and the Chinese
story have nothing whatever in common; but in old Chinese books
there is recorded a curious fact which might well suggest a relationship.
In the time of the Chinese Emperor Ming Hwang (whom the Japanese
call Gens[=o]), it was customary for the ladies of the court, on the
seventh day of the seventh month, to catch spiders and put them into an
incense-box for purposes of divination. On the morning of the eighth
day the box was opened; and if the spiders had spun thick webs during
the night the omen was good. But if they had remained idle the omen
was bad.
[Footnote 1: Asagao (lit., "morning-face") is the Japanese name for the
beautiful climbing plant which we call "morning glory."]
* * * * *
There is a story that, many ages ago, a beautiful woman visited the
dwelling of a farmer in the mountains of Izumo, and taught to the only
daughter of the household an art of weaving never before known. One
evening the beautiful stranger vanished away; and the people knew that
they had seen the Weaving-Lady of Heaven. The daughter of the
farmer became renowned for her skill in weaving. But she would never
marry,--because she had been the companion of Tanabata-Sama.
* * * * *
Then there is a Chinese story--delightfully vague--about a man who
once made a visit, unawares, to the Heavenly Land. He had observed
that every year, during the eighth month, a raft of precious wood came
floating to the shore on which he lived; and he wanted to know where
that wood grew. So he loaded a boat with provisions for a two years'
voyage, and sailed away in the direction from which the rafts used to
drift. For months and months he sailed on, over an always placid sea;
and at last he arrived at a pleasant shore, where wonderful trees were
growing. He moored his boat, and proceeded alone into the unknown
land, until he came to the bank of a river whose waters were bright as
silver. On the opposite shore he saw a pavilion; and in the pavilion a
beautiful woman sat weaving; she was white like moonshine, and made
a radiance all about her. Presently he saw a handsome young peasant
approaching, leading an ox to the water; and he asked the young
peasant to tell him the name of the place and the country. But the youth
seemed to be displeased by the question, and answered in a severe tone:
"If you want to know the name of this place, go back to where you
came from, and ask Gen-Kum-Pei."[2] So the voyager, feeling afraid,
hastened to his boat, and returned to China. There he sought out the
sage Gen-Kum-Pei, to whom he related the adventure. Gen-Kum-Pei
clapped his hands for wonder, and exclaimed, "So it was you!... On the
seventh day of the seventh month I was gazing at the heavens, and I
saw that the Herdsman and the Weaver were about to meet;--but
between them was a new Star, which I took to be a Guest-Star.
Fortunate man! you have been to the River of Heaven, and have looked
upon the face of the Weaving-Lady!..."
[Footnote 2: This is the Japanese reading of the Chinese name.]
* * * * *
--It is said that the meeting of the Herdsman and the Weaver can be
observed by any one with good eyes; for whenever it occurs those stars
burn with five different colors. That is why offerings of five colors are
made to the Tanabata divinities, and why the poems composed in their
praise are written upon paper of five different tints.
But, as I have said before, the pair can meet only in fair weather. If
there be the least rain upon the seventh night, the River of Heaven will
rise, and the lovers must wait another whole year. Therefore the rain
that happens to fall on Tanabata night is called Namida no Amé, "The
Rain of Tears."
When the sky is clear on the seventh night, the lovers are fortunate; and
their stars can be seen to sparkle with delight. If the star Kengy[=u]
then shines very brightly, there will be great rice crops in the autumn. If
the star Shokujo looks brighter than usual, there will be a prosperous
time for weavers, and for every kind of female industry.
* * * * *
In old Japan it was generally supposed that the meeting of the pair
signified good fortune to mortals. Even to-day, in many parts of the
country, children sing a little song on the evening of the Tanabata
festival,--Tenki ni nari! ("O weather, be clear!") In the province of Iga
the young folks also sing a jesting song at the supposed hour of
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