Ghosts and Goblins
It is scarcely less awesome to come across ghosts, goblins, and other supernatural beings in a Japanese picture. We find ghosts with long necks supporting horribly leering faces. Their necks are so long that it would seem that the ghastly heads could look above and into everything with a fiendish and dreadful relish. The ghoul, though represented in Japanese art as a three-year-old child, has reddish-brown hair, very long ears, and is often depicted as eating the kidneys of dead people. The horrible in this phase of Japanese art is emphasised to an almost unbearable degree, and a living Japanese artist's conception of a procession of ghosts[1] is so uncanny, so weird, that we certainly should not like to meet them in broad daylight, much less "through the dark night!"
A Garden of Skulls
The Japanese artist's conception of a garden, with its pine-trees, and stone lanterns, and azalea-bordered lakes, is usually extremely beautiful. Hiroshige, like so many Japanese artists, has painted a garden touched with snow; but in one of his pictures he portrays the snow as turning into a number of skulls, and has borrowed this fantastic conception from the Heike Monogatari.
It must not be thought that the Japanese artist, when portraying some supernatural being, or in depicting some scene from a legendary story, exclusively catches the grim and horrible. The grim and horrible are certainly portrayed with considerable spirit and dramatic force, but many of the Japanese works of art depict the Gods and Goddesses of Old Japan with much grace and charm.
The Dream of Rose[2]
Japanese ornament frequently illustrates some ancient legend. We may see on a certain tsuba (sword-guard) a pine-tree with people sitting in the branches. One man carries a banner, while two others are playing on musical instruments. There is an exquisite legend connected with this quaint design, and, though it is of Chinese origin, it deserves to find a place in this volume because it is one of those fantastic Chinese legends that has been woven into Japanese literature and art—has become, in short, one of the favourite themes of Japanese artists, and of those who witness the No, or lyrical drama, of Nippon.
Rosei, in ancient times, reached the little inn of Kantan, so weary with his travel that he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. It was no ordinary pillow, but might well be described as the Magic Pillow of Dreams, for directly Rosei was asleep an envoy approached him, and said: "I am sent by the Emperor of Ibara to inform you that his Majesty wishes to relinquish the throne and to install you in his place. Be pleased to enter the palanquin that awaits you, and the bearers will quickly carry you to the capital."
Rosei, much amazed by what he had heard and seen, entered the palanquin, "strewn with gems of radiant hue," and was borne to a wonderful country, best described in the following verse: