pastilles on a certain number of spots, varying from three to twelve,
on the candidate’s head. These are then lighted and allowed to burn
down into the flesh, while the surrounding parts are vigorously rubbed
by attendant priests in order to lessen the pain. The whole thing
lasts about twenty minutes, and is always performed on the eve of
Shâkyamuni Buddha’s birthday. The above was well described by Mr. S.
L. Baldwin in the _Foochow Herald_.
[406] There is a room in most Buddhist temples specially devoted to
this purpose.
[407] The Buddhist emblem of cleanliness; generally a yak’s tail, and
commonly used as a fly-brush.
[408] Tree-worship can hardly be said to exist in China at the present
day; though at a comparatively recent epoch this phase of religious
sentiment must have been widely spread. See _The Flower Nymphs_ and
_Mr. Willow_.
LXXII.
THE WOLF DREAM.
Mr. Pai was a native of Chi-li, and his eldest son was called Chia.
The latter had been some two years holding an appointment[409] as
magistrate in the south; but because of the great distance between
them, his family had heard nothing of him. One day a distant
connection, named Ting, called at the house; and Mr. Pai, not having
seen this gentleman for a long time, treated him with much cordiality.
Now Ting was one of those persons who are occasionally employed by the
Judge of the Infernal Regions to make arrests on earth;[410] and, as
they were chatting together, Mr. Pai questioned him about the realms
below. Ting told him all kinds of strange things, but Pai did not
believe them, answering only by a smile. Some days afterwards, he had
just lain down to sleep when Ting walked in and asked him to go for a
stroll; so they went off together, and by-and-by reached the city.
“There,” said Ting, pointing to a door, “lives your nephew,” alluding
to a son of Mr. Pai’s elder sister, who was a magistrate in Honan; and
when Pai expressed his doubts as to the accuracy of this statement,
Ting led him in, when, lo and behold! there was his nephew, sitting in
his court dressed in his official robes. Around him stood the guard,
and it was impossible to get near him; but Ting remarked that his
son’s residence was not far off, and asked Pai if he would not like to
see him too. The latter assenting, they walked along till they came to
a large building, which Ting said was the place. However, there was a
fierce wolf at the entrance,[411] and Mr. Pai was afraid to go in. Ting
bade him enter, and accordingly they walked in, when they found that
all the employés of the place, some of whom were standing about and
others lying down to sleep, were all wolves. The central pathway was
piled up with whitening bones, and Mr. Pai began to feel horribly
alarmed but Ting kept close to him all the time, and at length they
got safely in. Pai’s son, Chia, was just coming out; and when he saw
his father accompanied by Ting, he was overjoyed, and, asking them to
sit down, bade the attendants serve some refreshment. Thereupon a
great big wolf brought in in his mouth the carcase of a dead man, and
set it before them, at which Mr. Pai rose up in consternation, and
asked his son what this meant. “It’s only a little refreshment for
you, father,” replied Chia; but this did not calm Mr. Pai’s agitation,
who would have retired precipitately, had it not been for the crowd of
wolves which barred the path. Just as he was at a loss what to do,
there was a general stampede among the animals which scurried away,
some under the couches and some under the tables and chairs; and while
he was wondering what the cause of this could be, in marched two
knights in golden armour, who looked sternly at Chia, and, producing a
black rope, proceeded to bind him hand and foot. Chia fell down before
them, and was changed into a tiger with horrid fangs; and then one of
the knights drew a glittering sword and would have cut off its head,
had not the other cried out, “Not yet! not yet! that is for the fourth
month next year. Let us now only take out its teeth.” Immediately that
knight produced a huge mallet, and, with a few blows, scattered the
tiger’s teeth all over the floor, the tiger roaring so loudly with
pain as to shake the very hills, and frightening all the wits out of
Mr. Pai--who woke up with a start. He found he had been dreaming, and
at once sent off to invite Ting to come and see him; but Ting sent
back to say he must beg to be excused. Then Mr. Pai, pondering on what
he had seen in his dream, despatched his second son with a letter to
Chia, full of warnings and good advice; and lo! when his son arrived,
he found that his elder brother had lost all his front teeth, these
having been knocked out, as he averred, by a fall he had had from his
horse when tipsy; and, on comparing dates, the day of that fall was
found to coincide with the day of his father’s dream. The younger
brother was greatly amazed at this, and took out their father’s
letter, which he gave to Chia to read. The latter changed colour, but
immediately asked his brother what there was to be astonished at in
the coincidence of a dream. And just at that time he was busily
engaged in bribing his superiors to put him first on the list for
promotion, so that he soon forgot all about the circumstance; while
the younger, observing what harpies Chia’s subordinates were, taking
presents from one man and using their influence for another, in one
unbroken stream of corruption, sought out his elder brother, and, with
tears in his eyes, implored him to put some check upon their rapacity.
“My brother,” replied Chia, “your life has been passed in an obscure
village; you know nothing of our official routine. We are promoted or
degraded at the will of our superiors, and not by the voice of the
people. He, therefore, who gratifies his superiors is marked out for
success;[412] whereas he who consults the wishes of the people is
unable to gratify his superiors as well.” Chia’s brother saw that his
advice was thrown away; he accordingly returned home and told his
father all that had taken place. The old man was much affected, but
there was nothing that he could do in the matter, so he devoted
himself to assisting the poor, and such acts of charity, daily praying
the Gods that the wicked son alone might suffer for his crimes, and
not entail misery on his innocent wife and children. The next year it
was reported that Chia had been recommended for a post in the Board of
Civil Office,[413] and friends crowded the father’s door, offering
their congratulations upon the happy event. But the old man sighed and
took to his bed, pretending he was too unwell to receive visitors.
Before long another message came, informing them that Chia had fallen
in with bandits while on his way home, and that he and all his retinue
had been killed. Then his father arose and said, “Verily the Gods are
good unto me, for they have visited his sins upon himself alone;” and
he immediately proceeded to burn incense and return thanks. Some of
his friends would have persuaded him that the report was probably
untrue; but the old man had no doubts as to its correctness, and made
haste to get ready his son’s grave. But Chia was not yet dead. In the
fatal fourth moon he had started on his journey and had fallen in with
bandits, to whom he had offered all his money and valuables; upon
which the latter cried out, “We have come to avenge the cruel wrongs
of many hundreds of victims; do you imagine we want only _that_?” They
then cut off his head, and the head of his wicked secretary, and the
heads of several of his servants who had been foremost in carrying
out his shameful orders, and were now accompanying him to the capital.
They then divided the booty between them, and made off with all speed.
Chia’s soul remained near his body for some time, until at length a
high mandarin passing by asked who it was that was lying there dead.
One of his servants replied that he had been a magistrate at such and
such a place, and that his name was Pai. “What!” said the mandarin,
“the son of old Mr. Pai? It is hard that his father should live to see
such sorrow as this. Put his head on again.”[414] Then a man stepped
forward and placed Chia’s head upon his shoulders again, when the
mandarin interrupted him, saying, “A crooked-minded man should not
have a straight body: put his head on sideways.” By-and-by Chia’s soul
returned to its tenement; and when his wife and children arrived to
take away the corpse, they found that he was still breathing. Carrying
him home, they poured some nourishment down his throat, which he was
able to swallow; but there he was at an out-of-the-way place, without
the means of continuing his journey. It was some six months before his
father heard the real state of the case, and then he sent off the
second son to bring his brother home. Chia had indeed come to life
again, but he was able to see down his own back, and was regarded ever
afterwards more as a monstrosity than as a man. Subsequently the
nephew, whom old Mr. Pai had seen sitting in state surrounded by
officials, actually became an Imperial Censor, so that every detail of
the dream was thus strangely realised.[415]
FOOTNOTES:
[409] Literally, “had been allotted the post of Nan-fu magistrate,”
such appointments being always determined by drawing lots.
[410] Such is one common explanation of catalepsy (see No. I., note
40), it being further averred that the proper lictors of the Infernal
regions are unable to remain long in the _light_ of the upper world.
[411] Upon a wall at the entrance to every official residence is
painted a huge fabulous animal, called _Greed_, in such a position
that the resident mandarin must see it every time he goes out of his
front gates. It is to warn him against greed and the crimes that are
sure to flow from it.
[412] Such, indeed, is the case at the present day in China, and
elsewhere.
[413] See No. VII., note 54.
[414] The great sorrow of decapitation as opposed to strangulation is
that the body will appear in the realms below without a head. The
family of any condemned man who may have sufficient means always bribe
the executioner to sew it on again.
[415] This story is an admirable _exposé_ of Chinese official
corruption, as rampant at the present day as ever in the long history
of China.
LXXIII.
THE UNJUST SENTENCE.
Mr. Chu was a native of Yang-ku, and, as a young man, was much given
to playing tricks and talking in a loose kind of way. Having lost his
wife, he went off to ask a certain old woman to arrange another match
for him; and on the way, he chanced to fall in with a neighbour’s wife
who took his fancy very much. So he said in joke to the old woman,
“Get me that stylish-looking, handsome lady, and I shall be quite
satisfied.” “I’ll see what I can do,” replied the old woman, also
joking, “if you will manage to kill her present husband;” upon which
Chu laughed and said he certainly would do so. Now about a month
afterwards, the said husband, who had gone out to collect some money
due to him, was actually killed in a lonely spot; and the magistrate
of the district immediately summoned the neighbours and beadle[416] and
held the usual inquest, but was unable to find any clue to the
murderer. However, the old woman told the story of her conversation
with Chu, and suspicion at once fell upon him. The constables came
and arrested him; but he stoutly denied the charge; and the magistrate
now began to suspect the wife of the murdered man. Accordingly, she
was severely beaten and tortured in several ways until her strength
failed her, and she falsely acknowledged her guilt.[417] Chu was then
examined, and he said, “This delicate woman could not bear the agony
of your tortures; what she has stated is untrue; and, even should her
wrong escape the notice of the Gods, for her to die in this way with a
stain upon her name is more than I can endure. I will tell the whole
truth. I killed the husband that I might secure the wife: she knew
nothing at all about it.” And when the magistrate asked for some
proof, Chu said his bloody clothes would be evidence enough; but when
they sent to search his house, no bloody clothes were forthcoming. He
was then beaten till he fainted; yet when he came round he still stuck
to what he had said. “It is my mother,” cried he, “who will not sign
the death-warrant of her son. Let me go myself and I will get the
clothes.” So he was escorted by a guard to his home, and there he
explained to his mother that whether she gave up or withheld the
clothes, it was all the same; that in either case he would have to
die, and it was better to die early than late. Thereupon his mother
wept bitterly, and going into the bedroom, brought out, after a short
delay, the required clothes, which were taken at once to the
magistrate’s. There was now no doubt as to the truth of Chu’s story;
and as nothing occurred to change the magistrate’s opinion, Chu was
thrown into prison to await the day for his execution. Meanwhile, as
the magistrate was one day inspecting his gaol, suddenly a man
appeared in the hall, who glared at him fiercely and roared out,
“Dull-headed fool! unfit to be the guardian of the people’s
interests!”--whereupon the crowd of servants standing round rushed
forward to seize him, but with one sweep of his arms he laid them all
flat on the ground. The magistrate was frightened out of his wits, and
tried to escape, but the man cried out to him, “I am one of Kuan
Ti’s[418] lieutenants. If you move an inch you are lost.” So the
magistrate stood there, shaking from head to foot with fear, while his
visitor continued, “The murderer is Kung Piao: Chu had nothing to do
with it.”
The lieutenant then fell down on the ground, and was to all appearance
lifeless; however, after a while he recovered, his face having quite
changed, and when they asked him his name, lo! it was Kung Piao. Under
the application of the bamboo he confessed his guilt. Always an
unprincipled man, he had heard that the murdered man was going out to
collect money, and thinking he would be sure to bring it back with
him, he had killed him, but had found nothing. Then when he learnt
that Chu had acknowledged the crime as his own doing, he had rejoiced
in secret at such a stroke of luck. How he had got into the
magistrate’s hall he was quite unable to say. The magistrate now
called for some explanation of Chu’s bloody clothes, which Chu himself
was unable to give; but his mother, who was at once sent for, stated
that she had cut her own arm to stain them, and when they examined her
they found on her left arm the scar of a recent wound. The magistrate
was lost in amazement at all this; unfortunately for him the reversal
of his sentence cost him his appointment, and he died in poverty,
unable to find his way home. As for Chu, the widow of the murdered man
married him[419] in the following year, out of gratitude for his noble
behaviour.
FOOTNOTES:
[416] See No. LXIV., note 373.
[417] Such has, doubtless, been the occasional result of torture in
China; but the singular keenness of the mandarins, as a body, in
recognising the innocent and detecting the guilty,--that is, when
their own avaricious interests are not involved,--makes this
contingency so rare as to be almost unknown. A good instance came
under my own notice at Swatow in 1876. For years a Chinese servant had
been employed at the foreign Custom House to carry a certain sum of
money every week to the bank, and at length his honesty was above
suspicion. On the occasion to which I allude he had been sent as usual
with the bag of dollars, but after a short absence he rushed back with
a frightful gash on his right arm, evidently inflicted by a heavy
chopper, and laying the bone bare. The money was gone. He said he had
been invited into a tea-house by a couple of soldiers whom he could
point out; that they had tried to wrest the bag from him, and that at
length one of them seized a chopper and inflicted so severe a wound on
his arm, that in his agony he dropped the money, and the soldiers made
off with it. The latter were promptly arrested and confronted with
their accuser; but, with almost indecent haste, the police magistrate
dismissed the case against them, and declared that he believed the man
had made away with the money and inflicted the wound on himself. And
so it turned out to be, under overwhelming evidence. This servant of
proved fidelity had given way to a rash hope of making a little money
at the gaming-table; had hurried into one of these hells and lost
everything in three stakes; had wounded himself on the right arm (he
was a left-handed man), and had concocted the story of the soldiers,
all within the space of about twenty-five minutes. When he saw that he
was detected, he confessed everything, without having received a
single blow of the bamboo; but up to the moment of his confession the
foreign feeling against that police-magistrate was undeniably strong.
[418] See No. I., note 39.
[419] See No. LXVIII., note 385. The circumstances which led to this
marriage would certainly be considered “exceptional.”
LXXIV.
A RIP VAN WINKLE.[420]
[The story runs that a Mr. Chia, after obtaining, with the assistance
of a mysterious friend, his master’s degree, became alive to the
vanity of mere earthly honours, and determined to devote himself to
the practice of Taoism, in the hope of obtaining the elixir of
immortality.[421]]
So early one morning Chia and his friend, whose name was Lang, stole
away together, without letting Chia’s family know anything about it;
and by-and-by they found themselves among the hills, in a vast cave
where there was another world and another sky. An old man was sitting
there in great state, and Lang presented Chia to him as his future
master. “Why have you come so soon?” asked the old man; to which Lang
replied, “My friend’s determination is firmly fixed: I pray you
receive him amongst you.” “Since you have come,” said the old man,
turning to Chia, “you must begin by putting away from you your
earthly body.” Chia murmured his assent, and was then escorted by Lang
to sleeping-chamber where he was provided with food, after which Lang
went away. The room was beautifully clean:[422] the doors had no panels
and the windows no lattices; and all the furniture was one table and
one couch. Chia took off his shoes and lay down, with the moon shining
brightly into the room; and beginning soon to feel hungry, he tried
one of the cakes on the table, which he found sweet and very
satisfying. He thought Lang would be sure to come back, but there he
remained hour after hour by himself, never hearing a sound. He
noticed, however, that the room was fragrant with a delicious perfume;
his viscera seemed to be removed from his body, by which his
intellectual faculties were much increased; and every one of his veins
and arteries could be easily counted. Then suddenly he heard a sound
like that of a cat scratching itself; and, looking out of the window,
he beheld a tiger sitting under the verandah. He was horribly
frightened for the moment, but immediately recalling the admonition of
the old man, he collected himself and sat quietly down again. The
tiger seemed to know that there was a man inside, for it entered the
room directly afterwards, and walking straight up to the couch sniffed
at Chia’s feet. Whereupon there was a noise outside, as if a fowl were
having its legs tied, and the tiger ran away. Shortly afterwards a
beautiful young girl came in, suffusing an exquisite fragrance around;
and going up to the couch where Chia was, she bent over him and
whispered, “Here I am.” Her breath was like the sweet odour of
perfumes; but as Chia did not move, she whispered again, “Are you
sleeping?” The voice sounded to Chia remarkably like that of his wife;
however, he reflected that these were all probably nothing more than
tests of his determination, so he closed his eyes firmly for a while.
But by-and-by the young lady called him by his pet name, and then he
opened his eyes wide to discover that she was no other than his own
wife. On asking her how she had come there, she replied that Mr. Lang
was afraid her husband would be lonely, and had sent an old woman to
guide her to him. Just then they heard the old man outside in a
towering rage, and Chia’s wife, not knowing where to conceal herself,
jumped over a low wall near by and disappeared. In came the old man,
and gave Lang a severe beating before Chia’s face, bidding him at once
to get rid of his visitor; so Lang led Chia away over the low wall,
saying, “I knew how anxious you were to consummate your immortality,
and accordingly I tried to hurry things on a bit; but now I see that
your time has not yet come: hence this beating I have had. Good-by: we
shall meet again some day.” He then shewed Chia the way to his home,
and waving his hand bade him farewell. Chia looked down--for he was in
the moon--and beheld the old familiar village and recollecting that
his wife was not a good walker and would not have got very far,
hurried on to overtake her. Before long he was at his own door, but he
noticed that the place was all tumble-down and in ruins, and not as it
was when he went away. As for the people he saw, old and young alike,
he did not recognise one of them; and recollecting the story of how
Liu and Yüan came back from heaven,[423] he was afraid to go in at the
door. So he sat down and rested outside; and after a while an old man
leaning on a staff came out, whereupon Chia asked him which was the
house of Mr. Chia. “This is it,” replied the old man; “you probably
wish to hear the extraordinary story connected with the family? I know
all about it. They say that Mr. Chia ran away just after he had taken
his master’s degree, when his son was only seven or eight years old;
and that about seven years afterwards the child’s mother went into a
deep sleep from which she did not awake. As long as her son was alive
he changed his mother’s clothes for her according to the seasons, but
when he died, her grandsons fell into poverty, and had nothing but an
old shanty to put the sleeping lady into. Last month she awaked,
having been asleep for over a hundred years. People from far and near
have been coming in great numbers to hear the strange story; of late,
however, there have been rather fewer.” Chia was amazed when he heard
all this, and, turning to the old man, said, “I am Chia Fêng-chih.”
This astonished the old man very much, and off he went to make the
announcement to Chia’s family. The eldest grandson was dead; and the
second, a man of about fifty, refused to believe that such a
young-looking man was really his grandfather; but in a few moments out
came Chia’s wife, and she recognised her husband at once. They then
fell upon each other’s necks and mingled their tears together.
[After which the story is drawn out to a considerable length, but is
quite devoid of interest.][424]
FOOTNOTES:
[420] This being a long and tedious story, I have given only such part
of it as is remarkable for its similarity to Washington Irving’s
famous narrative.
[421] See No. IV., note 46.
[422] Borrowed from Buddhism.
[423] Alluding to a similar story, related in the _Record of the
Immortals_, of how these two friends lost their way while gathering
simples on the hills, and were met and entertained by two lovely young
damsels for the space of half-a-year. When, however, they subsequently
returned home, they found that ten generations had passed away.
[424] Besides the above, there is the story of a man named Wang, who,
wandering one day in the mountains, came upon some old men playing a
game of _wei-ch‘i_ (see _Appendix_); and after watching them for some
time, he found that the handle of an axe he had with him had mouldered
away into dust. Seven generations of men had passed away in the
interval. Also, a similar legend of a horseman, who, when riding over
the hills, saw several old men playing a game with rushes, and tied
his horse to a tree while he himself approached to observe them. A few
minutes afterwards he turned to depart, but found only the skeleton of
his horse and the rotten remnants of the saddle and bridle. He then
sought his home, but that was gone too; and so he laid himself down
upon the ground and died of a broken heart.
LXXV.
THE THREE STATES OF EXISTENCE.