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 Tōkyō, 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............