Fox Legends
The Fox
Among the many animals worshipped by the Chinese, those at times
seen emerging from coffins or graves naturally hold a prominent
place. They are supposed to be the transmigrated souls of deceased
human beings. We should therefore expect such animals as the fox,
stoat, weasel, etc., to be closely associated with the worship of
ghosts, spirits, and suchlike creatures, and that they should be the
subjects of, or included in, a large number of Chinese legends. This
we find. Of these animals the fox is mentioned in Chinese legendary
lore perhaps more often than any other.
The subject of fox-lore has been dealt with exhaustively by
my respected colleague, the late Mr Thomas Watters (formerly
H.B.M. Consul-General at Canton, a man of vast learning and extreme
modesty, insufficiently appreciated in his generation), in the _Journal
of the North China Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society_, viii, 45-65,
to which the reader is referred for details. Generally, the fox is
a creature of ill omen, long-lived (living to eight hundred or even
a thousand years), with a peculiar virtue in every part of his body,
able to produce fire by striking the ground with his tail, cunning,
cautious, sceptical, able to see into the future, to transform himself
(usually into old men, or scholars, or pretty young maidens), and
fond of playing pranks and tormenting mankind.
Fox Legends
Many interesting fox legends are to be found in a collection of stories
entitled _Liao chai chih i_, by P'u Sung-ling (seventeenth century
A.D.), part of which was translated into English many years ago by
Professor H.A. Giles and appeared in two fascinating volumes called
_Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio_. These legends were related
to the Chinese writer by various people as their own experiences.
Friendship with Foxes
A certain man had an enormous stack of straw, as big as a hill, in
which his servants, taking what was daily required for use, had made
quite a large hole. In this hole a fox fixed his abode, and would
often show himself to the master of the house under the form of an
old man. One day the latter invited the master to walk into his abode;
he at first declined, but accepted on being pressed; and when he got
inside, lo! he saw a long suite of handsome apartments. They then
sat down, and exquisitely perfumed tea and wine were brought; but
the place was so gloomy that there was no difference between night
and day. By and by, the entertainment being over, the guest took his
leave; and on looking back the beautiful rooms and their contents had
all disappeared. The old man himself was in the habit of going away in
the evening and returning with the first streaks of morning; and as
no one was able to follow him, the master of the house asked him one
day whither he went. To this he replied that a friend invited him to
take wine; and then the master begged to be allowed to accompany him,
a proposal to which the old man very reluctantly consented. However,
he seized the master by the arm, and away they went as though riding
on the wings of the wind; and in about the time it takes to cook
a pot of millet they reached a city and walked into a restaurant,
where there were a number of people drinking together and making a
great noise. The old man led his companion to a gallery above, from
which they could look down on the feasters below; and he himself went
down and brought away from the tables all kinds of nice food and wine,
without appearing to be seen or noticed by any of the company. After
a while a man dressed in red garments came forward and laid upon
the table some dishes of cumquats; [36] the master at once requested
the old man to go down and get him some of these. "Ah," replied the
latter, "that is an upright man: I cannot approach him." Thereupon
the master said to himself, "By thus seeking the companionship of a
fox, I then am deflected from the true course. Henceforth I too will
be an upright man." No sooner had he formed this resolution than he
suddenly lost all control over his body, and fell from the gallery
down among the revellers below. These gentlemen were much astonished
by his unexpected descent; and he himself, looking up, saw there was
no gallery to the house, but only a large beam upon which he had
been sitting. He now detailed the whole of the circumstances, and
those present made up a purse for him to pay his travelling expenses;
for he was at Yü-t'ai--a thousand _li_ from home.
The Marriage Lottery
A certain labourer, named Ma T'ien-jung, lost his wife when he was
only about twenty years of age, and was too poor to take another. One
day, when out hoeing in the fields, he beheld a nice-looking young
lady leave the path and come tripping across the furrows toward
him. Her face was well painted, [37] and she had altogether such a
refined look that Ma concluded she must have lost her way, and began
to make some playful remarks in consequence. "You go along home,"
cried the young lady, "and I'll be with you by and by." Ma doubted
this rather extraordinary promise, but she vowed and declared she
would not break her word; and then Ma went off, telling her that his
front door faced the north, etc. At midnight the young lady arrived,
and then Ma saw that her hands and face were covered with fine hair,
which made him suspect at once that she was a fox. She did not deny the
accusation; and accordingly Ma said to her, "If you really are one of
those wonderful creatures you will be able to get me anything I want;
and I should be much obliged if you would begin by giving me some
money to relieve my poverty." The young lady said she would; and next
evening, when she came again, Ma asked her where the money was. "Dear
me!" replied she, "I quite forgot it." When she was going away Ma
reminded her of what he wanted, but on the following evening she made
precisely the same excuse, promising to bring it another day. A few
nights afterward Ma asked her once more for the money, and then she
drew from her sleeve two pieces of silver, each weighing about five
or six ounces. They were both of fine quality, with turned-up edges,
[38] and Ma was very pleased, and stored them away in a cupboard. Some
months after this he happened to require some money for use, and took
out these pieces; but the person to whom he showed them said they
were only pewter, and easily bit off a portion of one of them with
his teeth. Ma was much alarmed, and put the pieces away directly,
taking the opportunity when evening came of abusing the young lady
roundly. "It's all your bad luck," retorted she. "Real gold would be
too much for your inferior destiny." There was an end of that; but Ma
went on to say, "I always heard that fox-girls were of surpassing
beauty; how is it you are not?" "Oh," replied the young lady,
"we always adapt ourselves to our company. Now you haven't the luck
of an ounce of silver to call your own; and what would you do, for
instance, with a beautiful princess? My beauty may not be good enough
for the aristocracy; but among your big-footed, bent-backed rustics,
[39] why, it may safely be called 'surpassing'!"
A few months passed away, and then one day the young lady came and
gave Ma three ounces of silver, saying, "You have often asked me for
money, but in consequence of your bad luck I have always refrained
from giving you any. Now, however, your marriage is at hand, and
I here give you the cost of a wife, which you may also regard as a
parting gift from me." Ma replied that he was not engaged, to which the
young lady answered that in a few days a go-between would visit him
to arrange the affair. "And what will she be like?" asked Ma. "Why,
as your aspirations are for 'surpassing' beauty," replied the young
lady, "of course she will be possessed of surpassing beauty." "I hardly
expect that," said Ma; "at any rate, three ounces of silver will not be
enough to get a wife." "Marriages," explained the young lady, "are made
in the moon; [40] mortals have nothing to do with them." "And why must
you be going away like this?" inquired Ma. "Because," answered she,
"for us to meet only by night is not the proper thing. I had better
get you another wife and have done with you." Then when morning came
she departed, giving Ma a pinch of yellow powder, saying, "In case
you are ill after we are separated, this will cure you." Next day,
sure enough, a go-between did come, and Ma at once asked what the
proposed bride was like; to which the former replied that she was
very passable-looking. Four or five ounces of silver was fixed as the
marriage present, Ma making no difficulty on that score, but declaring
he must have a peep at the young lady. [41] The go-between said she
was a respectable girl, and would never allow herself to be seen;
however, it was arranged that they should go to the house together,
and await a good opportunity. So off they went, Ma remaining outside
while the go-between went in, returning in a little while to tell
him it was all right. "A relative of mine lives in the same court,
and just now I saw the young lady sitting in the hall. We have only
got to pretend we are going to see my relative, and you will be able
to get a glimpse of her." Ma consented, and they accordingly passed
through the hall, where he saw the young lady sitting down with her
head bent forward while some one was scratching her back. She seemed
to be all that the go-between had said; but when they came to discuss
the money it appeared that the young lady wanted only one or two ounces
of silver, just to buy herself a few clothes, etc., which Ma thought
was a very small amount; so he gave the go-between a present for her
trouble, which just finished up the three ounces his fox-friend had
provided. An auspicious day was chosen, and the young lady came over
to his house; when lo! she was humpbacked and pigeon-breasted, with
a short neck like a tortoise, and feet which were fully ten inches
long. The meaning of his fox-friend's remarks then flashed upon him.
The Magnanimous Girl
At Chin-ling there lived a young man named Ku, who had considerable
ability, but was very poor; and having an old mother, he was very
loth to leave home. So he employed himself in writing or painting
[42] for people, and gave his mother the proceeds, going on thus
till he was twenty-five years of age without taking a wife. Opposite
to their house was another building, which had long been untenanted;
and one day an old woman and a young girl came to occupy it, but there
being no gentleman with them young Ku did not make any inquiries as
to who they were or whence they hailed. Shortly afterward it chanced
that just as Ku was entering the house he observed a young lady
come out of his mother's door. She was about eighteen or nineteen,
very clever and refined-looking, and altogether such a girl as one
rarely sets eyes on; and when she noticed Mr Ku she did not run away,
but seemed quite self-possessed. "It was the young lady over the way;
she came to borrow my scissors and measure," said his mother, "and
she told me that there is only her mother and herself. They don't
seem to belong to the lower classes. I asked her why she didn't get
married, to which she replied that her mother was old. I must go and
call on her to-morrow, and find out how the land lies. If she doesn't
expect too much, you could take care of her mother for her." So next
day Ku's mother went, and found that the girl's mother was deaf, and
that they were evidently poor, apparently not having a day's food in
the house. Ku's mother asked what their employment was, and the old
lady said they trusted for food to her daughter's ten fingers. She
then threw out some hints about uniting the two families, to which
the old lady seemed to agree; but, on consultation with her daughter,
the latter would not consent. Mrs Ku returned home and told her son,
saying, "Perhaps she thinks we are too poor. She doesn't speak or
laugh, is very nice-looking, and as pure as snow; truly no ordinary
girl." There ended that; until one day, as Ku was sitting in his
study, up came a very agreeable young fellow, who said he was from a
neighbouring village, and engaged Ku to draw a picture for him. The
two youths soon struck up a firm friendship and met constantly,
and later it happened that the stranger chanced to see the young
lady of over the way. "Who is that?" said he, following her with
his eyes. Ku told him, and then he said, "She is certainly pretty,
but rather stern in her appearance." By and by Ku went in, and his
mother told him the girl had come to beg a little rice, as they had
had nothing to eat all day. "She's a good daughter," said his mother,
"and I'm very sorry for her. We must try and help them a little." Ku
thereupon shouldered a peck of rice, and, knocking at their door,
presented it with his mother's compliments. The young lady received
the rice, but said nothing; and then she got into the habit of coming
over and helping Ku's mother with her work and household affairs,
almost as if she had been her daughter-in-law, for which Ku was very
grateful to her, and whenever he had anything nice he always sent some
of it in to her mother, though the young lady herself never once took
the trouble to thank him. So things went on until Ku's mother got an
abscess on her leg, and lay writhing in agony day and night. Then the
young lady devoted herself to the invalid, waiting on her and giving
her medicine with such care and attention that at last the sick woman
cried out, "O that I could secure such a daughter-in-law as you to see
this old body into its grave!" The young lady soothed her, and replied,
"Your son is a hundred times more filial than I, a poor widow's only
daughter." "But even a filial son makes a bad nurse," answered the
patient; "besides, I am now drawing toward the evening of my life,
when my body will be exposed to the mists and the dews, and I am
vexed in spirit about our ancestral worship and the continuance of our
line." As she was speaking Ku walked in; and his mother, weeping, said,
"I am deeply indebted to this young lady; do not forget to repay her
goodness." Ku made a low bow, but the young lady said, "Sir, when you
were kind to my mother, I did not thank you; why then thank me?" Ku
thereupon became more than ever attached to her; but could never get
her to depart in the slightest degree from her cold demeanour toward
himself. One day, however, he managed to squeeze her hand, upon which
she told him never to do so again; and then for some time he neither
saw nor heard anything of her. She had conceived a violent dislike
to the young stranger above mentioned; and one evening, when he was
sitting talking with Ku, the young lady appeared. After a while she
got angry at something he said, and drew from her robe a glittering
knife about a foot long. The young man, seeing her do this, ran out
in a fright and she after him, only to find that he had vanished. She
then threw her dagger up into the air, and _whish!_ a streak of light
like a rainbow, and something came tumbling down with a flop. Ku got
a light, and ran to see what it was; and lo! there lay a white fox,
head in one place and body in another. "There is your _friend_,"
cried the girl; "I knew he would cause me to destroy him sooner or
later." Ku dragged it into the house, and said, "Let us wait till
to-morrow to talk it over; we shall then be more calm." Next day the
young lady arrived, and Ku inquired about her knowledge of the black
art; but she told Ku not to trouble himself about such affairs, and
to keep it secret or it might be prejudicial to his happiness. Ku
then entreated her to consent to their union, to which she replied
that she had already been as it were a daughter-in-law to his mother,
and there was no need to push the thing further. "Is it because I am
poor?" asked Ku. "Well, I am not rich," answered she, "but the fact
is I had rather not." She then took her leave, and the next evening
when Ku went across to their house to try once more to persuade her
the young lady had disappeared, and was never seen again.
The Boon-companion
Once upon a time there was a young man named Ch'ê, who was not
particularly well off, but at the same time very fond of his wine;
so much so that without his three stoups of liquor every night he was
quite unable to sleep, and bottles were seldom absent from the head
of his bed. One night he had woken up and was turning over and over,
when he fancied some one was in the bed with him; but then, thinking
it was only the clothes which had slipped off, he put out his hand
to feel, and in doing so touched something silky like a cat. Striking
a light, he found it was a fox, lying in a drunken sleep like a dog;
and then looking at his wine bottle he saw that it had been emptied. "A
boon-companion," said he, laughing, as he avoided startling the animal,
and, covering it up, lay down to sleep with his arm across it, and the
candle alight so as to see what transformation it might undergo. About
midnight the fox stretched itself, and Ch'ê cried, "Well, to be sure,
you've had a nice sleep!" He then drew off the clothes, and beheld an
elegant young man in a scholar's dress; but the young man jumped up,
and, making a low obeisance, returned his host many thanks for not
cutting off his head. "Oh," replied Ch'ê, "I am not averse to liquor
myself; in fact they say I'm too much given to it. If you have no
objection, we'll be a pair of bottle-and-glass chums." So they lay
down and went to sleep again, Ch'ê urging the young man to visit him
often, and saying that they must have faith in each other. The fox
agreed to this, but when Ch'ê awoke in the morning his bedfellow had
already disappeared. So he prepared a goblet of first-rate wine in
expectation of his friend's arrival, and at nightfall sure enough he
came. They then sat together drinking, and the fox cracked so many
jokes that Ch'ê said he regretted he had not known him before. "And
truly I don't know how to repay your kindness," replied the former,
"in preparing all this nice wine for me." "Oh," said Ch'ê, "what's
a pint or so of wine?--nothing worth speaking of." "Well," rejoined
the fox, "you are only a poor scholar, and money isn't so easily to be
got. I must see if I can't secure a little wine capital for you." Next
evening, when he arrived, he said to Ch'ê, "Two miles down toward
the south-east you will find some silver lying by the wayside. Go
early in the morning and get it." So on the morrow Ch'ê set off,
and actually obtained two lumps of silver, with which he bought some
choice morsels to help them out with their wine that evening. The fox
now told him that there was a vault in his backyard which he ought to
open; and when he did so he found therein more than a hundred strings
of cash. [43] "Now then," cried Ch'ê, delighted, "I shall have no more
anxiety about funds for buying wine with all this in my purse!" "Ah,"
replied the fox, "the water in a puddle is not inexhaustible. I must
do something further for you." Some days afterward the fox said to
Ch'ê, "Buckwheat is very cheap in the market just now. Something is
to be done in that line." Accordingly Ch'ê bought over forty tons,
and thereby incurred general ridicule; but by and by there was a bad
drought, and all kinds of grain and beans were spoilt. Only buckwheat
would grow, and Ch'ê sold off his stock at a profit of 1000 per
cent. His wealth thus began to increase; he bought two hundred acres
of rich land, and always planted his crops, corn, millet, or what not,
upon the advice of the fox secretly given him beforehand. The fox
looked on Ch'ê's wife as a sister, and on Ch'ê's children as his own;
but when subsequently Ch'ê died it never came to the house again.
The Alchemist [44]
At Ch'ang-an there lived a scholar named Chia Tzu-lung, who one day
noticed a very refined-looking stranger; and, on making inquiries
about him, learned that he was a Mr Chên who had taken lodgings
hard by. Accordingly, Chia called next day and sent in his card,
but did not see Chên, who happened to be out at the time. The same
thing occurred thrice; and at length Chia engaged some one to watch
and let him know when Mr Chên was at home. However, even then the
latter would not come forth to receive his guest, and Chia had to
go in and rout him out. The two now entered into conversation, and
soon became mutually charmed with each other; and by and by Chia sent
off a servant to bring wine from a neighbouring wine-shop. Mr Chên
proved himself a pleasant boon-companion, and when the wine was nearly
finished he went to a box and took from it some wine-cups and a large
and beautiful jade tankard; into the latter he poured a single cup of
wine, and immediately it was filled to the brim. They then proceeded
to help themselves from the tankard; but however much they took out,
the contents never seemed to diminish. Chia was astonished at this,
and begged Mr Chên to tell him how it was done. "Ah," replied Mr Chên,
"I tried to avoid making your acquaintance solely because of your
one bad quality--avarice. The art I practise is a secret known to
the Immortals only: how can I divulge it to you?" "You do me wrong,"
rejoined Chia, "in thus attributing avarice to me. The avaricious,
indeed, are always poor." Mr Chên laughed, and they separated for that
day; but from that time they were constantly together, and all ceremony
was laid aside between them. Whenever Chia wanted money Mr Chên would
bring out a black stone, and, muttering a charm, would rub it on a tile
or a brick, which was forthwith changed into a lump of silver. This
silver he would give to Chia, and it was always just as much as he
actually required, neither more nor less; and if ever the latter asked
for more Mr Chên would rally him on the subject of avarice. Finally
Chia determined to try to get possession of this stone; and one day,
when Mr Chên was sleeping off the fumes of a drinking-bout, he tried
to extract it from his clothes. However, Chên detected him at once,
and declared that they could be friends no more, and next day he
left the place altogether. About a year afterward Chia was one day
wandering by the river-bank, when he saw a handsome-looking stone,
marvellously like that in the possession of Mr Chên; and he picked
it up at once and carried it home with him. A few days passed away,
and suddenly Mr Chên presented himself at Chia's house, and explained
that the stone in question possessed the property of changing anything
into gold, and had been bestowed upon him long before by a certain
Taoist priest whom he had followed as a disciple. "Alas!" added he,
"I got tipsy and lost it; but divination told me where it was,
and if you will now restore it to me I will take care to repay your
kindness." "You have divined rightly," replied Chia; "the stone is
with me; but recollect, if you please, that the indigent Kuan Chung
[45] shared the wealth of his friend Pao Shu." At this hint Mr Chên
said he would give Chia one hundred ounces of silver; to which the
latter replied that one hundred ounces was a fair offer, but that he
would far sooner have Mr Chên teach him the formula to utter when
rubbing the stone on anything, so that he might try the thing once
himself. Mr Chên was afraid to do this; whereupon Chia cried out,
"You are an Immortal yourself; you must know well enough that I
would never deceive a friend." So Mr Chên was prevailed upon to
teach him the formula, and then Chia would have tried the art upon
the immense stone washing-block [46] which was lying near at hand
had not Mr Chên seized his arm and begged him not to do anything
so outrageous. Chia then picked up half a brick and laid it on the
washing-block, saying to Mr Chên, "This little piece is not too much,
surely?" Accordingly Mr Chên relaxed his hold and let Chia proceed;
which he did by promptly ignoring the half-brick and quickly rubbing
the stone on the washing-block. Mr Chên turned pale when he saw him
do this, and made a dash forward to get hold of the stone, but it was
too late; the washing-block was already a solid mass of silver, and
Chia quietly handed him back the stone. "Alas! alas!" cried Mr Chên
in despair, "what is to be done now? For, having thus irregularly
conferred wealth upon a mortal, Heaven will surely punish me. Oh,
if you would save me, give away one hundred coffins [47] and one
hundred suits of wadded clothes." "My friend," replied Chia, "my
object in getting money was not to hoard it up like a miser." Mr
Chên was delighted at this; and during the next three years Chia
engaged in trade, taking care to fulfil always his promise to Mr
Chên. At the expiration of that time Mr Chên himself reappeared, and,
grasping Chia's hand, said to him, "Trustworthy and noble friend,
when we last parted the Spirit of Happiness impeached me before God,
[48] and my name was erased from the list of angels. But now that you
have carried out my request that sentence has been rescinded. Go on
as you have begun, without ceasing." Chia asked Mr Chên what office
he filled in Heaven; to which the latter replied that he was only
a fox who, by a sinless life, had finally attained to that clear
perception of the truth which leads to immortality. Wine was then
brought, and the two friends enjoyed themselves together as of old;
and even when Chia had passed the age of ninety years the fox still
used to visit him from time to time.