|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 35
[Footnote 69: The Emperor Saimei reigned from 655 to 662 (A.D.);
the Emperor Saga from 810 to 842.--Kudara was an ancient kingdom in
southwestern Korea, frequently mentioned in early Japanese history.--A
_Naishinn[=o]_ was of Imperial blood. In the ancient court-hierarchy
there were twenty-five ranks or grades of noble ladies;--that of
_Naishinno_ was seventh in order of precedence.]
[Footnote 70: For centuries the wives of the emperors and the ladies
of the Imperial Court were chosen from the Fujiwara clan--The period
called H[=o]gen lasted from 1156 to 1159: the war referred to is the
famous war between the Taira and Minamoto clans.]
[Footnote 71: In old-time belief every lake or spring had its
invisible guardian, supposed to sometimes take the form of a serpent
or dragon. The spirit of a lake or pond was commonly spoken of
as _Ik�-no-Mushi_, the Master of the Lake. Here we find the title
"Master" given to a dragon living in a well; but the guardian of wells
is really the god Suijin.]
* * * * *
Matsumura was able to profit by this premonition. He removed his
people and his belongings to another district the next day; and almost
immediately afterwards another storm arose, even more violent than the
first, causing a flood which swept away the house in which he had been
residing.
Some time later, by favor of the Lord Hosokawa, Matsumura was enabled
to obtain an audience of the Sh[=o]gun Yoshimasa, to whom he presented
the mirror, together with a written account of its wonderful history.
Then the prediction of the Spirit of the Mirror was fulfilled; for the
Sh[=o]gun, greatly pleased with this strange gift, not only bestowed
costly presents upon Matsumura, but also made an ample grant of money
for the rebuilding of the Temple of Ogawachi-My[=o]jin.
THE STORY OF IT[=O] NORISUK�
In the town of Uji, in the province of Yamashiro, there lived, about
six hundred years ago, a young samurai named It[=o] Tat�waki Norisuk�,
whose ancestors were of the H��k� clan. It[=o] was of handsome person
and amiable character, a good scholar and apt at arms. But his family
were poor; and he had no patron among the military nobility,--so
that his prospects were small. He lived in a very quiet way, devoting
himself to the study of literature, and having (says the Japanese
story-teller) "only the Moon and the Wind for friends."
One autumn evening, as he was taking a solitary walk in the
neighborhood of the hill called Kotobikiyama, he happened to overtake
a young girl who was following the same path. She was richly dressed,
and seemed to be about eleven or twelve years old. It[=o] greeted her,
and said, "The sun will soon be setting, damsel, and this is rather a
lonesome place. May I ask if you have lost your way?" She looked up
at him with a bright smile, and answered deprecatingly: "Nay! I am
a _miya-dzukai_,[72] serving in this neighborhood; and I have only a
little way to go."
[Footnote 72: August-residence servant.]
By her use of the term _miya-dzukai_, It[=o] knew that the girl must
be in the service of persons of rank; and her statement surprised him,
because he had never heard of any family of distinction residing in
that vicinity. But he only said: "I am returning to Uji, where my home
is. Perhaps you will allow me to accompany you on the way, as this is
a very lonesome place." She thanked him gracefully, seeming pleased
by his offer; and they walked on together, chatting as they went. She
talked about the weather, the flowers, the butterflies, and the birds;
about a visit that she had once made to Uji, about the famous sights
of the capital, where she had been born;--and the moments passed
pleasantly for It[=o], as he listened to her fresh prattle. Presently,
at a turn in the road, they entered a hamlet, densely shadowed by a
grove of young trees.
* * * * *
[Here I must interrupt the story to tell you that, without having
actually seen them, you cannot imagine how dark some Japanese country
villages remain even in the brightest and hottest weather. In the
neighborhood of T[=o]ky[=o] itself there are many villages of this
kind. At a short distance from such a settlement you see no houses:
nothing is visible but a dense grove of evergreen trees. The grove,
which is usually composed of young cedars and bamboos, serves to
shelter the village from storms, and also to supply timber for various
purposes. So closely are the trees planted that there is no room to
pass between the trunks of them: they stand straight as masts, and
mingle their crests so as to form a roof that excludes the sun. Each
thatched cottage occupies a clear space in the plantation, the trees
forming a fence about it, double the height of the building. Under
the trees it is always twilight, even at high noon; and the houses,
morning or evening, are half in shadow. What makes the first
impression of such a village almost disquieting is, not the
transparent gloom, which has a certain weird charm of its own, but
the stillness. There may be fifty or a hundred dwellings; but you see
nobody; and you hear no sound but the twitter of invisible birds, the
occasional crowing of cocks, and the shrilling of cicad�. Even the
cicad�, however, find these groves too dim, and sing faintly; being
sun-lovers, they prefer the trees outside the village. I forgot to
say that you may sometimes hear a viewless shuttle--_chaka-ton,
chaka-ton_;--but that familiar sound, in the great green silence,
seems an elfish happening. The reason of the hush is simply that the
people are not at home. All the adults, excepting some feeble elders,
have gone to the neighboring fields, the women carrying their babies
on their backs; and most of the children have gone to the nearest
school, perhaps not less than a mile away. Verily, in these dim
hushed villages, one seems to behold the mysterious perpetuation of
conditions recorded in the texts of Kwang-Tze:--
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|