The surface of the earth is believed to be covered with a network of
invisible paths of the dragon known as Lung Mei. People who build their
houses or find graves for their dead upon one of these courses are
extremely fortunate. The ruling emperors, however, made efforts to
prevent their subjects from occupying the positions upon such
auspicious sites. When Chao Ming, the founder of the Sung dynasty,
while still an unknown young man in reduced financial straits, was
forced to move his father’s bones, he carried them in a reed bag and
buried them by accident upon one of these dragon paths. As a result of
this fact, we are told, heaven smiled upon him and he himself not long
afterward became an emperor.
Within the past few years, a young Chinese, who had been studying in
Japan, committed suicide for political reasons while on his way across
the ocean. Because he was so well beloved he was buried by his friends
in a beautiful mountain valley on a dragon path. The Board of Rites in
Peking, on hearing of this, ordered the grave removed, sending telegram
after telegram to the local magistrates to have the coffin disinterred
at once and taken to another spot. Since the Revolution, it is said
that the student’s body has been taken back to its first resting place.
When Chinese observe the natural phenomenon which in the West is
commonly described as “the sun drawing up water,” they say that what is
seen is the dragon sucking up water to form the clouds.
When rain falls upon one man’s field and not upon his neighbor’s, or
upon one half of a man’s farm and not upon the other, one explanation
which is advanced for this fact is that the line which marks the
division of dry and wet land is directly beneath the boundary line of
the territory governed by two different dragons. One sees fit to order
rain when the other does not. The territories controlled by the
different dragons are redistributed once each year, on the seventeenth
of the third month, which is known as “Li Hsia,” “The Festival of the
Beginning of Summer.”
A few amusing illustrations of the way in which dragon superstitions
have been allowed to play a leading part in Chinese life have come to
the writer’s attention. A Tientsin district magistrate, about forty
years ago, tried to make an outlet from the Pei River in order to turn
off the water at the time of a flood. After spending too much money in
what proved to be an unsuccessful effort, he jumped into the river and
was drowned. The story goes that the flood immediately subsided and the
official turned into a dragon. Shortly afterwards he was changed into a
snake and was captured. This creature was carried in state into
Tientsin City where it was placed in the dragon temple and was
worshiped by the viceroy of Chihli province, who was none other than Li
Hung Chang. This official later became prime minister and held that
position for twenty years.
In the heart of Wuchang there is a steep hill which cuts the business
part of the city into two sections. This hill is so steep that it is
practically impossible to carry the traffic over it. Some Chinese claim
the hill to be the dwelling place of a tortoise, others of a serpent,
and still others of a dragon. Some years ago, when Chang Chih Tung was
living in that city as viceroy of Hunan and Hupeh, he caused a tunnel
to be cut through the hill so that communication from one business
center to the other would be facilitated. Not long after this was
completed, the viceroy began to suffer from a carbuncle on his neck.
Chinese and foreign physicians alike failed in their attempts to cure
him. At last a geomancer was consulted. “I know the reason for your
Excellency’s illness,” he said without hesitation. “You have caused the
dragon’s haunt to be penetrated. Block up the tunnel in the hill and
you will get well.” The thing was done, the viceroy soon recovered, and
faith in the dragon on the part of the people of Wuchang was more
firmly established than ever. It might be added that since the
Revolution the tunnel through the hill has again been opened.
Many years ago large numbers of the students of Hangchow City failed to
pass the Chu Jen, or Master of Arts, Examination. The fact sorely
puzzled the city magistrates, who lost much “face.” No explanation
could be found for this fact until a geomancer explained that a dragon
living in the mountain range northwest of the city had no room to wag
his head, and that a large section of one end of the range must be dug
away before Hangchow students would be able to succeed. The geomancer’s
suggestion was carried out, the dragon was given the chance he desired,
and it is needless to say that since that time all has been well.