volumes of the Nihongi, or Ancient History of Japan, he would give him
for a present a book of wonderful Chinese stories. Gojiro performed his
task, and his father kept his promise. One day on his return from a
journey to Kioto, he presented his son with sixteen volumes, all neatly
silk-bound, well illustrated with wood-cuts, and printed clearly on thin,
silky mulberry paper, from the best wooden blocks. It will be remembered
that several volumes of Japanese literature make but one of ours, as they
are much lighter and thinner than ours.
Gojiro was so delighted with the wonderful stories of heroes and
warriors, travelers and sailors, that he almost felt himself in China. He
read far into the night, with the lamp inside of his musquito curtain;
and finally fell asleep, still undressed, but with his head full of all
sorts of Chinese wonders.
He dreamed he was far away in China, walking along the banks of the great
Yellow River. Everything was very strange. The people talked an entirely
different language from his own; had on different clothes; and, instead
of the nice shaven head and top-knot of the Japanese, every one wore a
long pigtail of hair, that dangled at his heels. Even the boats were of a
strange form, and on the fishing smacks perched on projecting rails, sat
rows of cormorants, each with a ring around his neck. Every few minutes
one of them would dive under the water, and after a while come struggling
up with a fish in its mouth, so big that the fishermen had to help the
bird into the boat. The game was then flung into a basket, and the
cormorant was treated to a slice of raw fish, by way of encouragement
and to keep the bird from the bad habit of eating the live fish whole.
This the ravenous bird would sometimes try to do, even though the ring
was put around his neck for the express purpose of preventing him from
gulping down a whole fish at once.
It was springtime, and the buds were just bursting into flower. The river
was full of fish, especially of carp, ascending to the great rapids or
cascades. Here the current ran at a prodigious rate of swiftness, and the
waters rippled and boiled and roared with frightful noise. Yet, strange
to say, many of the fish were swimming up the stream as if their lives
depended on it. They leaped and floundered about; but every one seemed to
be tossed back and left exhausted in the river, where they panted and
gasped for breath in the eddies at the side. Some were so bruised
against the rocks that, after a few spasms, they floated white and stiff,
belly up, on the water, dead, and were swept down the stream. Still the
shoal leaped and strained every fin, until their scales flashed in the
sun like a host of armored warriors in battle. Gojiro, enjoying it as if
it were a real conflict of wave and fishes, clapped his hands with
delight.
Then Gojiro inquired, by means of writing, of an old white-bearded sage
standing by and looking on: "What is the name of this part of the river?"
"We call it Lung Men," said the sage.
"Will you please write the characters for it," said Gojiro, producing his
ink-case and brush-pen, with a roll of soft mulberry paper.
The sage wrote the two Chinese characters, meaning "The Gate of the
Dragons," or "Dragons' Gate," and turned away to watch a carp that
seemed almost up into smooth water.
"Oh! I see," said Gojiro to himself. "That's pronounced Riu Mon in
Japanese. I'll go further on and see. There must be some meaning in this
fish-climbing." He went forward a few rods, to where the banks trended
upward into high bluffs, crowned by towering firs, through the top
branches of which fleecy white clouds sailed slowly along, so near the
sky did the tree-tops seem. Down under the cliffs the river ran perfectly
smooth, almost like a mirror, and broadened out to the opposite shore.
Far back, along the current, he could still see the rapids shelving down.
It was crowded at the bottom with leaping fish, whose numbers gradually
thinned out toward the center; while near the top, close to the edge of
level water, one solitary fish, of powerful fin and tail, breasted the
steep stream. Now forward a leap, then a slide backward, sometimes
further to the rear than the next leap made up for, then steady progress,
then a slip, but every moment nearer, until, clearing foam and ripple and
spray at one bound, it passed the edge and swam happily in smooth water.
It was inside the Dragon Gate.
Now came the wonderful change. One of the fleecy white clouds suddenly
left the host in the deep blue above, dipped down from the sky, and
swirling round and round as if it were a water spout, scratched and
frayed the edge of the water like a fisher's troll. The carp saw and
darted toward it. In a moment the fish was transformed into a white
dragon, and, rising into the cloud, floated off toward Heaven. A streak
or two of red fire, a gleam of terrible eyes, and the flash of white
scales was all that Gojiro saw. Then he awoke.
"How strange that a poor little carp, a common fish that lives in the
river, should become a great white dragon, and soar up into the sky, to
live there," thought Gojiro, the next day, as he told his mother of his
dream.
"Yes," said she; "and what a lesson for you. See how the carp persevered,
leaping over all difficulties, never giving up till it became a dragon. I
hope my son will mount over all obstacles, and rise to honor and to high
office under the government."
"Oh! oh! now I see!" said Gojiro. "That is what my teacher means when he
says the students in Tokio have a saying, 'I'm a fish to day, but I hope
to be a dragon to-morrow,' when they go to attend examination; and that's
what Papa meant when he said: 'That fish's son, Kofuku, has become a
white dragon, while I am yet only a carp.'"
[Illustration: THE ASCENT OF THE DRAGON'S GATE.]
So on the third day of the third month, at the Feast of Flags, Gojiro
hoisted the _nobori_. It was a great fish, made of paper, fifteen feet
long and hollow like a bag. It was yellow, with black scales and streaks
of gold, and red gills and mouth, in which two strong strings were
fastened. It was hoisted up by a rope to the top of a high bamboo pole on
the roof of the house. There the breeze caught it, swelled it out round
and full of air. The wind made the fins work, and the tail flap, and the
head tug, until it looked just like a carp trying to swim the rapids of
the Yellow River--the symbol of ambition and perseverance.
THE PROCESSION OF LORD LONG-LEGS.
Lovely and bright in the month of May, at the time of rice-planting, was
the day on which the daimio, Lord Long-legs, was informed by his
chamberlain, Hop-hop, that on the morrow his lordship's retinue would be
in readiness to accompany their worshipful Lord Long-legs on his journey.
This Lord Long-legs was a daimio who ruled over four acres of rice-field
in Echizen, whose revenue was ten thousand rice-stalks. His retainers,
who were all grasshoppers, numbered over six thousand, while his court
consisted only of nobles, such as Mantis, Beetle, and Pinching-bug. The
maids of honor who waited on his queen Katydid, were lady-bugs,
butterflies, and goldsmiths, and his messengers were fire-flies and
dragon-flies. Once in a while a beetle was sent on an errand; but these
stupid fellows had such a habit of running plump into things, and bumping
their heads so badly that they always forgot what they were sent for.
Besides these, he had a great many servants in the kitchen--such as
grubs, spiders, toads, etc. The entire population of his dominion,
including the common folks, numbered several millions, and ranked all the
way from horse-flies down to ants, mosquitoes, and ticks.
Many of his subjects were very industrious and produced fine fabrics,
which, however, were seized and made use of by great monsters, called
men. Thus the gray worms kept spinning-wheels in their heads. They had a
fashion of eating mulberry leaves, and changing them into fine threads,
called silk. The wasps made paper, and the bees distilled honey. There
was another insect which spread white wax on the trees. These were all
retainers or friendly vassals of Lord Long-legs.
Now it was Lord Long-legs' duty once a year to go up to Yedo to pay his
respects to the great Tycoon and to spend several weeks in the Eastern
metropolis. I shall not take the time nor tax the patience of my readers
in telling about all the bustle and preparation that went on in the
yashiki (mansion) of Lord Long-legs for a whole week previous to
starting. Suffice it to say that clothes were washed and starched, and
dried on a board, to keep them from shrinking; trunks and baskets were
packed; banners and umbrellas were put in order; the lacquer on the
brass ornaments; shields and swords and spears were all polished; and
every little item was personally examined by the daimio's chief
inspector. This functionary was a black-and-white-legged mosquito, who,
on account of his long nose, could pry into a thing further and see it
easier than any other of his lordship's officers; and, if anything went
wrong, he could make more noise over it than any one else. As for the
retainers, down to the very last lackey and coolie, each one tried to
outshine the other in cleanliness and spruce dress.
The Bumble-bee brushed off the pollen from his legs; and the humbler
Honey-bee, after allowing his children to suck his paws, to get the honey
sticking to them, spruced up and listened attentively to the orders read
to him by the train-leader, Sir Locust, who prided himself on being
seventeen years old, and looked on all the others as children. He read
from a piece of wasp-nest paper: "No leaving the line to suck flowers,
except at halting-time." The Blue-tailed Fly washed his hands and face
over and over again. The lady-bugs wept many tears, because they could
not go with the company; the crickets chirped rather gloomily, because
none with short limbs could go on the journey; while Daddy Long-legs
almost turned a somersault for joy when told he might carry a bundle in
the train. All being in readiness, the procession was to start at six
o'clock in the morning. The exact minute was to be announced by the
time-keeper of the mansion, Flea san, whose house was on the back of
Neko, a great black cat, who lived in the porter's lodge of the castle,
near by. Flea san was to notice the opening or slits in the monster's
moony-green eyes, which when closed to a certain width would indicate six
o'clock. Then with a few jumps she was to announce it to a mosquito
friend of hers, who would fly with the news to the gate-keeper of the
yashiki, one Whirligig by name.
So, punctually to the hour, the great double gate swung wide open, and
the procession passed out and marched on over the hill. All the servants
of Lord Long-legs were out, to see the grand sight. They were down on
their knees, saying: "O shidzukani," (please go slowly). When their
master's palanquin passed, they bowed their heads to the dust, as was
proper. The ladies, who were left behind, cried bitterly, and soaked
their paper handkerchiefs with tears, especially one fair brown creature,
who was next of kin to Lord Long-legs, being an ant on his mother's
side.
The procession was closed by six old daddies (spiders), marching two by
two, who were a little stupid and groggy, having had a late supper, and a
jolly feast the night before. When the great gate slammed shut, one of
them caught the end of his foot in it, and was lamed for the rest of the
journey. This old Daddy Long-legs, hobbling along, with a bundle on his
back, was the only funny thing in the procession, and made much talk
among bystanders on the road.
This is the order and the way they looked. First there went out, far
ahead, a plump, tall Mantis, with a great long baton of grass, which he
swung to and fro before him, from right to left, (like a drum-major),
crying out: "_Shitaniro_, down on your knees! Get down with you!" Whereat
all the ants, bugs and lizards at once bent their forelegs, and the
toads, which were already squatting, bobbed their noses in the dust. Even
the mud-turtles poked their heads out of the water to see what was going
on. All the worms and grubs who lived up in trees or tall bushes had to
come down to the ground. It was forbidden to any insect to remain on a
high stalk of grass, lest he might look down on His Highness. Even the
Inch-worm had to wind himself up and stop measuring his length, while the
line was passing. And in case of grubs or moths in the nest or cocoon,
too young to crawl out, the law compelled their parents to cover them
over with a leaf. It would be an insult to Lord Long-legs to look down on
him. Next followed two lantern-bearers, holding glow-worms for lanterns
in their fore-paws. These were wrapped in cases made of leaves, which
they took off at night. Behind were six fire-flies, well supplied with
self-acting lamps, which they kept hidden somewhere under their wings.
Next marched four abreast the band of little weevils, carrying the
umbrellas of state, which were morning-glories--some open, some shut.
Behind them strutted four green grasshoppers, who were spear-bearers,
carrying pink blossoms. Just before the palanquin were two tall dandies,
high lords themselves and of gigantic stature and imposing bellies, who,
with arms akimbo and feelers far up in the air, bore aloft high over all
the insignia of their Lord Long-legs. All these fellows strutted along on
their hind legs, their backs as stiff as a hemp stalk, their noses
pointing to the stars, and their legs striding like stilts. The priest in
his robes, a praying beetle, who was chaplain, walked on solemnly.
Meanwhile a great crowd of spectators lined the path; but all were on
their knees. Frogs and toads blinked out of the sides of their heads. The
pretty red lizards glided out, to see the splendid show; worms stopped
crawling; and all kinds of bugs ceased climbing, and came down from the
grass and flower-stalks, to bow humbly before the train of Lord
Long-legs. Bug mothers hastened, with their bug babies on their backs,
down to the road, and, squatting down, taught their little nits to put
their fore-paws politely together and bow down on their front knees. No
one dared to speak out loud; but the mole-cricket, nudging his fellow
under the wing, said: "Just look at that green Mantis! He looks as though
'he would rush out with a battle-ax on his shoulder to meet a chariot.'
See how he ogles his fellow!"
"Yes; and just behold that bandy-legged hopper, will you? I could walk
better than that myself," said the other.
"'Sh!" said the mole-cricket. "Here comes the palanquin."
Everybody now cast a squint up under their eyebrows, and watched the
palanquin go by. It was made of delicately-woven striped grass, bound
with bamboo threads, lacquered, and finished with curtains of gauze, made
of dragon-fly wings, through which Lord Long-legs could peep. It was
borne on the shoulders of four stalwart hoppers, who, carrying rest-poles
of grass, trudged along, with much sweat and fuss and wiping of their
foreheads, stopping occasionally to change shoulders. At their side
walked a body-guard of eight hoppers, armed with pistils, and having
side-arms of sword-grass. They were also provided with poison-shoots, in
case of trouble. Other bearers followed, keeping step and carrying the
regalia, consisting of chrysanthemum stalks and blossoms. Then followed,
in double rank, a long string of wasps, who were for show and nothing
more. Between them, inside, carefully saddled, bridled, and in full
housings, was a horse-fly, led by a snail, to keep the restive animal
from going at a too rapid pace.
Three big, gawky helmet-headed beetles next followed, bearing
rice-sprouts, with full heads of rice.
"Oh! oh! look there!" cried a little grub at the side of the road. "See
the little grasshopper riding on his father's back!"
"Hai," said Mother Butterfly, putting one paw on her baby's neck, for
fear of being arrested for making a noise.
It was so. The little 'hopper, tired of long walking, had climbed on his
father's back for a ride, holding on by the feelers and seeing
everything.
Finally, toward the end of the procession, was a great crowd of common
'hoppers, beetles, and bugs of all sorts, carrying the presents to be
given in Yedo, and the clothing, food and utensils for the use of Lord
Long-legs on the journey; for the hotels were sometimes very poor on the
Tokaido high road, and the daimio liked his comforts. Besides, it was
necessary for Lord Long-legs to travel with proper dignity, as became a
daimio. His messengers always went before and engaged lodging-places, as
the fleas, spiders and mosquitoes from other localities, who traveled up
and down the great high road, sometimes occupied the places first. The
procession wound up by the rear-guard of Daddy Long-legs, who prevented
any insult or disrespect from the rabble. After the line had passed,
insects could cross the road, traffic and travel were resumed, and the
road was cleared, while the procession faded from view in the distance.
KIYOHIME, OR THE POWER OF LOVE.
Quiet and shady was the spot in the midst of one of the loveliest valley
landscapes in the empire, near the banks of the Hidaka river, where stood
the tea-house kept by one Kojima. It was surrounded on all sides by
glorious mountains, ever robed with deep forests, silver-threaded with
flashing water-falls, to which the lovers of nature paid many a visit,
and in which poets were inspired to write stanzas in praise of the white
foam and the twinkling streamlets. Here the bonzes loved to muse and
meditate, and anon merry picnic parties spread their mats, looped their
canvas screens, and feasted out of nests of lacquered boxes, drinking the
amber sake from cups no larger nor thicker than an egg-shell, while the
sound of guitar and drum kept time to dance and song.
The garden of the tea-house was as lovely a piece of art as the florist's
cunning could produce. Those who emerged from the deep woods of the lofty
hill called the Dragon's Claw, could see in the tea-house garden a living
copy of the landscape before them. There were mimic mountains, (ten feet
high), and miniature hills veined by a tiny, path with dwarfed pine
groves, and tiny bamboo clumps, and a patch of grass for meadow, and a
valley just like the great gully of the mountains, only a thousand times
smaller, and but twenty feet long. So perfect was the imitation that even
the miniature irrigated rice-fields, each no larger than a
checker-board, were in full sprout. To make this little gem of nature in
art complete, there fell from over a rock at one end a lovely little
waterfall two feet high, which after an angry splash over the stones,
rolled on over an absurdly small beech, all white-sanded and pebbled,
threading its silver way beyond, until lost in fringes of lilies and
aquatic plants. In one broad space imitating a lake, was a lotus pond,
lined with iris, in which the fins of gold fish and silver carp flashed
in the sunbeams. Here and there the nose of a tortoise protruded, while
on a rugged rock sat an old grandfather surveying the scene with one or
two of his grand-children asleep on his shell and sunning themselves.
The fame of the tea-house, its excellent fare, and special delicacy of
its mountain trout, sugar-jelly and well-flavored rice-cakes, drew
hundreds of visitors, especially poetry-parties, and lovers of grand
scenery.
Just across the river, which was visible from the verandah of the
tea-house, stood the lofty firs that surrounded the temple of the Tendai
Buddhists. Hard by was the pagoda, which painted red peeped between the
trees. A long row of paper-windowed and tile-roofed dwellings to the
right made up the monastery, in which a snowy eye-browed but rosy-faced
old abbot and some twenty bonzes dwelt, all shaven-faced and
shaven-pated, in crape robes and straw sandals, their only food being
water and vegetables.
Not the least noticeable of the array of stone lanterns, and bronze
images with aureoles round their heads, and incense burners and holy
water tanks, and dragon spouts, was the belfry, which stood on a stone
platform. Under its roof hung the massive bronze bell ten feet high,
which, when struck with a suspended log like a trip-hammer, boomed
solemnly over the valley and flooded three leagues of space with the
melody which died away as sweetly as an infant falling in slumber. This
mighty bell was six inches thick and weighed several tons.
In describing the tea-house across the river, the story of its sweetest
charm, and of its garden the fairest flower must not be left untold.
Kiyo, the host's daughter, was a lovely maiden of but eighteen, as
graceful as the bamboo reed swaying in the breeze of a moonlit summer's
eve, and as pretty as the blossoms of the cherry-tree. Far and wide
floated the fame of Kiyo, like the fragrance of the white lilies of
Ibuki, when the wind sweeping down the mountain heights, comes
perfume-laden to the traveler.
As she busied herself about the garden, or as her white socks slipped
over the mat-laid floor, she was the picture of grace itself. When at
twilight, with her own hands, she lighted the gay lanterns that hung in
festoons along the eaves of the tea-house above the verandah, her bright
eyes sparkling, her red petticoats half visible through her
semi-transparent crape robe, she made many a young man's heart glow with
a strange new feeling, or burn with pangs of jealousy.
Among the priests that often passed by the tea-house on their way to the
monastery, were some who were young and handsome.
It was the rule of the monastery that none of the bonzes should drink
sake (wine) eat fish or meat, or even stop at the tea-houses to talk with
women. But one young bonze named "Lift-the-Kettle" (after a passage in
the Sanscrit classics) had rigidly kept the rules. Fish had never passed
his mouth; and as for sake, he did not know even its taste. He was very
studious and diligent. Every day he learned ten new Chinese characters.
He had already read several of the sacred sutras, had made a good
beginning in Sanskrit, knew the name of every idol in the temple of the
3,333 images in Kioto, had twice visited the sacred shrine of the
Capital, and had uttered the prayer "Namu mi[=o] ho ren ge ki[=o],"
("Glory be to the sacred lotus of the law"), counting it on his rosary,
five hundred thousand times. For sanctity and learning he had no peer
among the young neophytes of the bonzerie.
Alas for "Lift-the-Kettle!". One day, after returning from a visit to a
famous shrine in the Kuanto, (Eastern Japan), as he was passing the
tea-house, he caught sight of Kiyohime, (the "lady" or "princess" Kiyo),
and from that moment his pain of heart began. He returned to his bed of
mats, but not to sleep. For days he tried to stifle his passion, but his
heart only smouldered away like an incense-stick.
Before many days he made a pretext for again passing the house.
Hopelessly in love, without waiting many days he stopped and entered the
tea-house.
His call for refreshments was answered by Kiyohime herself!
As fire kindles fire, so priest and maiden were now consumed in one flame
of love. To shorten a long story, "Lift-the-Kettle" visited the inn
oftener and oftener, even stealing out at night to cross the river and
spend the silent hours with his love.
So passed several months, when suddenly a change come over the young
bonze. His conscience began to trouble him for breaking his vows. In the
terrible conflict between principle and passion, the soul of the priest
was tossed to and fro like the feathered seed-ball of a shuttlecock.
But conscience was the stronger, and won.
He resolved to drown his love and break off his connection with the girl.
To do it suddenly, would bring grief to her and a scandal both on her
family and the monastery. He must do it gradually to succeed at all.