NOW Lao Ng Tau was a civil mandarin of the second grade, of a noble
ancestry, considerable learning, and in addition he was tao-tai of Sung
Ying Fu and the surrounding district—which means that he possessed, or
held the power of acquiring to himself, no inconsiderable wealth. He was
a travelled man, moreover, and one possessing a broad mind, and not over
hide-bound with conservative Chinese prejudice. On one of his visits to
the great capital, Peking, he had contracted a marriage with the
beautiful Mah Su. Of the magnificent and costly presents he had
presented to her honourable parents we will not speak, nor of the superb
gifts that he had also received, or of the completely perfect manner in
which the etiquette of their marriage ceremony had been conducted. Poems
were written by seventy-eight poets, many of whom were held in
considerable honour in the capital. Many of these poems can possibly be
purchased in Peking to this day, so it is not necessary for us to enter
into details of the rejoicings on this auspicious occasion. Eighteen
artists of undoubted skill and pre-eminence had been engaged to portray
the dazzling brilliance of the marriage cortège, but they all declared
that the sun-like effulgence of the scene had completely blinded their
ill-conditioned and degenerate eyes to such an extent that they were
quite unable to depict any portion of the picture with the degraded and
low-class pigments at their disposal. When justice and due reward had
been meted out to the poets, painters, and musicians with bowstring, hot
oil, and bamboo rods, according as their several productions merited;
the honourable Lao Ng Tau journeyed with befitting escort to Sung Ying
Fu with the beautiful Mah Su as his wife.
Mah Su was a Manchu lady, and in addition to considerable beauty of face
possessed a remarkable vivacity and cheerfulness, and had not had her
feet bound in her childhood. Lao Ng Tau loved his wife dearly, was
charmed with her wit and accomplishments; and she was no less pleased
with her husband, and the presents of pearls, gold, and jade that he
lavished upon her. So for two years these two lived in the greatest
serenity at Sung Ying Fu. Mah Su’s lips were the reddest and her teeth
the whitest in the world, and these latter were shown to remarkable
advantage when biting some sweetmeat or fruit at the same time as she
chattered and laughed with her husband. She possessed a very marked
penchant for nectarines, and having eaten about half a coolie-load of
these one day, she was taken ill towards nightfall with severe pains
near the lower edge of her embroidered jacket. Her husband was
distracted at the sight of his incomparable wife rolling from side to
side on her honourable bed, and occasionally assuming distressingly
inelegant attitudes when a more excruciating twinge caused her for an
instant to forget the refined deportment so necessary in the wife of a
mandarin of Lao Ng Tau’s importance. The greatly and properly distressed
husband saw at once the necessity of consulting a doctor, but his
honourable mind was undecided whether to summon the foreign missionary
doctor or the wise and justly reverenced Wing Fung.
In earlier days Lao Ng Tau had resided in Hankow, and there had made
great friends with an Englishman, of whose education and knowledge of
the world he held a very high opinion. When the question of foreign
missionaries arose in Lao’s mind, he would always recall the words of
his old friend that “missionaries frequently did as much good as harm.”
This thought rather inclined his acute mind towards the seeking of
advice from the missionary doctor in Sung Ying Fu, but then, what of the
renowned Wing Fung? When the cholera attacked the city of Sung Ying, was
it not Wing Fung who lit small fires on the stomachs of those affected,
had he not even done so to the meanest and most degraded of his
patients, even supplying the firewood from his own store in some cases?
Then, again, had he not cured the honourable Ah Wong of a most
distressing and undignified skin disease by administering pills
cunningly concocted of crabs’ eyes? Had not the noble Phat Cheong been
relieved of an aggravating sprained ankle by rest and the occasional
swallowing of live lob-worms soaked in honey? Again, had not the
honourable wife of Sung Yee Hoy been restored to health after a careful
diet of the thumb nails of the bald-faced monkey? Taking all things into
consideration, Lao decided on employing the renowned and careful Wing
Fung on this soul-moving and entirely discomposing occasion. Herein he
was ill-advised, for had he consulted the missionary doctor he would at
the least have secured a correct diagnosis, for the beautiful Mah Su lay
in great agony, a high fever, and in an inelegant attitude, with her
right leg drawn up. To be accurate, the peerless Mah Su suffered from an
acute attack of that, to Western ideas, fashionable complaint,
appendicitis.
Thus the erudite Wing Fung, he entered with many befitting and seemly
obeisances. He remarked that it ill became his own vile person to
profane the presence of the exalted wife of Lao Ng Tau, and that such
meagre knowledge of the healing art as he possessed was almost rendered
void by the august impressions created on his dull intellect by the
evidences of supreme culture with which he found himself surrounded.
Lao listened to the doctor with impatience, and having paid a compliment
to the doctor’s knowledge of the classics with which his speech had been
liberally sprinkled, begged him to see his wife and prescribe whatever
might alleviate her pain.
The doctor, having adjusted a pair of brass-rimmed spectacles which
magnified about three hundred diameters, entered the room occupied by
Mah Su. Having made a lengthy examination, he returned to Lao, and
explained that there were two treatments possible. One consisted of
rushing the patient up and down the room until she broke into a violent
perspiration and then throwing ice-cold water over her, and the other
consisted in maintaining absolute quietude while the soles of her feet
were burnt with glowing charcoal. Wing Fung explained that no true
decision could be arrived at until he had carefully consulted the stars,
that this occupation would entail his own careful study during the
night, and that the cost would amount to at least six taels. Lao handed
over the six taels, and Wing Fung departed, leaving the
never-to-be-replaced Mah Su still in agony and Lao not less distressed
mentally.
The following morning Wing Fung reappeared. He stated that he had
consulted the stars, and that from their reading he had learnt that the
most honourable Mah Su had been invaded by a most pestilential rat, that
even now the rat was gnawing at her vitals, and that an additional ten
taels would enable him so to study the stars that he would discover by
what means the rat might be driven from its hiding-place in the stomach
of the most honourable wife of the gracious Lao Ng Tau.
Wing Fung received the ten taels and again departed, reappearing the
next day somewhat dishevelled. We must understand that the learned
doctor had now been some forty-eight hours without sleep—his walk was
jagged and uncertain, his speech thick, and he had an unfortunate habit
of chuckling, and hiccoughs somewhat marred his demands for fifteen more
taels to carry out his researches among the stars.
Now Lao got angry. He said that Wing Fung should conduct his researches
among the stars right there on the roof, and he also ordered a coolie to
see that the renowned Wing Fung did not doze, the coolie being supplied
with a heavy and useful bamboo rod.
Throughout the day Wing Fung was kept awake with difficulty and the
bamboo; but when the night came and the stars became visible, he almost
fell asleep in spite of the repeated blows rained on his back by the
attendant. At last Wing Fung begged to see the honourable Lao. He then
explained that he was an outside doctor, that he knew all about things
that one could see, but of the internal arrangements of humanity he was
ignorant. He begged Lao to send for a renowned doctor named Hao Suey,
who understood all such things; and having given directions as to where
Hao Suey might be found, he begged leave to go to sleep.
Lao replied that he was quite willing that Wing Fung should sleep; and
having signed to the executioner, Wing Fung slept—with his fathers.
Then Lao sent post haste for the renowned Hao Suey. So much in earnest
was he, that Hao Suey was given twenty-four blows on the feet and
brought post haste to the house of Lao in a sedan-chair carried by four
coolies.
On his arrival Hao Suey produced a bad impression by being unable to
walk, and Lao’s displeasure was evinced by ordering Hao to receive
twenty-four blows on such portion of his body that, in addition to being
unable to stand, he was now rendered unable to sit. After this
encouragement, the renowned doctor entered the presence of the
distressed Mah Su in a most reverent manner on his hands and knees, that
being the only method of locomotion of which he was capable.
Mah Su was now very ill, and the wretched doctor remained as long in her
presence as he possibly could, fearing further encouragement at the
hands of the distracted husband. At length a peremptory order from Lao
caused the doctor to painfully grovel out of the room to the mandarin’s
presence. Here the unfortunate Hao made another _faux pas_, for, being
ignorant of the fate of the learned Wing Fung, and hoping to gain a
respite and ease his battered body, he requested an advance of twenty
taels to enable him to consult the stars. Lao’s face showed nothing of
the anger boiling within him as he ordered the attendants to remove the
doctor and send the executioner in. The executioner, however, could not
be found. It appeared that after exercising his professional skill on
Wing Fung, he had gone off to the widow to present his bill and collect
the money in person for services rendered to the deceased shortly prior
to and during the latter’s last moments. The executioner’s demands
having met with more success than he had expected, he was led away by
the exuberance of his spirits to rather over-indulge in samshu, so that
on his return very late to the Yamen, his condition was such that it was
hopeless to expect him to exercise his office until he had slept off his
libations. This circumstance proved considerably fortunate for Hao Suey,
as during the night the beautiful and high-born Mah Su died.
Lao was thunderstruck at this awful catastrophe. He took no further
interest in his affairs or the affairs of his country, and after the
first numbness at his loss had worn off, he decided to write to the “Son
of Heaven,” petitioning permission to retire from office.
However, before even the ink had been rubbed upon the stone or the
rabbit-hair brush dipped in the dead-black, sweet-smelling liquid known
to barbarians as “Indian ink,” other events happened to prevent Lao from
inditing his petition to the ruler of the Middle Kingdom. In this wise:
The news of the death of the peerless Mah Su had instantly spread
through Sung Ying Fu, and had furthermore been noised through the
surrounding districts by itinerant merchants and travellers. As a result
of this, before Lao had had any time to indulge his grief, he found
dozens of poor but sympathetic relations arriving at his house with
children, coolies, luggage, mules, and much wailing and lamentation.
Lao, as befitted his station, suitably entertained and housed all, with
their servants and cattle. Aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces, cousins many
times removed, all came with their servants and hangers-on. Lao was a
rich man, and his house was large, but it soon became necessary to hire
other extra apartments for his guests. In addition to this, the house
was rendered doubly uncomfortable by the presence of numerous
professional mourners. All day and night the house was filled with the
squeaking of fiddles, crying of mourners, howling of relations’ babies,
wrangling of relations’ coolies in the courtyards, and squealing of
relations’ ponies and mules. Between looking after his unbidden guests,
arranging for suitable funeral ceremonies, and indulging his own genuine
grief at his bereavement, Lao naturally neglected his duties to the
State.
At last the heavy lacquered coffin was built, and all seemed ready for
the interment when the question of a suitable site for the grave arose.
Soothsayers were called in to assist in the decision. The wisest
soothsayers that Sung Ying Fu and district could supply were
requisitioned. They consulted the stars, ate eagerly of everything in
the house, but still failed to come to any decision. As soon as one
would find a suitable hillside, another would learn by the stars that
that particular site possessed a certain malign influence on all of the
house of Lao. These procrastinations and disappointments were admirably
borne by the aunts, cousins, cousins many times removed, and other
relations of Lao. With true Oriental self-sacrifice they all said they
were quite indifferent as to how long they stayed with the honourable
Lao, provided everything connected with the funeral was done properly
and in order. The hired mourners, soothsayers, and others who were paid
by the day, also showed an admirable fortitude under the circumstances,
the universal opinion being that no risks should be taken, but that all
should be done in order and according to the decision that would
eventually be arrived at by a due and careful study of the heavenly
omens.
These continued searchings for celestial guidance in the choice of a
burial-place, and other duties in the matter of his unbidden guests, so
occupied the distracted Lao’s mind, that many evil persons found
opportunities of practising their nefarious callings in the district
without let or hindrance from the magistrate. The tao-tai’s district
surrounding the city of Sung Ying became more and more lawless, until
the numerous bands of robbers that roamed unchecked throughout the land
became a positive scandal.
At last, to the tao-tai’s unbounded relief, a decision was arrived at by
the experts, who had eventually settled on the propitious spot for the
interment of the all-too-soon deceased Mah Su. The funeral preparations
were, therefore, hurried forward, and everything was prepared on the
most lavish and expensive scale. The relations of all degrees of
remoteness ordered the most expensive robes at Lao’s expense, and it
really seemed as if Lao’s troubles were about to end. The blue sky,
however, still held a bolt for the unfortunate tao-tai. Just as
everything was complete, one of the most learned of the soothsayers
discovered that a propitious day for the ceremony had not yet been
decided on. This terrible oversight struck everyone, except possibly
Lao, with astonishing force. The aunts, uncles, cousins, etc., were
unanimous in their praises of the astute savant who had saved them from
making what might have proved an irremediable _faux pas_. Again everyone
was resigned to waiting until the all-knowing stars should reveal their
decision.
The next crushing blow came, not from heaven, but from the Viceroy, in
the form of a letter to the tao-tai. This admirably worded screed set
forth that it having come to the ears of the most exalted Viceroy that
the country on which the honourable Lao Ng Tau held jurisdiction was in
a very disturbed state owing to the presence of certain lawless bands,
which bands plundered the subjects of the Son of Heaven, the honourable
Lao Ng Tau was herewith ordered to suppress the same and send the heads
of their leaders to Peking _pour encourager les autres_. The order
concluded with a mild suggestion that the tao-tai’s own head might
possibly adorn a spike in the Imperial city should the rebels not be
suppressed within the month.
With so much to worry him in his private affairs, Lao was nearly
distracted by this order, but as an officer of the State he realised
that private grief must give way to Imperial demands. So he hastened to
equip a military force to engage and subdue the bands of robbers which
now formed such a menace to the peace of Sung Ying Fu.
Starting with a gay band of troops, armed with banners, umbrellas,
matchlocks, singing birds in cages, and other deadly weapons affected by
the Chinese soldier, Lao proceeded against the rebels. At the first
brush with the enemy the tao-tai’s glittering rabble deserted to a man
to the opposing force. Lao, after a gallant resistance, was himself
overpowered and taken prisoner and carried by his captors to the hills.
He learnt from his captors that during his absence on this punitive
expedition his relations had held high revels in his house, and were
entertaining continuously on a lavish scale, and that the would-be
star-gazers were so continually in a state of intoxication that the
discovery of a lucky day on which to bury Mah Su was likely to be
indefinitely postponed.
The news of Lao’s capture soon reached the Viceroy, who at once informed
the Government, with the result that the vermilion pencil issued an
edict that Lao Ng Tau, late tao-tai of Sung Ying Fu, was to be beheaded,
his head to be forwarded to Peking, his property confiscated, his house
razed to the ground, and the land on which it stood to be ploughed up to
a depth of two feet, and that should his schoolmaster be still alive,
that that miserable individual should receive one hundred blows with a
bamboo. The worst punishment of all, however, was the final one, namely,
that Lao’s great-grandfather, dead some sixty years, should be degraded
from the rank of mandarin of the first to mandarin of the third class.
On receipt of this news Lao’s anger was awful, and the chief of the
robbers, choosing this opportunity to request him to become their chief
and war on Society, was at once met with a hearty acceptance.
The news of Lao’s joining the robber band was soon brought to the
Viceroy’s ears, and the latter in a short time fitted out an expedition,
headed by himself, to destroy this recalcitrant tao-tai. In the first,
second, and third engagement Lao’s rabble defeated the Viceroy’s troops
at every turn. Then the authorities at Peking adopted different tactics.
They offered Lao supreme command of Imperial troops, buttons, yellow
jackets, two-eyed peacocks’ feathers—all were offered him if he would
only come into the service of the Supreme Ruler of the Middle Kingdom.
But Lao had his own special vendetta to occupy his mind. He mistrusted
the Government after the way they had treated him, and preferred to be
an outlaw. The cousins, aunts, and very distant relations, not to
mention the soothsayers, who had so long lived at Lao’s expense, now
began to get frightened. Mah Su’s body was interred forthwith, and a
magnificent memorial archway was erected by the relations to her memory.
But unfortunately Lao still remains an outcast. He has killed nearly all
his relations and most of the soothsayers in the neighbourhood of Sung
Ying, but in spite of frequent offers from the Son of Heaven at Peking
making him General of the Imperial troops, Lao Ng Tau still remains a
bandit, because certain of his cousins yet remain alive, and moreover
there is more than one soothsayer still living in the vicinity of Sung
Ying Fu.
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