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XLI THE SPIRIT OF YENOKI1 THERE
is a mountain in the province of Idsumi called Oki-yama (or Oji Yam a);
it is connected
with the Mumaru-Yama mountains. I will not vouch that I am accurate in
spelling
either. Suffice it to say that the story was told to me by Fukuga Sei,
and
translated by Mr. Ando, the Japanese translator of our Consulate at
Kobe. Both
of these give the mountain's name as Okiyama, and say that on the top
of it
from time immemorial there has been a shrine dedicated to Fudo-myo-o (Achala,
in Sanskrit, which means 'immovable,' and is the god always represented
as
surrounded by fire and sitting uncomplainingly on as an example to
others; he
carries a sword in one hand, and a rope in the other, as a warning that
punishment awaits those who are unable to overcome with honour the
painful
struggles of life). Well,
at the top of Oki-yama (high or big mountain) is this very old temple
to Fudo,
and many are the pilgrimages which are made there annually. The
mountain itself
is covered with forest, and there are some remarkable cryptomerias,
camphor and
pine trees. Many
years ago, in the days of which I speak, there were only a few priests
living
up at this temple. Among them was a middle-aged man, half-priest,
half-caretaker, called Yenoki. For twenty years had Yenoki lived at the
temple;
yet during that time he had never cast eyes on the figure of Fudo, over
which
he was partly set to guard; it was kept shut in a shrine and never seen
by any
one but the head priest. One day Yenoki's curiosity got the better of
him.
Early in the morning the door of the shrine was not quite closed.
Yenoki looked
in, but saw nothing. On turning to the light again, he found that he
had lost
the use of the eye that had looked: he was stone-blind in the right
eye. Feeling
that the divine punishment served him well, and that the gods must be
angry, he
set about purifying himself, and fasted for one hundred days. Yenoki
was
mistaken in his way of devotion and repentance, and did not pacify the
gods; on
the contrary, they turned him into a tengu (long-nosed devil who dwells
in
mountains, and is the great teacher of jujitsu). But Yenoki continued to call himself a priest — 'Ichigan Hoshi,' meaning the one-eyed priest — for a year, and then died; and it is said that his spirit passed into an enormous cryptomeria tree on the east side of the mountain. After that, when sailors passed the Chinu Sea (Osaka Bay), if there was a storm they used to pray to the one-eyed priest for help, and if a light was seen on the top of Oki-yama they had a sure sign that, no matter how rough the sea, their ship would not be lost. The Spirit of the One-Eyed Priest, Yenoki, Appears to Sonobé It
may be said, in fact, that after the death of the one-eyed priest more
importance was attached to his spirit and to the tree into which it had
taken
refuge than to the temple itself. The tree was called the Lodging of
the
One-eyed Priest, and no one dared approach it — not even the
woodcutters who
were familiar with the mountains. It was a source of awe and an object
of
reverence. At
the foot of Oki-yama was a lonely village, separated from others by
fully two
ri (five miles), and there were only one hundred and thirty houses in
it. Every
year the villagers used to celebrate the 'Bon' by engaging, after it
was over,
in the dance called 'Bon Odori.' Like most other things in Japan, the
'Bon' and
the 'Bon Odori' were in extreme contrast. The Bon' was a ceremony
arranged for
the spirits of the dead, who are supposed to return to earth for three
days
annually, to visit their family shrines — something like our All
Saints' Day,
and in any case quite a serious religious performance. The 'Bon Odori'
is a
dance which varies considerably in different provinces. It is confined
mostly
to villages — for one cannot count the pretty geisha dances in Kyoto
which are
practically copies of it. It is a dance of boys and girls, one may say,
and
continues nearly all night on the village green. For the three or four
nights
that it lasts, opportunities for flirtations of the most violent kind
are
plentiful. There are no chaperons (so to speak), and (to put it
vulgarly) every
one 'goes on the bust'! Hitherto-virtuous maidens spend the night out
as impromptu
sweethearts; and, in the village of which this story is told, not only
is it
they who let themselves go, but even young brides also. So it
came to pass that the village at the foot of Oki-yama mountain — away
so far
from other villages — was a bad one morally. There was no restriction
to what a
girl might do or what she might not do during the nights of the 'Bon
Odori.'
Things went from bad to worse until, at the time of which I write,
anarchy
reigned during the festive days. At last it came to pass that after a
particularly festive 'Bon,' on a beautiful moonlight night in August,
the
well-beloved and charming daughter of Kurahashi Yozaemon, O Kimi, aged
eighteen
years, who had promised her lover Kurosuke that she would meet him
secretly
that evening, was on her way to do so. After passing the last house in
her
mountain village she came to a thick copse, and standing at the edge of
it was
a man whom O Kimi at first took to be her lover. On approaching she
found that
it was not Kurosuke, but a very handsome youth of twenty-three years.
He did
not speak to her; in fact, he kept a little away. If she advanced, he
receded.
So handsome was the youth, O Kimi felt that she loved him. 'Oh how my
heart
beats for him!' said she. 'After all, why should I not give up
Kurosuke? He is
not good-looking like this man, whom I love already before I have even
spoken
to him. I hate Kurosuke, now that I see this man.' As
she said this she saw the figure smiling and beckoning, and, being a
wicked
girl, loose in her morals, she followed him and was seen no more. Her
family
were much exercised in their minds. A week passed, and O Kimi San did
not
return. A few
days later Tamae, the sixteen-year-old daughter of Kinsaku, who was
secretly in
love with the son of the village Headman, was awaiting him in the
temple
grounds, standing the while by the stone figure of Jizodo (Sanskrit, Kshitigarbha,
Patron of Women and Children). Suddenly there stood near Tamae a
handsome youth
of twenty-three years, as in the case of O Kimi; she was greatly struck
by the
youth's beauty, so much so that when he took her by the hand and led
her off
she made no effort to resist, and she also disappeared. And
thus it was that nine girls of amorous nature disappeared from this
small
village. Everywhere for thirty miles round people talked and wondered,
and said
unkind things. In
Oki-yama village itself the elder people said: 'Yes:
it must be that our children's immodesty since the 'Bon Odori' has
angered
Yenoki San: perhaps it is he himself who appears in the form of this
handsome
youth and carries off our daughters.' Nearly
all agreed in a few days that they owed their losses to the Spirit of
the
Yenoki Tree; and as soon as this notion had taken root the whole of the
villagers locked and barred themselves in their houses both day and
night.
Their farms became neglected; wood was not being cut on the mountain;
business
was at a standstill. The rumour of this state of affairs spread, and
the Lord
of Kishiwada, becoming uneasy, summoned Sonobé Hayama, the most
celebrated
swordsman in that part of Japan. 'Sonobé,
you are the bravest man I know of, and the best fighter. It is for you
to go
and inspect the tree where lodges the spirit of Yenoki. You must use
your own
discretion. I cannot advise as to what it is best that you should do. I
leave
it to you to dispose of the mystery of the disappearances of the nine
girls.' 'My
lord,' said Sonobé, 'my life is at your lordship's call. I shall either
clear
the mystery or die.' After
this interview with his master Sonobé went home. He put himself through
a
course of cleansing. He fasted and bathed for a week, and then repaired
to
Oki-yama. This
was in the month of October, when to me things always look their best.
Sonobé
ascended the mountain, and went first to the temple, which he reached
at three
o'clock in the afternoon, after a hard climb. Here he said prayers
before the
god Fudo for fully half an hour. Then he set out to cross the short
valley
which led up to the Oki-yama mountain, and to the tree which held the
spirit of
the one-eyed priest, Yenoki. It
was a long and steep climb, with no paths, for the mountain was avoided
as much
as possible by even the most adventurous of woodcutters, none of whom
ever
dreamed of going up as far as the Yenoki tree. Sonobé was in good
training and
a bold warrior. The woods were dense; there was a chilling damp, which
came
from the spray of a high waterfall. The solitude was intense, and once
or twice
Sonobé put his hand on the hilt of his sword, thinking that he heard
some one following
in the gloom; but there was no one, and by five o'clock Sonobé had
reached the
tree and addressed it thus: 'Oh,
honourable and aged tree, that has braved centuries of storm, thou hast
become
the home of Yenoki's spirit. In truth there is much honour in having so
stately
a lodging, and therefore he cannot have been so bad a man. I have come
from the
Lord of Kishiwada to upbraid him, however, and to ask what means it
that
Yenoki's spirit should appear as a handsome youth for the purpose of
robbing poor
people of their daughters. This must not continue; else you, as the
lodging of
Yenoki's spirit, will be cut down, so that it may escape to another
part of the
country.' At
that moment a warm wind blew on the face of Sonobé, and dark clouds
appeared
overhead, rendering the forest dark; rain began to fall, and the
rumblings of
earthquake were heard. Suddenly
the figure of an old priest appeared in ghostly form, wrinkled and
thin,
transparent and clammy, nerve-shattering; but Sonobé had no fear. 'You
have been sent by the Lord of Kishiwada,' said the ghost. 'I admire
your
courage for coming. So cowardly and sinful are most men, they fear to
come near
where my spirit has taken refuge. I can assure you that I do no evil to
the
good. So bad had morals become in the village, it was time to give a
lesson.
The villagers’ customs defied the gods. It is true that I, hoping to
improve
these people and make them godly, assumed the form of a youth, and
carried away
nine of the worst of them. They are quite well. They deeply regret
their sins,
and will reform their village. Every day I have given them lectures.
You will
find them on the "Mino toge," or second summit of this mountain, tied
to trees. Go there and release them, and afterwards tell the Lord of
Kishiwada
what the spirit of Yenoki, the one-eyed priest, has done, and that it
is always
ready to help him to improve his people. Farewell!' No
sooner had the last word been spoken than the spirit vanished. Sonobé,
who felt
somewhat dazed by what the spirit had said, started off nevertheless to
the
'Mino toge'; and there, sure enough, were the nine girls, tied each to
a tree,
as the spirit had said. He cut their bonds, gave them a lecture, took
them back
to the village, and reported to the Lord of Kishiwada. Since
then the people have feared more than ever the spirit of the one-eyed
priest.
They have become completely reformed, an example to the surrounding
villages.
The nine houses or families whose daughters behaved so badly contribute
annually the rice eaten by the priests of Fudo-myo-o Temple. It is
spoken of as
'the nine-families rice of Oki.' 1 Fukuga Sei said that this was an old story told him by his nurse, who was a native of the village of Oki-yama; also, that a solid gold Buddha, eighteen inches in height, had been stolen from the temple three years ago. |