Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan (36 page)

Another evil habit of foxes is that of making public what they hear said
in private, and taking it upon themselves to create undesirable scandal.
For example, a fox attached to the family of Kobayashi-San hears his
master complain about his neighbour Nakayama-San, whom he secretly
dislikes. Therewith the zealous retainer runs to the house of Nakayama-
San, and enters into his body, and torments him grievously, saying: 'I
am the retainer of Kobayashi-San to whom you did such-and-such a wrong;
and until such time as he command me to depart, I shall continue to
torment you.'

And last, but worst of all the risks of possessing foxes, is the danger
that they may become wroth with some member of the family. Certainly a
fox may be a good friend, and make rich the home in which he is
domiciled. But as he is not human, and as his motives and feelings are
not those of men, but of goblins, it is difficult to avoid incurring his
displeasure. At the most unexpected moment he may take offence without
any cause knowingly having been given, and there is no saying what the
consequences may be. For the fox possesses Instinctive Infinite Vision—
and the Ten-Ni-Tsun, or All-Hearing Ear—and the Ta-Shin-Tsun, which is
the Knowledge of the Most Secret Thoughts of Others—and Shiyuku-Mei-
Tsun, which is the Knowledge of the Past—and Zhin-Kiyan-Tsun, which
means the Knowledge of the Universal Present—and also the Powers of
Transformation and of Transmutation.
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So that even without including
his special powers of bewitchment, he is by nature a being almost
omnipotent for evil.

For all these reasons, and, doubtless many more, people believed to have
foxes are shunned. Intermarriage with a fox-possessing family is out of
the question; and many a beautiful and accomplished girl in Izumo cannot
secure a husband because of the popular belief that her family harbours
foxes. As a rule, Izumo girls do not like to marry out of their own
province; but the daughters of a kitsune-mochi must either marry into
the family of another kitsune-mochi, or find a husband far away from the
Province of the Gods. Rich fox-possessing families have not overmuch
difficulty in disposing of their daughters by one of the means above
indicated; but many a fine sweet girl of the poorer kitsune-mochi is
condemned by superstition to remain unwedded. It is not because there
are none to love her and desirous of marrying her—young men who have
passed through public schools and who do not believe in foxes. It is
because popular superstition cannot be yet safely defied in country
districts except by the wealthy. The consequences of such defiance would
have to be borne, not merely by the husband, but by his whole family,
and by all other families related thereunto. Which are consequences to
be thought about!

Among men believed to have foxes there are some who know how to turn the
superstition to good account. The country-folk, as a general rule, are
afraid of giving offence to a kitsune-mochi, lest he should send some of
his invisible servants to take possession of them. Accordingly, certain
kitsune-mochi have obtained great ascendancy over the communities in
which they live. In the town of Yonago, for example, there is a certain
prosperous chonin whose will is almost law, and whose opinions are never
opposed. He is practically the ruler of the place, and in a fair way of
becoming a very wealthy man. All because he is thought to have foxes.

Wrestlers, as a class, boast of their immunity from fox-possession, and
care neither for kitsune-mochi nor for their spectral friends. Very
strong men are believed to be proof against all such goblinry. Foxes are
said to be afraid of them, and instances are cited of a possessing fox
declaring: 'I wished to enter into your brother, but he was too strong
for me; so I have entered into you, as I am resolved to be revenged upon
some one of your family.'

Now the belief in foxes does not affect persons only: it affects
property. It affects the value of real estate in Izumo to the amount of
hundreds of thousands.

The land of a family supposed to have foxes cannot be sold at a fair
price. People are afraid to buy it; for it is believed the foxes may
ruin the new proprietor. The difficulty of obtaining a purchaser is most
great in the case of land terraced for rice-fields, in the mountain
districts. The prime necessity of such agriculture is irrigation—
irrigation by a hundred ingenious devices, always in the face of
difficulties. There are seasons when water becomes terribly scarce, and
when the peasants will even fight for water. It is feared that on lands
haunted by foxes, the foxes may turn the water away from one field into
another, or, for spite, make holes in the dikes and so destroy the crop.

There are not wanting shrewd men to take advantage of this queer belief.
One gentleman of Matsue, a good agriculturist of the modern school,
speculated in the fox-terror fifteen years ago, and purchased a vast
tract of land in eastern Izumo which no one else would bid for. That
land has sextupled in value, besides yielding generously under his
system of cultivation; and by selling it now he could realise an immense
fortune. His success, and the fact of his having been an official of the
government, broke the spell: it is no longer believed that his farms are
fox-haunted. But success alone could not have freed the soil from the
curse of the superstition. The power of the farmer to banish the foxes
was due to his official character. With the peasantry, the word
'Government' is talismanic.

Indeed, the richest and the most successful farmer of Izumo, worth more
than a hundred thousand yen—Wakuri-San of Chinomiya in Kandegori—is
almost universally believed by the peasantry to be a kitsune-mochi. They
tell curious stories about him. Some say that when a very poor man he
found in the woods one day a little white fox-cub, and took it home, and
petted it, and gave it plenty of tofu, azukimeshi, and aburage—three
sorts of food which foxes love—and that from that day prosperity came
to him. Others say that in his house there is a special zashiki, or
guest-room for foxes; and that there, once in each month, a great
banquet is given to hundreds of Hito-kitsune. But Chinomiya-no-Wakuri,
as they call him, canaffordto laugh at all these tales. He is a refined
man, highly respected in cultivated circles where superstition never
enters.

When a Ninko comes to your house at night and knocks, there is a
peculiar muffled sound about the knocking by which you can tell that the
visitor is a fox—if you have experienced ears. For a fox knocks at
doors with its tail. If you open, then you will see a man, or perhaps a
beautiful girl, who will talk to you only in fragments of words, but
nevertheless in such a way that you can perfectly well understand. A fox
cannot pronounce a whole word, but a part only—as 'Nish . . . Sa. . .'
for 'Nishida-San'; 'degoz . . .' for 'degozarimasu, or 'uch . . . de . .?'
for 'uchi desuka?' Then, if you are a friend of foxes, the visitor
will present you with a little gift of some sort, and at once vanish
away into the darkness. Whatever the gift may be, it will seem much
larger that night than in the morning. Only a part of a fox-gift is
real.

A Matsue shizoku, going home one night by way of the street called
Horomachi, saw a fox running for its life pursued by dogs. He beat the
dogs off with his umbrella, thus giving the fox a chance to escape. On
the following evening he heard some one knock at his door, and on
opening the to saw a very pretty girl standing there, who said to him:
'Last night I should have died but for your august kindness. I know not
how to thank you enough: this is only a pitiable little present. And she
laid a small bundle at his feet and went away. He opened the bundle and
found two beautiful ducks and two pieces of silver money—those long,
heavy, leaf-shaped pieces of money—each worth ten or twelve dollars—
such as are now eagerly sought for by collectors of antique things.
After a little while, one of the coins changed before his eyes into a
piece of grass; the other was always good.

Sugitean-San, a physician of Matsue, was called one evening to attend a
case of confinement at a house some distance from the city, on the hill
called Shiragayama. He was guided by a servant carrying a paper lantern
painted with an aristocratic crest.
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He entered into a magnificent
house, where he was received with superb samurai courtesy. The mother
was safely delivered of a fine boy. The family treated the physician to
an excellent dinner, entertained him elegantly, and sent him home,
loaded with presents and money. Next day he went, according to Japanese
etiquette, to return thanks to his hosts. He could not find the house:
there was, in fact, nothing on Shiragayama except forest. Returning
home, he examined again the gold which had been paid to him. All was
good except one piece, which had changed into grass.

Curious advantages have been taken of the superstitions relating to the
Fox-God.

In Matsue, several years ago, there was a tofuya which enjoyed an
unusually large patronage. A tofuya is a shop where tofu is sold—a
curd prepared from beans, and much resembling good custard in
appearance. Of all eatable things, foxes are most fond of tofu and of
soba, which is a preparation of buckwheat. There is even a legend that a
fox, in the semblance of an elegantly attired man, once visited Nogi-no-
Kuriharaya, a popular sobaya on the lake shore, and ate much soba. But
after the guest was gone, the money he had paid changed into wooden
shavings.

The proprietor of the tofuya had a different experience. A man in
wretched attire used to come to his shop every evening to buy a cho of
tofu, which he devoured on the spot with the haste of one long famished.
Every evening for weeks he came, and never spoke; but the landlord saw
one evening the tip of a bushy white tail protruding from beneath the
stranger's rags. The sight aroused strange surmises and weird hopes.
From that night he began to treat the mysterious visitor with obsequious
kindness. But another month passed before the latter spoke. Then what he
said was about as follows:

'Though I seem to you a man, I am not a man; and I took upon myself
human form only for the purpose of visiting you. I come from Taka-
machi, where my temple is, at which you often visit. And being desirous
to reward your piety and goodness of heart, I have come to-night to save
you from a great danger. For by the power which I possess I know that
tomorrow this street will burn, and all the houses in it shall be
utterly destroyed except yours. To save it I am going to make a charm.
But in order that I may do this, you must open your go-down (kura) that
I may enter, and allow no one to watch me; for should living eye look
upon me there, the charm will not avail.'

The shopkeeper, with fervent words of gratitude, opened his storehouse,
and reverently admitted the seeming Inari and gave orders that none of
his household or servants should keep watch. And these orders were so
well obeyed that all the stores within the storehouse, and all the
valuables of the family, were removed without hindrance during the
night. Next day the kura was found to be empty. And there was no fire.

There is also a well-authenticated story about another wealthy
shopkeeper of Matsue who easily became the prey of another pretended
Inari This Inari told him that whatever sum of money he should leave at
a certain miya by night, he would find it doubled in the morning—as
the reward of his lifelong piety. The shopkeeper carried several small
sums to the miya, and found them doubled within twelve hours. Then he
deposited larger sums, which were similarly multiplied; he even risked
some hundreds of dollars, which were duplicated. Finally he took all his
money out of the bank and placed it one evening within the shrine of the
god—and never saw it again.

Vast is the literature of the subject of foxes—ghostly foxes. Some of
it is old as the eleventh century. In the ancient romances and the
modern cheap novel, in historical traditions and in popular fairy-tales,
foxes perform wonderful parts. There are very beautiful and very sad and
very terrible stories about foxes. There are legends of foxes discussed
by great scholars, and legends of foxes known to every child in Japan—
such as the history of Tamamonomae, the beautiful favourite of the
Emperor Toba—Tamamonomae, whose name has passed into a proverb, and
who proved at last to be only a demon fox with Nine Tails and Fur of
Gold. But the most interesting part of fox-literature belongs to the
Japanese stage, where the popular beliefs are often most humorously
reflected—as in the following excerpts from the comedy of Hiza-Kuruge,
written by one Jippensha Ikku:

(Kidahachi and Iyaji are travelling from Yedo to Osaka. When within a
short distance of Akasaka, Kidahachi hastens on in advance to secure
good accommodations at the best inn. Iyaji, travelling along leisurely,
stops a little while at a small wayside refreshment-house kept by an old
woman)

OLD WOMAN.—Please take some tea, sir. IYAJI.—Thank you! How far is
it from here to the next town?—Akasaka? OLD WOMAN.—About one ri. But
if you have no companion, you had better remain here to-night, because
there is a bad fox on the way, who bewitches travellers. IYAJI.—I am
afraid of that sort of thing. But I must go on; for my companion has
gone on ahead of me, and will be waiting for me.

(After having paid for his refreshments, Iyaji proceeds on his way. The
night is very dark, and he feels quite nervous on account of what the
old woman has told him. After having walked a considerable distance, he
suddenly hears a fox yelping—kon-kon. Feeling still more afraid, he
shouts at the top of his voice:-)

IYAJI.—Come near me, and I will kill you!