FAMILY GRAVEYARDS
Not the most unobservant visitor to China can fail to notice the
ubiquity of graveyards. In Western countries one is usually obliged
to ask the way to a cemetery; in China one finds the way by merely
walking in any direction one pleases. Nowhere so vividly as in China
does one realise that not only the path of glory but every other kind
of path leads but to a grave. The sight is sometimes a melancholy
one; as dreary as some of the city churchyards in England are the
vast cemeteries for the poor that cover the bare hillsides in the
neighbourhood of many great Chinese cities. The omega-shaped tombs
of south China are apt, moreover, to appal one by their vastness and
too often by the barren cheerlessness of their surroundings. But
there is nothing dismal in the family graveyards that dot the valleys
of the country districts in the north. Indeed, in a region like the
north-eastern extremity of Shantung, where there is of course no
tropical vegetation and where timber is scarce, the wooded graveyards
form one of the pleasantest features in every landscape. If while
walking across the fields of the Weihaiwei Territory one comes across
a thick plantation of trees--such as the fir and the Chinese oak,
which is never leafless--one is sure to find that it marks the last
resting-place of a family or a clan that inhabits or once inhabited
some village not far away. The plantation is surrounded by no wall
or fence of any kind; such would be a useless precaution, for no
one--except an occasional rascal who "fears neither God nor man"--will
knowingly injure a funereal tree or otherwise violate the sanctity of
the home of the dead. At the first glance the tombs may not be visible,
for the tree branches are almost interlaced, and in summer-time nearly
every grave has its own canopy of foliage; moreover, instead of the
omega or horse-shoe tombs of the south we find only little hillocks and
unpretentious gravestones.
A Chinese grave in Weihaiwei is not indeed very different in
appearance--looked at from afar--from a grave in Europe; though instead
of the long mound in front of an inscribed stone we find in Weihaiwei a
circular or sometimes oval-shaped mound _behind_ the stone, which is an
upright whitish block with very little ornamentation. The inscription
usually contains nothing more (in modern times) than names and dates
and position in the family. The names of husband and wife are inscribed
on the same stone--for the two are always buried in the same grave, the
wife's coffin being placed on the right of the husband's.[190] On the
stone are frequently carved the names of the surviving members of the
family by whom it has been erected. These are always persons in the
direct line of descent; or, if the deceased left no heirs of his body,
his adopted son. The translation of a typical inscription will be found
on the next page.
It is not customary to erect a tombstone soon after a burial; the
mound is sufficient to indicate to the family the exact position of
the grave, and all necessary dates and names are carefully entered on
the pedigree-scroll or inscribed on the ancestral tablets. In front
of each grave will often be seen a small stone altar or pedestal or a
stone incense-jar. Here are offered up the ancestral sacrifices at the
festivals of Ch'ing-Ming and the first of the tenth moon.[191] At one
extremity of the graveyard will often be found a large upright stone
slab on which is engraved in deep bold characters the name of the
family to which all the tombs belong. The inscription is as simple as
possible, usually consisting of four Chinese characters. _Chou Shih Tsu
Ying_[192]--to take an example--may be rendered
THE ANCESTRAL GRAVEYARD OF THE CHOU FAMILY
[Illustration:
THE IMPERIAL CH'ING DYNASTY
THE TOMB
OF
A MEMBER OF THE YAO FAMILY, AN ELDEST
SON, WHOSE PERSONAL NAME WAS
SHIH-JUN
AND OF
HIS WIFE
A DAUGHTER OF THE WANG FAMILY
This stone is erected on the twelfth day of the second month of the
first year of Hsüan T'ung (March 3, 1909) by Yao Fêng-lai, a son, Yao
Yüeh-i, a grandson, and Yao Wan-nien, a great-grandson
]
[Illustration: THE ANCESTRAL GRAVEYARD OF THE CHOU FAMILY.]
Most of the graveyards (_ying ti_) are very old, and as the centuries
pass, the inscriptions on the oldest monuments naturally tend to become
illegible or the stones themselves are displaced and broken by the
roots of trees or other natural causes. At the periodical sacrifices,
however, care is taken to neglect no grave that is recognisable as
such. In order to make sure that none of the ancestral spirits will be
left uncared for, sacrificial offerings are made to the souls of the
ancestors in general as well as to the immediate predecessors of the
sacrificers. The usual expression used in Weihaiwei for a ceremonial
visit to the family grave is _shang fên_, "to go up to the tombs."[193]
A graveyard is very often completely surrounded by cultivated fields.
As a general rule these fields are the property of a branch of the
family that owns the graveyard, but sometimes the family has emigrated
to another part of the country or has had to part with this portion of
its arable acres, so that it has passed into the hands of strangers.
But the graveyard itself is never forgotten and never alienated. No
matter to what distance the family may have moved, it will never lose
touch with the spot where lie the bones of its ancestors--the spot
to which its members all expect that their bodies will some day be
carried. Year by year one or more members of the family will be sent to
carry out the traditional sacrificial ceremonies, to "sweep" the tombs
and to see that the ploughs of strangers have not encroached upon the
sacred boundaries.
The most interesting tombs in Weihaiwei, from the visitor's point
of view, are those known to the English as Beehive graves.[194] All
or nearly all those on which the inscriptions are legible show that
they were erected in the Yüan dynasty (1280-1367) or the early Ming
dynasty, which came to the throne in 1368. None are of modern date,
though in many cases the places in which they are found are still the
family burial-grounds of the direct descendants of the people to whose
memory they were erected. This handsome form of tombstone has fallen
into complete disuse, and the people account for its former use by the
explanation that in the old days the country was overrun with wolves
and other wild beasts and that it was necessary to erect massive piles
of masonry over the graves to protect them from desecration. These
tombs somewhat resemble Buddhist stupas or Lamaist _chorten_; most of
them have panels artistically carved with figures of animals, human
beings and conventional plants and devices of various kinds. Very
often the carving on a panel represents the tomb itself in miniature,
with mourners or worshippers kneeling round it. The whole structure
is made of heavy blocks of stone, the general design consisting of a
large dome surmounted by a Buddhistic lotus or a conventional spire and
superimposed upon a panelled pedestal.
Every graveyard is "managed" by the elders of the clan, who draw up
rules for general upkeep and the allotment of grave-sites. Sometimes
the different branches of the family are allowed to take turns in
keeping the graveyard in proper order and in superintending the
sacrifices, in return for which services the caretakers are allowed
to derive a little profit from a periodical grass-cutting and pruning
of trees; sometimes, too, they are put in temporary and conditional
possession of an area of arable land out of the proceeds of which they
are often expected not only to look after the graveyard but also to
keep in repair the _chia miao_ or Family Temple. Acrimonious disputes
occasionally arise among relatives as to who has the best right or
whose turn has arrived to enjoy the use of these "sacrificial" lands,
and sometimes a whole clan brings an action against one of its branches
for refusing to give them up when it has had its turn. But after
all, though such disputes provide troublesome work for the British
magistrate whose duty it is to administer "local custom," the system
as a general rule works very smoothly.
In dealing with village life we saw that most villages have their
police regulations,[195] in accordance with which they impose fines
on those who have been guilty of misconduct. Special regulations are
often considered necessary for the adequate protection of the family
graveyards. One set of such is now before me, and runs as follows:
"The following list of penalties for offences connected with the
ancestral graveyard is drawn up and unanimously agreed upon by the
entire village of the Tsou family:
Cutting or mutilating trees without
authority 10 _tiao_.
Cutting grass or shrubs 5 _tiao_.
Pasturing cattle, donkeys or mules 5 _tiao_.
"This list of penalties is to be preserved in the Ancestral Temple of
the Tsou family."
It will be observed that no penalty is assigned for the offence of
damaging the actual graves, this being an offence which is almost
unknown; though a man was once charged before me by the whole of his
fellow-villagers with the offence of digging up and levelling an old
grave (_chüeh p'ing ku fên_). It was admitted by the prosecutors
that the grave in question was very ancient and that the branch of
the family to which it belonged had long been extinct. The fact that
the whole village made a point of denouncing their sacrilegious
neighbour (who had hoped to extend the boundaries of his arable land by
encroaching on a corner of the graveyard that no one seemed to want)
shows how heinous a crime it is in China to disturb the resting-places
even of the unknown dead. Sometimes the regulations are cut on a great
stone slab which is set up within the graveyard itself. If no definite
regulations have been agreed upon, the custom, when the sanctity of
a graveyard has been violated, is for the elders of the clan to meet
in council and decide the case according to circumstances. If the
convicted man refuses to accept the punishment pronounced upon him,
or if he belongs to another village or clan, the matter usually comes
before the magistrate.
A case arising out of the theft of some graveyard trees was lately
submitted to my decision owing to the truculent behaviour of the
malefactor, who refused to submit to the headmen's judgment. After
investigating the circumstances I sentenced him to pay a fine of ten
dollars, which was to be applied to the upkeep of the ancestral temple;
to plant three times the number of trees that he had cut down; and to
erect a stone tablet within the graveyard at his own expense setting
forth the offence of which he had been guilty and enlarging upon the
severe punishments that would befall others who attempted in future to
commit like misdeeds.
Another case was brought before me by a man who accused a stranger of
cutting up a dead donkey within his family graveyard. The defendant's
excuse was that while passing the graveyard his donkey had suddenly
taken ill and died, and that he dragged it in among the trees in order
to avoid incommoding the public by skinning and slicing the animal on
the roadside. Donkeys, it may be mentioned, are not ordinary articles
of diet, but few Chinese can bring themselves to throw away flesh that
by any stretch of the imagination can be regarded as edible; hence it
is quite usual to eat the remains of cattle and donkeys that die of
old age or even of disease. The plaintiff's plea in this suit was not
that the defendant was preparing for human consumption food that was
unfit to eat, but that the defendant had selected his graveyard for
use as a butcher's shop. He objected, reasonably enough, to having his
ancestors' tombs bespattered with the blood of a dead donkey. The
defendant was required to offer a public apology to the plaintiff and
to pay him a moderate sum as compensation; and the plaintiff left the
court a contented man.
The mode of punishment often chosen by the elders for offences
connected with graveyards is to compel the accused to make an expiatory
offering to the dead whose spirits he is supposed to have offended. A
man who "cut branches from the family graveyard for his own use" was
recently sentenced by his clan to present himself at the graveyard
in an attitude of humility and to offer up a sacrifice of pork and
vegetables. The custom in such cases is that after the dead have
consumed their part of the sacrifice (that is to say, the spiritual or
immaterial and invisible part) the remainder is divided up among the
chief families concerned or eaten at a clan feast.
A curious custom analogous to this of serving up hog-flesh as an
expiatory offering to the spirits to whom the graveyard and its
trees are sacred is to be found in Roman literature. "Cato," as Dr.
Tylor reminds us,[196] "instructs the woodman how to gain indemnity
for thinning a holy grove; he must offer a hog in sacrifice with
this prayer, 'Be thou god or goddess to whom this grove is sacred,
permit me, by the expiation of this pig, and in order to restrain the
overgrowth of this wood, _etc., etc._'" The two customs are not true
parallels, however, for the Chinese offers his sacrifice to the spirits
of his ancestors as an atonement for the offence of cutting trees
which he normally regards as the inviolable property of the dead or as
associated with them in some mysterious way; whereas the Roman offered
his sacrifice to a grove which was in itself sacred as being the abode
of gods or dryads. We shall see later on[197] that tree-worship still
finds a place in the Chinese religious system and is not extinct even
in Weihaiwei, but it would be a mistake to regard the veneration shown
for the trees of a family graveyard as evidence of such worship. Even
if the custom of planting a graveyard with trees had in remote times
a common origin with tree-worship (which is at least doubtful) there
is no evidence whatever to support the view that graveyard trees are
regarded as sacred in themselves at the present time. An obvious reason
for planting trees in a graveyard would seem to be that it facilitated
the protection of the graves from the encroachments of the plough; but
the custom is more probably derived from the ancient superstition that
certain trees communicate their preservative qualities to the human
remains that lie below them or impart a kind of vitality or vigour to
the spirits of the dead.
This matter has been ably and thoroughly discussed by Dr. De
Groot,[198] who shows convincingly that "since very ancient times pines
and cypresses have played a prominent part as producers of timber for
coffins, and that this was the case because these trees, being believed
to be imbued with great vitality, might counteract the putrefaction of
the mortal remains." The same cause that made such timber valuable for
coffins made it valuable for graveyards. The superstition is connected
with the ancient Chinese philosophic doctrine of the _Yang_ and the
_Yin_--the complementary forces and qualities which pervade all nature,
such as male and female, light and dark, warmth and cold, activity and
passivity, positive and negative, life and death. It was supposed that
all evergreens must have a greater store of the _yang_ element (life,
vitality) than other trees, because they retain their foliage through
the winter; and of evergreen trees those prized most by the Chinese for
their life-giving qualities were and are the fir and the cypress.[199]
Therefore by planting these trees in their graveyards and in the
courtyards of their ancestral temples the Chinese supposed they would
endow their ancestors (apparently both their dead bodies and their
living spirits) with a never-failing preservative against decay and
dissolution. The result of this on themselves--the living descendants
of the dead--must be, it was thought, a constant flow of happiness and
good fortune.
It will be remembered that ancestor-worship is not merely regarded as
a method of showing love and reverence for the dead but is believed
to induce the ancestral spirits to protect and watch over the family
and to bestow on its members long life, many children and general
prosperity. The more abundant the vitality (if one may speak of the
vitality of a ghost) that can be imparted to the ancestral spirits, the
better able will they be (so goes the theory) to exert themselves on
behalf of the fortunes of their posterity; and the best way to impart
vitality (that is, the _yang_ element) to the spirits is to surround
their coffins and their ancestral tablets with as many _yang_-supplying
agencies as possible. The original theory of the matter is probably
extinct at Weihaiwei if not everywhere else; trees are planted and
protected in the family temples and graveyards for no known reason
except that it is the traditional custom to do so[200]: yet it is
noteworthy that the cypress is still the favourite tree in the grounds
of the ancestral temples, that the fir is still considered one of the
best trees to plant in a graveyard, and that the pedigree-scrolls
preserved among the archives of every family are often decorated with
the painting of an evergreen tree.[201]
There are still persons in the Territory of Weihaiwei and its
neighbourhood who call themselves _yin-yang hsien-shêng_, that is,
professors of the principles of _yin_ and _yang_. Their functions are
much the same as those of the _fêng-shui hsien-shêng_ or Masters in
Geomancy.[202] As professional attendants at funerals their business is
to see that all the arrangements are so carried out as to give every
chance for the "vital essences" (_yang_) to assert themselves and to
keep the dark and languid essences (_yin_) in their proper position
of subordination. They select the propitious moment for starting the
procession, for lowering the coffin into the grave and for every other
act of importance in connection with the funeral; to them also is
left--within limits--the selection of a favourable position for the
grave.[203] The rules of _fêng-shui_ are complicated in the extreme;
an error of a few feet in judging of the precisely favourable spot
may completely shut off all the _yang_ influences and let in all the
_yin_ influences with a rush, in which case--so it is supposed by
believers--the family is doomed to misfortune and will probably before
long become extinct.
[Illustration: A PEDIGREE-SCROLL (CHIA P'U).]
A southern aspect is supposed to be generally the most favourable
for a graveyard, for the south is _yang_ whereas the north is _yin_;
but other influences and conditions have to be taken into account as
well--such as the contour of the neighbouring hills, the direction of
valleys and streams, the proximity of human habitations, and many other
things: so that a graveyard that has a northern aspect but possesses
first-rate geomantic conditions in other respects is often far superior
from the point of view of the professors of _yin-yang_ and _fêng-shui_
to a graveyard that has a southern aspect but happens to be overlooked
by a badly-shaped hill or is near a river that has too many bends or
flows the wrong way. Within the graveyard itself the good influences
are not supposed to concentrate themselves solely and permanently on
one spot; if that were so, the first people to die after the selection
of the graveyard would obviously get all the best positions.
The date and hour of death, the date of intended burial, the age and
sex and star-influences of the deceased, and many variable local and
temporary circumstances all have to be taken into consideration before
the _hsien-shêng_ can advise his client as to the best possible site
for any required grave. Certain parts of the graveyard are always more
"honourable" (in the heraldic sense) than others from the point of
view of family precedence and seniority. The back, centre and front
portions of the ground are reserved for married couples who have left
children and therefore take an honoured place in the family pedigree,
whereas members of the family who have died unmarried or in childhood
are either not accommodated in the family graveyard at all, or, if
admitted, they are buried close to the right or the left boundary. A
villager was once brought before me on the charge of having buried
his dead infant, a child of two years old, in a part of the graveyard
that was reserved for its dignified elders. As it is advisable in such
matters to uphold local custom I felt reluctantly obliged to order the
man to remove his child's body to that part of the graveyard which is
regarded as appropriate for those who have died in infancy.
If a family has had a long run of misfortune or misery and sees no way
of extricating itself from its difficulties, it will sometimes try
to throw the blame on its graveyard: not, of course, on the spirits
of its ancestors but merely on the unpropitious influences that hang
round the sites of the family tombs. The only possible remedy in such a
case is to employ a _hsien-shêng_ to study the geomantic conditions of
the locality and advise as to what can be done to improve them. He is
almost sure to agree with his employers that their surmise is correct
and that the badly-situated graveyard is the cause of all their woes,
for he will then be able to proceed to the lucrative task of selecting
a new graveyard-site and superintending the removal of the graves. The
only case of this nature that has come within my personal experience is
interesting as throwing a light on the _hsien-shêng_'s method of work.
It is probable that many other cases have occurred even in Weihaiwei,
but as geomantic superstitions are frowned upon by Chinese law, and the
unnecessary removal of graves on the plea of finding better _fêng-shui_
is a penal offence, _yin-yang_ professors naturally ply their trade
with as little ostentation as possible.
A man whom we will call Chang Ying-mu brought an action against some
of his neighbours for denying him the right to move certain of his
ancestors' graves from their present unlucky site to one that had been
specially selected for him after deep consideration by a professor of
_yin-yang_ and _fêng-shui_. "I have been very unfortunate in business,"
he said; "I dealt in opium at Chefoo and used to get on very well;
but this new anti-opium fad has ruined me. I came home recently and
brought with me a _hsien-shêng_ who is a native of Fu-shan Hsien [the
magisterial district in which Chefoo is situated] in order to consult
him about my ancestral graves, as I had suspicions that it was due to
the bad _fêng-shui_ of the graveyard that I had been landed in so many
difficulties. The _hsien-shêng_ saw at once that the present site was
very bad. He said that nothing could be done to improve the _fêng-shui_
and that I must move all the graves to another place. The spot he has
chosen happens to be not far from the houses of Tsou Hêng-li and Tsou
Yü-ch'êng and many other villagers; and they at once raised objections
to the proposed site on the ground that they would see the graves
on coming out of their houses, which they said would be unlucky. I
suggested planting a row of trees between their houses and my graves,
but they refused to accept this arrangement. I then offered to build
a stone wall as a screen, and to write 'Happiness' and 'Long Life' in
large characters on the side of it that would face the defendants'
houses, but the _hsien-shêng_ objects to this as the wall would
obstruct the free circulation of good _fêng-shui_ round my new graves.
I have already acquired the new site by exchanging another piece of
land for it, and now that I have got it my neighbours prevent me from
using it."
The defendants Tsou Hêng-li and others presented a counter-petition
to the following effect. "The _hsien-shêng_, whose name is said to
be Hsiao, is a stranger to our village and he is quite evidently a
rascal. He falsely pretended to be skilled in _fêng-shui_ in order to
swindle Chang Ying-mu out of his money. He told Chang that if he moved
his ancestral graves to the new site indicated he would guarantee that
Chang would acquire wealth and honours within the space of three years.
We all raised the strongest objections to the proposal, partly because
Hsiao was a rogue and partly because the new site was practically in
the middle of the village, which is quite an improper place for graves.
The luck of our village would certainly be damaged if part of it were
turned into a graveyard. Hsiao's only reply to us was that he was
learned in the P'ing-yang books of Chiang-nan and that we were children
in such deep matters. We fail to see why the customs of the Chiang-nan
provinces should be made applicable to our province of Shantung. We
appeal to the Magistrate to rid us of this pestilent fellow and so
allow our village to resume its normal life."
Hsiao himself, who was duly summoned to explain his own view of the
situation, stated that he had selected the site because he saw from
the situation that it would be productive of long life and honours
and that if the coffins remained where they were Chang Ying-mu's
family would in future have bad luck, no honours and short lives. "My
knowledge," he added on cross-examination, "is not derived from books
but from the traditions of Chiang-nan." As I was anxious to obtain
for my own information some clue to his methods and theories I called
upon him to produce a clear statement on the subject in writing; and
having had him conveyed from the court in charge of the police, I
reprimanded Chang Ying-mu for allowing himself to be deceived by a
swindler and recommended him to leave his ancestors' graves where they
were. I explained to him that the anti-opium regulations had been put
in force in both British and Chinese territory quite irrespectively of
his family concerns or his trading enterprises, and that they would
unquestionably remain in force even if he moved his ancestral coffins
a dozen times. The defendants were assured that in view of their very
reasonable objections the court would certainly not allow their village
to be turned into a graveyard.
As far as plaintiff and defendant were concerned the case was now at an
end, but I had still to receive the professor's written statement. In a
couple of days the document was duly presented, and may be translated
thus:
"Statement showing cause why Chang Ying-mu's graveyard is
unpropitiously situated and will cause misfortunes and early deaths;
and why the site now selected will be the source of a constant flow of
happiness. As regards the present site: firstly, all along the front
of the graveyard there is a gully as deep as the height of two men.
This is unlucky. The deep gully presses against the tombs like a wall,
obstructing the passage of benign influences. This has a disastrous
effect on the women of the family, who will have excessive difficulty
in childbirth. Secondly, a small stream of water trickles from the
graveyard and after flowing a distance of half a _li_ it vanishes in
the sand. The result of this on the family is that children are born
as weaklings and die in infancy. Thirdly, another stream of water
flows away to the north-east. This carries off all the wealth-making
capabilities of the family and the good qualities of sons and
grandsons. As regards the proposed new site: firstly, there are hills
on the south-west, their direction being from east to west. Their
formation so controls the courses of four streams that they all unite
at the eastern corner of this site. Just as these streams of water
come together and cannot again separate, so will riches and honours
flow from various quarters and finally unite in the hands of the
family that has its graveyard in this fortunate locality. Secondly,
the ceaseless flow of water has formed a long sandbank, four feet
high, on the southern and south-eastern sides of the site. Just as the
water brings down innumerable grains of sand and piles them up near
the point where the waters meet, so will the family that buries its
dead here be blessed with countless male descendants."
_Fêng-shui_ is not a branch of knowledge that deserves encouragement,
so I informed the professor that the explanations given in this
illuminating document were interesting but unconvincing, and that if
he did not withdraw from British territory within three days he would
be sent to gaol as a rogue and vagabond. He forthwith returned to
his native district and the graveyard of the Chang family remained
undisturbed.
An incident of this kind affords proof, if such were necessary, that in
keeping up the cult of ancestors and in devoting care and expense to
the maintenance of the family tombs the Chinese are not actuated solely
by feelings of filial piety and reverence for the dead. On the other
hand it is equally clear from abundant evidence that self-interest
and a desire for material prosperity are very far from being the sole
source of ancestral worship. Some foreign critics have tried to show
that it springs not from love and filial piety but from a dread of
the ancestral spirits and a desire to propitiate them. This view,
which has been condemned as erroneous by those who are themselves
ancestor-worshippers, is certainly a mistaken one. If, indeed, the
average ancestor-worshipping Chinese did not suppose that some material
benefit would accrue to him from carrying out the prescribed rites he
would doubtless show a flagging zeal in their perpetuation. Even the
average European, perhaps, would grow a little weary of well-doing if
he were informed on unimpeachable authority that in future the promised
rewards of virtuous conduct were to be withheld both on earth and in
heaven and that a crown of glory was not for him. The average man, all
the world over, is apt to show impatience if he is asked to be virtuous
for the sole sake of virtue. Had the ancestral cult been founded on
nothing but pure love, reverence and altruism, it might have been kept
barely alive from generation to generation by a few of those rare and
exalted souls who seem incapable of self-seeking, but it would never
have attained universal observance throughout China; had it, on the
other hand, been founded on nothing but fear, selfishness and desire
for material gain, it might have become popular with the masses but it
could never have earned, as it has earned, the enthusiastic approval
of the noblest minds and loftiest characters that China has produced.
Probably it is the very mingling of motives that has caused the cult of
ancestors to take such deep root in the hearts of the people that it is
to-day by far the most potent religious and social force to be found in
the Empire.
At the present day and for very many centuries past the cult of
ancestors and the dutiful upkeep of the ancestral tombs have been
regarded as inseparably combined: but it was not so always. If the
ancient Book of Rites (_Li Chi_) is to be trusted, Confucius for many
years of adult life did not know where his father's grave was, and
apparently it was only on his mother's death that he took the trouble
to find out. The same book, which dates from the first and second
centuries B.C., also narrates a story of how Confucius's disciples
reported to him that the tumulus over his mother's grave had collapsed
owing to a heavy rainfall; yet he merely remarked, with emotion, that
"people did not repair tombs in the good old times,"--an enigmatical
remark that has been variously interpreted.[204]
These stories probably originated from the well-ascertained fact that
Confucius--like most of the Chinese philosophers and sages--was very
strongly opposed to lavish expenditure on coffins, graves and funerals.
Confucius's teaching on the subject seems to have been practical and
reasonable. He taught that the bodies of the dead should be treated
with every possible respect but that the material interests of the
living must not be sacrificed in order to confer some unnecessary and
doubtful boon upon the dead. Needless to say he was strenuously opposed
to the barbarous customs of entombing the living with the dead and of
widow-immolation, customs which seem to have been practised in China
from the seventh century B.C. if not from much earlier times and which
did not become altogether extinct till the seventeenth century of our
era.[205]
But if Confucius did not lay overmuch stress on funerals and the
preservation of tombs, he was emphatic on the subject of filial piety.
The connection between Confucianism and ancestral worship must be dealt
with when we are considering the subject of Religion: it is therefore
unnecessary to enlarge upon this important subject at present,
beyond pointing out that filial piety--on which ancestral worship
is based--was regarded by Confucius and his school as "the fountain
from which all other virtues spring and the starting-point of all
education."[206]
There is a well-known Chinese tract called the "Twenty-four Examples
of Filial Piety"[207] which consists of short anecdotes of sons who
made themselves illustrious by the exercise of this chief of virtues.
Some of the examples recorded are worthy of sincere admiration, but
many of the filial performances are apt to strike an occidental reader
as somewhat ridiculous. There is the famous story of Lao Lai-tzŭ,
for instance, whose parents lived to such extreme old age that he
was himself a toothless old man while they were both still alive.
Conceiving it his duty to divert their attention from their weight of
years and approaching end, he dressed himself up in the clothes of a
child and danced and played about in his parents' presence with the
object of making them think they were still a young married couple
contemplating the innocent gambols of their infant son. Perhaps the
most touching of these stories is that of Wang P'ou, whose mother
happened to have an unconquerable dread of thunder and lightning. When
she died she was buried in a mountain forest; and thereafter, when a
violent thunderstorm occurred, Wang P'ou, heedless of the wind and
rain, would hurry to her grave and throw himself to his knees. "I am
here to protect you, dear mother," he would say; "do not be afraid."
If the stories in this well-known collection strike one as chiefly
remarkable for their quaintness and simplicity, it should be remembered
that they were primarily intended for the edification of the young,
who might fail to understand the nobler modes in which filial piety
can display itself. How numerous are the recorded examples of this
virtue in China and how highly it is esteemed may be realised from
the fact that a special chapter in the official Annals of every
magisterial district is devoted to a summary of the most conspicuous
local instances of filial piety that have come under the notice of the
authorities. The official accounts of Weihaiwei and the neighbouring
districts are not exceptional in this respect. This corner of the
Empire may have produced few great scholars but it is certainly not
without its roll of filial sons. The finest example from an occidental
point of view is perhaps that of Huang Chao-hsüan, the brave boy who
went out willingly to die by his father's side.[208] Most of the other
cases are of a type that appeals but slightly to the Western mind.
Of Wang Yen-ming, a Weihaiwei man, we are told that he lived in a hut
beside his parents' grave for three years. This was quite a common
practice in the old days;[209] the most famous example in history is
that of Confucius's disciple Tzŭ Kung, who lived by the side of the
Master's grave at Ch'ü Fou for no less than six years.[210] But even
this act of devotion was outdone by a man named Tung Tao-ming of the
Sung dynasty, who is said to have caused himself to be buried alive
for three days in his mother's grave. The story goes that when his
family dug him out at the end of that period they found him still alive
and quite well; and he proceeded to build himself beside the grave a
mat-shed in which he spent the rest of his life.[211] To return to the
Weihaiwei story about Wang Yen-ming, it goes on to say that he mourned
so much for his parents that he wept himself blind. However, a kind
spirit visited him in a dream and rubbed his eyes with the juice or
resin of a fir-tree, and this immediately restored his sight. It will
be understood from what has been said with regard to firs and other
evergreens[212] that owing to the abundance of the _yang_ or vital
element which they contain they are supposed to have marvellous healing
as well as preservative qualities. For this reason the resin of such
trees was believed to be one of the most valuable ingredients in the
Taoists' elixir of life.
The story of Wang concludes with the remark that his descendants
became highly successful and attained exalted office: this, of course,
as a result of his filial piety, which is always supposed to bring its
reward sooner or later. Of Ch'ên Kuo-hsiang, another local worthy, we
are informed that he belonged to a family that was poor in material
wealth but rich in virtue. His father when very old lost all his teeth
and could not eat bean-porridge; moreover, as he had a chronic cough
he could not eat salt. For these reasons Ch'ên never allowed either
beans or salt to appear on the family dinner-table so long as his
father lived. This act of filial piety may have had two motives: in the
first place, if these delicacies were on the table the old man might
be tempted to taste them, and this might result in his illness and
death: in the second place, if he were persuaded to refrain from eating
them his venerable heart might vex itself with the reflection that he
was getting old and feeble and could not eat the same things as other
people. Whatever Ch'ên's dominant motive may have been he duly obtained
his reward, for the local magistrate presented him with a scroll to
hang over his door, bearing the words "A Filial Son."
FOOTNOTES:
[190] That is to say, the wife's body lies at the right side of the
husband's; thus the husband, as head of the family, is given the left
side--the place of honour.
[191] See pp. 186-7, 192.
[192] See illustration.
[193] Expressions such as _pai sao_ (the extended meaning of which is
"to make obeisance to the ancestral spirits and to sweep the tombs")
are also well known. In southern China (_e.g._ at Canton) perhaps the
commonest term is _pai shan_, "to worship (at) the hills"--where in
that part of the Empire the majority of the graves are situated.
[194] See illustration.
[195] See pp. 160 _seq._
[196] _Primitive Culture_ (4th ed.), vol. ii. p. 227. Dr. Tylor quotes
from Cato, _De Re Rustica_, 139; Pliny, xvii. 47.
[197] See pp. 382 _seq._
[198] _The Religious System of China_, vol. ii. pp. 462 _seq._ See also
vol. i. pp. 294 _seq._, and p. 348, where Dr. De Groot mentions "the
conception that if a body is properly circumvested by objects and wood
imbued with _Yang_ matter, or, in other words, with the same _shên_
afflatus of which the soul is composed, it will be a seat for the
manes even after death, a support to which the manes may firmly adhere
and thus prevent their nebulous, shadowy being from evaporating and
suffering annihilation."
[199] "The ancient Chinese, as well as Pliny, must have observed that
_pinus et cupressus adversum cariem tineasque firmissimae_. (Hist.
Nat. xvi.) These trees being in fact more proof against the ravages of
air, weather and insects than perhaps any other growing on the soil of
the Empire, it is natural enough that the inhabitants thereof ascribed
their strong constitution to the large amount of vital power in their
wood."--DE GROOT, _Religious System of China_, vol. i. p. 295.
[200] In ancient Egypt the cemeteries were overshadowed by thick
sycamores; and probably in nearly every country the planting of trees
and shrubs (or flowering plants) on the graves of the dead is or has
been a common practice. There is no necessity to ascribe the custom to
a single origin. The mere desire to differentiate the grave from the
surrounding tract of land is sufficient to explain the planting of a
tree or a grove of trees on or near the funeral mound. The cypress,
as every one knows, was and is a funereal tree in Europe as well as
in China. That this was so in Roman times we know from classical
literature. For some remarks on the cypress in connection with European
folk-lore, see the _Folk-lore Journal_, vol. iii. (1885) p. 144. See
also Sir Thomas Browne's _Urn-Burial_, ch. iv. para. 3, where it is
remarked "that, in strewing their tombs, the Romans affected the rose;
the Greeks, amaranthus and myrtle: that the funeral pyre consisted of
sweet fuel, cypress, fir, larix, yew and trees perpetually verdant."
He adds that these flowers and trees were intended to be silent
expressions of the hopes of the survivors; and that "Christians, who
deck their coffins with bays, have found a more elegant emblem; for
that tree, seeming dead, will restore itself from the root, and its dry
and exsuccous leaves resume their verdure again; which, if we mistake
not, we have also observed in furze. Whether the planting of yew in
churchyards hold not its original from ancient funeral rites, or as
an emblem of resurrection, from its perpetual verdure, may also admit
conjecture."
[201] See illustration.
[202] See pp. 118 _seq._
[203] The services of these persons is by no means always considered
necessary in Weihaiwei. Faith in the "science" of _fêng-shui_ is much
less strong here than in many other parts of the Empire.
[204] See Legge's _Li-ki_, vol. i. p. 123; De Groot, _Religious System
of China_, vol. ii. pp. 663-4 and 689; and Wang Ch'ung's _Lun Hêng_,
transl. by Prof. A. Forke, Part i. p. 197.
[205] See De Groot, _op. cit._ vol. ii. pp. 720 _seq._
[206] The _Hsiao Ching_ (Classic of Filial Piety), chap. i.
[207] A translation of it by Mr. Ivan Chên may be found in the "Wisdom
of the East" series (John Murray: 1908).
[208] See p. 75.
[209] See De Groot's _Religious System of China_, vol. ii. pp. 794
_seq._
[210] A little shrine by the side of Confucius's grave now occupies the
site of Tzŭ Kung's hut.
[211] De Groot, _op. cit._ vol. ii. p. 732.
[212] See pp. 262 _seq._