rigorous refinement of body and mind into a supernatural state. As Zen Buddhist thought developed in Japan, these immortals came to symbolize intellectual and spiritual freedom.
Then there are the goblins. Japanese mountain temples often display the mask of the long-nosed goblin known as the tengu. The tengu, which looks like a ferocious Pinocchio, may have been introduced into Japan from India by way of China, and may derive from the Hindu Buddhist guardian Garuda, the mythical bird deity able to transform its shape. A messenger and helper to the gods, Garuda is also an enemy of serpents and demons. At the Todaiji temple in Nara, there are wooden masks of scowling bird heads and long-nosed men that are thought to have been carved in the seventh and eighth centuries. Now protected as “National Treasures,” such masks were once used in gigaku performances, religious dances which originated in Tibet and India and arrived in Japan by way of Korea in 612. Although no longer danced today, gigaku were once considered the proper musical accompaniment to prayer in Japan’s Buddhist temples.
This mask depicts a long-nosed tengu, or mountain goblin.
With its magical powers, the tengu figures prominently in earlier Japanese folk tales and legends, and there are also close ties to Buddhist lore. In Japan, the tengu lost some of its fearsome and revered nature, becoming an impish goblin among whose favorite tricks was changing into the form of a Buddhist priest or nun, or even Buddha. In such guises, it would waylay unsuspecting monks, or lead them down the wrong path. Japanese tengu also evolved into two distinct types: karasu tengu, a crow-headed figure which has a body covered by feathers and long claws in the place of fingers and toes; and konoha tengu, the long-nosed kind. During the twelfth century, the concept of “tengu road” came to mean punishment in the form of exile for hypocritical or vainglorious Buddhist priests. Some say tengu are actually reincarnations of wicked priests who are being punished for being too proud or greedy.
Tengu are also associated with Japan’s mountain priests or yamabushi, known even now for their magical, ascetic practices on holy mountains. In fact, tengu often wear the hexagonal hats of yamabushi and carry feather fans which they use for making themselves invisible or working other magic. Because these goblins dwell in mountains or high forests, rural villagers still make offerings to them before cutting down trees, or hold festivals in their honor. Trees themselves are thought to contain spirits that are usually benevolent, but sometimes inimical to human beings, so it is well to appease them, too, just in case.
Sometimes tengu are thought to cause illness, and they are said to have haunted Hojo Takatoki (1303–33), who committed suicide as the last Hojo regent of the Kamakura bakufu, or military government. Strongly criticized for preferring drinking to politics, in his later years he was constantly plagued by nightmares of aggressive tengu. Minamoto no Yoshitsune (1159–89), on the other hand, is said to have found tengu to be extremely helpful; legend has it that they taught him the secrets of martial arts and military strategy. Perhaps the greatest of all Japan’s popular heroes, Yoshitsune is celebrated in the Heike Monogatari (Tale of the Heike), created in the early thirteenth century. This epic war tale, which has much in common with the European Song of Roland, recounts the battle between the Heike and Minamoto clans, with Yoshitsune fighting for the victory of the Genji over the Taira. Recited to successive generations of listeners, the Heike Monogaiari illustrates idealized warrior-class behavior against a backdrop of Buddhist attitudes and ethics.
At the age of seven, Minamoto no Yoshitsune was sent to study at the temple founded in 770 on Kyoto’s Mount Kurama. There, in the Valley of Sojo, were said to have lived tengu, ruled over by an old king with white hair and a long, flowing beard. Yoshitsune’s early lessons from tengu teachers are supposed to have resulted in an illustrious military career that continued until his thirty-second year, when, rather than face defeat at Takadachi, in modern-day Iwate Prefecture, he killed his wife and children, set his castle on fire, and committed suicide.
While tengu and demon quellers were imported, an entity uniquely native to Japan is the kappa. This curious creature has a beaked mouth, a scaly body covered by a tortoise shell, and a hollow on the crown of its head filled with a magical liquid from which it derives its strength and supernatural powers. Kappa can have quite evil intentions, luring children and washerwomen into the water and drowning them. To forestall kappa malevolence, however, one need only bow upon greeting it. Being Japanese, the kappa will immediately bow in return, thereby tipping out the magical fluid and rendering itself helpless. Or, one can try to tame a kappa by offering its favorite food, cucumber.
This unpredictable Japanese water spirit somewhat resembles one of the best-known ghostly beings of Scotland, the kelpie. Mostly haunting rivers, the kelpie lures the unwary to their death by drowning, usually by assuming the shape of a horse which invites its quarry to mount it, then plunges with its rider into the nearest stretch of water.
Animals, too, both real and mythical, play a vital role in the world of the Japanese super natural. Creatures most likely to possess magical talents are foxes, badger-like animals called tanuki, and snakes. But the magician’s parade also includes frogs, turtles, cats, dogs, monkeys, birds, mice, wolves, wild pigs, deer, horses, otters, weasels, spiders, butterflies, fireflies, and even lowly earthworms. Earthquakes in Japan, for instance, are believed to be caused when a gargantuan, subterranean catfish stirs in its sleep and sets the entire earth trembling. In tale and metaphor, animals are endowed with human characteristics, or vice versa. They frequently interact with human beings in mysterious ways, creating supernatural frameworks within which to tell stories, teach morals, or point out paths.
Foxes are preeminent tricksters, typically deploying their wiles to frighten, poke fun at, or sometimes seduce human beings. A fox can appear as a beautiful woman who bewitches a man into madness and death, or, more rarely, shows him gratitude for a kind deed he has done for her. The Japanese word for “fox,” or kitsune, can even be used as an adjective for a particularly enchanting, attractive woman. At the same time, foxes have a charitable aspect: a fox is considered the messenger for the deity of abundant rice harvests, and pairs of foxes are evident throughout Japan as guardians at shrines to the god. Crafted of pottery, stone, or bronze, one of the pair carries in its mouth a jewel or power-granting scroll, while the other holds the key to a storehouse of wealth. A well-known fox tale dating back more than one thousand years tells of the “Golden Nine-tailed Fox,” the female leader of a fox tribe who had caused considerable trouble in India and China. She escaped to Japan, and in a twelfth-century version assumes the guise of lady Tamamo no Mae. Loved by Emperor Toba (1103–56), she one day cast a spell on him, and he fell sick and almost died. She was eventually found out by the court astrologer, Abe no Yasunari, who held up a sacred mirror reflecting her true fox form. Pursued and cornered by a skilled archer, she transformed herself at the point of death into a rock that afterward was said to have killed instantly anyone foolish enough to touch its surface. The rock, dubbed sessho seki, or the “death stone,” was finally destroyed in the fifteenth century by the holy monk, Genno, and stories say it disappeared with an enormous explosion of poisonous smoke. Intriguingly, one report claims that the rock’s supposed site in what is now Tochigi Prefecture contains unusually high levels of arsenic in the surrounding area.
Another wily schemer is the tanuki, and a legend from the Shojoji temple in Tatebayashi, Gunma Prefecture, tells of the lucky teakettle that was really a tanuki, leading the monks in a merry chase to capture it. When a tanuki reaches the age of one thousand years it acquires supernatural powers which enable it to transform its shape into all manner of living beings and objects, although its favorite disguise is a Buddhist priest. On a moonlit night a tanuki can lead travelers astray by beating on its enormous belly, emulating the comforting, rhythmic beat of a temple drum. Although they are more mischievous than truly evil, tanuki have been blamed for devouring the wives of woodcutters and accused of smothering hunters beneath their oversized scrota.
This pair of foxes
