“The Earth God and the Fox”—Miyazawa Kenji (1896-1933)

土神と狐 (“Tsuchigami to kitsune”) tells the story of an earth god who lives in rags, a fox who wears custom, and their rivalry, at least in their own minds, for the affections of a birch tree. Like much of Miyazawa’s fiction, it is a children’s story but has allegorical resonances relating to Miyazawa’s religious and sociocultural beliefs. In this case the usual reading is that the story sees Miyazawa working out his thoughts on indigenous culture and Western-dominated global culture, in the context of Japan’s own partial Westernization. The indigenous culture violently expunges the globalized Western-dominated culture, but it is not actually right to do so because Western culture has values and traditions and a worthwhileness of its own, even if it has a tendency to traipse about where it's not wanted. Commentators on Miyazawa often conclude that his implicit pro-Western stance was developed as a repudiation of an earlier stance that was strongly nationalist and imperialist, hence the allegorical criticism of indigenist attitudes seen in this story.

The Earth God and the Fox

1.

At the northern end of the Single-Tree Field, there was a slight rise in the ground. The raised area was full of wild boar, and in the middle was a lovely woman—a birch tree. She wasn’t very big, but she had a gleaming dark bole, winsomely spread-out branches, white flowers that bloomed like clouds in May, and leaves that fell in golds and crimsons in autumn.

            Therefore wandering birds would perch in the tree—cuckoos, shrikes, wrens, white-eyes. When a bold young hawk or the like would hie into view, the smaller birds would see it from afar and steer clear.

            This tree had two friends. One was an earth god who lived in a plashy fen just about five hundred strides away; one was a fox with tea-brown fur who always came from the south side of the field.

            If she had had to choose, the birch tree would have said that she liked the fox more. The reason for this was that, although the earth god had the name and title of a deity, he was extremely rowdy, his hair looked like a worn-out bunch of cotton thread, his eyes were reddish, his kimono was so tattered it looked like it was made of kelp, he always went barefoot, and his nails were long and black. The fox, on the other hand, cut a refined figure and seldom gave anyone any reason for anger or hard feelings.

            However, if one were to directly compare the two, the earth god might have come across as frank and aboveboard, the fox as a slightly suspect character.

2.

It was an evening in early summer. The birch was replete with soft new leaves and a good smell was all around; in the sky the Milky Way was pale and the wandering stars wavered and swayed, twinkling in and out.

            The fox went to relax under the tree, carrying a poetry collection. He wore a tailored blue business suit and squeaky red leather shoes.

            “Such a quiet evening.”

            “Yeah,” the birch replied softly.

            “The Scorpion Star is creeping along up there, see? The big red one; in China they used to call it just ‘fire.’”

            “Is it different from Mars?”

            “Totally different from Mars, yes. Mars is a planet whereas this one is a nice fine star.”

            “What makes a planet different from a star?”

            “It’s a planet if it doesn’t shine with its own light. In other words, it only looks like it shines when it reflects light coming from somewhere else. It’s a star if it’s one that does shine with its own light. The sun is, of course, a star, right? It’s huge, dazzling, but if you look at it from an enormous distance you can see that, after all, it looks like a small star.”

            “So the sun is one of the stars, huh? Well, when you look at it like that, there are any number of suns in the sky. It’s strange to think, isn’t it? There are the stars, and yet oh, look! They’re suns!”

            The fox laughed indulgently. “Yes. Neat, isn’t it?”

            “Why are there red, yellow, and green ones amongst the stars?”

            The fox laughed indulgently again and crossed his arms high on his chest. The poetry collection fluttered in the air, but did not even come close to falling from his paws.

            “Is there a reason why there are different colors, citrusy colors and blues and so forth, in the stars? Of course there is. In the beginning all the stars were just an indistinct cloud. Now, though, there’s so much in the sky. For example, Andromeda, Orion, Canes Venatici…all up there. Canes Venatici has something in it called the Whirlpool Galaxy. Then there’s the Ring Nebula, which is also known as the Fish Mouth Nebula because it looks like a fish’s mouth. There are many different things in the sky today.”

            “Well, I would love to see some of it some day. How fine it must be to see a star shaped like a fish’s mouth!”

            “Yes, very fine. I saw it at the Misuzawa Observatory,” the fox said.

            “Well, I’d love to see it too.”

            “Let me show it to you. I’ve actually ordered a telescope from the Zeiss company, in Germany. It’ll be here by next spring, so why don’t I show you as soon as it arrives?”

            The fox said so without thinking. Immediately he thought Ah, so now I’ve also lied to my only friend. What a no-good jerk I am. Yet I didn’t say so maliciously. I wanted to say something to make her happy. I’ll clear things up later. The fox sat thinking in silence for a while. The birch tree, unaware that he had lied about the telescope, was overjoyed and said “Well, I’m glad of that. You’re always so kind.”

            The fox answered, not in very high spirits, “Yes, and I’d be happy to do pretty much anything else for you as well. Won’t you look over this poetry collection? It’s by a person called Heine. It’s a translation, but a pretty good one.”

            “Well, might I borrow it?”

            “Go ahead. Please take your time looking over it. –Excuse me, but I think there was something I’d been meaning to say.”

            “It was about the color of the stars, right?”

            “Yes, that’s it. Let’s save that for next time I see you, though. I don’t want to intrude on you for too long.”

            “Of course. That’s all right.”

            “I’ll come again, so fare thee well for now. Here’s the book. Goodbye.”

            The fox hurried on home. The birch tree, rustling her leaves in the south wind that was soughing through her just then, picked up the poetry collection that the fox had left and began turning its pages by the faint light of the Milky Way and the trembling stars in the sky. That Heine collection was replete with beautiful poems, “Die Loreley” and others. And so the birch tree read the whole night through. It was past three o’ clock when she dozed off, with Taurus rising in the east.

            The night ended. The sun rose.

            Dew gleamed on the grass and the blooming flowers were out in full force.

            From the northeast the earth god came slowly, drenched in morning sunlight as if in a bath of molten copper. He came slowly, prudently, arms folded.

            The birch tree felt vaguely concerned but still turned to meet the earth god, her green leaves glistening. Her shadow on the grass swayed to and fro, to and fro, moment to moment. The earth god came up to the birch tree quietly and stood in front of her.

            “Birch tree. Morning.”

            “Good morning to you as well.”

            “You know, no matter how much I think about ‘em, there’s many things I don’t understand. Aye, quite a number of things I don’t understand.”

            “Well, what sorts of things do you mean?”

            “Take this example—this here grass grows from this black soil, but then, why does it come up so green? Blue almost. There are even yellow flowers blooming, white flowers blooming. I just can’t figure it.”

            “Isn’t it because the grass’s seeds have the blues and the whites in them?”

            “Yes. Well, that being the case, I still don’t get it. For another example, mushrooms in the autumn don’t have seeds; they just come right up out of the soil, don’t they? But they come up all colors too, reds, yellows…I just don’t get it.”

            “Why not ask the fox and see what he has to say?”

            The birch tree could not help but suggest this, so rapt had she been at last night’s stories of the stars.

            Hearing these words, the color of the earth god’s face suddenly changed. He clenched his fists.

            “What? The fox? What did the fox say?”

            The birch tree’s voice became flustered.

            “It isn’t that he said anything particularly noteworthy. That is to say, you have known him for some time, have you not?”

            “What’s there for a fox to teach to a god, then?”

            The birch tree, already most out of sorts, swayed to and fro, to and fro, in a huff. The earth god ground his teeth and stormed around the place. His pitch-black shadow fell on the grass, and the grass, too, quaked with fear.

            “People like the fox are a plague on this world. They’re grudge-holding, cowardly, underhanded liars. They’re wrong ones, the stupid animals.”

            The birch composed herself and said “It’s almost time for your festival, is it not?”

            The earth god’s livid face settled a little. “Aye. Today’s already May 3, so six more days to go.”

            The birch tree became flustered again; the earth god thought for a while, then, in another sudden outburst, said “However, human beings are an insolent lot. They don’t bring so much as a single offering to my festival these days. Next time the first one of them to set foot on my turf I swear I’ll drag down into the mud.” The earth god ground his teeth again.

            The birch tree had gone to great lengths to calm him down, and now that he was in this state again she did not know what else she could do. She just swayed and rocked her leaves in the wind. The earth god, blazing in the sunlight, crossing his arms up high, wandered about. He found that no matter how much he thought about matters they kept galling him. Finally he could not take it any more and he stormed back to his own fen with a beastlike roar.

3.

The place where the earth god lived was about the size of a small racetrack. It was a chilly wetland full of mossy things, grass, stunted reeds, and here and there thistles and low, twisted willows.

            There was something unwholesome about the water; iron that had leached into it kept bubbling up redly to the surface, making it cloudy and disquieting to look at. In the middle of it, in a relatively solid bit like a little island, stood the earth god’s shrine—small, only about six feet high, and made of unsawn logs.

            The earth god returned to his island and sprawled out next to the shrine. He scratched his dark, skin-and-bone legs. He saw a bird fly right over his head, sat up abruptly, and shouted “Shush!” The bird, startled, almost came tumbling out of the sky; it fell lower and lower, as if stunned, then flew off.

            The earth god chuckled and stood up. However, when he looked over to the hill where the birch stood, his face colored and he stood ramrod-straight. Then with both hands he ruffled his hair as if a tempestuous wind was passing through.

            At that time a lone woodcutter came towards the fen from the south. He was on his way to Mount Mitsumori to earn his living, and he took long strides along the narrow path that skirted the fen. Yet it seemed he was aware of the earth god, and sometimes he looked at the shrine with a sense of recognition. The earth god’s own form, however, he could not see.

            Seeing him, the earth god was delighted, his face now flushed with joy. He stretched out his right hand towards him and, left hand bracing against right wrist, dragged him towards him. The woodcutter, strangely enough, although he thought that he was still proceeding along the path, found himself gradually walking into the fen. He was astonished. The woodcutter started walking faster, his face went pale, and he began to gape for air. The earth god slowly turned his right wrist all the way around. The woodcutter began to walk in circles, covering the same ground over and over, gasping with fear. It seemed he was trying to escape from the fen as quickly as possible, but no matter what he did he just kept going around and around the same spot. Finally the woodcutter broke down crying. He threw up his hands and ran. The earth god, lying down, kept grinning happily at the sight. Before long the woodcutter, lightheaded with exhaustion, splashed down into the water. The earth god slowly rose to his feet. He lurched over and hurled the collapsed woodcutter into a patch of grass. The woodcutter thudded down into the grass. He moved slightly, groaning, but the earth god took no notice just then.

            The earth god laughed loudly. His voice became an ominous wave and rose into the sky.

            That voice that had risen to the sky soon rebounded and rustled back down to where the birch tree was. The birch tree suddenly blanched and trembled in the sunlight.

            The earth god brooded, yanking at his hair fretfully with both hands. First and foremost the reason no one cares about me is on account of that fox. No, the birch tree more so. No, the fox and the birth tree. But I’ve no quarrel with the birch tree. I’d endure a lot of heartbreak so as not to offend the birch tree. If I needn’t be concerned for the birch tree then all the more I needn’t be concerned for the fox. I’m a low-down brute but, after all, I’m still a god. It’s a deplorable thing that I need to worry about things like foxes. Even so I can’t help being concerned. I’d do well to put the birch tree out of mind but I just can’t get her out of my head. This morning I was pale and shuddering and I’ll never forget how fine it all was. I’m in such a foul temper I tormented that poor human. It can’t be helped, though; no one really knows what to do when they’re that out of sorts.

            The earth god, suffocating in misery, thrashed around on the ground. Another hawk soared through the sky overhead, but this time he watched it without saying anything.

            Far off in the distance sounded the claps of firing guns, crackling like breaking rock salt, perhaps for some cavalry exercise. Blue light gushed down over the field from the sky. Maybe because he was somehow drinking up the light, the woodcutter who had been thrown into the grass finally came to. He picked himself up to his feet and looked around.

            Then all at once he stood up and hightailed it away, making his way at top speed towards Mount Mitsumori.

            The earth god saw this and laughed loudly again. Once again the sound of his voice traveling through the blue sky rustled down to where the birch tree was. The birch tree once again colored in her leaves and shook them too minutely to be seen.

            The earth god seemed finally to calm down after pacing over and over and over and over around his shrine. He disappeared into the shrine, as if his form had melted away in a thaw.

4.

It was an August evening of deep fog. The earth god was too lonely for words, and could not help but leave his little shrine in an ill humor. Before he knew it he found his feet taking him towards the birch tree. He had been finding for some reason that his heart throbbed in his chest whenever he thought about the birch tree. It was incredibly trying for him. Thus he was trying his best not to let his thoughts and feelings turn to the fox, the birch tree, or any other such subject, but he simply could not help thinking about them. Day after day, he kept brooding on it. Aren’t I still a god? Of what importance to me is this one birch tree? Even so he could not help his sadness. Especially when he thought even for a moment about the fox, it was so painful that he felt as if his body would burn up.

            The earth god, deep in thought about many things, slowly came closer to the birch tree. At last he realized that he was walking right up to the birch. Then suddenly his feelings began to dance. Since he had not been there for quite some time, the thought occurred to the earth god that perhaps he had kept the birch tree waiting. He felt strongly that if this was so then it was a crying shame. He took long strides up to her, treading on the grass and feeling his heart dance in his chest. Yet eventually even his strong legs began to quaver, and the earth god had to simply stand there, as if pale blue sadness was pouring from his head. The fox was coming. Night had already fallen, but the fox’s voice could be heard through the still mist, lit indistinctly by the moon.

            “Yes yes, naturally. Something isn’t beautiful just because it follows some mechanistic law of symmetry. That’s dead beauty.”

            “That is exactly so!” the birch’s soft voice replied.

            “Real beauty is nothing like some fixed, fossilized model. Even if something complies with the laws of symmetry, one still hopes that it has the spirit of symmetry.”

            “Yes, I think that’s exactly right,” said the birch’s kindly voice again. The earth god now felt as if his body was blazing with a chattering peach-pink flame. His breath came quick and painful. What is it that’s making me so miserable? It’s just a short conversation between a birch tree and a fox in a field. To let my heart be troubled by something like that…and aren’t I a god? the earth god upbraided himself.

            “So,” the fox went on, “in any book on aesthetics, there’s some discussion of this issue to be found.”

            “Have you many books on aesthetics?” the birch tree asked.

            “Oh yes. There’s nothing better. Right now, though, they’re mostly available in Japanese, English, or German; there seem to be new Italian ones too, but they haven’t arrived yet.”

            “How fine must your study be.”

            “Not really; they’re all a bit scattered about, since I use it as a laboratory too. A microscope in the corner, the Times of London here, marbles and marble scissors rolling around there—it’s a mess.”

            “Well, it’s fine even so; I think that sounds really fine.”

            There was a sound of breath, like the fox’s humility or pride, then a span of silence.

            The earth god could no longer stand still. When he heard what the fox was saying, he realized that the fox really was more eminent than he. He could not longer tell himself aren’t I a god? aren’t I a god? It was so painful, so painful; couldn’t he just dash out and rend the fox in pieces? But it wouldn’t do even to dream about that; wouldn’t he eventually get outstripped by the fox even then? What in the world am I supposed to do? the earth god agonized as he tore at his chest.

            “That telescope that was supposed to be here someday hasn’t arrived yet,” the birch tree observed by and by.

            “Right, yes, it was supposed to get here eventually, wasn’t it? It’s not here yet. It’s not even close. There is a lot of upheaval with the sea lanes from Europe, you know? I’ll bring it and show you the minute it arrives. The rings of Saturn are so beautiful, you know.”

            The earth god slammed his hands over his ears and ran off northward at speed. He had started to be afraid of what he might do if he just kept silent.

            He kept running at full tilt. It was at the foot of Mount Mitsumori that he flopped to the ground, his lungs unable to take any more.

            The earth god tore at his hair and thrashed around in the grass. Then he bawled. In no time at all that voice rose to the sky and could be heard even all over the fields. The earth god cried and cried to the point of exhaustion, then returned vacantly to his little shrine.

5.

Autumn came to the field. The birch tree was still green, but the spike-eared grasses around her had already reared their golden heads, and here and there the ripe red berries of lilies-of-the-valley glowed in the wind.

            On one bright clear golden autumn day, the earth god was in an exceedingly good mood. All of the hurt feelings from the summer seemed to everyone to have turned into something like a fine haze, settling into a ring over one’s head. Now that his strangely nasty disposition was gone, the earth god thought that if the birch tree wanted to talk to the fox, that was fine, go ahead and talk to him; it would be a very good thing if they were to just talk to each other happily. The earth god lightheartedly walked up to the birch tree, thinking that he wanted to tell her so today.

            The birch tree saw him coming from afar. And she waited for him trembling with concern.

            The earth god went over and greeted her lightly.

            “Miss Birch Tree. Morning. Fine weather, isn’t it?”

            “Good morning to you as well. Yes, it’s a beautiful day.”

            “I’m grateful,” the earth god said, “for the way the heavens go. Red springs, white summers, yellow autumns, autumn turns yellow and the grapes turn purple. I’m truly grateful.”

            “Goodness gracious.”

            “I’m in a really good mood today. I’ve had a hard time of it since the summer, but this morning I woke up and things just felt lighter.”

            The birch tree tried to reply, but for whatever reason the situation felt so awkward that she couldn’t think of anything to say.

            “Now I’d even give my life for anyone. If a little earthworm had to die, I’d change places with it.” The earth god looked off into the distant blue sky as he spoke. His eyes too were pitch-black and splendid.

            Once more the birch tree tried to reply, but the situation was still so awkward that all she could do was sigh.

            That was the point at which the fox arrived.

            The fox’s face suddenly colored when he saw the earth god. Yet he couldn’t just leave, so he came up to the birch tree, trembling a little.

            “Miss Birch Tree, good morning. And you there are the earth god, correct?” the fox said, wearing his red leather shoes, a tawny-colored raincoat, and an increasingly unseasonable hat.

            “Yep. I’m the earth god. Nice day out, no?” The earth god said so with a truly bright heart.

            The fox addressed the birch tree, his face going pale with jealousy. “Excuse me for bothering you while you’re entertaining a guest. Here is the book I promised you. So, then, let’s look through the telescope some clear evening. Goodbye.”

            “Well, thank you very much,” said the birch tree. The fox, meanwhile, did not take his leave of the earth god and began to hurry back home. The birch tree blanched and once more shivered slightly.

            The earth god just stood there absentmindedly for a while seeing the fox off, but then suddenly he was startled by the gleam of the fox’s red shoes where the light hit them in the grass. Just when I thought I’d returned to my senses, the earth god thought, my head is spinning. The fox strode away, setting his shoulders stubbornly. The earth god fumed with an inexorable anger. His face turned a terrifying black. “Let’s see what you can do with your aesthetics book and your telescope, you S.O.B.!” he roared as he ran after the fox.

            The birch tree’s branches shook in a panic, and the fox glanced offhandedly behind him to see if anything was troubling her, only to see the earth god, dark of countenance, chasing after him like a thunderhead. The fox snarled, bared his fangs, and took off like the wind.

            The earth god felt as if the grass all over the field was blazing with a pure white fire. Even the bright blue sky had suddenly become a pitch-dark hole, and he thought he could hear red flames roaring at the bottom.

            The two of them roared and dashed like a steam train.

            I’m done for, I’m done for, telescope, telescope, telescope…

            The fox ran as if in a dream, thinking these thoughts in the depths of his mind.

            Over yonder was a small scab-red hill. The fox whirled around its base to get to the hole that went down to his den underneath it. He lowered his head and tried to leap down inside to safety, but when he lifted his hind legs, the earth god was already leaping at him from behind. By the time the fox was able to think about what was happening, he was already having his body wrung by the earth god. Pursing his lips and laughing a little, he hung his head over the earth god’s hand.

            Suddenly the earth god threw the fox to the ground and stamped on him four or five times.

            Then the earth god dashed down into the fox’s den. The inside was empty and dark as a monastery, nothing but neatly compacted red clay.

            The earth god, gaping wide, came back out with a queasy feeling. He put his hand in the pocket of the raincoat on the fox’s limp corpse. In the pocket were two ears of light brown cock’s-foot grass. The earth god, his mouth still wide open, burst inconsolably into tears.

            His tears fell on the fox like rain, and the fox was dead, his neck twisted and broken, a faint smile on his face.