Glimpses of an Unfamiliar Japan, vol 2 | Page 6

of joro. It has been argued with considerable force
that the origin of certain tree-names borne by girls must be sought in
the folk- conception of the tree as an emblem of longevity, or happiness,
or good fortune, rather than in any popular idea of the beauty of the tree
in itself. But however this may be, proverb, poem, song, and popular
speech to-day yield ample proof that the Japanese comparisons of
women to trees and flowers are in no-wise inferior to our own in
aesthetic sentiment.
º6
That trees, at least Japanese trees, have souls, cannot seem an unnatural
fancy to one who has seen the blossoming of the umenoki and the
sakuranoki. This is a popular belief in Izumo and elsewhere. It is not in
accord with Buddhist philosophy, and yet in a certain sense it strikes
one as being much closer to cosmic truth than the old Western orthodox
notion of trees as 'things created for the use of man.' Furthermore, there

exist several odd superstitions about particular trees, not unlike certain
West Indian beliefs which have had a good influence in checking the
destruction of valuable timber. Japan, like the tropical world, has its
goblin trees. Of these, the enoki (Celtis Willdenowiana) and the yanagi
(drooping willow) are deemed especially ghostly, and are rarely now to
be found in old Japanese gardens. Both are believed to have the power
of haunting. 'Enoki ga bakeru,' the izumo saying is. You will find in a
Japanese dictionary the word 'bakeru' translated by such terms as 'to be
transformed,' 'to be metamorphosed,' 'to be changed,' etc.; but the belief
about these trees is very singular, and cannot be explained by any such
rendering of the verb 'bakeru.' The tree itself does not change form or
place, but a spectre called Ki-no o-bake disengages itself from the tree
and walks about in various guises.' [20] Most often the shape assumed
by the phantom is that of a beautiful woman. The tree spectre seldom
speaks, and seldom ventures to go very far away from its tree. If
approached, it immediately shrinks back into the trunk or the foliage. It
is said that if either an old yanagi or a young enoki be cut blood will
flow from the gash. When such trees are very young it is not believed
that they have supernatural habits, but they become more dangerous the
older they grow.
There is a rather pretty legend--recalling the old Greek dream of
dryads--about a willow-tree which grew in the garden of a samurai of
Kyoto. Owing to its weird reputation, the tenant of the homestead
desired to cut it down; but another samurai dissuaded him, saying:
'Rather sell it to me, that I may plant it in my garden. That tree has a
soul; it were cruel to destroy its life.' Thus purchased and transplanted,
the yanagi flourished well in its new home, and its spirit, out of
gratitude, took the form of a beautiful woman, and became the wife of
the samurai who had befriended it. A charming boy was the result of
this union. A few years later, the daimyo to whom the ground belonged
gave orders that the tree should be cut down. Then the wife wept
bitterly, and for the first time revealed to her husband the whole story.
'And now,' she added, 'I know that I must die; but our child will live,
and you will always love him. This thought is my only solace.' Vainly
the astonished and terrified husband sought to retain her. Bidding him
farewell for ever, she vanished into the tree. Needless to say that the
samurai did everything in his power to persuade the daimyo to forgo

his purpose. The prince wanted the tree for the reparation of a great
Buddhist temple, the San-jiu-san-gen-do. [21]' The tree was felled, but,
having fallen, it suddenly became so heavy that three hundred men
could not move it. Then the child, taking a branch in his little hand,
said, 'Come,' and the tree followed him, gliding along the ground to the
court of the temple.
Although said to be a bakemono-ki, the enoki sometimes receives
highest religious honours; for the spirit of the god Kojin, to whom old
dolls are dedicated, is supposed to dwell within certain very ancient
enoki trees, and before these are placed shrines whereat people make
prayers.
º7
The second garden, on the north side, is my favourite, It contains no
large growths. It is paved with blue pebbles, and its centre is occupied
by a pondlet--a miniature lake fringed with rare plants, and containing a
tiny island, with tiny mountains and dwarf peach-trees and pines and
azaleas, some of which are perhaps more than a century old, though
scarcely more than a foot high. Nevertheless, this work, seen as