Japanese Fairy Tales
morning till night. Three hundred years went by in this monotonous way,
and then at last he began to grow tired of life in this country, and he
longed to see his own land and his old home. However long he lived
here, life would always be the same, so was it not foolish and
wearisome to stay on here forever?
Sentaro, in his wish to escape from the country of Perpetual Life,
recollected Jofuku, who had helped him before when he was wishing to
escape from death—and he prayed to the saint to bring him back to his
own land again.
No sooner did he pray than the paper crane popped out of his pocket.
Sentaro was amazed to see that it had remained undamaged after all
these years. Once more the bird grew and grew till it was large enough
for him to mount it. As he did so, the bird spread its wings and flew,
swiftly out across the sea in the direction of Japan.
Such was the willfulness of the man’s nature that he looked back and
regretted all he had left behind. He tried to stop the bird in vain.
The crane held on its way for thousands of miles across the ocean.
Then a storm came on, and the wonderful paper crane got damp, crumpled
up, and fell into the sea. Sentaro fell with it. Very much frightened
at the thought of being drowned, he cried out loudly to Jofuku to save
him. He looked round, but there was no ship in sight. He swallowed a
quantity of sea-water, which only increased his miserable plight. While
he was thus struggling to keep himself afloat, he saw a monstrous shark
swimming towards him. As it came nearer it opened its huge mouth ready
to devour him. Sentaro was all but paralyzed with fear now that he felt
his end so near, and screamed out as loudly as ever he could to Jofuku
to come and rescue him.
Lo, and behold, Sentaro was awakened by his own screams, to find that
during his long prayer he had fallen asleep before the shrine, and that
all his extraordinary and frightful adventures had been only a wild
dream. He was in a cold perspiration with fright, and utterly
bewildered.
Suddenly a bright light came towards him, and in the light stood a
messenger. The messenger held a book in his hand, and spoke to Sentaro:
“I am sent to you by Jofuku, who in answer to your prayer, has
permitted you in a dream to see the land of Perpetual Life. But you
grew weary of living there, and begged to be allowed to return to your
native land so that you might die. Jofuku, so that he might try you,
allowed you to drop into the sea, and then sent a shark to swallow you
up. Your desire for death was not real, for even at that moment you
cried out loudly and shouted for help.”
“It is also vain for you to wish to become a hermit, or to find the
Elixir of Life. These things are not for such as you—your life is not
austere enough. It is best for you to go back to your paternal home,
and to live a good and industrious life. Never neglect to keep the
anniversaries of your ancestors, and make it your duty to provide for
your children’s future. Thus will you live to a good old age and be
happy, but give up the vain desire to escape death, for no man can do
that, and by this time you have surely found out that even when selfish
desires are granted they do not bring happiness.”
“In this book I give you there are many precepts good for you to
know—if you study them, you will be guided in the way I have pointed
out to you.”
The angel disappeared as soon as he had finished speaking, and Sentaro
took the lesson to heart. With the book in his hand he returned to his
old home, and giving up all his old vain wishes, tried to live a good
and useful life and to observe the lessons taught him in the book, and
he and his house prospered henceforth.
THE BAMBOO-CUTTER AND THE MOON-CHILD
Long, long ago, there lived an old bamboo wood-cutter. He was very poor
and sad also, for no child had Heaven sent to cheer his old age, and in
his heart there was no hope of rest from work till he died and was laid
in the quiet grave. Every morning he went forth into the woods and
hills wherever the bamboo reared its lithe green plumes against the
sky. When he had made his choice, he would cut down these feathers of
the forest, and splitting them lengthwise, or cutting them into joints,
would carry the bamboo wood home and make it into various articles for
the household, and he and his old wife gained a small livelihood by
selling them.
One morning as usual he had gone out to his work, and having found a
nice clump of bamboos, had set to work to cut some of them down.
Suddenly the green grove of bamboos was flooded with a bright soft
light, as if the full moon had risen over the spot. Looking round in
astonishment, he saw that the brilliance was streaming from one bamboo.
The old man, full of wonder, dropped his ax and went towards the light.
On nearer approach he saw that this soft splendor came from a hollow in
the green bamboo stem, and still more wonderful to behold, in the midst
of the brilliance stood a tiny human being, only three inches in
height, and exquisitely beautiful in appearance.
“You must be sent to be my child, for I find you here among the bamboos
where lies my daily work,” said the old man, and taking the little
creature in his hand he took it home to his wife to bring up. The tiny
girl was so exceedingly beautiful and so small, that the old woman put
her into a basket to safeguard her from the least possibility of being
hurt in any way.
The old couple were now very happy, for it had been a lifelong regret
that they had no children of their own, and with joy they now expended
all the love of their old age on the little child who had come to them
in so marvelous a manner.
From this time on, the old man often found gold in the notches of the
bamboos when he hewed them down and cut them up; not only gold, but
precious stones also, so that by degrees he became rich. He built
himself a fine house, and was no longer known as the poor bamboo
woodcutter, but as a wealthy man.
Three months passed quickly away, and in that time the bamboo child
had, wonderful to say, become a full-grown girl, so her foster-parents
did up her hair and dressed her in beautiful kimonos. She was of such
wondrous beauty that they placed her behind the screens like a
princess, and allowed no one to see her, waiting upon her themselves.
It seemed as if she were made of light, for the house was filled with a
soft shining, so that even in the dark of night it was like daytime.
Her presence seemed to have a benign influence on those there. Whenever
the old man felt sad, he had only to look upon his foster-daughter and
his sorrow vanished, and he became as happy as when he was a youth.
At last the day came for the naming of their new-found child, so the
old couple called in a celebrated name-giver, and he gave her the name
of Princess Moonlight, because her body gave forth so much soft bright
light that she might have been a daughter of the Moon God.
For three days the festival was kept up with song and dance and music.
All the friends and relations of the old couple were present, and great
was their enjoyment of the festivities held to celebrate the naming of
Princess Moonlight. Everyone who saw her declared that there never had
been seen any one so lovely; all the beauties throughout the length and
breadth of the land would grow pale beside her, so they said. The fame
of the Princess’s loveliness spread far and wide, and many were the
suitors who desired to win her hand, or even so much as to see her.
Suitors from far and near posted themselves outside the house, and made
little holes in the fence, in the hope of catching a glimpse of the
Princess as she went from one room to the other along the veranda. They
stayed there day and night, sacrificing even their sleep for a chance
of seeing her, but all in vain. Then they approached the house, and
tried to speak to the old man and his wife or some of the servants, but
not even this was granted them.
Still, in spite of all this disappointment they stayed on day after
day, and night after night, and counted it as nothing, so great was
their desire to see the Princess.
At last, however, most of the men, seeing how hopeless their quest was,
lost heart and hope both, and returned to their homes. All except five
Knights, whose ardor and determination, instead of waning, seemed to
wax greater with obstacles. These five men even went without their
meals, and took snatches of whatever they could get brought to them, so
that they might always stand outside the dwelling. They stood there in
all weathers, in sunshine and in rain.
Sometimes they wrote letters to the Princess, but no answer was
vouchsafed to them. Then when letters failed to draw any reply, they
wrote poems to her telling her of the hopeless love which kept them
from sleep, from food, from rest, and even from their homes. Still
Princes Moonlight gave no sign of having received their verses.
In this hopeless state the winter passed. The snow and frost and the
cold winds gradually gave place to the gentle warmth of spring. Then
the summer came, and the sun burned white and scorching in the heavens
above and on the earth beneath, and still these faithful Knights kept
watch and waited. At the end of these long months they called out to
the old bamboo-cutter and entreated him to have some mercy upon them
and to show them the Princess, but he answered only that as he was not
her real father he could not insist on her obeying him against her
wishes.
The five Knights on receiving this stern answer returned to their
several homes, and pondered over the best means of touching the proud
Princess’s heart, even so much as to grant them a hearing. They took
their rosaries in hand and knelt before their household shrines, and
burned precious incense, praying to Buddha to give them their heart’s
desire. Thus several days passed, but even so they could not rest in
their homes.
So again they set out for the bamboo-cutter’s house. This time the old
man came out to see them, and they asked him to let them know if it was
the Princess’s resolution never to see any man whatsoever, and they
implored him to speak for them and to tell her the greatness of their
love, and how long they had waited through the cold of winter and the
heat of summer, sleepless and roofless through all weathers, without
food and without rest, in the ardent hope of winning her, and they were
willing to consider this long vigil as pleasure if she would but give
them one chance of pleading their cause with her.
The old man lent a willing ear to their tale of love, for in his inmost
heart he felt sorry for these faithful suitors and would have liked to
see his lovely foster-daughter married to one of them. So he went in to
Princess Moonlight and said reverently:
“Although you have always seemed to me to be a heavenly being, yet I
have had the trouble of bringing you up as my own child and you have
been glad of the protection of my roof. Will you refuse to do as I
wish?”
Then Princess Moonlight replied that there was nothing she would not do
for him, that she honored and loved him as her own father, and that as
for herself she could not remember the time before she came to earth.
The old man listened with great joy as she spoke these dutiful words.
Then he told her how anxious he was to see her safely and happily
married before he died.
“I am an old man, over seventy years of age, and my end may come any
time now. It is necessary and right that you should see these five
suitors and choose one of them.”
“Oh, why,” said the Princess in distress, “must I do this? I have no
wish to marry now.”
“I found you,” answered the old man, “many years ago, when you were a
little creature three inches high, in the midst of a great white light.