Folk Legends of Japan, page 10
It is said that every year after that, on the anniversary of his death, one or two cupfuls of rice would appear on the lid of the pot. In fact, later on, during the Ansei era [1854-59] in the time of Zenemon, the latter one morning found a handful of rice on the pot. He removed it, but soon another handful of rice appeared on the same spot. Thinking that this strange event was caused by the dead soul of Ichijiro, Zenemon had a memorial service held for Ichijiro's soul by the priest of Eisho-ji.
Thereafter nothing strange occurred any more.
THE SEVEN BLIND MINSTRELS
Motif M411.3, "Dying man's curse," and M442.1 "Curse: descendants to be un-shapely," are present. Mitford writes: "The belief in curses hanging over families for generations is as common as that in ghosts and supernatural apparitions" (p. 187). He then relates a tradition of a curse visited on the house of Asai by a concubine cruelly beaten by her lord, who put out her left eye with a candlestick and then killed her. He and his descendants lost their left eyes at forty and soon after died.
Text from Kotaro Hayakawa, Tabi to Densetsu, I (October, 1928), p. 25.
AT THE BORDER of Shimo Tsugu-mura, Kita Shidara-gun, Aichi-ken, alongside the road leading to Futto of Furikusa-mura, there stand seven round stones in a row which are called the tombs of Shichinin Zato [Seven Blind Minstrels]. As one goes on and passes those tombs, the road slopes down. This slope is called Sando-no-saka [Blind Minstrels' Slope].
Long ago seven blind minstrels who traveled together lost their way at this slope. They asked the road of a man who was cutting the grass nearby. He told them the wrong way on purpose. So the blind men lost their way in the mountains. When they reached the top of the slope and came to the pool now called Biwa-buchi [Pool of the Lute], they could go neither forward nor back, and all seven fell down together into the pool and died.
Thereafter, because of the curse of these blind minstrels, the family of the man who gave them the wrong directions has suffered from sore eyes in each generation up to the present day. Once a member of the family had eyes carved on the tombstones of the blind men, perhaps because he thought he could console their spirits that way. So now all those stones have eyes carved upon them.
It is told, however, that this had no effect.
THE REVENGEFUL SPIRIT OF MASAKADO
"Dying man's curse," Motif M411.3, also occurs here. Onryo is the term here translated as "revengeful spirit."
Text from Edo no Kohi to Densetsu, pp. 6-8.
Notes: Kanda Myojin, one of Tokyo's major Shinto shrines; within its precincts is a shrine to Taira no Masakado, leader of the unsuccessful Tenkei Rebellion, during which he declared himself emperor of eastern Japan. Yujoya, a pleasure house, courtesan house. Musashi Province included what is now Tokyo.
MASAKADO FOUGHT against Hidesato at Nakano-ga-hara in Musashi Province in the third year of Tenkei [940]. He was shot in the shoulder by Taira Sadamori and grappled down by Fujiwara Chiharu, and his head was cut off. Thereafter Masakado's spirit remained on the field of Nakano and caused suffering to the people of the vicinity in many ways. In the eastern districts of Japan Masakado's spirit effected various miracles, but to the people who had some blood connection with Hidesato, his spirit caused fierce spells. Especially in the Sano family it was forbidden to go to the Kanda Myojin Shrine, because the Sano were the descendants of Hidesato. The Sano house at Ogawa-machi in Kanda was very near the Kanda Myojin, so on the festival day at this shrine the gate of the house was not opened to anyone; on ordinary days every person of the Sano house was forbidden to walk in front of the shrine.
During the Anei era [1770-80], a samurai named Kanda Oribe lived at Kobinatadai-machi. This man was a descendant of Masakado and wore his crest. His close companion Sano Goemon lived at Yushima. One day Sano dropped in at Kanda's on his way back from his official duties, as they were intimate friends. They had a good time together, and after a while Kanda said: "I shall take you to a fine place." And he took Sano to a yujoya named Kashiwaya, near Akagi Shrine.
At the time Sano had been wearing ceremonial dress. But it was ridiculous to go to a yujoya dressed thus, so Kanda lent Sano an informal cloak with the Masakado crest on it.
While they were making merry at the yujoya, Sano's face suddenly turned pale, sweat poured from his brow, and he fainted in agony. In a moment the circumstances were entirely changed. In confusion, they called for doctors and medicine. Kanda hired a sedan chair and sent Sano to his home.
Kanda was so anxious about his friend that he hurried over early next morning to see him. However, Sano came briskly out of his room and said: "Last night I shivered and fainted. After shivering and fainting I fell unconscious until they took off that cloak of yours I was wearing. "When I went into bed, I immediately recovered. And now I feel just as well as usual. This probably happened because I borrowed your cloak with your crest on it. Maybe Masakado's spirit put a spell on me."
So Kanda was also convinced of the power of his ancestor's spell, and he apologized to Sano for his carelessness.
THE EVIL SPIRIT OF FUSATARO
The term mamono which is translated here as "evil spirit" contains also the idea of magic (ma). Motif D 1840.1, "Magic invulnerability of saints," appears.
Text from Densetsu no Echigo to Sado, II, pp. 129-32.
IT WAS DURING the Enryaku era [782-806]. The district now called Kariha-gun was then called the province of Samizu and was governed by Kiemon of Sekiya. One evening a fine-looking boy came from somewhere and called at Kiemon's house. He asked Kiemon to let him stay as a servant. Kiemon felt a little suspicious, but the boy, with his fine features and good manners, did not seem to be a vulgar country lad. Moreover, he was young and his request was so earnest that Kiemon granted it and let him enter the house. The boy called himself Fusataro. As he was amiable, he attracted everybody in the house. He spent some years in Kiemon's house, loved by everybody. However, there was one strange thing about Fusataro. Every night he went away somewhere. Where did he go, and for what business? All the people of the house talked it over. Someone followed after him one night but he lost Fusataro's trail on the way. It was reported the next morning that a traveler had been killed at Sekiya, and a dead body was carried away.
Once, in those days, St. Dengyo came to preach in the province of Echigo and stayed one night at Sekiya. It was a very warm summer night. He was in bed half-awake and half-sleeping. A warm wind blew in, and in an instant a specter holding a big sword in his hand appeared by the pillow. Just at the moment that the sword touched the saint's neck, the saint turned aside, held up his scepter, and struck off the specter's arm with it. The specter picked up his arm and disappeared.
The next morning the saint found many bloodstains here and there in the room. He followed the bloodstains. The bloodstains led him to Kiemon's house. The saint met Kiemon and told him all about the event of the night before. Kiemon guessed that it was Fusataro's doing and searched for Fusataro, but he was not to be found anywhere. But they found the bloodstains continuing from Kiemon's house up to the nearby mountain. Following the bloodstains, they came to a rock cave. Kiemon called out loudly: "Fusataro, Fusataro." Instantly the door of the cave was opened. Inside the cave was a bloody Fusataro, standing like a demon. "Fusataro, you are really a specter!"
No sooner had Kiemon spoken these words than Fusataro's knife gouged out Kiemon's left eye. Then immediately St. Dengyo, through his religious powers, seized Fusataro and cut his body in three parts. He buried the parts on a mountain that marked the border of Samizu, and built a temple for Fusataro's soul there.
Now it is said that there are still three mounds on that mountain, called Kubi-zuka [Head Mound], Hara-zuka [Torso Mound], and Ashi-zuka [Leg Mound].
THE WEAVING SOUND IN THE WATER
The Minzokugaku Jiten under "Hataori Fuchi" (Weaver's Pool Legend), comments on the connection between this densetsu and ancient festivals in which a village maiden weaves cloth, in a sacred cottage by a holy pond, for the robe of a god who comes from the sea or river. Mockjoya, IV, pp. 32-33, "River Bottom Weaver," says: "Tales of the sound of weaving looms being heard from the bottom of streams or ponds are told in many parts of the country. This type of legend is said to have developed from the ancient custom of weaving and sewing new clothes for the local kami for the annual festival." He then gives two examples, one of human sacrifice and one of suicide. In Yanagita, Mountain Village Life, p. 398, the weaving lady is reported from the bottom of a waterfall basin in Kameyama-mura.
Text from Tosa no Fusoku to Densetsu, p. 77.
A LONG TIME AGO there was a woman named Osen at Otochi, Makiyama-mura, Kami-gun. She was about twenty-five years old. Though not particularly pretty, she was gentle and kindhearted, and so she was loved by her neighbors. Now in Otochi there was a famous vine bridge. Its length was thirty-six yards and it also hung at a height of thirty-six yards above the river. When a person walked on this bridge it rocked so much that even those who got used to it were sometimes afraid to pass over it.
One day Osen crossed this bridge carrying a loom on her head. When she came to the middle of the bridge, she missed her footing and tumbled into the water. It was a pity that she fell into such a fathomless pool and was drowned with no one to give her succor. Strangely, both her dead body and the loom sank into the water and did not come to the surface again.
After that people who passed on this bridge at night often heard a woman's voice along with the sound of weaving.
It is also told that there was a woman who saw a long sash in the water under the bridge and fainted with surprise.
THE PHANTOM BOAT
Funa-yurei, "phantom boat," is described in the Minzokugaku Jiten. "Every village investigated has a story of a ghost boat," reports Yanagita, Fishing Village Life, and mentions this tradition from Shigaura-mura: "When the south wind blows and it is raining, a ghost boat is apt to appear all of a sudden before their boat, against which it seems to collide and then it disappears. It is good to try to urinate on it" (pp. 188-89). Hearn heard a sailor on the coastal sea tell of two ghost ships, a junk and a steamer. "As long as they come behind you, you need never be afraid. But if you see a ship of that sort running before you, against the wind, that is very bad! It means that all on board will be drowned." (VI, ch. 23, "From Hoki to Oki," pp. 261-62.) Motif D1812.5.1.10, "Sight of phantom ship a bad omen," is pertinent.
Text from Keigo Seki, Tabi to Densetsu, 1 (April, 1928), pp. 100-01.
"IT WAS a mild autumn evening. A gentle west wind was blowing. Although our boat was under full sail, it did not move so swiftly as to prevent our being at ease while steering. We were homeward bound from the sea of Satsuma, where we had been engaged in fishing. Our craft was sailing between Amakusa Island and Chijiiwa Bay. Mt. Unzen hove in sight, and we expected to reach shore by daybreak. The boatmen were all asleep. Only I was awake, steering the boat.
"It was perhaps a little after midnight when I became drowsy. I was about to smoke tobacco. Then I heard the sound of a boat moving on our left. Wonderingly I looked up. I saw a sailing ship going ahead at great speed against the wind. It was indeed strange. But I hesitated to wake up the other men, who were sleeping peacefully, so I watched the mysterious vessel with close attention. The ship was drawing near. Although it was still at some distance, I could see the ship so clearly that if some acquaintance had been on board I could have recognized him. The ship had only one side. The yard was just set on the mast without braces. Yet the ship was sailing safely in the face of the wind. The people on board were crying out, but I could not hear them well.
"It is a custom at sea that if we are spoken to by another ship, we are obliged to answer them. But if we know that it is not an ordinary ship, then we should not answer. I hear that the people on such boats often demand that we lend them a pail to bail water out of their boat. Then we must lend them a bottomless pail. Otherwise they will pour water into our boat with that pail and make us sink into the sea.
"I answered the ship as usual. Then the boat came nearer and nearer. I saw some pale men standing in a row and crying aloud. For the first time in my life I saw with my own eyes what I had been told about by other people. It was the so-called 'phantom-boat.' So close had it already approached that there seemed to be no way to avoid a collision. Without any forethought, I called out to my mates at that moment. I thought the ship struck against our boat, and I lost my senses. I remained senseless until I was awakened by my mates some time afterwards. Then I learned from them that the ghost ship had attacked us once more that night.
"I was only twenty years old at the time. Shocked by the horror of it all, I lay on the bottom of our boat and had a nightmare every night for a week. Even now, when I think of that I feel my hair stand erect with fright. I have had similar experiences several times since then."
An old fisherman told me this story.
ONE HUNDRED RECITED TALES
This story about storytelling illustrates the belief that a group of people reciting monogatari expect something evil to happen. Mockjoya, II, pp. 146-49, speaks of "Ghost Stories," and the custom of holding obake storytelling sessions on summer evenings in eerie surroundings. Mitford sets down several weird tales of "Ghostly apparitions, related one cold night in Edo by Japanese friends huddled around the brazier" (in "The Ghost of Sakura," pp. 185-87).
Text from Chiisagata-gun Mintan Shu, pp. 270-71.
A YOUNG NOVICE of a temple invited his friends over and they decided to tell one hundred tales. So they put up one hundred lighted candles in the hall of the temple. When one person finished a story in the other room, he was to come to the hall and blow out one candle. The most timid person was to begin, and the bravest one was to go last. Finally this novice and the son of the village headman remained as the last ones. Only two candles were left lighted. Then these were blown out too. Having finished the hundred stories, most of the boys went home. It was very late.
Two boys stayed in the temple with the novice. Two of the three went to sleep, but the son of the village headman stayed awake. He heard something in the room. He looked around. There appeared a ghost who picked up the novice in his quilts and carried him away. After a while the ghost came again and this time carried away the son of the sword dealer. The headman's son called out the names of the two boys, but no answer came. "They must have died. My turn will come next."
While he was thus affrighted, the first morning cock crowed. So he rose and went home. He visited the shrine to pray that such a fearful thing would never happen again.
Every time he visited the shrine he met the same girl on his way back. Gradually they became intimate, and finally they married. One evening his wife stayed in the kitchen for such a long time that the husband peeped in. The wife was blowing the fire with a hollow length of bamboo, and her face looked just like that of the ghost he had seen in the temple. Fearfully, he remembered the night just a year ago when they had recited tales. He cried out. His wife immediately ran to him and blew a breath in his face.
The husband died on the spot from that breath.
PART FOUR
TRANSFORMATIONS
ONE COMMON THEME in Japanese legendry is the changing of shape by supernatural beings. In English folklore the witch customarily shifts her form for purposes of enchantment and bedevilment, taking a variety of animal guises. This situation is doubly reversed in Japan, where beasts, primarily serpents and foxes, take on the appearance of beautiful maidens, to seduce and even mate with mortals. Sometimes in the legends the serpent comes as a man, and sometimes a seemingly normal human being is transformed into a snake and consigned to the bottom of a pond. Serpents are usually involved in tragic romances, while foxes carry on a good deal of mischievous activity, of which seduction forms but one aspect. Badgers are also much given to illusory impersonations, although on the whole they are less feared than foxes and seem more easily apprehended. The anthropomorphic as well as the animal deities too take on human forms, appearing as beggars or forlorn women to test the piety of the folk. If aggrieved, they can permanently transform the impious mortals they meet into rocks or rats. The world revealed in these transformation legends suggests the universe of the North American Indians, whose tales describe courtships between warriors and deer-maidens and the adventures of a trickster culture-hero who assumes chameleon shapes. But the Indian legends are set in the depths of the forest, while the Japanese densetsu take place in towns and castles and even in the modern metropolis.
THE SERPENT SUITOR
This is one of the most popular of all Japanese tales, occurring both as fiction and as legend. Ikeda reports ninety-seven versions collected from all over Japan, besides appearances in literary classics such as the Kojiki and Shaku Nihongi, and instances from Korea, China, and Formosa (pp. 125-26). She identifies it as Type 425C ("The Girl as the Bear's Wife") calling it "Snake Husband." Thompson has the pertinent Motif T475.1, "Unknown paramour discovered by string clue," with solely Japanese references. Ikeda reports that the legendary form is attached to important local families who claim to be descendants of snakes.
Legends of a threaded needle used to detect a serpent-lover appear in W. Alexander, "Legends of Shikoku," New Japan, V (1952), pp. 566, 579, "Dragon Spawn"; De Visser, "The Snake in Japanese Superstition," pp. 277-78; Murai, pp. 62-67, "Huge Serpent of Nameri Pond"; Suzuki, pp. 51-52, "The Serpent Grove." The lasciviousness of the serpent is mentioned by Anesaki, p. 332. Under "Irui Kyukontan" (Tales of Marriage between Humans and Non-human Creatures), the Minzokugaku Jiten classifies four forms of snake-bridegroom tales. The present story falls into the so-called spool type.
