Books: Japanese Fairy Tales
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Yei Theodora Ozaki >> Japanese Fairy Tales
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JAPANESE FAIRY TALES
COMPILED BY
YEI THEODORA OZAKI
Profusely Illustrated by Japanese Artists
TO
ELEANOR MARION-CRAWFORD.
I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO YOU AND TO THE SWEET CHILD-FRIENDSHIP THAT
YOU GAVE ME IN THE DAYS SPENT WITH YOU BY THE SOUTHERN SEA, WHEN YOU
USED TO LISTEN WITH UNFEIGNED PLEASURE TO THESE FAIRY STORIES FROM
FAR JAPAN. MAY THEY NOW REMIND YOU OF MY CHANGELESS LOVE AND
REMEMBRANCE.
Y. T. O.
Tokio, 1908.
PREFACE.
This collection of Japanese fairy tales is the outcome of a
suggestion made to me indirectly through a friend by Mr. Andrew
Lang. They have been translated from the modern version written by
Sadanami Sanjin. These stories are not literal translations, and
though the Japanese story and all quaint Japanese expressions have
been faithfully preserved, they have been told more with the view to
interest young readers of the West than the technical student of
folk-lore.
Grateful acknowledgment is due to Mr. Y. Yasuoka, Miss Fusa Okamoto,
my brother Nobumori Ozaki, Dr. Yoshihiro Takaki, and Miss Kameko
Yamao, who have helped me with translations.
The story which I have named "The Story of the Man who did not Wish
to Die" is taken from a little book written a hundred years ago by
one Shinsui Tamenaga. It is named Chosei Furo, or "Longevity." "The
Bamboo-cutter and the Moon-child" is taken from the classic
"Taketari Monogatari," and is NOT classed by the Japanese among
their fairy tales, though it really belongs to this class of
literature.
The pictures were drawn by Mr. Kakuzo Fujiyama, a Tokio artist.
In telling these stories in English I have followed my fancy in
adding such touches of local color or description as they seemed to
need or as pleased me, and in one or two instances I have gathered
in an incident from another version. At all times, among my friends,
both young and old, English or American, I have always found eager
listeners to the beautiful legends and fairy tales of Japan, and in
telling them I have also found that they were still unknown to the
vast majority, and this has encouraged me to write them for the
children of the West.
Y. T. O.
Tokio, 1908.
CONTENTS.
MY LORD BAG OF RICE
THE TONGUE-CUT SPARROW
THE STORY OF URASHIMA TARO, THE FISHER LAD
THE FARMER AND THE BADGER
THE "shinansha," OR THE SOUTH POINTING CARRIAGE
THE ADVENTURES OF KINTARO, THE GOLDEN BOY
THE STORY OF PRINCESS HASE
THE STORY OF THE MAN WHO DID NOT WISH TO DIE
THE BAMBOO-CUTTER AND THE MOON-CHILD
THE MIRROR OF MATSUYAMA
THE GOBLIN OF ADACHIGAHARA
THE SAGACIOUS MONKEY AND THE BOAR
THE HAPPY HUNTER AND THE SKILLFUL FISHER
THE STORY OF THE OLD MAN WHO MADE WITHERED TREES TO FLOWER
THE JELLY FISH AND THE MONKEY
THE QUARREL OF THE MONKEY AND THE CRAB
THE WHITE HARE AND THE CROCODILES
THE STORY OF PRINCE YAMATO TAKE
MOMOTARO, OR THE STORY OF THE SON OF A PEACH
THE OGRE OF RASHOMON
HOW AN OLD MAN LOST HIS WEN
THE STONES OF FIVE COLORS AND THE EMPRESS JOKWA
JAPANESE FAIRY TALES.
MY LORD BAG OF RICE.
Long, long ago there lived, in Japan a brave warrior known to all as
Tawara Toda, or "My Lord Bag of Rice." His true name was Fujiwara
Hidesato, and there is a very interesting story of how he came to
change his name.
One day he sallied forth in search of adventures, for he had the
nature of a warrior and could not bear to be idle. So he buckled on
his two swords, took his huge bow, much taller than himself, in his
hand, and slinging his quiver on his back started out. He had not
gone far when he came to the bridge of Seta-no-Karashi spanning one
end of the beautiful Lake Biwa. No sooner had he set foot on the
bridge than he saw lying right across his path a huge serpent-
dragon. Its body was so big that it looked like the trunk of a large
pine tree and it took up the whole width of the bridge. One of its
huge claws rested on the parapet of one side of the bridge, while
its tail lay right against the other. The monster seemed to be
asleep, and as it breathed, fire and smoke came out of its nostrils.
At first Hidesato could not help feeling alarmed at the sight of
this horrible reptile lying in his path, for he must either turn
back or walk right over its body. He was a brave man, however, and
putting aside all fear went forward dauntlessly. Crunch, crunch! he
stepped now on the dragon's body, now between its coils, and without
even one glance backward he went on his way.
He had only gone a few steps when he heard some one calling him from
behind. On turning back he was much surprised to see that the
monster dragon had entirely disappeared and in its place was a
strange-looking man, who was bowing most ceremoniously to the
ground. His red hair streamed over his shoulders and was surmounted
by a crown in the shape of a dragon's head, and his sea-green dress
was patterned with shells. Hidesato knew at once that this was no
ordinary mortal and he wondered much at the strange occurrence.
Where had the dragon gone in such a short space of time? Or had it
transformed itself into this man, and what did the whole thing mean?
While these thoughts passed through his mind he had come up to the
man on the bridge and now addressed him:
"Was it you that called me just now?"
"Yes, it was I," answered the man: "I have an earnest request to
make to you. Do you think you can grant it to me?"
"If it is in my power to do so I will," answered Hidesato, "but
first tell me who you are?"
"I am the Dragon King of the Lake, and my home is in these waters
just under this bridge."
"And what is it you have to ask of me!" said Hidesato.
"I want you to kill my mortal enemy the centipede, who lives on the
mountain beyond," and the Dragon King pointed to a high peak on the
opposite shore of the lake.
"I have lived now for many years in this lake and I have a large
family of children and grand-children. For some time past we have
lived in terror, for a monster centipede has discovered our home,
and night after night it comes and carries off one of my family. I
am powerless to save them. If it goes on much longer like this, not
only shall I lose all my children, but I myself must fall a victim
to the monster. I am, therefore, very unhappy, and in my extremity I
determined to ask the help of a human being. For many days with this
intention I have waited on the bridge in the shape of the horrible
serpent-dragon that you saw, in the hope that some strong brave man
would come along. But all who came this way, as soon as they saw me
were terrified and ran away as fast as they could. You are the first
man I have found able to look at me without fear, so I knew at once
that you were a man of great courage. I beg you to have pity upon
me. Will you not help me and kill my enemy the centipede?"
Hidesato felt very sorry for the Dragon King on hearing his story,
and readily promised to do what he could to help him. The warrior
asked where the centipede lived, so that he might attack the
creature at once. The Dragon King replied that its home was on the
mountain Mikami, but that as it came every night at a certain hour
to the palace of the lake, it would be better to wait till then. So
Hidesato was conducted to the palace of the Dragon King, under the
bridge. Strange to say, as he followed his host downwards the waters
parted to let them pass, and his clothes did not even feel damp as
he passed through the flood. Never had Hidesato seen anything so
beautiful as this palace built of white marble beneath the lake. He
had often heard of the Sea King's palace at the bottom of the sea,
where all the servants and retainers were salt-water fishes, but
here was a magnificent building in the heart of Lake Biwa. The
dainty goldfishes, red carp, and silvery trout, waited upon the
Dragon King and his guest.
Hidesato was astonished at the feast that was spread for him. The
dishes were crystallized lotus leaves and flowers, and the
chopsticks were of the rarest ebony. As soon as they sat down, the
sliding doors opened and ten lovely goldfish dancers came out, and
behind them followed ten red-carp musicians with the koto and the
samisen. Thus the hours flew by till midnight, and the beautiful
music and dancing had banished all thoughts of the centipede. The
Dragon King was about to pledge the warrior in a fresh cup of wine
when the palace was suddenly shaken by a tramp, tramp! as if a
mighty army had begun to march not far away.
Hidesato and his host both rose to their feet and rushed to the
balcony, and the warrior saw on the opposite mountain two great
balls of glowing fire coming nearer and nearer. The Dragon King
stood by the warrior's side trembling with fear.
"The centipede! The centipede! Those two balls of fire are its eyes.
It is coming for its prey! Now is the time to kill it."
Hidesato looked where his host pointed, and, in the dim light of the
starlit evening, behind the two balls of fire he saw the long body
of an enormous centipede winding round the mountains, and the light
in its hundred feet glowed like so many distant lanterns moving
slowly towards the shore.
Hidesato showed not the least sign of fear. He tried to calm the
Dragon King.
"Don't be afraid. I shall surely kill the centipede. Just bring me
my bow and arrows."
The Dragon King did as he was bid, and the warrior noticed that he
had only three arrows left in his quiver. He took the bow, and
fitting an arrow to the notch, took careful aim and let fly.
The arrow hit the centipede right in the middle of its head, but
instead of penetrating, it glanced off harmless and fell to the
ground.
Nothing daunted, Hidesato took another arrow, fitted it to the notch
of the bow and let fly. Again the arrow hit the mark, it struck the
centipede right in the middle of its head, only to glance off and
fall to the ground. The centipede was invulnerable to weapons! When
the Dragon King saw that even this brave warrior's arrows were
powerless to kill the centipede, he lost heart and began to tremble
with fear.
The warrior saw that he had now only one arrow left in his quiver,
and if this one failed he could not kill the centipede. He looked
across the waters. The huge reptile had wound its horrid body seven
times round the mountain and would soon come down to the lake.
Nearer and nearer gleamed fireballs of eyes, and the light of its
hundred feet began to throw reflections in the still waters of the
lake.
Then suddenly the warrior remembered that he had heard that human
saliva was deadly to centipedes. But this was no ordinary centipede.
This was so monstrous that even to think of such a creature made one
creep with horror. Hidesato determined to try his last chance. So
taking his last arrow and first putting the end of it in his mouth,
he fitted the notch to his bow, took careful aim once more and let
fly.
This time the arrow again hit the centipede right in the middle of
its head, but instead of glancing off harmlessly as before, it
struck home to the creature's brain. Then with a convulsive shudder
the serpentine body stopped moving, and the fiery light of its great
eyes and hundred feet darkened to a dull glare like the sunset of a
stormy day, and then went out in blackness. A great darkness now
overspread the heavens, the thunder rolled and the lightning
flashed, and the wind roared in fury, and it seemed as if the world
were coming to an end. The Dragon King and his children and
retainers all crouched in different parts of the palace, frightened
to death, for the building was shaken to its foundation. At last the
dreadful night was over. Day dawned beautiful and clear. The
centipede was gone from the mountain.
Then Hidesato called to the Dragon King to come out with him on the
balcony, for the centipede was dead and he had nothing more to fear.
Then all the inhabitants of the palace came out with joy, and
Hidesato pointed to the lake. There lay the body of the dead
centipede floating on the water, which was dyed red with its blood.
The gratitude of the Dragon King knew no bounds. The whole family
came and bowed down before the warrior, calling him their preserver
and the bravest warrior in all Japan.
Another feast was prepared, more sumptuous than the first. All kinds
of fish, prepared in every imaginable way, raw, stewed, boiled and
roasted, served on coral trays and crystal dishes, were put before
him, and the wine was the best that Hidesato had ever tasted in his
life. To add to the beauty of everything the sun shone brightly, the
lake glittered like a liquid diamond, and the palace was a thousand
times more beautiful by day than by night.
His host tried to persuade the warrior to stay a few days, but
Hidesato insisted on going home, saying that he had now finished
what he had come to do, and must return. The Dragon King and his
family were all very sorry to have him leave so soon, but since he
would go they begged him to accept a few small presents (so they
said) in token of their gratitude to him for delivering them forever
from their horrible enemy the centipede.
As the warrior stood in the porch taking leave, a train of fish was
suddenly transformed into a retinue of men, all wearing ceremonial
robes and dragon's crowns on their heads to show that they were
servants of the great Dragon King. The presents that they carried
were as follows:
First, a large bronze bell.
Second, a bag of rice.
Third, a roll of silk.
Fourth, a cooking pot.
Fifth, a bell.
Hidesato did not want to accept all these presents, but as the
Dragon King insisted, he could not well refuse.
The Dragon King himself accompanied the warrior as far as the
bridge, and then took leave of him with many bows and good wishes,
leaving the procession of servants to accompany Hidesato to his
house with the presents.
The warrior's household and servants had been very much concerned
when they found that he did not return the night before, but they
finally concluded that he had been kept by the violent storm and had
taken shelter somewhere. When the servants on the watch for his
return caught sight of him they called to every one that he was
approaching, and the whole household turned out to meet him,
wondering much what the retinue of men, bearing presents and
banners, that followed him, could mean.
As soon as the Dragon King's retainers had put down the presents
they vanished, and Hidesato told all that had happened to him.
The presents which he had received from the grateful Dragon King
were found to be of magic power. The bell only was ordinary, and as
Hidesato had no use for it he presented it to the temple near by,
where it was hung up, to boom out the hour of day over the
surrounding neighborhood.
The single bag of rice, however much was taken from it day after day
for the meals of the knight and his whole family, never grew less--
the supply in the bag was inexhaustible.
The roll of silk, too, never grew shorter, though time after time
long pieces were cut off to make the warrior a new suit of clothes
to go to Court in at the New Year.
The cooking pot was wonderful, too. No matter what was put into it,
it cooked deliciously whatever was wanted without any firing--truly
a very economical saucepan.
The fame of Hidesato's fortune spread far and wide, and as there was
no need for him to spend money on rice or silk or firing, he became
very rich and prosperous, and was henceforth known as My Lord Bag of
Rice.
THE TONGUE-CUT SPARROW.
Long, long ago in Japan there lived an old man and his wife. The old
man was a good, kind-hearted, hard-working old fellow, but his wife
was a regular cross-patch, who spoiled the happiness of her home by
her scolding tongue. She was always grumbling about something from
morning to night. The old man had for a long time ceased to take any
notice of her crossness. He was out most of the day at work in the
fields, and as he had no child, for his amusement when he came home,
he kept a tame sparrow. He loved the little bird just as much as if
she had been his child.
When he came back at night after his hard day's work in the open air
it was his only pleasure to pet the sparrow, to talk to her and to
teach her little tricks, which she learned very quickly. The old man
would open her cage and let her fly about the room, and they would
play together. Then when supper-time came, he always saved some tit-
bits from his meal with which to feed his little bird.
Now one day the old man went out to chop wood in the forest, and the
old woman stopped at home to wash clothes. The day before, she had
made some starch, and now when she came to look for it, it was all
gone; the bowl which she had filled full yesterday was quite empty.
While she was wondering who could have used or stolen the starch,
down flew the pet sparrow, and bowing her little feathered head--a
trick which she had been taught by her master--the pretty bird
chirped and said:
"It is I who have taken the starch. I thought it was some food put
out for me in that basin, and I ate it all. If I have made a mistake
I beg you to forgive me! tweet, tweet, tweet!"
You see from this that the sparrow was a truthful bird, and the old
woman ought to have been willing to forgive her at once when she
asked her pardon so nicely. But not so.
The old woman had never loved the sparrow, and had often quarreled
with her husband for keeping what she called a dirty bird about the
house, saying that it only made extra work for her. Now she was only
too delighted to have some cause of complaint against the pet. She
scolded and even cursed the poor little bird for her bad behavior,
and not content with using these harsh, unfeeling words, in a fit of
rage she seized the sparrow--who all this time had spread out her
wings and bowed her head before the old woman, to show how sorry she
was--and fetched the scissors and cut off the poor little bird's
tongue.
"I suppose you took my starch with that tongue! Now you may see what
it is like to go without it! "And with these dreadful words she
drove the bird away, not caring in the least what might happen to it
and without the smallest pity for its suffering, so unkind was she!
The old woman, after she had driven the sparrow away, made some more
rice-paste, grumbling all the time at the trouble, and after
starching all her clothes, spread the things on boards to dry in the
sun, instead of ironing them as they do in England.
In the evening the old man came home. As usual, on the way back he
looked forward to the time when he should reach his gate and see his
pet come flying and chirping to meet him, ruffling out her feathers
to show her joy, and at last coming to rest on his shoulder. But to-
night the old man was very disappointed, for not even the shadow of
his dear sparrow was to be seen.
He quickened his steps, hastily drew off his straw sandals, and
stepped on to the veranda. Still no sparrow was to be seen. He now
felt sure that his wife, in one of her cross tempers, had shut the
sparrow up in its cage. So he called her and said anxiously:
"Where is Suzume San (Miss Sparrow) today?"
The old woman pretended not to know at first, and answered:
"Your sparrow? I am sure I don't know. Now I come to think of it, I
haven't seen her all the afternoon. I shouldn't wonder if the un-
grateful bird had flown away and left you after all your petting!"
But at last, when the old man gave her no peace, but asked her again
and again, insisting that she must know what had happened to his
pet, she confessed all. She told him crossly how the sparrow had
eaten the rice-paste she had specially made for starching her
clothes, and how when the sparrow had confessed to what she had
done, in great anger she had taken her scissors and cut out her
tongue, and how finally she had driven the bird away and forbidden
her to return to the house again.
Then the old woman showed her husband the sparrow's tongue, saying:
"Here is the tongue I cut off! Horrid little bird, why did it eat
all my starch?"
"How could you be so cruel? Oh! how could you so cruel?" was all
that the old man could answer. He was too kind-hearted to punish his
be shrew of a wife, but he was terribly distressed at what had
happened to his poor little sparrow.
"What a dreadful misfortune for my poor Suzume San to lose her
tongue!" he said to himself. "She won't be able to chirp any more,
and surely the pain of the cutting of it out in that rough way must
have made her ill! Is there nothing to be done?"
The old man shed many tears after his cross wife had gone to sleep.
While he wiped away the tears with the sleeve of his cotton robe, a
bright thought comforted him: he would go and look for the sparrow
on the morrow. Having decided this he was able to go to sleep at
last.
The next morning he rose early, as soon as ever the day broke, and
snatching a hasty breakfast, started out over the hills and through
the woods, stopping at every clump of bamboos to cry:
"Where, oh where does my tongue-cut sparrow stay? Where, oh where,
does my tongue-cut sparrow stay!"
He never stopped to rest for his noonday meal, and it was far on in
the afternoon when he found himself near a large bamboo wood. Bamboo
groves are the favorite haunts of sparrows, and there sure enough at
the edge of the wood he saw his own dear sparrow waiting to welcome
him. He could hardly believe his eyes for joy, and ran forward
quickly to greet her. She bowed her little head and went through a
number of the tricks her master had taught her, to show her pleasure
at seeing her old friend again, and, wonderful to relate, she could
talk as of old. The old man told her how sorry he was for all that
had happened, and inquired after her tongue, wondering how she could
speak so well without it. Then the sparrow opened her beak and
showed him that a new tongue had grown in place of the old one, and
begged him not to think any more about the past, for she was quite
well now. Then the old man knew that his sparrow was a fairy, and no
common bird. It would be difficult to exaggerate the old man's
rejoicing now. He forgot all his troubles, he forgot even how tired
he was, for he had found his lost sparrow, and instead of being ill
and without a tongue as he had feared and expected to find her, she
was well and happy and with a new tongue, and without a sign of the
ill-treatment she had received from his wife. And above all she was
a fairy.
The sparrow asked him to follow her, and flying before him she led
him to a beautiful house in the heart of the bamboo grove. The old
man was utterly astonished when he entered the house to find what a
beautiful place it was. It was built of the whitest wood, the soft
cream-colored mats which took the place of carpets were the finest
he had ever seen, and the cushions that the sparrow brought out for
him to sit on were made of the finest silk and crape. Beautiful
vases and lacquer boxes adorned the tokonoma [Footnote: An alcove
where precious objects are displayed.] of every room.
The sparrow led the old man to the place of honor, and then, taking
her place at a humble distance, she thanked him with many polite
bows for all the kindness he had shown her for many long years.
Then the Lady Sparrow, as we will now call her, introduced all her
family to the old man. This done, her daughters, robed in dainty
crape gowns, brought in on beautiful old-fashioned trays a feast of
all kinds of delicious foods, till the old man began to think he
must be dreaming. In the middle of the dinner some of the sparrow's
daughters performed a wonderful dance, called the "suzume-odori" or
the "Sparrow's dance," to amuse the guest.
Never had the old man enjoyed himself so much. The hours flew by too
quickly in this lovely spot, with all these fairy sparrows to wait
upon him and to feast him and to dance before him.
But the night came on and the darkness reminded him that he had a
long way to go and must think about taking his leave and return
home. He thanked his kind hostess for her splendid entertainment,
and begged her for his sake to forget all she had suffered at the
hands of his cross old wife. He told the Lady Sparrow that it was a
great comfort and happiness to him to find her in such a beautiful
home and to know that she wanted for nothing. It was his anxiety to
know how she fared and what had really happened to her that had led
him to seek her. Now he knew that all was well he could return home
with a light heart. If ever she wanted him for anything she had only
to send for him and he would come at once.
The Lady Sparrow begged him to stay and rest several days and enjoy
the change, but the old man said he must return to his old wife--who
would probably be cross at his not coming home at the usual time--
and to his work, and there-fore, much as he wished to do so, he
could not accept her kind invitation. But now that he knew where the
Lady Sparrow lived he would come to see her whenever he had the
time.
When the Lady Sparrow saw that she could not persuade the old man to
stay longer, she gave an order to some of her servants, and they at
once brought in two boxes, one large and the other small. These were
placed before the old man, and the Lady Sparrow asked him to choose
whichever he liked for a present, which she wished to give him.
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