THE DRAGON'S PEARL (REVISED)

 THE DRAGON'S PEARL 

 

Once upon a time in Shu province a widowed woman and her only son lived in a thatched hut by the banks of the Min River. Now they were very poor and since the mother was old and ailing the young boy from an early age was burdened with the responsibility of providing for them both. As he loved his mother very much, he worked very hard from dawn to dusk trying his best to obtain a reasonable livelihood by cutting and selling grass. Many a night he stayed awake worrying that this may not be enough to sustain them; should an unforeseen calamity strike, it would surely mean certain ruin.

Then came a time when his worse fears were realized. That summer a severe drought depleted their already scant reserves, and he was forced to venture farther inland each morning in search of better grass. Even this expanded effort had proved fruitless as what he harvested was not even worth taking to market. Unrelenting, he ventured ever higher into the mountain, following paths never before trod by human feet. Once more he’d scavenged most of the morning and afternoon and being disappointed, with stooped shoulders he resolved to head home when suddenly, over a small rise, he spotted a meadow of verdant grass. In disbelief he rubbed his eyes and looked on anew. It still was there. With bated breath he ran towards it. True enough, the thick luxuriant grass, flourishing on a fertile earth was ripe for the picking. Halting for a spell he breathed in the fragrance of this lush green treasure. Oh, how gently they swayed, combed by the gentle breeze.

“What am I waiting for?” He quickly put an end to his daydream and a moment later began cutting and bundling the grass. He worked well into the afternoon, and it was only when the rays of the sun began to dim that he reluctantly shouldered his heavy burden and made his journey home. Not before making a mental note of the topography of the exact location however, so as to claim the remainder on the morrow.

 In the drought stricken land the proceeds from the sale of the lush grass were far more than the weekly pay and that evening mother and son were able to indulge for the first time ever in a more bountiful feast that included fish, poultry and varied vegetables alongside a superior brand of rice.

 The subsequent day the boy retraced his steps joyfully expecting to find the remainder of the patch. However, to his great amazement, the meadow was once more fully overgrown with verdant grass. He did not stop to wonder why but set to work at once with boundless energy and enthusiasm and this time harvested the entire field. As he loaded up the last of his bundle and headed home, he consoled himself by resolving to scour the area more carefully on next occasion. There had to be a comparable field waiting to be found somewhere adjacent to this one.

 You can imagine his delight the next day in finding the same patch re-grown so fully and perfectly he could swear it had never been touched at all. “The field is enchanted; there is no need to look elsewhere!”

Once more he set to work, this time fearlessly harvesting all the grass once more and returning home with his heavy burden. This he repeated day after day as their circumstances became more comfortable, then luxuriant and secure. They now lived happily. However, there was only one hitch; the long, arduous, sometimes hazardous, trek had begun to wear the boy down. Consulting with his mother on this matter the alternative suddenly presented itself. If the patch was enchanted it could perhaps deliver the same abundance if it was planted elsewhere, preferably at closer proximity.

 With this in mind, he made the journey the following morning, and instead of harvesting it he dug up each segment of the turf, roots, soil and all and tied them into rolls. Midway through this toil he spotted a most magnificent, luminescent pearl resting in a tangle of root and soil as he rolled up the clod of turf. “Hah, what a pretty find. Mom will like this. ” He stopped long enough to put it in his pocket then continued on with his work, not giving it another thought.

Wrestling this heavier burden down the mountain he replanted it at closer proximity to his home. And it wasn’t until all the patches were laid down next to their cabin that he realized his fatigue and hunger. He quickly got washed up and entered the home to sit at the table already laden with food and satiate his hunger. Stomach quickly filled he leaned back for a reprieve before they cleared the dishes. Then his hand, roaming in his pocket, happened to touch the pearl. Elatedly he presented it at once to his mother. Even with her failing sight she could tell its brilliance and value, especially when it lit up the dim room with a warm glow. Fearing losing it, his mother decided to store it in the unused old rice jar that she kept as a memento from the lean years. It still contained those few grains of rice they had left before their stroke of luck, just enough of them to cover the pearl.

Following day at the crack of dawn the boy jumped out of bed and wolfed down some bread and cheese then, careful not to wake his sleeping mom, dashed outside to begin his harvest. What greeted him however, wrenched his heart. There was no lush grass, just a dried withered bald patch with a few dried brown stalks poking up from the dust. “I’ve ruined everything.” His eyes brimming with tears he turned towards the house to relay this terrible news to his mom. Just then a scream from the house hastened his steps.

“What is it mama?” He shouted the moment he entered the premise.

“Look,” She pointed at the old rice container, “See it for yourself.”

Indeed, the moment he lifted the lid, a miracle that greeted his eyes: the old rice container was full of fresh white, fragrant rice and, on top, the large pearl glowed warmly.

 

Mother and son exchanged a knowing look. Later when the son told his mom of his failure with the patch, it became crystal clear that the pearl was the true source of magic. In order to be absolutely sure however, they now placed the pearl in the money box that contained only few coins, then carefully hid it under the bed.

The following morning, even before breakfasting the son was asked to retrieve it, as it was too heavy and cumbersome for her to fetch. True enough, it did feel heavier. It came as no surprise to both when, after the lid was lifted, the bounty of cash was discovered, the pearl perched on top.

 This being proof positive they knew how to proceed from then on. They used the magic pearl sparingly and wisely, reciprocating the kindness of neighbours that had once aided them in their time of need. Knowing what it is like to be poor their unstinting kindness extended to those others, even strangers that happened to be caught in dire straits. Despite all the goodwill, the mother and son’s apparent improved fortunes, in time drew unwarranted attention, curiosity and some envy from their neighbours in their small village.

The secret could no longer be contained. Through coercion and trickery, the source of their wealth was eventually discovered. The word spread like wildfire and soon after a mob of villagers, some friendly, a few not so friendly, gathered by the house demanding in a loud uproar to see this phantom pearl for themselves. Goaded to prove that the reasons for their recent prosperity did not involve thievery, the boy foolishly fetched the pearl then held it up for all to see. The glow at first mesmerized all the onlookers but, far from being assuaged, the crowd grew restless and resentful.

Why should they be the sole possessors of such a gift from the Heavens? Everyone wanted a turn at possessing it. Each coveted it; and some demanded immediate ownership of the pearl for more righteous, personal reasons. Tempers flared and faces became distorted with loathing, greed and revulsion. The tumult grew increasingly uglier and the situation more volatile.

Fearing the impending assault on himself, on his mother, or the theft of the pearl, the boy impetuously popped the pearl into his mouth to keep it safe. In that pandemonium, however, the boy was shoved to and for and, giving in to reflex, the pearl dropped through his oesophagus. All at once he was overwhelmed with the sensation of being scorched from inside the stomach; an unbearable, searing fire consumed his innards.

“Water! Water!” Screaming, he dashed to the well at the side of the house and, as fast as he could haul the buckets out, consuming the water until the well ran dry. Still burning up, he ran in a frenzy to throw his body down to the bank to the river and began to lap it up. He drank and drank, but nothing could assuage the all-consuming sensation of burning. The stunned villagers watched in horrified amazement as the once mighty river Min was diminished to a trickle, then that too disappeared. As the last drop flowed down the boy’s throat, a huge crack of thunder tore up the sky. The Earth trembled as countless forks of lightning flashed across the sky heralding the eruption of a violent storm and a deluge of rain that threatened to drown them all.

 “Now you’ve done it! Heaven is angered. Flee, flee for your lives!” The shouts scattered most of the crowds. Others, with wobbling legs, fell on their knees and covered their heads and faces in terror. Amidst curses and lamentations, they bewailed their ill fate in wavering voices.

Meanwhile the boy had begun to tremble uncontrollably as he grew and grew. His desperate mother, forgetting her own terror, hung on to his legs with all her strength, but he was beyond help. Horns sprouted on his forehead and his eyes grew wider and larger their red glow emitting tendrils of fire. His skin was also altered gradually but surely into scales. Now at mammoth size, his dismayed mother watched in sad resignation, as her beloved son transformed into a Dragon. Too late she remembered the legend of every water dragon possessing a treasured magic pearl, and only then grasped that the pearl had originally belonged to the dragon guarding this river.

The deluge meanwhile had filled the river once more and her darling boy, now a dragon, started to glide towards it. With courage only a mother has she clung onto his scaly foot but, with a gentle pull, he freed himself. He slithered towards the torrent as his very motion threw up mud-banks along the sides of the river. Love is a powerful bond and so, each time that she cried out to him, the dragon did turn his mammoth body to briefly gaze her. After an angst-ridden roar however, he slid beneath the torrent of the river Min. 

To this day the mud banks on the river Min are referred to as the “Looking Back at Mother” banks, in memory of the boy who’d swallowed the pearl and transformed into a mighty River Dragon. True to the boy’s generous nature, the Dragon of the River fed and nourished the crops of the villages along his banks from that day on, and there has never again been such a taxing drought in that province.

The End

 THE THREE EVILS (REVISED)

(A Chinese Folktale re-written by BoSt)

 Once upon a time, there lived an eccentric young man by the name of Dschou Tschu. He wore a high hat on his head adorned with two pheasants’ wings; his garments were woven of embroidered silk, and at his side hung the Dragon-spring sword.  He had a wild and mischievous nature which became far worse when he was inebriated. He always intruded into other's business and any ongoing disputes; meanwhile, wherever he went his pranks and tomfoolery, as well, his inclination to forcefully take that which belonged to others, beget or fostered quarrels and brawls. He was hence, furtively detested throughout the neighborhood and whoever offended him had good reason to dread the ensued terrible consequences. As he was blessed with an extraordinary super-human strength however, the law enforcement officers and the village elders dared not rebuke (reprimand, admonish) or punish him seriously. And so, he’d persisted with his unruly ways for many a year.

Eventually a new Official was posted to that district; before the new magistrate formally took up office however, surreptitiously (covertly and under disguise) he first went about the countryside and listened to the citizen’s complaints. They in unison told him that there were three great evils in that district.

The magistrate still under disguise, decided to in person call on Dschou Tschu.

Late that night when most decent folks were fast asleep, the inebriated Dschou Tschu returned from the tavern, along the way slapping his sword and singing in a loud voice.

When he reached his house he noted the man with his head down seated by the door and asked: “Who are you; why are you weeping here so pitifully?”

The magistrate raised his head and glaring at Dschou, replied: “I am weeping because of the people’s distress.”

Dschou Tschu grimaced then threw his head back and guffawed.

“You are mistaken, my friend,” said he. “Revolt is seething round about us like boiling water in a kettle. But here, in our little corner of the land, all is quiet and peaceful. The harvest has been abundant, corn is plentiful, and all go happily about their work. When you talk to me about distress I have to think of the man who groans without being sick. And who are you, tell me that, which instead of grieving for yourself, are grieving for others? And what are you doing loitering at my door in this ungodly hour?”

“I am the new Magistrate,” replied the other. “Since I left my litter I have been looking about in the neighborhood. I find the people are honest and simple in their way of life, and everyone has sufficient to wear and to eat. This is all just as you state. Yet, strange to say, when the elders come together, they always sigh and complain. And if they are asked why, they answer: ‘There are three great evils in our district!’ I have come to ask you to do away with two of them, as to the third… perhaps I had better remain silent. And this is the reason I weep before your door.”

“Well, what are these evils?” enquired Dschou Tschu. “Speak freely, and tell me openly all that you know!”

“The first evil,” said the Magistrate “is the evil dragon at the long bridge, which causes the water to rise so that man and beast are drowned in the river.

The second evil is the voracious, predatory tiger with the white forehead, which dwells in the hills.

And the third evil, Dschou Tschu—is you!”

The crimson hue, the blush of shame swiftly infused the young man’s cheeks, and he bowed and said: “You have come here from afar to be the Magistrate of this district, and yet you feel such sympathy for the people? I was born in this place and yet I have only made our elders grieve. What sort of a creature must I be? I beg that you return to your residence; fear not, I will see to it that matters improve!”

Dschou Tschu at once took off and ran all the way without stopping till he reached the hills. There he hunted the tiger out of his cave. The latter leaped into the air so that the whole forest was shaken as though by a storm. Next he came rushing up, roaring, and stretching out his claws savagely to seize his pray. Dschou nimbly stepped back a pace, and the tiger landed on the ground directly in front of him. Then he thrust the tiger’s neck to the ground with his left hand, and beat him without stopping with his right, until he lay dead on the earth. Dschou loaded the tiger on his back and went straight home.

Dschou Tschu subsequently went to the long bridge. He undressed, took his sword in his hand, and thus dived into the icy water. No sooner had he disappeared, than there was a boiling and hissing, and the waves began to foam and billow. It sounded like the mad beating of thousands of hoofs. After a time a stream of blood shot up from the depths, and the water of the river turned red. Eventually triumphant Dschou, holding the dragon’s decapitated head in his hand, rose out of the waves.

He went to the Magistrate and reported, with a bow: “I have cut off the Dragon’s head and have also done away with the Tiger. Thus I have happily accomplished your two commands. And now I shall wander away so that you may be rid of the third evil as well. My Lord, please keep watch over my countrymen and, relay to the elders that they need sorrow no more!”

When he had said this he enlisted as a soldier. In combat against the robbers he gained a great reputation and once, when the latter were pressing him hard, and he saw that he could not save himself, he bowed to the East and said: “The day has come at last when I can atone for my sin with my life!” Then he offered his neck to the sword and died.

Fin

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.