All about Oba you may see many sekirei or wagtails-birds sacred to
Izanami and Izanagi—for a legend says that from the sekirei the gods
first learned the art of love. And none, not even the most avaricious
farmer, ever hurts or terrifies these birds. So that they do not fear
the people of Oba, nor the scarecrows in the fields.
The God of Scarecrows is Sukuna-biko-na-no-Kami.
The path to Sakusa, for the last mile of the journey, at least, is
extremely narrow, and has been paved by piety with large flat rocks laid
upon the soil at intervals of about a foot, like an interminable line of
stepping-stones. You cannot walk between them nor beside them, and you
soon tire of walking upon them; but they have the merit of indicating
the way, a matter of no small importance where fifty rice-field paths
branch off from your own at all bewildering angles. After having been
safely guided by these stepping-stones through all kinds of labyrinths
in rice valleys and bamboo groves, one feels grateful to the peasantry
for that clue-line of rocks. There are some quaint little shrines in the
groves along this path—shrines with curious carvings of dragons and of
lion-heads and flowing water—all wrought ages ago in good keyaki-wood,
[90]
which has become the colour of stone. But the eyes of the dragons
and the lions have been stolen because they were made of fine crystal-
quartz, and there was none to guard them, and because neither the laws
nor the gods are quite so much feared now as they were before the period
of Meiji.
Sakusa is a very small cluster of farmers' cottages before a temple at
the verge of a wood—the temple of Yaegaki. The stepping-stones of the
path vanish into the pavement of the court, just before its lofty
unpainted wooden torii Between the torii and the inner court, entered by
a Chinese gate, some grand old trees are growing, and there are queer
monuments to see. On either side of the great gateway is a shrine
compartment, inclosed by heavy wooden gratings on two sides; and in
these compartments are two grim figures in complete armour, with bows in
their hands and quivers of arrows upon their backs,-.-the Zuijin, or
ghostly retainers of the gods, and guardians of the gate. Before nearly
all the Shinto temples of Izumo, except Kitzuki, these Zuijin keep grim
watch. They are probably of Buddhist origin; but they have acquired a
Shinto history and Shinto names.
[91]
Originally, I am told, there was
but one Zuijin-Kami, whose name was Toyo-kushi-iwa-mato-no-mikoto. But
at a certain period both the god and his name were cut in two—perhaps
for decorative purposes. And now he who sits upon the left is called
Toyo-iwa-ma-to-no-mikoto; and his companion on the right, Kushi-iwa-ma-
to-no-mikoto.
Before the gate, on the left side, there is a stone monument upon which
is graven, in Chinese characters, a poem in Hokku, or verse of seventeen
syllables, composed by Cho-un:
Ko-ka-ra-shi-ya
Ka-mi-no-mi-yu-ki-no
Ya-ma-no-a-to.
My companion translates the characters thus:—'Where high heap the dead
leaves, there is the holy place upon the hills, where dwell the gods.'
Near by are stone lanterns and stone lions, and another monument—a
great five-cornered slab set up and chiselled—bearing the names in
Chinese characters of the Ji-jin, or Earth-Gods—the Deities who
protect the soil: Uga-no-mitama-no-mikoto (whose name signifies the
August Spirit-of-Food), Ama-terasu-oho-mi-Kami, Ona-muji-no-Kami, Kaki-
yasu-hime-no-Kami, Sukuna-hiko-na-no-Kami (who is the Scarecrow God).
And the figure of a fox in stone sits before the Name of the August
Spirit-of-Food.
The miya or Shinto temple itself is quite small—smaller than most of
the temples in the neighbourhood, and dingy, and begrimed with age. Yet,
next to Kitzuki, this is the most famous of Izumo shrines. The main
shrine, dedicated to Susano-o and Inada-hime and their son, whose name
is the name of the hamlet of Sakusa, is flanked by various lesser
shrines to left and right. In one of these smaller miya the spirit of
Ashi-nadzu-chi, father of Inada-hime, is supposed to dwell; and in
another that of Te-nadzu-chi, the mother of Inada-hime. There is also a
small shrine of the Goddess of the Sun. But these shrines have no
curious features. The main temple offers, on the other hand, some
displays of rarest interest.
To the grey weather-worn gratings of the doors of the shrine hundreds
and hundreds of strips of soft white paper have been tied in knots:
there is nothing written upon them, although each represents a heart's
wish and a fervent prayer. No prayers, indeed, are so fervent as those
of love. Also there are suspended many little sections of bamboo, cut
just below joints so as to form water receptacles: these are tied
together in pairs with a small straw cord which also serves to hang them
up. They contain offerings of sea-water carried here from no small
distance. And mingling with the white confusion of knotted papers there
dangle from the gratings many tresses of girls' hair—love-sacrifices
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—and numerous offerings of seaweed, so filamentary and so sun-
blackened that at some little distance it would not be easy to
distinguish them from long shorn tresses. And all the woodwork of the
doors and the gratings, both beneath and between the offerings, is
covered with a speckling of characters graven or written, which are
names of pilgrims.
And my companion reads aloud the well-remembered name of—AKIRA!
If one dare judge the efficacy of prayer to these kind gods of Shinto
from the testimony of their worshippers, I should certainly say that
Akira has good reason to hope. Planted in the soil, all round the edge
of the foundations of the shrine, are multitudes of tiny paper flags of
curious shape (nobori), pasted upon splinters of bamboo. Each of these
little white things is a banner of victory, and a lover's witness of
gratitude.
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You will find such little flags stuck into the ground
about nearly all the great Shinto temples of Izumo. At Kitzuki they
cannot even be counted—any more than the flakes of a snowstorm.
And here is something else that you will find at most of the famous miya
in Izumo—a box of little bamboo sticks, fastened to a post before the
doors. If you were to count the sticks, you would find their number to
be exactly one thousand. They are counters for pilgrims who make a vow
to the gods to perform a sendo-mairi. To perform a sendo-mairi means to
visit the temple one thousand times. This, however, is so hard to do
that busy pious men make a sort of compromise with the gods, thus: they
walk from the shrine one foot beyond the gate, and back again to the
shrine, one thousand times—all in one day, keeping count with the
little splints of bamboo.
There is one more famous thing to be seen before visiting the holy grove
behind the temple, and that is the Sacred Tama-tsubaki, or Precious-
Camellia of Yaegaki. It stands upon a little knoll, fortified by a
projection-wall, in a rice-field near the house of the priest; a fence
has been built around it, and votive lamps of stone placed before it. It
is of vast age, and has two heads and two feet; but the twin trunks grow
together at the middle. Its unique shape, and the good quality of
Iongevity it is believed to possess in common with all of its species,
cause itto be revered as a symbol of undying wedded love, and as
tenanted by the Kami who hearken to lovers' prayers—enmusubi-no-kami.
There is, however, a strange superstition, about tsubaki-trees; and this
sacred tree of Yaegaki, in the opinion of some folk, is a rare exception
to the general ghastliness of its species. For tsubaki-trees are goblin
trees, they say, and walk about at night; and there was one in the
garden of a Matsue samurai which did this so much that it had to be cut
down. Then it writhed its arms and groaned, and blood spurted at every
stroke of the axe.
At the spacious residence of the kannushi some very curious ofuda and o-
mamori—the holy talismans and charms of Yaegaki—are sold, together
with pictures representing Take-haya-susa-no-wo-no-mikoto and his bride
Inada-hime surrounded by the 'manifold fence' of clouds. On the pictures
is also printed the august song whence the temple derives its name of
Yaegaki-jinja,—'Ya kumo tatsu Idzumo ya-he-gaki.' Of the o-mamori
there is quite a variety; but by far the most interesting is that
labelled: 'Izumo-Yaegaki-jinja-en-musubi-on-hina' (August wedlock—
producing 'hina' of the temple of Yaegaki of Izumo). This oblong, folded
paper, with Chinese characters and the temple seal upon it, is purchased
only by those in love, and is believed to assure nothing more than the
desired union. Within the paper are two of the smallest conceivable
doll-figures (hina), representing a married couple in antique costume—
the tiny wife folded to the breast of the tiny husband by one long-
sleeved arm. It is the duty of whoever purchases this mamori to return
it to the temple if he or she succeed in marrying the person beloved. As
already stated, the charm is not supposed to assure anything more than
the union: it cannot be accounted responsible for any consequences
thereof. He who desires perpetual love must purchase another mamori
labelled: 'Renri-tama-tsubaki-aikyo-goki-to-on-mamori' (August amulet of
august prayer-for-kindling-love of the jewel-precious tsubaki-tree-of-
Union). This charm should maintain at constant temperature the warmth of
affection; it contains only a leaf of the singular double-bodied
camelliatree beforementioned. There are also small amulets for exciting
love, and amulets for the expelling of diseases, but these have no
special characteristics worth dwelling upon.
Then we take our way to the sacred grove—the Okuno-in, or Mystic
Shades of Yaegaki.
This ancient grove—so dense that when you first pass into its shadows
out of the sun all seems black—is composed of colossal cedars and
pines, mingled with bamboo, tsubaki (Camellia Japonica), and sakaki, the
sacred and mystic tree of Shinto. The dimness is chiefly made by the
huge bamboos. In nearly all sacred groves bamboos are thickly set
between the trees, and their feathery foliage, filling every lofty
opening between the heavier crests, entirely cuts off the sun. Even in a
bamboo grove where no other trees are, there is always a deep twilight.
As the eyes become accustomed to this green gloaming, a pathway outlines
itself between the trees—a pathway wholly covered with moss, velvety,
soft, and beautifully verdant. In former years, when all pilgrims were
required to remove their footgear before entering the sacred grove, this
natural carpet was a boon to the weary. The next detail one observes is
that the trunks of many of the great trees have been covered with thick
rush matting to a height of seven or eight feet, and that holes have
been torn through some of the mats. All the giants of the grove are
sacred; and the matting was bound about them to prevent pilgrims from
stripping off their bark, which is believed to possess miraculous
virtues. But many, more zealous than honest, do not hesitate to tear
away the matting in order to get at the bark. And the third curious fact
which you notice is that the trunks of the great bamboos are covered
with ideographs—with the wishes of lovers and the names of girls.
There is nothing in the world of vegetation so nice to write a
sweetheart's name upon as the polished bark of a bamboo: each letter,
however lightly traced at first, enlarges and blackens with the growth
of the bark, and never fades away.
The deeply mossed path slopes down to a little pond in the very heart of
the grove—a pond famous in the land of Izumo. Here there are many
imori, or water-newts, about five inches long, which have red bellies.
Here the shade is deepest, and the stems of the bamboos most thickly
tattooed with the names of girls. It is believed that the flesh of the
newts in the sacred pond of Yaegaki possesses aphrodisiac qualities; and
the body of the creature, reduced to ashes, by burning, was formerly
converted into love-powders. And there is a little Japanese song
referring to the practice:
'Hore-gusuri koka niwa naika to imori ni toeba, yubi-wo marumete kore
bakari.'
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The water is very clear; and there are many of these newts to be seen.
And it is the custom for lovers to make a little boat of paper, and put
into it one rin, and set it afloat and watch it. So soon as the paper
becomes wet through, and allows the water to enter it, the weight of the
copper coin soon sends it to the bottom, where, owing to the purity of
the water, it can be still seen distinctly as before. If the newts then
approach and touch it, the lovers believe their happiness assured by the
will of the gods; but if the newts do not come near it, the omen is
evil. One poor little paper boat, I observe, could not sink at all; it
simply floated to the inaccessible side of the pond, where the trees
rise like a solid wall of trunks from the water's edge, and there became
caught in some drooping branches. The lover who launched it must have
departed sorrowing at heart.
Close to the pond, near the pathway, there are many camellia-bushes, of
which the tips of the branches have been tied together, by pairs, with
strips of white paper. These are shrubs of presage. The true lover must
be able to bend two branches together, and to keep them united by tying
a paper tightly about them—all with the fingers of one hand. To do
this well is good luck. Nothing is written upon the strips of paper.
But there is enough writing upon the bamboos to occupy curiosity for
many an hour, in spite of the mosquitoes. Most of the names are yobi-na,
-that is to say, pretty names of women; but there are likewise names of
men—jitsumyo;
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and, oddly enough, a girl's name and a man's are in
no instance written together. To judge by all this ideographic
testimony, lovers in Japan—or at least in Izumo—are even more
secretive than in our Occident. The enamoured youth never writes his own
jitsumyo and his sweetheart's yobi-na together; and the family name, or
myoji, he seldom ventures to inscribe. If he writes his jitsumyo, then
he contents himself with whispering the yobi-na of his sweetheart to the
gods and to the bamboos. If he cuts her yobi-na into the bark, then he
substitutes for his own name a mention of his existence and his age
only, as in this touching instance: