Read Ebook: Shadowings by Hearn Lafcadio

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Ebook has 524 lines and 75022 words, and 11 pages

She to whom he was now to be wedded, in her father's house, was the body.

Benten had wrought this miracle for the sake of her worshippers.

The original story breaks off suddenly at this point, leaving several matters unexplained. The ending is rather unsatisfactory. One would like to know something about the mental experiences of the real maiden during the married life of her phantom. One would also like to know what became of the phantom,--whether it continued to lead an independent existence; whether it waited patiently for the return of its husband; whether it paid a visit to the real bride. And the book says nothing about these things. But a Japanese friend explains the miracle thus:--

The Gratitude of the Sam?bito

THERE was a man named Tawaraya T?tar?, who lived in the Province of ?mi. His house was situated on the shore of Lake Biwa, not far from the famous temple called Ishiyamadera. He had some property, and lived in comfort; but at the age of twenty-nine he was still unmarried. His greatest ambition was to marry a very beautiful woman; and he had not been able to find a girl to his liking.

The Long Bridge of S?ta , famous in Japanese legend, is nearly eight hundred feet in length, and commands a beautiful view. This bridge crosses the waters of the S?tagawa near the junction of the stream with Lake Biwa. Ishiyamadera, one of the most picturesque Buddhist temples in Japan, is situated within a short distance from the bridge.

This petition was uttered in so plaintive a tone, and in so humble a manner, that T?tar?'s heart was touched. "Come with me," he said. "There is in my garden a large and deep pond where you may live as long as you wish; and I will give you plenty to eat."

Thereafter, for nearly half a year, this strange guest dwelt in the pond, and was every day supplied by T?tar? with such food as sea-creatures like.

T?tar? returned home very much dismayed by this information. The more that he thought about the strange betrothal-gift demanded by the girl's parents, the more he felt that he could never expect to obtain her for his wife. Even supposing that there were as many as ten thousand jewels in the whole country, only a great prince could hope to procure them.

But not even for a single hour could T?tar? banish from his mind the memory of that beautiful being. It haunted him so that he could neither eat nor sleep; and it seemed to become more and more vivid as the days went by. And at last he became ill,--so ill that he could not lift his head from the pillow. Then he sent for a doctor.

The doctor, after having made a careful examination, uttered an exclamation of surprise. "Almost any kind of sickness," he said, "can be cured by proper medical treatment, except the sickness of love. Your ailment is evidently love-sickness. There is no cure for it. In ancient times R?ya-? Hakuyo died of that sickness; and you must prepare yourself to die as he died." So saying, the doctor went away, without even giving any medicine to T?tar?.

About this time the Shark-Man that was living in the garden-pond heard of his master's sickness, and came into the house to wait upon T?tar?. And he tended him with the utmost affection both by day and by night. But he did not know either the cause or the serious nature of the sickness until nearly a week later, when T?tar?, thinking himself about to die, uttered these words of farewell:--

"I suppose that I have had the pleasure of caring for you thus long, because of some relation that grew up between us in a former state of existence. But now I am very sick indeed, and every day my sickness becomes worse; and my life is like the morning dew which passes away before the setting of the sun. For your sake, therefore, I am troubled in mind. Your existence has depended upon my care; and I fear that there will be no one to care for you and to feed you when I am dead.... My poor friend!... Alas! our hopes and our wishes are always disappointed in this unhappy world!"

No sooner had T?tar? spoken these words than the Sam?bito uttered a strange wild cry of pain, and began to weep bitterly. And as he wept, great tears of blood streamed from his green eyes and rolled down his black cheeks and dripped upon the floor. And, falling, they were blood; but, having fallen, they became hard and bright and beautiful,--became jewels of inestimable price, rubies splendid as crimson fire. For when men of the sea weep, their tears become precious stones.

Then T?tar?, beholding this marvel, was so amazed and overjoyed that his strength returned to him. He sprang from his bed, and began to pick up and to count the tears of the Shark-Man, crying out the while: "My sickness is cured! I shall live! I shall live!"

Therewith, the Shark-Man, greatly astonished, ceased to weep, and asked T?tar? to explain this wonderful cure; and T?tar? told him about the young person seen at Miidera, and about the extraordinary marriage-gift demanded by her family. "As I felt sure," added T?tar?, "that I should never be able to get ten thousand jewels, I supposed that my suit would be hopeless. Then I became very unhappy, and at last fell sick. But now, because of your generous weeping, I have many precious stones; and I think that I shall be able to marry that girl. Only--there are not yet quite enough stones; and I beg that you will be good enough to weep a little more, so as to make up the full number required."

But at this request the Sam?bito shook his head, and answered in a tone of surprise and of reproach:--

"Do you think that I am like a harlot,--able to weep whenever I wish? Oh, no! Harlots shed tears in order to deceive men; but creatures of the sea cannot weep without feeling real sorrow. I wept for you because of the true grief that I felt in my heart at the thought that you were going to die. But now I cannot weep for you, because you have told me that your sickness is cured."

"Then what am I to do?" plaintively asked T?tar?. "Unless I can get ten thousand jewels, I cannot marry the girl!"

The Sam?bito remained for a little while silent, as if thinking. Then he said:--

"Listen! To-day I cannot possibly weep any more. But to-morrow let us go together to the Long Bridge of S?ta, taking with us some wine and some fish. We can rest for a time on the bridge; and while we are drinking the wine and eating the fish, I shall gaze in the direction of the Dragon-Palace, and try, by thinking of the happy days that I spent there, to make myself feel homesick--so that I can weep."

T?tar? joyfully assented.

Next morning the two, taking plenty of wine and fish with them, went to the S?ta bridge, and rested there, and feasted. After having drunk a great deal of wine, the Sam?bito began to gaze in the direction of the Dragon-Kingdom, and to think about the past. And gradually, under the softening influence of the wine, the memory of happier days filled his heart with sorrow, and the pain of homesickness came upon him, so that he could weep profusely. And the great red tears that he shed fell upon the bridge in a shower of rubies; and T?tar? gathered them as they fell, and put them into a casket, and counted them until he had counted the full number of ten thousand. Then he uttered a shout of joy.

Almost in the same moment, from far away over the lake, a delightful sound of music was heard; and there appeared in the offing, slowly rising from the waters, like some fabric of cloud, a palace of the color of the setting sun.

At once the Sam?bito sprang upon the parapet of the bridge, and looked, and laughed for joy. Then, turning to T?tar?, he said:--

"There must have been a general amnesty proclaimed in the Dragon-Realm; the Kings are calling me. So now I must bid you farewell. I am happy to have had one chance of befriending you in return for your goodness to me."

With these words he leaped from the bridge; and no man ever saw him again. But T?tar? presented the casket of red jewels to the parents of Tamana, and so obtained her in marriage.

JAPANESE STUDIES

... Life ere long Came on me in the public ways, and bent Eyes deeper than of old: Death met I too, And saw the dawn glow through. --GEORGE MEREDITH

S?mi

A CELEBRATED Chinese scholar, known in Japanese literature as Riku-Un, wrote the following quaint account of the Five Virtues of the Cicada:--

We might compare this with the beautiful address of Anacreon to the cicada, written twenty-four hundred years ago: on more than one point the Greek poet and the Chinese sage are in perfect accord:--

In this and other citations from the Greek anthology, I have depended upon Burges' translation.

On the other hand, we find Japanese poets much more inclined to praise the voices of night-crickets than those of s?mi. There are countless poems about s?mi, but very few which commend their singing. Of course the s?mi are very different from the cicadae known to the Greeks. Some varieties are truly musical; but the majority are astonishingly noisy,--so noisy that their stridulation is considered one of the great afflictions of summer. Therefore it were vain to seek among the myriads of Japanese verses on s?mi for anything comparable to the lines of Evenus above quoted; indeed, the only Japanese poem that I could find on the subject of a cicada caught by a bird, was the following:--

Ana kanashi! Tobi ni toraruru S?mi no ko?. --RANSETSU.

Ah! how piteous the cry of the s?mi seized by the kite!

Or "caught by a boy" the poet might equally well have observed,--this being a much more frequent cause of the pitiful cry. The lament of Nicias for the tettix would serve as the elegy of many a s?mi:--

I have not yet succeeded in finding any Japanese verses alluding to the stridulatory apparatus of s?mi,--though I think it probable that such verses exist. Certainly the Japanese have been for centuries familiar with the peculiarities of their own singing insects. But I should not now presume to say that their poets are incorrect in speaking of the "voices" of crickets and of cicadae. The old Greek poets who actually describe insects as producing music with their wings and feet, nevertheless speak of the "voices," the "songs," and the "chirruping" of such creatures,--just as the Japanese poets do. For example, Meleager thus addresses the cricket:

BEFORE speaking further of the poetical literature of s?mi, I must attempt a few remarks about the s?mi themselves. But the reader need not expect anything entomological. Excepting, perhaps, the butterflies, the insects of Japan are still little known to men of science; and all that I can say about s?mi has been learned from inquiry, from personal observation, and from old Japanese books of an interesting but totally unscientific kind. Not only do the authors contradict each other as to the names and characteristics of the best-known s?mi; they attach the word s?mi to names of insects which are not cicadae.

The following enumeration of s?mi is certainly incomplete; but I believe that it includes the better-known varieties and the best melodists. I must ask the reader, however, to bear in mind that the time of the appearance of certain s?mi differs in different parts of Japan; that the same kind of s?mi may be called by different names in different provinces; and that these notes have been written in T?ky?.

Hatsu-s?mi ya! "Kor? wa atsui" to Iu hi yori. --TAIMU.

The day after the first day on which we exclaim, "Oh, how hot it is!" the first s?mi begins to cry.

Ano ko? d? Tsuyu ga inochi ka?-- Aburaz?mi!

Higurashi ya! Sut?t?oit?mo Kururu hi wo.

O Higurashi!--even if you let it alone, day darkens fast enough!

Already, O Higurashi, your call announces the evening! Alas, for the passing day, with its duties left undone!

Tsuku-tsuku-uisu, Tsuku-tsuku-uisu, Tsuku-tsuku-uisu:-- Ui-?su Ui-?su Ui-?su Ui-?s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-su.

That is to say, upon the 16th day of the 7th month.

Another version runs,--

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