Tag: 16. Eternal Life and Mortality

Themes of immortality or the brevity of life

The woman who married a ghost

A wealthy man’s daughter elopes with a ghost who appears as a handsome man. She becomes the wife of two ghosts in Ghost-land, an underground realm. When visiting her family, the girl perceives her husbands as men, while her family sees only skulls. Her father persuades the ghosts to leave by offering goods. Later, the girl dies and permanently joins her husbands in Ghost-land.

Source: 
Tahltan Tales
by James A. Teit
The American Folklore Society
Journal of American Folklore
Vol.32, No.124, pp.198-250
April-June, 1917
Vol.34, No.133, pp.223-253
July-September, 1921
Vol.34, No.134, pp.335-356
October-December, 1921

► Themes of the story

Love and Betrayal: The story explores unconventional romantic bonds between a mortal woman and her ghostly husbands, highlighting the complexities of love that transcends the mortal realm.

Underworld Journey: The protagonist’s venture into Ghost-land, depicted as an underground domain, represents a journey into the realm of the dead.

Eternal Life and Mortality: The tale delves into themes of life, death, and the afterlife, particularly through the woman’s transition from the mortal world to Ghost-land and her eventual death to permanently join her ghostly spouses.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about Tahltan people

Once an adolescent girl was living apart from the people. She was the daughter of a wealthy man who had much property and many slaves. One night a ghost asked her to elope with him. She consented to be his wife, as he appeared to her as a good-looking man. He took her to Ghost-land, which was underground, and not far away. As the girl did not appear in the morning, the people thought she was asleep, and her father sent some one to waken her. They found her place empty, and thought she must have eloped with some man. Her father sent slaves to search in all the houses, and he counted all the men. She could not be found anywhere. When the girl arrived in Ghost-land, she became the wife of two men. She had plenty to eat, as the Ghosts were good hunters. After a while her husbands said, “Let us go and see your people! Probably you would like to visit your father.” They went to her father’s house and stood outside.

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The people said to her father, “Your daughter has come.” He told them to tell her to come in, and, if she had any husband, to invite him in also. They made places for them in the house, and the girl entered with two skulls rolling behind her. She took her seat, and the skulls took places one on each side of her. Her father told the slaves to cook food for them and to give them to eat. All the people kept looking at the skulls, and could not eat. The girl could not see any skulls, but instead two good-looking men. On the other hand, the people could not see any men, but only the skulls. The ghosts ate with their wife, and conversed with her; but the people could not hear them. The girl asked her father if her husbands might go hunting in one of his canoes. He told them to use a canoe that was on the river. When night came, the ghosts left, and took the canoe. They camped over one day, [day was the same as night to us, for they travelled and hunted at night] and returned the following night. They came rolling into the house, as before. The girl was glad to see them, and told her father that there was meat in the canoe. He went to see for himself, and, finding it quite full, he ordered his slaves to carry the meat up to the house. The girl told her father that her husbands said they would leave soon, and they wished to know whether he would allow her to go with them. Her father asked if they would return some time; and she answered, “No, we shall not come back.” Her father said, “Well, you must not go with them. I will pay them with much property, and they must leave you.” He made a pile of goods, and gave it to them before they retired to sleep with their wife. On the following morning they were gone, and the goods had also disappeared. This is why nowadays, if a husband ill-treats his wife, her father takes her back, and pays the husband for releasing her. The girl staid with her father, but seemed to think much of Ghost-land. She told that it was a good land, better than here, and the people were good. They did not quarrel and fight. Her father said, “Yes, I know, but the people there are ghosts.” She would not believe this. Before leaving, her husbands had told her they would come back for her soon. They meant that she was going to die. After a while she died, and went to Ghost-land to remain there as a ghost.

The ghosts who live underground are always seen as skulls rolling along the ground. People are afraid of them; for when they are seen, many deaths will occur. Other ghosts are like shadows, and harmless.

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El

The greater part of the Tlingit recognize as the Supreme Being a deity by the name of El. El, in their belief, is all powerful; he created everything in the world: the earth, human beings, and vegetation. He obtained the sun, moon, and stars. He loves people, but often, in his anger, sends on them epidemics and misfortunes. El existed before he was born; he neither ages nor will ever die. His home is in the interior of North America. He has a son, but the circumstances and time of his birth are not known. The son loves people more than El, and often by interceding with the father delivers them from his anger. El’s life, words, and deeds while among the people constitute the Golden Rule of the Tlingit. “Just as El lived and acted, so we live,” say the Tlingit.

Source: 
Tlingit Myths
by Frank Alfred Golder
The American Folklore Society
Journal of American Folklore
vol.20, no.79, pp. 290-295
October-December, 1907

► Themes of the story

Creation: El is credited with creating the earth, humans, and vegetation, highlighting the theme of how the world or life began.

Divine Intervention: El, as an all-powerful deity, influences mortal affairs by sending epidemics and misfortunes in anger, demonstrating the gods’ influence on human lives.

Eternal Life and Mortality: El is described as existing before birth, never aging, and being immortal, contrasting with human mortality.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about Tlingit people

There was a time, say the followers of El, when there was no light, and all the people lived and moved in the darkness. At that time lived a certain man who had a wife and a sister. He loved his wife to such an extent that he would not allow her to do any kind of work; and she spent the day cither sitting in the house, or sunning herself on the hillock outside. She had eight little red birds, four on each side of her, who were always near her, and who would instantly leave her if there was any familiarity between her and any man except her husband. Of such a jealous disposition was her husband, that, whenever he went away, he locked her in a chest. Every day he went to the forest, where he made boats and canoes, being very proficient in such work.

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His sister, who was called Kitchuginsi (daughter of a sea-swallow), had several sons (it is not known by whom); but the jealous uncle, as soon as they reached manhood, destroyed them. Some say that he took them out to sea and drowned them; but others say that he scaled them up in a hollow log. The helpless mother could only weep for her children. One day when she was sitting on the beach, mourning over a son, who disappeared in the usual way, she saw a school of small whales passing by, and one of them coming in closer, stopped and started a conversation with her. When he had learned the cause of her grief, he told her to throw herself into the sea and from the bottom bring up a pebble, swallow it, and wash it down with a little sea-water. So soon as the whale departed, Kitchuginsi went down to the bottom of the sea, fetched up a small pebble, swallowed it, and drank some sea-water. The effect of this extraordinary dose was that she conceived, and in eight months gave birth to a son, whom she considered an ordinary mortal, but he was El. Kitchuginsi, before giving birth to El, hid herself away from her brother in a secret place.

When El began to grow up, his mother made him a bow and arrows and instructed him in the use of them. El liked this kind of exercise, and soon became such an excellent shot that not a bird could fly by him; and from the hummingbirds alone that he killed his mother made herself a parka; and to fully indulge his passion for the chase he made a hunting-barrabara. Sitting there one morning in the early dawn, he saw that directly in front of his door sat a large bird resembling a magpie, with a long tail and a long and thin bill, bright and strong as iron. El killed her instantly and carefully skinned her, as is usually done for stuffing, and put the skin on himself. He had no sooner done this when he felt the desire and ability to fly, and immediately flew up, and soared so high and with such a force that his bill pierced into the clouds, and he was held there so strongly that with difficulty he extricated himself. After that he flew back to his barrabara, took off his skin and hid it. At another time and in the same manner he killed a duck, and, taking off her skin, put it on his mother, who instantly received the ability to swim.

When El reached full growth, his mother told him of all his uncle’s doings. El, as soon as he heard about them, went to his uncle’s, and at the time when he is usually at his work. Going into the barrabara, he opened the chest in which his uncle’s wife was kept, and debauched her; the birds instantly deserted her. The uncle, returning from his work and seeing all that happened, became extremely angry; but El sat very quietly and did not even move from his place. Then the uncle, calling him outside, seated himself with him in a canoe, and went with him to a place where many sea-monsters gathered; there he threw him into the sea, and thought that he had again got rid of a rival. But El walked on the bottom of the sea till he came to the shore, and reappeared before his uncle.

The uncle, seeing that he could not destroy his nephew in the usual way, said, in his anger: “Let there be a flood.” The sea began to overflow its banks and rose higher and higher. El put on his magpie skin and flew up into the clouds, and, as before, pierced them with his bill, and hung there suspended until the water, which had covered all the mountains, even reaching so high that his tail and wings were wet, subsided entirely. He then began to descend as lightly as a feather, and thinking, “Ah, if I could only drop on some good place,” and he dropped there where the sun goes down. But he fell not on land, but into the sea, on the kelp; from there a sea-otter brought him safely away. Others say that he fell on the Queen Charlotte Islands, and. taking in his bill chips of the fir-tree, flew away to other islands, and where he dropped the chips there trees grow; and when he did not there they are not.

On coming to land again after the flood, El went towards the east, and in one place finding some dead boys, brought them to life by tickling them in the nose with hair which he had pulled out from a certain woman; in another place he set the sea-gull and heron to quarrel, and in this manner obtained a smelt fish which he afterwards exchanged for a canoe and other things. But of all his adventures and doings, which are so numerous that it is impossible for one man to know them all, the most remarkable is the way he obtained the light.

At the time when the above-mentioned wonders were worked there was no light on the earth; it was in the possession of a rich and powerful chief, being kept in three small boxes, which he guarded jealously and did not permit any one even to touch them. El, learning this, wished above all things to obtain the light, and he obtained it.

That chief had an only daughter, a virgin, whom he loved dearly, indulged, and tended, even to the extent of carefully examining her food and drink before she used it. There was no other way to obtain the light from the chief except by becoming his grandson, and El concluded to be born of his daughter. To accomplish his end was not difficult for him; since he could assume the shape of any object that he desired, — birds, fish, grass, etc., appearing as crow the oftenest, however. In this case he changed himself into a tiny piece of grass, and stuck to the side of the cup out of which the chief’s daughter drank, and when she, after the usual examination, began drinking, it slid down her throat. Small though it was, she felt that she had swallowed something, and she tried hard but unsuccessfully to bring it up. The result, of all this was that she conceived; and, when the time came around for her to give birth, the chief ordered to be placed under her sea-otter skins and other valuable things. But the woman could not give birth, although her father and others assisted her in every known way. Finally a very old woman took her into the forest, where she made a bed of moss for her under a tree and laid her on it; and just as soon as she lay on it she gave birth to a son.

No one even suspected that the new-born child was El; the grandfather was delighted with his grandson, and loved him even more than his daughter. One day, after El commenced to understand a little, he set up a loud bawl and no one nor anything could quiet him. No matter what was given him, he threw it away and cried louder than before, and kept reaching out and pointing to the three little boxes which contained the heavenly lights. They could not be given to him without the permission of the chief, and he would not for a long time consent; at last he was obliged to give the boy one of the boxes. He immediately me quiet and happy, and began playing with it. A little later he took it out-of-doors, and, when unobserved, opened it and instantly stars appeared in the sky. Seeing this, the chief regretted the loss of treasure, but he did not reprove the boy. In the same cunning manner El obtained the second box, in which the moon was kept, and opened it; he even cried for the last and most precious box, containing the sun. The chief would not indulge him any longer; El did not leave off crying and bawling, refused to eat and drink, and consequently became ill. To humor him, the tender grandfather gave him the last box too, and ordered that he be watched and prevented from opening it; but El, as soon as he came outside, changed himself into a crow, flew away with the box, and appeared on the earth.

In passing over one place, El heard human voices, but could see no one; for the sun was not yet. El asked them: “Who are you; and would you like to have light?” “You are deceiving us,” they said; “you are not El, who is the only one that can make light.” To convince the unbelievers, El opened the box, and at once the sun in all his splendor appeared in the sky. At this sight the people scattered themselves in all directions, some to the forests and became beasts, others to the trees and became birds, still others to the waters and became fishes.

There was no fire on the earth, but on an island in the mid-sea. Thither El, dressed in his magpie skin, flew, and snatching a live brand, he hastened back. But the distance was so great that by the time the mainland was reached the brand and half of his bill were nearly consumed. Near the shore he dropped the brand, and the sparks were blown on to the rocks and trees. This explains why fire is found in these substances.

Until El’s time there was no fresh water on the mainland and islands, with one exception. On this island, situated not far from Cape Ommaney, was a small well of fresh water guarded by Kanuk, the hero and ancestor of the Wolf tribe of the Tlingit. El went over there, and taking in his bill as much water as it would hold, and after suffering racking tortures, flew back to the mainland of America. While flying over the earth, the water dripped on the land; where small drops fell springs and creek appeared, and the larger drops formed lakes and rivers.

At last El, providing the people with all the necessaries, went to his home, Nasshakiel, which is inaccessible both to men and spirits, as is shown from the following. One daring spirit undertook to go there, and as a punishment had his left side turned to stone; for in flying forward he looked on the left side where El’s palace was. The left side of the spirit’s mask, which was at the time in possession of the shaman at Chilkat, also became stone.

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The Two Bundles

A man in the forest encounters a little man offering two bundles: a large one with material goods and a small one containing eternal life. While seeking advice from his village, women arrive and choose the large bundle, enchanted by its trinkets. The little man vanishes with the smaller bundle, leaving death as humanity’s fate. Regret persists, as the choice sealed mortality forever.

Source
Among Congo Cannibals
by John H. Weeks
Seeley, Service & Co.,London, 1913

► Themes of the story

Forbidden Knowledge: The small bundle containing eternal life represents hidden truths that, if chosen, could have altered human destiny.

Eternal Life and Mortality: The choice between the two bundles directly impacts the fate of humanity, emphasizing the themes of immortality and the brevity of life.

Echoes of the Past: The tale reflects on ancestral decisions that have lasting impacts on present and future generations.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about Bantu peoples

The following story also gives the reason for the continuance of death in the world. It was told me by a friend who lived for many years among the Balolo tribe at Bolengi (Equatorville district), about fifty or sixty miles below Monsembe.

While a man was working one day in the forest a little man with two bundles—one large and one small—went to him and asked: “Which of these two bundles will you have? This one” (taking up the large bundle) “contains looking-glasses, knives, beads, cloth, etc.; or this one” (taking up the little one) “contains lasting life.”

“I cannot choose by myself,” answered the man; “I must go and ask the other people in the town.”

While he was gone to ask the other people some women arrived, and the choice was put to them. The women tried the edges of the knives, bedecked themselves in the cloth, admired themselves in the looking-glasses, and without more ado they selected the big bundle and took it away.

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The little man, picking up the small bundle, vanished.

On the return of the man from the town both the little man and his bundles had disappeared. The women exhibited and shared the things, but death continued on the earth. Hence the people say: “Oh, if those women had only chosen the small bundle, we folk would not be dying like this!”

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Nkengo Fails to Obtain Lasting Life

Nkengo, son of Libuta, sought eternal life from the Cloud-folk after witnessing widespread death on earth. They required him to stay awake for seven days. Despite enduring six days without sleep, he succumbed on the seventh, angering the Cloud-folk, who banished him back to earth. His failure, mocked by others, marked humanity’s loss of eternal life and the continuation of death in the world.

Source
Among Congo Cannibals
by John H. Weeks
Seeley, Service & Co.,London, 1913

► Themes of the story

Eternal Life and Mortality: Nkengo’s pursuit of immortality and his ultimate failure highlight humanity’s inevitable mortality.

Forbidden Quest: Nkengo’s journey to the Cloud-folk in search of eternal life represents a pursuit beyond human limitations.

Divine Punishment: Nkengo’s inability to complete the task results in the Cloud-folk condemning him and all humanity to mortality.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about Bantu peoples

Nkengo was the son of Libuta, and he noticed that the people were dying daily in great numbers. So one day he called out loudly: “You Cloud-folk, throw me down a rope!” The Cloud-folk heard and threw him a rope. Nkengo held on to it and was pulled up to the Cloud-land. When he arrived there Nkengo had to wait one day, and in the morning the Cloud-folk said to him: “You have come here to receive lasting life (lobiku) and escape from death. You cannot make your request for seven days, and in the meantime you must not go to sleep.”

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Nkengo was able to keep awake for six days, but on the seventh day he nodded and went to sleep. The Cloud-folk woke him up, saying: “You came here to receive lasting life and escape from death. You were able to keep awake six days. Why did you abandon your purpose on the seventh day?” They were so angry with him that they drove him out of Cloud-land and lowered him to the earth.

The people on the earth asked him what had happened up above, and Nkengo replied: “When I reached Cloud-land they told me that in order to gain lasting life I must keep awake for seven days. I did not sleep for six days and six nights; but on the seventh day I nodded in sleep; whereupon they drove me out, saying: “Get away with your dying; you shall not receive lasting life, for every day there shall be death among you! “

His friends laughed at him because he went to receive lasting life and lost it through sleeping. That is the reason why death continues in the world.

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The Wind in the Pine Tree

A divine Pine Tree planted by a heavenly deity at Takasaga becomes sacred, home to spirits of wood, water, air, and sea foam. A maiden and a youth, drawn by destiny, unite under its boughs. They grow old together, yet in death, transform into youthful, eternal beings, ascending through the Pine Tree’s branches, where the wind eternally sings of love and life’s mysteries.

Source
Japanese Fairy Tales
by Grace James
Macmillan & Co., London, 1912

► Themes of the story

Sacred Spaces: The Pine Tree, planted by a heavenly deity, becomes a sacred site inhabited by various spirits, symbolizing a holy and haunted place.

Eternal Life and Mortality: Their transformation in death into youthful, eternal beings signifies themes of immortality and the transcendence of life.

Transformation: The metamorphosis of the lovers into eternal beings illustrates a significant change, both physical and spiritual.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about Japanese Mythology & Folklore

It was a Deity from High Heaven that planted the Pine Tree.

So long ago that the crane cannot remember it, and the tortoise knows it only by hearsay from his great-grandmother, the heavenly deity descended. Lightly, lightly he came by way of the Floating Bridge, bearing the tree in his right hand. Lightly, lightly his feet touched the earth.

He said, “I have come to the Land of the Reed Plains. I have come to the Land of Fresh Rice Ears. It is a good land; I am satisfied.”

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And he planted the Pine Tree within the sound of the sea at Takasaga, which is in the Province of Harima. Then he went up again to High Heaven by way of the Floating Bridge.

But the Pine Tree flourished. So great it grew, there was not a greater in all the Land of the Reed Plains. Its trunk was rosy red, and beneath it spread a brown carpet of fallen needles.

In the sweet nights of summer the Children of the Woods came hand in hand to the Pine Tree by moonlight, slipping their slim dark feet upon the moss, and tossing back their long green hair.

The Children of the Water came by moonlight, all drenching wet their sleeves, and the bright drops fell from their finger-tips. The Children of the Air rested in the Pine Tree’s branches, and made murmuring music all the live-long night. The Children of the Sea Foam crept up the yellow sands; and from the confines of Yomi came the Mysteries, the Sounds and the Scents of the Dark–with faces veiled and thin grey forms, they came, and they hung upon the air about the place where the Pine Tree was, so that the place was holy and haunted.

Lovers wandering upon the beach at Takasaga would hear the great company of Spirits singing together.

“Joy of my heart,” they said to one another, “do you hear the wind in the Pine Tree?”

Poor souls lying sick a-bed would listen, and fishermen far out at sea would pause in their labour to whisper, “The wind, the wind in the Pine Tree! How the sound carries over the water!”

As for the coming of the Maiden, the crane cannot remember it, but the tortoise has it of his great-grandmother that she was born of poor parents in Takasaga. The Maiden was brown and tall and slender; in face and form most lovely. Her hair hung down to her knees. She rose at dawn to help her mother; she found sticks for the fire, she drew water at the well. She could spin and weave with the best; and for long, long hours she sat and plied her wheel or her shuttle in the shade of the great Pine Tree, whilst her ears heard the sound of the wind in its branches. Sometimes her eyes looked out over the paths of the sea, as one who waits and watches. She was calm, not restless, more grave than gay, though she smiled not seldom. Her voice was the voice of a Heavenly Being.

Now concerning the Youth from the far province, of him the crane knows something, for the crane is a great traveller. She was flying over the streams and the valleys of the far province, so she says, when she saw the Youth at work in the green rice-fields. The crane lingered, circling slowly in the bright air. The Youth stood up. He looked round upon the valleys and streams; he looked into the sky.

“I hear the call,” he said. “I may tarry no longer. Voice in my heart, I hear and I obey.”

With that he left the rice-field, and bade farewell to his mother and his father and his sisters and his brothers and his friends. All together, they came down to the seashore, weeping and clinging to each other. The Youth took a boat and went away to sea, and the rest of them stood upon the beach.

On sped the boat for many a day over the unknown paths of the sea. And the white crane flew behind the boat. And when the wind failed, she pushed the boat forward with the wind of her strong wings.

At last, one evening about the hour of sunset, the Youth heard the sound of sweet singing. The sound came to him from the land, and it travelled over the paths of the sea. He stood up in his boat, and the crane beat her strong white wings and guided his boat to the shore till its keel touched the yellow sand of the sea-beach of Takasaga.

When the Youth had come ashore he pushed the boat out again with the waves, and watched it drift away. Then he turned his face inland. The sound of music was still in his ears. The voice was like the voice of a Heavenly Being, and strange and mystical were the words of the song:–

“The lover brought a love gift to his mistress,
Jewels of jade upon a silken string;
Well-carved jewels,
Well-rounded jewels,
Green as the grass,
Upon a silken string.
The jewels know not one another,
The string they know,
Oh, the strength of the silken string!”

The Youth went inland and came to the great Pine Tree and to the Maid that sat beneath, weaving diligently and singing. The crane came flying with her strong white wings, and perched upon the Tree’s topmost branches. The tortoise lay below on the brown carpet of needles. He watched and saw much with his little eyes, but he said nothing, being very silent by nature.

The Youth stood before the Maiden, waiting.

“Whence come you?” she said, lifting up her eyes.

“I have come across the sea path. I have come from afar.”

“And wherefore came you?”

“That you must know best, seeing it was your voice that sang in my heart.”

“Do you bring me the gift?” she said.

“Indeed, I bring you the complete gift, jewels of jade upon a silken string.”

“Come,” she said, and rose and took him by the hand. And they went to her father’s house.

So they drank the “Three Times Three,” and were made man and wife, and lived in sweet tranquillity many, many years.

All the time the crane dwelt in the Pine Tree’s topmost branches, and the tortoise on the brown carpet of needles below.

At last the Youth and Maiden, that once were, became white-haired, old, and withered, by the swift, relentless passage of years.

“Fair love,” said the old man, “how weary I grow! It is sad to be old.”

“Say not so, dear delight of my heart,” said the old woman; “say not so, the best of all is to come.”

“My dear,” said the old man, “I have a desire to see the great Pine Tree before I die, and to listen once more to the song of the wind in its branches.”

“Come, then,” she said, and rose and took him by the hand.

Old and faint and worn, with feeble, tottering steps, and hand in hand they came.

“How faint I grow,” said the old man. “Ah, I am afraid! How dark it is! Hold you my hand….”

“I have it fast in mine. There, lie down, lie down, dear love; be still and listen to the wind in the Pine Tree.”

He lay on the soft brown bed beneath the Pine Tree’s boughs; and the wind sang.

She who was his love and his wife bent over him and sheltered him. And he suffered the great change.

Then he opened his eyes and looked at her. She was tall and straight and slender, in face and form most lovely, and each of them was young as the gods are young. He put out his hand and touched her. “Your long black hair …” he said.

Once more she bade him, “Come.” Lightly they left the ground. To the sound of the wind’s music they swayed, they floated, they rose into the air. Higher they rose and higher. The branches of the Pine Tree received them, and they were no more seen.

Still, in the sweet nights of summer, the Children of the Woods come hand in hand to the Pine Tree by moonlight, slipping their slim dark feet upon the moss, and tossing back their long green hair.

The Children of the Water come by moonlight, all drenching wet their sleeves, and the bright drops fall from their finger-tips. The Children of the Air rest in the Pine Tree’s branches, and make murmuring music all the live-long night. The Children of the Sea Foam creep up the yellow sands; and from the confines of Yomi come the Mysteries, the Sounds and the Scents of the Dark–with faces veiled and thin grey forms, they come, and they hang upon the air about the place where the Pine Tree is, so that the place is holy and haunted.

Lovers wandering upon the beach at Takasaga hear the great company of Spirits singing together.

“Joy of my heart,” they say to one another, “do you hear the wind in the Pine Tree?”

Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page

Horaizan

Jofuku, the Wise Man of China, sought immortality but was troubled by Mutability. Forced by a tyrant, he ventured to Horaizan, the Island of Eternal Youth. There, pain and death were forgotten. Wasobiobe, the Wise Man of Japan, also reached Horaizan but longed for Humanity. He returned home, embracing mortality, proving that life’s true essence lies in its impermanence and connections.

Source
Japanese Fairy Tales
by Grace James
Macmillan & Co., London, 1912

► Themes of the story

Eternal Life and Mortality: Both Jofuku and Wasobiobe seek immortality on Horaizan but ultimately confront the natural cycle of life and death.

Transformation: Their experiences on Horaizan lead to profound personal changes, influencing their perspectives on life and mortality.

Illusion vs. Reality: The allure of immortality on Horaizan contrasts with the reality of life’s impermanence, highlighting the tension between desire and truth.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about Japanese Mythology & Folklore

Jofuku was the Wise Man of China. Many books he read, and he never forgot what was in them. All the characters he knew as he knew the lines in the palm of his hand. He learned secrets from birds and beasts, and herbs and flowers and trees, and rocks and metals. He knew magic and poetry and philosophy. He grew full of years and wisdom. All the people honoured him; but he was not happy, for he had a word written upon his heart.

The word was Mutability. It was with him day and night, and sorely it troubled him. Moreover, in the days of Jofuku a tyrant ruled over China, and he made the Wise Man’s life a burden.

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“Jofuku,” he said, “teach the nightingales of my wood to sing me the songs of the Chinese poets.”

Jofuku could not do it for all his wisdom.

“Alas, liege,” he said, “ask me another thing and I will give it you, though it cost me the blood of my heart.”

“Have a care,” said the Emperor, “look to your ways. Wise men are cheap in China; am I one to be dishonoured?”

“Ask me another thing,” said the Wise Man.

“Well, then, scent me the peony with the scent of the jessamine. The peony is brilliant, imperial; the jessamine is small, pale, foolish. Nevertheless, its perfume is sweet. Scent me the peony with the scent of the jessamine.”

But Jofuku stood silent and downcast.

“By the gods,” cried the Emperor, “this wise man is a fool! Here, some of you, off with his head.”

“Liege,” said the Wise Man, “spare me my life and I will set sail for Horaizan where grows the herb Immortality. I will pluck this herb and bring it back to you again, that you may live and reign for ever.”

The Emperor considered.

“Well, go,” he said, “and linger not, or it will be the worse for you.”

Jofuku went and found brave companions to go with him on the great adventure, and he manned a junk with the most famous mariners of China, and he took stores on board, and gold; and when he had made all things ready he set sail in the seventh month, about the time of the full moon.

The Emperor himself came down to the seashore.

“Speed, speed, Wise Man,” he said; “fetch me the herb Immortality, and see that you do it presently. If you return without it, you and your companions shall die the death.”

“Farewell, liege,” called Jofuku from the junk. So they went with a fair wind for their white sails. The boards creaked, the ropes quivered, the water splashed against the junk’s side, the sailors sang as they steered a course eastward, the brave companions were merry. But the Wise Man of China looked forward and looked back, and was sad because of the word written upon his heart–Mutability.

The junk of Jofuku was for many days upon the wild sea, steering a course eastwards. He and the sailors and the brave companions suffered many things. The great heat burnt them, and the great cold froze them. Hungry and thirsty they were, and some of them fell sick and died. More were slain in a fight with pirates. Then came the dread typhoon, and mountain waves that swept the junk. The masts and the sails were washed away with the rich stores, and the gold was lost for ever. Drowned were the famous mariners, and the brave companions every one. Jofuku was left alone.

In the grey dawn he looked up. Far to the east he saw a mountain, very faint, the colour of pearl, and on the mountain top there grew a tree, tall, with spreading branches. The Wise Man murmured:

“The Island of Horaizan is east of the east, and there is Fusan, the Wonder Mountain. On the heights of Fusan there grows a tree whose branches hide the Mysteries of Life.”

Jofuku lay weak and weary and could not lift a finger. Nevertheless, the junk glided nearer and nearer to the shore. Still and blue grew the waters of the sea, and Jofuku saw the bright green grass and the many-coloured flowers of the island. Soon there came troops of young men and maidens bearing garlands and singing songs of welcome; and they waded out into the water and drew the junk to land. Jofuku was aware of the sweet and spicy odours that clung to their garments and their hair. At their invitation he left the junk, which drifted away and was no more seen.

He said, “I have come to Horaizan the Blest.” Looking up he saw that the trees were full of birds with blue and golden feathers. The birds filled the air with delightful melody. On all sides there hung the orange and the citron, the persimmon and the pomegranate, the peach and the plum and the loquat. The ground at his feet was as a rich brocade, embroidered with every flower that is. The happy dwellers in Horaizan took him by the hands and spoke lovingly to him.

“How strange it is,” said Jofuku, “I do not feel my old age any more.”

“What is old age?” they said.

“Neither do I feel any pain.”

“Now what is pain?” they said.

“The word is no longer written on my heart.”

“What word do you speak of, beloved?”

“Mutability is the word.”

“And what may be its interpretation?”

“Tell me,” said the Wise Man, “is this death?”

“We have never heard of death,” said the inhabitants of Horaizan.

* * * * *

The Wise Man of Japan was Wasobiobe. He was full as wise as the Wise Man of China. He was not old but young. The people honoured him and loved him. Often he was happy enough.

It was his pleasure to venture alone in a frail boat out to sea, there to meditate in the wild and watery waste. Once as he did this it chanced that he fell asleep in his boat, and he slept all night long, while his boat drifted out to the eastward. So, when he awoke in the bright light of morning, he found himself beneath the shadow of Fusan, the Wonder Mountain. His boat lay in the waters of a river of Horaizan, and he steered her amongst the flowering iris and the lotus, and sprang on shore.

“The sweetest spot in the world!” he said. “I think I have come to Horaizan the Blest.”

Soon came the youths and maidens of the island, and with them the Wise Man of China, as young and as happy as they.

“Welcome, welcome, dear brother,” they cried, “welcome to the Island of Eternal Youth.”

When they had given him to eat of the delicious fruit of the island, they laid them down upon a bank of flowers to hear sweet music. Afterwards they wandered in the woods and groves. They rode and hunted, or bathed in the warm sea-water. They feasted and enjoyed every delightful pleasure. So the long day lingered, and there was no night, for there was no need of sleep, there was no weariness and no pain.

* * * * *

The Wise Man of Japan came to the Wise Man of China. He said:

“I cannot find my boat.”

“What matter, brother?” said Jofuku. “You want no boat here.”

“Indeed, my brother, I do. I want my boat to take me home. I am sick for home. There’s the truth.”

“Are you not happy in Horaizan?”

“No, for I have a word written upon my heart. The word is Humanity. Because of it I am troubled and have no peace.”

“Strange,” said the Wise Man of China. “Once I too had a word written on my heart. The word was Mutability, but I have forgotten what it means. Do you too forget.”

“Nay, I can never forget,” said the Wise Man of Japan.

He sought out the Crane, who is a great traveller, and besought her, “Take me home to my own land.”

“Alas,” the Crane said, “if I did so you would die. This is the Island of Eternal Youth; do you know you have been here for a hundred years? If you go away you will feel old age and weariness and pain, then you will die.”

“No matter,” said Wasobiobe, “take me home.”

Then the Crane took him on her strong back and flew with him. Day and night she flew and never tarried and never tired. At last she said, “Do you see the shore?”

And he said, “I see it. Praise be to the gods.”

She said, “Where shall I carry you?… You have but a little time to live.”

“Good Crane, upon the dear sand of my country, under the spreading pine, there sits a poor fisherman mending his net. Take me to him that I may die in his arms.”

So the Crane laid Wasobiobe at the poor fisherman’s feet. And the fisherman raised him in his arms. And Wasobiobe laid his head against the fisherman’s humble breast.

“I might have lived for ever,” he said, “but for the word that is written on my heart.”

“What word?” said the fisherman.

“Humanity is the word,” the Wise Man murmured. “I am grown old–hold me closer. Ah, the pain….” He gave a great cry.

Afterwards he smiled. Then his breath left him with a sigh, and he was dead.

“It is the way of all flesh,” said the fisherman.

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The Beginning of Death

This myth recounts the origins of humanity, mortality, and the earth’s creation. Maui, a god, fished islands from the sea, including Tonga, and brought life to them. However, rebellion led by Maui’s son, Ata-longa, severed the gods’ connection to Bulotu, the divine land, resulting in sickness and death. Earthquakes signify Maui holding up Tonga. Mortals, descended from worms, serve the gods as soulless beings.

Source
Tales from Old Fiji
by Lorimer Fison
Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
at the Ballantyne Press
by Alexander Moring Ltd
London, 1904

► Themes of the story

Creation: It narrates the origin of the world and humanity, detailing how the god Maui fished islands from the sea, including Tonga, and introduced life to them.

Prophecy and Fate: The narrative explains the predetermined fate of humans to experience sickness and death due to the severed connection with the divine realm, Bulotu.

Eternal Life and Mortality: The story addresses the transition from immortality to mortality for humans, marking the beginning of death and the human condition as we know it.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Fijians

as told by Ma’afu, a Chief of Tonga

This is the account of how men came upon the earth, and of how they became subject to decay and death.

In the beginning there was no land, save that on which the gods lived; no dry land was there for men to dwell upon; all was sea; the sky covered it above, and bounded it on every side. There was neither day nor night; but a mild light shone continually through the sky upon the waters, like the shining of the moon when its face is hidden by a white cloud. Thus it was in the beginning.

The gods dwelt in Bulotu; but we cannot tell where that island is, though some say that the words which have come down from our fathers declare it to be where the sky meets the waters in the climbing-path of the sun.

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Here dwelt the gods, Maui, the greatest of them all, with his two sons [Ata-longa and Kiji-kiji] and his brothers [Tanga-Ioa, Hemoana-uli-uli, and Hiku-Ieo].

There are many others — a countless host — some small, and some great, but gods all. The gods whose names I have told you are the rulers; all the others are under subjection to them, gods though they too be.

A fine land is Bulotu, and happy are its people; for there, close to the house of Hiku-leo, is Vai-ola, the Water of Life, which the gods drink every day. Oh that we had it here on earth, for it will heal all manner of sickness! Moreover, near the brink of the fountain stands Akau-lea, that wondrous tree, the Tree of Speech, under whose shadow the gods sit down to drink kava, the tree acting as master of the ceremonies, and calling out the name of him to whom the bowl shall be carried.

THE FISHING OF MAUI

Here once upon a time they sat drinking kava; and after the bowl had gone round the circle, then outspake Maui, the king of them all —

“I am weary, ye gods,” he cried. “I am weary of this life of ours. We eat, and drink, and sleep, and do nothing. My soul is stirred within me. Let my canoe float. Drag it down to the water, and let the crew get ready for sailing.”

“Whither are you going?” Hiku-leo asked in a mocking tone; for a saucy god was he; angry too, and evil of soul. “What will you do? What do you want? This is a fool’s business truly.” And he laughed a scornful laugh.

“Stay you behind, Hiku-leo,” answered Maul. “ We know you of old, how peevish are your ways. When was a word ever spoken by others to which you said, ‘It is good’? Stay therefore at home, and watch lest any of the boys should steal your tail.” For Hiku-leo was known among the gods by his tail, which had eyes in it, he alone of them all being thus adorned. And when Maui had spoken, there was a chorus of smothered laughter, which none could help; only they were afraid to laugh aloud, because they feared Hiku-leo. But the Tailed One shook with rage; fierce was his anger.

“Go then!” he cried, “and may evil go with you! May you never return! May the waters swallow you up! May the fogs hide the land from your eyes! May you find it no more, but wander for ever to and fro on the face of the sea! Go quickly, fools that you are, hateful to my eyes! As for me, I shall stay behind, and reign here in Bulotu, for you will return no more.”

Then, with a loud shout of fierce anger, the two sons of Maui leaped to their feet; but before they could say a word, there was a rustle and a stir among the leaves of the Tree of Speech, as if a sudden blast were sweeping through its branches; and all the gods kept silence, for they knew it was going to speak.

“Hear my words, Maui,” it said. “Hear my words, Hiku-leo, and gods all. Go not! Evil will come to ass if you go — an evil so great and terrible, that you 3uld not understand if I were to tell you what it is. I pray you not to go.”

“Let it come! “ cried Maui, for his spirit was roused. “Let those who are afraid stay with Hiku-leo. Come, my sons, both of you. And are not both of you also coming, O my brothers?”

“We are going,” they answered with a shout; and all the other gods clapped their hands, and cried.

“Good is the sailing!” Then Hiku-leo rose with an angry growl, and went on his way snarling.

So the gods ran down to the beach, and dragged the great double canoe into the water. But when the two brothers of the god Maui were going on board, Maui drew them aside. “Look you, my brothers,” he said, “it will be well for you to stay behind and watch that evil one, lest he do mischief while we are away. I will take the two lads and a full crew. Why should I take more? They would only burden the canoe. Do you keep the rest together, and have a care of Hiku-leo. What if he should cut down the Tree of Speech, or defile the Water of Life! There is nothing too evil for him when he is in one of his raging moods.”

“Good are your words,” the two gods replied. “Go you then with the lads. As for us, we will stay here and watch. Go in peace and fear not; we shall not sleep.”

So the King went on board with his two sons and a picked crew, whom he chose from among the Bulotu folk, all of whom were eager to go; and, hoisting the sail, they stood out to sea before a fresh breeze that was blowing over the waters. For a long time they ran before the wind; for how long we cannot tell; but we know that they must have gone far, very far, from Bulotu; because many of our heroes have sailed far and wide in search of it, but none have been able to find it, as they would have done if it had not been so far away, unless indeed some of those whom we mourned as lost at sea may perhaps have escaped thither alive, and returned to us no more. But however this may be, when the gods had sailed over a very great stretch of water, Maui ordered the sail to be lowered.

The crew sprang willingly to the work, for they had never been so far away from Bulotu before, and fear was growing upon them. The sail was soon lowered upon the deck, and made fast. Then Maui came down from his seat on the top of the deck-house, holding in his hand an enormous fish-hook, which he threw far away from him into the sea, paying out the line as the hook sank, and the gods looked on in wonder.

“Have we come all this way to fish?” cried Ata-longa. “Are there no fish in the waters of Bulotu that we must sail thus far over the sea to catch them? What is the meaning of this, my father?”

“Wait and see,” answered Maui. “Know this, moreover, my son, that it is not seemly for youths to question the doing of their elders.”

“But so foolish a thing as this!” cried Ata-longa.

“Silence!” interrupted his father. “How do you know that it is foolish? You have been too much with that little-father [uncle] of yours, Hiku-leo, and it will be well for you to curb your tongue, lest I have to teach you that I am your king as well as — Ha! Here it is! I have

it! Come hither, all of you. Quick! Haul on the line! Haul steadily, lest it break!” And, pulling on the line, they were aware of something very heavy that the hook had caught. “Truly a monster of a fish is here!” said one, as they tugged and strained. “What can it be?” cried another. “It is no fish, for it makes no struggle,” said a third. But then the waters rose bubbling and foaming around the canoe, and smoke came from them with a thunderous rumble and roar, and the gods cried out in deadly fear. But Maui cheered them on. “Haul away, my lads!” he cried. “You shall take no harm. Put your strength on the rope, my children, and we shall soon see what it is.”

So they pulled and hauled with all their might, and presently the sea grew dark; and, looking down, they saw, as it were, a great black shadow beneath the waves. “What is this, Maui?” they cried. “We are afraid,” and some of them ran away from the rope, and crouched down and hid their faces.

“Fear not!” shouted Maui, seizing the rope with both hands, and hauling lustily upon it. “Fear not! Come back, little-livered cowards that you are! There is nothing to be afraid of.”

Then the gods shouted, pulling with a mighty will; and from the midst of the waters rose a land, mountain after mountain, till there were seven mountains in all, with valleys between, and flat lands lying at their feet.

“Here is something worth sailing for,” cried Maui. “This is better than staying at home in Bulotu and drinking kava. What about its foolishness now, my sons? What do you think of it?”

“Wonderful! Wonderful!” they rephed. “True are your words, my father. Here indeed is something worth sailing for. But is there not one little thing that might perhaps be mended. Those seven hills, are they not too high? I, for one, should not like to have to climb them.”

“Is that all? “said Maui. “That is easily mended.” And, leaping ashore, he sprang to the top of the highest mountain, and stamped upon it with his feet. And, as he stamped, the earth shook, and the mountain crumbled away beneath his feet, and rolled down into the valleys below, till they were filled up to the level on which he stood. This he did to four of the seven hills, leaving the other three untrodden, for he grew weary of the work. Now this land was Ata, the first land that Maui fished up from the depths of the sea.

Thence they sailed away again, and Maui threw out his hook once more, and raised this land of Tonga above the waves. Here he trod all the hills down into rich and fertile plains; on which, even as he trod, there sprang up grass and flowers and trees, while the earth swelled into hillocks round his feet, bursting with yams, and sweet potatoes, and all manner of food, so that the gods shouted aloud for joy.

Next he fished up Haabai and Vavau and Niua and the other islands near them; but whether he raised Samoa and Fiji at this time, or after his return to Bulotu, is not clear to us; for herein the words of our fathers do not agree. Some say one thing, and some another. There are some indeed who declare that it was Tanga-loa who brought Papa-langi (Whitemansland) to the surface, but we cannot tell whether it was so or not. One thing only is certain, that it was Maui who fished up Tonga from the bottom of the sea.

After a long stay in this fruitful land, Maui and his crew sailed back in great glee to Bulotu, where he triumphed over Hiku-leo to his heart’s content, making him tenfold more spiteful than he was before. But, when the gods met together round the Water of Life to hear the report of the voyage, Akau-lea gave forth the most pitiful sighs and groans, such as had never before been heard in Bulotu, so that Maui had no heart to tell his tale. The kava was drunk in silence, and they went to their homes with heavy hearts, fearing they knew not what of evil.

ATA-LONGA’S REBELLION

Now Ata-longa’s soul was very sore because of his father’s words, which had put him to silence and shame before all the younger gods who had sailed with them. Great was his shame, great was his anger, and his soul grew ever darker and more evil towards Maui, as he thought upon his words on that day. At last he hatched a scheme by which he could at once vex his father and escape from under his control. He gathered together a number of the younger gods, his companions, and spoke to them of the tyranny of Maui; how they were checked and curbed by him, and how much better it would be for them to flee away, and to live in peace and plenty in the new land, where they would be free from the continual interference of tyrannical elders.

“This we could not have done aforetime,” he went on to say; “but now it is easy enough. Maui himself has made it easy, for he has fished up a beautiful land from the bottom of the sea. And if you would know what manner of land that is — those of you who stayed behind when we went sailing — ask any one of the crew. It is a land of plenty; no evil is there, and nothing good is wanting. Why then should we stay here in Bulotu, to be for ever snubbed by our elders? Are we not gods as well as they? Let us go — let us go to the new land, and leave Bulotu to the stay-at-homes.”

Then followed a long silence, and Ata-longa’s hearers looked inquiringly at one another. They were all minded to follow him; but no one cared to be the first to speak.

“It is my mind to go,” said one of them at length, Fifita by name. “True are the words we have heard about the goodness of the new country. I saw it with my own eyes. Happy should we be if we were there. But how then are we to go?”

“How are we to go!” cried the son of Maui. “That truly is a small thing. Is there not my father’s canoe? What should hinder us from taking it when he is sleeping heavily after the kava drinking? There is no difficulty if we only hold our tongues, and say nothing about it to the women and children till it is time to go on board with a rush. Get you the canoe ready for launching, with all its fittings, and I will see that Maui will not wake to-morrow till the sun is high over the land. We will sail to-night.”

So they bound themselves by an oath to silence and secrecy, and went to their homes to make ready for the flight. But Ata-longa went to his plantation, and dug up the largest root of kava he could find; and when he had washed it, he took it to Maui, presenting it with great humility, and with much respect.

“Be not angry with me, my lord,” he said, “because of my foolish words when you were fishing up Ata. My soul is very sore because of my offending; therefore have I brought this root of kava to be my offering of atonement, that my wrongdoing may be buried, and that you may remember it no more.”

“Why should you bring me an offering, my son?” Maui replied. “Am I not your father? Is it then so hard a matter to forgive the hasty word of a youth? I take the kava, not as a peace-offering, but as the love-gift of my son. Truly a fine root! Come, let us drink! Call my brothers and Kiji-kiji, and let some of your people sit down and chew it.”

“Nay, my lord,” said Ata-longa. “If you are indeed of a good mind towards me, drink you the kava and you only, for you only have I offended.”

“Chew then,” said Maui, “and let it be as you say.”

So Ata-longa’s young men whom he had brought with him to carry the big root, and to wait upon him, cut up the root, and chewed it, and when it was watered and strained, Ata-longa passed the drink to his father, cup after cup, till the kava bowl was empty. And when Maui had drunk it all up to the dregs, he lay down, and sank into a deep sleep; whereupon the deceitful youth hastened to the beach; and when it was dark, he and some of his followers dragged the canoe down to the water and poled her over the shallows to a place where the rest of the plotters were in hiding with their wives and their little ones, some two hundred in all. These were hurried on board, the sail was hoisted in silence with all speed, the great canoe moved swiftly over the waters, and none of the gods in Bulotu saw the fugitives as they sailed away. Alas! alas! for the Beginning of Death!

Maui slept heavily for many hours. He had drunk so much kava that the day had risen over the land long before he awoke, and not till he had been astir for several hours did any one observe that the canoe-house was empty; for Bulotu is a sleepy land, a land of rest, and its people are not for ever astir, as are we dwellers on the earth. But at length a messenger came to the great house reporting that the canoe was gone, and that Hiku-leo, with Ata-longa and many others, was missing.

THE TWISTING OF HIKU-LEO’S TAIL

Now, Hiku-leo had been so enraged by the mocking words of Maui that he could not endure to stay near him; so he had gone far away into the forest, where he hid himself in a cave; and there, bursting with spite, he remained for many days. So when Maui heard that he was absent, what should he think but that it was he who had taken the canoe?

“Aha!” said he to Tanga-loa, who was with him when the messenger came, “Hiku-leo has gone fishing, has he? Good be his sailing! Let us wait, and see what sort of fish he will catch. But is Ata-longa gone with him? “

“He also is gone, my lord,” the messenger replied. “He and many more.”

“That is bad, Tanga-loa,” said Maui, when the messenger had departed. “The lad is always with Hiku-leo, and nothing but evil will he learn from him.”

“It is true, my brother,” said Tanga-loa; “but this thing, after all, is no great matter. Is it to be wondered at that he should be eager for a sail? He is but a boy, you know. However, it will be well for us to scold him when he comes back, and to warn him against that evil-souled brother of ours.” And so the matter dropped.

But after another long while, one day, as the gods were sitting under the shade of the Tree of Speech, drinking kava as their manner was, who should step into the ring but Hiku-leo himself! Sulkily, and without a word of greeting, he stepped within the ring, and sat down on the grass in his accustomed place. The gods looked behind him, expecting to see Ata-longa and the others; but he was alone.

“The lads are ashamed to come,” whispered Maui to his two brothers, who were sitting with him. “They have had no luck. Good is your sailing, Hiku-leo! Good is your sailing; but where are the lads?”

“Have done with your fooling!” growled Hiku-leo, his tail wagging angrily behind him. “Do you think you have a right to be for ever mocking me, because you went fishing and hooked up a bit of dirt? Let there be an end of it, for I will suffer it no longer.”

“Mocking you!” cried Maui. “I am not mocking you. Where have you been? Where is Ata-longa?, Where are the lads? And where is the canoe?”

“What do you mean?” snarled Hiku-leo. “What do I know about Ata-longa and his following of fools? And what do I know about your canoe? Am I your slave that you should ask me? Where is your canoe, indeed 1 Ask your slaves.”

“Look you, Hiku-leo!” cried Tanga-loa in a rage, “we have had enough of your evil ways.” And, springing nimbly behind him, he seized his tail, and twisted it till the surly god bellowed with pain. “Where is Ata-longa?” cried Tanga-loa, keeping ever behind him, as he writhed, and spun round and round. “Where is the canoe? Where have you been? What have you been doing?” And at every question he gave the tail a fresh twist, till it was curled closely up into a hard lump.

“Are you mad?” roared Hiku-leo, kicking viciously. “Let me go, Tanga-loa! You wretch, let me go!”

“Not till you answer,” said Tanga-loa, keeping a firm hold of the tail.

“I know nothing about them,” yelled the miserable god in his agony. “Oh, wretch that you are! Let me go, I say! Wah-h-h! Make him let go, Maui! Help, brother of Maui! Help, ye gods! I never saw them. I’ve been in the forest all by myself. Ah-h-h! I swear it! True are my words! Have mercy, Tanga-loa!”

“Let him go, Tanga-loa!” said Maui. “Let him go! It is enough. There! Sit down, Hiku-leo. Sit down, and let us talk the matter over.”

“Sit down, indeed!” cried Hiku-leo, foaming with rage as he rubbed himself. “How can I sit down? No, Tanga-loa! Be quiet! I will sit.” — For Tanga-loa had moved as if about to make another spring for his tail. — “What is it all about, my lord? What wrong have I done?”

“What wrong?” cried Maui. “Is it no wrong to take the canoe without asking me? and Ata-longa? and all the crew?”

“None of this have I done,” Hiku-leo declared with great earnestness. “If they are gone, and the canoe, I have had no part therein. I hear of it now for the first time. Ever since your coming back from the sailing I have been in the forest. I fled thither from your jeering words.”

“Is this true, Hiku-leo?” Maui asked.

“It is indeed true. I swear it. Why should I lie to you?” was the reply.

“Where then is Ata-longa?” asked the King in great perplexity. And all the gods were silent, each looking in wonder upon his neighbour’s face.

Then a deep groan from the Tree of Speech broke in upon the silence, and a wailing sound was heard among its branches, whence a sprinkling, as of rain, fell down upon the surface of the Water of Life, like the falling of many tears.

“It has come,” said a mournful voice. “The evil, of which I warned you, has come! Why did you go, Maui? Why did you go?”

“What is it, O Tree of Speech?” cried Maui in a startled tone. “What is this great evil? For that a great evil has befallen us I feel within my soul, though I know not what it is.”

“They are gone!” said the Tree with a groan. “Ata-longa has taken them away to the new land. They are gone, never to return. Alas! alas! for the folly of the disobedient ones. Evil is now their lot — hunger and thirst — trouble and sorrow — sickness and Death!”

At this dreadful word the voice of the Tree ceased, and an awful silence fell upon the host — a silence of dread — broken only by the low moan of wailing among the branches, and by the falling as of tear-drops into the Water of Life. And a shudder ran round the circle of gods, with the sound of a deep-drawn breath; nor did any one ask the meaning of the word, for they felt its meaning within their hearts, though they had never heard it before.

Then a chill blast came sweeping through the branches, mingling a sound of sobbing and sighing with the wailing moan; and many of the leaves, evergreen heretofore, faded, and withered, and fell, scattered hither and thither by the sudden blast. And the gods, looking up in awestruck wonder — for never before had such a thing been known — saw that the branch, from which the leaves had fallen, was sapless and dead. And, even as they looked, a dismal groan sounded from the midst of the Tree, and the branch dropped into the Water of Life, breaking into three pieces, two large and one small, as it fell. Then the fearful gods beheld a wondrous thing; for, as the pieces sank down into the waters, they took the form of three canoes, two large and one small; so sank they slowly down till they were lost in the depths. Then with a heavy sigh rose Maui and the rest of the gods, and in mournful silence they went to their homes.

THE DEATH-CANOES

Merrily over the waters went Ata-longa in the stolen canoe with his crew of runaways. Merrily sailed they over the waters; the son of Maui, and those who had been with him on the former voyage, telling of all the wonders they had seen, and they who had stayed at home listened with greedy ears. Pleasant was the breeze, and swiftly glided the canoe over the laughing waves, till Tonga rose out of the waters in their course; and they soon reached the shore, shouting aloud at the beautiful prospect before them; for of all lands under the heavens this Tonga of ours is the loveliest and the best, even as we, its people, are foremost among the sons of men.

The gods were full of joy, and made the whole island ring with their merry laughter and shouts of glee, as they rambled about in companies, and found new beauties to admire, or more and more abundant food supplies, ripe and ready to their hands, yams and breadfruit, and coconuts in all stages of growth, with shoals of fish leaping out of the water here and there. The women sat on the seashore watching the children as they gambolled along the sands, some of them rushing into the water and spearing fish with their little spears. Fires were soon lit, food was baked, and all were full of delight. “This is a better land than that we have left,” they said. “Here will we stay. Never more will we return to Bulotu.” Little did they think what a fearful truth lay in those gladsome words!

They took the big canoe to pieces, and made out of it eight smaller ones, with which they explored the coast, fishing as they went, and catching good fish, more than they could eat. Thus they lived happily for a long while; but at length there came upon them a terrible woe, changing their joy and gladness into deadly fear and deep anguish of soul.

Thus it came about. The fine young god, Fifita, of whom you have heard before, was a great friend of Ata-longa’s, and came with him as a matter of course; he and his wife Moa, and their little girl, their only child. A loving couple were they, and dearly they loved their little one, the darling of their hearts. So it fell upon a day that Fifita, coming home from the fishing, wondered that his wife and his little daughter had not come down to the seashore to welcome him according to their wont; for they were always waiting on the beach when he came back. looking out for him. And, when he landed, the little girl would run to meet him with glad cries of “Father! my father!” that he might lift her in his arms, and kiss her, and carry her on his shoulders up to the house; while she would pull his hair and his beard, shouting aloud for joy, and laughing at her mother, who walked smiling behind them, with the fish-basket on her back. Therefore Fifita wondered greatly because they were absent; and leaping ashore, he went hastily up to the house, where he found his wife stretched upon the mats, with the child lying beside her.

“Ah, lazy ones!” he cried. “Must you then be always sleeping, that you cannot welcome me home from the fishing?”

Languidly then his wife looked up at the sound of his voice; and Fifita saw that her eyes were dim — those eyes that were wont to sparkle so merrily.

“What is wrong with you, Moa?” he cried in sudden terror. “What ails you? Why are your eyes so dim?”

“I know not,” she replied in a low tone and faint. “I know not what has befallen me, but it is not with me as it was. Come nearer, and let me take you by the hand while I speak. Give me your hand; sit down here beside me; nearer still; for strange are the thoughts I find within my soul. It is to me as if I were drifting away on a strong current; but whither I know not, nor why. What is it, my husband? Are you also going, or do you remain behind?”

“What words are these?” cried Fifita. “Why do you speak thus? Surely you have been dreaming, and are not yet fully awake?”

“It is no dream,” she replied, “for I have not been sleeping. We two went together down to the beach to wait for your return as our manner is, and I sat on the grass while our little one played with the other children to and fro on the sand. As I sat watching her, she suddenly stopped in her play; and shading her eyes with her hand, she looked out seaward. Then she ran to me; and climbing on my lap, she threw her arms round my neck, crying, “Ah, the canoe! the little canoe! Clasp me in your arms, for I am cold. Oh mother! Oh my dear mother!” And holding her tight in my arms, I felt that she was intensely cold; so I rose, and carried her up to the house, for she had fallen asleep upon my breast. She has been sleeping ever since; and I too, I would fain sleep, for I am weary. What is it, my husband? What can it be? And what is this chill which I feel creeping upwards to my heart? Come nearer to me, for it is growing dark, and I cannot see your face.”

Her voice grew ever fainter as she spoke, till it died away in a low whisper; and Fifita sat by her side, holding her hand, with a sickening terror at his heart. Then, suddenly, she started, and raised her head. “What is this?” she cried in a full-toned voice. “ How can this be? Is not this my child that I hold in my arms? How then do I see her yonder sitting on that little canoe? She smiles, Fifita, and beckons me away. There also is another canoe, larger than hers. Ah! I see it now! I am going. Farewell, my husband! I must leave you. I come, my child, I come!” Then, with a long-drawn sigh, her head sank again upon the mats, her eyes closed, and she was still.

Fifita sprang to his feet with a cry of horror. “Wake, Moa, wake!” he cried, shaking her violently by the hand. “Sleep not thus, my wife! Open your eyes, and look upon me!” But she heard him not.

Startled by his frantic cries, all the gods came running together to his house. “What is the matter, Fifita?” asked the foremost. “What has befallen you, that you are crying thus?”

“My wife! My wife, and my child also! Look at them! Wake, Moa, wake!” he cried, shaking her again, and dragging madly at her hand. “Oh! what is this dreadful sleep? Her hand is cold. What is this terrible coldness? Help, my friends! Help me to waken them! Moa! Moa!” But still she heard him not.

Suddenly, with a start, he raised his head, and turning quickly round,he gazed out seaward, while there stole over his face a bewildered look, which brightened into a happy smile.

“Here now is a wondrous thing!” said he, speaking slowly and in an altered tone. “Have I then been dreaming too? Ah, Moa, how could you frighten me so? But how did you get there to the canoe?”

“What canoe, Fifita?” asked one of the gods. “Here lies Moa, and here is her child. To whom then are you speaking? There is no canoe.”

“Nay, but there are three,” Fifita said; “two big ones and a little one, and one of them is empty. It is for me. Do you not see them? Look! There sits Moa; never before was her face so beautiful. And our child — she too is there on the small canoe. They call me; smiling, they call me. I come, my wife! I come, my darling! Stand aside, my friends, that I may go.”

Then the gods saw a strange look pass athwart his face; a lofty and solemn look, such as they had seen never before. And the light faded from his eyes, over which the lids closed wearily; and with a deep-drawn breath, he sank down by the side of his wife, whom he had loved so well.

Then, as they stood, gazing in awestruck wonder on the prostrate forms, suddenly a shrill cry rose in their midst; and one of them fell to the ground, writhing and shrieking as if in mortal agony, his hands clutching the air, his eyeballs rolling, his muscles twisted into knots, foam flying from his lips, which were drawn apart, showing his teeth set in a horrible grin, his flesh twitching and quivering beneath his skin, and his whole body convulsed, a fearful sight to see. And through the gathering darkness came a wailing moan, mingled with sobbing and sighing, and a faint rustling as of leaves. Then deep groans came struggling from the chest of him who was smitten down, and among them words, awful words, which the gods had never before heard spoken, but the meaning of which they felt in their hearts; and the boldest of them shuddered as they heard; for they knew the voice — it was the voice of the Tree of Speech!

“Subject to disease and death! Subject to disease and death! That is the doom of the disobedient ones who have left the Waters of Life. Bury the dead! Let the earth hide them! Thus shall ye all be, for now you are all given over to Disease and to Death.”

Ah then, the loud wailing, the loud wailing and the bitter fear! But the evil was done; it was past recall; neither tears nor wailing could awaken the dead. So they dug a grave deep and wide for Fifita and Moa, and the child they laid upon its mother’s breast.

When they had filled the grave with sand, they sat down in the Council-ring with heavy hearts; and they resolved to build another canoe, in which some of them might go sailing to Bulotu, and ask pardon of Maui for their evil deeds, praying also that they might be allowed to return to the land of the gods, and that the awful doom of “disease and death” might be taken from them. So they built the canoe; but those who sailed in her came back after a long absence, weak and worn with hardship and fasting. They told of storms and roaring waves, and fearful monsters of the deep; but Bulotu had been hidden from their eyes. Thus also has it been with us ever since that woeful day. Many of our heroes have sailed far and wide in search of the good land, but never have they reached its shores. Some of them, indeed, have told us that they saw it lying in the sunlight with its wooded hills, and its white ring of surf on the coral reef around it; but it has always faded away as they sailed onward, till they have passed over the very spot where they saw it lying, green and beautiful, in the midst of the sea.

* * * * *

Though their crime was very great, Maui did not utterly forsake the rebel gods; for their fire having gone out in the time of trouble, he sent his son Kiji-kiji to Tonga with some of the sacred fire of Bulotu, that they might be able to cook their food. So Kiji-kiji brought the sacred fire to our land, and shut it up within a tree, from which we can bring it forth by rubbing two pieces of the wood together. And when he had done this, he went back to his father, taking Ata-longa with him — him and none other.

Moreover, Tanga-loa went up to the sky, where he now reigns as its king; and he drew aside the cloud-curtain, that the sun might shine down upon the earth more clearly, the moon also and the stars. And Maui’s brother took up his abode in the sea, of which he is the ruler. As for Maui, it was his mind to stay in Bulotu; but, after many days, he heard a great outcry, and shrieks for help from Tonga, whose people were crying to him in their distress, because their land had begun to sink again below the waves. Our fathers did not tell us how their cry reached his ears; but we think it must have been reported to him by the Tree of Speech. This, however, we know — that he dived beneath the waters, and took the land upon his shoulders, that he might hold it up. And there he stands to this day holding up our land. When there is an earthquake we know that it is Maui nodding in his sleep; and we shout, and stamp, and beat the ground with our clubs, that we may waken him. And when he is roused from his sleep, the earth trembles and shakes no more.

So Hiku-leo became King of Bulotu; and an evil king is he, for he delights in tormenting the souls of the dead, all of whom have to go to him when the Death-canoe brings them from the earth. They have no chance of escaping him; for the canoes must land in front of his house, where he sits watching for their unhappy souls; and whenever he goes out, he leaves his tail behind to keep watch in his place. None can escape him; for he seizes the souls of the dead, making some of them his slaves, and others he uses as posts for his out-houses, and as stakes for his fence, and as bars for his gates. So cruel and savage of soul is he, that, were it not for the check that his two elder brothers keep upon him, he would destroy everything in Bulotu when he gets into his raging moods. But his brothers have bound him round the waist with the cord that can never be broken, tied in the knot that can never be loosed; and Tanga-loa holds one end in the sky, while Maui grasps the other beneath the earth, so that they can pull him easily either this way or that way, as need may be.

The story of the Beginning of Death has now been told; but there is a sequel to it. The runaway gods, who dwelt in Tonga, peopling the land, had no slaves. But after a while, a sandpiper went forth to seek its food; and scratching the ground in a place of mud, it unearthed a heap of worms, slimy of look and evil of smell. So loathsome, indeed, were they that the sandpiper could not eat them; but, spurning them with his foot, scattered them about over the surface of the mud. And when the sun had shone on them for many days they grew into men, and our fathers, the gods in Tonga, took them for their slaves. These slaves have no souls, and when their days are ended, they die, and there is an end of them. Thus also is it with the white men. We know this, for we have asked them themselves, and they tell us that there are sandpipers in their land also. Here then is manifest the root of our greatness; and this is why we, the people of Tonga, are the noblest among the nations. All the other people are children of the earth; but we are children of the gods, inhabitants of Bulotu.

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Gaffer Death

A poor man, desperate for a godfather for his thirteenth child, accepts Death’s offer. Death promises to make the boy a renowned physician, guiding him to heal or pronounce death. The physician’s fame grows, but his greed leads him to defy Death twice—saving a king and a princess. Death, betrayed, takes him to a cave of life-candles, where the physician’s life ends in Death’s hands.

Source
Folk-lore and Legends: German
Printed by T. and A. Constable,
Printers to Her Majesty,
at the Edinburgh University Press
W.W. Gibbings, London, 1892

► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: The physician attempts to outsmart Death by manipulating situations to save patients marked for death, showcasing human cunning against supernatural forces.

Tragic Flaw: The physician’s greed and ambition lead him to defy Death’s instructions, ultimately resulting in his own demise, illustrating how personal weaknesses can cause one’s downfall.

Eternal Life and Mortality: The narrative explores the inevitability of death and the human desire to overcome it, emphasizing the natural limits of life and the consequences of attempting to alter them.

From the lore

Learn more about German Folklore

There was once a poor man who had twelve children, and he was obliged to labour day and night that he might earn food for them. When at length, as it so happened, a thirteenth came into the world, the poor man did not know how to help himself, so he ran out into the highway, determined to ask the first person he met to be godfather to the boy.

There came stalking up to him Death, who said–

“Take me for a godfather.”

► Continue reading…

“Who are you?” asked the father.

“I am Death, who makes all equal,” replied the stranger.

Then said the man–

“You are one of the right sort: you seize on rich and poor without distinction; you shall be the child’s godfather.”

Death answered–

“I will make the boy rich and renowned throughout the world, for he who has me for a friend can want nothing.”

Said the man–

“Next Sunday will he be christened, mind and come at the right time.”

Death accordingly appeared as he had promised, and stood godfather to the child.

When the boy grew up his godfather came to him one day, and took him into a wood, and said–

“Now shall you have your godfather’s present. I will make a most famous physician of you. Whenever you are called to a sick person, I will take care and show myself to you. If I stand at the foot of the bed, say boldly, ‘I will soon restore you to health,’ and give the patient a little herb that I will point out to you, and he will soon be well. If, however, I stand at the head of the sick person, he is mine; then say, ‘All help is useless; he must soon die.'”

Then Death showed him the little herb, and said–

“Take heed that you never use it in opposition to my will.”

It was not long before the young fellow was the most celebrated physician in the whole world.

“The moment he sees a person,” said every one, “he knows whether or not he’ll recover.”

Accordingly he was soon in great request. People came from far and near to consult him, and they gave him whatever he required, so that he made an immense fortune. Now, it so happened that the king was taken ill, and the physician was called upon to say whether he must die. As he went up to the bed he saw Death standing at the sick man’s head, so that there was no chance of his recovery. The physician thought, however, that if he outwitted Death, he would not, perhaps, be much offended, seeing that he was his godfather, so he caught hold of the king and turned him round, so that by that means Death was standing at his feet. Then he gave him some of the herb, and the king recovered, and was once more well. Death came up to the physician with a very angry and gloomy countenance, and said–

“I will forgive you this time what you have done, because I am your godfather, but if you ever venture to betray me again, you must take the consequences.”

Soon after this the king’s daughter fell sick, and nobody could cure her. The old king wept night and day, until his eyes were blinded, and at last he proclaimed that whosoever rescued her from Death should be rewarded by marrying her and inheriting his throne. The physician came, but Death was standing at the head of the princess. When the physician saw the beauty of the king’s daughter, and thought of the promises that the king had made, he forgot all the warnings he had received, and, although Death frowned heavily all the while, he turned the patient so that Death stood at her feet, and gave her some of the herb, so that he once more put life into her veins.

When Death saw that he was a second time cheated out of his property, he stepped up to the physician, and said–

“Now, follow me.”

He laid hold of him with his icy cold hand, and led him into a subterranean cave, in which there were thousands and thousands of burning candles, ranged in innumerable rows. Some were whole, some half burnt out, some nearly consumed. Every instant some went out, and fresh ones were lighted, so that the little flames seemed perpetually hopping about.

“Behold,” said Death, “the life-candles of mankind. The large ones belong to children, those half consumed to middle-aged people, the little ones to the aged. Yet children and young people have oftentimes but a little candle, and when that is burnt out, their life is at an end, and they are mine.”

The physician said–

“Show me my candle.”

Then Death pointed out a very little candle-end, which was glimmering in the socket, and said–

“Behold!”

Then the physician said–

“O dearest godfather, light me up a new one, that I may first enjoy my life, be king, and husband of the beautiful princess.”

“I cannot do so,” said Death; “one must burn out before I can light up another.”

“Place the old one then upon a new one, that that may burn on when this is at an end,” said the physician.

Death pretended that he would comply with this wish, and reached a large candle, but to revenge himself, purposely failed in putting it up, and the little piece fell and was extinguished. The physician sank with it, so he himself fell into the hands of Death.

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The brothers held captive on an island

Two brothers, carried away by a storm, are captured on an island where they face sacrificial death. The younger brother ingeniously disguises himself as an old woman, infiltrates the sacrifice ceremony, and frees his siblings. They subsequently massacre the entire village, with the elder brothers settling in a new community while the youngest returns home to find his son has aged dramatically, while he remains young.

Source
The Jessup North Pacific Expedition
edited by Franz Boas
Memoir of the American Museum
of Natural History – New York
Volume VIII
3. The Eskimo of Siberia
by Waldemar Bogoras
Leiden & New York, 1913

► Themes of the story

Sacrifice: The brothers are intended to be sacrificed to the Sea-God by the islanders.

Revenge and Justice: After freeing themselves, the brothers exact revenge by killing all the villagers who intended to sacrifice them.

Eternal Life and Mortality: Upon returning home, the youngest brother finds that while he remains young, his son has aged into an old man, highlighting themes of aging and the passage of time.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Yupik peoples

The narrator indicated that the island in question was the larger one of the Diomede Islands in Bering Strait.

Told by Tal’i’mak, an Asiatic Eskimo man, in the village of Uni’sak, at Indian Point, May, 1901.

Two brothers were carried away by a gale, and came to an island in the ocean. The islanders captured them. The younger brother set off in search of the lost ones. He came to the island, and happened to overhear two old women who were talking about the event to take place the next morning. The two prisoners were to be sacrificed to the Sea-God. He killed one of the old women, skinned her, and put on her skin and her clothes. He also hid three long knives in one of the legs of her breeches.

The Strong-Man of the village sent two men to bring the old woman to the place of sacrifice. They took her under their arms and brought her there. “Oh,” said the Strong-Man, “how is it that your shoulders have come to be so broad?” — “Through my great desire to see the sacrifice.” They placed the old woman between the two prisoners. Then they killed a slave as a peace-offering to the intended victims. But the old woman cut the thongs of the prisoners, and gave each a knife. Then the three killed all the people of the village.

► Continue reading…

The three brothers went to another village, and the elder two married there. The youngest brother returned home, and found there his own son, who was now an old man, quite bent down, and walking with a staff. His father, however, was still quite young.

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