THE OGRE of RASHOMON

THE OGRE OF RASHOMON

Long, long ago in Kyoto, the people of the city were terrified by accounts of a

dreadful ogre, who, it was said, haunted the Gate of Rashomon at twilight and

seized whoever passed by. The missing victims were never seen again, so it was

whispered that the ogre was a horrible cannibal, who not only killed the

unhappy victims but ate them also. Now everybody in the town and neighborhood

was in great fear, and no one durst venture out after sunset near the Gate of

Rashomon.

Now at this time there lived in Kyoto a general named Raiko, who had made

himself famous for his brave deeds. Some time before this he made the country

ring with his name, for he had attacked Oeyama, where a band of ogres lived

with their chief, who instead of wine drank the blood of human beings. He had

routed them all and cut off the head of the chief monster.

This brave warrior was always followed by a band of faithful knights. In this

band there were five knights of great valor. One evening as the five knights

sat at a feast quaffing SAKE in their rice bowls and eating all kinds of fish,

raw, and stewed, and broiled, and toasting each other’s healths and

exploits, the first knight, Hojo, said to the others:

“Have you all heard the rumor that every evening after sunset there comes

an ogre to the Gate of Rashomon, and that he seizes all who pass by?”

The second knight, Watanabe, answered him, saying:

“Do not talk such nonsense! All the ogres were killed by our chief Raiko

at Oeyama! It cannot be true, because even if any ogres did escape from that

great killing they would not dare to show themselves in this city, for they

know that our brave master would at once attack them if he knew that any of

them were still alive!”

“Then do you disbelieve what I say, and think that I am telling you a

falsehood?”

“No, I do not think that you are telling a lie,” said Watanabe;

“but you have heard some old woman’s story which is not worth

believing.”

“Then the best plan is to prove what I say, by going there yourself and

finding out yourself whether it is true or not,” said Hojo.

Watanabe, the second knight, could not bear the thought that his companion

should believe he was afraid, so he answered quickly:

“Of course, I will go at once and find out for myself!”

So Watanabe at once got ready to go—he buckled on his long sword and put

on a coat of armor, and tied on his large helmet. When he was ready to start he

said to the others:

“Give me something so that I can prove I have been there!”

Then one of the men got a roll of writing paper and his box of Indian ink and

brushes, and the four comrades wrote their names on a piece of paper.

“I will take this,” said Watanabe, “and put it on the Gate of

Rashomon, so to-morrow morning will you all go and look at it? I may be able to

catch an ogre or two by then!” and he mounted his horse and rode off

gallantly.

It was a very dark night, and there was neither moon nor star to light Watanabe

on his way. To make the darkness worse a storm came on, the rain fell heavily

and the wind howled like wolves in the mountains. Any ordinary man would have

trembled at the thought of going out of doors, but Watanabe was a brave warrior

and dauntless, and his honor and word were at stake, so he sped on into the

night, while his companions listened to the sound of his horse’s hoofs

dying away in the distance, then shut the sliding shutters close and gathered

round the charcoal fire and wondered what would happen—and whether their

comrade would encounter one of those horrible Oni.

At last Watanabe reached the Gate of Rashomon, but peer as he might through the

darkness he could see no sign of an ogre.

“It is just as I thought,” said Watanabe to himself; “there

are certainly no ogres here; it is only an old woman’s story. I will

stick this paper on the gate so that the others can see I have been here when

they come to-morrow, and then I will take my way home and laugh at them

all.”

He fastened the piece of paper, signed by all his four companions, on the gate,

and then turned his horse’s head towards home.

As he did so he became aware that some one was behind him, and at the same time

a voice called out to him to wait. Then his helmet was seized from the back.

“Who are you?” said Watanabe fearlessly. He then put out his hand

and groped around to find out who or what it was that held him by the helmet.

As he did so he touched something that felt like an arm—it was covered

with hair and as big round as the trunk of a tree!

Watanabe knew at once that this was the arm of an ogre, so he drew his sword

and cut at it fiercely.

There was a loud yell of pain, and then the ogre dashed in front of the

warrior.

Watanabe’s eyes grew large with wonder, for he saw that the ogre was

taller than the great gate, his eyes were flashing like mirrors in the

sunlight, and his huge mouth was wide open, and as the monster breathed, flames

of fire shot out of his mouth.

The ogre thought to terrify his foe, but Watanabe never flinched. He attacked

the ogre with all his strength, and thus they fought face to face for a long

time. At last the ogre, finding that he could neither frighten nor beat

Watanabe and that he might himself be beaten, took to flight. But Watanabe,

determined not to let the monster escape, put spurs to his horse and gave

chase.

But though the knight rode very fast the ogre ran faster, and to his

disappointment he found himself unable to overtake the monster, who was

gradually lost to sight.

Watanabe returned to the gate where the fierce fight had taken place, and got

down from his horse. As he did so he stumbled upon something lying on the

ground.

Stooping to pick it up he found that it was one of the ogre’s huge arms

which he must have slashed off in the fight. His joy was great at having

secured such a prize, for this was the best of all proofs of his adventure with

the ogre. So he took it up carefully and carried it home as a trophy of his

victory.

When he got back, he showed the arm to his comrades, who one and all called him

the hero of their band and gave him a great feast. His wonderful deed was soon

noised abroad in Kyoto, and people from far and near came to see the

ogre’s arm.

Watanabe now began to grow uneasy as to how he should keep the arm in safety,

for he knew that the ogre to whom it belonged was still alive. He felt sure

that one day or other, as soon as the ogre got over his scare, he would come to

try to get his arm back again. Watanabe therefore had a box made of the

strongest wood and banded with iron. In this he placed the arm, and then he

sealed down the heavy lid, refusing to open it for anyone. He kept the box in

his own room and took charge of it himself, never allowing it out of his sight.

Now one night he heard some one knocking at the porch, asking for admittance.

When the servant went to the door to see who it was, there was only an old

woman, very respectable in appearance. On being asked who she was and what was

her business, the old woman replied with a smile that she had been nurse to the

master of the house when he was a little baby. If the lord of the house were at

home she begged to be allowed to see him.

The servant left the old woman at the door and went to tell his master that his

old nurse had come to see him. Watanabe thought it strange that she should come

at that time of night, but at the thought of his old nurse, who had been like a

foster-mother to him and whom he had not seen for a long time, a very tender

feeling sprang up for her in his heart. He ordered the servant to show her in.

The old woman was ushered into the room, and after the customary bows and

greetings were over, she said:

“Master, the report of your brave fight with the ogre at the Gate of

Rashomon is so widely known that even your poor old nurse has heard of it. Is

it really true, what every one says, that you cut off one of the ogre’s

arms? If you did, your deed is highly to be praised!”

“I was very disappointed,” said Watanabe, “that I was not

able take the monster captive, which was what I wished to do, instead of only

cutting off an arm!”

“I am very proud to think,” answered the old woman, “that my

master was so brave as to dare to cut off an ogre’s arm. There is nothing

that can be compared to your courage. Before I die it is the great wish of my

life to see this arm,” she added pleadingly.

“No,” said Watanabe, “I am sorry, but I cannot grant your

request.”

“But why?” asked the old woman.

“Because,” replied Watanabe, “ogres are very revengeful

creatures, and if I open the box there is no telling but that the ogre may

suddenly appear and carry off his arm. I have had a box made on purpose with a

very strong lid, and in this box I keep the ogre’s arm secure; and I

never show it to any one, whatever happens.”

“Your precaution is very reasonable,” said the old woman.

“But I am your old nurse, so surely you will not refuse to show ME the

arm. I have only just heard of your brave act, and not being able to wait till

the morning I came at once to ask you to show it to me.”

Watanabe was very troubled at the old woman’s pleading, but he still

persisted in refusing. Then the old woman said:

“Do you suspect me of being a spy sent by the ogre?”

“No, of course I do not suspect you of being the ogre’s spy, for

you are my old nurse,” answered Watanabe.

“Then you cannot surely refuse to show me the arm any longer.”

entreated the old woman; “for it is the great wish of my heart to see for

once in my life the arm of an ogre!”

Watanabe could not hold out in his refusal any longer, so he gave in at last,

saying:

“Then I will show you the ogre’s arm, since you so earnestly wish

to see it. Come, follow me!” and he led the way to his own room, the old

woman following.

When they were both in the room Watanabe shut the door carefully, and then

going towards a big box which stood in a corner of the room, he took off the

heavy lid. He then called to the old woman to come near and look in, for he

never took the arm out of the box.

“What is it like? Let me have a good look at it,” said the old

nurse, with a joyful face.

She came nearer and nearer, as if she were afraid, till she stood right against

the box. Suddenly she plunged her hand into the box and seized the arm, crying

with a fearful voice which made the room shake:

“Oh, joy! I have got my arm back again!”

And from an old woman she was suddenly transformed into the towering figure of

the frightful ogre!

Watanabe sprang back and was unable to move for a moment, so great was his

astonishment; but recognizing the ogre who had attacked him at the Gate of

Rashomon, he determined with his usual courage to put an end to him this time.

He seized his sword, drew it out of its sheath in a flash, and tried to cut the

ogre down.

So quick was Watanabe that the creature had a narrow escape. But the ogre

sprang up to the ceiling, and bursting through the roof, disappeared in the

mist and clouds.

In this way the ogre escaped with his arm. The knight gnashed his teeth with

disappointment, but that was all he could do. He waited in patience for another

opportunity to dispatch the ogre. But the latter was afraid of Watanabe’s

great strength and daring, and never troubled Kyoto again. So once more the

people of the city were able to go out without fear even at night time, and the

brave deeds of Watanabe have never been forgotten!

HOW AN OLD MAN LOST HIS WEN Many, many years ago there lived a good old man who had a wen like a

tennis-ball growing out of his right cheek. This lump was a great disfigurement

to the old man, and so annoyed him that for many years he spent all his time

and money in trying to get rid of it. He tried everything he could think of. He

consulted many doctors far and near, and took all kinds of medicines both

internally and externally. But it was all of no use. The lump only grew bigger

and bigger till it was nearly as big as his face, and in despair he gave up all

hopes of ever losing it, and resigned himself to the thought of having to carry

the lump on his face all his life. One day the firewood gave out in his kitchen, so, as his wife wanted some at

once, the old man took his ax and set out for the woods up among the hills not

very far from his home. It was a fine day in the early autumn, and the old man

enjoyed the fresh air and was in no hurry to get home. So the whole afternoon

passed quickly while he was chopping wood, and he had collected a goodly pile

to take back to his wife. When the day began to draw to a close, he turned his

face homewards. The old man had not gone far on his way down the mountain pass when the sky

clouded and rain began to fall heavily. He looked about for some shelter, but

there was not even a charcoal-burner’s hut near. At last he espied a

large hole in the hollow trunk of a tree. The hole was near the ground, so he

crept in easily, and sat down in hopes that he had only been overtaken by a

mountain shower, and that the weather would soon clear. But much to the old man’s disappointment, instead of clearing the rain

fell more and more heavily, and finally a heavy thunderstorm broke over the

mountain. The thunder roared so terrifically, and the heavens seemed to be so

ablaze with lightning, that the old man could hardly believe himself to be

alive. He thought that he must die of fright. At last, however, the sky

cleared, and the whole country was aglow in the rays of the setting sun. The

old man’s spirits revived when he looked out at the beautiful twilight,

and he was about to step out from his strange hiding-place in the hollow tree

when the sound of what seemed like the approaching steps of several people

caught his ear. He at once thought that his friends had come to look for him,

and he was delighted at the idea of having some jolly companions with whom to

walk home. But on looking out from the tree, what was his amazement to see, not

his friends, but hundreds of demons coming towards the spot. The more he

looked, the greater was his astonishment. Some of these demons were as large as

giants, others had great big eyes out of all proportion to the rest of their

bodies, others again had absurdly long noses, and some had such big mouths that

they seemed to open from ear to ear. All had horns growing on their foreheads.

The old man was so surprised at what he saw that he lost his balance and fell

out of the hollow tree. Fortunately for him the demons did not see him, as the

tree was in the background. So he picked himself up and crept back into the

tree. While he was sitting there and wondering impatiently when he would be able to

get home, he heard the sounds of gay music, and then some of the demons began

to sing. “What are these creatures doing?” said the old man to himself.

“I will look out, it sounds very amusing.” On peeping out, the old man saw that the demon chief himself was actually

sitting with his back against the tree in which he had taken refuge, and all

the other demons were sitting round, some drinking and some dancing. Food and

wine was spread before them on the ground, and the demons were evidently having

a great entertainment and enjoying themselves immensely. It made the old man laugh to see their strange antics. “How amusing this is!” laughed the old man to himself “I am

now quite old, but I have never seen anything so strange in all my life.” He was so interested and excited in watching all that the demons were doing,

that he forgot himself and stepped out of the tree and stood looking on. The demon chief was just taking a big cup of SAKE and watching one of the

demons dancing. In a little while he said with a bored air: “Your dance is rather monotonous. I am tired of watching it. Isn’t

there any one amongst you all who can dance better than this fellow?” Now the old man had been fond of dancing all his life, and was quite an expert

in the art, and he knew that he could do much better than the demon. “Shall I go and dance before these demons and let them see what a human

being can do? It may be dangerous, for if I don’t please them they may

kill me!” said the old fellow to himself. His fears, however, were soon overcome by his love of dancing. In a few minutes

he could restrain himself no longer, and came out before the whole party of

demons and began to dance at once. The old man, realizing that his life

probably depended on whether he pleased these strange creatures or not, exerted

his skill and wit to the utmost. The demons were at first very surprised to see a man so fearlessly taking part

in their entertainment, and then their surprise soon gave place to admiration. “How strange!” exclaimed the horned chief. “I never saw such

a skillful dancer before! He dances admirably!” When the old man had finished his dance, the big demon said: “Thank you very much for your amusing dance. Now give us the pleasure of

drinking a cup of wine with us,” and with these words he handed him his

largest wine-cup. The old man thanked him very humbly: “I did not expect such kindness from your lordship. I fear I have only

disturbed your pleasant party by my unskillful dancing.” “No, no,” answered the big demon. “You must come often and

dance for us. Your skill has given us much pleasure.” The old man thanked him again and promised to do so. “Then will you come again to-morrow, old man?” asked the demon. “Certainly, I will,” answered the old man. “Then you must leave some pledge of your word with us,” said the

demon. “Whatever you like,” said the old man. “Now what is the best thing he can leave with us as a pledge?”

asked the demon, looking round. Then said one of the demon’s attendants kneeling behind the chief: “The token he leaves with us must be the most important thing to him in

his possession. I see the old man has a wen on his right cheek. Now mortal men

consider such a wen very fortunate. Let my lord take the lump from the old

man’s right cheek, and he will surely come to-morrow, if only to get that

back.” “You are very clever,” said the demon chief, giving his horns an

approving nod. Then he stretched out a hairy arm and claw-like hand, and took

the great lump from the old man’s right cheek. Strange to say, it came

off as easily as a ripe plum from the tree at the demon’s touch, and then

the merry troop of demons suddenly vanished. The old man was lost in bewilderment by all that had happened. He hardly knew

for some time where he was. When he came to understand what had happened to

him, he was delighted to find that the lump on his face, which had for so many

years disfigured him, had really been taken away without any pain to himself.

He put up his hand to feel if any scar remained, but found that his right cheek

was as smooth as his left. The sun had long set, and the young moon had risen like a silver crescent in

the sky. The old man suddenly realized how late it was and began to hurry home.

He patted his right cheek all the time, as if to make sure of his good fortune

in having lost the wen. He was so happy that he found it impossible to walk

quietly—he ran and danced the whole way home. He found his wife very anxious, wondering what had happened to make him so

late. He soon told her all that had passed since he left home that afternoon.

She was quite as happy as her husband when he showed her that the ugly lump had

disappeared from his face, for in her youth she had prided herself on his good

looks, and it had been a daily grief to her to see the horrid growth. Now next door to this good old couple there lived a wicked and disagreeable old

man. He, too, had for many years been troubled with the growth of a wen on his

left cheek, and he, too, had tried all manner of things to get rid of it, but

in vain. He heard at once, through the servant, of his neighbor’s good luck in

losing the lump on his face, so he called that very evening and asked his

friend to tell him everything that concerned the loss of it. The good old man

told his disagreeable neighbor all that had happened to him. He described the

place where he would find the hollow tree in which to hide, and advised him to

be on the spot in the late afternoon towards the time of sunset. The old neighbor started out the very next afternoon, and after hunting about

for some time, came to the hollow tree just as his friend had described. Here

he hid himself and waited for the twilight. Just as he had been told, the band of demons came at that hour and held a feast

with dance and song. When this had gone on for some time the chief of the

demons looked around and said: “It is now time for the old man to come as he promised us. Why

doesn’t he come?” When the second old man heard these words he ran out of his hiding-place in the

tree and, kneeling down before the Oni, said: “I have been waiting for a long time for you to speak!” “Ah, you are the old man of yesterday,” said the demon chief.

“Thank you for coming, you must dance for us soon.” The old man now stood up and opened his fan and began to dance. But he had

never learned to dance, and knew nothing about the necessary gestures and

different positions. He thought that anything would please the demons, so he

just hopped about, waving his arms and stamping his feet, imitating as well as

he could any dancing he had ever seen. The Oni were very dissatisfied at this exhibition, and said amongst themselves: “How badly he dances to-day!” Then to the old man the demon chief said: “Your performance to-day is quite different from the dance of yesterday.

We don’t wish to see any more of such dancing. We will give you back the

pledge you left with us. You must go away at once.” With these words he took out from a fold of his dress the lump which he had

taken from the face of the old man who had danced so well the day before, and

threw it at the right cheek of the old man who stood before him. The lump

immediately attached itself to his cheek as firmly as if it had grown there

always, and all attempts to pull it off were useless. The wicked old man,

instead of losing the lump on his left cheek as he had hoped, found to his

dismay that he had but added another to his right cheek in his attempt to get

rid of the first. He put up first one hand and then the other to each side of his face to make

sure if he were not dreaming a horrible nightmare. No, sure enough there was

now a great wen on the right side of his face as on the left. The demons had

all disappeared, and there was nothing for him to do but to return home. He was

a pitiful sight, for his face, with the two large lumps, one on each side,

looked just like a Japanese gourd.