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; “then. Mr. Tortoise, with your
kind permission I will get on your back. Dokoisho!”[2] he exclaimed as
he jumped on.
[2] “All right” (only used by lower classes).
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.