The Grave of the Maiden of Unáhi. I stand by the grave where they buried The Maiden of Unáhi, Whom of old the rival champions Did woo so jealously. The grave should hand down through the ages Her story for evermore, That men yet unborn might love her, And so beside the causeway They piled up the boulders high; May the pilgrim along the causeway Forget to turn aside, And mourn o'er the grave of the Maiden; And the village folk, beside, Ne'er cease from their bitter weeping, But cluster around her tomb; And the ages repeat her story, And bewail the Maiden's doom. Till at last e'en I stand gazing On the grave where she now lies low, And muse with unspeakable sadness (SAKIMARO.) The existence of the Maiden of Unáhi is not doubted by any of the native authorities, and, as usual, the tomb is there (or said to be there, for the present writer's search after it on the occasion of a somewhat hurried visit to that part of the country was vain) to attest the truth of the tradition. Ashinoya is the name of the village, and Unáhi of the district. The locality is in the province of Setsutsu, between the present treaty-ports of Kaube and Ohosaka. During the Middle Ages the story went on growing, and it may perhaps not be without interest to see the shape it had assumed by the tenth century. A classical story-book dating from which time, and entitled "Yamato Mono-gatari," or "Tales of Japan," tells the tale as follows :— In days of old there dwelt a maiden in the land of Setsutsu, whose hand was sought in marriage by two lovers. One, Mubara by name, was a native of the same country-side; the other, called Chinu, was a native of the land of Idzumi. The two were alike in years, alike in face, in figure and in stature; and whereas the maiden thought to accept the wooing of him that should the more dearly love her, lo! it fell out that they both loved her with the same love. No sooner faded the light of day, than both came to do their courting, and when they sent her gifts, the gifts were quite alike. Of neither could it be said that he excelled the other, and the girl meanwhile felt sick at heart. Had they been men of lukewarm devotion, neither would ever have obtained the maiden's hand; but it was because both of them, day after day and month after month, stood before the cottage-gate and made evident their affection in ten thousand different ways, that the maiden pined with a divided love. Neither lover's gifts were accepted, and yet both would come and stand, bearing in their hands gifts. The maiden had a father and a mother, and they aid to her, "Sad is it for us to have to bear the burden of thine unseemly conduct, in thus carelessly from month to month, and from year to year, causing others to sorrow. If thou wilt accept the one, after a little time the other's love will cease." The maiden made answer, "That likewise was my thought. But the sameness of the love of both has made me altogether sick at heart. Alas! what shall I do?" Now in olden days the people dwelt in houses raised on platforms built out into the river Tkuta. So the girl's father and mother, summoning to their presence the two lovers, spake thus: "Our child is pining with a love divided by the equal ardour of your worships. But to-day we intend, by whatever means, to fix her choice. One of you showeth his devotion by coming hither from a distant home; the other is our neighbour, but his love is boundless. This one and that are alike worthy of our pitying regard." Both the lovers heard these words with respectful joy; and the father and mother continued: "What we have further in our minds to say is this: floating on our river is a water-bird. Draw your bows at it; and to him that shall strike it, will we have the honour to present our daughter." "Well thought!" replied the lovers twain; and drawing their bows at the same instant, one struck the bird in the head and the other in the tail, so that neither could claim to be the better marksman. Sick with love, the maiden cried out— "Enough, enough! yon swiftly flowing wave Shall free my soul from her long anxious strife: and, with these words, let herself fall down into the river from the platform that overlooked it. While the father and mother, frantic with grief, were raving and shouting, the two lovers plunged together into the stream. One caught hold of the maiden's foot and the other of her hand, and the three sank together and perished in the flood. Terrible was the grief of the girl's father and mother, as, amid tears and lamentations, they lifted her body out of the water and prepared to give it burial. The parents of the two lovers likewise came to the spot, and dug for their sons, graves beside the grave of the maiden. But the father and mother of him that dwelt in the same country-side raised an outcry, saying, "That he who belongs to the same land should be buried in the same place is just. But how shall it be lawful for an alien to desecrate. our soil?" So the parents of him that dwelt in Idzumi laded a junk with Idzumi earth, in which, having brought it to the spot, they laid their son and to this day the maiden's grave stands there in the middle, and the graves of her lovers on either side. Paintings, too, of all these scenes of bygone days have been presented to the former Empress, and, moved by the pictures, many persons have composed * In this stanza the phonetic spelling Settsu has been adopted for the sake of the metre. + Probably the consort of the Mikado Uda, who died A.D. 931. ... stanzas of poetry, putting themselves in the place of one or other of the three persons of the story. (Here follow a number of thirty-onesyllable stanzas that are not worth the trouble of translating; and the tale then proceeds thus:) Ceremonial garments, trousers, a hat, and a sash were placed in a large hollow bamboo-cane, and buried with the one (i.e., the native of Unáhi), together with a bow, a quiver and a long sword. But the father and mother of the other must have been silly folks, for they prepared nothing in like manner. "Maiden's Grave" is the name by which the grave is called. The A certain wayfarer, who once passed the night in the neighbourhood of the grave, startled by the sound of fighting, sent his retainers to inquire into the cause thereof. They returned saying that they could hear nothing. But the wayfarer kept pondering on the strange story, and at last fell asleep. Then there rose up before him a blood-stained man, who, kneeling at his side, spake thus: "I am sorely harassed by the persecutions of an enemy, and entreat thee to condescend to lend me thy sword that I may be revenged on my tormentor." The request filled the wayfarer with alarm; nevertheless, he lent his sword, and, shortly awaking, imagined it to have been but a dream, yet in very truth the sword was missing; and, as he listened attentively, his ear caught the same terrific sound of fighting that had struck it at first. But a brief time elapsed before the spectre reappeared, and exclaimed exultingly: "By thine honourable assistance have I slain the foe that had oppressed me during these many years. From henceforward I will for ever watch over thy safety." He then told the tale from the beginning to the wayfarer, who, notwithstanding that the whole matter seemed to him to have an ugly look, would have inquired more particularly into the rights of so strange a story. But at that moment day began to dawn, and he found himself alone. The next morning, from the foot of the grave a stream of blood was seen to flow; and the sword also was blood-stained. The tale seems a most uncomfortable one; but I tell it as it was told to me. The Maiden of Ratsushika. Where in the far-off eastern land They tell of Katsushika's maid, Whose feet no shoe had e'er confined, With this dear child, who smiling stood, In beauty perfect and complete, Like to the full moon's ring. * The original of this stanza is obscure, and the native commentators have no satisfactory interpretation to offer. |