Ugetsu Monogatari or Tales of Moonlight and Rain (Routledge Revivals)

by Ueda Akinari

  His father, however, was unable to stand by and watch Isora's constancy and devotion any longer, so he disciplined Shōtarō and placed him in confinement.369 Isora felt sorry for her husband and served him attentively morning and evening. She also quietly sent things over to Sode's place and made every effort to do what she could. One day, while the father was away from home, Shōtarō used all of his wiles on Isora, saying, ‘When I see the sweetness and goodness that there is in you, it makes me realise at last just how rotten I've been. I ought to have sent Sode back where she came from and tried to patch things up with father, but, you see, she is from Inamino,370 in Harima, and her parents have died, leaving her with absolutely no prospects at all, so I felt sorry for her and took her in. If I abandoned her now, surely she would become a common whore in some port town. Although the outlook for her might not seem much better there, I've heard that in the capital one can find understanding people. I would like to send Sode to Kyoto, where she can seek a position with a person of quality. But in my predicament I can't do anything. How can we get371 the money to put clothes on her back and send her away? You must help somehow and obtain for her what she needs.’ Hearing him speak so sincerely, Isora responded with delight.

  ‘Don't worry about a thing,’ she replied, and secretly she sold her own clothing and personal belongings and also went back to her mother to request money, all of which she gave to Shōtarō.

  After getting the money Shōtarō stole away from home, taking Sode with him, and fled toward the capital. When Isora learned how Shōtarō had tricked her, she fell into grief and rage and ultimately became ill. The Izawas and the Kasadas condemned Shōtarō and pitied Isora, but although they tried everything that medicine could do, day after day she even refused to eat. Nothing seemed to be of any avail.

  Meantime, in the province of Harima, in the district of Inami, in the hamlet of Arai372 there lived a man named Hikoroku. Because he and Sode were close relatives, the fugitives first called on him and for a while rested their feet.

  ‘Even in the capital,’ Hikoroku suggested to Shōtarō, ‘you can't simply turn to anyone. You should stay here. You can share my food, and we'll find a way to make a living together.’373

  Shōtarō felt relieved at such comforting words, and he decided that it would be best to settle down there. Hikoroku rented a dilapidated house next to his own dwelling and helped the couple move in, feeling pleased that he seemed to have found two friends. Sode, however, within a few days of their arrival complained of feeling a draught, and for no apparent reason she suffered agonies and became deranged, as though possessed. Owing to the misery that she suffered from her condition, Shōtarō even forgot his meals. He embraced her and comforted her, but she lay374 perpetually weeping. Painful seizures of the chest would render her unconscious, and when she awoke her state remained unchanged. Shōtarō felt great anxiety, wondering whether the cause lay in a living demon and perhaps had some connection with Isora, whom he had left in his native village.

  ‘Why should it be anything of that sort ?’ said Hikoroku, in disagreement. ‘I've seen many cases of people who get what's known as “the plague.” When her fever goes down a bit, it'll all seem like a dream.’ The casual way that he spoke reassured Shōtarō. But by the seventh day, inexorably, and without the least sign of improvement, all had been in vain.

  Filled with anguish, Shōtarō lamented to the heavens and beat upon the earth, swearing that he would follow Sode in death.375 Hikoroku tried to calm him, pointing out that they could hardly let the body lie as is. Finally, Sode's remains turned to smoke on a wild moor, and Shōtarō gathered the ashes, constructed a mound, and placed a marker there. He called in a priest and devoutly prayed for the salvation of Sode's soul.

  Although Shōtarō now prostrated himself and tried to communicate beyond the grave, he had no means for summoning Sode's spirit.376 When he looked up and thought of his native hamlet, he realised that it was even further away than Hell. Behind him his familial ties were severed and before him loomed oblivion. Each moment of the day377 he lay in grief, and as he went night after night to pray at Sode's grave, grass began to grow on the mound, and the occasional chirping of insects added to his melancholy.

  While Shōtarō was lost in the reveries brought on by this lonely autumn,378 he saw that a similar sorrow existed under the heavens,379 when a fresh grave appeared next to Sode's. A woman in mourning came here to pray, and Shōtarō noticed that she offered flowers and sprinkled water.

  ‘How unfortunate,’ he said, ‘a young woman like you frequenting this wild, deserted moor!’

  ‘Yes, I have been coming here each evening to worship,’380 replied the woman, turning to him. ‘But you are already praying when I arrive. You must be lamenting for a loved one from whom you have been parted. I can well imagine your terrible grief,’ and she broke into tears.

  ‘Just ten days ago,’ Shōtarō explained, ‘my beloved wife passed away, and being left in this world with no one to turn to, I find that my visits here bring me at least some solace. I'm sure that the same must be true of you.’

  ‘I come to pray,’ replied the woman, ‘for the memory of the master who employed me and who was recently laid to rest here. My mistress is so sad that she has fallen ill and must remain at home, and I've been bringing incense and flowers here in her behalf.’

  ‘I can readily understand that she381 should fall ill,’ said Shōtarō. ‘Who, may I ask, was the deceased man, and where does his family live ?’

  ‘My master was once an important person in this province,’ the woman explained, ‘but owing to slanderous remarks, he lost his lands and was forced to endure a life of poverty on the edge of the moors.382 My mistress used to be renowned for her beauty383 as far away as the next province, and it was on her account that my master forfeited his house and estate.’

  Trying to sound as though he were not too curious, Shōtarō said, ‘If your mistress is living nearby, I might pay her a visit and console her by talking about our similar misfortunes. Please show me the way.’

  ‘The house lies a short distance from the path you usually use,’ replied the woman. ‘Since my mistress has no one to comfort her, by all means drop in when you have the time. Meanwhile, I'm sure that she'll be anxiously waiting for me to return.’ Thereupon, the woman arose and departed.

  Shōtarō followed along the narrow path for about two hundred paces and turned in, walking for another hundred steps, and there by a shadowy grove384 stood a small thatched hut. On the wretched looking bamboo doorway the moon, slightly more than half full, cast its light unimpeded. Shōtarō noticed a small garden, which had been left to neglect.385 Through the paper in the window the rays of a dim lamp shone, adding to the desolation of the scene.

  ‘Please wait here,’ said the woman, as she entered. Shōtarō, standing by an old well covered with moss, tried to peer into the house,386 and through a small opening in the Chinese paper he caught a glimpse of flickering lamplight and a gleaming black lacquer cupboard,387 which made him want to see more.

  At last the woman reappeared, saying, ‘I have told my mistress that you wished to call on her, and she has asked me to show you in and to set up a partition so that she may speak with you. She has now come to the outer wall. Allow me to take you to her.’ She led him through the front garden and around to the rear. The door was barely open, and within the tiny, makeshift reception room stood a low screen at the edge of which a piece of shabby bedding was visible. Behind this the mistress of the house sat concealed.

  ‘I heard of your tragedy and how it led to your being afflicted with an illness,’ said Shōtarō, facing toward the screen. ‘I have lost a dearly beloved wife, myself, and though it may seem rather sudden, I wanted to pay you a visit, so that we might share each other's sorrow.’

  ‘What a surprise to meet you here!’ said the mistress, opening the screen a trifle. ‘Let me show you how bitter my revenge can be.’ Shōtarō was astonished to see the figure of Isora, whom he had left in his n
ative village. Her face had grown pallid and spectre-thin, and her listless eyes held a vacant stare. She pointed at him with a thin, blue finger388 that struck terror into his heart, and Shōtarō, screaming in horror, fell as if dead.

  Later, as he came to his senses and opened his eyes, hesitantly at first, he saw that what had appeared to be the house was in reality a small meditation hall containing a blackened Buddhist image, which had always stood there on the deserted moor. The bark of a dog in the distant village restored his courage, and Shōtarō hurried home to tell Hikoroku what had happened.

  ‘What sort of fox did you let yourself get tricked by ?’ said Hikoroku. ‘When you are swayed by fear, you'll always feel the torment of spirits that can lead you astray. When a person grows timid, as you have done, and sinks into such misfortune, he should pray to the Gods and Buddhas and calm his mind. In the hamlet of Toda389 there is a famous soothsayer.390 Purify yourself and ask him to give you a charm.’ Later he led Shōtarō to the diviner's place, informing the holy man of all that had come to pass and requesting him to foretell the future.

  vi The Caldron of kibitsu: shōtarō unexpectedly meets Isora's vengeful spirit

  ‘Calamity has already closed in around you,’ the priest explained to Shōtarō, after performing divination. ‘You cannot afford to relax. The ghost has snatched away a woman's life, and its anger remains unabated. Your very existence is in constant danger. Because it left the world seven days ago, for the next forty-two,391 counting from today, you must stay in confinement and keep yourself pure and clean. By paying heed to my warning, you may be able to avoid almost certain death and save yourself. But if you make even the slightest mistake, all will be lost.’

  Leaving nothing to chance, he took his brush, and over Shōtarō’s entire back and then his arms and legs the holy man wrote characters in the style of ancient seals.392 In addition, he gave him slips of paper with spells inscribed on them in vermilion ink.393 ‘Place these charms on each door,’ he instructed, ‘and pray to the Gods and Buddhas. Don't do anything wrong, or you'll surely die.’

  With fear and hope conjoined, Shōtarō returned home, affixed the vermilion charms to his door and windows and shut himself up in complete seclusion. That night, at about the time of the third watch,394 a horrible voice moaned, ‘Oh, how hateful ! Someone has put a sacred charm here.’ Afterward, there was silence. Shōtarō passed the long hours of darkness filled with anxiety. As soon as the light of dawn began to show, he felt a sense of relief and pounded on the wall facing Hikoroku's place and told his companion what had happened.

  Hikoroku for the first time took seriously what the priest had said, and he stayed up the following night with Shōtarō to wait for the third watch. Wind howled through the pine trees as if to topple the very trunks,395 and rain fell, adding to the eerie atmosphere, while the two men separated by thin walls reassured one another until the fourth watch began. Then, on the paper window of the smaller hut a beam of red light flashed through the pitch black darkness, and a voice resounded with an unearthly ring, ‘Oh, how hateful! There is a sacred charm here too.’ The hair on Hikoroku's head and body all stood on end, and for a time he lost consciousness.

  When daybreak came the two men talked of what had happened during the night. Every evening they longed for the dawn, and the forty-two days seemed more than a thousand years in passing.396 Meanwhile, each night the demon prowled around the house or perched on the rooftop screaming, its doleful cry every time more terrible than the last. Eventually, the forty-second evening came. Hoping only to get through one more night, Shōtarō took particular care after darkness had fallen, and at last, during the fifth watch, he perceived in the sky the first traces of light. Like a man awakening from a long dream, he immediately called Hikoroku, and through the wall came the reply,

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘My long period of isolation has finally ended,’ said Shōtarō. ‘Not once have I seen your face. For old time's sake do what you can to console me after the dreary and terrifying ordeal I've just endured. Get up and let's go outside.’

  ‘Nothing can happen now,’ replied Hikoroku, being an imprudent fellow.397 ‘Come over to my place.’ But before he could open the door halfway, from the adjoining hut there arose a scream of bloodcurdling intensity, and Hikoroku was swept from his feet.

  Realizing that his friend's life was in danger, Hikoroku grabbed an axe and rushed out to the front path. What Shōtarō had taken for the first signs of daybreak proved to be premature. The moon shone high in the sky, pale and wan, and the wind carried a cold sting. Shōtarō’s door, he discovered, stood open, and his companion was nowhere to be seen. Thinking that perhaps he had fled back into the house, Hikoroku went inside to look. But it was hardly the sort of dwelling in which one could hide. He searched along the road, in case his friend had fallen there. Still, he found nothing by the wayside. At a loss as to what could have happened, Hikoroku was struck by the mystery of it, and also by fear.

  Holding a torch aloft, he explored everywhere, until finally, on the wall next to the outside of the open door, he noticed fresh warm blood trickling down toward the ground. No body and no bones, however, were to be found. By the light of the moon he spied an object on the edge of the eaves. Upon raising his torch to see what it was, he discovered hanging there nothing else than a bleeding head, torn and mangled.398 This was the only trace of Shōtarō that remained.

  The futility of it, and the terror, can scarcely be recorded by the brush. When the night was at last over, Hikoroku hunted throughout the nearby moors and mountains, but being unable to find any further sign, he abandoned the search. He told the Izawas of what had befallen their son, and they, in tears, reported it to the Kasadas. Meantime, the way in which the diviner's miraculous prophesy and the caldron's ill omen were both completely fulfilled serves to show the power of the supernatural. Thus, the story has been handed down.

  16 ‘Once upon a time ... in the province of Kii, by the cape of Miwa’ (p. 161). Scene from a long landscape scroll by Gion Nankai (1677-1751), ‘Pilgrimage to the Three Immortal Shrines.’ (Tokyo National Museum; photograph courtesy of Suntory Museum, Tokyo.)

  17 ‘At Miwa's rugged cape,/ And by the Sano Crossing/ No cottage appears in sight’ (p. 163). (Photograph courtesy of Kadokawa.)

  18 ‘Leaving only ... a skeleton lying in the weeds’ (p. 193). Painting by Itō Jakuchū (1716-1800). (Hyōgo, Saifukuji temple; photograph courtesy of Tokyo National Museum.)

  19 ‘So how, indeed, can Hideyoshi last?’ (p. 203). Sketch for a portrait made by Kanō Sanraku (1559-1635). (Hyōgo, Itsuō; Important Cultural Property.)

  VOLUME FOUR

  VII THE LUST OF THE WHITE SERPENT

  (Jasei no in)399

  Once upon a time, though it matters not exactly when,400 in the province of Kii, by the cape of Miwa,401 there lived a fisherman named Ōya402 no Takesuke. He was rich in the luck of the sea403 and took care of many other fishermen who caught all sorts of things, broad of fin and narrow of fin, thus enabling his house to prosper. Takesuke had two sons and one daughter. His first son, Tarō, was a simple but hard-working man, and his second child, a girl, had married someone from the province of Yamato, where she now lived. The third child, named Toyoo, grew to be a gentle young lad, especially fond of polite accomplishments but with little practical sense.

  ‘If I gave him his share of the inheritance,’ the father lamented, ‘it would soon pass into other hands. Even should another family adopt him to continue their line, I would eventually grow ill from hearing uncomplimentary reports. The best thing to do would be to let him develop in his own way and become a scholar404 or a priest, if he pleases, and for the rest of his life Tarō could look after his needs.’ From then on he made no effort to restrain his son.

  Toyoo had a teacher who was a priest at the Shingū Shrine.405 His name was Abe no Yumimaro, and Toyoo visited him regularly. On one of these trips, around the end of the Ninth Month,406 when the sea was especially calm, clouds suddenly ar
ose from the southeast,407 and a light drizzle began to fall.408 Therefore, as he set out from his master's home Toyoo borrowed a large umbrella, but by the time he came in sight of the Asuka Shrine,409 the rain had grown so heavy that he decided to seek shelter at a nearby fisherman's hut.

  ‘Oh, it's the master's younger son,’ said the old man who came to the door. ‘Your visit is indeed an honour for such a humble place as mine. Please come in and sit down.’ He took out a shabby round cushion from which he shook the dust and offered it to Toyoo.

  ‘The rain will surely stop soon, and I'll be all right, so please don't put yourself out for me,’ Toyoo protested as he accepted the old man's hospitality.

  Then, strange to relate, a sweet voice came from outside saying, ‘Please give me some shelter for a little while,’ and a young lady entered. She seemed to be not yet in her twentieth year. She was very beautiful410 and she had lovely long hair and was dressed in an elegant kimono printed with a pattern representing distant mountains.411 A pretty maid fourteen or fifteen years old carrying a bundle wrapped in cloth accompanied her, and the pair looked drenched and bedraggled.412 When the young woman saw Toyoo, her face flushed with embarrassment, betraying her fine breeding.

  Toyoo felt an impulsive stir of excitement, and he thought to himself, ‘I've never heard of such a splendid lady living nearby. I suppose she has come from the capital on a journey to the Three Holy Places413 and has decided to visit this area in order to enjoy the seaside. But it's certainly unusual that she has no man to accompany her.’ He said, ‘By all means, make yourself comfortable,’ stepping back as he spoke. ‘The rain should stop soon.’