THE PRINCESS OF THE BOWL
(The Project Gutenberg eBook of Warriors of Old
Japan, and Other Stories. This story is for the use of anyone anywhere in the
United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. Project Gutenberg License included at
www.gutenberg.org.Title: Warriors of Old Japan, and Other Stories, Author: Yei
Theodora Ozaki)
Long, long ago, in old Japan, there lived near Katano, in the
Kawachi Province, a prince named Bitchu-no-Kami Minetaka or Lord Minetaka, as
we should say in English. He was not only a very wealthy man, but it was
reported that his house was full of rare and wonderful treasures. He was also a
learned man and the master of many accomplishments. His life was passed in the
luxurious leisure of the rich, and he knew nothing of care or want—perhaps he
hardly realized what such words meant.
But above all the treasures in his storehouse, beyond the
wealth of his revenue which came pouring in year by year in bushels of rice, he
prized his only child, his daughter. The prince and his wife brought this
daughter up with great love and tenderness as if she were some rare flower or
fragile butterfly. So beautiful indeed was the young girl that in looking at
her their friends and relations wondered whether the Sun Goddess Amaterasu had
not come to earth again in the form of the little Princess.
Nothing came to mar the happiness of this united little family
till the daughter was fifteen years of age. Then suddenly the mother, who had
never known a day's illness in her whole life, was taken ill. At first it
seemed to be but a slight cold, but her health, instead of getting better, only
grew worse and worse. She felt that she would never recover and that her end
was very near, so she called her daughter beside her pillow, and, taking a
large lacquer bowl from the bedside, she placed it on her daughter's head,
saying: "My poor little child, I want you always to wear this bowl. At
your innocent age you can understand nothing of the world in which I must leave
you motherless. I pity you with all my heart; ah! if you were at least
seventeen or eighteen years old I could die with more peace of mind. I am
indeed loath to go, leaving you behind so young. Try to be a good daughter and
never forget your mother."
The woman's tears fell fast as she spoke, and her voice was
broken with sobs while she stroked her little girl's hand. But things are not
as one wishes in this life. All the doctor's skill could not save the mother;
she died and left her daughter behind motherless in the world.
Words cannot tell the grief of the bereaved father and child;
it was so great. At last, after some time had passed and the ordinary routine
of life in Prince Minetaka's household was resumed, the father noticed the bowl
which his daughter wore on her head, and which fell so low as completely to
hide her face; and calling her to him tried to take off the unsightly head
gear. But his efforts were in vain. All the retainers and then the servants
were summoned to see what they could do, but no one could remove the bowl; it
stuck fast to the child's head. No one could understand the mystery. The bowl
had been put on most simply; why could it not be as easily taken off? This was
the question which the whole household asked again and again.
And the young Princess, besides sorrowing for the loss of her
mother, was greatly troubled at the knowledge that, though born physically
perfect, she was now quite disfigured for life in having to wear the ugly bowl
which her mother for some unknown reason had placed on her head. If no one
succeeded in taking the bowl off, she might have to wear it her whole life.
That would indeed be a terrible affliction. But despite all she never forgot
her mother even for a moment but carried in her heart the memory of her love
and care through every hour of the livelong day. Every morning, as soon as she
rose from her bed on the mats, she placed the little cup of tea and the bowl of
rice before the tablet bearing her mother's name in the household shrine and
having set the incense burning, she would kneel and pray for the happiness of
her mother's soul.
The days passed into weeks, the weeks grew into months, yet
the dutiful daughter never failed morning or evening thus to pray for her lost
mother.
In the meantime, the family relations often came to advise her
father, Prince Minetaka, to marry again.
"It is not good for you to be alone," they said.
"Marry a suitable woman and entrust her with the keeping of your house and
the care of your young daughter, who is now of an age when she most needs a
woman's care."
At first Prince Minetaka would not listen to them, the memory
of his dead wife was too fresh and his sorrow too keen for him to be able to
lend a willing ear to their persuasion. He felt that it was a reproach to her
he had loved even to think of putting another woman in her place. But as the
months went by, he found himself much tried with the affairs of the household
and was often so perplexed that he thought perhaps it might be better to listen
to the advice of his meddling relations. So, without thinking much about the
future he decided to take a second wife.
His friends were glad to find that their persuasions were of
avail at last, and with the help of go-betweens they arranged that he should
marry a certain lady of noble family whom they deemed worthy and suitable in
all respects.
So, the soothsayers were consulted, and a lucky day chosen for
the marriage, and the new wife was then installed in Prince Minetaka's home
amidst the congratulations of both families. The little Princess alone was
sorrowful in her inmost heart at seeing some one taking her mother's place; but
it would be unfilial to her father to show that for one instant she did not
approve of his second marriage, so she hid her unhappiness and smiled.
On seeing the little Princess for the first time, the
stepmother was shocked at the deformity of the bowl and said to herself that
never had she even dreamed that there could be any one in the world doomed to
be such an ugly cripple. She not only despised but hated her stepchild from the
moment that she saw her. This new wife was indeed a very different woman from
her predecessor, whose heart was so good and kind towards all who came near her
that the idea of disliking, much less hating any one was impossible to her.
A year passed by, and the stepmother gave birth to a child.
Jealousy for her own infant daughter now made her hate her stepchild more and
more. It was her great desire to see her own daughter first in Prince
Minetaka's affection, and to attain her utterly selfish end she knew she must
oust her stepchild from the house. Determined to estrange the father from the
little Princess, she told her husband fabricated, unfavourable stories of her
supposed behaviour and her unruly character.
The Bowl-Wearing Princess soon understood that her stepmother
hated her; resultantly, her grief and anxiety grew to an unbearable point. But
there was no one in the house in whom she could confide, furthermore, she knew
that to complain of her stepmother to anyone, even to her father, would be
deemed (unfilial) undutiful. What was she to do in her trouble? To whom could
she go but to her own mother? So as often as she could she visited her grave
and once there, she always knelt and poured out the woe (sorrowful grievances)
that filled her heart.
"O mother, why must I live on in the world with this ugly
bowl on my head? My stepmother truly has a reason for hating such a child about
the house. Now that she has a daughter of her own, even more she must want to
get rid of me! And my father, who used to love me dearly, he too will surely
soon give all his love to his new daughter and forget me! Alas! Alas! the only
place that is left to me to come to without fear of dislike is the side of my
own dead mother. O mother, sitting upon the lotus leaves in Paradise, receive
me now upon the same leaf. Oh! that I might thus escape the sorrow of this
world and enter upon the way of Buddha!"
But the Boundary of Life and Death separated the mother and
child, and though she prayed earnestly and with tears, lifting her whole heart
and soul up in her despair, no answer came to her eagerly listening ear. As she
knelt in the little graveyard only the sound of the wind sighing in the pine
trees answered her. All the same, having
aired out her grievances and told her mother everything, comforted her heart a
bit, and so she a with mournful, downcast eyes returned home.
The stepmother was told of her stepdaughter's frequent visits
to the graveyard, but instead of being touched with pity for the motherless
child, she utilized these incidences to further slander Princess to her
husband.
"I am told that the Bowl-Wearer, your daughter, often
goes to her mother's grave and curses me and my child because of her intense
jealousy! Her rants and ravings clearly demonstrate her wicked heart?"
The vindictive stepmother day by day watched the little girl
wend her way from the house to the graveyard and then repeated in her husband's
ear her pretended dire fears. In her heart she knew quite well that it was only
love and unhappiness that sent her unfortunate stepchild to the grave of her
mother.
Finally, one day she stated that something must be done about
this, as she was now afraid of the evil that might befall her and her child
through the Bowl-Wearer's malice; hence, she had decided that they could no
longer live together in the same house.
Prince Minetaka, who had hitherto (previously) only given half
an ear (never listened much) to his wife's tales, was at last persuaded by her
importunity into believing them true. So, in an evil hour he summoned his
daughter and said: "What is this I hear, wicked daughter? Your deformity
has long since been a source of irritation to me, but as long as you behaved
well, I put up with it. Now I am told that you go every day to the grave of
your mother to curse my wife and her innocent little child. It is impossible
for me to keep under my roof anyone who is so crippled not only in body but in
mind as you are. Go wherever you will from to-day, but longer in this house you
shall not stay!"
While the father was speaking these terrible words the
stepmother sat behind him, smiling in derision at the poor little Princess and
in triumph at the success of her wicked stratagem.
"Woe to the Bowl-Wearing Princess!"
The servants, at the command of her father, took off her
silken robes and put on her a miserable common cotton gown, such as beggars
wear, and drove her out into the road.
The Princess was altogether bewildered at the suddenness of
her misfortune.
She felt like a wanderer in an unknown land, lost in the
darkness of night. So distracted was she at first that she could only stand
still in the middle of the street, not knowing which way to turn. But people,
passing by, stared at her so that she soon realized that she must not stand
like that all day, so she began to move whither her feet led her.
In this way she came to the bank of a large river. As she
stood and looked at the flowing water, she could not help thinking that it
would be far better for her to become the dust of the riverbed than endure the
hardships of her present lot. Would it not be better to die and so join her
mother than wander about like a beggar from place to place begging her rice?
With this thought she made up her mind to drown herself. But the roar of the
river was so great as it dashed over the boulders of its rocky bed that the
maiden hesitated at first. Then, summoning up all her courage with a desperate
effort, she jumped in.
The maiden Hachikazuki, depicted in the style of a Sanzōshi-emaki. |
Strange to say, however, the bowl, which had hitherto been
such a curse to her, was now a blessing. It lifted her head clear above the
water and would not let her sink. As she floated down the stream a fishing-boat
came by. The fisherman, seeing a big bowl rising out of the water, lifted it
up. His surprise was great when underneath the bowl he found a human being.
Thinking it to be some strange monster, he threw it upon the bank.
The poor girl was at first stunned by her fall. When she came
to herself, she said that it was a pity she could not die as she had wished.
She got up from the ground and, in a miserable plight, for her clothes were
dripping with water, began to walk on, and after some time she found herself in
the streets of a town.
Here the people, as soon as they saw her, began to point the
finger of scorn at her, and to jeer and laugh at the strange-looking bowl on
her head.
"Oh! oh! do you see this queer creature with the bowl
coming down from the mountains? Look! Look!" Then as some of them came
nearer they said: "It is strange that a monster should have such beautiful
hands and feet. What a pity this creature was not born a woman!"
Just then the lord of the district passed by on his way home
from the hunt. Seeing the gathering of people, he stopped and inquired what was
the matter. His retainers pointed out the Bowl-Wearer to him. From the grace of
her slender form, and the modesty of her bearing, Lord Yamakage judged her to
be a young woman, though he could not of course see her face, which was
completely hidden by the bowl. He ordered the Bowl-Wearer to be brought to him.
Two or three of his retainers went to execute his orders and came back bringing
the poor unhappy Princess with them.
"Tell me the truth," said Lord Yamakage to the girl;
"who or what are you?"
"I am the daughter of one Minetaka by name, and my home
is near Katano. My mother, when dying, placed this bowl on my head, and since
her death it has become so firmly fixed there that no one can take it off, and
I am obliged to wear it always, as you see me now. Because of the unsightliness
of my appearance, I have been driven away from my home. No one takes pity on
me, and I am forced to wander from place to place without knowing where to lay
my head at night."
"Well, well!" said the kind man. "Your story is
truly a pitiful one. I will take the bowl off for you!"
When he had said these words, Lord Yamakage ordered his
retainers to pull off the bowl from the girl's head. The men, one and all,
tried to free the Princess from the obnoxious bowl, but it stuck so obstinately
to her head that all their efforts were useless. It even uttered loud cries and
groans of pain as they tugged at it. Everyone was dumbfounded at the
inexplicable mystery, and at last they all began to laugh.
When Lord Yamakage saw that there was nothing to be done to
help her, he spoke to the Bowl-Wearer again. "Where are you going to spend
to-night?"
"I am quite homeless," answered the Bowl-Wearer, in
a heartbroken way, "and I do not know where I shall lay my head to-night.
There is no one in the wide world to take pity on me, and everyone who sees me
either jeers or runs away because of the bowl on my head."
Lord Yamakage felt his heart fill with pity and said: "It
may bring luck to have such a strange creature in my house!" Then he
turned to the girl and said: "How would you like to come home with me for
the present, Bowl-Wearer?"
And with these words he gave her in charge of his attendants,
who took her with them to their lord's house.
It was an easy matter to take her to the house, but not so
easy to find her a place there. His wife objected to her becoming a
waiting-maid, saying that no one could bear the sight of so strange a creature
about. So, the servants at last took her to the bathroom and told her that she
must fetch and carry the water and look after the fire for heating the bath.
This was to be her work!
As the little Princess had never done such rough work in the
whole of her life, she suffered much in obeying these cruel orders; but she
resigned herself to her fate and tried with all humility and patience to
perform her hard task faultlessly.
But her lot was far from being a happy one, even though she
had found the safe shelter of Lord Yamakage's home. The young and uncouth
tradesmen, coming on errands to the house, made fun of her, some even trying to
peep under the bowl to get a glimpse of the beautiful face beneath. While she
was thus persecuted in the daytime, in the evening the servants gave her no
rest with their peremptory orders. "Hot water here!" "Cold water
there!" "Get the bath ready!" and so on.
The poor girl bore all this rude usage patiently; but as she
went about her work she could not help remembering the old times of her happy
childhood, spent under the loving care of her own dear mother, of the honored
place she had held in her father's household till within the last few days; and
as she carried the hot water or stoked the bath-fire she pretended that those
fast-falling tears of sadness were caused by the fumes of charcoal and the
steam which rose from the hot water. When she crept weeping to bed at night it
seemed to her as if the past day must be an evil dream.
Lord Yamakage had four sons. The three elder ones were married
to daughters of three of the leading men of the province. The youngest son,
Saisho, was still unmarried. He had been away for some time in the gay smart
capital of Kyoto. But now he returned to his home.
Now every time he went to take his bath or called for hot
water, he saw the Bowl-Wearing maiden, and, as he had a kind and compassionate
heart, he could not but be touched by her unhappy appearance, and her modest
and gentle behavior and her quickness and diligence at her work.
Whenever he had an opportunity he spoke to the Bowl-Wearer,
and to his surprise he found that she was no servant, that she spoke in the
refined language of his class, and though so young she was well read in the
literature and poetry of her country and could answer a literary allusion
wittily and to the point. When at last she told him something of her sad story,
he knew, though she did not tell him, that she belonged to some family of high
rank. From this time on he often spoke to the girl, and he found that the
stolen conversations with her grew to be the chief pleasure of the day.
One day he managed to take a sly peep under the bowl. The
face, even though overshadowed by the huge cover, was of such rare beauty that
he fell madly in love with the Princess and made up his mind that none other
than the Bowl-Wearer should be his wife.
-Princess_Hachikazuki_and_Prince_Saisho_pledge_their_love |
His mother soon heard of Saisho's friendship for her husband's protege, and when she learned that he had promised to marry her she forbade him to think of such a thing. She at first thought that her son could not be in earnest, but when she sent for Saisho and asked him seriously if what she had been told was true, he answered: "I really and truly intend to make the Bowl-Wearer my wife!"
His mother was not a little angry at his determined front. How
could Saisho fall in love with a girl with a bowl on her head? Who ever heard
of such ridiculous nonsense?
Then she sent for her son's nurse, the woman who had nursed
him from the day he was born, and together they tried to deter him from his
purpose.
Saisho was obliged to listen to all they had to say, but did
not answer them. He could not say "Yes" to their demand that he
should give up all idea of marrying the Bowl-Wearer, and he knew that if he
firmly said "No" he would raise up such a storm of opposition that no
one could tell how it would end. He knew that the life of the Bowl-Wearer was a
truly pitiable one, and his determination to marry her and help her out of all
her difficulties remained unchanged. His mother soon saw that her son would by
no means listen to her persuasions, and her anger was great towards the
Bowl-Wearer. She almost made up her mind to drive her from the house before her
husband could know what happened.
Saisho, on hearing this, told her that if the girl was driven
away, he would go with her. The mother's distraction can be imagined, for she
was thwarted in every way. She at last said that the Bowl-Wearer was a wicked
witch who had thrown her spells over Saisho and would not leave him till she
had compassed his death.
She determined, if possible, to separate them by fair means or
foul. For a long time, she pondered over the matter, and at last hit upon a
stratagem which she trusted would rid the house of the presence of the
obnoxious girl. Her plan she called "The Comparison of the Brides."
She would hold in the house a family council of all the relations, and assemble
the wives of her three elder sons, and before the whole gathering compare them
with the Bowl-Wearer whom Saisho had elected to marry. If the Bowl-Wearer had
any self-respect she would be too conscious of her deformity and her poverty,
and too ashamed to make an appearance, —would leave the house to escape from
the ordeal. What an excellent plan! Why had she never thought of this before?
So, the mother sent messengers post-haste to all the family
and relations, requesting their presence at a "Bride Comparing
Ceremony" and a feast which would close the ceremony.
When Saisho heard of this he was greatly troubled, for he knew
what it meant. His mother meant to drive the girl he loved from the house by
comparing her with his brothers' rich and pretty wives. What was to be done?
How could he help the poor Bowl-Wearer?
The little Princess saw how unhappy he was, and blamed
herself, she was so sorry for him.
"It is all because of me that this trouble has come to
you. Instead of happiness I have only brought you worry. Woe is me! It is
better that I go away at once," said the girl.
Saisho told her at once that he would never let her go alone;
that if she went, he would go with her.
At last, the day fixed for the ceremony of the
"Comparison of the Brides" came round. Saisho and the unhappy little
Bowl-Wearer rose before the dawn and taking each other by the hand left the
house together.
Notwithstanding his love for the Bowl-Wearer and his resolve
to marry her at whatever cost, Saisho was very sad at the thought of leaving
his parents in this way. He told himself that they would never forgive his
obstinacy and probably would refuse to see him again, so this parting was
probably forever. He felt at each step as if his heart was torn backwards. With
slow steps he and the Bowl-Wearer, hand in hand, wended their way down the
garden. No sooner, however, did they put their feet outside the gate than the
bowl on the girl's head burst with a loud noise and fell in a thousand pieces
upon the ground.
What untold joy for both! Saisho, too astonished to speak,
looked for the first time full on the girl's face. The beauty of the damsel was
so dazzling that he could compare it only to the glory of the full moon as it
rides triumphantly above the clouds on the fifteenth night of September. Her
figure, too, now that the dwarfing bowl had gone, was more graceful than
anything he had ever seen. The young lovers, so happy for words at this
unexpected deliverance, could do nothing but gaze at each other.
The mother's purpose in covering her daughter's head with the
hideous bowl was at last made clear. Fearing that her daughter's beauty would
prove to be a peril to her, with no mother to watch over her, she had hidden it
thus, and the intensity of her wish had assumed supernatural power, so that all
attempts to remove it were useless till the moment came when it was no longer
needed; then it broke off its own accord.
At last, the lovers stooped to pick up the pieces of the bowl,
when to their amazement they found the ground strewn with treasures and all
that a bride could possibly need for her portion. There were many
gold kanzashi (ornamental pins for the hair), silver wine-cups, many
precious stones and gold coins, and a wedding-garment of twelve
folded kimono, and a hakama of brilliant scarlet brocade.
"Oh, surely," said the Princess, "these
treasures must be what my mother prepared for my marriage portion. Indeed, a
mother's tender love is above everything!"
She wept with mingled feelings of joy and pain, —pain of the
remembrance of her mother and joy at her present unlooked-for deliverance and
the certainty of future happiness.
Saisho told her that there was now no need for her to leave
the house. She was not only a richly dowered bride, but now that her face was
no longer hidden by the hideous bowl, so beautiful that even a king would be
proud to wed her. She needs no longer fear to be present at the coming ceremony
and feast. So, they both turned back, and hastened to prepare for the trial
which awaited the Bowl-Wearer, but Bowl-Wearer now no longer.
As soon as day broke, the house was full of movement, servants
hurrying to and for to usher in and wait upon the relations, who now began to
arrive. The murmur of their chattering was like the sound of breaking waves on
a distant shore, and the object of all this talk was nothing else than the poor
little Princess. The servants told everyone that she was in her room getting
ready for the approaching feast, and they all thought it strange that she had
not fled away for shame. Little did they dream of all that had happened to her!
At last, the hour of the "Bride Comparing Ceremony"
arrived. The family and the relations all took their places at the upper end of
the big guest-hall of thirty mats.
First entered the bride of the eldest son. She was only
twenty-two years of age, and as it was the season of autumn, she wore a
brightly coloured kimono and walked into the room in a stately fashion, with
her scarlet hakama trailing over the cream mats behind her. Her costume was
indeed beautiful to behold! To her parents-in-law she brought gifts of ten
rolls of rich silk and two suits of the ceremonial gown
called kosode (each kosode consisting of twelve
long kimonos folded one over the other), all of which she placed on a
fine lacquer tray to present them.
Next came the bride of the second son. She was twenty years of
age, and was of the aristocratic type of beauty, thin and slender, with a long
pale oval face. She wore a heavy silk robe, and over this a flowing gown of
gold brocade. Her hakama was embroidered profusely with crimson
plum-blossoms. She came into the room quietly, with a gentle bearing, and
offered as her gifts of presentation thirty suits of silk robes to her
husband's parents.
Then came the bride of the third son. She was only eighteen
years of age. Quite different from the first two proud beauties, she was very
pretty and dainty, and though small had more sweetness and charm in her manner
than her sisters. Her dress was of rich silk embroidered with cherry-blossoms.
She presented thirty pieces of rare and handsome crape to her parents-in-law.
The three sat side by side in their conscious pride and
prosperity, their beauty enhanced by the sheen and splendor of their silken
gowns. As the father and mother, uncles and aunts and relations, all gazed upon
them, no one could say who deserved the palm of superiority, for they were all
lovely.
At the lower end of the room, far away from every one else,
was placed a torn mat. It was the seat destined for the Bowl-Wearer.
"We have seen the three elder brides of the house, and
they are all so handsome and so beautifully robed that we are sure there are no
women to compare with them in the whole province," said the relations.
"Now it is the turn of the Bowl-Wearer, who aspires to marry the youngest
son of the house. When she comes in with that ridiculous bowl on her head, let
us greet her with a burst of laughter!"
The roomful of people eagerly waited for the Bowl-Wearer to
come, even as the birds sitting on the eaves of a house long for the morning.
The three brides were also curious to see the cripple girl of whom they had
heard so much. How dared such a creature aspire to become their sister? they
haughtily asked each other.
But the mother felt differently. She in no wise wished to see
the girl appear, for she had arranged this day's ceremony, hoping that the
Bowl-Wearer, knowing herself to be a deformed beggar-maid, would be too ashamed
to appear before such a grand company and would flee away rather than face the
trial. On asking the servants, however, she was told that she was still in the
house, and she wondered what the girl could be doing, and almost regretted what
she had done.
Lord Yamakage and his wife at last grew impatient and sent
word to the Bowl-Wearer that she was to hasten, as everyone was waiting for
her.
The servants went to the back of the house where the
Bowl-Wearer had her little room of three mats and gave her the message.
"I am coming now," she answered from within the
paper screens.
The Princess now came out and entered the room of the
"Bride Comparing Ceremony," where everyone was waiting for her. She
was only sixteen years of age, but so beautiful that she reminded them of the
weeping cherry-blossoms in the dew of a spring morning. Her hair was as black
as the sheen on a raven's wing, and her face was lovelier far than that of any
human being they had ever seen. Her under-robes were of rich white silk, and
her upper kimono was purple, embroidered with white and pink plum blossoms. As
the stars pale before the fuller glory of the moon, so the three elder brides
shrank into insignificance beside the dazzling beauty of this maiden.
To all it seemed as if one of the Amatsu
Otome (heavenly virgins) who wait upon the Goddess of Mercy had glided
into the room. They had expected to see a poverty-stricken girl with a large
bowl stuck upside down on the top of her head, and they were lost in
astonishment when they beheld the Princess in all the radiance of her
loveliness and the splendour of her rich clothes.
The Princess was about to sit down in the seat left for her,
but Lord Yamakage made a place for her beside his wife, saying that he could
not allow her to sit in such a lowly spot. She now presented to her
father-in-law a silver wine-cup on a gold pedestal, with one
hundred rye (old yen in gold), and thirty rolls of silk
which she brought in on a beautiful tray. To his wife she presented the rarest
and most delectable fruit of ancient Japan, Konan oranges and Kempo pears, and
one hundred pieces of coloured cloth which she put upon a gold stand.
In her surpassing beauty, in the grace of her carriage, in the
richness of her costume, in the sumptuousness of the gifts to her parents, she
left the other brides far and away behind. Speechless with wonder and
admiration, every one present could not but gaze at her. Before the Bowl-Wearer
had appeared, the three elder brides had seemed beautiful enough, but now the
difference was as marked as when a sparkling jewel is placed side by side with
a crystal; and as the crystal suffers from the comparison, so did they.
Saisho's elder brothers were looking between the cracks of the
sliding screens, and they were filled with envy at Saisho and his good fortune
in becoming the husband of such a beautiful princess, for such they now felt
she must be. Not even her rivals could deny that she was bewilderingly fair to
look upon; but they whispered among themselves that unless she were skilled in
all womanly accomplishments, for all her beauty she would be no better than a
common man's daughter. She must play on the koto at once. No one
could perform on that instrument without years of instruction. If they waited
till the next day, who knows, she was so clever that she might get Saisho to
teach her. So, the jealous brides proposed aloud that they should all play a
quartets; the eldest would play the biwa (lute), the second
the sho (flute), the third the tsuzumi (a kind of a small
drum beaten with the hand), and they asked the Bowl-Wearer to join them and
play the koto (harp).
The Princess, who was very modest, at first refused; but on
second thoughts, she said to herself: "They ask me to do this because they
wish to try me, thinking me to be ignorant of such accomplishments. Well, then,
I will play, for my mother taught me." She pulled the koto near
her, and slipping the ivory tips on her fingers began to stroke chords. The
astonishment of everyone was great, for she played with great skill.
Saisho, who had hidden himself in the room behind a lacquer
cabinet and was watching with the utmost eagerness all that went on, could
hardly keep in his hiding-place, he was so delighted.
The three brides, who were quite put out of countenance, for
their performance could in no wise be compared to that of the little Princess,
now proposed that she should write a poem.
"Write a poem, a tanka [a poem of thirty-one
syllables], which shall describe the character of each season, such as the
blooming of the peach and the cherry-blossom in the spring, the orange and
wistaria in summer, and the beauty of the chrysanthemum in autumn."
"Oh," said the Bowl-Wearer, "this is indeed a
task too difficult for me. Is there nothing else you will give me to do instead
of this? I can take care of the bathroom, and pull up water from the well, and
heat the bath. Since this is my daily occupation, how is it possible that I
should even know how to write a poem, much less compose one?" She blushed
as she spoke.
But her rivals insisted, and so at last she took up a poem
card and a brush and wrote: —
Haru wa hana,
Natsu wa tachibana,
Aki wa kiku,
Izure to wakete,
Tsuyu ya okuran.
The cherry-blossom of spring,
The orange-flower of summer,
The autumn chrysanthemum,
Perplexed between them all,
Alike on each the dew may fall.
She showed not the least hesitation in writing these lines,
and her handwriting was so beautiful that even the famous Tofu (Tofu. A lady
famous for her beautiful handwriting ) and her brush could not have surpassed
it. The three brides retired from the room, grumbling and speaking evil of the
Bowl-Wearer.
"She must be a witch," they said. "Probably the
spirit of the ancient Tamamono Maye!"
Lord Yamakage, now quite pleased with her, handed her a cup
of saké. He gave his full consent to her marrying his son Saisho and
bestowed upon them as a settlement twenty-three hundred cho of land,
together with twenty-four servants to wait upon them, and for their bridal
chamber he allotted them the Hall of Bamboos.
So Saisho and the Bowl-Wearer were at last married, and all
their troubles ended. Never was there such a merry wedding, such a lovely
bride, or such a happy bridegroom. The days flew into weeks, the weeks flew
into months, for the flight of time is unnoticed when one is happy.
Saisho and the Bowl-werer were at last married |
At last, one day Saisho said to his wife: "I cannot believe you to be the daughter of a common man. Will you not tell me who your father is? I should like to know. Whatever wrong you have suffered, why hide your parentage any longer?"
The Princess knew that if she told her husband the truth, the
name of her cruel stepmother would have to be mentioned, and it would be most
unfilial to speak of the woman's cruelty, for she was her father's wife, so she
decided not to tell Saisho to what family she belonged. She made some excuse,
saying that he should know all in good time, and begged him to wait a little
longer.
When they had been happily married for a year, she gave birth
to a son. The bliss of the faithful young couple now seemed complete. Yet with
her ever-growing happiness her thoughts turned more and more to her father.
What had happened to him in these past years? How she longed to show him her
little son! She said to herself that if this were granted, she would be the
happiest woman in the whole world.
Now let us turn back and see what happened to Lord Minetaka
and his wicked wife. As time went on, her vicious disposition only became
worse. At last, it became so unbearable that all the servants took their leave.
There was now no one left to care for her child or the house, and the fortunes
of the family gradually declined. Lord Minetaka became poorer and poorer. Where
once in the days of the first wife there had been sweet peace and harmony,
discord now reigned in the house.
Lord Minetaka grew weary of his life. He decided to leave his
home and set out on a pilgrimage. He started at last to wander on foot from
province to province and from temple to temple, learning from the priests all
he could of Buddhist lore. He had plenty of time for reflection; and no longer
harassed by a scolding wife, he began to ponder over his past life. No words
can tell how much he regretted having listened to her slanderous stories about
his little daughter; and when he thought of how he had allowed her to be driven
from her home, like an outcast or a beggar, his nights were sleepless.
He asked himself every day what could have happened to her all
this time. He would search for her through the length and the breadth of the
land, and if she were still alive, he told himself that he would surely meet
with her again. In every temple he came to he prayed that he might find her,
wheresoever she might be. On and on he wandered over the country, stopping for
the night at the different villages he came to on his way.
At last, he reached the famous Kwannon of the Hatsuse Temple,
of the Yamato Province. Kwannon, the Goddess of Mercy, grants to mortals
whatever they need the most, the greatest desire of their hearts. Here Minetaka
ardently prayed for his lost daughter, prayed that she might be preserved from
all ill, and that Kwannon would mercifully grant them a speedy meeting.
Saisho and his wife were devoted to this very temple, and
often used to visit it to offer thanksgiving for their mutual happiness, and to
pray for their children. Now this day, as was their wont, they had come with
their three little sons and some of their retainers. The little boys were
beautifully dressed in silk and crape, and the whole party had the appearance
of a nobleman and his retinue.
The retainers went up the temple steps first to clear the way
and found a pilgrim before the temple shrine lost in earnest prayer.
"Oh, pilgrim!" they cried, "out of the way! Our
lord comes to worship, make way instantly!"
The man, hearing himself spoken to in this way, got up and
looked at the approaching party, moving aside at the same time to let them
pass. He was travel-stained and worn out with fatigue, and it was easy to see
that he was broken down by some sorrow. As the little boys passed him, he
looked at them eagerly, and as he did so the tears fell from his eyes. One of
the retainers, who thought his behaviour strange, asked the pilgrim why he
wept.
"Those children," answered Lord Minetaka, for it was
he, "remind me so much of my daughter, for whom I am searching, that when
I looked at their faces the tears fell in spite of myself;" and he told
the man all that had happened, glad for once to find a sympathetic listener on
his lonely wanderings.
When the Princess heard the story, she told the retainers to
bring the pilgrim to her. As soon as they led him to her a glance was enough
for her to recognize that, aged and emaciated as he was, the pilgrim was none
other than her father.
"I am the Bowl-Wearer!" she exclaimed quickly,
catching hold of her father's sleeve and bursting into tears, overcome with joy
and filial affection at this unexpected meeting.
Saisho congratulated his wife and her father on their happy
reunion, and after many bows and salutations on both sides, he said: "I
felt sure that my wife was of noble birth, though she always remained silent
when I questioned her as to her parentage. Now I understand it all. So, after
all, she is the daughter of Lord Minetaka of Katano."
He then insisted that his father-in-law should give up his
wanderings and make his home with them for the rest of his days.
So, Lord Minetaka at last found his good daughter married to
one of his own ranks, and so happy that even in dreams he could have wished for
nothing better for her. What a joyous homecoming it was that day for the
Bowl-Wearer, as she led her father back with her and presented her three little
sons to him, and showed him her beautiful home, and told him how good and
faithful her husband had been to her while she was only the unhappy and
despised Bowl-Wearer!
They all felt that their cup of happiness was full, and lived
together more harmoniously than ever, and in their mutual joy all past sorrow
was forgotten.
Such is the story of the Bowl-Wearing Princess, which is told
from grandmother to mother and from mother to daughter in all households in
Japan.