Читать книгу Folk Legends of Japan - Richard M. Dorson - Страница 12

PART ONE

PRIESTS, TEMPLES, AND SHRINES

IN JAPAN the religion and lore of the folk merge in a common realm of popular beliefs. The development of Shintoism from primitive nature worship, and the sixth-century importation of Buddhism from China via Korea, merely increased the variety of religious legends circulating among the villagers. Shintoism contributed the veneration of departed spirits, particularly of angry ones, and Shinto shrines proliferated endlessly with each new passionate or noble death. Hence legendary traditions gathered about each shrine, no matter how tiny or humble, for each embalmed a story. Most of the hundred thousand shrines belong to the folk, in distinction to large famous shrines, which employ salaried priests and hold colorful festivals. Buddhism too, while introducing a subtle philosophy with complex ritual, at the folk level scattered miraculous tales about Buddhist priests and statues. The images of Buddha were said to whine and writhe if robbers carried them off. A mass of legends clustered around Kobo Daishi, or St. Kobo (774-835), founder of the Shingon sect of Buddhism, whose esoteric formulas appealed to the magic-minded common people. In the guise of a wandering beggar Kobo Daishi rewarded the generous and punished the greedy, much like St. Peter in Christian legend. Numerous, devoutly believed stories tell of Buddhist priests laying troubled spirits. East or West, the folk mind shuns abstract doctrine for the vivid, concrete tale dramatizing the supernatural power of gods and priests. In Japan, such legendary histories cling to shrine and temple, and are even dispensed by the priestly class, proud of the individual acts of faith and sacrifice connected with their particular sanctuaries.

SAINT KOBO'S WELL

This and the following four legends deal with the miracles of Koho Daishi. The present one, where he brings forth a well with his cane or staff, is widely told. See Japanese Folklore Dictionary, "Koboshimizu" (Kobo's well); Yanagita, Mountain Village Life, ch. 59, p. 420 (where the miracle is also credited to St. Rennyo). On pp. 432-33 a story is told of a man in Takaoka-mura who prayed at a temple to be cured of eye trouble, and was told by a god in a dream to dig under a certain Japanese cedar tree by the temple, where he would find a well dug by St. Kobo; he washed his eyes in the well water and was cured. Suzuki, pp. 16-17, "The Well that Kobo Daishi Dug," gives an extra twist to the usual form by having St. Kobo's bamboo stick fly three miles away and take root upside down.

For Christian counterparts of this legend see Motif F933.1, "Miraculous spring bursts forth for holy person." The Kobo Daishi legends belong under the general motif Q1.1, "Saints in disguise reward hospitality and punish in hospitality."

General accounts of Kobo Daishi can be found in Anesaki, pp. 251-53: U. A. Casal, "The Saintly Kobo Daishi in Popular Lore (A.D. 774-835)," Folklore Studies, XVIII (Tokyo, 1959), pp. 95-144; Hearn, V, ch. 2, "The Writings of Kobodaishi"; Ikeda, II, pp. 209-11; Joly, pp. 183-84, "Kobodaishi"; Mock Joya, IV, pp. 21-22, "Kobo Daishi"; de Visser, The Dragon in China and Japan, pp. 162-64, 202, 206; de Visser, "The Fox and Badger in Japanese Folklore," pp. 112-13,136-37.

Text from Kunio Yanagita, "Folk Talesfrom Hachinoe," in Mukashi-banashi Kenkyu, II (Tokyo, 1937), p. 288. Collected by Kimura, 1936.

THERE IS a spring by the name of St. Kobo's Well in the village of Muramatsu, Ninohe-gun. The following story concerning this well is told in this district. A girl was once weaving alone at her home. An old man, staggering, came by there and asked her for a cup of water. She walked over the hill more than a thousand yards away and brought back water for the visitor. The old man was pleased with her kindness and said that he would make her free from such painful labor. After saying this, he struck the ground with his cane. While he was striking, water sprang forth from the point struck by his cane. That spring was called St. Kobo's Welt.

The old man who could do such a miraculous deed was thought to be St. Kobo, however poor and weak he might look.

THE WILLOW WELL OF KOBO

A variant of the above. Text from Edo no Kohi to Densetsu, no. 17, p. 45.

Note: Kashima, a large shrine where warriors prayed before going into battle.

THERE IS a well in the compound of Zempuku-ji in Azabu. In ancient times while Kobo Daishi was staying in this temple, in order to get the water for offering to the Buddha, he put his staff into the ground, praying to the god of the Kashima Shrine. Then clear water gushed forth. Later Kobo Daishi planted a willow tree by the well to commemorate it forever. So it is called the Willow Well.

THE KOBO CHESTNUT TREES

Ikeda refers to this legend and assigns it Type 750 B, "Hospitality Rewarded."

Text from Aichi-ken Densetsu Shu, p. 223.

IN THE mountains around Fukiage Pass in Nagura-mura, Kita Shidaragun, grow chestnut trees called Kobo chestnuts. Those trees bear fruit very young, even when they are only three feet high.

Hundreds of years ago there was a big chestnut tree on this pass. Boys would rush to climb it to pick the chestnuts, but little children could not climb the tree. One day while they were weeping, a traveling priest passed by, saw the little children crying, and said: "Well, you shall be able to pick the chestnuts from next year on."

The next year every small young chestnut tree bore fruit so that the little children could pick them easily. The villagers thought that the traveling priest must have been St. Kobo, and since then they have called these the Kobo chestnut trees.

THE WATERLESS RIVER IN TAKIO

In some variants potatoes grow hard as stones after they are refused to Kobo. A story from Mimino-mura, in Yanagita, Mountain Village Life, p. 407 (in ch. 56, "Curses of the Gods"), tells of a river turning dry after a man refused a beggar a piece of radish he was washing. Elisseeff, pp. 287-88, reviewing Otari Kohishu by Naotaro Koike, summarizes a legend of greedy fishermen who refuse fish to a begging bonze; he throws a sheet of paper into the water, and thenceforth the fish disappear from the river. Ikeda, pp. 210-11, analyzes the tale under Type 751, "The Greedy Peasant Woman." An unusual variant in Murai, pp. 68-69, "Maid-enhair Tree of Yoshida," tells of a woman who refused a night's lodging to a traveler; he says that leaves and snow will fall; after the snotv falls, his footprints remain in the drifts; it was St. Kobo. Since then people believe a heavy snow follows the falling of leaves.

Text from Bungo Densetsu Shu, p. 28. Told by Mitsuko Shikishima.

A LONG TIME AGO a farmer's wife was washing sweet potatoes in a stream near Ikarijima. A poor, dirty-looking priest came from somewhere and asked her: "Please give me a potato. I am too hungry to walk on."

But the woman refused him, saying: "I have no potatoes to give you."

The priest, feeble and low of spirit, went along. Strange to say, the waters of the stream disappeared at that moment and never ran again. Since then the villagers have suffered much for lack of water. The upper and lower reaches of the river have water, and only the part that runs through that village is dry.

The people say that this was done by St. Kobo in order to reprove the woman for her unkindness.

THE STREAM WHERE KOBO WASHED HIS GARMENT

Text from Shimane-ken Kohi Densetsu Shu, Mino-gun no. 7, pp. 5-6.

LONG AGO Kobo Daishi went on a pilgrimage throughout the country. He came to Momotomataga in Toyoda-mura, and he took off his dirty clothes. He washed them in the Hinomoto River. The villagers who saw him did not know that he was a virtuous priest, and criticized him for washing dirty clothes. St. Kobo went away without saying anything. He went to Takatsu-mura, and he washed his clothes on the bank in Suko. For this reason, in Momotomataga the river dries up in summer and people often suffer from lack of water. On the other hand, in Suko, through the mercy of the priest, no one has drowned in the river.

At present almost every year the water is dried up in Hinomoto and gushes out in Kadoi.

THE PRIEST'S TOWEL

Motif Q1.1, "Saints in disguise reward hospitality and punish in hospitality," also applies here. A Korean legend of Merciful Buddha disguised as a beggar, which fits into the pattern of this and the preceding tales, is in Zong In-Sob, Folk Tales from Korea (London, 1952), no. 27, pp. 45-46, "The Lake of Zangje." Chinese legendary tales of Lu Tung-pin appearing as a beggar to test mortals are in Wolfram Eberhard, Chinese Fairy Tales and Folk Tales (New York, 1938), nos. 74, 76, 77, pp. 220-21, 222-24.

Text from Kunio Yanagita, "Folk Tales from Hachinohe," Mukashi-banashi Kenkyu, II (Tokyo, 1937), pp. 329-30. Collected by Ishiyama.

Notes: Tenugui, a Japanese-style towel or face-cloth (see Mock Joya, II, pp. 72-73)- Mochi, cakes made from pounded, glutinous rice.

THE YOUNG WIFE of a household kindly gave a piece of mochi to a traveling priest who came by the door. Afterwards, her mother-in-law counted the pieces of mochi and realized that the young wife had given one to the priest. She scolded the young wife and sent her to regain the mochi from the priest. When the priest heard the young wife's honest plea, he not only returned to her the mochi, but also gave her a tenugui, praising her gentleness.

Acting on his suggestion, the young wife wiped her face with that tenugui every day. Then her face became extremely beautiful. The mother-in-law envied her and borrowed her tenugui to use it herself. However, the mother-in-law's face gradually became horselike and at last it turned into a horse's face.

The daughter-in-law felt very sorry for her and went to the priest and begged him to turn the mother's face back to normal. The priest said that when a greedy woman wiped her face with the tenugui, her face would turn into a horse's face, and he instructed her to tell the mother-in-law to rub her face with the reverse side of the tenugui. The young wife hastily went home and relayed the instructions to her mother-in-law. When the mother did as she was told, her face became as it had been before.

And thereafter she turned into a good-hearted woman and loved her daughter-in-law.

THE KANNON WHO SUBSTITUTED

The theme of the Buddhist deity assuming the guise of a pious worshiper to ward off injury or death to the mortal occurs frequently in Japanese religious legends. Suzuki, pp. 65-68, "The Living Headless Priest," has a clay image of Kannon take the form of Priest Baizan to save him from the murderous sword strokes of his host. Murai, p. 10, "Six Jizo," tells of an image of Jizo that bears a sword scar meant for a boy. In the Japan Times for February 23, 1957, Mock Joya recounts the legend of "One-Eyed Emma," the statue enshrined at Genkaku-ji, Hatsune-cho, Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo, which gouged out its own eye to save the sight of a poor old lady bringing her offerings. Under "Weeping Buddha" in the Japan Times of March 9, 1957, Mock Joy a tells how the painting of Fudo, the God of Fire, shed bloody tears and took to itself the sickness of his young worshiper Shoku, in the thirteenth century; the painting with its bloodstained tears was later placed in Mii-dera, Otsu, Shiga-ken.

Text from Bungo Densetsu Shu, p. no.

Note: Kannon, a Buddhist bodhisattva, commonly known as the Goddess of Mercy.

LOOKING UP from a small village nestled at the foot of a certain mountain, one can see a little shrine of Kannon on the very top. A young couple used to live in that village. The wife, for all her youth, believed in Kannon with utmost sincerity. Every night, after she had finished her daily housework she visited the shrine to worship the image. Her husband did not know the reason for her going and became suspicious of the wife who went out and returned to the house every night at the same time. One day he finally lost patience with his wife and determined to kill her. So he hid in the dark woods by the roadside and waited for his wife to come back. At the usual time she returned. The husband watched her coming near and, carefully aiming at her shoulder, swung down his sword askance. At this moment the wife felt her blood run cold throughout her body.

The husband wiped the blood from his sword and put the sword back in its sheath. When he returned to his home, he was astonished to see his wife, whom he thought he had slashed to death. He marveled, and went back to see the place where he had struck his wife. Sure enough, there were the dots of blood on the ground. He retraced his steps homeward, and asked his wife: "Didn't you feel something strange at such and such a time in such and such a place?" Then the wife answered: "Just at that time something made my blood run cold." The husband could not but confess all that had happened.

The next morning he awakened early and was surprised to see blood dotted all the way from the entrance of his house to the shrine on top of the mountain. When he looked at the statue of Kannon, he was again surprised to see a scar on the statue's shoulder, on the place where he had struck his wife the night before.

Now this Kannon is still popular in the neighboring villages, and they celebrate a festival for her on January 24 every year.

THE STATUE OF BUDDHA AT SAIHO-JI

To the theme of the substituting Buddha are joined here motifs that fall under "Magic Statue" (D1268) and "Images" (V120), and the specific miracle of D1551, "Waters magically divide and close."

Text from Shimane-ken Kohi Densetsu Shu, Ohara-gun, pp. 8-9.

THE PRINCIPAL IMAGE of Saiho-ji at Iida, Sase-mura, Ohara-gun, is the seated statue of Amida Buddha, almost three feet in height. It has a burn on its left cheek. The following story tells the reason why.

A maidservant who worked in the house by the gate of this temple worshiped the image every morning and evening within the temple. For many years she had never failed to do this. Every time she cooked rice, in the morning and in the evening, she took some rice out of the pot and offered it to the image of Buddha. At last this became known to the mistress of the house, who grew enraged and pressed a heated iron rod on the pretty cheek of the maid. With a scream, the poor maid ran out of the house.

That night the master of the house had a strange dream. The shining golden Buddha stood by his pillow and spoke to him: "Your maid has been very pious and worshiped me for a long time. Therefore I substituted myself for her in the time of her disaster." As the master looked at the face of the Buddha, he saw blood running down his left cheek. As soon as he awakened from the vision, he arose and went to the temple. There he was astonished to see the appearance of the image, for blood was running down its cheek. Struck with awe, he returned home and talked with his wife. Greatly disturbed, they looked at the face of the maid, but it was as pretty as before, and bore no trace of injury. They asked her about the event of the previous day, but she answered that she knew nothing of it. At her words the master and the mistress realized that the image of Buddha was really injured in place of the pious maid. The mistress repented of her deed. People who heard of the occurrence were deeply moved by the grace of Buddha and worshiped the image more sincerely than ever.

In later days Lord Matsudaira of this province worshiped this image at Saiho-ji very earnestly. He decided to move the image to the newly built temple of Gessho-ji. According to his order, the holy statue was carried away by forty strong men. On the way they stopped over at Shigaraki Temple. While the image was resting there, it spoke to the priest in a dream: "I want to go back to Saiho-ji." And it shone brightly every night. All the priests thought this strange and reported the matter to the lord. Then the lord issued an order: "Have the sculptor make a statue just like that image and install it in Gessho-ji. As for that image, carry it back to Saiho-ji."

So the people started to take it back to Saiho-ji. Strangely, this time the holy statue became very light and was easily carried by only five or six porters. When they came to the river called Aka-kawa, a storm suddenly arose, and the skies began thundering and hailing. Rapidly the river rose to a great height and was soon impossible to cross. But the porters of the holy image boldly plunged into the water, firm in their belief that the image would protect them from drowning. Indeed, the angry waves immediately subsided and lowered to a heel's height. The porters could easily cross to the other side. But when the other travelers followed the porters and attempted to wade the river, the waters rose up again, and the raging waves overflowed the river banks.

People were filled with awe and spoke to one another about this miracle of Buddha, who, they thought, had subdued the dragon underneath the water.

THE EARLESS JIZO OF SENDATSUNO

The collector points out that Hearn published a similar legend under the title "Mimi-nashi Hoichi" in Kwaidan in 1904, taken from an old Japanese storybook Gayu Kidan (Strange Stories Told While Resting). In Hearn's tale the ghosts of the Heike listen to biwa music in places famed for Heike legends, and at the tomb of the Emperor Antoku.

The small village of Sendatsuno was named for Heike refugees fleeing from the Genji disguised as sendatsu, or guides for mountain pilgrims. The Heike are said to have turned on and killed their pursuers. Many families in the village claim to be Heike descendants. Tombs of the Emperor Antoku and his followers are on nearby hills, and none can approach unless they are barefooted.

Text from Tosa no Densetsu, II, pp. 8-13.

Notes: Jizo, a Buddhist bodhisattva, the guardian deity of children. Biwa, a four-stringed Japanese lute. Heike Monogatari, the tale of the Taira family (Heike) in their bitter struggles with the Minamoto family (Genji).

SOME STORIES MAKE such an impression that, once heard, they can never be forgotten. Such a tale is this.

There is a place called Sendatsuno in the suburbs of Ochi-machi, Takaoka-gun. It is on the way to Matsuyama, over the Ohashi bridge, along the Niyodo River. Long ago an earless Jizo by the name of Mimi-nashi Jizo [Earless Jizo] stood there. This is the legend concerning it.

Once on a time there came wandering into Ochi-machi from the direction of Matsuyama in Iyo a blind biwa-player named Joryo. In those days, that district of Ochi-machi was called Mio-mura, and it was far more lonely than it is today. The chief priest, Senei, lived at that time in the temple Yokokura-ji. He called Joryo to his temple and let him stay there. He asked him to play his biwa before the tablets of the deceased to console their spirits, and sometimes it pleased him to listen to the music himself

Gradually, however, one of the young priests of the temple became aware of a strange, repeated occurrence. Every night Joryo stole out of the temple on tiptoe and came back at dawn. A priest-official, hearing of this, summoned Joryo and asked why he went out nightly. Joryo said: "I am strictly forbidden to speak about this, but since you are a man of the temple from which I receive such great favors, I cannot but tell you the reason."

And he began to talk as follows:

"Every night, at the time of the ne (nowadays 12 midnight), a warrior who seems to be a messenger from a man of high rank comes to this temple to fetch me. As I follow him, we come to a house on a hill. This house is like a court, with long corridors and a wide inner room where there are many women who seem to be court ladies. I am led into this inner room, where I play the biwa and sing for them the Heike Monogatari. But, strangely, I must not utter a word about the Genji. I am told that the site of the court is Mariganaro."

The priest-official was excited to hear this and told the details of the story to the chief priest, Senei. Senei wondered greatly, murmuring: "'Tis a strange story, indeed. In Mariganaro lies the tomb of the Emperor Antoku, who, while very young, sank with the last of the Heike into the sea. To be invited there is truly an honor, but when a man of this world mingles with men from the other world, he is sure, in the end, to become one of them."

Senei sat for a long time before the tablets of the deceased and recited sutras. Then he called Joryo to him and said: "You still belong to this world, certainly. I should like to save your life, so I shall sever your relationship with the other world." And he spread scented water for incantation all over Joryo's body; then he strictly forbade him to go out that night, telling him not to move when the warrior-messenger arrived.

Next morning, the chief priest and the priest-official hurried to Joryo's room to see how he had fared. To their surprise, they found him lying face down, in a faint, with his ears cut off. At once the chief priest realized that he had forgotten to spread the scented incantation water on the blind musician's ears. The priest felt deeply sorry for the deformed blind man who must now go earless through life. He invited him to stay on at the temple as long as he wished, and he took care of him with great kindness.

Thus several years passed. At last the poor blind biwa-player set out alone from the temple for his final trip to the other world. The people of the temple buried his body carefully at Sendatsuno, north of the temple, and set up there an earless Jizo in his honor.

And it is told that, since that faraway time, the worshipers at this shrine have always called the statue the Earless Jizo of Sendatsuno.

THE RED NOSE OF THE IMAGE

This legend has been studied by Kunio Yanagita in a translated article, "The Japanese Atlantis," Contemporary Japan, III (June, 1934), pp. 34-39- However, he associates it not with Uryu Island, as in the text below, but with the island of Korai west of the Goto Archipelago in northwestern Kyushu, and with one of the Koshiki islands off the coast of Satsuma. In both cases the face of the image was painted red by wiseacres and doom followed, fulfilling the prophecy. In literary form the tale appears in two masterpieces of the Heian period (794-1185), Konjaku Monogatari and Uji Shui Monogatari, which show influences from China or India.

Text from Bungo Densetsu Shu,p. 110; collected by Takako Tanabe in Hayami-gun.

HIGH PRIEST BEACH takes its name from High Priest Ippen, who lived there in olden days. One day he called the villagers together and said to them: "My last moment is drawing near. I am going to the now, but my spirit will remain in the image carved on that rock. If ever a calamity is destined to occur in this district, the nose of that image will become red."

At that time Uryu and Kuko islands were in Beppu Bay, and the scenery was as beautiful as a picture. Uryu Island possessed a fine harbor, and the islands flourished as pleasure resorts, attracting many visitors to their numerous hot springs and handsome buildings.

A day came in the second year of Keicho [1597] when the nose of the image on the rock suddenly turned red. The news spread rapidly from mouth to mouth throughout the village. When the people heard it they were filled with fear, and made ready to escape. Before they could do so, with a tremendous sound there occurred a great eruption, an opening up of the earth, a landslide of the mountains, and a tidal wave, all at the same time. Not only were all the houses with their inhabitants and animals destroyed, but the islands vanished into the sea.

Hundreds of years have passed since that cataclysm. Now the fishermen of this district say that when they row their boats into the open sea on quiet days, they can see a stone pavement at the bottom of the sea, and this they believe to be Uryu Island.

THE PRIEST WHO ATE THE CORPSE

A similar tradition from India is cited under Motif G36.2, "Human blood (flesh) accidentally tasted: brings desire for human flesh." Hearn's grisly story "Jikininki" in Kwaidan (XI, pp. 198-204) tells of a priest in a mountain district condemned for impiety to assume monstrous shape and feed on corpses of deceased villagers.

Text from Edo no Kohi to Densetsu, no. 58, pp. 125-26.

Notes: Ombo, a person whose trade is dealing with dead bodies; regarded as very mean and low. Kasha, a specter which bears away dead bodies, sometimes coming to a funeral and taking coffin and all.

FORMERLY there was a temple called Tokusu-in at the southern side of Anyo-in in Shiba Park. A man who lived in Hiroo asked the Tokusu-in to perform the necessary rituals for a certain dead man. The temple accepted the request and sent a hanger-on priest to the house of the dead. By mistake that priest cut off about one inch of the dead man's head when he shaved his hair. As he thought he could not make proper apologies for his error, he put the piece of flesh into his mouth. To his surprise it tasted very good. After that he could not forget that taste. He wished to eat such flesh once more. So one night he secretly dug up the corpse and cut it into pieces to eat. This time the flesh tasted more delicious than the flesh of the head. He wanted to try once more.

Soon after that a new corpse was buried in the grave. The priest thought it a good opportunity. He stole into the graveyard in the dead of night and dug up the corpse and ate it up. Thus again and again he dug up the grave whenever a new corpse was buried. At first the chief priest of the temple thought that some dogs or foxes had done these things. But as the matter became more and more horrible he grew suspicious. Other people, too, grew curious about the affair. One night when the priest was at last caught on the spot, he had to confess all about eating the corpses. He was exiled and driven away. After he had wandered through many places, he came back to Edo again and became an ombo. When he was about to eat, suddenly a kasha appeared on a dark cloud and took the priest up in the sky, tore his body into pieces, and disappeared.

It is not clear when this event happened but it is said that during the era of Kansei [1789-1800] there was in Edo a priest who ate men.

THE MONK AND THE MAID

Anesaki, in his chapter on "Local Legends and Communal Cults," relates this story of the "Hira hurricane" that occurs annually since the death of the hapless maiden (pp. 254-55). In his version the monk is replaced by a lighthouse keeper, and the girl deliberately jumps into the lake when the light fails to appear, praying that a storm destroy the lighthouse; her dying curse is fulfilled.

Text from Nihon Densetsu Shu, pp. 162-63, under "Legends of Ferries." Told by Hiroshi Morita.

IN AND AROUND Otsu in Omi Province, they are sure to have stormy weather at the end of March every year. They call that time Hira no hachiare. By that they seem to mean that Mt. Hira rages for eight days.

At a little distance to the west of Yoshinaka Temple, which stands at the east gate of Otsu, there is a ferry called Ishiba. There was an inn named Harimaya beside that ferry. It still exists today. In former days a young Buddhist monk spent a night there. A pretty maid of the inn fell in love with him at first sight. Unable to suppress the passion flaming in her heart, she stole into the monk's room late at night. Needless to say, she poured out all her longings for him and tried to win his affection. But the monk was a man of such strict morality that he would not be moved. However, he must have felt sympathy for the extent of the woman's love for him, for he told her that he was a hermit at the foot of Mt. Hira beyond the lake, that she should row in a big washtub from Ishiba to his place one hundred nights continuously if her longing for him were strong enough, and that he would fulfil her desire if she could accomplish the feat.

It was a very difficult task, and one by which he aimed to evade her once and forever. When the night came and the bells of Mii Temple rang out, however, she started from Ishiba in the tub and, passing the shore off Karasaki and Katada, reached a place from where she could see the light of the hermitage at the foot of Mt. Hira. After gazing at it for a while, she returned home. She continued this for ninety-nine nights. The hundredth night came. The maid was cheered by the thought of attaining her purpose at last. She rode over miles of waves and came to the place which commanded the view of the light. But what was the matter? There was no light, but only sheer darkness. She must have been cheated, she thought. At that moment, a storm came down from Mt. Hira and overturned the woman's tub in an instant. In great agony and chagrin, she was drawn to the bottom of deep water as if she had been a leaf of seaweed.

It was on March 20 that she was lost. Because of her passion, they say, the lake rages around that date, even now.

THE SHRINE OF THE VENGEFUL SPIRIT

This legend is a good example of the goryo, the spirit that harbors a curse at the time of its unnatural bodily death and hence must be enshrined. A comparable tradition in Yanagita, Mountain Village Life, pp. 390-94, tells of a refugee warrior in Kita-mura who hid himself in a hollow tree and was betrayed by a girl signaling with her eyes to the enemy; they pierced his chest with an arrow, but from his dying curse the girl's family suffered chest ailments. The refugee is now deified as a local god. Similarly in Yanagita, Fishing Village Life, pp. 110-11, an account is given of Engen-sama, a refugee betrayed in Okinoshima-mura by the Matsuuras, who now worship him to deflect his curse that their children would die young. The general motif is M460, "Curses on families."

Text from Bungo Densetsu Shu, pp. 58-59, from Kita Amabe-gun.

IN THE THICK WOODS at Yamada there is a small shrine by a little stream. A long time ago a young sister and brother fled to this village in order to hide from their pursuers. They found a cave called Komoridan and there they lived. One day a woodcutter who passed by the cave saw them and took pity on them. He decided to give them a cup of rice every day. The mother of the woodcutter became curious about her son's doings and asked him what he was up to. He told her about the sister and brother, begging her not to tell the other people about them. The old woman promised not to tell.

One day as the old woman was washing clothes in the river, the men who were chasing the brother and sister came to her and said: "If you tell us where the young people are, we will give you a reward." The greedy old woman was tempted to tell about them, but she remembered her promise to her son, so she did not tell them openly but turned her head in the direction of the mountain where the two young people were hiding. As soon as the pursuers saw that, they hastened to the mountain to search for the fugitives. Finally the pair was caught, and they were about to be killed under a big pine. Then the head man of the pursuing party took pity on the sister and brother and made a sign, shaking a baton in his hand. However, the men took it to be the sign to kill the two and they cut off their heads.

From that moment on, the old woman's head curved to one side and never regained its normal position. And her descendants all suffered from sore eyes. Moreover, an epidemic spread throughout this village. Therefore the villagers, fearing the curse of the two young people, enshrined the brother's spirit at Yamada and the sister's in the neighboring village of Kazamashi. This is said to be the origin of the Goryo Jinja [Shrine of the Vengeful Spirit].

THE SHRINE BUILT BY STRAW DOLLS

Hearn speaks of the belief in dolls coming alive and refers to a legend of a doll running out of a burning house (V, pp. 309-10). The present tale may belong to a cycle about the legendary carpenter Hida-no-takumi (the skilled worker of Hida). The pertinent motif is F675, "Ingenious carpenter."

Text from Katsuhiko Imamura, "Folktales from Bizen" (present Okayamaken), in Tabi to Densetsu, V (August, 1932), p. 579.

A LONG TIME AGO a feudal lord searched for a skillful carpenter in order to have a shrine built on the borders of Bizen and Bitchu provinces. But he could not find one. One day a carpenter came traveling from a distant province. The lord wondered why he came alone, because all the carpenters who had come before had had many apprentices. So he asked the carpenter: "Can you build a shrine all by yourself?" Then the carpenter answered: "Yes, I can. I will take it on my own responsibility if you give me the job." The lord granted his request, as he thought he was a rather unusual carpenter. All the people had a great interest in this carpenter. He told everybody not to come to the place where he was working until the building was completed.

The lord and all his servants were anxious to see the carpenter's work, but they let him work alone. The carpenter made rapid progress. In the daytime he worked alone, but by next morning he had done a great deal. The lord was curious about this and one night he secretly looked into the carpenter's working place. To his surprise he saw thirty or fifty carpenters identical with the original carpenter, all working busily. He tried to tell which was the true carpenter, but he couldn't. They were working hard in silence.

The days passed, and the shrine was about completed. The lord went there to give a reward to the carpenter, but he could not tell which one was the real carpenter. He asked the one beside him, who answered: "It is the one who has a mole near his eye." So the lord looked for the carpenter with a mole near his eye and gave him the reward. When the shrine was entirely constructed, that carpenter went away before anyone knew about it, and all the other carpenters fell down into the valley and died. People found many straw dolls down in the valley afterwards.

It is told that there was a small shrine where the straw dolls were found, and this shrine is the present Kibitsu Shrine.

VISIT TO ZENKO-JI DRIVEN BY A COW

This famous legend has become proverbial. Murai gives a Buddhist tradition on "The Origin of Zenko-ji Temple," pp. 57-61, and a variant of the present text on pp. 40-51, "An Old Woman at Nunobiki." His rendering of the verses traced from the cow's slobber is this:

Do not regard the fact,

As a mere ox's freak;

'Twas mercy of Buddha

To lead thee to righteousness!

The lines refer to a woman's cloth carried off on an ox's horn to a statue of Buddha. When in Nagano, I duly saw the grand Zenko-ji and was startled to come suddenly upon a frieze below a small altar showing the farmwife running frantically after the cow and her cloth, past astonished bystanders. The shrine on the mountainside at this old woman's village can be seen at the fourth station beyond the famed summer resort of Karuizawa. The story says that the old woman ran all the way from her village to Nagano, a distance ordinarily requiring ten hours to walk. A lovely illustrated four-page leaflet carrying a version of the legend has been issued by Zenkoji Temple, written by Priest Junsho Hayashi, and captioned "Pilgrimage to Zenko-ji Temple led by an Ox." Priest Hayashi interprets this title, which is used proverbially, in the sense of "entering the religious life led by grief," because ox is "ushi" in Japanese and "ushi" literally means grief.

Text from Masao Koyama, Chiisagata-gun Mintan Shu (Tokyo, 1933), p. 76.

Note: A temple often has two names, the first referring to the mountain on which it is built. Thus, for example, we have rendered Nunobiki-yama Shason-ji as "Shason-ji on Nunobiki-yama."

LONG AGO there was an old couple in Chiisagata-gun. They were badhearted and did not believe in any god or in Buddha. One day the old woman was bleaching cloth under the eaves. Suddenly a cow came there and, catching the cloth on its horn, ran away. The old woman became very angry and ran after it to get back the cloth, but the cow ran away somewhere and the day grew dark. The old woman looked around and found herself in front of the temple of Zenko-ji in Nagano. She could see the slobber of the cow by the light of the Buddha's statue. She read it as follows: "Don't complain about the god. It is from yourself that you find the way to a religious haven."

At these words the old woman immediately recovered a good heart and worshiped the Buddha. She went home with a clean, pious heart.

One day when she was going to pay homage to the Kannon of her village, the wind blew in and carried the cloth away to the mountainside. This remains now as the Cloth Rock of Saku. When the old woman arrived at the Kannon shrine, she found the cloth was hanging on the head of the Kannon's statue. So she came to believe in Buddha still more sincerely and she lived there as a nun.

This story may mean that Kannon, disguised as a cow. guided the old woman's fate. The Kannon is said to be the Kannon of Shason-ji on Nunobiki-yama [Mt. Pulling-the-Cloth].

THE TEMPLE OF RAIKYU GONGEN

Hito-dama, literally "human spirit" but more commonly rendered as "death fire," is described in the Minzokugaku Jiten as a yellowish flame with a long tail which comes out of the body just before death. In some places people say that a death fire has a face and speaks. This belief appears in the following legend, along with the idea of goryo.

Text from Densetsu no Echigo to Sado, I, pp. 88-go. Collected in Hojo-mura, Karina-gun, Niigata-ken.

IN ANCIENT TIMES castles stood on Mt. Hachikoku and in Hojo-mura. Mori Tamanosuke was the lord of the castle on Mt. Hachikoku and Hojo Tango was the lord of the castle in Hojo-mura. Being at odds with each other, they often had quarrels and sometimes fought battles. But Mori excelled his enemy in wisdom and valor. Moreover, he was a young and handsome warrior.

Lord Hojo had a daughter whose beauty surpassed that of the prettiest flower. The father married his daughter to Mori, and by so doing he outwardly pretended to become friendly with Mori, while secretly planning his destruction. Friendship now took the place of hostility between the two lords. The young couple lived happily for half a year.

It was one summer day that Hojo determined to carry out his plan to ruin Mori. He sent a messenger for Mori. Unsuspecting, Mori readily accepted his father-in-law's invitation and immediately made ready to go. But his wife, feeling uneasy about her husband for some reason, advised him not to go that day. The husband departed nevertheless, saying with a smile that there was nothing to be afraid of.

When he arrived at Hojo's castle, he was at once guided to the bath to wash off his sweat. But the bathroom turned out to be a hell for him. When he was about to be steamed to death in the locked bath room, he realized for the first time his father-in-law's cowardly trick. He was furious but helpless. He regretted that he had not followed his wife's advice.

After her husband's death, the wife killed herself by thrusting a knife into her throat. Mori's castle on Mt. Hachikoku was soon reduced by Hojo. After that, a strange fire often appeared on Mt. Hachikoku. It always floated to Hojo-mura. When people saw it, they shivered with fear and prayed for the disappearance of the fire, but it grew brighter.

The fire was seen especially on summer evenings and it continued to burn all night long. It was said that the fire was the spirit of Mori's wife.

The priest of Fuko-ji Temple tried to subdue the fire. He built a temple called Gongen-do for the souls of Mori and his wife, and recited sutras for twenty-one days. Thereafter the fire never appeared again on Mt. Hachikoku.

THE ORIGIN OF ENOO-JI

In Hearn's similar legend of "Oshidori" in Kwaidan (XI, 176-78), the mate of the mandarin duck killed by a hunter upbraids him in a dream, and next day kills herself before his eyes. Anesaki, pp. 320-22, has, however, a happy ending to a tale of mandarin-duck lovers; the one freed by a servant rejoins its mate and assists both mate and servant.

Text from Aichi Densetsu Shu, p. 318.

A PATHETIC STORY is told concerning the bridge called Shiraki-bashi [White Wood Bridge] in Haruki-mura, Nishi Kasugai-gun. Once when Lord Todo of Tsu Castle crossed this bridge, he saw a pair of mandarin ducks swimming congenially on the water. For mere pleasure the lord shot one of them with a bow and arrow of white wood. One night soon after that he had a dream in which a pretty woman appeared and expressed her lamentation over the death of her husband, who had been shot to death by the lord.

The next year the lord passed across the same bridge again and this time also shot several mandarin ducks. When he picked up one of them casually, he saw that the bird had the head of the mandarin duck which he had killed there the year before.

"Then is this the female mandarin duck that lamented over the death of her mate in my dream last year?" thought Lord Todo. He felt pity for the birds and established a temple for the repose of the souls of the two mandarin ducks and called it Hakkyu-zan [Mt. White Bow] Enoo-ji [Mandarin Duck Temple]. The white-wood bow was kept in that temp'e.

The temple fell into decay afterwards and there are no traces of it now, but Shiraki Bridge still remains.

THE ORIGIN OF KAZO-JI ON MT. WOODEN PILLOW

This kind of religious legend explaining the origin of a temple or shrine is called an engi. Hearn relates temple legends in the chapter "A Pilgrimage to Enoshima" in Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan (V, ch. 4), saying: In nearly every celebrated temple little Japanese prints are sold, containing the history of the shrine, and its miraculous legends" (p. 78).

Text from Shimane-ken Kohi Densetsu Shu, Yatsuka-gun, pp. 18-21.

THE PRIEST WHO FOUNDED the temple of Kazo-ji on Makuragi-yama [Mt. Wooden Pillow] was High Priest Chigen. His former name was Mita Genta. He belonged to a family branch of Emperor Kammu but he was exiled to Oki Island. Then he wandered around many places and also went across to China. On the return voyage from China, his boat was attacked by a sudden storm. Then a dark cloud covered all the sea and nothing was visible except an object like a mountain at the edge of the cloud. Genta prayed to the god: "If there is a god in the mountain, may he guide this boat to the foot of the mountain. If this transpires, I will be converted and become a bonze."

Very strangely, a faint light began to glimmer in the direction of Kasaura. Genta thought this must be the sign of the god's mercy and he encouraged the boatmen to row as hard as possible to the light. So the boat arrived at Kasaura.

That night Genta climbed up the mountain, treading on the rocks and making his way through thorns. When he got to the top of the mountain, day began to dawn. He saw a pond on the mountain. As he was standing by the pond, a young woman appeared. Genta asked her: "Is there any god or man living on this mountain?" The girl answered: "Since ancient times no one has ever climbed this mountain. You are such a pious person that I have come here to ask you something."

Just then a young man suddenly appeared. This man and woman were the god and goddess of the mountain. The god lived in this pond and the goddess lived in another pond. But in the valley of this mountain lived the Buddha Yakushi, who should rightfully hold a higher place than these gods. So the gods said to Genta: "Please take Yakushi to the top of the mountain." And they took Genta to Yakushi and explained to him that Yakushi was formerly on the rock in the valley with the bodhisattva Miroku, but that Miroku was gone up to heaven. Genta asked them: "Where shall I install Yakushi?" "On the pond," said the gods. "But one cannot build a temple on a pond." "It does not matter, for we can make flat ground," answered the gods.

Just then a white bird flew away. They followed the bird down the valley. There stood a big rock on which was the statue of Yakushi. After Genta worshiped it, he went up the mountain again, carrying the statue. When he came to the pond, suddenly a thunderstorm broke out and the mountain peak collapsed and filled up the pond. Then the mountain gods appeared again and said: "This pond is called Daio-ike [Great King Pond] and the pond at the back of this mountain is Ryuoike [Dragon King Pond]. Now Daio-ike has been made into a flat ground, but Ryuo-ike will remain forever. If you suffer from the drought, pray for rain to this stone."

As soon as they finished these words, the two mountain gods disappeared.

Struck by a strange feeling, Genta was going to set the statue of Yakushi on the ground. The left knee of the statue was broken. Genta could not find anything to support the statue. He remembered the wooden pillow he always carried with him. He took it out and put it under the statue. Strange to say, it turned into a leg of the statue. As he was planting a sacred tree, the same white bird came flying there with ropes in its mouth, holding grasses in its claws. The bird placed these things before Genta. He made a hut with them.

Soon afterwards Genta went to Kyoto and visited St. Dengyo on Mt. Hiei to tell the whole story. Dengyo was moved by it; he gave him the name of High Priest Chigen and made him the founder of the temple.