grace, that make the art of the ceramist. He had found the secret of the
_feng-hong_, the wizard flush of the Rose; of the _hoa-hong_, the
delicious incarnadine; of the mountain-green called _chan-lou_; of the
pale soft yellow termed _hiao-hoang-yeou_; and of the _hoang-kin_, which
is the blazing beauty of gold. He had found those eel-tints, those
serpent-greens, those pansy-violets, those furnace-crimsons, those
carminates and lilacs, subtle as spirit-flame, which our enamellists of
the Occident long sought without success to reproduce. But he trembled
at the task assigned him, as he returned to the toil of his studio,
saying: "How shall any miserable man render in clay the quivering of
flesh to an Idea,--the inexplicable horripilation of a Thought? Shall a
man venture to mock the magic of that Eternal Moulder by whose infinite
power a million suns are shapen more readily than one small jar might be
rounded upon my wheel?"
* * * * *
Yet the command of the Celestial and August might never be disobeyed;
and the patient workman strove with all his power to fulfil the Son of
Heaven's desire. But vainly for days, for weeks, for months, for season
after season, did he strive; vainly also he prayed unto the gods to aid
him; vainly he besought the Spirit of the Furnace, crying: "O thou
Spirit of Fire, hear me, heed me, help me! how shall I,--a miserable
man, unable to breathe into clay a living soul,--how shall I render in
this inanimate substance the aspect of flesh made to creep by the
utterance of a Word, sentient to the horripilation of a Thought?"
For the Spirit of the Furnace made strange answer to him with whispering
of fire: "_Vast thy faith, weird thy prayer! Has Thought feet, that man
may perceive the trace of its passing? Canst thou measure me the blast
of the Wind?_"
* * * * *
Nevertheless, with purpose unmoved, nine-and-forty times did Pu seek to
fulfil the Emperor's command; nine-and-forty times he strove to obey the
behest of the Son of Heaven. Vainly, alas! did he consume his substance;
vainly did he expend his strength; vainly did he exhaust his knowledge:
success smiled not upon him; and Evil visited his home, and Poverty sat
in his dwelling, and Misery shivered at his hearth.
Sometimes, when the hour of trial came, it was found that the colors had
become strangely transmuted in the firing, or had faded into ashen
pallor, or had darkened into the fuliginous hue of forest-mould. And Pu,
beholding these misfortunes, made wail to the Spirit of the Furnace,
praying: "O thou Spirit of Fire, how shall I render the likeness of
lustrous flesh, the warm glow of living color, unless thou aid me?"
And the Spirit of the Furnace mysteriously answered him with murmuring
of fire: "_Canst thou learn the art of that Infinite Enameller who hath
made beautiful the Arch of Heaven,--whose brush is Light; whose paints
are the Colors of the Evening?_"
Sometimes, again, even when the tints had not changed, after the pricked
and labored surface had seemed about to quicken in the heat, to assume
the vibratility of living skin,--even at the last hour all the labor of
the workers proved to have been wasted; for the fickle substance
rebelled against their efforts, producing only crinklings grotesque as
those upon the rind of a withered fruit, or granulations like those
upon the skin of a dead bird from which the feathers have been rudely
plucked. And Pu wept, and cried out unto the Spirit of the Furnace: "O
thou Spirit of Flame, how shall I be able to imitate the thrill of flesh
touched by a Thought, unless thou wilt vouchsafe to lend me thine aid?"
And the Spirit of the Furnace mysteriously answered him with muttering
of fire: "_Canst thou give ghost unto a stone? Canst thou thrill with a
Thought the entrails of the granite hills?_"
Sometimes it was found that all the work indeed had not failed; for the
color seemed good, and all faultless the matter of the vase appeared to
be, having neither crack nor wrinkling nor crinkling; but the pliant
softness of warm skin did not meet the eye; the flesh-tinted surface
offered only the harsh aspect and hard glimmer of metal. All their
exquisite toil to mock the pulpiness of sentient substance had left no
trace; had been brought to nought by the breath of the furnace. And Pu,
in his despair, shrieked to the Spirit of the Furnace: "O thou merciless
divinity! O thou most pitiless god!--thou whom I have worshipped with
ten thousand sacrifices!--for what fault hast thou abandoned me? for
what error hast thou forsaken me? How may I, most wretched of men! ever
render the aspect of flesh made to creep with the utterance of a Word,
sentient to the titillation of a Thought, if thou wilt not aid me?"
And the Spirit of the Furnace made answer unto him with roaring of
fire: "_Canst thou divide a Soul? Nay!... Thy life for the life of thy
work!--thy soul for the soul of thy Vase!_"
And hearing these words Pu arose with a terrible resolve swelling at his
heart, and made ready for the last and fiftieth time to fashion his work
for the oven.
One hundred times did he sift the clay and the quartz, the _kao-ling_
and the _tun_; one hundred times did he purify them in clearest water;
one hundred times with tireless hands did he knead the creamy paste,
mingling it at last with colors known only to himself. Then was the vase
shapen and reshapen, and touched and retouched by the hands of Pu, until
its blandness seemed to live, until it appeared to quiver and to
palpitate, as with vitality from within, as with the quiver of rounded
muscle undulating beneath the integument. For the hues of life were upon
it and infiltrated throughout its innermost substance, imitating the
carnation of blood-bright tissue, and the reticulated purple of the
veins; and over all was laid the envelope of sun-colored _Pe-kia-ho_,
the lucid and glossy enamel, half diaphanous, even like the substance
that it counterfeited,--the polished skin of a woman. Never since the
making of the world had any work comparable to this been wrought by the
skill of man.
Then Pu bade those who aided him that they should feed the furnace well
with wood of _tcha_; but he told his resolve unto none. Yet after the
oven began to glow, and he saw the work of his hands blossoming and
blushing in the heat, he bowed himself before the Spirit of Flame, and
murmured: "O thou Spirit and Master of Fire, I know the truth of thy
words! I know that a Soul may never be divided! Therefore my life for
the life of my work!--my soul for the soul of my Vase!"
And for nine days and for eight nights the furnaces were fed unceasingly
with wood of _tcha_; for nine days and for eight nights men watched the
wondrous vase crystallizing into being, rose-lighted by the breath of
the flame. Now upon the coming of the ninth night, Pu bade all his weary
comrades retire to, rest, for that the work was well-nigh done, and the
success assured. "If you find me not here at sunrise," he said, "fear
not to take forth the vase; for I know that the task will have been
accomplished according to the command of the August." So they departed.
But in that same ninth night Pu entered the flame, and yielded up his
ghost in the embrace of the Spirit of the Furnace, giving his life for
the life of his work,--his soul for the soul of his Vase.
And when the workmen came upon the tenth morning to take forth the
porcelain marvel, even the bones of Pu had ceased to be; but lo! the
Vase lived as they looked upon it: seeming to be flesh moved by the
utterance of a Word, creeping to the titillation of a Thought. And
whenever tapped by the finger it uttered a voice and a name,--the voice
of its maker, the name of its creator: PU.
* * * * *
And the son of Heaven, hearing of these things, and viewing the miracle
of the vase, said unto those about him: "Verily, the Impossible hath
been wrought by the strength of faith, by the force of obedience! Yet
never was it our desire that so cruel a sacrifice should have been; we
sought only to know whether the skill of the matchless artificer came
from the Divinities or from the Demons,--from heaven or from hell. Now,
indeed, we discern that Pu hath taken his place among the gods." And the
Emperor mourned exceedingly for his faithful servant. But he ordained
that godlike honors should be paid unto the spirit of the marvellous
artist, and that his memory should be revered forevermore, and that
fair statues of him should be set up in all the cities of the Celestial
Empire, and above all the toiling of the potteries, that the multitude
of workers might unceasingly call upon his name and invoke his
benediction upon their labors.
[Illustration: Chinese calligraphy]
NOTES
"_The Soul of the Great Bell._"--The story of Ko-Ngai is one of the
collection entitled _Pe-Hiao-Tou-Choue_, or "A Hundred Examples of
Filial Piety." It is very simply told by the Chinese narrator. The
scholarly French consul, P. Dabry de Thiersant, translated and published
in 1877 a portion of the book, including the legend of the Bell. His
translation is enriched with a number of Chinese drawings; and there is
a quaint little picture of Ko-Ngai leaping into the molten metal.
"_The Story of Ming-Y._"--The singular phantom-tale upon which my work
is based forms the thirty-fourth story of the famous collection
_Kin-Kou-Ki-Koan_, and was first translated under the title, "La
Bachelière du Pays de Chu," by the learned Gustave Schlegel, as an
introduction to his publication (accompanied by a French version) of
the curious and obscene _Mai-yu-lang-toú-tchen-hoa-koueï_ (Leyden,
1877), which itself forms the seventh recital of the same work.
Schlegel, Julien, Gardner, Birch, D'Entrecolles, Rémusat, Pavie,
Olyphant, Grisebach, Hervey-Saint-Denys, and others, have given the
Occidental world translations of eighteen stories from the
_Kin-Kou-Ki-Koan_; namely, Nos. 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 14, 19, 20, 26,
27, 29, 30, 31, 34, 35, and 39. The Chinese work itself dates back to
the thirteenth century; but as it forms only a collection of the most
popular tales of that epoch, many of the stories selected by the Chinese
editor may have had a much more ancient origin. There are forty tales in
the _Kin-Kou-Ki-Koan_.
"_The Legend of Tchi-Niu._"--My authority for this tale is the following
legend from the thirty-fourth chapter of the _Kan-ing-p'ien_, or "Book
of Rewards and Punishments,"--a work attributed to Lao-tseu, which
contains some four hundred anecdotes and traditions of the most curious
kind:--
Tong-yong, who lived under the Han dynasty, was reduced to a state
of extreme poverty. Having lost his father, he sold himself in
order to obtain ... the wherewithal to bury him and to build him a
tomb. The Master of Heaven took pity on him, and sent the Goddess
Tchi-Niu to him to become his wife. She wove a piece of silk for
him every day until she was able to buy his freedom, after which
she gave him a son, and went back to heaven.--_Julien's French
Translation_, p. 119.
Lest the reader should suppose, however, that I have drawn wholly upon
my own imagination for the details of the apparition, the cure, the
marriage ceremony, etc., I refer him to No. XCVI. of Giles's "Strange
Stories from a Chinese Studio," entitled, "A Supernatural Wife," in
which he will find that my narrative is at least conformable to Chinese
ideas. (This story first appeared in "Harper's Bazaar," and is
republished here by permission.)
"_The Return of Yen-Tchin-King._"--There may be an involuntary
anachronism in my version of this legend, which is very pithily
narrated in the _Kan-ing-p'ien_. No emperor's name is cited by the
homilist; and the date of the revolt seems to have been left wholly to
conjecture.--Baber, in his "Memoirs," mentions one of his Mongol archers
as able to bend a two-hundred-pound bow until the ears met.
"_The Tradition of the Tea-Plant._"--My authority for this bit of
folklore is the brief statement published by Bretschneider in the
"Chinese Recorder" for 1871:--
"A Japanese legend says that about A.D. 519, a Buddhist priest came
to China, and, in order to dedicate his soul entirely to God, he
made a vow to pass the day and night in an uninterrupted and
unbroken meditation. After many years of this continual watching,
he was at length so tired that he fell asleep. On awaking the
following morning, he was so sorry he had broken his vow that he
cut off both his eyelids and threw them upon the ground. Returning
to the same place the following day he observed that each eyelid
had become a shrub. This was the _tea-shrub_, unknown until that
time."
Bretschneider adds that the legend in question seems not to be known to
the Chinese; yet in view of the fact that Buddhism itself, with all its
marvellous legends, was received by the Japanese from China, it is
certainly probable this legend had a Chinese origin,--subsequently
disguised by Japanese chronology. My Buddhist texts were drawn from
Fernand Hû's translation of the Dhammapada, and from Leon Feer's
translation from the Thibetan of the "Sutra in Forty-two Articles." An
Orientalist who should condescend in a rare leisure-moment to glance at
my work might also discover that I had borrowed an idea or two from the
Sanscrit poet, Bhâminî-Vilâsa.
"_The Tale of the Porcelain-God._"--The good Père D'Entrecolles, who
first gave to Europe the secrets of Chinese porcelain-manufacture, wrote
one hundred and sixty years ago:--
"The Emperors of China are, during their lifetime, the most
redoubted of divinities; and they believe that nothing should ever
stand in the way of their desires....
"It is related that once upon a time a certain Emperor insisted
that some porcelains should be made for him according to a model
which he gave. It was answered that the thing was simply
impossible; but all such remonstrances only served to excite his
desire more and more.... The officers charged by the demigod to
supervise and hasten the work treated the workmen with great
harshness. The poor wretches spent all their money, took exceeding
pains, and received only blows in return. One of them, in a fit of
despair, leaped into the blazing furnace, and was instantly burnt
to ashes. But the porcelain that was being baked there at the time
came out, they say, perfectly beautiful and to the satisfaction of
the Emperor.... From that time, the unfortunate workman was
regarded as a hero; and his image was made the idol which presides
over the manufacture of porcelain."
It appears that D'Entrecolles mistook the statue of Pou't'ai, God of
Comfort, for that of the real porcelain-deity, as Jacquemart and others
observe. This error does not, however, destroy the beauty of the myth;
and there is no good reason to doubt that D'Entrecolles related it as it
had been told him by some of his Chinese friends at King-te-chin. The
researches of Stanislas Julien and others have only tended to confirm
the trustworthiness of the Catholic missionary's statements in other
respects; and both Julien and Salvétat, in their admirable French
rendering of the _King-te-chin-thao-lou_, "History of the Porcelains of
King-te-chin" (a work which has been of the greatest service to me in
the preparation of my little story), quote from his letters at
considerable length, and award him the highest praise as a conscientious
investigator. So far as I have been able to learn, D'Entrecolles remains
the sole authority for the myth; but his affirmations in regard to other
matters have withstood the severe tests of time astonishingly well; and
since the Tai-ping rebellion destroyed King-te-chin and paralyzed its
noble industry, the value of the French missionary's documents and
testimony has become widely recognized. In lieu of any other name for
the hero of the legend, I have been obliged to retain that of Pou, or
Pu,--only using it without the affix "t'ai,"--so as to distinguish it
from the deity of comfort and repose.
[Illustration: Decorative motif]
Glossary
[Illustration: Chinese calligraphy]
GLOSSARY
ABHIDHARMA.--The metaphysics of Buddhism. Buddhist literature
is classed into three great divisions, or "baskets"; the highest of
these is the Abhidharma.... According to a passage in Spence Hardy's
"Manual of Buddhism," the full comprehension of the Abhidharma is
possible only for a Buddha to acquire.
CHIH.--"House"; but especially the house of the dead,--a tomb.
CHU-SHA-KIH.--The mandarin-orange.
ÇRAMANA.--An ascetic; one who has subdued his senses. For an
interesting history of this term, see Burnouf,--"Introduction à
l'histoire du Buddhisme Indien."
DAMÂRI.--A peculiar chant, of somewhat licentious character,
most commonly sung during the period of the Indian carnival. For an
account, at once brief and entertaining, of Hindoo popular songs and
hymns, see Garcin de Tassy,--"Chants populaires de l'Inde."
DOGS OF FO.--The _Dog of Fo_ is one of those fabulous monsters
in the sculptural representation of which Chinese art has found its most
grotesque expression. It is really an exaggerated lion; and the
symbolical relation of the lion to Buddhism is well known. Statues of
these mythical animals--sometimes of a grandiose and colossal
execution--are placed in pairs before the entrances of temples, palaces,
and tombs, as tokens of honor, and as emblems of divine protection.
FO.--Buddha is called _Fo_, _Fuh_, _Fuh-tu_, _Hwut_, _Fat_, in
various Chinese dialects. The name is thought to be a corruption of the
Hindoo _Bodh_, or "Truth," due to the imperfect articulation of the
Chinese.... It is a curious fact that the Chinese Buddhist liturgy is
Sanscrit transliterated into Chinese characters, and that the priests
have lost all recollection of the antique tongue,--repeating the texts
without the least comprehension of their meaning.
FUH-YIN.--An official holding in Chinese cities a position
corresponding to that of mayor in the Occident.
FUNG-HOANG.--This allegorical bird, corresponding to the
Arabian phoenix in some respects, is described as being five cubits
high, having feathers of five different colors, and singing in five
modulations.... The female is said to sing in imperfect tones; the male
in perfect tones. The _fung-hoang_ figures largely in Chinese musical
myths and legends.
GOPIA (or GOPIS).--Daughters and wives of the cowherds
of Vrindavana, among whom Krishna was brought up after his incarnation
as the eighth avatar of Vishnu. Krishna's amours with the shepherdesses,
or Gopia, form the subject of various celebrated mystical writings,
especially the _Prem-Ságar_, or "Ocean of Love" (translated by Eastwick
and by others); and the sensuous _Gita-Govinda_ of the Bengalese lyric
poet Jayadeva (translated into French prose by Hippolyte Fauche, and
chastely rendered into English verse by Edwin Arnold in the "Indian Song
of Songs"). See also Burnouf's partial translation of the _Bhagavata
Parana_, and Théodore Pavie's "Krichna et sa doctrine." ... The same
theme has inspired some of the strangest productions of Hindoo art: for
examples, see plates 65 and 66 of Moor's "Hindoo Pantheon" (edition of
1861). For accounts of the erotic mysticism connected with the worship
of Krishna and the Gopia, the reader may also be referred to authorities
cited in Barth's "Religions of India"; De Tassy's "Chants populaires de
l'Inde"; and Lamairesse's "Poésies populaires du Sud de l'Inde."
HAO-KHIEOU-TCHOUAN.--This celebrated Chinese novel was
translated into French by M. Guillard d'Arcy in 1842, and appeared
under the title, "Hao-Khieou-Tchouan; ou, La Femme Accomplie." The first
translation of the romance into any European tongue was a Portuguese
rendering; and the English version of Percy is based upon the Portuguese
text. The work is rich in poetical quotations.
HEÏ-SONG-CHÉ-TCHOO.--"One day when the Emperor Hiuan-tsong of
the Thang dynasty," says the _Tao-kia-ping-yu-che_, "was at work in his
study, a tiny Taoist priest, no bigger than a fly, rose out of the
inkstand lying upon his table, and said to him: 'I am the Genius of ink;
my name is Heï-song-ché-tchoo [_Envoy of the Black Fir_]; and I have
come to tell you that whenever a true sage shall sit down to write, the
Twelve Divinities of Ink [_Long-pinn_] will appear upon the surface of
the ink he uses.'" See "L'Encre de Chine," by Maurice Jametel. Paris.
1882.
HOA-TCHAO.--The "Birthday of a Hundred Flowers" falls upon the
fifteenth of the second spring-moon.
JADE.--Jade, or nephrite, a variety of jasper,--called by the
Chinese _yuh_,--has always been highly valued by them as artistic
material.... In the "Book of Rewards and Punishments," there is a
curious legend to the effect that Confucius, after the completion of his
_Hiao-King_ ("Book of Filial Piety"), having addressed himself to
Heaven, a crimson rainbow fell from the sky, and changed itself at his
feet into a piece of yellow jade. See Stanislas Julien's translation, p.
495.
KABIT.--A poetical form much in favor with composers of Hindoo
religious chants: the _kabit_ always consists of four verses.
KAO-LING.--Literally, "the High Ridge," and originally the name
of a hilly range which furnished the best quality of clay to the
porcelain-makers. Subsequently the term applied by long custom to
designate the material itself became corrupted into the word now
familiar in all countries,--kaolin. In the language of the Chinese
potters, the _kaolin_, or clay, was poetically termed the "bones," and
the _tun_, or quartz, the "flesh" of the porcelain; while the prepared
bricks of the combined substances were known as _pe-tun-tse_. Both
substances, the infusible and the fusible, are productions of the same
geological formation,--decomposed feldspathic rock.
KASÍ (_or_ VARANASI).--Ancient name of Benares, the "Sacred City,"
believed to have been founded by the gods. It is also called "The
Lotos of the World." Barth terms it "the Jerusalem of all the sects
both of ancient and modern India." It still boasts two thousand
shrines, and half a million images of divinities. See also Sherring's
"Sacred City of the Hindoos."
KIANG-KOU-JIN.--Literally, the "tell-old-story-men." For a brief account
of Chinese professional story-tellers, the reader may consult Schlegel's
entertaining introduction to the _Mai-yu-lang-toú-tchen-hoa-koueï_.
KIN.--The most perfect of Chinese musical instruments, also
called "the Scholar's Lute." The word _kin_ also means "to prohibit";
and this name is said to have been given to the instrument because
music, according to Chinese belief, "_restrains evil passions, and
corrects the human heart_." See Williams's "Middle Kingdom."
KOUEI.--Kouei, musician to the Emperor Yao, must have held his
office between 2357 and 2277 B.C. The extract selected from one of his
songs, which I have given at the beginning of the "Story of Ming-Y," is
therefore more than four thousand years old. The same chant contains
another remarkable fancy, evidencing Chinese faith in musical magic:--
"When I smite my [_musical_] stone,--
Be it gently, be it strongly,--
Then do the fiercest beasts of prey leap high for joy.
And the chiefs among the public officials do agree among themselves."
KWANG-CHAU-FU.--Literally, "The Broad City,"--the name of
Canton. It is also called "The City of Genii."
LÍ.--A measure of distance. The length of the _li_ has varied
considerably in ancient and in modern times. The present is given by
Williams as ten _li_ to a league.
LI-SAO.--"The Dissipation of Grief," one of the most celebrated
Chinese poems of the classic period. It is said to have been written
about 314 B.C., by Kiu-ping-youen, minister to the King of Tsou. Finding
himself the victim of a base court-intrigue, Kiu-ping wrote the _Li-Sao_
as a vindication of his character, and as a rebuke to the malice of his
enemies, after which he committed suicide by drowning.... A fine French
translation of the _Li-Sao_ has been made by the Marquis Hervey de
Saint-Denys (Paris, 1870).
LI-SHU.--The second of the six styles of Chinese writing, for
an account of which see Williams's "Middle Kingdom." ... According to
various Taoist legends, the decrees of Heaven are recorded in the
"Seal-character," the oldest of all; and marks upon the bodies of
persons killed by lightning have been interpreted as judgments written
in it. The following extraordinary tale from the _Kan-ing-p'ien_ affords
a good example of the superstition in question:--