About Folk Tales
by Yanagita Kunio

To those who will make use of this volume I should present briefly some comments about the meaning of the study of folk tales and at the same time offer some words of caution to those who may undertake such study in the future.

The collection of folk tales in Japan has a history of only a little more than thirty years.¹ We could say this is a whole century behind the work of the Grimm brothers. Nevertheless, we cannot regard this delay as altogether unfortunate for several reasons—first, we are glad that Japan is a country that has been able to hand down such old style things until so very recently and then, all the study of the last century will be of use to us as we consider things anew, and will also make it possible through our efforts to present items that might have gone without notice in any other country.

There are any number of examples of Japanese folk tales that have been preserved in writing by chance since the beginning of the medieval period. To begin with, there is the greater part of the otogizōshi,² handed down since the middle of the Ashikaga era, and then, going further back into the past, we find what is called the parent of tales, Taketori monogatari.³ I believe that this Taketori monogatari is an embellishment of a folk tale which was being transmitted at that time, and that it was set down by chance and not deliberately hunted out and recorded. Certainly, when I published Tōno monogatari⁴ in 1910, a few folk tales of the Tōno region were included at the end of it. This was simply because the narrator happened to remember them since his childhood, while to me, who wrote them down, it had never yet occurred to wonder what a thing called a folk tale was. Within the next ten years or so, however, many folk tales in very complete form appeared from here and there in the region, and at present Iwate Prefecture has become unique in the whole land for the number of folk tales which has been recorded there. This was the beginning of a new life for Sasaki Kizen, who had been the first to introduce them.

Even someone like Seki Keigo, who is leading in the study of folk tales today, was at first deeply interested in legends and put all his efforts into publishing them, but I learned upon inquiry that his mother was a narrator of numerous tales. Besides, there had been an old man in his village who recalled many folk tales of unusual form and liked to tell them to people, which made me understand that Seki had been unconsciously influenced by folk tales. On the whole, legends and folk tales have different meanings and follow different courses, but strangely enough, wherever the one is preserved there is a deep interest in the other. I think that we must consider anew the question of the relationship between these two forms.

Many interesting facts have come to light as time goes on. It was found that there were already a few people at scattered places in outlying regions who had a more than ordinary liking for folk tales. Even though they were not inclined to set them down in writing, such people in the course of their long lives instructed one or two of what we might call disciples, and through them the stream of tales continued, and in some instances even grew. One of the pleasant discoveries was that on Ikinoshima in the west there had been Yoshino Hidemasa, a scholar who had made very detailed records of geographical features of the island, and while his name was known to me and others, we found among his notations there was a surprising number of folk tales, a great exception in those days. This furnished the circumstance through which Yamaguchi Asatarō came to study folk tales.

I was inclined to think there would be still other such instances. There was the unusual example of a person who went on a trip to Mikawa and brought back a little picture book which he happened to find in a secondhand book store, a book copied by hand, in which ten tales were presented without a single word of explanation, only pictures, but it showed that at the time they were drawn people could recall and enjoy tales by only looking at pictures of them. These facts made us feel we would not leave matters to chance, and we gradually set up plans to collect tales all over Japan.

Our first step in undertaking this work was the journal Tabi to densetsu.⁵ It published two numbers devoted to folk tales, and from these we could understand for the first time that throughout the land, no matter which way we turned, there were little centers where people were interested in folk tales, and we could not fail to see the similarity in the tales which they recalled. There were no tales especially of Shikoku, for example, or of Hokuriku. By means of these two issues of folk tales, our interest was aroused in a country-wide collection of tales. At the same time we realized we should take up the study of tales according to their standard forms.

To be sure, among the books that gave us hints were some from abroad that came to hand a few at a time. The detailed classification of Aarne and Thompson came out later, but there was the work of Miss Charlotte Sophia Burne,⁶ published by the Folk-lore Society of England, in which she presented seventy-two varieties of forms. Some of them were not so popular in Japan as in her country, but on the whole there was a similarity to ours. We were encouraged in our plan by the fact that if we searched here for tales parallel to ones in distant lands, we could find them. Even now my estimate does not seem wrong, for excluding some very short humorous tales, there are a few more here than in England, making it possible to say that there are around one hundred types of tales in Japan. Beyond that there are traces of others, but we cannot vouch absolutely for them.

Encouraged by these unexpected circumstances, we set up two more plans. The first was the publication of Mukashibanashi saishū techō,⁷ a guide for collecting tales. It was a comparatively small piece of work, but one with which I took particular pains. I limited the number to 100 well-known selections from folk tales and set down a name for each. Since I thought that if I wrote the example in too much detail it would be long and get in the way, I kept each down to the main points. Opposite each I left a blank page for a place to record newly collected variations. This work became the foundation for the present Nihon mukashibanashi meii.⁸ Perhaps it was a bit pretentious, but in the first part of the Techō I explained something of what a folk tale is and the significance of gathering tales for those whose interest was still slight. We were assisted financially in this work by a certain organization, so we distributed all the copies among friends at no cost, and at present only two or three copies are left on hand. Unfortunately, the samples in the little book, although given as briefly as possible, proved to be such interesting reading that, contrary to the original plan, they were kept as personal possessions, and not a single copy was returned with newly recorded tales. Even if the books were not returned, nobody is going to deny that those who had the Techō came to like folk tales more.

On nights when I would put up at some remote farmhouse on a trip, sitting in the peaceful, silent light of the open hearth, I would take out the Techō and begin to read aloud, or to pass it around, and then I would notice a certain stir among those seated there. Looks would be exchanged with a laugh, or a story would be begun by somebody who knew one, and suddenly feelings would relax and the atmosphere would soften, providing a pleasure we can say is reserved for students of folklore, not only of folk tales but of other areas as well, but I cannot say so without sympathizing at the same time with those who knew tales. We came to learn indirectly that in the lonely farm and fishing villages, other than festivals and anniversaries there was only the folk tale for diversion among ordinary people.

Through this study we understood the history belonging to the mass of common folk, and so as not to confine it to our pleasure alone, we decided upon a further step, that of publishing the journal Mukashibanashi kenkyū,⁹ making it an activity in which the whole country could join. This was published in the first year by Hagiwara Masanori, the editor of Tabi to densetsu, with whom we were associated. In the following year it was taken over by a cerain other publisher, and because it became mixed up with other work of that firm, it did not continue beyond the second year. There was no material to print without manuscripts coming from readers, but while it was being issued, specimens arrived that seemed written only for diversion, fake tales or invented ones, making selection difficult. While it was being published, at any rate, we were able to preserve part of the folk tales that were cherished in the land. But strictly speaking, there are places a magazine reaches and others it does not, and there were some people who wanted to utilize ours for other purposes, so a systematic plan could not be established for collecting the tales. We considered other ways to collect, had circumstances permitted, but these were all beset with difficulties. The number of persons who actually knew tales was limited, and trying to run into a sincere narrator was as difficult as the blind leading the blind.

For example, the Women’s Normal School of Shizuoka was publishing something they called Shizuoka-ken densetsu mukashibanashi shū.¹⁰ If one looked carefully, he could see that the telling of a single tale differed from person to person, and among the women students there were two sisters from Izu and another from Enshū, I think it must have been, who made reports that left deep and vivid impressions. I am sure people like these had mothers or grandmothers living with them who were good story tellers, and it would have been better to have set out promptly to contact them, but we were hindered by various matters, and as times changed and we missed people. I should admit we had not reached the degree of enthusiasm attained by those Grimm brothers. But I felt more and more strongly that things could not go on as they had been, and we began taking some first positive steps.

We sent letters to people who were interested in our work, and through donations from the Keimei-kai, members of our group set out from time to time to do collecting. As a result, several volumes came out from places with which we had had no previous contact, and we gained noteworthy results by going to Sado Island and to Koshikijima. The reason folk tales of Kawagoe were published was that there were active people there. When these tales had been gathered and compared, a single tale showed extraordinary variations according to regions. At the same time, the same tale would exist in places separated by a distance of from five to seven hundred miles, between which there was no reason to think there had been much contact, all of which made our interest even deeper. In order to make this interest in the study of the folk tale more widespread, we took our fourth step, that of publishing Zenkoku mukashibanashi kiroku,¹¹ a series of collections from all over the country. It was just at war time when reading materials were scarce because of the austerities of the period, so we sold more copies than we had expected. By the close of the war we had published thirteen volumes, and it would be well worth it to continue putting them out. Since I still have a considerable amount of material at hand, I feel that this should be carried out speedily.

While engaged in collecting and publishing tales, I became keenly aware that in general they were known to old people, particularly to old women, and I was apprehensive lest when the narrators were gone, the links to the tales would disappear. But the inclination to enjoy folk tales takes root during youth, and I found that young people and those busy with daily duties, the housewives, appreciated the value of tales and were attached to them, although they did not express their feelings in words. However, in present day society there are many things that attract attention, their volume increasing since the war, so that even among those who are naturally gifted, their prewar power to concentrate is disturbed by outside influences—we might also say they lack occasion to recall what is in their memories—and there is a tendency, even a real danger, toward extinction of the tales. But under the severe circumstances of these times it is possible to think there are many whose souls seek peace, and we hope, therefore, that the publication of this volume will serve as a means of rehabilitating our people.

From the general inclination toward the historical approach, an approach which is not necessarily limited to the study of folk tales, emphasis at first was put upon the study of origins. Although folk tales are fiction, they probably were not enjoyed as such in the beginning. The fact that similar tales exist even among very primitive peoples, who have not yet reached the stage where they can create such art, shows that a foundation even older than the human desire to create art is present, and scholars in various countries and from various times have seen this germ in myths. The word “myth” is a term employed by scholars of philosophy and religion, hence we carefuly avoid its use. But there are tales which could not have been believed without faith, and since myths were formerly both narrated and listened to by people who believed them, there are students of mythology who look to myths for the origin of folk tales. This may be correct, but it would be difficult to assert with finality that it is true. It would be difficult to prove because religious beliefs have already changed. It is pleasant to search for the old faith of our ancestors in folk tales, but this is a day in which some sort of proof must be the basis for scholarship, and there is a danger in tinkering with study simply as a hobby. It is a problem worth evaluation, but to study the folk tale with only this in mind would be unreliable, and we cannot advise it.

There are, however, still plenty of scholarly pleasures that can be enjoyed. One is the discovery that while making a comparative study of races that outwardly have had no relationship, tales of undeniable unity appear, for among those gathered by the Grimm brothers there are some in exactly the same form as in Japan and some with similar parts. It is estimated by a few that there are as many as fifty such stories. There are those who say that tales such as “The bean, the charcoal and the straw,” “The cat and the rat,” “The girl without arms,” and “The handmill that ground out salt” have been imported, which might be so if it could be proved that the tales arrived after trade began with the “Southern barbarians,” but some of them have older histories than that. Furthermore, the tales are found in regions where influence from the new trade was not felt, and their tales cannot be called importations offhand. The stepchild tale we call “Nukabuku, Komebuku” was certainly here before trade with the West.

Also, there are some tales which are said, in spite of the lack of proof, to be of Indian origin, crossing into China and arriving here from there. This is an interesting speculation, but we are still far from being able to conclude it is true. It is unthinkable that anyone who had read the Buddhist writings from beginning to end would have carried their contents to farmers and fishermen here, and even if they employed some tales in their sermons, those which would have been of use to such men were limited in number. Even considering China as an intermediary, it could have happened only around the time Japanese records had begun, and it would be impossible to determine which tales existed previously to that time, and which arrived subsequently.

It is difficult to imagine at this time that a single tale could have existed among peoples who had no natural relationship, but must this necessarily be so? Perhaps in a period not recorded in annals there might have been an exchange across borderlands between peoples, but when we consider the great barrier of language, that theory, too, has many difficult elements. However, the more we compare folk tales the more inclined we are toward the view that there may have been a point at which exchange existed, and if that were true, we would have to take a different view of world culture.

Transporting folk tales within a single land itself, was a miracle, for it would be difficult to convey them actually from the limits of Ōshū in the east to the islands of Okinawa in the south. Admitting that people from separated places within the land came into touch with each other on occasions other than at battles, such communication did not go beyond hurrying home as soon as the business at hand was accomplished, and it must be recognized as a striking point in the culture of the past that brought about such circulation of folk tales throughout the country. For us who base our opinions upon what is close by, research into the problem is directed to the consideration of how tales were transported. It is beyond doubt that zatō,¹² miko,¹³ and itinerant entertainers carried them.

There are two forms in which folk tales have been transmitted, one of which was carried by foot travelers, and we might say the odor of these tales can be detected immediately. The other way was in the form transmitted within the family, a grandfather or grandmother passing them on to a grandchild, and over a long period of years their character adjusted to the family circle. When we compare the latter to the former, it is like comparing hand-loomed fabric to that which is mechanically woven, so great the difference between them has become. In other words, selection has been at work among those who made use of the tales.

In order to deal with this problem, I am setting up a new scale for judging tales. For example, a narrator is sensitive to the demands of the listener, so that when hearers of a folk tale were children, it became pure and simple, but in the mountains or aboard a craft where only adult men associated, the tale became correspondingly vulgar, the wishes of the hearers becoming apparent naturally. Pointing this out I refer to the aesthetic level of readers, and in the case of folk tales, I can see how the tales have changed as they have been told. What is obvious to me as I consider the problem is that we can not say at random that because the country is the same, it follows that the tale is uniform.

Within a broader range which includes tales of various countries and in a narrow range, tales within a single country, tales are modified, and this process, aside from the origin and transmission of the tale, is an important theme for research. Even in literary circles of this day authors may seem to pick up plots at random, but the current that carries them along is the pleasure of their reading public. In like manner, the development of the folk tale throughout an undetermined length of time, but we might say for at least a thousand years, must be recognized as evidence of a cultural level, beside their contents, that was changing. That is why we intend to record the year and month when we hear a tale as well as the place and region and the age of the narrator as we pass it on.

There may be some matters involved which will escape the notice of readers. If you are inclined to notice points similar to foreign examples, you might receive a more vivid impression if we called one of the stories “Cinderella” rather than “Nukabaku, Komebuku,” but by leaving the name used by someone somewhere who recalls it, we hope to discover how the story turns out. When it came to giving names to tales, there were some stories that resembled ones in Europe, such as “Le Morte Reconnaisance” or “Singing Bones,” and the like, so while there was not always a song in the tale, I decided upon “Utai gaikotsu (singing bones)” as a title. “Rat sutra” is a group found in various parts of Japan. However, it is known by that name in only one part of Kyūshū, but it was a good title and I picked it up.

We have said that there are about one hundred tales in Japan, but there may be others yet to be collected. The expectation that holds the greatest attraction for us is that in some corner of the land we can discover a tale which is about to become extinguished and bring it out into the light of the world. We want people who make use of this book to feel like trying to discover a story whose name and form are not included here and to give the editors a little surprise.

We have not reached all the corners of the land. As a by-product of this work, then, we would expect to find a tale somewhere like “Kokōjirō,” for example, which is better and more beautifully arranged. Instead of the harsh, gloomy ending of “Urikohime,” a version told as “Nishiki Chōja,” as lovely as a picture, came from one remote corner of Senhoku in Ugo. If this book were to furnish such an opportunity, the discovery should be the means for folk tales to become more than a subject for scholarly research. They would become once more national treasures.

Yanagita Kunio
October, 1947

FOOTNOTES

The following footnotes have been added by the editor-translator.

1.This estimate was made in 1947.

2.Otogizōshi were tales which circulated from the time of Muromachi (1382-1573).

3.Taketori monogatari was written in the early 10th century.

4.Tōno monogatari. Enlarged edition, Tokyo: Kyōdo Kenkyūsha, 1935.

5.Tabi to densetsu. Begun in 1928 and continued through 1943. A total of sixteen volumes was published.

6.Charlotte Sophia Burne, The Handbook of Folklore, Revised and Enlarged. London, 1913.

7.Mukashibanashi saishū techō. Tokyo: Minkan Denshō-no-Kai, 1936.

8.Nihon mukashibanashi meii. Tokyo, 1948.

9.Mukashibanashi kenkyū, 1935-1937, two volumes.

10.Shizuoka-ken densetsu mukashibanashi shū, Shizuoka Joshi Shihan Gakkō Kyōdo Kenkyūdkai, ed. Shizuoka: 1934.

11.Zenkoku mukashibanashi shū. Tokyo: Sanseidō, 13 volumes published between 1942 and 1944.

12.Zatō. A blind itinerant musician traveling a fixed route and often belonging to a group housed in a temple. Zatō told stories and entertained hosts where they were put up.

13.Miko. A woman with a special role in folk faith.