This story in the original Japanese can be found here.
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Mother Mary Dressed in Black*
To you do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears. … Turn then, most gracious advocate, your eyes of mercy towards us. … O clement, o loving, o sweet Virgin Mary
—Scripture (Japanese translation)**
“How is this?” asked Tashiro, standing up a statuette of Maria Kannon on the table.
Maria Kannon, a Kannon statue often made of white porcelain, was what was worshiped in place of the Virgin Mary in the time when Christianity was prohibited.*** It looked enough like a statue of Kannon to pass muster. But the Maria Kannon which Tashiro was displaying was not like its fellows in museum displays or collectors’ cabinets. Foremost was that the statue, a mere 30 cm, was, save for the face, cut entirely of ebony. Also, around its neck was an extremely elaborate-looking jeweled necklace in the shape of a cross inlayed with gold and limpet. In addition, its face was beautiful ivory, and the lips were even touched red with what looked like coral…
Silently, with my arms crossed, I stared for a time at the black-clad Virgin’s face. But while I was staring at it, I felt as if a somehow suspicious expression had crept across its ivory face. No, to say suspicious is not quite far enough. I felt as though a sneer betraying some ill will had taken over its face.
“How is this?”
A grin tinged with pride at his closeness with all sorts of collectors, Tashiro looked at the Maria Kannon, then at me, and then did so once again. “What a find! But isn’t there something unsettling about its face?”
“I suppose it’s not an expression of tranquility. Speaking of which, there’s a strange legend that goes along with this Maria Kannon.”
“A strange legend?”
I turned my gaze unconsciously from the Maria Kannon to Tashiro. An unexpectedly serious expression had come across his face. He picked up the Maria Kannon from the table briefly, and then returned it to the same position.
“Indeed. It’s said that this is a Virgin Mary of ill omen. Instead of turning misfortune to fortune, it turns fortune to misfortune.”
“Impossible.”
“And yet that is true. It happened to the owner.”
Tashiro sat down on the chair and made an expression of prudence and gloom almost beyond description. He gestured with his hand for me to take a seat across the table.
“Really?”
I spoke instinctively with a suspicious tone as I took my seat. Tashiro was a bachelor of law who had graduated a year or two before me and was spoken of as a prodigy. And as far as I knew, he was a modern thinker who did not put a single bit of stock in so-called supernatural phenomenon. That this Tashiro would say such a thing, and moreover that he would speak of this strange legend, undoubtedly a silly ghost story—
“Really?”
I again asked for confirmation, and Tashiro said, while slowly moving a match to his pipe, “Well, I must leave that for you to decide! But it does seem as if there is some evil-seeming fate about this Maria Kannon. As long as it does not bore you, I’ll tell you the story:
“This Maria Kannon, before it came into my hands, belonged to a wealthy family called Inami in some town in Niigata. Naturally, it was not treated as an antique, but as the god they prayed to for the family’s prosperity.
“The head of the Inami family was in the same semester as law school with me, and even when he got involved with a company or tried his hand and banking, we were close entrepreneurs. In addition to those connections, I had even calculated some advantages for him once or twice. I felt obliged, I suppose. One year he came to Tokyo and took the opportunity to give me his family heirloom, the Maria Kannon.
“It was then that I heard from Inami my so-called strange legend. Of course, this does not mean at all that he himself believed such mysteries. But he gave me a brief explanation of the Virgin’s history and origins as he had heard them from his mother.
“I am told it was ten or eleven autumns ago. That would have been when the Black Ships threw the port of Uraga into chaos, the last year of the Kaei era, right? Anyway, Inami’s mother’s younger brother, a lad of just eight called Mosaku, was stricken with a bad case of the measles. Having lost both of her parents to an epidemic, Hayashi, as well as Mosaku and her older brother and younger sister, were raised by their grandmother in her seventies. So when Mosaku was taken ill, she called on the Inamis’ great-grandmother. Retired, the great-grandmother, her hair done up in a bun to indicate her widowhood, was not the best or second best option. But no matter how much the doctor slaved over him, Mosaku’s condition just became worse, and within just a week, it was so serious he had a day or two left.
“So one night, Hayashi’s great-grandmother suddenly came into the room where Hayashi usually slept. She picked up Hayashi, who was supposed to be sleeping, and made her change her clothes. Hayashi felt faintly as if she was still dreaming when her great-grandmother took her hand and led her to an seldom-used deserted earthen storehouse, a dim paper lantern illuminating its hallway.
“It was said that for a long time the plain wooden shrine within the storehouse had been home to Inari to ward against fires. But when Hayashi’s great-grandmother opened the shrine’s door with a key from her sash, what you could be seen in the light of the storehouse, beyond the curtain covering the small shrine and through its slitted doors, was not the idol standing upright you would expect, but this Maria Kannon! As soon as Hayashi saw this, she suddenly became afraid of the warehouse. It was so late that not even the insects could be heard. Unconsciously she clung to her great-grandmother’s knee and began to sob. But her great-grandmother uncharacteristically paid no heed to her sobbing. Sitting down before the shrine, she bowed her head in reverence and made the sign of the cross on her forehead, and she began to offer up a prayer that Hayashi could not understand.
“After about ten minutes, her great-grandmother quietly took her great-granddaughter into her arms. Soothing her fear repeatedly, she made Hayashi sit down beside her. Then, so that Hayashi could understand, she prayed thusly to the ebon Virgin.
“’Heavenly Mother, those who I have sought after help for, from earth and from heaven, are only my great-grandson Mosaku, now eight years old, and his older sister Hayashi who now prostrates herself before Thee. As Thou can see, she is not yet even old enough to take a husband. If now some misfortune were to fall upon Mosaku’s person, tomorrow the Inamis would come to lack for an heir. So that such disgrace does not occur, I beg that Thee watch over Mosaku. The belief of a lowly being such as myself being unnecessary, I beg that at least Thou protect Mosaku as long as I draw breath. I am aged, and I do not have long to dedicate my soul to Our Lord Above. But until then, if some unforeseen calamity does not befall my great-granddaughter Hayashi, she may yet reach marriable age. I beg of Thee, my eyes shut, that Thy divine compassion Thou may see it that the Angel of Death’s sword does not touch Mosaku.’****
“Her head bowed, Hayashi’s great-grandmother finished her passionate plea. When she had finished her words, Hayashi timidly lifted her eyes to the Maria Kannon. It might have been her imagination, but it looked as if it was smiling. Naturally she yelped and clutched at her great-grandmother’s knee again. But hunched over in satisfaction, she said:
“’Well, let’s get out of here. Maria Kannon has received this old woman’s prayers.” She repeated this over and over.
“The next day, just as her great-grandmother had begged, Mosaku’s fever had gone down from the day before. Until then he had been as if in a daze, but his consciousness gradually returned. Her great-grandmother’s joy at seeing this was evident from her incessant talking. Her constant tears of happiness were unforgettable to Inami’s mother. Before long, seeing Mosaku sleeping soundly, it was her intention to take a break from her long vigil over him. Rarely for her, she made a bed in the room next to Mosaku and laid down there.
“At that time, Hayashi was sitting by her great-grandmother’s bedside playing with her toys, and she noticed that the dowager looked as if she was so exhausted all the vitality had gone out of her. When she would fall asleep she looked as though she were dead. Nevertheless, about an hour later, the elderly nurse who had been looking after Mosaku quietly slid open the door to the adjacent room and said, in a fluster, “Mistress, would you please rouse the dowager?” So Hayashi, being a child, immediately went to her great-grandmother’s side and called her name two or three times while tugging on sleeve of her gown. But for some reason, on today of all days, much Hayashi called her name the ordinarily sharp woman did not seem to respond. Soon the nurse, suspicious, came in from the sick room. When she saw the dowager’s face, she abruptly clung to her sleeve and began crying out in a frantic, strained voice, “Ma’am! Ma’am!” as if she were mad. But the great-grandmother continued to sleep without moving, the area around her eyes still a faint purple. Before long another nurse hurriedly opened the sliding door and entered, her face pale. “Ma’am—the master—ma’am…” she called out in a quaking voice. Of course, the nurse’s “Master” came clear to Hayashi’s ears, and she understood that Mosaku’s condition had changed. But her great-grandmother, as if she could not hear the sobbing of the nurse at the foot of her bed, kept her eyes closed…
“Mosaku breathed his last less than ten minutes later. As Maria Kannon had promised, Mosaku had not been killed as long as his great-grandmother lived.
His story finished, Tashiro lifted his gloomy eyes to my face.
“Well? Do you think this legend really happened?”
I hesitated. “Well—but—what do you think?”
Tashiro was silent for a moment. But before long, lighting his smoldering pipe, he said, “I do think it really happened. But I have my doubts as to whether or not it was the fault of Inami’s Virgin Mary. Haven’t you read the inscription on the Maria Kannon’s pedestal yet? Please take a look. It’s written here in Latin: desine fata deum lecti sperare.***** It means, ‘Do not hope to change the will of the gods by prayer…’”
Involuntarily I turned my uneasy gaze on the Maria Kannon as if it itself had led to this destiny. Still clad in black, the sneer persisted, coldly betraying some ill will on that nevertheless beautiful ivory face.
(April 1920)
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* I indulged myself a little on this title. A more direct translation would be something like “Black-clad Virgin Mary,” but I think the title as-is is so much more evocative.
**This selection is not actually from “Scripture.” It comes from a hymn which took me a while to find. “Valley of tears” ended up being the shibboleth for this bit.
***Here’s an example of a Maria Kannon from Wikipedia.
****Translating this religious language is very difficult for any number of reasons. I have basically tried to make them sound like generic Catholic prayers because they are what I am familiar with, but other stories with Japanese Christians have them speaking in language much more informed by Buddhism. The great-grandmother’s prayers lean a little more towards Christianity. I have generally adapted any honorific language as thees and thous, which are probably used incorrectly. Explicitly Buddhist language remains explicitly Buddhist. I do not pretend to be an expert in this field.
*****Akutagawa wrote this in Latin characters in the original story.