When she had finished explaining all this, she called out to a servant, “Someone there—bring a light!” And a torch was brought, burning brightly in its stand. Then she threw back the curtains that had been hiding her from the monk. “Well then—,” she said as she stepped forward. “Can you bear to look at me now?”
Her hair stood up in a mass of tangles like that of a demon. Her face, once so refined, had blue and yellow blotches on it; her feet, no longer their former color, were dirty and unsightly. Blood stained her garments here and there, and they gave off a foul odor that was all but unbearable. Tears pouring down her face, she approached the monk. “If I were to put aside the arts with which I daily adorn myself and appear before you in my true form, this is what my body and my robes would look like, would they not? You are well versed in the Way of the Buddha. So, rather than try to deceive you with feigned appearances, I have ventured, difficult as it is for me, to confront you in my real form!” This was how she explained her actions.
The monk was at a loss for words. Then, weeping profusely, he said, “I have met someone who is a true friend and guide! I will try from now on to turn my mind to worthier thoughts.” Then he hurriedly got into his carriage and made his way home.
1.Rajyashree Pandey, “Women, Sexuality, and Enlightenment: Kankyo no Tomo,” Monumenta Nipponica 50, no. 3 (1995): 325–356.
2.Following earlier Japanese custom, the man courts the woman by paying clandestine visits to her in her home, arriving at night and stealing away the following morning.
3.She has taken on the form and the attire of an avenging demon.
A COLLECTION OF THINGS WRITTEN AND HEARD IN THE PAST AND PRESENT
KOKON CHOMONJŪ
A Collection of Things Written and Heard in the Past and Present (Kokon chomonjū, 1254), the second best known setsuwa collection of the Kamakura period (1183–1333) after A Collection of Tales from Uji (Uji shūi monogatari, early thirteenth century), was edited by Tachibana Narisue. The collection consists of twenty volumes divided into thirty sections, with a total of 697 stories. The thirty sections, each of which begins with an explanation, cover a variety of topics: Shinto (1), Buddhism (2), government and faithful ministers (3), court matters (4), Chinese literature (5), Japanese poetry (6), music, song, and dance (7), calligraphy (8), divinatory practice (9), filial piety (10), amorous affairs (11), martial arts (12), archery (13), horseback riding (14), sumo wrestlers and strong people (15), painting (16), kemari, a kind of football (17), gambling (18), thievery (19), celebration (20), laments (21), excursions (22), obsessions (23), fights (24), witty repartee (25), strange events (26), changelings (27), food and drink (28), plants and trees (29), and fish, insects, and animals (30). This setsuwa collection, which reveals a strong nostalgia for Heian court culture, tries to give an encyclopedic view of aristocratic society, but at the same time, it reaches beyond that, particularly in the second half, to examine various aspects of commoner life in the Kamakura period. One of the characteristics of a Kokon chomonjū anecdote is the twist at the end.
Section 15, on sumo wrestlers and strong people, extends from sumo wrestlers in the imperial palace to physically strong individuals in the world of commoners. Two of the more interesting stories, including “How Saeki Ujinaga Met Ooiko, a Very Strong Woman of Takashima, and of Ooiko’s Earlier Display of Great Strength in Water Disputes” (15:377), are about strong women. One of the compelling stories in section 18, on gambling, is “How a Samurai Who Served Lord Kazan’in Tadatsune, Minister of the Right, Won at Gambling and Received the Tonsure Thanks to His Wife” (18:423). Section 30, on fish, insects, and animals, contains the tale “How a Man Called Umanojō Shot a Male Mandarin Duck in Akanuma in Michinoku Province and Then Received the Tonsure” (30:713), which reveals the confluence of the tradition of the monogatari (court tale) with the realities of provincial hunting.
How Saeki Ujinaga Met Ooiko, a Very Strong Woman of Takashima, and of Ooiko’s Earlier Display of Great Strength in Water Disputes (15:377)
When Saeki Ujinaga, traveling from Echizen Province, first set out to join the sumo tournament meeting in Kyoto, he passed through the village of Ishibashi in Takashima County in Ōmi Province. There he saw a beautiful woman dipping water from a river with a pail and carrying it on her head. One glimpse of her stirred his heart, and, certain that he could not simply pass her by, he got off his horse and slipped his hand beside her arm that was holding the pail.
The woman smiled but showed no sign of resenting his action or loosening her grip on the pail. Finding this particularly appealing, he pushed in his arm firmly next to hers, whereupon she shifted the pail to the other hand and clamped down tightly on Ujinaga’s arm. Ujinaga found this even more engaging, but although the time passed, he discovered that he could not get his arm free. When he tried to pull away, she only clamped harder, so he could not possibly free his arm. In the end, he had no other option than to keep on walking beside her.
When they arrived at her house, they went in, and, after placing the pail on the floor, she loosened her grip on his arm. Laughing, she said, “Still, what kind of man are you, that you play a trick like this on me?” She seemed to be saying that he should have known better, which confused him completely.
“I am from the province of Echigo and am on my way to the sumo tournament in Kyoto,” said Ujinaga. “There are bound to be strong men from all the various provinces taking part.”
When the woman heard this, she agreed. “You’re right—there will be. It’s a tricky situation. The capital is large, and there are certain to be many men of great strength, the kind who stand out in the world. I’m not saying that you’re a complete nobody, but you don’t have the power for such a demanding role either, and that’s the kind you’re likely to find yourself up against. Let me see—how much time is there before the tournament? You’ve got three times seven days. That gives us a little time,” she said.
So they proceeded slowly, not hurrying, taking their time, following the woman’s directions. Beginning on the first evening, she fixed rice that was harder to chew than usual. She herself did the cooking, so you couldn’t tell that it was not ordinary rice. For the first seven evenings, it was indistinguishable from regular rice. For the next seven evenings, it became increasingly hard. And by the last seven evenings, he was completely used to it. Thus, over the course of three times seven, she skillfully accustomed him to the diet he would face. “Now hurry on your way to the tournament!” she said. “I don’t think you’re likely to run into trouble!” And off he went. It was a strange encounter indeed!
Now this Ooiko of Takashima was very active in matters pertaining to the rice fields. When it came time to draw water into the fields, disputes over the use of water often arose, quarrels about whether the water should go this way or that. And when Ooiko did not think that the water had been distributed equitably, she took a stone, square in shape and six or seven shaku1 to a side, and, acting under cover of darkness, put it over the hole where the water came in, so it blocked the water to the others’ fields and allowed it to flow only into hers. Thus she ensured her own plentiful supply of water, while making sure that nobody else had any.
The next morning, when the village people looked, they were astounded at what they found. They saw that the stone diverting the water was one that a hundred of them could not move.
Eventually, the other villagers, admitting defeat, said, “All right—we give up! But from today, when water is needed, let it flow as before. Please move the stone.” “All right!” she replied, and when night came, she moved the stone away. Thereafter, there were no more disputes in the village, but neither did the fields dry up. This came about because of the great strength of this girl Ooiko.
The stone came to be known as Ooiko’s Outlet Stone and is preserved in the county.
How a Samurai Who Served Lord Kazan’in Tadatsune, Minister of the Right, Won at Gambling and Received the Tonsure Thanks to His Wife (18:423)
When Lord Kazan’in, Ministe
r of the Right,2 was in power, the samurai in his service loved the kind of gambling known as shichihan,3 playing it day and night. No matter how much the Minister of the Right inveighed against it, he could not stop them.
There was one samurai who was very poor and hence was not included in those who played shichihan. His wife was in the service of the Court Counsellor Fujiwara no Sadatoshi and each evening went to Ninna-ji to work.4
One night, this samurai was spending the night with his wife. But, heaving a long sigh, he could not get to sleep and passed the whole time lost in thought. His wife, wondering, asked him the reason. “It’s nothing important,” he told her. “Just that I think of how poor I am, and I can’t seem to get sleepy.”
She did not believe him, however, and pressed for a more concrete answer. At last he said, “It isn’t really anything. But it irks me to think that all the men in Lord Kazan’in’s service, young and old alike, are playing that game every day. I’m one of that group, but because I haven’t a penny to spare, I can’t join them. I suppose I’ll always be poor like this, and it’s not that I want to be able to gamble. But I see them having all that fun, and I think that I alone can’t take part in it and join the others. And it’s not just about gambling—it’s about other things too. I begin to wonder what I’m doing with my life.”
When he had gone this far, his wife expressed her sympathy. “I understand—it’s just as you say. When you’re dealing with others, there are good times and bad times, but to be left out of everything—that’s hard to take. But wait until the night is over. I think perhaps I can help,” she said.
“At least you understand,” he replied. “Most women, whatever the circumstances, if they hear that one word ‘gambling,’ they fly up in the air! I’m thankful that you’re not like that. But actually I’m not very eager to take up gambling, though I appreciate your encouragement. I really do.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” said his wife. “The night will soon be over.”
And when it was over, she slipped out of her lone robe and exchanged it for five hundred mon.5 Giving this money to her husband, she said, “Take this and gamble to your heart’s content! Whether you bet with ten or twenty kan6 or with just a little sum, the pleasure is the same, isn’t it? And you’ve said you don’t care that much about the size of the bet.”
The man took the money with many thanks, and the following morning, with the money stored in his breast, hurried to the hall of Lord Kazan’in. There he joined the throng who were milling about.
“I’ve never done this before,” he thought to himself. “Although I’ve watched them doing it morning and night, I’ve never taken part. I don’t know how the dice will roll—I’d better ask somebody.” He addressed one of the gamblers, asking if he could play.
“With all of us playing, is this fellow going to hold back? Is he some kind of goody-goody who doesn’t gamble? What’s going on?” said the man.
“Oh, don’t say that! From today on, I’d like to join in,” he replied.
He had only a small sum of money to bet, and he thought that if he tried to use it a little bit at a time, it would be no good. So he decided to put all of it out at once—“and if I lose, then I lose!” he thought.
When the others had finished laying their bets, the result was announced. It was all over, and he had won one kan. “I didn’t even know what was going on the first time, and they’re going to do it again!” he thought. They were doing it again, so he put down the one kan.
Once again he had won—and he now had two kan.
Then he thought, “I’d better put aside five hundred mon so I won’t lose that—I’ll return that to my wife.” He put the five hundred mon in the breast of his robe and bet the remaining one kan and five hundred mon. “I’ll do it my way this time,” he thought—and again he had won, three kan this time
He went on in this way—one kan, two kan—one good bet after another, until he had reached the total of thirty kan or more. “That’s enough of big winning!” he thought to himself. “Let’s stop here.” And he withdrew from the game with over thirty kan. “What are you quitting now for?” exclaimed the others in surprise. But all he said was, “Enough for now—I’ll go on another time.”
That night, the samurai sent someone to Ninna-ji to take his wife her money. The next day, he and his wife spent the whole day making plans, going about it in a very deliberate manner. They purchased two or three new chests for clothing and other belongings, which gave off a sparkle of opulence, and in the early morning of the second day, he had them brought to the Kazan’in residence.
Then he wrote out a Vow of Intention and posted it on a pillar in the office of the samurai. The Vow of Intention stated: “From this day forward, I vow never to gamble. In the past, I once did so, joining with the others, but that was only once. From now on, if I ever do so again, may I be punished in this life and the next.” When he had posted it, some of his companions condemned him as a cheap spoilsport, but others praised him.
The man then went to his wife’s place and announced, “I now have thirty kan. I’m giving you ten kan as your share. I ought by rights give you the whole thing, since if it hadn’t been for your kindness, there wouldn’t be anything at all. However, I’m getting along in years and probably don’t have a great many left. I intend to enter the priesthood if I can, but I don’t have any money saved up to cover my meals. So that’s a problem. But if I set aside the remaining twenty kan for my meals, and chant Amida Buddha’s name, I think I might make it to the Pure Land. I’ll never forget how kind you’ve been all these years. And, unless it’s repugnant to you, we can still meet from time to time. Perhaps you could even wash up the old rags I’ll be wearing. That would be nice, too.”
“Let me congratulate you on your decision to take religious vows,” said his wife. “It’s true—this world we live in is an uncertain place. And that you see it that way makes me happy, not only for your sake but for mine, too.”
Having received his wife’s approval of his plan, he was delighted and at once took religious vows. Then, taking ten kan of the original thirty kan, he proceeded to the Shijō area of the city. There, in a very small house, he said to the owner, “Here is ten kan, which I would like to give you. In the space of a month, I will be spending the first fifteen days in your house. The money is to pay for the two meals that I will eat on such days. When the money runs out, that will be the end of the arrangement.” The master of the house agreed to the conditions, and so the matter was settled.
“You may think,” he said, “that if one does business in this fashion, the house would be too small, so how could being cramped up in such a small room be all right? But it’s just a matter of attitude.” He was in fact quite content with his room under the eaves. And from there he looked down on the people of the world dashing around and realized how vain and impermanent it all was. And so he intoned the Buddha’s name and passed his first fifteen-day period. And then he took his last ten kan, went to the Shichijō area of the city, and made a similar arrangement for his meals in the latter fifteen-day period of the month.
As the merit of his invocation of the Buddha’s name piled up and his devotion to the Way became apparent, those around him were affected, large numbers of them turning to religion. One after another they came forward, insisting that his meal that day would be their contribution. Thus his ten kan was no longer needed at either house, and the masters of the two places benefited accordingly.
When the time came for him to die, he knew in advance what was ahead. He journeyed to his wife’s place in Ninna-ji, where without the slightest difficulty, in full possession of his faculties, he sat down in the correct posture, put his palms together, and, raising his voice, recited the Buddha’s name and passed away. And through the power of his excellent example, his wife, too, became an ardent proponent of the faith, all through the beneficent guidance of the Buddha Amida.
How a Man Called Umanojō Shot a Male Mandarin Duck in Akanuma in Michinoku P
rovince and Then Received the Tonsure (30:713)
In Michinoku Province, the village of Tamura, there lived a man named Umanojō So-and-so who raised hawks. One day, when his hawks had failed to catch any birds and he was coming home empty-handed, at a place called Akanuma he saw a pair of mandarin ducks flying about. Fitting an arrow with a special type of point to his bow, he shot and killed the male of the pair. He fed the body to his hawks and put the remainder in his bag and took it home.
That night in a dream, a beautiful little woman came to his pillow, crying piteously. Wondering at this, he asked, “Who are you, and why are you crying?”
She replied, “Yesterday at Akanuma, a terrible thing happened. You killed my husband, my companion of many years, and therefore I weep in unbearable sorrow. I have come to tell you of this. Because of this sorrow, I do not know how I can go on living.” Weeping uncontrollably, she recited this poem in Japanese and then went away, still weeping:
Hi kurureba As evening comes,
sasoi shi mono wo how sad that I,
Akanuma no who had slept with my mate,
makomo-gakure no must sleep alone in the shade
hitorine zo uki of the marsh grass of Akanuma.
The Demon at Agi Bridge and Other Japanese Tales (Translations from the Asian Classics) Page 15
