." Thus speaking, the old man turned into a huge frog and hopped
away.
What this old mountain spirit bade him do, was just what Jiraiya wished
to accomplish. He set out on his journey with a light heart. "I can now
make the storm and the waters obey me, and all the frogs are at my
command; but alas! the magic of the frog cannot control that of the
serpent. I shall beware of his poison."
From that time forth the oppressed poor people rejoiced many a time as
the avaricious merchants and extortionate money lenders lost their
treasures. For when a poor farmer, whose crops failed, could not pay his
rent or loan on the date promised, these hard-hearted money lenders would
turn him out of his house, seize his beds and mats and rice-tub, and even
the shrine and images on the god-shelf, to sell them at auction for a
trifle, to their minions, who resold them at a high price for the
money-lender, who thus got a double benefit. Whenever a miser was robbed,
the people said, "The young thunder has struck," and then they were glad,
knowing that it was Jiraiya, (Young Thunder.) In this manner his name
soon grew to be the poor people's watchword in those troublous times.
Yet Jiraiya was always ready to help the innocent and honest, even if
they were rich. One day a merchant named Fukutaro was sentenced to death,
though he was really not guilty. Jiraiya hearing of it, went to the
magistrate and said that he himself was the very man who committed the
robbery. So the man's life was saved, and Jiraiya was hanged on a large
oak tree. But during the night, his dead body changed into a bull-frog
which hopped away out of sight, and off into the mountains of Shinano.
At this time, there was living in this province, a young and beautiful
maiden named Tsunade. Her character was very lovely. She was always
obedient to her parents and kind to her friends. Her daily task was to go
to the mountains and cut brushwood for fuel. One day while thus busy
singing at the task, she met a very old man, with a long white beard
sweeping his breast, who said to her:
"Do not fear me. I have lived in this mountain many hundred years, but my
real body is that of a snail. I will teach you the powers of magic, so
that you can walk on the sea, or cross a river however swift and deep,
as though it were dry land."
Gladly the maiden took daily lessons of the old man, and soon was able to
walk on the waters as on the mountain paths. One day the old man said, "I
shall now leave you and resume my former shape. Use your power to destroy
wicked robbers. Help those who defend the poor. I advise you to marry the
celebrated man Jiraiya, and thus you will unite your powers."
Thus saying, the old man shrivelled up into a snail and crawled away.
"I am glad," said the maiden to herself, "for the magic of the snail can
overcome that of the serpent. When Jiraiya, who has the magic of the
frog, shall marry me, we can then destroy the son of the serpent, the
robber named Dragon-coil (Orochimaru)."
By good fortune, Jiraiya met the maiden Tsunade, and being charmed with
her beauty, and knowing her power of magic, sent a messenger with
presents to her parents, asking them to give him their daughter to wife.
The parents agreed, and so the young and loving couple were married.
Hitherto when Jiraiya wished to cross a river he changed himself into a
frog and swam across; or, he summoned a bull-frog before him, which
increased in size until as large as an elephant. Then standing erect on
his warty back, even though the wind blew his garments wildly, Jiraiya
reached the opposite shore in safety. But now, with his wife's powers,
the two, without any delay, walked over as though the surface was a hard
floor.
Soon after their marriage, war broke out in Japan between the two famous
clans of Tsukikage and Inukage. To help them fight their battles, and
capture the castles of their enemies, the Tsukikage family besought the
aid of Jiraiya, who agreed to serve them and carried their banner in his
back. Their enemies, the Inukage, then secured the services of
Dragon-coil.
This Orochimaru, or Dragon-coil, was a very wicked robber whose father
was a man, and whose mother was a serpent that lived in the bottom of
Lake Takura. He was perfectly skilled in the magic of the serpent, and by
spurting venom on his enemies, could destroy the strongest warriors.
Collecting thousands of followers, he made great ravages in all parts of
Japan, robbing and murdering good and bad, rich and poor alike. Loving
war and destruction he joined his forces with the Inukage family.
Now that the magic of the frog and snail was joined to the one army, and
the magic of the serpent aided the other, the conflicts were bloody and
terrible, and many men were slain on both sides.
On one occasion, after a hard fought battle, Jiraiya fled and took refuge
in a monastery, with a few trusty vassals, to rest a short time. In this
retreat a lovely princess named Tagoto was dwelling. She had fled from
Orochimaru, who wished her for his bride. She hated to marry the
offspring of a serpent, and hoped to escape him. She lived in fear of him
continually. Orochimaru hearing at one time that both Jiraiya and the
princess were at this place, changed himself into a serpent, and
distilling a large mouthful of poisonous venom, crawled up to the ceiling
in the room where Jiraiya and his wife were sleeping, and reaching a spot
directly over them, poured the poisonous venom on the heads of his
rivals. The fumes of the prison so stupefied Jiraiya's followers, and
even the monks, that Orochimaru, instantly changing himself to a man,
profited by the opportunity to seize the princess Tagoto, and make off
with her.
Gradually the faithful retainers awoke from their stupor to find their
master and his beloved wife delirious, and near the point of death, and
the princess gone.
"What can we do to restore our dear master to life?" This was the
question each one asked of the others, as with sorrowful faces and
weeping eyes they gazed at the pallid forms of their unconscious master
and his consort. They called in the venerable abbot of the monastery to
see if he could suggest what could be done.
"Alas!" said the aged priest, "there is no medicine in Japan to cure your
lord's disease, but in India there is an elixir which is a sure
antidote. If we could get that, the master would recover."
"Alas! alas!" and a chorus of groans showed that all hope had fled, for
the mountain in India, where the elixir was made, lay five thousand miles
from Japan.
Just then a youth named Rikimatsu, one of the pages of Jiraiya, arose to
speak. He was but fourteen years old, and served Jiraiya out of
gratitude, for he had rescued his father from many dangers and saved his
life. He begged permission to say a word to the abbot, who, seeing the
lad's eager face, motioned to him with his fan to speak.
"How long can our lord live," asked the youth.
"He will be dead in thirty hours," answered the abbot, with a sigh.
"I'll go and procure the medicine, and if our master is still living
when I come back, he will get well."
Now Rikimatsu had learned magic and sorcery from the Tengus, or
long-nosed elves of the mountains, and could fly high in the air with
incredible swiftness. Speaking a few words of incantation, he put on the
wings of a Tengu, mounted a white cloud and rode on the east wind to
India, bought the elixir of the mountain spirits, and returned to Japan
in one day and a night.
On the first touch of the elixir on the sick man's face he drew a deep
breath, perspiration glistened on his forehead, and in a few moments more
he sat up.
Jiraiya and his wife both got well, and the war broke out again. In a
great battle Dragon-coil was killed and the princess rescued. For his
prowess and aid Jiraiya was made daimio of Idzu.
Being now weary of war and the hardships of active life, Jiraiya was glad
to settle down to tranquil life in the castle and rear his family in
peace. He spent the remainder of his days in reading the books of the
sages, in composing verses, in admiring the flowers, the moon and the
landscape, and occasionally going out hawking or fishing. There, amid his
children and children's children, he finished his days in peace.
HOW THE JELLY-FISH LOST ITS SHELL.
Parts of the seas of the Japanese Archipelago are speckled with thousands
of round white jelly-fish, that swim a few feet below the surface. One
can see the great steamer go ploughing through them as through a field of
frosted cakes. The huge paddle-wheels make a perfect pudding of thousands
of them, as they are dashed against the paddle-box and whipped into a
froth like white of eggs or churned into a thick cream by the propeller
blades. Sometimes the shoals are of great breadth, and then it veritably
looks as though a crockery shop had been upset in the ocean, and ten
thousand white dinner-plates had broken loose. Around the bays and
harbors the Japanese boys at play drive them with paddles into shoals,
and sometimes they poke sticks through them. This they can do easily,
because the jelly-fish has no jacket of shell or bone like the lobster,
nor any skin like a fish, and so always has to swim naked, exposed to all
kinds of danger. Sometimes great jelly-fishes, two or three feet in
diameter, sail gaily along near the shore, as proud as the
long-handled-umbrella of a daimi[=o], and as brilliantly colored as a
Japanese parasol. Floating all around their bodies, like the streamers of
a temple festival, or a court lady's ribbons, are their long tentacles or
feelers. No peacock stretching his bannered tail could make a finer
sight, or look prouder than these floating sun-fishes, or bladders of
living jelly.
But alas for all things made of water! Let but a wave of unusual force,
or a sudden gust of wind come, and this lump of pride lies collapsed and
stranded on the shore, like a pancake upset into a turnover, in which
batter and crust are hopelessly mixed together. When found fresh, men
often come down to the shore and cutting huge slices of blubber, as
transparent as ice, they eat the solid water with their rice, in lieu of
drink.
A jelly-fish as big as an umbrella, and weighing as much as a big boy,
will, after lying a few hours in the sun leave scarcely a trace on the
spot for their bodies are little more than animated masses of water. At
night, however where a jelly-fish has stranded, the ground seems to crawl
and emit a dull fire of phosphorescence which the Japanese call "dragon's
light."
But the jelly-fish once had a shell, and was not so defenceless, say the
fairy tales. How it lost it is thus told.
* * * * *
In the days of old, the jelly-fish was one of the retainers in waiting
upon the Queen of the World under the Sea, at her palace in Riu Gu. In
those days he had a shell, and as his head was hard, no one dared to
insult him, or stick him with their horns, or pinch him with their claws,
or scratch him with their nails, or brush rudely by him with their fins.
In short, this fish instead of being a lump of jelly, as white and
helpless as a pudding, as we see him now, was a lordly fellow that could
get his back up and keep it high when he wished to. He waited on the
queen and right proud was he of his office. He was on good terms with the
King's dragon, which often allowed him to play with his scaly tail but
never hurt him in the least.
One day the Queen fell sick, and every hour grew worse. The King became
anxious, and her subjects talked about nothing else but her sickness.
There was grief all through the water-world; from the mermaids on their
beds of sponge, and the dragons in the rocky caverns, down to the tiny
gudgeons in the rivers, that were considered no more than mere bait. The
jolly cuttle-fish stopped playing his drums and guitar, folded his six
arms and hid away moping in his hole. His servant the lobster in vain
lighted his candle at night, and tried to induce him to come out of his
lair. The dolphins and porpoises wept tears, but the clams, oysters and
limpets shut up their shells and did not even wiggle. The flounders and
skates lay flat on the ocean's floor, never even lifting up their noses.
The squid wept a great deal of ink, and the jelly-fish nearly melted to
pure water. The tortoise was patient and offered to do anything for the
relief of the Queen.
But nothing could be done. The cuttle-fish who professed to be "a kind of
a" doctor, offered the use of all his cups to suck out the poison, if
that were the trouble.
But it wasn't. It was internal, and nothing but medicine that could be
swallowed would reach the disease.
At last some one suggested that the liver of a monkey would be a specific
for the royal sickness, and it was resolved to try it. The tortoise, who
was the Queen's messenger, because he could live on both land and water,
swim or crawl, was summoned. He was told to go upon earth to a certain
mountain, catch a monkey and bring him alive to the Under-world.
Off started the tortoise on his journey to the earth, and going to a
mountain where the monkeys lived, squatted down at the foot of a tree and
pretended to be asleep though keeping his claws and tail out. There he
waited patiently, well knowing that curiosity and the monkey's love of
tricks would bring one within reach of his talons. Pretty soon, a family
of chattering monkeys came running along among the branches overhead,
when suddenly a young _saru_ (monkey) caught sight of the sleeping
tortoise.
"_Naru hodo_" (Is it possible?) said the long-handed fellow, "here's fun;
let's tickle the old fellow's back and pull his tail."
All agreed, and forthwith a dozen monkeys, joining hand over hand, made a
long ladder of themselves until they just reached the tortoise's back.
(They didn't use their tails, for Japanese monkeys have none, except
stumps two inches long). However, he who was to be the tail end of this
living rope, when all was ready, crawled along and slipped over the whole
line, whispering as he slid:
"'Sh! don't chatter or laugh, you'll wake the old fellow up."
Now the monkey expected to hold on the living pendulum by one long hand,
and swinging down with the other, to pull the tortoise's tail, and see
how near he could come to his snout without being snapped up. For a
monkey well knew that a tortoise could neither jump off its legs nor
climb a tree.
Once! Twice! The monkey pendulum swung back and forth without touching.
Three! Four! The monkey's finger-nails scratched the tortoise's back. Yet
old Hard Shell pretended to be sound asleep.
Five! Six! The monkey caught hold of the tortoise's tail and jerked it
hard. Old Tortoise now moved out its head a little, as if still only half
awake.
Seven! Eight! This time the monkey intended to pull the tortoise's head,
when just as he came within reach, the tortoise snapped him, held him in
his claws, and as the monkey pendulum swung back he lost his hold. In an
instant he was jerked loose, and fell head-foremost to the ground, half
stunned.
Frightened at the loss of their end link, the other monkeys of the chain
wound themselves up like a windlass over the branches, and squatting on
the trees, set up a doleful chattering.
"Now," says the tortoise, "I want you to go with me. If you don't, I'll
eat you up. Get on my back and I'll carry you; but I must hold your paw
in my mouth so you won't run away."
Half frightened to death, the monkey obeyed, and the tortoise trotted off
to the sea, swam to the spot over the Queen's palace, and in a fillip of
the finger was down in the gardens of Riu Gu.
Here, let me say, that according to another version of this story the
monkeys assembled in force when they suspected what the tortoise had come
after, and catching him napping turned him over on his back so that he
could not move or bite. Then they took his under shell off, so that he
had to travel back to Riu Gu and get another one. This last version
however is uncertain and it looks like a piece of invention to
suppose that the monkeys had a sufficient medical knowledge to make them
suspicious of the design of the tortoise on the monkey's liver. I prefer
the regular account.
[Illustration: THE MONKEYS IN GRIEF.]
The Queen hearing of the monkey's arrival thanked the tortoise, and
commanded her cook and baker to feed him well and treat him kindly, for
the queen felt really sorry because he was to lose his liver.
As for the monkey he enjoyed himself very much, and ran around everywhere
amusing the star-fishes, clams, oysters and other pulpy creatures that
could not run, by his rapid climbing of the rocks and coral bushes, and
by rolling over the sponge beds and cutting all manner of antics.
They had never before seen anything like it. Poor fellow! he didn't
suspect what was to come.
All this time however the jelly-fish pitied him in his heart, and could
hardly keep what he knew to himself. Seeing that the monkey, lonely and
homesick was standing by the shore of a pond, the jelly-fish squeezed
himself up near him and said:
"Excuse my addressing you, I feel very sorry for you because you are to
be put to death."
"Why?" said the monkey, "What have I done?"
"Oh, nothing," said the jelly-fish, "only our queen is sick and she wants
your liver for medicine."
Then if ever any one saw a sick looking monkey it was this one. As the
Japanese say "his liver was smashed." He felt dreadfully afraid. He put
his hands over his eyes, and immediately began to plan how to save both
his liver and his life.
After a while the rain began to fall heavily, and the monkey ran in out
of the garden, and standing in the hall of the Queen's palace began to
weep bitterly. Just then the tortoise, passing by, saw his captive.
"What are you crying about?"
"Aita! aita!" cried the monkey, "When I left my home on the earth, I
forgot to bring my liver with me, but hung it upon a tree, and now it is
raining and my liver will decay and I'll die. Aita! aita!" and the poor
monkey's eyes became red as a _tai_ fish, and streamed with tears.
When the tortoise told the Queen's courtiers what the monkey had said,
their faces fell.
"Why, here's a pretty piece of business. The monkey is of no use without
his liver. We must send him after it."
So they dispatched the tortoise to the earth again, the monkey sitting
a-straddle of his back. They came to the mountain again, and the tortoise
being a little lazy, waited at the foot while the monkey scampered off,
saying he would be back in an hour. The two creatures had become so well
acquainted that the old Hard Shell fully trusted the lively little
fellow.
But instead of an hour the tortoise waited till evening. No monkey came.
So finding himself fooled, and knowing all the monkeys would take the
alarm, he waddled back and told the Queen all about it.
"Then," said the Queen after reprimanding her messenger for his silly
confidence, "the monkey must have got wind of our intention to use his
liver, and what is more, some one of my retainers or servants must have
told him."
Then the Queen issued an order commanding all her subjects to appear
before the Dragon-King of the Sea. Whoever did this wicked thing, Kai Riu
O would punish him.
Now it happened that all the fish and sea animals of all sorts, that
swam, crawled, rolled or moved in any way, appeared before Kai Riu O, the
Dragon-King, and his Queen--all except the jelly-fish. Then the Queen
knew the jelly-fish was the guilty one. She ordered the culprit to be
brought into her presence. Then publicly, before all her retainers and
servants, she cried out:
"You leaky-tongued wretch, for your crime of betraying the confidence of
your sovereign, you shall no longer remain among shell-fish. I condemn
you to lose your shell."
Then she stripped off his shell, and left the poor jelly-fish entirely
naked and ashamed.
"Be off, you tell-tale. Hereafter all your children shall be soft and
defenceless."
The poor jelly-fish blushed crimson, squeezed himself out, and swam off
out of sight. Since that time jelly-fishes have had no shells.
LORD CUTTLE-FISH GIVES A CONCERT.
Despite the loss of the monkey's liver, the queen of the World under the
Sea, after careful attention and long rest, got well again, and was able
to be about her duties and govern her kingdom well. The news of her
recovery created the wildest joy all over the Under-world, and from tears
and gloom and silence, the caves echoed with laughter, and the
sponge-beds with music. Every one had on a "white face." Drums, flutes
and banjos, which had been hung up on coral branches, or packed away in
shell boxes, were taken down, or brought out, and right merrily were
they struck or thrummed with the ivory _hashi_ (plectrum). The pretty
maids of the Queen put on their ivory thimble-nails, and the Queen again
listened to the sweet melodies on the _koto_, (flat harp), while down
among the smaller fry of fishy retainers and the scullions of the
kitchen, were heard the constant thump of the _tsutsumi_ (shoulder-drum),
the bang of the taiko (big drum), and the loud cries of the dancers as
they struck all sorts of attitudes with hands, feet and head.
No allusion was openly made either to monkeys, tortoises or jelly-fish.
This would not have been polite. But the jelly-fish, in a distant pool in
the garden, could hear the refrain, "The rivers of China run into the
sea, and in it sinks the rain."
Now in the language of the Under-world people the words for "river," and
"skin," (or "covering,") and "China," and "shell," and "rain," and
"jelly," are the same. So the chorus, which was nothing but a string of
puns, meant, "The skin of the jelly-fish runs to the sea, and in it sinks
the jelly."
But none of these musical performances were worthy of the Queen's notice;
although as evidences of the joy of her subjects, they did very well. A
great many entertainments were gotten up to amuse the finny people, but
the Queen was present at none of them except the one about to be
described. How and why she became a spectator shall also be told.
One night the queen was sitting in the pink drawing-room, arrayed in her
queenly robes, for she was quite recovered and expected to walk out in
the evening. Everything in the room, except a vase of green and golden
colored sponge-plant, and a plume of glass-thread, was of a pink color.
Then there was a pretty rockery made of a pyramid of pumice, full of
embossed rosettes of living sea-anemones of scarlet, orange, grey and
black colors, which were trained to fold themselves up like an umbrella,
or blossom out like chrysanthemums, at certain hours of the day, or when
touched, behaving just like four o'clocks and sensitive plants.