Long, long ago
in the province of Tango there lived on the shore of Japan in the little
fishing village of Mizu-no-ye a young fisherman named Urashima Taro. His father
had been a fisherman before him, and his skill had more than doubly descended
to his son, for Urashima was the most skillful fisher in all that country side,
and could catch more Bonito and Tai in a day than his comrades could in a week.
But in the
little fishing village, more than for being a clever fisher of the sea was he
known for his kind heart. In his whole life he had never hurt anything, either
great or small, and when a boy, his companions had always laughed at him, for
he would never join with them in teasing animals, but always tried to keep them
from this cruel sport.
One
soft summer twilight he was going home at the end of a day’s fishing when he
came upon a group of children. They were all screaming and talking at the tops
of their voices, and seemed to be in a state of great excitement about
something, and on his going up to them to see what was the matter he saw that
they were tormenting a tortoise. First one boy pulled it this way, then another
boy pulled it that way, while a third child beat it with a stick, and the
fourth hammered its shell with a stone.
Now
Urashima felt very sorry for the poor tortoise and made up his mind to rescue
it. He spoke to the boys:
“Look
here, boys, you are treating that poor tortoise so badly that it will soon
die!”
The
boys, who were all of an age when children seem to delight in being cruel to
animals, took no notice of Urashima’s gentle reproof, but went on teasing it as
before. One of the older boys answered:
“Who
cares whether it lives or dies? We do not. Here, boys, go on, go on!”
And
they began to treat the poor tortoise more cruelly than ever. Urashima waited a
moment, turning over in his mind what would be the best way to deal with the
boys. He would try to persuade them to give the tortoise up to him, so he
smiled at them and said:
“I
am sure you are all good, kind boys! Now won’t you give me the tortoise? I
should like to have it so much!”
“No,
we won’t give you the tortoise,” said one of the boys. “Why should we? We
caught it ourselves.”
“What
you say is true,” said Urashima, “but I do not ask you to give it to me for
nothing. I will give you some money for it—in other words, the Ojisan (Uncle)
will buy it of you. Won’t that do for you, my boys?” He held up the money to
them, strung on a piece of string through a hole in the center of each coin.
“Look, boys, you can buy anything you like with this money. You can do much
more with this money than you can with that poor tortoise. See what good boys
you are to listen to me”
The
boys were not bad boys at all, they were only mischievous, and as Urashima
spoke they were won by his kind smile and gentle words and began “to be of his
spirit,” as they say in Japan. Gradually they all came up to him, the
ringleader of the little band holding out the tortoise to him.
“Very
well, Ojisan, we will give you the tortoise if you will give us the money!” And
Urashima took the tortoise and gave the money to the boys, who, calling to each
other, scampered away and were soon out of sight.
Then
Urashima stroked the tortoise’s back, saying as he did so:
“Oh,
you poor thing! Poor thing!—there, there! you are safe now! They say that a
stork lives for a thousand years, but the tortoise for ten thousand years. You
have the longest life of any creature in this world, and you were in great
danger of having that precious life cut short by those cruel boys. Luckily I
was passing by and saved you, and so life is still yours. Now I am going to
take you back to your home, the sea, at once. Do not let yourself be caught
again, for there might be no one to save you next time!”
All
the time that the kind fisherman was speaking he was walking quickly to the
shore and out upon the rocks; then putting the tortoise into the water he
watched the animal disappear, and turned homewards himself, for he was tired
and the sun had set.
The
next morning Urashima went out as usual in his boat. The weather was fine and
the sea and sky were both blue and soft in the tender haze of the summer
morning. Urashima got into his boat and dreamily pushed out to sea, throwing
his line as he did so. He soon passed the other fishing boats and left them
behind him till they were lost to sight in the distance, and his boat drifted
further and further out upon the blue waters. Somehow, he knew not why, he felt
unusually happy that morning; and he could not help wishing that, like the
tortoise he set free the day before, he had thousands of years to live instead
of his own short span of human life.
He
was suddenly startled from his reverie by hearing his own name called:
“Urashima,
Urashima!”
Clear
as a bell and soft as the summer wind the name floated over the sea.
He
stood up and looked in every direction, thinking that one of the other boats
had overtaken him, but gaze as he might over the wide expanse of water, near or
far there was no sign of a boat, so the voice could not have come from any
human being.
Startled,
and wondering who or what it was that had called him so clearly, he looked in
all directions round about him and saw that without his knowing it a tortoise
had come to the side of the boat. Urashima saw with surprise that it was the
very tortoise he had rescued the day before.
“Well,
Mr. Tortoise,” said Urashima, “was it you who called my name just now?”
The
tortoise nodded its head several times and said:
“Yes,
it was I. Yesterday in your honorable shadow (o kage sama de) my life was
saved, and I have come to offer you my thanks and to tell you how grateful I am
for your kindness to me.”
“Indeed,”
said Urashima, “that is very polite of you. Come up into the boat. I would
offer you a smoke, but as you are a tortoise doubtless you do not smoke,” and
the fisherman laughed at the joke.
“He-he-he-he!”
laughed the tortoise; “sake (rice wine) is my favorite refreshment, but I do
not care for tobacco.”
“Indeed,”
said Urashima, “I regret very much that I have no sake in my boat to offer you,
but come up and dry your back in the sun—tortoises always love to do that.”
So
the tortoise climbed into the boat, the fisherman helping him, and after an
exchange of complimentary speeches the tortoise said:
“Have
you ever seen Rin Gin, the Palace of the Dragon King of the Sea, Urashima?”
The
fisherman shook his head and replied; “No; year after year the sea has been my
home, but though I have often heard of the Dragon King’s realm under the sea I
have never yet set eyes on that wonderful place. It must be very far away, if
it exists at all!”
“Is
that really so? You have never seen the Sea King’s Palace? Then you have missed
seeing one of the most wonderful sights in the whole universe. It is far away
at the bottom of the sea, but if I take you there we shall soon reach the
place. If you would like to see the Sea King’s land I will be your guide.”
“I
should like to go there, certainly, and you are very kind to think of taking
me, but you must remember that I am only a poor mortal and have not the power
of swimming like a sea creature such as you are—”
Before
the fisherman could say more the tortoise stopped him, saying:
“What?
You need not swim yourself. If you will ride on my back I will take you without
any trouble on your part.”
“But,”
said Urashima, “how is it possible for me to ride on your small back?”
“It
may seem absurd to you, but I assure you that you can do so. Try at once! Just
come and get on my back, and see if it is as impossible as you think!”
As
the tortoise finished speaking, Urashima looked at its shell, and strange to
say he saw that the creature had suddenly grown so big that a man could easily
sit on its back.
“This
is strange indeed!” said Urashima; “Mr. Tortoise, with your kind permission I
will get on your back. Dokoisho!” he exclaimed as he jumped on.
The
tortoise, with an unmoved face, as if this strange proceeding were quite an
ordinary event, said:
“Now
we will set out at our leisure,” and with these words he leapt into the sea
with Urashima on his back. Down through the water the tortoise dived. For a
long time these two strange companions rode through the sea. Urashima never
grew tired, nor his clothes moist with the water. At last, far away in the
distance a magnificent gate appeared, and behind the gate, the long, sloping
roofs of a palace on the horizon.
“Ya.”
exclaimed Urashima. “that looks like the gate of some large palace just
appearing! Mr. Tortoise, can you tell what that place is we can now see?”
“That
is the great gate of the Rin Gin Palace, the large roof that you see behind the
gate is the Sea King’s Palace itself.”
“Then
we have at last come to the realm of the Sea King and to his Palace,” said
Urashima.
“Yes,
indeed,” answered the tortoise, “and don’t you think we have come very
quickly?” And while he was speaking the tortoise reached the side of the gate.
“And here we are, and you must please walk from here.”
The
tortoise now went in front, and speaking to the gatekeeper, said:
“This
is Urashima Taro, from the country of Japan. I have had the honor of bringing
him as a visitor to this kingdom. Please show him the way.”
Then
the gatekeeper, who was a fish, at once led the way through the gate before them.
The
red bream, the flounder, the sole, the cuttlefish, and all the chief vassals of
the Dragon King of the Sea now came out with courtly bows to welcome the
stranger.
“Urashima
Sama, Urashima Sama! welcome to the Sea Palace, the home of the Dragon King of
the Sea. Thrice welcome are you, having come from such a distant country. And
you, Mr. Tortoise, we are greatly indebted to you for all your trouble in
bringing Urashima here.” Then, turning again to Urashima, they said, “Please
follow us this way,” and from here the whole band of fishes became his guides.
Urashima,
being only a poor fisher lad, did not know how to behave in a palace; but,
strange though it was all to him, he did not feel ashamed or embarrassed, but
followed his kind guides quite calmly where they led to the inner palace. When
he reached the portals a beautiful Princess with her attendant maidens came out
to welcome him. She was more beautiful than any human being, and was robed in
flowing garments of red and soft green like the under side of a wave, and
golden threads glimmered through the folds of her gown. Her lovely black hair
streamed over her shoulders in the fashion of a king’s daughter many hundreds
of years ago, and when she spoke her voice sounded like music over the water. Urashima
was lost in wonder while he looked upon her, and he could not speak. Then he
remembered that he ought to bow, but before he could make a low obeisance the
Princess took him by the hand and led him to a beautiful hall, and to the seat
of honor at the upper end, and bade him be seated.
“Urashima
Taro, it gives me the highest pleasure to welcome you to my father’s kingdom,”
said the Princess. “Yesterday you set free a tortoise, and I have sent for you
to thank you for saving my life, for I was that tortoise. Now if you like you
shall live here forever in the land of eternal youth, where summer never dies
and where sorrow never comes, and I will be your bride if you will, and we will
live together happily forever afterwards!”
And
as Urashima listened to her sweet words and gazed upon her lovely face his
heart was filled with a great wonder and joy, and he answered her, wondering if
it was not all a dream:
“Thank
you a thousand times for your kind speech. There is nothing I could wish for
more than to be permitted to stay here with you in this beautiful land, of
which I have often heard, but have never seen to this day. Beyond all words,
this is the most wonderful place I have ever seen.”
While
he was speaking a train of fishes appeared, all dressed in ceremonial, trailing
garments. One by one, silently and with stately steps, they entered the hall,
bearing on coral trays delicacies of fish and seaweed, such as no one can dream
of, and this wondrous feast was set before the bride and bridegroom. The bridal
was celebrated with dazzling splendor, and in the Sea King’s realm there was
great rejoicing. As soon as the young pair had pledged themselves in the
wedding cup of wine, three times three, music was played, and songs were sung,
and fishes with silver scales and golden tails stepped in from the waves and
danced. Urashima enjoyed himself with all his heart. Never in his whole life
had he sat down to such a marvelous feast.
When
the feast was over the Princes asked the bridegroom if he would like to walk through
the palace and see all there was to be seen. Then the happy fisherman,
following his bride, the Sea King’s daughter, was shown all the wonders of that
enchanted land where youth and joy go hand in hand and neither time nor age can
touch them. The palace was built of coral and adorned with pearls, and the
beauties and wonders of the place were so great that the tongue fails to
describe them.
But,
to Urashima, more wonderful than the palace was the garden that surrounded it.
Here was to be seen at one time the scenery of the four different seasons; the
beauties of summer and winter, spring and autumn, were displayed to the
wondering visitor at once.
First,
when he looked to the east, the plum and cherry trees were seen in full bloom,
the nightingales sang in the pink avenues, and butterflies flitted from flower
to flower.
Looking
to the south all the trees were green in the fullness of summer, and the day
cicala and the night cricket chirruped loudly.
Looking
to the west the autumn maples were ablaze like a sunset sky, and the
chrysanthemums were in perfection.
Looking
to the north the change made Urashima start, for the ground was silver white
with snow, and trees and bamboos were also covered with snow and the pond was
thick with ice.
And
each day there were new joys and new wonders for Urashima, and so great was his
happiness that he forgot everything, even the home he had left behind and his
parents and his own country, and three days passed without his even thinking of
all he had left behind. Then his mind came back to him and he remembered who he
was, and that he did not belong to this wonderful land or the Sea King’s
palace, and he said to himself:
“O
dear! I must not stay on here, for I have an old father and mother at home.
What can have happened to them all this time? How anxious they must have been
these days when I did not return as usual. I must go back at once without
letting one more day pass.” And he began to prepare for the journey in great
haste.
Then
he went to his beautiful wife, the Princess, and bowing low before her he said:
“Indeed,
I have been very happy with you for a long time, Otohime Sama” (for that was
her name), “and you have been kinder to me than any words can tell. But now I
must say good-by. I must go back to my old parents.”
Then
Otohime Sama began to weep, and said softly and sadly:
“Is
it not well with you here, Urashima, that you wish to leave me so soon? Where
is the haste? Stay with me yet another day only!”
But
Urashima had remembered his old parents, and in Japan the duty to parents is
stronger than everything else, stronger even than pleasure or love, and he
would not be persuaded, but answered:
“Indeed,
I must go. Do not think that I wish to leave you. It is not that. I must go and
see my old parents. Let me go for one day and I will come back to you.”
“Then,”
said the Princess sorrowfully, “there is nothing to be done. I will send you
back to-day to your father and mother, and instead of trying to keep you with
me one more day, I shall give you this as a token of our love—please take it
back with you;” and she brought him a beautiful lacquer box tied about with a
silken cord and tassels of red silk.
Urashima
had received so much from the Princess already that he felt some compunction in
taking the gift, and said:
“It
does not seem right for me to take yet another gift from you after all the many
favors I have received at your hands, but because it is your wish I will do
so,” and then he added:
“Tell
me what is this box?”
“That,”
answered the Princess “is the tamate-bako (Box of the Jewel Hand), and it
contains something very precious. You must not open this box, whatever happens!
If you open it something dreadful will happen to you! Now promise me that you
will never open this box!”
And
Urashima promised that he would never, never open the box whatever happened.
Then
bidding good-by to Otohime Sama he went down to the seashore, the Princess and
her attendants following him, and there he found a large tortoise waiting for him.
He
quickly mounted the creature’s back and was carried away over the shining sea
into the East. He looked back to wave his hand to Otohime Sama till at last he
could see her no more, and the land of the Sea King and the roofs of the
wonderful palace were lost in the far, far distance. Then, with his face turned
eagerly towards his own land, he looked for the rising of the blue hills on the
horizon before him.
At
last the tortoise carried him into the bay he knew so well, and to the shore
from whence he had set out. He stepped on to the shore and looked about him
while the tortoise rode away back to the Sea King’s realm.
But
what is the strange fear that seizes Urashima as he stands and looks about him?
Why does he gaze so fixedly at the people that pass him by, and why do they in
turn stand and look at him? The shore is the same and the hills are the same,
but the people that he sees walking past him have very different faces to those
he had known so well before.
Wondering
what it can mean he walks quickly towards his old home. Even that looks
different, but a house stands on the spot, and he calls out:
“Father,
I have just returned!” and he was about to enter, when he saw a strange man
coming out.
“Perhaps
my parents have moved while I have been away, and have gone somewhere else,”
was the fisherman’s thought. Somehow he began to feel strangely anxious, he
could not tell why.
“Excuse
me,” said he to the man who was staring at him, “but till within the last few
days I have lived in this house. My name is Urashima Taro. Where have my
parents gone whom I left here?”
A
very bewildered expression came over the face of the man, and, still gazing
intently on Urashima’s face, he said:
“What?
Are you Urashima Taro?”
“Yes,”
said the fisherman, “I am Urashima Taro!”
“Ha,
ha!” laughed the man, “you must not make such jokes. It is true that once upon
a time a man called Urashima Taro did live in this village, but that is a story
three hundred years old. He could not possibly be alive now!”
When
Urashima heard these strange words he was frightened, and said:
“Please,
please, you must not joke with me, I am greatly perplexed. I am really Urashima
Taro, and I certainly have not lived three hundred years. Till four or five
days ago I lived on this spot. Tell me what I want to know without more joking,
please.”
But
the man’s face grew more and more grave, and he answered:
“You
may or may not be Urashima Taro, I don’t know. But the Urashima Taro of whom I
have heard is a man who lived three hundred years ago. Perhaps you are his
spirit come to revisit your old home?”
“Why
do you mock me?” said Urashima. “I am no spirit! I am a living man—do you not
see my feet;” and “don-don,” he stamped on the ground, first with one foot and
then with the other to show the man. (Japanese ghosts have no feet.)
“But
Urashima Taro lived three hundred years ago, that is all I know; it is written
in the village chronicles, ”persisted the man, who could not believe what the
fisherman said.
Urashima
was lost in bewilderment and trouble. He stood looking all around him, terribly
puzzled, and, indeed, something in the appearance of everything was different
to what he remembered before he went away, and the awful feeling came over him
that what the man said was perhaps true. He seemed to be in a strange dream.
The few days he had spent in the Sea King’s palace beyond the sea had not been
days at all: they had been hundreds of years, and in that time his parents had
died and all the people he had ever known, and the village had written down his
story. There was no use in staying here any longer. He must get back to his
beautiful wife beyond the sea.
He
made his way back to the beach, carrying in his hand the box which the Princess
had given him. But which was the way? He could not find it alone! Suddenly he
remembered the box, the tamate-bako.
“The
Princess told me when she gave me the box never to open it—that it contained a
very precious thing. But now that I have no home, now that I have lost
everything that was dear to me here, and my heart grows thin with sadness, at
such a time, if I open the box, surely I shall find something that will help
me, something that will show me the way back to my beautiful Princess over the
sea. There is nothing else for me to do now. Yes, yes, I will open the box and
look in!”
And
so his heart consented to this act of disobedience, and he tried to persuade
himself that he was doing the right thing in breaking his promise.
Slowly,
very slowly, he untied the red silk cord, slowly and wonderingly he lifted the
lid of the precious box. And what did he find? Strange to say only a beautiful
little purple cloud rose out of the box in three soft wisps. For an instant it
covered his face and wavered over him as if loath to go, and then it floated
away like vapor over the sea.
Urashima,
who had been till that moment like a strong and handsome youth of twenty-four,
suddenly became very, very old. His back doubled up with age, his hair turned
snowy white, his face wrinkled and he fell down dead on the beach.
Poor
Urashima! because of his disobedience he could never return to the Sea King’s
realm or the lovely Princess beyond the sea.
Little
children, never be disobedient to those who are wiser than you for disobedience
was the beginning of all the miseries and sorrows of life.
