village was some miles from the district city, and he and his son kept
a roadside inn where travellers could pass the night. One day, as it
was getting dusk, four strangers presented themselves and asked for a
night’s lodging; to which the landlord replied that every bed was
already occupied. The four men declared it was impossible for them to
go back, and urged him to take them in somehow; and at length the
landlord said he could give them a place to sleep in if they were not
too particular,--which the strangers immediately assured him they were
not. The fact was that the old man’s daughter-in-law had just died,
and that her body was lying in the women’s quarters, waiting for the
coffin, which his son had gone away to buy. So the landlord led them
round thither, and walking in, placed a lamp on the table. At the
further end of the room lay the corpse, decked out with paper robes,
&c., in the usual way; and in the foremost section were
sleeping-couches for four people. The travellers were tired, and,
throwing themselves on the beds, were soon snoring loudly, with the
exception of one of them, who was not quite off when suddenly he heard
a creaking of the trestles on which the dead body was laid out, and,
opening his eyes, he saw by the light of the lamp in front of the
corpse that the girl was raising the coverings from her and preparing
to get down. In another moment she was on the floor and advancing
towards the sleepers. Her face was of a light yellow hue, and she had
a silk kerchief round her head; and when she reached the beds she blew
on the other three travellers, whereupon the fourth, in a great
fright, stealthily drew up the bed-clothes over his face, and held his
breath to listen. He heard her breathe on him as she had done on the
others, and then heard her go back again and get under the paper
robes, which rustled distinctly as she did so. He now put out his head
to take a peep, and saw that she was lying down as before; whereupon,
not daring to make any noise, he stretched forth his foot and kicked
his companions, who, however, shewed no signs of moving. He now
determined to put on his clothes and make a bolt for it; but he had
hardly begun to do so before he heard the creaking sound again, which
sent him back under the bed-clothes as fast as he could go. Again the
girl came to him, and breathing several times on him, went away to lie
down as before, as he could tell by the noise of the trestles. He then
put his hand very gently out of bed, and, seizing his trousers, got
quickly into them, jumped up with a bound, and rushed out of the place
as fast as his legs would carry him. The corpse, too, jumped up; but
by this time the traveller had already drawn the bolt, and was outside
the door, running along and shrieking at the top of his voice, with
the corpse following close behind. No one seemed to hear him, and he
was afraid to knock at the door of the inn for fear they should not
let him in in time; so he made for the highway to the city, and after
awhile he saw a monastery by the roadside, and, hearing the “wooden
fish,”[174] he ran up and thumped with all his might at the gate. The
priest, however, did not know what to make of it, and would not open
to him; and as the corpse was only a few yards off, he could do
nothing but run behind a tree which stood close by, and there shelter
himself, dodging to the right as the corpse dodged to the left, and so
on. This infuriated the dead girl to madness; and at length, as tired
and panting they stood watching each other on opposite sides of the
tree, the corpse made a rush forward with one arm on each side in the
hope of thus grabbing its victim. The traveller, however, fell
backwards and escaped, while the corpse remained rigidly embracing the
tree. By-and-by the priest, who had been listening from the inside,
hearing no sounds for some time, came out and found the traveller
lying senseless on the ground; whereupon he had him carried into the
monastery, and by morning they had got him round again. After giving
him a little broth to drink, he related the whole story; and then in
the early dawn they went out to examine the tree, where they found the
girl fixed tightly to the tree. The news being sent to the magistrate,
that functionary attended at once in person,[175] and gave orders to
remove the body; but this they were at first unable to do, the girl’s
fingers having penetrated into the bark so far that her nails were not
to be seen. At length they got her away, and then a messenger was
despatched to the inn, already in a state of great commotion over the
three travellers, who had been found dead in their beds. The old man
accordingly sent to fetch his daughter-in-law; and the surviving
traveller petitioned the magistrate, saying, “Four of us left home,
but only one will go back. Give me something that I may show to my
fellow-townsmen.” So the magistrate gave him a certificate and sent
him home again.[176]
FOOTNOTES:
[174] This instrument, used by Buddhist priests in the musical
accompaniment to their liturgies, is said to be so called because a
fish never closes its eyes, and is therefore a fit model of vigilance
to him who would walk in the paths of holiness and virtue.
[175] The duties of Coroner belong to the office of a District
Magistrate in China.
[176] Without such certificate he would be liable to be involved in
trouble and annoyance at the will of any unfriendly neighbour.
CVII.
THE FISHERMAN AND HIS FRIEND.
In the northern parts of Tzŭ-chou there lived a man named Hsü, a
fisherman by trade. Every night when he went to fish he would carry
some wine with him, and drink and fish by turns, always taking care to
pour out a libation on the ground, accompanied by the following
invocation:--“Drink too, ye drowned spirits of the river!” Such was his
regular custom; and it was also noticeable that, even on occasions
when the other fishermen caught nothing, he always got a full basket.
One night, as he was sitting drinking by himself, a young man suddenly
appeared and began walking up and down near him. Hsü offered him a cup
of wine, which was readily accepted, and they remained chatting
together throughout the night, Hsü meanwhile not catching a single
fish. However, just as he was giving up all hope of doing anything,
the young man rose and said he would go a little way down the stream
and beat them up towards Hsü, which he accordingly did, returning in a
few minutes and warning him to be on the look-out. Hsü now heard a
noise like that of a shoal coming up the stream, and, casting his net,
made a splendid haul,--all that he caught being over a foot in length.
Greatly delighted, he now prepared to go home, first offering his
companion a share of the fish, which the latter declined, saying that
he had often received kindnesses from Mr. Hsü, and that he would be
only too happy to help him regularly in the same manner if Mr. Hsü
would accept his assistance. The latter replied that he did not
recollect ever meeting him before, and that he should be much obliged
for any aid the young man might choose to afford him; regretting, at
the same time, his inability to make him any adequate return. He then
asked the young man his name and surname; and the young man said his
surname was Wang, adding that Hsü might address him when they met as
Wang Liu-lang, he having no other name. Thereupon they parted, and the
next day Hsü sold his fish and bought some more wine, with which he
repaired as usual to the river bank. There he found his companion
already awaiting him, and they spent the night together in precisely
the same way as the preceding one, the young man beating up the fish
for him as before. This went on for some months, until at length one
evening the young man, with many expressions of his thanks and his
regrets, told Hsü that they were about to part for ever. Much alarmed
by the melancholy tone in which his friend had communicated this news,
Hsü was on the point of asking for an explanation, when the young man
stopped him, and himself proceeded as follows:--“The friendship that
has grown up between us is truly surprising; and, now that we shall
meet no more, there is no harm in telling you the whole truth. I am a
disembodied spirit--the soul of one who was drowned in this river
when tipsy. I have been here many years, and your former success in
fishing was due to the fact that I used secretly to beat up the fish
towards you, in return for the libations you were accustomed to pour
out. To-morrow my time is up: my substitute will arrive, and I shall
be born again in the world of mortals.[177] We have but this one
evening left, and I therefore take advantage of it to express my
feelings to you.” On hearing these words, Hsü was at first very much
alarmed; however, he had grown so accustomed to his friend’s society,
that his fears soon passed away; and, filling up a goblet, he said,
with a sigh, “Liu-lang, old fellow, drink this up, and away with
melancholy. It’s hard to lose you; but I’m glad enough for your sake,
and won’t think of my own sorrow.” He then inquired of Liu-lang who
was to be his substitute; to which the latter replied, “Come to the
river-bank to-morrow afternoon and you’ll see a woman drowned: she is
the one.” Just then the village cocks began to crow, and, with tears
in their eyes, the two friends bade each other farewell.
Next day Hsü waited on the river bank to see if anything would happen,
and lo! a woman carrying a child in her arms came along. When close to
the edge of the river, she stumbled and fell into the water, managing,
however, to throw the child safely on to the bank, where it lay
kicking and sprawling and crying at the top of its voice. The woman
herself sank and rose several times, until at last she succeeded in
clutching hold of the bank and pulled herself, dripping, out; and
then, after resting awhile, she picked up the child and went on her
way. All this time Hsü had been in a great state of excitement, and
was on the point of running to help the woman out of the water; but he
remembered that she was to be the substitute of his friend, and
accordingly restrained himself from doing so.[178] Then when he saw
the woman get out by herself, he began to suspect that Liu-lang’s
words had not been fulfilled. That night he went to fish as usual,
and before long the young man arrived and said, “We meet once again:
there is no need now to speak of separation.” Hsü asked him how it was
so; to which he replied, “The woman you saw had already taken my
place, but I could not bear to hear the child cry, and I saw that my
one life would be purchased at the expense of their two lives,
wherefore I let her go, and now I cannot say when I shall have another
chance.[179] The union of our destinies may not yet be worked out.”
“Alas!” sighed Hsü, “this noble conduct of yours is enough to move God
Almighty.”
After this the two friends went on much as they had done before, until
one day Liu-lang again said he had come to bid Hsü farewell. Hsü
thought he had found another substitute, but Liu-lang told him that
his former behaviour had so pleased Almighty Heaven, that he had been
appointed guardian angel of Wu-chên, in the Chao-yüan district, and
that on the following morning he would start for his new post. “And if
you do not forget the days of our friendship,” added he, “I pray you
come and see me, in spite of the long journey.” “Truly,” replied Hsü,
“you well deserved to be made a God; but the paths of Gods and men
lie in different directions, and even if the distance were nothing,
how should I manage to meet you again?” “Don’t be afraid on that
score,” said Liu-lang, “but come;” and then he went away, and Hsü
returned home. The latter immediately began to prepare for the
journey, which caused his wife to laugh at him and say, “Supposing you
do find such a place at the end of that long journey, you won’t be
able to hold a conversation with a clay image.” Hsü, however, paid no
attention to her remarks, and travelled straight to Chao-yüan, where
he learned from the inhabitants that there really was a village called
Wu-chên, whither he forthwith proceeded and took up his abode at an
inn. He then inquired of the landlord where the village temple was; to
which the latter replied by asking him somewhat hurriedly if he was
speaking to Mr. Hsü. Hsü informed him that his name was Hsü, asking in
reply how he came to know it; whereupon the landlord further inquired
if his native place was not Tzŭ-chou. Hsü told him it was, and again
asked him how he knew all this; to which the landlord made no answer,
but rushed out of the room; and in a few moments the place was crowded
with old and young, men, women, and children, all come to visit Hsü.
They then told him that a few nights before they had seen their
guardian deity in a vision, and he had informed them that Mr. Hsü
would shortly arrive, and had bidden them to provide him with
travelling expenses, &c. Hsü was very much astonished at this, and
went off at once to the shrine, where he invoked his friend as
follows:--“Ever since we parted I have had you daily and nightly in
my thoughts; and now that I have fulfilled my promise of coming to see
you, I have to thank you for the orders you have issued to the people
of the place. As for me, I have nothing to offer you but a cup of
wine, which I pray you accept as though we were drinking together on
the river-bank.” He then burnt a quantity of paper money,[180] when
lo! a wind suddenly arose, which, after whirling round and round
behind the shrine, soon dropped, and all was still. That night Hsü
dreamed that his friend came to him, dressed in his official cap and
robes, and very different in appearance from what he used to be, and
thanked him, saying, “It is truly kind of you to visit me thus: I only
regret that my position makes me unable to meet you face to face, and
that though near we are still so far. The people here will give you a
trifle, which pray accept for my sake; and when you go away, I will
see you a short way on your journey.” A few days afterwards Hsü
prepared to start, in spite of the numerous invitations to stay which
poured in upon him from all sides; and then the inhabitants loaded him
with presents of all kinds, and escorted him out of the village. There
a whirlwind arose and accompanied him several miles, when he turned
round and invoked his friend thus:--“Liu-lang, take care of your valued
person. Do not trouble yourself to come any farther.[181] Your noble
heart will ensure happiness to this district, and there is no occasion
for me to give a word of advice to my old friend.” By-and-by the
whirlwind ceased, and the villagers, who were much astonished,
returned to their own homes. Hsü, too, travelled homewards, and being
now a man of some means, ceased to work any more as a fisherman. And
whenever he met a Chao-yüan man he would ask him about that guardian
angel, being always informed in reply that he was a most beneficent
God. Some say the place was Shih-k‘êng-chuang, in Chang-ch‘in: I can’t
say which it was myself.
FOOTNOTES:
[177] See No. XLV., note 267.
[178] We have in this story the keynote to the notorious and
much-to-be-deprecated dislike of the Chinese people to assist in
saving the lives of drowning strangers. Some of our readers may,
perhaps, not be aware that the Government of Hong-Kong has found it
necessary to insert a clause on the junk-clearances issued in that
colony, by which the junkmen are bound to assist to the utmost in
saving life. The apparent apathy of the Chinese in this respect comes
before us, however, in quite a different light when coupled with the
superstition that disembodied spirits of persons who have met a
violent death may return to the world of mortals if only fortunate
enough to secure a substitute. For among the crowd of shades, anxious
all to revisit their “sweet sons,” may perchance be some dear relative
or friend of the man who stands calmly by while another is drowning;
and it may be that to assist the drowning stranger would be to take
the longed-for chance away from one’s own kith or kin. Therefore, the
superstition-ridden Chinaman turns away, often perhaps, as in the
story before us, with feelings of pity and remorse. And yet this
belief has not prevented the establishment, especially on the river
Yang-tsze, of institutions provided with life-boats, for the express
purpose of saving life in those dangerous waters; so true is it that
when the Chinese people wish to move _en masse_ in any given
direction, the fragile barrier of superstition is trampled down and
scattered to the winds.
[179] As there are good and bad foxes, so may devils be beneficent or
malicious according to circumstances; and Chinese apologists for the
discourtesy of the term “foreign devils,” as applied to Europeans and
Americans alike, have gone so far as to declare that in this
particular instance the allusion is to the more virtuous among the
denizens of the Infernal Regions.
[180] See No. XCVII., note 150.
[181] A phrase constantly repeated, in other terms, by a guest to a
host who is politely escorting him to the door.
CVIII.
THE PRIEST’S WARNING.
A man named Chang died suddenly, and was escorted at once by
devil-lictors[182] into the presence of the King of Purgatory. His
Majesty turned to Chang’s record of good and evil, and then, in great
anger, told the lictors they had brought the wrong man, and bade them
take him back again. As they left the judgment-hall, Chang persuaded
his escort to let him have a look at Purgatory; and, accordingly, the
devils conducted him through the nine sections,[183] pointing out to
him the Knife Hill,[184] the Sword Tree, and other objects of
interest. By-and-by, they reached a place where there was a Buddhist
priest, hanging suspended in the air head downwards, by a rope through
a hole in his leg. He was shrieking with pain, and longing for death;
and when Chang approached, lo! he saw that it was his own brother. In
great distress, he asked his guides the reason of this punishment; and
they informed him that the priest was suffering thus for collecting
subscriptions on behalf of his order, and then privately squandering
the proceeds in gambling and debauchery.[185] “Nor,” added they, “will
he escape this torment unless he repents him of his misdeeds.” When
Chang came round,[186] he thought his brother was already dead, and
hurried off to the Hsing-fu monastery, to which the latter belonged.
As he went in at the door, he heard a loud shrieking; and, on
proceeding to his brother’s room, he found him laid up with a very bad
abscess in his leg, the leg itself being tied up above him to the
wall, this being, as his brother informed him, the only bearable
position in which he could lie. Chang now told him what he had seen in
Purgatory, at which the priest was so terrified, that he at once gave
up taking wine and meat,[187] and devoted himself entirely to
religious exercises. In a fortnight he was well, and was known ever
afterwards as a most exemplary priest.
FOOTNOTES:
[182] The spiritual lictors who are supposed to arrest the souls of
dying persons, are also believed to be armed with warrants signed and
sealed in due form as in the world above.
[183] Literally, the “nine dark places,” which will remind readers of
Dante of the nine “bolgie” of the _Inferno_.
[184] This is a cliff over which sinners are hurled, to alight upon
the upright points of knives below. The branches of the Sword Tree are
sharp blades which cut and hack all who pass within reach.
[185] A crime by no means unknown to the clergy of China.
[186] That is, when the lictors had returned his soul to its tenement.
[187] See No. VI., note 52.
CIX.
METEMPSYCHOSIS.
Mr. Lin, who took his master’s degree in the same year as the late Mr.
Wên Pi,[188] could remember what had happened to him in his previous
state of existence, and once told the whole story, as follows:--I was
originally of a good family, but, after leading a very dissolute life,
I died at the age of sixty-two. On being conducted into the presence
of the King of Purgatory, he received me civilly, bade me be seated,
and offered me a cup of tea. I noticed, however, that the tea in His
Majesty’s cup was clear and limpid, while that in my own was muddy,
like the lees of wine. It then flashed across me that this was the
potion which was given to all disembodied spirits to render them
oblivious of the past:[189] and, accordingly, when the King was looking
the other way, I seized the opportunity of pouring it under the table,
pretending afterwards that I had drunk it all up. My record of good
and evil was now presented for inspection, and when the King saw what
it was, he flew into a great passion, and ordered the attendant devils
to drag me away, and send me back to earth as a horse. I was
immediately seized and bound, and the devils carried me off to a
house, the door-sill of which was so high I could not step over it.
While I was trying to do so, the devils behind lashed me with all
their might, causing me such pain that I made a great spring, and--lo
and behold! I was a horse in a stable. “The mare has got a nice colt,”
I then heard a man call out; but, although I was perfectly aware of
all that was passing, I could say nothing myself. Hunger now came upon
me, and I was glad to be suckled by the mare; and by the end of four
or five years I had grown into a fine strong horse, dreadfully afraid
of the whip, and running away at the very sight of it. When my master
rode me, it was always with a saddle-cloth, and at a leisurely pace,
which was bearable enough; but when the servants mounted me
barebacked, and dug their heels into me, the pain struck into my
vitals; and at length I refused all food, and in three days I died.
Reappearing before the King of Purgatory, His Majesty was enraged to
find that I had thus tried to shirk working out my time; and, flaying
me forthwith, condemned me to go back again as a dog. And when I did
not move, the devils came behind me and lashed me until I ran away
from them into the open country, where, thinking I had better die
right off, I jumped over a cliff, and lay at the bottom unable to
move. I then saw that I was among a litter of puppies, and that an old
bitch was licking and suckling me by turns; whereby I knew that I was
once more among mortals. In this hateful form I continued for some
time, longing to kill myself, and yet fearing to incur the penalty of
shirking. At length, I purposely bit my master in the leg, and tore
him badly; whereupon he had me destroyed, and I was taken again into
the presence of the King, who was so displeased with my vicious
behaviour that he condemned me to become a snake, and shut me up in a
dark room, where I could see nothing. After a while I managed to climb
up the wall, bore a hole in the roof, and escape; and immediately I
found myself lying in the grass, a veritable snake. Then I registered
a vow that I would harm no living thing, and I lived for some years,
feeding upon berries and such like, ever remembering neither to take
my own life, nor by injuring any one to incite them to take it, but
longing all the while for the happy release, which did not come to me.
One day, as I was sleeping in the grass, I heard the noise of a
passing cart, and, on trying to get across the road out of its way, I
was caught by the wheel, and cut in two. The King was astonished to
see me back so soon, but I humbly told my story, and, in pity for the
innocent creature that loses its life, he pardoned me, and permitted
me to be born again at my appointed time as a human being.
Such was Mr. Lin’s story. He could speak as soon as he came into the
world; and could repeat anything he had once read. In the year 1621 he
took his master’s degree, and was never tired of telling people to put
saddle-cloths on their horses, and recollect that the pain of being
gripped by the knees is even worse than the lash itself.
FOOTNOTES:
[188] In A.D. 1621.
[189] According to the _Yü-li-ch‘ao_, this potion is administered by
an old beldame, named Mother Mêng, who sits upon the Terrace of
Oblivion. “Whether they swallow much or little it matters not; but
sometimes there are perverse devils who altogether refuse to drink.
Then beneath their feet sharp blades start up, and a copper tube is
forced down their throats, by which means they are compelled to
swallow some.”
CX.
THE FORTY STRINGS OF CASH.
Mr. Justice Wang had a steward, who was possessed of considerable
means. One night the latter dreamt that a man rushed in and said to
him, “To-day you must repay me those forty strings of cash.” The
steward asked who he was; to which the man made no answer, but hurried
past him into the women’s apartments. When the steward awoke, he found
that his wife had been delivered of a son; and, knowing at once that
retribution was at hand, he set aside forty strings of cash to be
spent solely in food, clothes, medicines, and so on, for the baby. By
the time the child was between three and four years old, the steward
found that of the forty strings only about seven hundred cash
remained; and when the wet-nurse, who happened to be standing by,
brought the child and dandled it in her arms before him, he looked at
it and said, “The forty strings are all but repaid; it is time you
were off again.” Thereupon the child changed colour; its head fell
back, and its eyes stared fixedly, and, when they tried to revive it,
lo! respiration had already ceased. The father then took the balance
of the forty strings, and with it defrayed the child’s funeral
expenses--truly a warning to people to be sure and pay their debts.
Formerly, an old childless man consulted a great many Buddhist priests
on the subject. One of them said to him, “If you owe no one anything,
and no one owes you anything, how can you expect to have children? A
good son is the repayment of a former debt; a bad son is a dunning
creditor, at whose birth there is no rejoicing, at whose death no
lamentations.”[190]
FOOTNOTE:
[190] And such is actually the prevalent belief in China to this day.
CXI.
SAVING LIFE.