Ancient Tales and Folk-Lore of Japan | Page 6

and became their absorbing
joy. There was not a moment of their spare time in which either Heitaro
or his wife was not playing with the child, whom they called ChiyodÅ.
It is doubtful if a more happy home could have been found in all Japan
than the house of Heitaro, with his good wife Higo and their beautiful
child.
Alas, where in this world has complete happiness ever been known to
last? Even did the gods permit this, the laws of man would not.
When ChiyodÅ had reached the age of five years--the most beautiful
boy in the neighbourhood--the ex-Emperor Toba decided to build in
Kyoto an immense temple to Kwannon. He would contribute 1001
images of the Goddess of Mercy. (Now, in 1907, as we said at the
beginning, this temple is known as 'San-jū-san-gen Do,' and contains
33,333 images.)
The ex-Emperor Toba's wish having become known, orders were given
by the authorities to collect timber for the building of the vast temple;
and so it came to pass that the days of the big willow tree were
numbered, for it would be wanted, with many others, to form the roof.
Heitaro tried to save the tree again by offering every other he had on
his land for nothing; but that was in vain. Even the villagers became
anxious to see their willow tree built into the temple. It would bring
them good luck, they thought, and in any case be a handsome gift of
theirs towards the great temple.
The fatal time arrived. One night, when Heitaro and his wife and child
had retired to rest and were sleeping, Heitaro was awakened by the
sound of axes chopping. To his astonishment, he found his beloved
wife sitting up in her bed, gazing earnestly at him, while tears rolled
down her cheeks and she was sobbing bitterly.
'My dearest husband,' she said with choking voice, pray listen to what I

tell you now, and do not doubt me. This is, unhappily, not a dream.
When we married I begged you not to ask me my history, and you have
never done so; but I said I would tell you some day if there should be a
real occasion to do so. Unhappily, that occasion has now arrived, my
dear husband. I am no less a thing than the spirit of the willow tree you
loved, and so generously saved six years ago. It was to repay you for
this great kindness that I appeared to you in human form under the tree,
hoping that I could live with you and make you happy for your whole
life. Alas, it cannot be! They are cutting down the willow. How I feel
every stroke of their axes! I must return to die, for I am part of it. My
heart breaks to think also of leaving my darling child ChiyodÅ and of
his great sorrow when he knows that his mother is no longer in the
world. Comfort him, dearest husband! He is old enough and strong
enough to be with you now without a mother and yet not suffer. I wish
you both long lives of prosperity. Farewell, my dearest! I must be off to
the willow, for I hear them striking with their axes harder and harder,
and it weakens me each blow they give.'
Heitaro awoke his child just as Higo disappeared, wondering to himself
if it were not a dream. No: it was no dream. ChiyodÅ, awaking,
stretched his arms in the direction his mother had gone, crying bitterly
and imploring her to come back.
My darling child,' said Heitaro, 'she has gone. She cannot come back.
Come: let us dress, and go and see her funeral. Your mother was the
spirit of the Great Willow.'
A little later, at the break of day, Heitaro took ChiyodÅ by the hand
and led him to the tree. On reaching it they found it down, and already
lopped of its branches. The feelings of Heitaro may be well imagined.
Strange! In spite of united efforts, the men were unable to move the
stem a single inch towards the river, in which it was to be floated to
Kyoto.
On seeing this, Heitaro addressed the men.
'My friends,' said he, 'the dead trunk of the tree which you are trying to

move contains the spirit of my wife. Perhaps, if you will allow my little
son ChiyodÅ to help you, it will be more easy for you; and he would
like to help in showing his last respects to his mother.'
The woodcutters were fully agreeable, and, much to their astonishment,
as ChiyodÅ came to the back end of the log and pushed it with his little
hand, the timber glided easily towards the river, his father singing the
while an