The Star Lovers
One of the most romantic of the old Japanese festivals is the Festival
of Tanabata, the Weaving Lady. It takes place on the seventh day of the
seventh month, and on this occasion it was customary to place freshly
cut bamboos either on the roofs of houses or to fix them in the ground
close beside them. Coloured strips of paper were attached to these
bamboos, and upon every strip of paper was a poem in praise of Tanabata
and her husband Hikoboshi, such as: "As Tanabata slumbers with her long
sleeves rolled up, until the reddening of the dawn, do not, O storks of
the river-shallows, awaken her by your cries." This festival will more
readily be understood when we have described the legend in connection
with it.
The God of the Firmament had a lovely daughter, by name, and she spent
her time in weaving for her august father. One day, while she sat at
her loom, she chanced to see a handsome lad leading an ox, and she
immediately fell in love with him. Tanabata's father, reading her
secret thoughts, speedily consented to their marriage. Unfortunately,
however, they loved "not wisely, but too well," with the result that
Tanabata neglected her weaving, and Hikoboshi's ox was allowed to
wander at large over the High Plain of Heaven. The God of the Firmament
became extremely angry, and commanded that these too ardent lovers
should henceforth be separated by the Celestial River. On the seventh
night of the seventh month, provided the weather was favourable, a
great company of birds formed a bridge across the river, and by this
means the lovers were able to meet. Their all too brief visit was not
even a certainty, for if there were rain the Celestial River would
become too wide for even a great bridge of magpies to span, and the
lovers would be compelled to wait another weary year before there was
even a chance of meeting each other again.
No wonder that on the Festival of the Weaving Maiden little children
should sing, "_Tenki ni nari_" ("Oh, weather, be clear!"). Love laughs
at locksmiths in our own country, but the Celestial River in flood is
another matter. When the weather is fine and the Star Lovers meet each
other after a weary year's waiting it is said that the stars, possibly
Lyra and Aquila, shine with five different colours--blue, green, red,
yellow, and white--and that is why the poems are written on paper of
these colours.
The Robe of Feathers[1]
"Oh, magic strains that fill our ravish'd ears!
The fairy sings, and from the cloudy spheres,
Chiming in unison, the angels' lutes,
Tabrets, and cymbals, and sweet silv'ry flutes,
Ring through the heav'n that glows with purple hues,
As when Someiro's western slope endues
The tints of sunset, while the azure wave
From isle to isle the pine-clad shores doth lave.
From Yukishima's slope--a beauteous storm--
Whirl down the flow'rs: and still that magic form,
Those snowy pinions, flutt'ring in the light,
Ravish our souls with wonder and delight."
_Ha-Goromo_. (Trans. by B. H. Chamberlain.)
It was spring-time, and along Mio's pine-clad shore there came a sound
of birds. The blue sea danced and sparkled in the sunshine, and
Hairukoo, a fisherman, sat down to enjoy the scene. As he did so he
chanced to see, hanging on a pine-tree, a beautiful robe of pure white
feathers.
As Hairukoo was about to take down the robe he saw coming toward
him from the sea an extremely lovely maiden, who requested that the
fisherman would restore the robe to her.
Hairukoo gazed upon the lady with considerable admiration. Said he: "I
found this robe, and I mean to keep it, for it is a marvel to be placed
among the treasures of Japan. No, I cannot possibly give it to you."
"Oh," cried the maiden pitifully, "I cannot go soaring into the sky
without my robe of feathers, for if you persist in keeping it I can
never more return to my celestial home. Oh, good fisherman, I beg of
you to restore my robe!"
The fisherman, who must have been a hard-hearted fellow, refused to
relent. "The more you plead," said he, "the more determined I am to
keep what I have found."
Thus the maiden made answer:
"Speak not, dear fisherman! speak not that word!
Ah! know'st thou not that, like the hapless bird
Whose wings are broke, I seek, but seek in vain,
Reft of my wings, to soar to heav'n's blue plain?"
Trans. by B. H. Chamberlain.
After further argument on the subject the fisherman's heart softened a
little. "I will restore your robe of feathers," said he, "if you will
at once dance before me."
Then the maiden replied: "I will dance it here--the dance that makes
the Palace of the Moon turn round, so that even poor transitory man may
learn its mysteries. But I cannot dance without my feathers."
"No," said the fisherman suspiciously. "If I give you this robe you
will fly away without dancing before me."
This remark made the maiden extremely angry. "The pledge of mortals may
be broken," said she, "but there is no falsehood among the Heavenly
Beings."
These words put the fisherman to shame, and, without more ado, he gave
the maiden her robe of feathers.
The Moon-Lady's Song
When the maiden had put on her pure white garment she struck a musical
instrument and began to dance, and while she danced and played she
sang of many strange and beautiful things concerning her far-away home
in the Moon. She sang of the mighty Palace of the Moon, where thirty
monarchs ruled, fifteen in robes of white when that shining orb was
full, and fifteen robed in black when the Moon was waning. As she sang
and played and danced she blessed Japan, "that earth may still her
proper increase yield!"
The fisherman did not long enjoy this kindly exhibition of the
Moon-Lady's skill, for very soon her dainty feet ceased to tap upon the
sand. She rose into the air, the white feathers of her robe gleaming
against the pine-trees or against the blue sky itself. Up, up she went,
still playing and singing, past the summits of the mountains, higher
and higher, until her song was hushed, until she reached the glorious
Palace of the Moon.
[Footnote 1: The subject of this story resembles a certain Norse
legend. See William Morris's _The Land East of the Sun and West of the
Moon_.]