By the time the festival of Pai-shan came--the day when all go to
worship at the graves of their ancestors--Tuen had already commenced to
struggle with the queer, sprawling hieroglyphics that fill the Chinese
books, and she was so proud and happy that she could think of nothing
else. The Viceroy was going in state to honor his forefathers, riding in
his sedan, and followed by a long retinue of servants, and Tuen, Wang
and Ta-ta had been allowed, as a special favor, to join this procession.
As they left the yâmen Tuen was telling them of the wonderful characters
she was trying to understand, and of the delight of learning about them,
and Ta-ta laughed good-naturedly.
"It was very silly of you to beg such a favor of the Viceroy," she
said. "Who ever heard of a woman who could read, or who even wanted to?
Why did you not ask him for a silk dress, or for a pair of gold
ear-rings? That would have been much more sensible."
"I didn't want anything in the world but to be learned like a man," Tuen
announced, "and I will be too, even if I am a woman"; and she set her
lips firmly together.
"I never knew of a girl being allowed to study before," Wang said. "The
Viceroy is truly a wonderful man."
"Women are not born to be happy any where," Ta-ta remarked. "Tuen will
find that out some day."
"Well, the consolation is that we don't have to be women always," Wang
said philosophically. "Buddha said that we who, while on earth, were
obedient to our husband and his relatives, would some day come back to
earth a man. That is something to look forward to. Yesterday I went to
the temple and carried the money I had saved and gave it to the priest,
that he might pay the toll for me at the bridge that leads to the
spirit-land; and I also gave him the fee for the ferryman, and a lot of
cash for that greedy one that rows the dragon-boat across the lake of
blood. Now I have nothing to fear."
"No, you can kill yourself any day," Ta-ta whispered enviously.
While they talked they were making their way through the babbling throng
that filled the streets, and as they were but seldom allowed to leave
the Viceroy's residence they were looking about them with the keenest
pleasure. Hanging from the low tiled roofs of the houses were branches
of willow, the mourning tree of the dead, and a vast concourse of people
in holiday attire were either going or returning from the "worship at
the hills"; for on this day all the population steal a few hours from
the daily routine of drudgery, and go to render homage to the spirits of
their dead. Their gods were shadowy and unreal, perhaps had no existence
save in the imagination of the priests, but their own dear ones they
knew lived and went away. Why might not their souls, wandering in the
unknown, look back to earth and listen to the prayers of mortals? So
they reasoned, and this was why that on this sunny spring day the hills
where the dead slept were thronged with the living. An endless
procession passed in and out of the gates of the city, the square
battlements and watch-towers were deserted, and upon the great stone
bridge that spanned the water, the throng surged ever backward and
forward. Little groups were gathered around many of the graves, busily
sweeping and repairing them; the smoke of incense curled upward on
every side, and prayers arose, not for the repose of the dead, but for
the welfare of the living; while strips of gay paper fluttering around
some of the headstones told that here the usual rites had been performed
and the family had gone home to enjoy the social feast with which the
holiday closes. Before one of the tombs, far more pretentious than any
of its neighbors, the Viceroy stopped and alighted from his sedan.
His forefather had evidently been some high mandarin, for a stone wall
surrounded a large, horse-shoe shaped enclosure, and in this teeming
land, where earth was so precious that only a little portion could be
allotted to a few of the living, it was a sign of great wealth to have
so much space for an ancestor. Standing at the entrance to this grave
were two stone horses, saddled and bridled, ready to bear the spirit on
its journey in the other world, and a little distance away two rudely
sculptured lions kept watch over the tomb. At the end of the enclosure
and opposite the entrance, was the tablet bearing the name of the
departed, and before this the Viceroy knelt down. First he offered the
five-fold sacrifice, consisting of a fowl, a fish, a pig, a bird, and a
goose, with many prostrations and petitions, then he placed before the
tablet five plates filled with fruit, and five cups of wine. This done,
he lit the incense sticks, and knocking his head nine times upon the
ground, prayed for the three great blessings,--riches, honor, and long
life. Rising, he fastened long streamers of red and white paper at the
back of the wall, holding it in place by the customary three pieces of
turf, and again entered his sedan. His servants meanwhile carefully
packed the offerings of fruit, meats, and wine in the baskets to take
home, for they were far too frugal to permit such things to go to
waste, and that very night these same provisions would be served at the
Viceroy's table.
As the high magistrate and his attendants wended their way home, Ta-ta
who had been quiet for some time, turned to Tuen with a friendly piece
of advice.
"You had better put all this nonsense about books, and being learned
like a man, out of your little head, else no man will want to marry you,
and you must remember that you are getting old enough now to think about
having a mother-in-law."
"I don't want one ever," Tuen declared. "I would much rather just belong
to the Viceroy always."
"How stupid you are," Ta-ta said impatiently. "Of course you must be
sold to someone. I never knew a woman over fifteen who did not have a
mother-in-law."
But Tuen cried pleadingly to Wang:
"Oh, don't let them sell me again. Indeed, indeed, I don't want to have
any other master."
"I am afraid someone will see you and want to marry you, and if they
offer him a good price the Viceroy will not be a fool and refuse it,"
Wang said sadly. "You are getting to be a woman now, and you are good to
look at, and for that reason someone is sure to want you."
This prospect filled Tuen with dismay, and that night she cried herself
to sleep.