The Yotsuya Kwaidan | Page 2

Nippon. One of these, the Yotsuya Kwaidan,[1] is presented in the
present volume, not so much because of the incidents involved and the
peculiar relation to a phase of Nipponese mentality, as from the fact
that it contains all the machinery of the Nipponese ghost story. From
this point of view the reading of one of these tales disposes of a whole
class of the native literature. Difference of detail is found. But unless
the tale carries some particular interest, as of curious illustration of
customs or history--the excuse for a second presentation--a long course
of such reading becomes more than monotonous. It is unprofitable.
Curiously enough, it can be said that most Nipponese ghost stories are
true. When a sword is found enshrined, itself the malevolent
influence--as is the Muramasa blade of the Hamamatsu Suwa Jinja, the
subject of the Komatsu Onryu[u] of Matsubayashi Hakuchi--and with
such tradition attached to it, it is difficult to deny a basis of fact
attaching to the tradition. The ghost story becomes merely an
elaboration of an event that powerfully impressed the men of the day
and place. Moreover this naturalistic element can be detected in the
stories themselves. Nipponese writers of to-day explain most of them
by the word shinkei--"nerves"; the working of a guilty conscience

moulding succeeding events, and interpreting the results to the
subsequent disaster involved. The explanation is somewhat at variance
with the native Shinto[u] doctrine of the moral perfection of the
Nipponese, and its maxim--follow the dictates of one's heart; but that is
not our present concern.
Their theory, however, finds powerful support in the nature of the
Nipponese ghost. The Buddhist ghost does not remain on earth. It has
its travels and penalties to go through in the nether world, or its
residence in Paradise, before it begins a new life--somewhere. The
Shinto[u] ghost, in the vagueness of Shinto[u] theology, does remain on
earth. If of enough importance it is enshrined, and rarely goes abroad,
except when carried in procession at the time of the temple festival.
Otherwise it finds its home in the miniature shrine of the kami-dana or
god-shelf. There is a curious confusion of Nipponese thought on this
subject; at least among the mass of laity. At the Bon-Matsuri the dead
revisit the scene of their earthly sojourn for the space of three days; and
yet the worship of the ihai, or mortuary tablets, the food offerings with
ringing of the bell to call the attention of the resident Spirit is a daily
rite at the household Buddhist shrine (Butsudan). When, therefore, the
ghost does not conform to these well-regulated habits, it is because it is
an unhappy ghost. It is then the O'Baké or Bakémono, the haunting
ghost. Either it has become an unworshipped spirit, or, owing to some
atrocious injury in life, it stays to wander the earth, and to secure
vengeance on the living perpetrator. In most cases this is effected by
the grudge felt or spoken at the last moment of life. The mind,
concentrated in its hate and malice at this final crisis, secures to the
Spirit a continued and unhappy sojourn among the living, until the
vengeance be secured, the grudge satisfied, and the Spirit pacified.
There are other unhappy conditions of this revisiting of life's scenes; as
when the dead mother returns to nurse her infant, or the dead mistress
to console a lover. In the latter case, at least, the expressed affection has
a malignant effect, perhaps purpose--as in the Bo[u]tan Do[u]ro[u] of
Sanyu[u]tei Encho[u], a writer most careful in observing all the niceties
called for by the subject.
In the Nipponese ghost story the vengeful power of the ghost acts

through entirely natural means. The characters involved suffer through
their own delusions aroused by conscience. In the old days, and among
the common people in Nippon to-day, the supernatural was and is
believed in, with but few exceptions. Such stories still are held to be
fact, albeit the explanation is modern. Hence it can be said that the
"Yotsuya Kwaidan" is a true story. O'Iwa, the Lady of Tamiya, really
did exist in the Genroku and Ho[u]rei periods (1688-1710); just
ante-dating the reforming rule of the eighth Tokugawa Sho[u]gun,
Yoshimune Ko[u]. Victim of an atrocious plot of her husband and
others, she committed suicide with the vow to visit her rage upon all
engaged in the conspiracy. The shrine of the O'Iwa Inari (Fox-witched
O'Iwa) in Yotsuya was early erected (1717) to propitiate her wrathful
ghost; and the shrines of Nippon, to the shabbiest and meanest, have
their definite record. On the register the name of the husband appears as
Ibei; "probably correct," as Mr. Momogawa tells us. With him the
name of Iémon is retained in the present story. Iémon is the classic
example of the