are each believed by the Chinese to be under the sway of a ruler
holding his commission from and responsible to the one Supreme Power
or God, fully in accordance with the general scheme of supernatural
Government accepted in other and less civilized communities.
XLI.
TA-NAN IN SEARCH OF HIS FATHER.
Hsi Ch‘êng-lieh was a Ch‘êng-tu man. He had a wife and a concubine,
the latter named Ho Chao-jung. His wife dying, he took a second by
name Shên, who bullied the concubine dreadfully, and by her constant
wrangling made his life perfectly unbearable, so that one day in a fit
of anger he ran away and left them. Shortly afterwards Ho gave birth
to a son, and called him Ta-nan; but as Hsi did not return, the wife
Shên turned them out of the house, making them a daily allowance of
food. By degrees Ta-nan became a big boy; and his mother, not daring
to ask for an increase of victuals, was obliged to earn a little money
by spinning. Meanwhile, Ta-nan, seeing all his companions go to school
and learn to read, told his mother he should like to go too; and
accordingly, as he was still very young, she sent him for a few days’
probation. He turned out to be so clever that he soon beat the other
boys; at which the master of the school was much pleased, and offered
to teach him for nothing.[236] His mother, therefore, sent him
regularly, making what trifling presents she could to the master; and
by the end of two or three years he had a first-rate knowledge of the
Sacred Books.[237] One day he came home and asked his mother, saying,
“All the fellows at our school get money from their fathers to buy
cakes. Why don’t I?” “Wait till you are grown up,” replied his
mother, “and I will explain it to you.” “Why, mother,” cried he, “I’m
only seven or eight years old. What a time it will be before I’m grown
up.” “Whenever you pass the temple of the God of War on your way to
school,” said his mother, “you should go in and pray awhile; that
would make you grow faster.” Ta-nan believed she was serious; and
every day, going and coming, he went in and worshipped at that temple.
When his mother found this out, she asked him how soon he was praying
to be grown up; to which he replied that he only prayed that by the
following year he might be as big as if he were fifteen or sixteen
years old. His mother laughed; but Ta-nan went on, increasing in
wisdom and stature alike, until by the time he was ten, he looked
quite thirteen or fourteen, and his master was no longer able to
correct his essays. Then he said to his mother, “You promised me that
when I grew up you would tell me where my father is. Tell me now.”
“By-and-by, by-and-by,” replied his mother; so he waited another year,
and then pressed her so eagerly to tell him that she could no longer
refuse, and related to him the whole story. He heard her recital with
tears and lamentations, and expressed a wish to go in search of his
father; but his mother objected that he was too young, and also that
no one knew where his father was. Ta-nan said nothing; however, in the
middle of the day he did not come home as usual, and his mother at
once sent off to the school, where she found he had not shewn himself
since breakfast. In great alarm, and thinking that he had been playing
truant, she paid some people to go and hunt for him everywhere, but
was unable to obtain the slightest clue to his whereabouts. As to
Ta-nan himself, when he left the house he followed the road without
knowing whither he was going, until at length he met a man who was on
his way to K‘uei-chou, and said his name was Ch‘ien. Ta-nan begged of
him something to eat, and went along with him; Mr. Ch‘ien even
procuring an animal for him to ride because he walked too slowly. The
expenses of the journey were all defrayed by Ch‘ien; and when they
arrived at K‘uei-chou they dined together, Ch‘ien secretly putting
some drug in Ta-nan’s food which soon reduced him to a state of
unconsciousness. Ch‘ien then carried him off to a temple, and,
pretending that Ta-nan was his son, offered him to the priests[238] on
the plea that he had no money to continue his journey. The priests,
seeing what a nice-looking boy he was, were only too ready to buy him;
and when Ch‘ien had got his money he went away. They then gave Ta-nan
a draught which brought him round; but as soon as the abbot heard of
the affair and saw Ta-nan himself, he would not allow them to keep
him, sending him away with a purse of money in his pocket. Ta-nan next
met a gentleman named Chiang, from Lu-chou, who was returning home
after having failed at the examination; and this Mr. Chiang was so
pleased with the story of his filial piety that he took him to his own
home at Lu-chou. There he remained for a month and more, asking
everybody he saw for news of his father, until one day he was told
that there was a man named Hsi among the Fokien traders. So he bade
good-by to Mr. Chiang, and set off for Fokien, his patron providing
him with clothes and shoes, and the people of the place making up a
subscription for him. On the road he met two traders in cotton cloth
who were going to Fu-ch‘ing, and he joined their party; but they had
not travelled many stages before these men found out that he had
money, and taking him to a lonely spot, bound him hand and foot and
made off with all he had. Before long a Mr. Ch‘ên, of Yung-fu,
happened to pass by, and at once unbound him, and giving him a seat in
one of his own vehicles, carried him off home. This Mr. Ch‘ên was a
wealthy man, and in his house Ta-nan had opportunities of meeting with
traders from all quarters. He therefore begged them to aid him by
making inquiries about his father, himself remaining as a fellow
student with Mr. Ch‘ên’s sons, and roaming the country no more,
neither hearing any news of his former and now distant home.
Meanwhile, his mother, Ho, had lived alone for three or four years,
until the wife, Shên, wishing to reduce the expenses, tried to
persuade her to find another husband. As Ho was now supporting
herself, she steadfastly refused to do this; and then Shên sold her to
a Chung-ch‘ing trader, who took her away with him. However, she so
frightened this man by hacking herself about with a knife, that when
the wounds were healed he was only too happy to get rid of her to a
trader from Yen-t‘ing, who in his turn, after Ho had nearly
disembowelled herself, readily listened to her repeated cries that
she wished to become a nun. However, he persuaded her to hire herself
out as housekeeper to a friend of his, as a means of reimbursing
himself for his outlay in purchasing her; but no sooner had she set
eyes on the gentleman in question than she found it was her own
husband. For Hsi had given up the career of a scholar, and gone into
business; and as he had no wife, he was consequently in want of a
housekeeper. They were very glad to see each other again; and on
relating their several adventures, Hsi knew for the first time that he
had a son who had gone forth in search of his father. Hsi then asked
all the traders and commercial travellers to keep a look out for
Ta-nan, at the same time raising Ho from the status of concubine to
that of wife. In consequence, however, of the many hardships Ho had
gone through, her health was anything but good, and she was unable to
do the work of the house; so she advised her husband to buy a
concubine. This he was most unwilling to do, remembering too well the
former squabbling he had to endure; but ultimately he yielded, asked a
friend to buy for him an oldish woman--at any rate more than thirty
years of age. A few months afterwards his friend arrived, bringing
with him a person of about that age; and on looking closely at her,
Hsi saw that she was no other than his own wife Shên!
Now this lady had lived by herself for a year and more when her
brother Pao advised her to marry again, which she accordingly agreed
to do. She was prevented, however, by the younger branches of the
family from selling the landed property; but she disposed of
everything else, and the proceeds passed into her brother’s hands.
About that time a Pao-ning trader, hearing that she had plenty of
money, bribed her brother to marry her to himself; and afterwards,
finding that she was a disagreeable woman, took possession of
everything she had, and advertised her for sale. No one caring to buy
a woman of her age, and her master being on the eve of starting for
K‘uei-chou, took her with him, finally getting rid of her to Hsi, who
was in the same line of business as himself. When she stood before her
former husband, she was overwhelmed with shame and fear, and had not a
word to say; but Hsi gathered an outline of what had happened from the
trader, and then said to her, “Your second marriage with this Pao-ning
gentleman was doubtless contracted after you had given up all hope of
seeing me again. It doesn’t matter in the least, as now I am not in
search of a wife but only of a concubine. So you had better begin by
paying your respects to your mistress here, my wife Ho Chao-jung.”
Shên was ashamed to do this: but Hsi reminded her of the time when she
had been in the wife’s place, and in spite of all Ho’s intercession
insisted that she should do so, stimulating her to obedience by the
smart application of a stick. Shên was therefore compelled to yield,
but at the same time she never tried to gain Ho’s favour, and kept
away from her as much as possible. Ho, on the other hand, treated her
with great consideration, and never took her to task on the
performance of her duties; whilst Hsi himself, whenever he had a
dinner-party, made her wait at table, though Ho often entreated him
to hire a maid.
Now the magistrate at Yen-t‘ing was named Ch‘ên Tsung-ssŭ, and once
when Hsi had some trifling difficulty with one of the neighbours he
was further accused to this official of having forced his wife to
assume the position of concubine. The magistrate, however, refused to
take up the case, to the great satisfaction of Hsi and his wife, who
lauded him to the skies as a virtuous mandarin. A few nights after, at
rather a late hour, the servant knocked at the door, and called out,
“The magistrate has come!” Hsi jumped up in a hurry, and began looking
for his clothes and shoes; but the magistrate was already in the
bedroom without either of them understanding what it all meant: when
suddenly Ho, examining him closely, cried out, “It is my son!” She
then burst into tears, and the magistrate, throwing himself on the
ground, wept with his mother. It seemed he had taken the name of the
gentleman with whom he had lived, and had since entered upon an
official career. That on his way to the capital[239] he had made a
_détour_ and visited his old home, where he heard to his infinite
sorrow that both his mothers had married again; and that his
relatives, finding him already a man of position, had restored to him
the family property, of which he had left some one in charge in the
hope that his father might return. That then he had been appointed to
Yen-t‘ing, but had wished to throw up the post and travel in search
of his father, from which design he had been dissuaded by Mr. Ch‘ên.
Also that he had met a fortune-teller from whom he had obtained the
following response to his inquiries:--“The lesser is the greater; the
younger is the elder. Seeking the cock, you find the hen; seeking one,
you get two. Your official life will be successful.” Ch‘ên then took
up his appointment, but not finding his father he confined himself
entirely to a vegetable diet, and gave up the use of wine.[240] The
above-mentioned case had subsequently come under his notice, and
seeing the name Hsi, he quietly sent his private servant to find out,
and thus discovered that this Hsi was his father. At night-fall he set
off himself, and when he saw his mother he knew that the
fortune-teller had told him true. Bidding them all say nothing to
anybody about what had occurred, he provided money for the journey,
and sent them back home. On arriving there, they found the place newly
painted, and with their increased retinue of servants and horses, they
were quite a wealthy family. As to Shên when she found what a great
man Ta-nan had become, she put still more restraint upon herself; but
her brother Pao brought an action for the purpose of reinstating her
as wife. The presiding official happened to be a man of probity, and
delivered the following judgment:--“Greedy of gain you urged your
sister to re-marry. After she had driven Hsi away, she took two fresh
husbands. How have you the face to talk about reinstating her as
wife?” He thereupon ordered Pao to be severely bambooed, and from this
time there was no longer any doubt about Shên’s _status_. She was the
lesser and Ho the greater; and yet in the matter of clothes and food
Ho shewed herself by no means grasping. Shên was at first afraid that
Ho would pay her out, and was consequently more than ever repentant;
and Hsi himself, letting by-gones be by-gones, gave orders that Shên
should be called _madam_ by all alike, though of course she was
excluded from any titles that might be gained for them by Ta-nan.[241]
FOOTNOTES:
[236] This is by no means uncommon. The debt of gratitude between
pupil and teacher is second only to that existing between child and
parent; and a successful student soon has it in his power to more than
repay any such act of kindness as that here mentioned.
[237] Which form the unvarying curriculum of a Chinese education.
These are (1) the _Four Books_, consisting of the teachings of
Confucius and Mencius; and (2) the _Five Canons_ (in the
ecclesiastical sense of the word) or the Canons of Changes, History,
Poetry, the Record of Rites, and Spring and Autumn. The _Four Books_
consist of:--
(1) The Book of Wisdom, attributed by Chu Hi to Confucius. It is a
disquisition upon virtue and the moral elevation of the people.
(2) The _Chung Yung_, or Gospel of Tzŭ Ssŭ (the grandson of Confucius)
wherein the ruling motives of human conduct are traced from their
psychological source.
(3) The Confucian Gospels, being discourses of the Sage with his
disciples on miscellaneous topics.
(4) The Gospels of Mencius.
_The Canon of Changes_ contains a fanciful system of philosophy based
upon the combinations of eight diagrams said to have been copied from
the lines on the back of a tortoise. Ascribed to B.C. 1150.
_The Canon of History_ embraces a period extending from the middle of
the 24th century B.C. to B.C. 721. Was edited by Confucius from then
existing documents.
_The Canon of Poetry_ is a collection of irregular lyrics in vogue
among the people many centuries before the Christian era. Collected
and arranged by Confucius.
_The Record of Rites_ contains a number of rules for the performance
of ceremonies and guidance of individual conduct.
_Spring and Autumn_ consists of the annals of the petty kingdom of Lu
from 722 to 484 B.C. Is the work of Confucius himself.
[238] See No. XXIII., note 154.
[239] To be presented to the Emperor before taking up his post.
[240] Hoping thus to interest Buddha in his behalf.
[241] In accordance with Chinese usage, by which titles of nobility
are often conferred upon the _dead_ parents of a distinguished son.
XLII.
THE WONDERFUL STONE.
In the prefecture of Shun-t‘ien[242] there lived a man named Hsing
Yün-fei, who was an amateur mineralogist and would pay any price for a
good specimen. One day as he was fishing in the river, something
caught his net, and diving down he brought up a stone about a foot in
diameter, beautifully carved on all sides to resemble clustering hills
and peaks. He was quite as pleased with this as if he had found some
precious stone; and having had an elegant sandal-wood stand made for
it, he set his prize upon the table. Whenever it was about to rain,
clouds, which from a distance looked like new cotton wool, would come
forth from each of the holes or grottoes on the stone, and appear to
close them up. By-and-by an influential personage called at the house
and begged to see the stone, immediately seizing it and handing it
over to a lusty servant, at the same time whipping his horse and
riding away. Hsing was in despair; but all he could do was to mourn
the loss of his stone, and indulge his anger against the thief.
Meanwhile, the servant, who had carried off the stone on his back,
stopped to rest at a bridge; when all of a sudden his hand slipped and
the stone fell into the water. His master was extremely put out at
this, and gave him a sound beating; subsequently hiring several
divers, who tried every means in their power to recover the stone, but
were quite unable to find it. He then went away, having first
published a notice of reward, and by these means many were tempted to
seek for the stone. Soon after, Hsing himself came to the spot, and as
he mournfully approached the bank, lo! the water became clear, and he
could see the stone lying at the bottom. Taking off his clothes he
quickly jumped in and brought it out, together with the sandal-wood
stand which was still with it. He carried it off home, but being no
longer desirous of shewing it to people, he had an inner room cleaned
and put it in there. Some time afterwards an old man knocked at the
door and asked to be allowed to see the stone; whereupon Hsing replied
that he had lost it a long time ago. “Isn’t that it in the inner
room?” said the old man, smiling. “Oh, walk in and see for yourself if
you don’t believe me,” answered Hsing; and the old man did walk in,
and there was the stone on the table. This took Hsing very much aback;
and the old man then laid his hand upon the stone and said, “This is
an old family relic of mine: I lost it many months since. How does it
come to be here? I pray you now restore it to me.” Hsing didn’t know
what to say, but declared he was the owner of the stone; upon which
the old man remarked, “If it is really yours, what evidence can you
bring to prove it?” Hsing made no reply; and the old man continued,
“To show you that I know this stone, I may mention that it has
altogether ninety-two grottoes, and that in the largest of these are
five words:--
‘A stone from Heaven above.’”
Hsing looked and found that there were actually some small characters,
no larger than grains of rice, which by straining his eyes a little he
managed to read; also, that the number of grottoes was as the old man
had said. However, he would not give him the stone; and the old man
laughed, and asked, “Pray, what right have you to keep other people’s
things?” He then bowed and went away, Hsing escorting him as far as
the door; but when he returned to the room, the stone had disappeared.
In a great fright, he ran after the old man, who had walked slowly and
was not far off, and seizing his sleeve entreated him to give back the
stone. “Do you think,” said the latter, “that I could conceal a stone
a foot in diameter in my sleeve?” But Hsing knew that he must be
superhuman, and led him back to the house, where he threw himself on
his knees and begged that he might have the stone. “Is it yours or
mine?” asked the old man. “Of course it is yours,” replied Hsing,
“though I hope you will consent to deny yourself the pleasure of
keeping it.” “In that case,” said the old man, “it is back again;” and
going into the inner room, they found the stone in its old place.
“The jewels of this world,” observed Hsing’s visitor, “should be given
to those who know how to take care of them. This stone can choose its
own master, and I am very pleased that it should remain with you; at
the same time I must inform you that it was in too great a hurry to
come into the world of mortals, and has not yet been freed from all
contingent calamities. I had better take it away with me, and three
years hence you shall have it again. If, however, you insist on
keeping it, then your span of life will be shortened by three years,
that your terms of existence may harmonize together. Are you willing?”
Hsing said he was; whereupon the old man with his fingers closed up
three of the stone’s grottoes, which yielded to his touch like mud.
When this was done, he turned to Hsing and told him that the grottoes
on that stone represented the years of his life; and then he took his
leave, firmly refusing to remain any longer, and not disclosing his
name.
More than a year after this, Hsing had occasion to go away on
business, and in the night a thief broke in and carried off the stone,
taking nothing else at all. When Hsing came home, he was dreadfully
grieved, as if his whole object in life was gone; and made all
possible inquiries and efforts to get it back, but without the
slightest result. Some time passed away, when one day going into a
temple Hsing noticed a man selling stones, and amongst the rest he saw
his old friend. Of course he immediately wanted to regain possession
of it; but as the stone-seller would not consent, he shouldered the
stone and went off to the nearest mandarin. The stone-seller was then
asked what proof he could give that the stone was his; and he replied
that the number of grottoes was eighty-nine. Hsing inquired if that
was all he had to say, and when the other acknowledged that it was, he
himself told the magistrate what were the characters inscribed within,
also calling attention to the finger marks at the closed-up grottoes.
He therefore gained his case, and the mandarin would have bambooed the
stone-seller, had he not declared that he bought it in the market for
twenty ounces of silver,--whereupon he was dismissed.
A high official next offered Hsing one hundred ounces of silver for
it; but he refused to sell it even for ten thousand, which so enraged
the would-be purchaser that he worked up a case against Hsing,[243]
and got him put in prison. Hsing was thereby compelled to pawn a great
deal of his property; and then the official sent some one to try if
the affair could not be managed through his son, to which Hsing, on
hearing of the attempt, steadily refused to consent, saying that he
and the stone could not be parted even in death. His wife, however,
and his son, laid their heads together, and sent the stone to the high
official, and Hsing only heard of it when he arrived home from the
prison. He cursed his wife and beat his son, and frequently tried to
make away with himself, though luckily his servants always managed to
prevent him from succeeding.[244] At night he dreamt that a
noble-looking personage appeared to him, and said, “My name is Shih
Ch‘ing-hsü--(Stone from Heaven). Do not grieve. I purposely quitted
you for a year and more; but next year on the 20th of the eighth moon,
at dawn, come to the Hai-tai Gate and buy me back for two strings of
cash.” Hsing was overjoyed at this dream, and carefully took down the
day mentioned. Meanwhile the stone was at the official’s private
house; but as the cloud manifestations ceased, the stone was less and
less prized; and the following year when the official was disgraced
for maladministration and subsequently died, Hsing met some of his
servants at the Hai-tai Gate going off to sell the stone, and
purchased it back from them for two strings of cash.
Hsing lived till he was eighty-nine; and then having prepared the
necessaries for his interment, bade his son bury the stone with
him,[245] which was accordingly done. Six months later robbers broke
into the vault[246] and made off with the stone, and his son tried in
vain to secure their capture; however, a few days afterwards, he was
travelling with his servants, when suddenly two men rushed forth
dripping with perspiration, and looking up into the air, acknowledged
their crime, saying, “Mr. Hsing, please don’t torment us thus! We took
the stone, and sold it for only four ounces of silver.” Hsing’s son
and his servants then seized these men, and took them before the
magistrate, where they at once acknowledged their guilt. Asking what
had become of the stone, they said they had sold it to a member of the
magistrate’s family; and when it was produced, that official took such
a fancy to it that he gave it to one of his servants and bade him
place it in the treasury. Thereupon the stone slipped out of the
servant’s hand and broke into a hundred pieces, to the great
astonishment of all present. The magistrate now had the thieves
bambooed and sent them away; but Hsing’s son picked up the broken
pieces of the stone, and buried them in his father’s grave.
FOOTNOTES:
[242] In which Peking is situated.