the mountain of the lotus and the fan
mount fuji, or fuji-yama ("the never-dying mountain"), seems to be typically japanese. its great snow-capped cone resembles a huge inverted fan, the fine streaks down its sides giving the appearance of fan-ribs. a native has thus fittingly described it: "fuji dominates life by its silent beauty: sorrow is hushed, longing quieted, peace seems to flow down from that changeless home of peace, the peak of the white lotus." the reference here to a white lotus is as appropriate as that of the wide-stretched fan, for it refers to the sacred flower of the lord buddha, and its eight points symbolise to the devout buddhist the eight intelligences of perception, purpose, speech, conduct, living, effort, mindfulness, and contemplation. the general effect of fuji, then, suggests on the one hand religion, and on the other a fan vast enough and fair enough to coquet with stars and swift-moving clouds. poets and artists alike have paid their tributes of praise to this peerless mountain, and we give the following exquisite poem on this apparently inexhaustible theme:
"fuji yama,
touched by thy divine breath,
we return to the shape of god.
thy silence is song,
thy song is the song of heaven:
our land of fever and care
turns to a home of mellow-eyed ease—
the home away from the land
where mortals are born only to die.
we japanese daughters and sons,
[pg 131]chanting of thy fair majesty,
the pride of god,
seal our shadows in thy bosom,
the balmiest place of eternity,
o white-faced wonder,
o matchless sight,
o sublimity, o beauty!
the thousand rivers carry thy sacred image
on their brows;
all the mountains raise their heads unto thee
like the flowing tide,
as if to hear thy final command.
behold! the seas surrounding japan
lose their hungry-toothed song and wolfish desire,
kissed by lullaby-humming repose,
at sight of thy shadow,
as one in a dream of poem.
we being round thee forget to die:
death is sweet,
life is sweeter than death.
we are mortals and also gods,
innocent companions of thine,
o eternal fuji!"
yone noguchi.
mount fuji has been a place of pilgrimage for hundreds of years, and lafcadio hearn has described its peak as "the supreme altar of the sun." many pilgrims still cling to the old shinto custom of ascending this sacred mountain, wearing white clothes and very broad straw hats, and frequently ringing a bell and chanting: "may our six senses be pure, and the weather on the honourable mountain be fair."
fuji was at one time an extremely active volcano. her final outbreak took place in 1707-8, and covered tokyo, sixty miles distant, with six inches of ash. the very name fuji is probably derived from huchi, or fuchi, the aino goddess of fire; "for," writes professor chamberlain, "down to times almost historical the country round fuji formed part of aino-land, and all eastern japan is strewn with names of aino origin."
[pg 132]
the deities of fuji
sengen, the goddess of fuji, is also known as ko-no-hana-saku-ya-hime[1] ("radiant-blooming-as-the-flowers-of-the-trees"), and on the summit is her temple. in ancient days it is said that this goddess hovered in a luminous cloud above the crater, tended by invisible servants, who were prepared to throw down any pilgrims who were not pure of heart. another deity of this mountain is o-ana-mochi ("possessor of the great hole," or "crater"). in addition we have the luminous maiden, who lured a certain emperor to his doom. at the place of his vanishing a small shrine was erected, where he is still worshipped. it is said that on one occasion a shower of priceless jewels fell down from this mountain, and that the sand which during the day is disturbed by the feet of countless pilgrims falls to the base and nightly reascends to its former position.
fuji, the abode of the elixir of life
it is not surprising to find that legend has grown round this venerable and venerated mountain. like so many mountains in japan, and, indeed, in other eastern countries, it was associated with the elixir of life. the japanese poet's words, "we being round thee forget to die," though written in recent years, seem to reflect the old idea. we have already seen, in the legend of "the bamboo-cutter and the moon-maiden," that tsuki was commanded by the lady kaguya to ascend fuji and there burn the elixir of life, together with a certain scroll.
the fame of fuji, so an old legend informs us, reached the ears of an emperor of china. when he was told that this mountain had come into being in a[pg 133] single night[2] he conjectured that mount fuji must needs yield the elixir of life itself. he accordingly collected about him a number of handsome youths and maidens and set sail for the land of the rising sun. the junks rushed before the roaring wind like a shower of gold petals; but eventually the storm abated, and the emperor and his people saw the white splendour of fuji rise up before them. when the junks had run in upon the shore the emperor formed his company in procession, and, walking very slowly, led the way up the mountain. hour after hour the procession climbed, the gold-robed emperor ever walking in advance, until the sound of the sea was lost, and the thousand feet trod softly on the snow where there was peace and life eternal. nearing the journey's end, the old emperor ran forward joyously, for he wanted to be the first to drink of the elixir of life. and he was the first to taste of that life that never grows old; but when the company found him they saw their emperor lying on his back with a smile upon his face. he had indeed found life eternal, but it was through the way of death.
sentaro's visit to the land of perpetual youth
the desire to wrest from mount fuji the secret of perpetual life never seems to have met with success. a chinese, jofuku by name, reached the sacred mountain with this object in view. he failed, and never lived to return to his own country; but he is looked upon as a saint, and those bound on the same quest pray earnestly at his shrine.
sentaro on one occasion prayed at this shrine, and was presented with a small paper crane, which expanded to a vast size directly it had reached his hands. on[pg 134] the back of this great crane flew sentaro to the land of perpetual youth, where, to his amazement, the people ate poisons and longed in vain to die! sentaro soon grew weary of this land, returned to his own country, and resolved to be content with the ordinary span of years allotted to mankind—as well he may have been, considering that he had already spent three hundred years in the country where there was no death and no birth.
the goddess of fuji
yosoji's mother, in common with many in the village where she lived, was stricken down with smallpox. yosoji consulted the magician kamo yamakiko in the matter, for his mother grew so ill that every hour he expected her to be taken from him in death. kamo yamakiko told yosoji to go to a small stream that flowed from the south-west side of mount fuji. "near the source of this stream," said the magician, "is a shrine to the god of long breath. go fetch this water, and give it to your mother, for this alone will cure her."
yosoji, full of hope, eagerly set forth upon his journey, and when he had arrived at a spot where three paths crossed each other he was in difficulty as to the right one to take. just as he was debating the matter a lovely girl, clad in white, stepped out from the forest, and bade him follow her to the place where the precious stream flowed near the shrine of the god of long breath.
sengen, the goddess of mount fuji.
when they reached the stream yosoji was told to drink himself, as well as to fill the gourd with the sparkling water for his mother. when he had done these things the beautiful girl accompanied him to the place where he had originally seen her, and said: "meet me again at this place in three days' time, for you will require a further supply of this water."
[pg 135]
after five visits to this sacred shrine yosoji rejoiced to find that his mother was quite well again, and not only his mother, but many of the villagers who had also been privileged to drink the water. yosoji's bravery was loudly extolled, and presents were sent to the magician for his timely advice; but yosoji, who was an honest lad, knew in his heart that all praise was really due to the beautiful girl who had been his guide. he desired to thank her more fully than he had hitherto done, and for this purpose he once more set out for the stream.
when yosoji reached the shrine of the god of long breath he found that the stream had dried up. with much surprise and not a little sorrow he knelt down and prayed that she who had been so good to his mother would appear before him in order that he might thank her as she so richly deserved. when yosoji arose he saw the maiden standing before him.
yosoji expressed his gratitude in warm and elegant language, and begged to be told the name of her who had been his guide and restored his mother to health and strength again. but the maiden, smiling sweetly upon him, would not tell her name. still smiling, she swung a branch of camellia in the air, so that it seemed that the fair blossom beckoned to some invisible spirit far away. in answer to the floral summons a cloud came down from mount fuji; it enveloped the lovely maiden, and carried her to the sacred mountain from which she had come. yosoji knew now that his guide was none other than the goddess of fuji. he knelt with rapture upon his face as he watched the departing figure. as he gazed upon her he knew in his heart that with his thanks love had mingled too. while he yet knelt the goddess of fuji threw down the branch of camellia, a remembrance, perhaps a token, of her love for him.
[pg 136]
the rip van winkle of old japan
we have already referred to the coming of fuji in a single night, and the following legend gives an account of this remarkable event. we have added to this legend another, which is probably of chinese origin, because the two fit in well together and furnish interesting material in regard to this mountain.
many years ago there lived on the then barren plain of suruga a woodman by the name of visu. he was a giant in stature, and lived in a hut with his wife and children. one night, just as visu was about to fall asleep, he heard a most extraordinary sound coming from under the earth, a sound louder and more terrible than thunder. visu, thinking that he and his family were about to be destroyed by an earthquake, hastily snatched up the younger children and rushed to the door of the hut, where he saw a most wonderful sight. instead of the once desolate plain he perceived a great mountain from whose head sprang tongues of flame and dense clouds of smoke! so glorious was the sight of this mountain that had run under the earth for two hundred miles and then suddenly sprung forth on the plain of suruga that visu, his wife and family, sat down on the ground as if under a spell. when the sun rose the next morning visu saw that the mountain had put on robes of opal. it seemed so impressive to him that he called it fuji-yama ("the never-dying mountain"), and so it is called to this day. such perfect beauty suggested to the woodman the eternal, an idea which no doubt gave rise to the elixir of life so frequently associated with this mountain.
day after day visu sat and gazed upon fuji, and was just conjecturing how nice it would be for so imposing a mountain to be able to see her loveliness, when[pg 137] a great lake suddenly stretched before him, shaped like a lute, and so called biwa.[3]
the adventures of visu
one day visu received a visit from an old priest, who said to him: "honourable woodman, i am afraid you never pray." visu replied: "if you had a wife and a large family to keep you would never have time to pray." this remark made the priest angry, and the old man gave the woodcutter a vivid description of the horror of being reborn as a toad, or a mouse, or an insect for millions of years. such lurid details were not to visu's liking, and he accordingly promised the priest that in future he would pray. "work and pray," said the priest as he took his departure.
unfortunately visu did nothing but pray. he prayed all day long and refused to do any work, so that his rice crops withered and his wife and family starved. visu's wife, who had hitherto never said a harsh or bitter word to her husband, now became extremely angry, and, pointing to the poor thin bodies of her children, she exclaimed: "rise, visu, take up your axe and do something more helpful to us all than the mere mumbling of prayers!"
visu was so utterly amazed at what his wife had said that it was some time before he could think of a fitting reply. when he did so his words came hot and strong to the ears of his poor, much-wronged wife.
[pg 138]
"woman," said he, "the gods come first. you are an impertinent creature to speak to me so, and i will have nothing more to do with you!" visu snatched up his axe and, without looking round to say farewell, he left the hut, strode out of the wood, and climbed up fuji-yama, where a mist hid him from sight.
when visu had seated himself upon the mountain he heard a soft rustling sound, and immediately afterward saw a fox dart into a thicket. now visu deemed it extremely lucky to see a fox, and, forgetting his prayers, he sprang up, and ran hither and thither in the hope of again finding this sharp-nosed little creature. he was about to give up the chase when, coming to an open space in a wood, he saw two ladies sitting down by a brook playing go.[4] the woodman was so completely fascinated that he could do nothing but sit down and watch them. there was no sound except the soft click of pieces on the board and the song of the running brook. the ladies took no notice of visu, for they seemed to be playing a strange game that had no end, a game that entirely absorbed their attention. visu could not keep his eyes off these fair women. he watched their long black hair and the little quick hands that shot out now and again from their big silk sleeves in order to move the pieces. after he had been sitting there for three hundred years, though to him it was but a summer's afternoon, he saw that one of the players had made a false move. "wrongs most lovely lady!" he exclaimed excitedly. in a moment these women turned into foxes[5] and ran away.
visu on mount fuji-yama.
when visu attempted to pursue them he found to[pg 139] his horror that his limbs were terribly stiff, that his hair was very long, and that his beard touched the ground. he discovered, moreover, that the handle of his axe, though made of the hardest wood, had crumbled away into a little heap of dust.
visu's return
after many painful efforts visu was able to stand on his feet and proceed very slowly toward his little home. when he reached the spot he was surprised to see no hut, and, perceiving a very old woman, he said: "good lady, i am amazed to find that my little home has disappeared. i went away this afternoon, and now in the evening it has vanished!"
the old woman, who believed that a madman was addressing her, inquired his name. when she was told, she exclaimed: "bah! you must indeed be mad! visu lived three hundred years ago! he went away one day, and he never came back again."
"three hundred years!" murmured visu. "it cannot be possible. where are my dear wife and children?"
"buried!" hissed the old woman, "and, if what you say is true, your children's children too. the gods have prolonged your miserable life in punishment for having neglected your wife and little children."
big tears ran down visu's withered cheeks as he said in a husky voice: "i have lost my manhood. i have prayed when my dear ones starved and needed the labour of my once strong hands. old woman, remember my last words: if you pray, work too!"
we do not know how long the poor but repentant visu lived after he returned from his strange adventures. his white spirit is still said to haunt fuji-yama when the moon shines brightly.
[1] she married ninigi, and is referred to in chapter i.
[2] see the last section of this chapter.
[3] there is some confusion here, for in actual fact lake biwa is a hundred and forty miles distant from fuji—too great a distance, one would imagine, for even a miraculous mountain to look into. legend asserts that fuji came from the earth in a single night, while lake biwa sank simultaneously. professor chamberlain writes: "may we not have here an echo of some early eruption, which resulted in the formation, not indeed of lake biwa....but of one of the numerous small lakes at the foot of the mountain?"
[4] a game introduced from china resembling chess, but a more complicated variety than the game with which we are familiar.
[5] fox legends have been fully described in chapter v.
