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.
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