The subject of Witchcraft and Demonology presents as inexhaustible a field of interesting matter as any other in the wide domain of Chinese Folk-lore. So much however has already appeared on the subject of witchcraft that, were not a full notice of popular Chinese superstitions in this respect an essential portion of the plan I have proposed, I should scarcely venture to deal at length with a [80]matter which has already been handled with considerable ability by other pens. And indeed the following details consist more of a re-arrangement of already accessible information than of much that will be new to students of Chinese social life.

Thirteen hundred years before the birth of Christ, witches and wizards were familiar objects of Chinese superstitious respect. It is probable that they practised their occult arts at a period long anterior even to this, but the direct evidence to that effect is scanty and unreliable. Suffice it to say that the office of “Chief Wizard” was at that date a recognized appointment, and that he and his brethren exerted in those early days a powerful influence over the popular mind. They could “call spirits from the vasty deep,” avert pestilence and famine and do all that is pretended on behalf of their modern successors. But scant notices of their doings however are to be found in the ancient records of the Empire. Every now and then it is related how some emperor or celebrated man resorted to the wizard fraternity to discover future events, or the means of avoiding some threatened evil. But it was not until about the third century before the Christian era that such notices were at all common. We then read that wizards existed who could summon familiars and were often consulted by the reigning potentates.

It is especially noteworthy that the hatred of witches and wizards cherished in the West does not seem to exist in China. Those reputed to possess magic powers are regarded with dread, but it is rare to hear of any of them coming to untimely end by mob violence. The more educated literati ridicule the implicit belief placed in their pretensions by the unlettered mob, but take no part in exciting it to violence, and the feeling is abundantly evidenced by the tone adopted in popular novels wherein witchcraft often plays a conspicuous part. Besides those who make a living as professed exorcists, the members of two trades—builders and plasterers—fall under a suspicion of similarly unholy proclivities. Witchcraft has always been deemed a communicable art in China. In the Supplement to the History of the Genii we read: “Yang Tʻung Yew when a child met a Tauist priest who taught him the art of invocation and gave him a celestial writing of the three August Ones, by which he could command and subject all ghost shên, none of them failing to answer him instantly. Yang went down to the ninth depth of the earth to seek for the ghost of a royal concubine amongst the ghost shên in that quarter.” Indeed the power of summoning demons is a conventional portion of Chinese supernatural tales. Thus, in a recently published translation of a popular novel entitled The Thunder Peak Pagoda,1 we find the heroine and her servant (both originally serpents) consulting together as to how they shall raise money:—

“ ‘What then can we do?’ says the mistress. ‘It will be very easy for you, Madam, to find money,’ replied the slave girl, ‘for you are possessed of supernatural powers, and you have only to make use of some spell this evening, to [81]enable you to procure whatever sum you may require, and by these means you will prove to him that you are truly of a wealthy family, and that you are the daughter of a high officer.’ Pĭ-chau-niang agreed to what her servant advised, and accordingly that evening, at the third watch, she prepared seven pans of burning charcoal in a circle, and entering therein with a drawn double-edged knife, began walking round and round, muttering incantations; suddenly she uttered a loud cry, and summoned to her presence all the chiefs of the demons from the four corners of the earth, who instantly appeared and knelt before her crying, ‘Your servants are present—In what can the spirits serve their mistress?’ Pĭ-chau-niang ordered them to bring her a thousand taels of silver. Hardly had she uttered the words, when the money was before her in twenty ingots of fifty taels each.”

The Chinese idea of genii can best be given in the words of their own writers. A genie, says one of them, will live upon air, or even give up breathing the outer air and carry on the process of breathing inwardly, as they say, for days together as in a catalepsy (like an Indian fakeer buried alive?). He will become invisible: he will take the form of any beast, bird, fish or insect. He will mount up above the clouds, dive into the deepest sea or burrow into the centre of the Earth. He will command spirits and demons of all sorts and sizes and have them at his beck and call. And finally after living in the world for perhaps several hundred years he does not die (for a genie is immortal, though a spirit may not be so), but he rides up to heaven on the back of a dragon where he becomes a ruler of spirits.

The Tauist considers genii as the highest class of intelligent beings and places Shên or spirits next below them: the strict Confucianist denies their existence—

Paradise Lost, IL., 24.

In Kwan-tzu, sec. 14, we find this definition:—“That which when it would be small becomes like a moth or a grub, when it would be large fills the world, when it would ascend mounts the cloudy air, when it would descend enters the deep—whose transformations are not limited by days, nor its mounting or falling by seasons, is called Shên (or spirit).”—The agreement of this with the description of genii given in the Arabian Nights is too obvious to need insisting on. Taoist genii (仙人) are thus described: “The genie is a man who had a former existence in the world of spirits, is born into the world either on account of some indiscretion or for some benevolent object, or simply by way of amusement—usually in some lowly situation. He early begins to shew a predilection for things mysterious, to receive visitors from the unseen world, to practice Alchemy and the healing art, to prepare and use certain drugs and charms of which no one knows the use or the virtue but himself, and the more advanced genii from whom he gets from time to time instruction and assistance; and then to give up human food and all ordinary human occupation.” After this there is [82]scarcely any marvellous thing which the human mind can fancy that he will not be found doing. One of the most celebrated genii alluded to in Chinese history is Chang Kwoh, who possessed a white mule which could transport him if required thousands of miles in a single day, and which when he halted he folded up and hid away in his wallet.2 Another was Hu Kung, 壺公 a magician who effected wonderful cures and was accustomed to retire at sunset to the interior of a gourd hung up at his own doorpost. (See Ch. Readers’ Manual, sect. v.) Many females also are numbered in the list of such beings, one of the most celebrated being Ma Ku 麻姑. The seeds of the Che 芝 plant were reputed by the Tauist mystics to be the food of the genii, as were also the leaves of the Yoh Wang 藥王 tree which grows in the moon. The result of using this food is that the bodies of those who eat of it become pellucid as crystal.3 As with the Westerns the genii possess the secret of a magic powder. They use the yellow heron (Hwang Kuh Ko) as an aërial courser.

The “Isles of the genii” San Shên Shan 三仙山 were supposed to lie pretty much where Formosa actually exists, and, like the fabled Atlantis of European superstition, they have been the subject of actual search. Su Shih or Su Fuh, a necromancer who lived about B.C. 219, announced their existence to the then Emperor, and, in accordance with his own request, was placed at the head of a large troop of young men and maidens, and set out on his voyage of discovery; but the expedition, though it steered within sight of the magic island, was driven back by contrary winds. Mr. Mayers adds to this account in his Manual that it is conjectured this legend has some reference to attempts at colonizing the Japanese islands. If so the parallel between the Isles of the genii and Atlantis is yet more perfect.

A very superficial comparison of Chinese and Western ideas on the subject of necromancy demonstrates their identity. The familiar stories of Jane Shore and the Countess of Soissons, accused respectively of making waxen images of the Duke of Gloucester and of Louis XIV. to compass their death; the less known account of the death of Ferdinand Earl of Derby, whose death by poison in the reign of Elizabeth was by popular credulity attributed to witchcraft, “a waxen image with hair like that of the unfortunate earl being found in his chamber and reducing every suspicion to certainty;” King James’ remarks in his Daemonology (Book II., Ch. V.) “that the devil teacheth how to make pictures of wax or clay, that by roasting thereof, the persons that they bear the names of may be continually melted or dried away by continual sickness”;—these and the host of similar stories recorded in our own and continental annals all find an exact reproduction in China.4 There is a well-known legend amongst the Cantonese of a builder having a grudge against [83]a woman whose kitchen he was called upon to repair—(builders, as already noted, are believed to often practice witchcraft). The repairs were duly completed, but somehow or other the woman could never visit the kitchen without feeling ill. Convinced that witchcraft was at the bottom of it, she had the wall pulled down, and sure enough there was discovered in a hollow left for the purpose “a clay figure in a posture of sickness.” It may be noted that a reflex of the old English superstition that drawing blood from a witch renders her harmless is suggested by the Chinese belief regarding images such as that above described. Builders or plasterers are supposed to cut a gash in some part of their bodies whence the warm blood is injected into the interior of the image thus making it alive! Nor does Chinese superstition confine itself to clay images only. It is believed that certain wizards are able to endow with life figures cut out of paper with similar effects. In other cases these paper mannikins become the wizard’s familiars and obey all his orders. There is also a widespread superstition that the feathers of birds, after undergoing certain incantations, are thrown up into the air and being carried away by the wind work blight and destruction wherever they alight.

References to necromancers who have at various times enjoyed a large amount of popular reverence abound in Chinese history, though it is somewhat difficult to distinguish between the historical “magician” and the mythical “genie.” In Mr. Mayers’s very comprehensive Manual are notices of, amongst others, Hsien Yuan chi, who (A.D. 847) played the part of Cagliostro, pretending to the gift of perpetual youth and the power of transforming lovely damsels into wrinkled harridans and vice versa; of Li Shao kun (Circa B.C. 140), who professed to know the secrets of transmutation and immortality; of Lu-Pan, the patron saint of Carpenters, who carved a genie which of three years inflicted drought on the people of Wu; of Lu Yen (A.D. 755), who for 400 years wielded a magic sword with which he traversed the Empire, slaying dragons and emulating the deeds of the knights of Western chivalry; of Tʻu Yü and Yü Lui, renowned for their magic control over evil spirits; and of Tso-Tzŭ, who in the second century practised magic. It is noteworthy that throughout all this mass of legend there runs the same vein of search after the elixir of youth and the philosopher’s stone which forms so prominent a feature of our own mediæval history. “Men of the four seas are all brothers,” says one of the tritest of Chinese apothegms; and so it would seem.

The vast extent of the Chinese Empire has allowed the natives to allot a portion of its territory to a tribe of magicians called mao shan; and it is to this country that those desirous of acquiring magical arts proceed, to place themselves under the instruction of its diabolical inhabitants. Adepts in their lore can, it is asserted, make fowls which, being placed outside houses it is desired to rob, will during the night open its doors so as to admit the robbers. Another belief refers to the existence of invisible necromancers called shan ching kwei 閃靑鬼. People who have been deeply wronged and are unable to otherwise avenge themselves can by practising certain spells become shan ching kwei. The most efficacious way is to dig up a coffin, and, after [84]removing the body it contains, to sleep in it for several nights in succession. At the end of so many days the sleeper becomes invisible until dawn, and can thus gratify his revenge without fear of detection.

A belief in demon monsters somewhat resembling the genii of the Arabian Nights exists in full force in China and dates back to respectable antiquity. One of the Emperors who flourished about 700 A.D., having been taken ill, dreamt he saw a blue half-naked devil coming into his palace. He stole the empress’s perfume bag and also the emperor’s flute which was made of precious stone, and flew off with them to the palace roof. Suddenly there appeared another blue devil, but of giant stature, having a black leather high boot on one foot, the other being bare. He had on a blue gown. One arm was like his foot, bare, with which he wielded a massive sword. His mouth was like that of a bull. This fierce looking monster seized the little one and with a blow made an end of him. The Emperor asked this monster demon what his name was. He said his name was Tsung Kwei, and that he was a military M.A. when in the body, but that now he had become a sort of colonel-commandant over all imps, ogres, wraiths, hobgoblins and the like under heaven. The emperor was greatly flattered at being visited by such a distinguished although unearthly personage, and waking up found his illness gone. He called a painter to paint for him what he had seen in his dream; and it was executed so faithfully that the emperor ordered two hundred ounces of gold to be given him and that copies of the painting should be distributed throughout the whole empire, so that all the people might know and pay due respect to this blue bull-headed demon. To this day he holds a conspicuous place in the temples of the people.

5“Although this monster demon ranked high, he was low when compared either to the ancient or present head of the vast host which abounds in the air, the earth, or the infernal regions. All mermaids of the deep, all satyrs of the forest, all needle-necked starving ghosts, the weak and the strong, whatever forms they take, whether birds, fishes, beasts or men, or a combination of some or all of them, make nondescript monsters of demons. All are said to have existed in the time of Fuhi, and immediately after that time under the rule of the harpy Nü-kwa 女媧. She had a human face with the body of a bird. It was she who mended the visible heavens for us, but unfortunately it was not completed. There is a little hole in the north west corner, and to this day the wind from that quarter is colder than any other.

“The present head of the demons was a Tauist priest named Chang Tau Ling, who lived when the kingdom of Wei was powerful. At sixty years of age, he ate the pills of immortality, after which, Lautsze, the founder of Tauism, appeared to him and gave him supreme power over all demons. When he was thus appointed to be the modern head of the demon kingdom, Lautsze gave him a book of charms and spells together with two magic swords. Chang Tau Ling lived to the age of 123 years, when he ascended in the light of day to his onerous [85]duties of ruling the devils. After this many of the Tauists for a time actually called themselves devils; the name evidently had become respectable.

“Having dealt with demons in general, let us now proceed to a special class of human phenomena which the Chinese attribute to the influence of demons. Firstly, then, is their power to produce diseases. There is no disease to which the Chinese are ordinarily subject to that may not be caused by demons. In this class the mind is untouched; it is only the body that suffers, and the Chinese endeavour to get rid of them by vows and offerings to the gods. The subject in this case is an involuntary one.

“Next come those who are possessed by the indwelling of the evil spirit. These the Chinese distinguish from the lunatics both by their appearance and language. There is more of a cringing nature in the possessed, and the patient’s manner is perfectly consistent with his or her new consciousness, and which is said to be the demon’s. When questioned as to his home, the demon answers, it is in the mountain or desert, generally in some cave. Sometimes he says that the person whom he had possession of before is dead, and having no abode, he takes up his quarters with a new victim. Sometimes he says he is travelling or has only come to pay a visit to a brother or sister, to a father or mother, and that after a short stay he will go away. Those possessed range between 15 and 50 years of age—quite irrespective of sex. Possession comes on very suddenly—sometimes in the day, sometimes in the night. The demoniac talks madly—smashes everything near—possesses unusual strength, tears his clothes into rags and would rush into the streets or to the mountains, or kill himself, unless prevented. After this violent possession, the demoniac calms down and submits to his fate, but under the most heart-rending protests. These mad spells which are experienced on the demon’s entrance return at intervals and become more frequent the longer possessed and generally with more intensity, so that death at last ensues from their violence.

“A Chefoo boy aged 15 was going on an errand. His path led him through fields where men were working at their crops. When he came up to the men and had exchanged a word or two with them he suddenly began to rave violently, his eyes rolled, and he made for a pond which was by. Seeing this, the people ran up to him, stopped him from drowning himself and took him home to his parents. When he got home he sprang up from the ground several yards, manifesting superhuman strength. After a few days he calmed down and became unusually quiet and gentle, but his own consciousness was lost. It was that of another. He spoke of his friends in Nanking. After six months the demon departed, and the boy got back his own consciousness. He has been in the service of several foreigners in Chefoo since. In this case no worship was offered to the demon.

“Now we come to those who are involuntarily possessed but who yield to the worship of the demon. The demon says he will cease from tormenting the demoniac if he worships him and will reward him by increasing his riches. But if not, he will punish his victim, make heavier his torments and rob him of his property. People find that their food is cursed, and that whenever [86]they prepare any, filth and dirt comes down from the air to make it uneatable. Their water is likewise cursed, their wardrobe is set on fire, and their money very mysteriously disappears. Hence arose the custom of cutting off the head of the string of cash that it might not run away. The 999 cash of the thousand is made to return to the one left in the following manner. The blood of a fly called Fu-chien (蚨蟬) sprinkled on the one cash left at home and the fly’s eggs are put on the 999 cash that are laid out. Tradition says (and Kanghi’s Dictionary perpetuates it) that the young flies in the eggs, although fastened to each cash, will all find their way back again to their mother, bringing the cash with them. When the people’s faith in these and similar antidotes fail, they yield to the demon and say, ‘Hold! Cease thy cursings, we will worship thee.’ A picture is stuck up on the wall, sometimes that of a woman, sometimes of a man and prostration is made to it twice a month. Being thus reverenced, money comes mysteriously in instead of going out. Even millstones are made to move in at the demon’s orders and the family at once becomes rich. But it is said that no luck attends such a family; it will eventually be reduced to poverty. Even officials believe these things. Palaces are known to have been built by them for these demons, whilst the latter are obliged to be satisfied with humbler shrines from the poor.”

Stories of persons being possessed by demons are so common that it is difficult to choose from the selection which offers itself. I quote the following as illustrating one phase of the common belief. It relates to animal possession, and is as follows:—“At Ningpo, some religious Buddhist published a tract with a picture of a buffalo, a frog and a dog, and some Chinese characters. It tells how a native of Ningpo, who used to catch and kill frogs, was possessed by the spirit of his victims, how his body broke out into blotches, how he squatted like a frog, and finally was impelled to spit himself in the very manner he had spitted these innocent little reptiles.”

The other story is a translation from the Chinese,6 and runs as follows:—In Funghua district a literary man surnamed Woo had a slave girl of fifteen or sixteen who was black and ugly, but his wife was fair and beautiful. The slave always slept in the wife’s apartment, till suddenly one day she was missing and could not be found for two or three days. At last an old female servant on going to fetch firewood and opening the coal-hole heard an inexplicable chirping noise and turning aside some of the firewood found the girl standing like a stump in the middle of it. She was perfectly inane and on being pulled out, though she walked, would answer no questions. They gave her a dose of hot ginger and water, upon which she threw up a basin full of mud. Then she began to speak and said, “There was an old man like a genie in green clothes and square cap came and called me away, the other day, I know not where. When I wanted food he gave me cakes to eat. But now I am very hungry.” They gave her some rice and that night she slept in her mistress’s room. But everything in the room was being pulled about, so that the master and mistress got up to look. They called the girl, but she did [87]not answer, and as the doors and everything were in their usual state they said nothing about it. Next day the girl was missing again, and searching for her in the old place they found her exactly as before. On giving her three slaps with the hand she came to herself, but while they were in the act of scolding her lo! there was what she called “an old man like a genie” up in the eaves of the house, holding a white fan and in appearance neither old nor young but middle-aged. They went up to the room above and tried to strike him, but they could not hit him nor make him move. In the midst of the hubbub he suddenly disappeared. But as suddenly it was reported that fire had broken out in the kitchen. This was extinguished, and then all was quiet. But afterwards every night either the slave or her mistress muttered or talked in the bedroom, or else there was heard the sound of people eating, or doing something out of the way. The master did not know what to do. One day he went and got some brave men to keep guard around the room with fire-arms, but then a fire broke out down stairs, and while all the people were putting it out the mistress and slave seemed perfectly unconscious that anything was going on. Next day, when the rice was cooked, on opening the pot they found that it was all mixed with dirt, and uneatable. There was no end to annoyances of this kind. At last they called in a Tauist priest to fast and say requiems. At the same time a “Fragrant Feast” of fine things was prepared as if for a great visitor. The master of the house put on his best clothes and also knelt down while he presented the wine and the viands: and the whole family small as well as great worshipped one whole day and night. But the trouble went on exactly as before. The genie himself would make his appearance at odd times; and in the dark there would be talking and conversation indistinctly heard, so that nothing could be definitely made out of them. One day the mistress took the slave girl, and fled with her to her (own) mother’s house; and then everything was out of joint there. There were sounds and movements, and dashing and breaking of things, and clothes burning. So they fled next to a small quiet Buddhist nunnery. But bad as things were before, here they were worse; and the master was at his wits’ end, all his means being exhausted to no purpose. After about half a year of this he took the girl and sold her to a villager in the neighbouring district of Tʻsze Kʻe, and his wife had peace at last. The villager however found the girl an intolerable nuisance, and when he wanted to sell her no one would buy her; so he drove her out into the street. But nobody would have anything to do with her there either, and she turned to begging. Then her master had peace and quietness.

There are many more stories about the Woo-tung-shên (五通神). It appears from the Tsze-pu-yu (子不語) that in one village in Sze-chuan he required a young girl for a wife every year, and that the girl chosen became possessed by this evil spirit.

The active possession which induces a sort of ecstatic frenzy, and vents itself by bodily exertion is quite familiar to the Chinese. Persons under this influence are known as “devil dancers,” and to a great extent act the part of media for those who desire to make enquiries from the other world [88]or induce the assistance of spirits to heal the sick. When devil dancers are called in, a feast is prepared in their honour. The head dancer, accompanied by pupils who are learning the art, presents himself at the house and having done justice to the viands provided commences by burning incense, while enquiries are made as to what is amiss. Some of the attendants then seat themselves with drums, bells, &c., and begin a sort of musical accompaniment to which the dancers keep time. Presently the music quickens; the dancers increase their speed until the whole party are almost convulsed with their efforts. Suddenly the leading dancer falls exhausted to the ground. Here for a few moments he lies as if lifeless. Presently he raises himself up and begins to speak. Questions are put to him and he describes the disease of the sick man, the remedies he ought to adopt, &c. When all the questions are answered he again falls as if exhausted, and is gradually brought back to ordinary consciousness.

Mr. Gardner states that in Manchuria “they do not ordinarily observe the custom of inviting their neighbours’ spirits, but the devil-dancers are far better skilled in their art. The chief, with a belt of bells, stands up to dance with two of his pupils on each side. If he has not four pupils, some from the family must make up the number. The devil-dancers present many varieties and various ways of calling on the spirits. Thus, for instance, the chief says his demon is a white tiger. A whole pig must be cooked for him. He must get two children, one in each hand, to go with him to eat pig out of the boiling caldron. He assumes himself to be a tiger and thrusts his head down to his neck in the boiling water, and bites a mouthful off for his young whelp in his right hand, then a thrust and a bite for the whelp in his left hand, and finally a thrust and a bite for himself. This over, he commences the dance. Most of the class just described are men, but there are women also who are devil-dancers. They never condescend to go about. Those who seek their assistance must go to them. In seeking their aid, the suppliant takes with him presents of incense and paper money to worship the demons, besides valuable presents of bread, red cloth, and red silks. These neither dance nor beat drums nor ring bells, but sit and commence a slow shaking as from ague; then yawn, gape, and at last shake so violently that the teeth rattle in their gums; then they fall into a fit, like the former class. They tell the suppliant to return home and place a cup on the window outside, and the right medicine will be put into it by a spirit. The suppliant is at the same time made to vow that he will contribute to the worship of the particular demon, whose power and intervention they now invoke, and that he will also contribute towards some temple in the neighbourhood.”

The impostors who gain their living in the way above described are of course mere ordinary mortals whose power of simulating hysteria and epilepsy easily imposes upon the masses. But the Chinese believe in the existence of a class who are human only in their outward appearance. They are supposed to be veritable demons specially sent from the spirit world to warn mankind of the consequences which may follow indulgence in evil. A Minister [89]of State during the time of the Tʻang is alleged to have been one of these demons, and legends illustrative of his powers are still to be met with in the collections of popular tales to be found in every book-stall. It does not appear that the old English belief as to witches was very remote from this demon theory. In one case we read of a witch being hunted for in a salt box, it being supposed that she possessed the diabolical power of changing her shape to any extent. But the whole subject of Western witchcraft is so wide that space forbids my even entering upon it—to say nothing of the fact that most readers are fully acquainted with the subject.

It is somewhat odd to find—and one is puzzled to know whether the fact is complimentary to Christianity or the reverse—that in those parts of China to which missionary effort has penetrated, a popular belief exists in the power of Christian exorcism. Missionaries of all denominations know of cases in which either they or their converts have been called in “to cast out the devil” supposed to possess a patient. Were this to be accepted as a tribute to their powers as real intercessors with the Creator, the fact would be gratifying; but it is to be feared that the confidence thus evinced turns rather on the popular belief that Christian relations with the Satanic hierarchy are uncommonly intimate. Be this as it may, the fact remains that converts are classed with the native exorcists. Most places of any pretension have demon shrines to which the friends of those afflicted resort in the first instance. Offerings are here made to demons of all descriptions—not merely to those which take possession of men, but to those of floods, drought7 and pestilence. It is when supplications at such shrines are useless that exorcists are consulted.

Exorcists are of various kinds. Spiritualists, such as those already described, are frequently called in, their success being various. Taoist priests find more favour with some people, and their pretensions are not one whit inferior to those of the more orthodox media. Conjurors of this sort, says a writer before quoted, “sit on mats and are carried by invisible power from place to place. They ascend to a height of 20 or 30 feet and are carried to a distance of 4 or 5 li. Of this class are those who, in Manchuria, call down fire from the sky in those funerals where the corpse is burnt. These conjurors not only use charms but recite incantations, make magic signs and use some of those strange substances which the astrologer uses to keep away evil influences.” The class of so-called doctors also enjoy the reputation of being able to cast out evil spirits, and their modus operandi is thus described:—“They use needles to puncture the tips of the fingers, the nose, and the neck. They also use a pill made out of ai tsau 艾草 and apply it in the following manner: The thumbs of the two hands are tied tightly to each other. The two big toes are [90]also tied to each other in the same manner. Then one pill is put on the two big toes at the root of the nails and the other at the root of the thumb nails. At the same instant the two pills are set on fire and there they are kept until the flesh is burnt. Whether in the application of the pills or in the piercing of the needles the invariable cry is—‘I am going, I am going immediately. I’ll never dare to come back again. Oh have mercy on me this once; I’ll never return.’ ” All the above-mentioned practitioners may however fail, and as a last resort a professional exorcist, neither medium, priest, nor doctor, is called in. The men who follow this as a profession pretend to singular experiences. As the recognized enemies of evil spirits these latter never cease to persecute them. They are mysteriously pinched and beaten by the Puck-like emissaries of ghostly tormentors. Stones are thrown at them by unseen beings, and spirit hands seize and attempt to drown them if they incautiously venture into running water. To counteract these influences they always carry about their persons amulets of which the spirits stand in dread. Their first act when called in is to paste written charms upon the windows and doors of the room in which they operate. They then recite certain formulæ and are sometimes answered by the spirits, who promise to cease troubling the patient in future.

As with us there is a sovereign Chinese charm against witches. Sir Walter Scott, in his Old Mortality, refers to the popular belief that they can only be shot with silver bullets. A Chinese receipt given in the Rites of Chow is as follows: “If you wish to kill this Shên, take a certain piece of wood with a hole in it: insert a piece of ivory in the hole, making the form of a cross and throw it into the water: thus the Shên will die and the deep become a hill.” Certain officers were in old times appointed to “hoot at,” “shoot,” and “kill” those spirits (shên) which were injurious.

The popular identification of the cat with matters pertaining to witchcraft in Europe is well known, and it is interesting to find that the Chinese assign to it a somewhat similar connection. As with us the vulgar believe that witches can change themselves into cats,8 though the hare, and more especially the fox, [91]are reputed to be their more favourite disguises. But the demoniacal attributes of a cat’s ghost are more singular. In Section I. of the Che Wên Luh (誌聞錄) occurs the following notice9: “At Leong Chow in the province of Kansuh the people sometimes do homage to the ghost of a cat. The same thing is mentioned in the history of the North. The way they proceed with this monstrous thing is first to hang the cat, and then perform certain ceremonies of fasting and requiems for seven weeks, when the spiritual communication is established. This is afterwards transferred to a wooden tablet, and put up behind the door, where the owner of the cat honours it with offerings. By the side of it is placed a bag about five inches long, intended for the cat’s use. From time to time it goes and steals people’s things, and then, about the fourth watch of the night before cock crowing, the bag is amissing. After a little while it is hung up on the corner of the house, and the person uses a ladder to fetch it down. When the mouth of the bag is opened, and the bag inverted over a chest, as much as two hundred catties of rice or peas are got out of it, so much does the depraved imp manage to make the little space hold. Those who serve it always get rich very fast.”

A certain prefect once received a birthday present of rice from a friend. It weighed over a thousand catties and was put into a large cask. Several days after the prefect sent a man to divide it out, when it was noticed that the top of the flour was all in a crust like paper, while below it was clean gone. The man, in a fright, told the prefect, who sent an officer to enquire into the matter. It was then found that behind the prefect’s residence there was a person who practised sacrificing to this kind of cat. The officer found out the image and severely chastised it in the hall with forty blows, and also flogged its owner. He then laughed and sent them off. After this, as the story goes, the Shin had no efficacy. Choo-tzu says—“The spirituousness (Ling) of Shên is the result of the accumulated earnestness of the people—there is really no Shên. When one turns his back upon it the spirituousness is immediately dispersed. Therefore while the people honor it the Shin keeps its place, but you may scatter it with a kick.”

Tigers also figure as demoniacs or ghosts. In the same work as that above quoted from a story relates how a benighted traveller suddenly observed amongst the brushwood a brilliant light and a man in red clothes, with a golden crown and armour of rare brightness, and before and behind him a regular retinue of followers. The traveller was astonished, and, wondering what mandarin it could be, hid himself in the wood. Next day he asked the [92]natives of the place who it could have been. They told him it was the tiger ghost of the mountains. “When he wishes to eat people up he puts off his clothes and is changed into a striped tiger. He then advances with a great roar and the traveller is instantly torn in pieces.” “You,” said they, “have had a wonderful escape.”

Nor are tigers alone in this regard. The ghosts of the “green ox” and “black fowl”10 are mentioned in native legends; while a yet more fantastic extract narrates that “the carp as soon as its scales number 360 is caught and carried away by dragons; but if every year a shên be placed to guard it, it cannot be carried away. This shên is a tortoise.”11

Dragons again furnish their quota of ghostly representatives, and the following legend accounts for the popular belief. “During the reign of an emperor of the Tʻang dynasty, the dragon god of rain had greatly offended the Supreme god, and orders were consequently given to the prime minister to behead him on such and such a day. On the night before the execution, the dragon god of rain appeared in a dream to the Emperor and begged him to intercede on his behalf and exercise his influence over his minister. The Emperor promised he would. The following day the Emperor invited his minister to play chess with him. He hoped he would forget the time, and that the dragon god would thus be saved. As the hour drew nigh the minister got very sleepy. The Emperor seeing this, said nothing about the dragon god, but let the minister sleep. Suddenly, the latter jumped up and said, ‘I must behead immediately;’ and right between them a dragon’s head fell from the sky. The King fell back with fright and was taken ill. That night the dragon’s ghost appeared to him in a dream and threatened him severely for this breach of promise, insisting on bringing the case up before the judge of the lower regions. The Emperor explained, begged forgiveness and made a promise, the results of which remain to this day. He engaged to honour the dragon god by having all his high officers and the great people of the land to carry the dragon above their heads. The plan adopted was to place a dragon’s head on every palace roof, so that when the gentry and officials were at home, they had a dragon’s head over them. The head seen so often on temples and palaces is said to have had this origin.” In those days, adds the account from which the foregoing is quoted, the demons had such unlimited power to transform themselves that a son would not leave his father, or a husband his wife, without secret tickets, which they carried about with them and compared on meeting. If a person was unable to produce the ticket he was believed to be a demon in human form. This is the origin of the proverb: “If your ticket be lost, you are hopeless.”

But of all known animals the fox plays the principal part in Chinese demonology. European folk-lore assigns a prominent place to the were-wolves (Germ. Wehrwolf, Port. Lobis-homem), which are even now believed by the superstitious peasantry of many countries to haunt their native forests. [93]Well, in China we find the same idea in a slightly different form. The fox takes the place of the wolf, and “fairy foxes” play an important part in every native collection of supernatural tales. The belief in their existence dates from remote antiquity, though more prevalent in Northern than in Southern China, the inhabitants of the latter taking the doings of genii more especially as the basis of their fairy lore. There is however this difference between the were-wolf and the fairy fox:—that whereas the former is invariably malicious, the latter may be either beneficent or malignant. In many of the tales the fox is only transformed (as in the well-known nursery story of “Beauty and the Beast”) into human shape after making acquaintance with its host. “At the age of 50 the fox can take the form of a woman, and at that of 100 can assume the appearance of a young and beautiful girl. When 1000 years old he is admitted to the heavens and becomes the celestial fox.”12

In and about Peking the belief in foxes having power to assume a human shape flourishes perhaps more thoroughly than in any other part of the empire, though similar stories are told throughout the eighteen provinces. The Liao-chai-chih-yi (聊齋志異), a collection of tales published in 1765, abounds with narrations of this nature, many of the most curious, unfortunately, being unsuitable for publication in an English dress. But the whole subject has been so fully dealt with in accessible publications that the extended notice which the subject would permit is unnecessary. Dr. Birch, of the British Museum, wrote an interesting paper on the subject of Fairy Foxes13 in No. III., of the Chinese and Japanese Repository (1863), which was followed by a notice from the pen of the well-known sinologue Mr. W. F. Mayers, in No. III., of Vol. I., of Notes and Queries on China and Japan (1867). The most complete essay on the subject, however, which has yet appeared was written by Mr. T. Watters, and read before the North China Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society in March 1873. That accurate and painstaking scholar thus opens his remarks on the subject:—

“Chinese philosophers seem to be agreed in attributing to Reynard a long life, some making the number of his years 800 and others extending it even to a thousand. This power of prolonging life they suppose to result from the animal’s living in caves and holes where it is shut out from the sun. The vital powers can thus operate free from disturbance and the wearing effect of the sun’s heat and light. The fox, badger, mole and some other cave-dwelling [94]animals are all grouped together as enjoying long life. The Chinese are not alone in thus regarding the exclusion of light and air as tending to prolong existence. Not to refer to others, our own Bacon says:—‘A life in caves and holes, where the rays of the sun do not enter, may perhaps tend to longevity; for the air of itself unexcited by heat has not much power to prey upon the body. Certainly on looking back, it appears from many remains and monuments that the size and stature of men were anciently much greater than they had been since, as in Sicily and some other places; and such men generally lived in caves. Now there is some affinity between length of age and largeness of limbs. The cave of Epimenides likewise passes current among the fables.’ ”

The use of the several parts of the fox’s body in the Chinese pharmacopeia is followed by an account of the Chinese opinion of his cunning, in which we read as follows:—

“Like most Western nations the Chinese ascribe to the fox a cunning, crafty disposition by which he can disarm suspicion on the part of the very animals which constitute his prey.… The notion about the fox’s caution is put to practical use in the North of China, for it has been observed that when he is crossing a frozen river or lake he advances very slowly and deliberately, putting his head down close to the ice and listening for the sound of water beneath. Accordingly when in the early spring the traveller fears the stability of the ice, if he observes on its surface traces of the fox’s footsteps he may proceed any without apprehension. One can easily see what an opportunity is presented here again to the Chinese mind for the exercise of myth-making ingenuity. Below the ice is the region of the Yin or female element—the dark world of death and obscurity—while above it is the region of the Yang or male element—the bright world of life and activity. Accordingly it has come to pass that the fox is represented as living on the debatable land which is neither the earth of life nor the Hades of death. His dwelling place on the earth is among the tombs, or actually, rather, within the tomb, and the spirits of the deceased often occupy the body. Thus he enables ghosts of the dead to return to life or himself performs their terrible behest—visiting upon living men and women the iniquities they have committed against those now dead, and by this means bringing peace and rest to the souls of the latter which would else be travelling and troubling for ever.”

From the numerous stories given by Mr. Watters in illustration of the popular belief in the fox’s powers of transformation, I take only the following:—“It is as a pretty girl that the fox appears most frequently and does most mischief. Disguised as a woman it is always young and handsome, generally wicked, but on rare occasions very good. At times it puts on the garb and appearance of some one well known, but who is either dead or at a great distance. An accomplished scholar who resides in a village about twenty miles from Foochow told me not long ago a story which affords an illustration of this personation of particular individuals. A friend of his had ill-treated and, as was supposed, secretly killed a pretty young wife and married another. Soon after this latter event the house was reported to be haunted and no servant [95]would remain in the family. The first wife’s apartments were the worst of all, and this part of the premises had to be abandoned. Now one day my friend was reading with the master of the house in the works of Chuhsi, and they came to the passage which treats of ghosts and spirits. They then ceased reading and entered into a conversation on the subject, and the story of the haunted chambers was related. My friend laughed at and reproached the weakness which made a scholar believe in ghosts, and finally the two agreed to remove to that portion of the dreadful rooms. Before they had been seated here a long time, strange sounds became audible and soon the pit-pat of a woman’s steps was heard. The door opened without any noise, and in walked the murdered woman clothed as of old. The blood forsook the two men’s faces, speech fled their lips, and had it not been for the law of gravity their pigtails would have stood on end. There they sat paralyzed with mute awe and gazing on the spectre, which went pit-pat over the boards looking neither to right nor left until it reached the corner in which was a small wash-hand-stand with a basin of water. She took the basin in her hand and walked steadily with it over to the man who had been her husband, presenting it to him, when he instantly uttered a terrible scream and fell backwards. Then the spectral woman walked away and her patter was heard along the boards until she reached the outer door. My friend summoned up courage to go out and make investigation, but no human creature had been stirring, and only the fox which came almost daily had been seen on the premises. The house has been abandoned, the owner has gone elsewhere, but my friend believes that the ghost of the murderer’s wife will torment him by means of a fox daily until it brings him to the grave.”

It would be easy to multiply stories of this nature, but their narration would unduly swell the limits of the chapter, while those who are curious on the subject can easily refer to Mr. Watters’s paper. I prefer therefore to turn to the analogies with Chinese belief presented elsewhere. Neither amongst the Semitic nor Aryan races can I find, in the authorities at my command, that any demoniacal power has ever been attributed to the fox. No reference to the animal appears in Brand, and in Continental Europe the wolf alone figures in fairy tales as the dangerous and crafty enemy of man. But we learn on the authority of Dr. Macgowan that “when the Pilgrim Fathers landed in Massachusetts, they found the Indians, especially those of Naragannset, deeply imbued with fox superstitions, many of them similar to those mentioned above.” Notices of these are found at considerable length in the works of the Rev. Mr. Elliot, known as the “Apostle of the Indians.” In Japan, again, we find fox-myths a mighty power in the State. Dr. Macgowan describes a primer—the first book put into the hands of Japanese children; it was profusely illustrated with wood-cuts, in which was depicted in full detail the progress of the Fox’s courtship. Thus, even in the education of childhood, the fox-myth weaves itself into the texture of Japanese thought. The fox was understood to be most mischievously inclined, and was especially mischievous in its domestic relations. It was believed, in Japan, to be no uncommon incident for a fox to transform itself [96]into a charming young woman, who got married to some loving Japanese swain and had a family. By-and-bye something went awry in the domestic experiences, on which the mischievous fox-elf resumed her foxhood, and all her progeny did the same, and scampered off to their homes in dead men’s tombs, leaving the late happy husband and father desolate and wretched. A recent newspaper paragraph, by the way, describes a murder committed at Chikuzen in which the murderer was discovered to be insane. Different members of his family, for three generations back, had gone mad, it was said, in consequence of one of their ancestors having injured a fox!—So much for the fox, thus summarily dismissed inasmuch as other writers have dealt so fully with his alleged powers.

Leaving the animal, for the mineral, world we note that even stones possess the reputation of being inhabited by spirits. A well-known Taoist legend relates that Chang Liang, a counsellor of the founder of the Han dynasty, derived his knowledge from a sage who was eventually metamorphosed into a yellow stone. Another legend tells how one of the immortals kept a flock of sheep who were changed to stone, but reassumed their proper shape at a word from their shepherd. Mr. W. F. Mayers, in his article on Canton in the Treaty Ports of China and Japan, thus describes the Legend from which Canton derives its soubriquet of the “City of Rams”:—“In the temple of the ‘Five Genii’ were until lately the stone images of five (supernatural) rams, but these latter were destroyed in a conflagration which consumed the rear building in which they stood some three years since. The legend with reference to the foundation of this temple is that, some twenty centuries ago, five shepherds were seen on the site where the building now stands, who suddenly became transformed into an equal number of rams, while these again instantly changed into stone, a voice being heard at the same time proclaiming that, so long as these supernatural objects should be worshipped on this spot, the prosperity of the adjoining city should endure. From that day forward (runs the story) these images have remained on the identical spot, and it is certain that from time immemorial they have been looked upon with superstitious reverence, nor is it the less remarkable that the destruction of their shrine should coincide so closely with the actual decline in the prosperity of the city. The stones were almost shapeless blocks of granite, about eighteen inches high and the same in length, with some rude attempt at sculpture in the form of a ram’s head. From them and their attendant legend Canton derived its soubriquet of the City of Rams (羊城), but the legend itself is traced by Chinese philosophers to an accidental resemblance between the word signifying ‘ram’ or ‘sheep’ and the ancient designation of the province of Kwangtung. This is a striking corroboration of Professor Müller’s dictum that all myths are merely amplifications of some forgotten sound.”

A popular superstition recounts that in Lʻien-chow, in the province of Kwang-si, when any person walking, happens to hit his foot against a stone, and afterwards falls sick, his family immediately prepares an offering of fruit, wine, rice and incense; and proceeding to the spot, bow down and worship, after which the person gets well. They imagine that the stone is possessed by a demon. Gamblers frequently pray to stones thus possessed for “luck.” [97]