[CHAPTER XXVIII: SUPERSTITIONS]
Japanese Superstition
The subject of Japanese superstition is of special importance, because it serves to indicate the channel by which many myths and legends, but more particularly folk-lore, have evolved. Superstition is, as it were, the raw material out of which innumerable strange beliefs are gradually fashioned into stories, and an inquiry into the subject will show us the peasant mind striving to counteract certain supernatural forces, or to turn them to advantage in every-day life. Many superstitions have already been recorded in these pages, and in the present chapter we shall deal with those that have not been treated elsewhere. It is scarcely necessary to point out that these superstitions, selected from a vast store of quaint beliefs, are necessarily of a primitive kind and must be regarded, excluding, perhaps, those associated with the classic art of divination, as peculiar to the more ignorant classes in Japan.
Human Sacrifice
In prehistoric times the bow was believed to possess supernatural power. It would miraculously appear on the roof of a man's house as a sign that the eldest unmarried daughter must be sacrificed. She was accordingly buried alive in order that her flesh might be consumed by the Deity of Wild Beasts. Later on, however, the bow was no longer the message of a cruel divinity, for it gradually lost its horrible significance, and has now become a symbol of security. To this day it may be seen fixed to the ridge-pole of a roof, and is regarded as a lucky charm.
We have another example of human sacrifice in the old repulsive custom of burying a man alive with the idea of giving stability to a bridge or castle. In the early days, when forced labour existed, there was unfortunately scant regard for the sacredness of human life. Those who laboured without reward were under the control of a merciless superintendent, who emphasised his orders by means of a spear. He was ready to kill all those who were idle or in any way rebellious, and many corpses were flung into the masonry. When a river had to be dammed, or a fortification constructed with the utmost despatch, this deplorable deed was not unusual.
When a new bridge was built its utility and long life were assured, not always by human sacrifice or sorrow, but sometimes by happiness. The first persons allowed to walk over a new bridge were those of a particularly happy disposition. We are told, that two genial old men, who each had a family of twelve children, first crossed the Matsue bridge, accompanied by their wives, children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. This joyous procession took place amid much rejoicing and a display of fireworks. The idea of happiness contributing to the success of a Japanese bridge is a pretty conception, but, unfortunately, the old bridge of Matsue, now replaced by one far less picturesque, is associated with a very unpleasant tradition.
When Horiō Yoshiharu became Daimyō of Izumo he arranged to build a bridge over the turbulent river at Matsue. Many laboured to carry out his wishes, but the work did not prosper. Countless great stones were flung into the rushing water with the idea of making a solid base on which to construct the pillars, but many of the stones were washed away, and as soon as the bridge took tangible form it was wrecked by the fierce torrent. It was believed that the spirits of the flood were angry, and in order to appease them it was deemed necessary to offer a human sacrifice. A man was accordingly buried alive below the central pillar where the water was most turbulent. When this had been done the work prospered, and the bridge remained intact for three hundred years. Gensuke was the unfortunate victim, and this was the name given to the central pillar. It is said that on moonless nights a mysterious red fire shines from this pillar—the ghostly emanations of poor Gensuke.