Travel

(This week marks the end of our summer series of Travel Articles. The autumn and winter series will begin next week. The following exciting episode, though outside the usual scope of our travel notes, may, we feel, stimulate some of our readers to travel farther afield.—Ed. Spectator.)

A God on Holiday

WE were explorinae. the little fishing village of Shiogama on the Pacific coast of northern Japan. It was a typical Japanese village street we were tramping, fifteen feet or so wide, lined on either side by thatched-roofed wooden houses, with open sewers moat-like in front of them. Only bright sunshine from the Cambridge blue skies, and a healthy tang from the sea near by relieved the stagnant squalor, till, round the corner, came the god.

His advent began with an inexplicable shouting and clatter. Then we saw a priest, in a black kimono, with white silk lining showing here and there, carrying a sort of bishop's crook with three metal rings hanging from it. Behind him came a large multi-coloured palanquin with long wooden shafts, borne by some thirty youths in blue smocks, white cotton shorts, the Japanese tabi—that combination of sock and sandal—on their feet, and with bath towels knotted turban fashion round their close-cropped heads.

" What's all this ? " I asked.

" Oh, that's the local god," said my friend John. " They are taking him on his yearly outing. You see, in Japan every fete is connected with a temple. The gods realize the need of the people for occasional distraction, and encourage them to celebrate in the sacred precincts. One good turn deserves another, so every year each god gets his outing, too.

The lads of the village carry him round the streets in state. . . . Let's follow them up. We are sure to see some fun." We did.

The procession had moved on, and behind it a gathering crowd of villagers of all ages and in divers costumes. We wedged ourselves in as near as possible to the bearers, for their gait intrigued me mightily. They lurched from side to side, while their hands on the shafts twitched violently, and their eyes rolled terrifyingly. As they staggered along they intoned a hoarse, rhythmic chant of, 0 ha-chi-mon ! 0 ha:chi-mon ! " which, John told me, was the name of the god.

" They look drunk," said I.

`0 No, no, it is only the spirit of the god which is moving them. All the twitching and the lurching is due to irregular bursts of divine energy."

I looked closer ; and then I remembered where I had seen similar antics before, in the West—the West End of London at a spiritualist séance.

By now the pace was becoming more rapid and the inspiration of the god more violent, under the encouragement of a larger and larger crowd.

" Where are they making for ? " I asked.

" The god has several calls to pay on the extra-faithful who have made special offering."

Sure .enough, there came one of these halts in the , main street. The palanquin was set on trestles before the porch of the favoured house. The owner came out, saluted profoundly, then offered refreshment to the perspiring bearers. A short pause, then en route again in a series of convulsions and wider and more terrifying lurches.

The noise became deafening. As the hubbub rose the writhings increased and, of a sudden, came disaster. The bearers were moved to a five-yard dash along the street, all sense of direction was lost, the palanquin spun round at a giddy speed, and then hurtled in an ugly zig-zag right through the plate-glass window of the Shiogama General Store.

" There's going to be trouble now ! "

" No, not necessarily. The people are quite accustomed to such incidents. In Japan, gods move in a Mysterious way their blunders to perform." . -

A chipped divinity and sheepish bearers, blinking like wakened sleep-walkers, were extracted from the debris, while the priest made abortive efforts to maintain a respectful attitude in the crowd. Explanations began as a chornsi but settled down shortly to a trio between a policeman, the

priest, and the owner olthe store. • " Whose fault was it ? " asked the policeman.

The storekeeper's eyes• rested for a moment on the poorly dressed fisher lads and then on the sumptuous silk of the priest. He forthwith decided that he had no blame for the bearers ; his quarrel was with the god. By Jove," said John, " he is going to bring an action for damages against the god ! We must not miss this. They have decided to stop the procession pending a settlement of the case." • The hearing before the Headman of the village came off three days later. Storekeeper Suzuki conducted his own case, but the god was defended by the High Priest of the shrine. His defence was an attack on the bearers. The spirit of the god was powerful indeed—he was the last to deny it—but other spirits had had their share in the business, he declared, and called witnesses to testify as to the nature of the refresh- ment provided by the villager before whose house the palanquin had halted. Suzuki would have none of it. He had been young himself and borne the god in the annual procession. He knew what irresistible thrills emanated from the Olympian paisenger.

It was clear by this time, even to us, that public sympathy was all on the side of Suzuki ; and the Headman's judgment, given at great length, was merely an expression of the popular will.

" Manifestly," he said, " the bearers are in no way responsible. It is accepted tradition; which our priests at all times and in all seasons affirm, that, when once mere mortals lay their hands upon the shafts of the palanquin, their movements are under the direct control of the Presence. To suggest that other agencies can intervene is to sap the faith of our people. I cannot take the responsibility of accepting such a suggestion, and I am sure that my reverend friend would not wish me to do so.

" I therefore give judgment against the god, and order compensation to be paid to Mr. Suzuki from the funds of the Hachimon Temple. Furthermore, in pursuance of my function as protector of the public interest, feeling that the god in his present disposition constitutes a public peril, I respectfully order that three annual festivals shall pass before he is again taken out of his temple."

When next we were passing that way, we called in to see 0 Hachimon again. There he was behind the bats of his shrine, doing time philosophically, in full view of the public he has outraged. The good folk bear him no ill will, however, and are as 'respectful as ever. They 'even throw a copper or so in the large offertory tray, to help him on with the damages. He went wrong, of course, but he is taking his punishment . . . like a man.

H. VERE RED3fAN.