The Story of Princess Hase

The Story of Princess Hase: A Story of Old Japan Many, many years ago in Nara, the ancient Capital of Japan, there lived Prince Toyonari Fujiwara and his wife Princess Murasaki. The young couple, though very happy together, had one great sorrow—they had been unable to have a child. This made them very unhappy, for they both longed to see a child of their own who would grow up to gladden their old age, carry on the family name, and keep up the ancestral rites after they passed At last, one day, a daughter was born to Princess Murasaki. They named her Hase-Hime or Princess of Hase, as they felt she was a gift from Hase-no-Kwannon or the Goddess of Mercy at Hase. When the little girl turned five years old, her mother fell dangerously ill. Before she passed, she told her daughter: “Hase-Hime, you must grow up a good girl. Do your best not to cause trouble. If your father remarries, please be obedient. Respect your elders and be kind to everyone.” Hase-Hime listened while her mother spoke, and promised to do all that she was told. There is a proverb which says “As the soul is at three so it is at one hundred,” and so Hase-Hime grew up as her mother had wished, a good and obedient little Princess. Prince Toyonari remarried to a woman named Princess Terute, a cruel woman who was incredibly unkind to her stepdaughter, but Hase-Hime bore every unkindness with patience and obedience so much so that her stepmother had no true cause for complaint. The little Princess was very diligent, and her favorite studies were music and poetry. She would spend several hours practicing every day, and her father had the most proficient of masters he could find to teach her the koto (Japanese harp), the art of writing letters and verse. When she was twelve years of age she could play so beautifully that she and her step-mother were summoned to the Palace to perform before the Emperor. It was the Cherry Blossom Festival, and there were great festivities at the Court. The Emperor threw himself into the enjoyment of the season, and commanded that Princess Hase perform before him on the koto, and that Princess Terute should accompany her on the flute. The Emperor sat on a raised dais, before which was hung a curtain of finely-sliced bamboo and purple tassels, so that His Majesty might see all and not be seen, for no ordinary subject was allowed to look upon his sacred face. Hase-Hime was a skilled musician and though so young, often astonished her masters by her wonderful memory and talent. On this momentous occasion she played well. But Princess Terute, her step-mother, who was a lazy woman, never took the trouble to practice daily. She broke down in her accompaniment and had to request one of the Court ladies to take her place. This was a great disgrace, and she was furiously jealous to think that she had failed where her step-daughter succeeded; and to make matters worse the Emperor sent many beautiful gifts to the little Princess to reward her for playing so well at the Palace. There was also another reason why Princess Terute hated her step-daughter, for she had had the good fortune to have a son born to her, and she kept thinking: “If only Hase-Hime were not here, my son would have all the love of his father.” And this terrible thought grew into the awful desire to get rid of her stepdaughter. In a turn of events, after concocting a horrible plan to serve her stepdaughter food that would make her ill, her son accidentally ate it and did not survive. Thus the wicked woman was punished in losing her own child when she had tried to do away with her step-daughter; but instead of blaming herself she began to hate Hase-Hime more than ever in the bitterness and wretchedness of her own heart, and she eagerly watched for an opportunity to do her harm. When Hase-Hime was thirteen years of age, she had already become mentioned as a poetess of some merit. This was an accomplishment very much cultivated by the women of old Japan and one held in high esteem. It was the rainy season at Nara, river Tatsuta, which flowed through the Imperial Palace grounds, was swollen to the top of its banks and floods were reported every day as doing damage in the neighborhood. The Emperor announced An Imperial Edict was sent forth to all the Buddhist temples asking for their help to stop the rain. It was then that people remembered a story in which a talented poetess had been able to appeal to the gods by reading a poem. Hase-Hime was immediately enlisted for such a task. Hase-Hime was terrified of the responsibility put on her shoulders, but she set out to work on such a poem. Upon completion, she went before the Emperor’s palace and read it. Strange indeed it seemed to all those standing round. The waters ceased their roaring, and the river was quiet in direct answer to her words. After this the Emperor soon recovered his health. His Majesty was highly pleased, and sent for her to the Palace and rewarded her with the rank of Chinjo—that of Lieutenant-General—to distinguish her. From that time she was called Chinjo-hime, or the Lieutenant-General Princess, and respected and loved by all. There was only one person who was not pleased at Hase-Hime’s success-- her stepmother. Her envy and jealousy burned in her heart like fire. Many were the lies she carried to her husband about Hase-Hime, but all to no avail. He would listen to none of her tales, telling her sharply that she was quite mistaken. Her stepmother, seizing the opportunity of her husband’s absence due to a business trip, decided to try to get rid of Hase-Hime once more. She ordered a servant to take her out into the Hibari Mountains and abandon her there. As a servant must obey the Princess at all costs, he took Hase-Hime but had already thought of a plan to keep her safe. The servant had arranged for his wife to meet him out in the mountains so that they never had to return and together they built a cottage where they cared for Hase-Hime. When Prince Tovonari returned home after many weeks, he was told by his wife that his daughter had done something wrong and had run away for fear of being punished. He was nearly ill with anxiety. Every one in the house told the same story—that Hase-Hime had suddenly disappeared, none of them knew why or where. He searched everywhere he could think of and still didn’t find her. Finally, he ordered a search party into the Hibari Mountains. As they rode into the mountains, Prince Tovonari noticed a tiny house on one of the hills and then he distinctly heard a beautiful clear voice reading aloud. He hurried on to the tiny gate and entered the little garden, and looking up beheld his lost daughter Hase-Hime. She was so intent on what she was saying that she neither heard nor saw her father till he spoke. “Hase-Hime!” he cried, “it is you, my Hase-Hime!” “My father, my father! It is indeed you—oh, my father!” was all she could say, and running to him she caught hold of his sleeve, burying her face and burst into tears. It was then that the servant appeared and told Prince Tovonari his wife’s terrible plan and how they ended up in the cottage. News of Prince Toyonari finding his daughter arrived at the palace before he had returned and Princess Terute, terrified of facing her husband now that he knew what she did, fled immediately never to be heard from again. The servant was rewarded with the highest promotion and lived happily to the end of his days, devoted to the little Princess, who never forgot that she owed him her life. She was no longer troubled by an unkind step-mother, and her days passed happily and quietly with her father. As Prince Toyonari had no son, he adopted a younger son of one of the Court nobles to be his heir, and to marry his daughter Hase-Hime. Hase-Hime lived to a good old age, and all said that she was the wisest, most devout, and most beautiful person that had ever reigned in Prince Toyonari’s ancient house. She had the joy of presenting her son, the future lord of the family, to her father just before he retired from active life. To this day there is preserved a piece of needle-work in one of the Buddhist temples of Kyoto. It is a beautiful piece of tapestry, with the figure of Buddha embroidered in the silky threads drawn from the stem of the lotus. This is said to have been the work of the hands of the good Princess Hase. The end.