DEAD MEN AND GHOST-LORE
An essential point in the Chinese conception of Filial Piety is that a
father's death does not set the son free from the obligations of duty
and reverence: it merely changes the outward form or expression of
those obligations. He can no longer watch over his father's physical
welfare and anticipate his material wants, but he can still bring
peace and happiness to his father's spirit by living an upright life
and bringing glory and prosperity to the family. If his abilities or
opportunities are not such as to enable him to earn for his father
posthumous honours (such as the Emperor confers upon the ancestors of
those who have deserved well of the State) it is probably within his
power to preserve intact the inherited property, to keep the family
temple and tombs in good repair, to carry out with propriety and
reverence the orthodox ancestral rites during his own lifetime and to
provide for their continuance during future generations by bringing up
a family of his own.
The Chinese belief with regard to the souls of the dead (or rather the
ancient beliefs on which the ancestral ceremonies are based) are rather
complicated. According to one doctrine every man has no less than ten
souls, of which three are _yang_ and seven are _yin_;[213] it is also
said that what is called the _hun-_soul goes to heaven, while the
_p'o_-soul descends into the earth. The most popular view appears to be
that every man has three souls allotted to him: of these one remains
in or around the tomb, another hovers about the ancestral tablet,
while the third wanders away and, after amalgamating itself with other
mysterious forces, is finally reincarnated in another mortal body,
which--unless the soul behaved very badly in its last incarnation--will
be a human one. For the purpose of the ancestral cult the souls
that are of importance are the grave-soul and the tablet-soul. The
grave-soul receives its due share of "worship" at the great annual
tomb-festivals of spring and autumn. The tablet-soul is supposed to
take up its abode, by ceremonious invitation, in the spirit-tablet
as soon as the body has been consigned to the grave. "From this very
moment," as Dr. De Groot says, "the tablet is considered to be imbued
with the afflatus of the dead, and to have become his perpetual
duplicate, to serve as a patron divinity in the domestic circle and
there to receive the offspring's sacrifices and worship."[214]
The soul-tablets (_shên-chu_) of father, grandfather and
great-grandfather are, in Weihaiwei, preserved in every private house,
while the tablets of the earlier ancestors are deposited in the family
temples. They are not exposed, either in house or in temple, except on
ceremonial occasions, such as the first fifteen days of the first month
of the year and the festival of the winter solstice (_Tung Chih_) at or
about the time of the European Christmas. The _Chia Miao_ or Ancestral
Temple is usually the largest as well as the cleanest building in the
village. The front gate, abutting on the main village street, leads
into a small courtyard in which there is generally at least one cypress
tree.[215] The temple itself consists of a large room containing
little or nothing but a few carved chairs, a table, and--last but
not least--rows of boxes containing ancestral tablets. Each tablet
consists of an oblong piece of hard wood (_catalpa_ is chiefly used
at Weihaiwei) about eight inches high and two inches broad, fitting
into a wooden stand three inches broad and one inch high. The tablet
has a recessed front, which bears an inscription more or less similar
to that which appears on tombstones.[216] Into the recess slips a
sliding front, on the outside of which the inscription is repeated in
a slightly altered form. The outside of the tablet is often painted
white, but the recessed front is left plain. Both inscriptions are
written in black ink, but there is an important dot of red ink[217] on
the top of the important character _chu_, which comes last.
The process of "dotting the chu" (_tien chu_) with red ink is an
essential part of the ceremony whereby the wooden tablet becomes the
abode of an ancestral soul. As a rule the tablet bears two names--those
of husband and wife--so that each human soul is not necessarily
supposed to have a tablet to itself. Just as the bodies of husband and
wife share a single grave, so do their spirits (according to the theory
accepted in Weihaiwei) share a single tablet, and the prayers and
sacrifices that are offered to the one are intended in equal measure
for the other.
The inscription on a tablet now before me[218] may be translated as
follows. _Outside._ "The Spirit-tablet of my deceased honoured father
and mother. I their son Yüeh-hsiang reverentially make obeisance and
offer sacrifice."[219] _Inside._ "The Imperial Ch'ing Dynasty. The
Spirit-tablet of Yao Fêng-chu, the eldest son of his generation,[220]
and his wife Chang Shih." Sometimes dates are added on the tablet
but these are not essential, as all such records are preserved in
the genealogical table or pedigree-scroll. On ceremonial occasions
the tablets are set out in due order, so that the spirits may be
comforted by the sacrificial offerings and by the sight of the many
prosperous-looking descendants who have assembled to do them honour.
In front of the tablets are set up sticks of fragrant incense, and all
the members of the family present themselves in turn and bow reverently
towards the souls of their dead forefathers.
The little ceremony is as simple and yet as impressive as could well be
imagined. For the first few days of the New Year the pedigree-scroll
(_chia p'u_), which is carefully wrapped up and put away at ordinary
times, is unrolled and hung on the wall, where it receives a share of
the reverence paid to the tablets. The scroll is often a beautiful work
of art, painted to represent a temple or a grand family mansion,[221]
while the names of the past generations are inscribed in successive
rows so that the space devoted to each name looks a spirit-tablet
in miniature. In some parts of China, but not in Weihaiwei, it
is customary to have family portraits painted for the purpose of
preserving the "shadow-semblances" (_ying hsiang_) of ancestors as
sacred heirlooms in the family temples. Like the pedigree-scroll, such
portraits are exposed to view on solemn occasions only. They are often
painted while the subject is on his death-bed or immediately after his
death. De Groot[222] compares these family portraits with the _imagines
maiorum_ of the ancient Romans.
[Illustration: SPIRIT-TABLETS.
In the illustration on the left the slide has been removed.]
A Chinese who emigrates to a foreign land rarely fails to make an
agreement, either with his employers or with his compatriots, that if
he dies while abroad his body is to be taken back not only to China but
to his native town or village, wherever that may be. This peculiarity
on the part of the Chinese is so well recognised by every one concerned
that most European shipping firms trading in the Eastern seas are
obliged to make special arrangements for conveying cargoes of coffins
at moderate rates up and down the coast of China and from the various
countries bordering on the Pacific where there are Chinese merchants
and labourers. Probably it is generally supposed that the Chinese--like
the people of other countries, only more so--are so sentimentally
attached to their old homes that they will not venture to go abroad
unless they are sure of returning to it some day as dead men if not
as living ones. This is true to a certain extent. The average Chinese
dearly loves his old home, and considering that it has been the home of
his ancestors for a length of time that would make the oldest ancestral
estate in England ashamed of itself, it is no wonder that he should
regard it with affection.
But there is another reason why it is considered important that every
Chinese--at least every Chinese who has sons of his own and has
maintained connection with the old stock from which he sprang--should
lay his bones beside those of his fathers. The Chinese theory is that
some mysterious sympathy exists, even after death, between the soul and
the body, and that unless the body is brought to the place where the
ancestral _sacra_ are carried out it will be impossible to provide for
the sacrificial rites that ought to be rendered to the soul. The family
at home will thus lose one of its ancestral links, and the dead man's
spirit will wander homeless and lordless in the world of shades: an
ancestral ghost separated for ever from communion with its fellows.
[Illustration: _Photo by Ah Fong, Weihaiwei._
A PEDIGREE-SCROLL (CHIA P'U) (see p. 279).]
It is partly because of this supposed connection between soul and
body that the Chinese abhor the idea of descending to their graves in
a mutilated condition. Thus in China decapitation is a more serious
punishment than strangulation, because it is thought that the headless
man may become a headless ghost. The danger of appearing in a mutilated
condition in the next world is, however, lessened or averted if the
severed members can be buried along with the body to which they
belonged. A Chinese servant in Weihaiwei not long ago begged for an old
biscuit-tin from his foreign master in order that he might give it to a
friend who wished to use it as a coffin for his amputated foot.[223]
It is the hope of every Chinese, then, that when he dies he will be
laid in his ancestral graveyard, and that he will be laid there in a
state of organic completeness. But there are occasions, of course,
when it has proved impossible to convey dead men's bones from one
end of China to another, or home from a foreign land: sometimes the
family cannot afford the expense, sometimes there are overwhelming
difficulties with regard to transport. Chinese ingenuity long ago set
itself to devise a means whereby even such bad cases as this might have
a happy ending, and it succeeded. The body itself, it was argued, is
of no real importance: for sentimental reasons it is satisfactory to
be able to bury the bodies of the dead in their ancestral graveyards,
but otherwise there is no urgency in the matter provided only the dead
man's souls--in spite of the absence of the body with which they were
associated--can be persuaded or induced to take up their respective
abodes in the ancestral graveyard and in the spirit-tablet. The problem
was solved by calling in the aid of religion, and the ceremony observed
is in outline something like this.
The members of the deceased's family, clad of course in funereal garb,
call in a priest who, in accordance with the data provided by them,
prepares a scroll containing the dead man's name and age and the date
and place of his death. They then make a very rough effigy of a man--a
few twisted straws are quite good enough--and on the effigy they pin
the scroll. The priest now performs the ceremony of "calling the soul
back"--that is to say, he recites certain charms which are supposed
to reach the wandering spirit, wherever it may be, and to draw it to
the place where the ceremony is to take place. The utterance of a few
more charms is supposed to be sufficient to attach the spirit to the
effigy-or rather to the scroll--which is then placed in a miniature
coffin and buried with the rites observed at ordinary funerals. The man
himself, to all intents and purposes, now lies buried in the ancestral
graveyard, and all that remains to be done is to evoke the spiritual
presence that will in future inhabit the _shên-chu_ or spirit-tablet.
When this has been done (just in the same way as when a real corpse
lies buried) the ceremony is at an end: the soul, or rather the
combination of souls, has been saved from homelessness, and will in
future assume its proper position as an ancestral ghost both in the
family graveyard and in the ancestral temple.
This remarkable custom is obviously such a convenient means of avoiding
the trouble and expense of conveying dead bodies from distant places,
that its comparative rarity may well be a matter of some surprise.
Certainly, if the practice were to come into common use it would
indirectly give a great impulse to emigration: for which reason it
may perhaps be hoped by some Western peoples that it will for ever
remain unfashionable. The custom is, however, an exceedingly old one,
and was practised even at the Imperial Court nearly nineteen centuries
ago.[224] There seems to have always been a strong prejudice against
it, partly because it was a foolish superstition and partly because it
would tempt the people to cease troubling themselves about the burial
of their parents or bringing home their bodies from a distance, and
would thus tend to the degradation or weakening of the ideals of filial
piety. Hence we find that the practice of burying souls without the
bodies was in 318 A.D. condemned by Imperial Decree as heretical;[225]
yet this condemnation by no means brought about its discontinuance, and
the present legal position is that the "violation of a grave in which
an evoked soul is interred shall be punished just as severely as the
violation of a grave occupied by a corpse,"[226] that is to say the
offender may be sentenced to death.
In his interesting section on this strange custom Dr. De Groot remarks
that as it has been "of common prevalence for at least eighteen
centuries" its occurrence even nowadays can hardly be doubted. It
certainly exists at Weihaiwei, though it is not in very common use. One
reason for practising it in this little corner of China is based on
the very strong belief that husband and wife should always be buried
in the same grave. If the husband dies while he is abroad and the body
is lost or cannot be brought home, nothing is necessarily done until
his widow (who has remained at home) dies also. When she is buried, her
husband's soul is ceremonially summoned to take up its residence in a
paper scroll bearing the _pa ko tzŭ_ ("eight characters" naming the
year, month, day and hour of birth), and this, with or without a straw
effigy, is formally placed in the grave by the widow's side.
A practical reason for this proceeding at once suggests itself if
it has happened that the couple were childless and were the owners
of property. It then becomes necessary for the elders of the clan to
select an heir; and as an adopted heir--who must be a "spare" son of
a relative--is obliged to separate himself from his own branch of
the clan and to regard the dead man and his wife for the future as
his proper parents, matters must be so arranged that he can become
possessor of his adoptive father's spirit-tablet. As the dead man's
spirit is not supposed to take up its abode in the tablet until he has
been interred with the proper rites in the family graveyard, it is
necessary, if his body is missing, to evoke and inter its spiritual
representative. If this were not done, the adopted heir would be unable
to carry on the ancestral rites except in an irregular way, and this
might lead to serious legal difficulties later on in the event of
another member of the clan disputing the genuineness of the adoption
and heirship.
A point worth noting in connection with ancestral worship and adoption
is that (in this part of China at least) the mere fact of childlessness
does not necessarily lead a man to adopt a son: it is childlessness
combined with the ownership of property that induces him to do so.
We will suppose that a man has obtained his share of the family
inheritance; that it is too small to support him; that he has sold
it to relatives and with the cash proceeds has gone abroad to make a
living; that he returns as an old man, childless and penniless: this
man will in all probability show no desire to adopt a son, nor indeed
is it likely that he could succeed in doing so if he wished it. The
ancestral worship will not suffer by his childless death provided he
has brothers and nephews to perpetuate the family _sacra_. Even if it
happens that he is actually the last of his house and that his death
will bring the ancestral cult of his line to an abrupt conclusion, it
is not likely that, for the sole purpose of carrying on the sacra, the
last of the line will bestir himself to go through the formalities
necessary for the adoption of a son. The fact is that the possession
of property--especially landed property--is regarded in practice as
an inseparable condition of the continuation of the ancestral rites.
This theory is often expressed in the formula _mei-yü ch'an-yeh
mei-yü shên-chu_--"no ancestral property, no ancestral tablets." If
the spirits of the deceased ancestors have been so regardless of the
interests of their descendants that they have allowed the family
property to pass into the hands of strangers, it is thought that
they have only themselves to blame if for them the smoke of incense
no longer curls heavenward from the domestic altars. Indeed, there
is a vague idea that as the family line dwindles and finally becomes
extinct on the material plane, so on the spiritual plane the ancestral
ghosts gradually fade away either into non-existence or into a state of
Nirvana-like quiescence.
A childless old man who has property is in China, as in the West,
the object of the most tender solicitude on the part of brothers and
cousins with large families. They are continually impressing upon him
the gravity of his offence in not providing for the succession and
for the suitable disposal of his property, and unceasingly urge the
claims of this nephew or that to formal adoption. If the old man has
chosen a boy or young man for whom he happens to have affection, and if
the choice meets with general approval, then every one is happy, and
an adoption deed is drawn up and attested by all the near relatives.
But if his choice falls on one who is considered to be too distant a
connection for adoption, or if the elders of the clan for some other
reason object to the proposal, then the old man is in a difficulty,
for he is not entirely a free agent in the matter. He might get an
adoption deed drawn up without consulting any one, but if it were not
properly attested by his relatives it would be treated by them as null
and void. Adoption, no less than the sale of land, is an affair not of
the individual but of the family.
Disputes of this kind are the not infrequent cause of lawsuits. An old
man once complained before me that though the youth he wished to adopt
belonged to the proper generation (that is, the generation immediately
junior to that of the adopter) and was not an only son, and though both
the youth and his father had agreed to the adoption, yet the other
relatives had held aloof when they were invited to sign the adoption
deed, and had absolutely refused to take any part in the proceedings.
This implied, of course, that when the time came they would refuse to
recognise the legality of the adoption. He therefore besought me to
compel or persuade the obstinate relatives to come to a more reasonable
frame of mind. "I am now eighty-one years old"--so ran the preamble of
his petition--"and I do not know how long I have to live. When morning
dawns I cannot be sure that I shall see the evening; in another day my
eyes may be closed for ever; and if I die with the bitter knowledge
that for me there will be no ancestral sacrifices, then, indeed,
miserable shall I be down in the Yellow Springs [of death]." It is of
course impossible to decide such cases without taking into full account
the nature of the objections raised by the relatives: they are often
selfish, but as a rule they are not baseless or frivolous.
Ancestral spirits are regarded as beneficent beings who never
causelessly use their mysterious powers to injure the living; but if
their descendants lead evil lives, or neglect the family sacrifices,
or treat the sacred rules of filial piety with contempt, then the
spirits will in all probability exercise the parental prerogatives
of punishment. The power of a father in China to castigate his son
is theoretically as absolute in the case of a grown-up son as in the
case of one who is still a child: similarly it is supposed that the
father does not, by the mere accident of death, divest himself of his
patriarchal rights of administering justice and inflicting punishment
on his sons and grandsons. Provided a man carefully observes the
traditional ceremonies and leads a good life according to the accepted
ethics of his race, he knows that he has nothing to fear from the souls
of his ancestors.
But there are in China various classes of ghosts who are supposed to be
highly malevolent and to constitute no small danger to the community.
There are, for example, the ghosts whose tempers have been soured by
calamity and misfortune; those whose bodies have not been buried;
those who were drowned at sea; those who ended their mortal lives by
unjustifiable suicide and haunt the place where they died until they
can, by ghostly suggestions, prevail on one of their earthly neighbours
to follow their example;[227] those who died before accomplishing a vow
or completing an act of vengeance: these and many others are ghosts or
evil spirits which the wise man who walks warily through life will do
his best to avoid.
The curious and cruel superstition which sometimes prevents a Chinese
from helping a drowning comrade even when he could save the man without
danger to himself has its origin in a fear that he will incur the
deadly hostility of a spirit that demands the toll of a human life.
It is even thought in some places that by saving your friend you may
be condemning yourself to be his future substitute. This superstition
has existed in many parts of the world--from Ireland to the Solomon
Islands.[228] It need hardly be said that educated opinion in China is
altogether opposed to the heartless abandonment of drowning men: the
superstition is an active force only in a few localities, and only to a
minute extent, if at all, may it be said to exist in Weihaiwei.
A vestige of it is possibly to be traced in the fact that "wrecking"
is not regarded as a very serious breach of sound ethics. When British
rule was first established at Weihaiwei pitiful scenes were to be
witnessed during the tempests of winter, when junk after junk was
hurled against the rock-bound coast. No great effort was made to save
human life; indeed, there is reason to believe that men were allowed
to freeze to death on the shore or to be battered to death by the
merciless waves while those who could and should have come to their
rescue actually stepped over their bodies while on the eager search
for remnants of wrecked cargo. All this has been so greatly changed
that storm-driven junks in the Gulf of Chihli have been known to make
deliberately for the coasts of Weihaiwei, their crews believing that
if disaster must come there would be a greater chance of safety for
themselves and less risk of having their cargoes looted on the shores
of British territory than anywhere else along the coast of Shantung.
Two or three of the village headmen have shown great loyalty in
accepting and carrying out British policy in this matter, and have been
personally instrumental in saving numbers of lives and in helping the
crews of wrecked junks to salve their cargoes and to repair the damage
done to their vessels. The headman who has shown himself most energetic
in this good work deserves special mention. He is Ch'ê Shuo-hsüeh, the
district headman of Hai-hsi-t'ou. To him the Government of Weihaiwei
has presented a _pien_ or carved complimentary tablet.[229] The
inscription reads _Chêng jên yü wei_--"Human lives rescued from peril."
Tablets of this kind when presented by the official authorities are
highly valued by the Chinese, and are preserved as heirlooms.
[Illustration: A WRECKED JUNK.]
[Illustration: A JUNK ASHORE.]
But the spirits that drag men into the waters of a river or down to
Lung Wang's palace in the depths of ocean at least make a practice of
confining their activity to their chosen element. Far more dangerous
are the gloomy homeless souls that stalk the country fields and prowl
round villages, always on the look-out for victims and always ready
to deceive the ignorant. There are terrible vampires and devil-foxes
that throw mists over men's eyes and minds and make them believe
they see before them damsels of bewitching beauty. It is difficult
indeed to save any one who has once passed under the dominion of a
fox-wife: he is a doomed man. A prevalent belief on the subject of
ghosts and goblins and evil spirits is based on a kind of theory of
predestination. The man who is fated not to be bothered by such beings
will escape them; he who is fated to be their prey cannot by any
possibility avoid them. The Chinese popular saying puts it more neatly:
"He who is born lucky can laugh at demons; the unlucky wight becomes
the demon's plaything."
The Weihaiwei Annals tell a story of a man who must have been born
lucky. His name was Kuo and he belonged to Ch'in Ts'un, a village
that lies a few miles from Port Edward. One evening he was returning
from the sea-side with a load of fish. On the way he met a ghost, who
pressed Kuo to allow him to carry his load. Kuo, not in the least
dismayed, congratulated himself on a welcome relief and promptly
placed his burden on the ghost's shoulders. Man and ghost trudged along
contentedly side by side for some distance, but on arriving at Ch'in
Ts'un the dogs began to bark, and the ghost, thinking this was no place
for him, suggested that he must say good-bye. Kuo refused to hear of
such a thing and insisted that the ghost should accompany him home
and share his evening meal. On reaching home Kuo asked his unearthly
visitor to sit down, and ordered his wife and child to set about
getting supper ready. When the water was boiling he furtively threw
into the cooking-pot some fragments of decayed wood and an old nail.
The whole party, including the ghost, enjoyed a hearty meal, and when
it was over the ghost took his leave without having done the least harm
to any one.
"If men are not afraid of ghosts," adds the Weihaiwei chronicler,
"ghosts will not be able to do them any injury. When this story
is attentively considered the truth of that statement will become
increasingly evident." But he tells the story with perhaps the
suggestion of a twinkle in his eye: for in the course of the narrative
he interjects the remark, to which he adds no comment, that Kuo's
besetting weakness was strong drink. It is remarkable that he offers
no explanation of Kuo's action in throwing pieces of decayed wood and
a nail into the cooking-pot, though this was just where Kuo showed
his cunning. To put rotten wood and old iron into one's porridge will
appear a meaningless rite to the uninstructed. It is a practical
illustration of a popular Chinese belief that marvellous efficacy
in destroying the evil influences of ghosts and demons and other
ill-omened beings is inherent in rotten wood and nails taken from
_old coffin-boards_ which have been actually used for the burial of
a corpse. Kuo's rotten wood was--though the chronicler leaves that
important point to his reader's intelligence--wood that had once
formed part of a coffin.[230] This little story shows conclusively
that though in Europe if one sups with the devil one must use a long
spoon, in Weihaiwei one wants nothing more than a piece of coffin-wood
and an old nail.
As it is no one's special business to propitiate malevolent spirits,
the obligation is one that is understood to rest with the Government.
Among the numerous religious duties of the district-magistrates is
that of quieting the evil propensities of all bad ghosts or spirits.
In the district-city of Jung-ch'êng, for instance, among the altars at
which official rites must periodically take place is one called the _Li
T'an_, a phrase which may be translated as an Altar to Evil Spirits.
Three times a year--namely at the three great festivals of the Dead or
Souls' Days[231]--the district-magistrate and other local officials
attired in ceremonial robes proceed to the _Li T'an_ and there offer up
sacrifices of propitiation to all harmful spirits. The process consists
in issuing to all homeless and tablet-less ghosts a solemn invitation
to a banquet. The viands provided are three sheep, three pigs, three
measures of grain and an indefinite quantity of paper-money. All this
is supposed to satiate or pacify the spirits so that they cease to do
harm to mankind at least until the arrival of the next sacrificial
festival.
In China, as in Europe, there are various strange beliefs connected
with the mysterious powers supposed to be inherent in corpses. As soon
as a man or woman is dead the family take care that no dogs or cats
(especially cats) shall be allowed into the mortuary chamber, as it is
believed that so long as the coffin has not been closed the approach
of one of these animals will cause the corpse to jump. This is a
well-known superstition in Weihaiwei; and from De Groot's work, which
deals more particularly with a portion of the southern province of
Fuhkien, it may be gathered that it exists in other parts of the Empire
also.[232] De Groot (who mentions cats only, not dogs) accounts for
the idea by referring it to the domain of tiger-lore. Each member of
the feline race, he says, is supposed to have on its tail a miraculous
hair, which has the power of bringing the soul back to any human body
from which it had already departed. But why should this be objected
to, seeing that, as De Groot has himself pointed out, the main object
of the tearless howling at Chinese funerals, which has so often rather
unjustly excited the ridicule of Europeans, is to call back the soul of
the departed?
The explanation that has been given me in Weihaiwei, with regard to
the cat and dog superstition, is that the hair or fur of these animals
(especially that of the cat) contains so much "lightning" (electricity)
that the corpse is liable to be galvanised by it into an uncanny though
only temporary activity. Whatever the true explanation may be, it is
interesting to note that here we have one more of those very numerous
fragments of folk-lore that connect the far East with the far West.
In the Orkneys and Shetlands, when a death has taken place and the
corpse has been laid out, _all cats are locked up_.[233] It would be
interesting to know what the local explanation of the custom is in that
corner of the British Isles. Similar beliefs as to the malign influence
of cats on corpses exist in the Border country. On the Scottish side
it is believed to be so unlucky for a dog or cat to pass over a corpse
that the poor animal, if it has been seen doing so, is--or used to
be--killed without mercy.[234] Mr. G. L. Gomme, who cites this Scottish
superstition from Pennant, states that the same belief is to be found
in Northumberland. "In one case," he says, "just as a funeral was
about to leave the house, the cat jumped over the coffin, and no one
would move till the cat was destroyed."[235] A dog, too, was killed on
another occasion for a similar reason. That there is a close connection
between cats and evil spirits may be taken as one of the elementary
doctrines of "black magic," both in China and in Europe;[236] but
popular antipathy to the unfortunate animal on this account has
never become so intense in China as at one time it became in Europe,
where--in Paris and other places--cats used to be burned alive in
bonfires.[237]
Among other superstitions connected with corpses may be mentioned that
relating to mirrors, though in Weihaiwei it is very nearly extinct.
In many parts of China, when a death occurs all mirrors in the house
are immediately covered up. One explanation of the custom is that if
the dead man happens to notice a reflection of himself in the glass he
will be much horrified to find that he has become a ghost, and much
disappointed with his own appearance as such. Another explanation is
that every mirror has a mysterious faculty of invisibly retaining
and storing up everything that is reflected on its surface, and that
if anything so ill-omened as a corpse or a ghost were to pass before
it, the mirror would thenceforth become a permanent radiator of bad
luck. In some Chinese households mirrors are covered up or turned
upside-down, not only when a corpse is in the house, but after sundown
every day: for it is thought that evil spirits and other unlucky
influences are free at night to wander whither they will, and that
if they pass in front of a mirror that is not covered, that mirror
will become a source of danger and unhappiness to the family that
owns it. The mirror superstition, like that of cats, is not confined
to China. In Orkney and Shetland, when a death occurs, not only are
all cats locked up, as already mentioned, but covers are put over
all looking-glasses.[238] The same custom exists on the Scottish
mainland[239] and also in many other parts of Europe, including
England, Belgium and Germany; and it is also to be found in Madagascar
and in India.[240]
But the cat and mirror notions sink into insignificance when we
contemplate another corpse-superstition to be found at Weihaiwei and
in other parts of China: a superstition of so extraordinary a nature
that it is almost certain to be received with incredulity by all who
are not in a position personally to verify the fact of its existence.
It is said that when a death has occurred the face of the corpse and
all other exposed parts (such as the hands) should be carefully covered
with a cloth, in order to prevent the tears of the mourners from
coming in contact with the dead man's flesh. To make doubly sure, it
is considered advisable for the mourners not to weep over the corpse,
but at some little distance from it. If these precautions are neglected
and tears do by some chance fall on the corpse, and if this happens
on an "unlucky"[241] day, the results may be disastrous, not only to
the family chiefly concerned, but also to the whole population of the
district. The tears, it is said, find their way through the dead man's
skin into his heart, where they are liable to create in him a kind of
quasi-vitality long after he has been consigned to his grave. On his
body will grow wings and white feathers, and though he remain in his
grave he is able to use these feathers and wings with extraordinary
effect. Just as he absorbed the tear-drops of his weeping friends, so
he is supposed to attract to his own grave all the moisture that should
be distributed in the form of rain over the whole country round, and by
moving his wings to and fro he so fans the clouds that no rain descends
except on his own grave. Some say that the horrible feathered creature
is able to leave his grave at night and fly through the neighbourhood
in the terrible guise of a malevolent demon. If he knocks at a door, it
is believed that one of the inmates of the house is doomed to a speedy
death.[242] If the locality is visited by a prolonged drought and the
usual official prayers have been unavailing, the people petition the
magistrate to send out his runners to inspect all the graveyards of the
neighbourhood.
As soon as they have found one on which the soil is soft and moist
while all the surrounding grass-mounds are parched and brown, this is
regarded as a proof that a _han-pa_ (such is the technical name of
the feathered corpse) lies in that spot. The wet grave has no sooner
been discovered than the magistrate or some person authorised by him
leads thither a crowd of the local people armed with brooms[243] and
hooks. The coffin is exhumed and the lid opened. No sooner is this
done than all the bystanders rush forward with their weapons to strike
down the corpse or to trip him up or hook him if he attempts to run
or fly away: for this, according to the story, is what the _han-pa_
always tries to do. As soon as he has been carefully secured and
recoffined, the dreaded _han-pa_ is placed on a heap of firewood and
burned to ashes. Copious rain is certain to fall the same evening or
the following day. Faith in this remarkable superstition seems to be
well rooted in Weihaiwei. One of my informants, himself a believer,
expressed amazement at hearing that no such notions existed in England.
On being asked why it was considered necessary to open the coffin-lid,
he said it was to enable the relatives of the dead man to see for
themselves that the corpse really was a _han-pa_, and that there was
no alternative but to burn it: otherwise they might feel that their
dead relative had been grievously maligned and his remains treated with
unpardonable disrespect. "What happens," I asked, "when the dead man
turns out to be just an ordinary corpse?" "But that could never be,"
was the decisive answer. "The moist grave in a time of drought is an
infallible sign of a _han-pa_. There can be no mistake."
I have described this superstition as it exists at Weihaiwei, but it
is by no means confined to that locality. The word _han-pa_ means
"demon of drought," and the earliest mention of it in extant Chinese
literature is in the beautiful hymn of King Hsüan, preserved in the
Book of Poetry (_Shih Ching_) edited by Confucius.[244] It is there
mentioned as being the cause of a great drought that appears to have
occurred about the year 821 B.C. The drought-demon is also referred
to in the _Shan Hai Ching_, a curious quasi-geographical work of
disputed date. A certain Taoist Book of Marvels tells us that "in the
southern regions there is a man-like creature two or three feet high,
with a naked body and an eye on the top of its head. It moves with the
swiftness of wind, and wherever it is seen a calamitous drought is sure
to occur. It is called _pa_."[245] From none of these authorities do we
gather that there was any connection between the drought-demon and a
human corpse over which tears had been shed. Wang Ch'ung (first century
A.D.) writes of "flying corpses" (_fei shih_),[246] but this does not
bring us much further. How the superstition as it at present exists
grew up is far from clear, and it seems likely that it represents a
coalescence of several beliefs that were once quite separate. De Groot
discusses the subject with his usual thoroughness,[247] though he does
not appear to have come across the superstition in the form in which it
is known at Weihaiwei.
It might well be supposed that in the _han-pa_, if in nothing else,
we have come across a piece of Chinese folk-lore that has no parallel
in Europe; but perhaps our supposition would be unwarrantably hasty. I
find that in the Highlands of Scotland "it was thought wrong to weep,
lest the tears should hurt the dead."[248] Then again there is, or
was, an English superstition against the use of certain feathers in
feather-beds and pillows. The feathers of the domestic fowl, goose,
pigeon, partridge, and sometimes those of wild birds generally, were
tabooed.[249] No reason has been given so far as I know for this
singular and apparently senseless idea, any more than for the Highland
notion that tears were hurtful to the dead. It may be far-fetched to
suppose on the strength of these old wives' tales that the shedding
of tears over corpses was once believed by our own remote ancestors
to turn dead men into feathered demons like the Chinese _han-pa_; but
perhaps it might appear less unlikely that there is some extremely
ancient and now forgotten connection between the British and the
Chinese superstitions if we were able to find some traces of similar
beliefs in the intervening countries of Europe or Asia.
For long I despaired of finding anything that might be regarded as a
missing link; but Bohemia is the country that seems to have supplied it
at last. The following letter will show that in Europe, as well as in
Far Cathay, there still exists in our own generation the remnant of a
belief that drought may in certain circumstances be caused by a human
corpse, and that such a corpse is in some mysterious way associated
with feathers.
"In the Bohemian village of Metschin," says a writer in
_Folk-lore_,[250] "the body of the schoolmaster, who was buried early
in May amid many marks of respect from the inhabitants, is to be
exhumed. There, as elsewhere, a great drought prevails, and the story
has got about that a cushion with feathers was put under his head.
Nine-tenths of the population believe that this is the cause of the
drought, hence the proposal to exhume him and remove the cushion,
which is in reality filled with hay. Is this case parallel to the
prejudice against the feathers of certain birds in beds and pillows,
or is there some special connection between feathers and rain? More
particularly in Australia feathers and hair are associated with
rainmaking."
It will be noticed that in China the drought-causing demon grows the
feathers on its own body, whereas in Bohemia it merely lies on a
feathered pillow. That the two beliefs had a common origin, and that
the two British superstitions already cited may be connected with them,
will not, perhaps, be regarded as altogether beyond the bounds of
possibility.
FOOTNOTES:
[213] See pp. 262 _seq._
[214] _The Religious System of China_, vol. i. p. 212. For full details
as to the procedure at Chinese funerals and the religious ceremonies
connected therewith, the reader is referred to Dr. De Groot's
monumental work, which deals minutely with this and kindred subjects.
[215] See p. 263. Needless to say, the ancestral temples of great or
wealthy families are on a very much grander scale.
[216] See p. 256.
[217] Instead of red ink it is in some parts of China customary to use
blood extracted from a cock's comb. For an explanation of this, and for
a full description of the ceremony of dotting the tablet, see De Groot,
_op. cit._ vol. i. pp. 214-19.
[218] See illustration.
[219] The terms used are honorific.
[220] That is, the eldest son of his father.
[221] See illustration facing next page, and that facing p. 278.
[222] _Op. cit._ vol. i. p. 114.
[223] We may smile at Chinese simplicity in such matters, but exactly
the same ideas have existed in the West. "A woman in our parish,"
writes a resident in Wiltshire, "had her leg amputated and got a little
coffin made for it. She caused it to be buried in the churchyard"--with
the view of joining it there at some future day. Many similar cases
have been observed in Ireland, and doubtless in many other parts of
western Europe. (See _Folk-lore_, March 1907, pp. 82-3, and June 1907,
p. 216.)
[224] De Groot, _op. cit._ vol. iii. p. 848.
[225] De Groot, _loc. cit._ p. 849.
[226] De Groot, _loc. cit._ p. 854. The punishment under the Penal Code
for opening a grave and exposing the corpse is strangulation (subject
to confirmation).
[227] See p. 222.
[228] See Grant Allen's _Evolution of the Idea of God_ (pp. 265-7);
Tylor's _Primitive Culture_ (4th ed.), vol. i. pp. 108-11; W. G.
Black's _Folk-Medicine_, p. 29; and Dennys's _Folk-lore of China_,
p. 22. The superstition sometimes takes the form of a belief that
the rescued man will some day do some terrible injury to his
rescuer--perhaps at the instigation of the evil spirit who was balked
of his prey. It is quite erroneous to suppose that this superstitious
objection to saving the drowning is prevalent throughout all China. De
Groot (_op. cit._ vol. v. p. 526) states that he never found a trace
of it in the province of Fuhkien; "while, moreover, all the Chinese we
interrogated on this head protested against their humanity being thus
called in question."
[229] For the headman in question and his _pien_, see illustration.
[230] For an account of the popular belief with regard to old
coffin-wood and nails, see De Groot, _op. cit._ vol. i, pp. 328-9. See
also Doolittle's _Social Life of the Chinese_, p. 561; and Dennys's
_Folk-lore of China_ (p. 48), where it is said that "a nail that has
been used in fastening up a coffin is a sovereign charm. This is
sometimes beaten out into a rod or wire and, encased in silver, worn
as a ring round the ankles or wrists." It is very curious that even in
this matter of coffin-nails we can trace a close connection between
Chinese and Western European folk-lore. In the Shetland Islands (which
seem to possess many remarkable parallels with Chinese folk-lore) it is
said that toothache can be cured by picking the tooth "with the nail
of an old coffin." (_Folk-lore Journal_, vol. iii. p. 380.) In parts
of Yorkshire it was once the custom to take some coffin-lead or other
coffin-metal from a churchyard and have it made into a ring; it then
became a cure for cramp. (_County Folk-lore_, vol. ii. [North Riding of
Yorkshire] p. 171.) Similar beliefs existed elsewhere in England--in
Devonshire, for example. (See W. G. Black's _Folk-Medicine_, p. 175.)
It may be noted here that a thoroughly "orthodox" coffin in China is
supposed to have no nails at all, or as few as possible. The various
planks are fitted into grooves and notches with the deliberate
intention of avoiding the necessity of nails. This doctrine is well
understood at Weihaiwei and followed there as far as practicable. The
explanation of the nailless coffin given by De Groot is that it dates
from a period in extreme antiquity _when iron was unknown_. The form
of coffin that was adopted in a primitive age from necessity is used
in modern times from a spirit of conservatism, or from reverence for a
custom that time has sanctified. (_See_ De Groot, _op. cit._ vol. i.
pp. 95 and 286-7.) In Weihaiwei and many other places a single nail
_which serves no practical purpose_ is driven in (only far enough to
make it immobile) on one side of the coffin-lid, and this nail is
decorated with parti-coloured threads. The people of Weihaiwei seem to
have no explanation of this custom, but it is evidently a kind of charm
to bring wealth, happiness and an ample progeny to the family. The
charm is based on a play on the word _ting_, "nail," which also means
_a man_, or _male offspring_. As the nail (_ting_) is driven into the
parent's coffin, so, it is thought, will there always be males (_ting_)
to carry on the family; and as these five-coloured threads are wound
round the nail, so will wealth, prosperity, honours, long life and many
children be the portion of the sons of the family for all time to come.
[231] See p. 192.
[232] De Groot, _op. cit._ vol. i. pp. 43-4; vol. v. p. 750. See also
Dennys's _Folk-lore of China_, p. 20.
[233] _County Folk-lore_, vol. iii. (Orkney and Shetland), p. 216.
[234] Pennant's _Tour in Scotland_. See also Brand's _Antiquities_,
vol. ii. p. 233.
[235] G. L. Gomme's _Folk-lore Relics of Early Village Life_, p. 116.
I cannot agree with Mr. Gomme's interpretation of the superstition.
He regards it as connected with the "primitive hearth sacrifice." The
Chinese parallels seem to have been unknown to him.
[236] For China, see Dennys's _Folk-lore of China_, pp. 48, 90-91.
[237] See Frazer's _Golden Bough_ (2nd ed.), vol. iii. pp. 324 _seq._
[238] _County Folk-lore_, vol. iii. (Orkney and Shetland), p. 216.
[239] _Folk-lore Journal_, vol, ii. p. 281.
[240] Frazer's _Golden Bough_ (2nd ed.), vol. iii. pp. 294 _seq._
[241] Every day in the Chinese calendar is either lucky, unlucky, or
indifferent; and very many people will undertake no duty or work of
importance until they have consulted the fortune-telling almanac (a
new one is issued for each year), or have at least consulted temple
oracles. The Jewish Sabbath is now believed to have originated in a
similar superstition.
[242] Cf. the Irish and Scottish banshee.
[243] All evil demons are supposed to be afraid of brooms. See p. 190
(note).
[244] See Legge's _Chinese Classics_, vol. iv. pt. ii. p. 532. The
passage referred to is translated by Legge thus: "The demon of drought
[_han-pa_] exercises his oppression, as if scattering flames and fire."
[245] This passage is quoted in the K'ang Hsi dictionary, s.v. _Pa_.
[246] _Lun Hêng_, transl. by Forke, pt. i. p. 243.
[247] _Op. cit._ vol. v. pp. 516-20, 761. For remarks on human spectres
in the shape of birds, see vol. v. pp. 634 _seq._ For a reference to
the spectres known in Europe as Vampires, see vol. v. p. 747 _seq._ For
evidence as to the supposed existence of vampires and grave-demons in
the Malay States, see Skeat's _Malay Magic_, pp. 103 and 327.
[248] _Folk-lore Journal_, vol. ii. (1884), p. 281.
[249] _Folk-lore_, September 1900, p. 243.
[250] Mädi Braitmaier in _Folk-lore_, December 1900, p. 437.