ABOUT TANABATA

ABOUT TANABATA

(From The Romance of the Milky Way, by Lafacadio Hearn)

Of old it was said: 'The River of Heaven is the Ghost of

Waters.' We behold it shifting its bed in the course of the

year as an earthly river sometimes does.

—Ancient Scholar

Among the many charming festivals celebrated by Old Japan, the most

romantic was the festival of Tanabata-sama, the Weaving-Lady of the

Milky Way. In the chief cities her holiday is now little observed; and

in Tokyo it is almost forgotten. But in many country districts,

and even in villages, near the capital, it is still celebrated in a

small way. If you happen to visit an old-fashioned country town or

village, on the seventh day of the seventh month (by the ancient

calendar), you will probably notice many freshly-cut bamboos fixed

upon the roofs of the houses, or planted in the ground beside them,

every bamboo having attached to it a number of strips of colored

paper. In some very poor villages you might find that these papers are

white, or of one color only; but the general rule is that the papers

should be of five or seven different colors. Blue, green, red, yellow,

and white are the tints commonly displayed. All these papers are

inscribed with short poems written in praise of Tanabata and her

husband Hikoboshi. After the festival the bamboos are taken down and

thrown into the nearest stream, together with the poems attached to

them.

To understand the romance of this old festival, you must know the

legend of those astral divinities to whom offerings used to be made,

even by, the Imperial Household, on the seventh day of the seventh

month. The legend is Chinese. This is the Japanese popular version of

it:-

The great god of the firmament had a lovely daughter, Tanabata-tsumé,

who passed her days in weaving garments for her august parent. She

rejoiced in her work, and thought that there was no greater pleasure

than the pleasure of weaving. But one day, as she sat before her loom

at the door of her heavenly dwelling, she saw a handsome peasant lad

pass by, leading an ox, and she fell in love with him. Her august

father, divining her secret wish, gave her the youth for a husband.

But the wedded lovers became too fond of each other, and neglected

their duty to the god of the firmament; the sound of the shuttle was

no longer heard, and the ox wandered, unheeded, over the plains of

heaven. Therefore the great god was displeased, and he separated the

pair. They were sentenced to live thereafter apart, with the Celestial

River between them; but it was permitted them to see each other once

a year, on the seventh night of the seventh moon. On that

night--providing the skies be clear--the birds of heaven make, with

their bodies and wings, a bridge over the stream; and by means of that

bridge the lovers can meet. But if there be rain, the River of Heaven

rises, and becomes so wide that the bridge cannot be formed. So the

husband and wife cannot always meet, even on the seventh night of

the seventh month; it may happen, by reason of bad weather, that they

cannot meet for three or four years at a time. But their love remains

immortally young and eternally patient; and they continue to fulfill

their respective duties each day without fault,--happy in their hope

of being able to meet on the seventh night of the next seventh month.

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