to him in three previous lives. In the first, he was a magistrate;
and, on one occasion, when he had been nominated Assistant-Examiner,[425]
a candidate, named Hsing, was unsuccessful. Hsing went home dreadfully
mortified, and soon after died; but his spirit appeared before the
King of Purgatory, and read aloud the rejected essay, whereupon
thousands of other shades, all of whom had suffered in a similar way,
thronged around, and unanimously elected Hsing as their chief. The
Examiner was immediately summoned to take his trial, and when he
arrived the King asked him, saying, “As you are appointed to examine
the various essays, how is it that you throw out the able and admit
the worthless?” “Sire,” replied he, “the ultimate decision rests with
the Grand Examiner; I only pass them on to him.” The King then issued
a warrant for the apprehension of the Grand Examiner, and, as soon as
he appeared, he was told what had just now been said against him; to
which he answered, “I am only able to make a general estimate of the
merits of the candidates. Valuable essays may be kept back from me by
my Associate-Examiners, in which case I am powerless.”[426] But the
King cried out, “It’s all very well for you two thus to throw the
blame on each other; you are both guilty, and both of you must be
bambooed according to law.” This sentence was about to be carried into
effect, when Hsing, who was not at all satisfied with its lack of
severity, set up such a fearful screeching and howling, in which he
was well supported by all the other hundreds and thousands of shades,
that the King stopped short, and inquired what was the matter.
Thereupon Hsing informed His Majesty that the sentence was too light,
and that the Examiners should both have their eyes gouged out, so as
not to be able to read essays any more. The King would not consent to
this, explaining to the noisy rabble that the Examiners did not
purposely reject good essays, but only because they themselves were
naturally wanting in capacity. The shades then begged that, at any
rate, their hearts might be cut out, and to this the King was obliged
to yield; so the Examiners were seized by the attendants, their
garments stripped off, and their bodies ripped open with sharp knives.
The blood poured out on the ground, and the victims screamed with
pain; at which all the shades rejoiced exceedingly, and said, “Here we
have been pent up, with no one to redress our wrongs; but now Mr.
Hsing has come, our injuries are washed away.” They then dispersed
with great noise and hubbub. As for our Associate-Examiner, after his
heart had been cut out, he came to life again as the son of a poor man
in Shensi; and when he was twenty years old he fell into the hands of
the rebels, who were at that time giving great trouble to the country.
By-and-by, a certain official was sent at the head of some soldiers to
put down the insurrection, and he succeeded in capturing a large
number of the rebels, among whom was our hero. The latter reflected
that he himself was no rebel, and he was hoping that he would be able
to obtain his release in consequence, when he noticed that the officer
in charge was also a man of his own age, and, on looking more closely,
he saw that it was his old enemy, Hsing. “Alas!” cried he, “such is
destiny;” and so indeed it turned out, for all the other prisoners
were forthwith released, and he alone was beheaded. Once more his
spirit stood before the King of Purgatory, this time with an
accusation against Hsing. The King, however, would not summon Hsing at
once, but said he should be allowed to complete his term of official
life on earth; and it was not till thirty years afterwards that Hsing
appeared to answer to the charge. Then, because he had made light of
the lives of his people, he was condemned to be born again as a
brute-beast; and our hero, too, inasmuch as he had been known to beat
his father and mother, was sentenced to a similar fate. The latter,
fearing the future vengeance of Hsing, persuaded the King to give him
the advantage of size; and, accordingly, orders were issued that he
was to be born again as a big, and Hsing as a little, dog. The big dog
came to life in a shop in Shun-t‘ien Fu, and was one day lying down in
the street, when a trader from the south arrived, bringing with him a
little golden-haired dog, about the size of a wild cat, which, lo and
behold! turned out to be Hsing. The other, thinking Hsing’s size would
render him an easy prey, seized him at once; but the little one caught
him from underneath by the throat, and hung there firmly, like a bell.
The big dog tried hard to shake him off, and the people of the shop
did their best to separate them, but all was of no avail, and in a few
moments both dogs were dead. Upon their spirits presenting themselves,
as usual, before the King, each with its grievance against the other,
the King cried out, “When will ye have done with your wrongs and your
animosities? I will now settle the matter finally for you;” and
immediately commanded that Hsing should become the other’s son-in-law
in the next world. The latter was then born at Ch‘ing-yün, and when he
was twenty-eight years of age took his master’s degree. He had one
daughter, a very pretty girl, whom many of his wealthy neighbours
would have been glad to get for their sons; but he would not accept
any of their offers. On one occasion, he happened to pass through the
prefectural city just as the examination for bachelor’s degree was
over; and the candidate who had come out at the top of the list,
though named Li, was no other than Mr. Hsing. So he led this man away,
and took him to an inn, where he treated him with the utmost
cordiality, finally arranging that, as Mr. Li was still unmarried, he
should marry his pretty daughter. Everyone, of course, thought that
this was done in admiration of Li’s talents, ignorant that destiny had
already decreed the union of the young couple. No sooner were they
married than Li, proud of his own literary achievements, began to
slight his father-in-law, and often passed many months without going
near him; all of which the father-in-law bore very patiently, and
when, at length, Li had repeatedly failed to get on any farther in his
career, he even went so far as to set to work, by all manner of means,
to secure his success; after which they lived happily together as
father and son.
FOOTNOTES:
[425] See _Appendix_ A.
[426] If there is one institution in the Chinese empire which is
jealously guarded and honestly administered, it is the great system of
competitive examinations which has obtained in China now for many
centuries. And yet frauds do take place, in spite of the exceptionally
heavy penalties incurred upon detection. Friends are occasionally
smuggled through by the aid of marked essays; and dishonest candidates
avail themselves of “sleeve editions,” as they are called, of the
books in which they are to be examined. On the whole, the result is a
successful one. As a rule the best candidates pull through; while, in
exceptional cases, unquestionably good men are rejected. Of the latter
class, the author of this work is a most striking instance. Excelling
in literary attainments of the highest order, he failed more than once
to obtain his master’s degree, and finally threw up in disgust.
Thenceforward he became the enemy of the mandarinate; and how he has
lashed the corruption of his age may be read in such stories as _The
Wolf Dream_, and many others, while the policy that he himself would
have adopted, had he been fortunate enough to succeed, must remain for
ever a matter of doubt and speculation.
LXXVI.
IN THE INFERNAL REGIONS.
Hsi Fang-p‘ing was a native of Tung-an. His father’s name was Hsi
Lien--a hasty-tempered man, who had quarrelled with a neighbour named
Yang. By-and-by Yang died: and some years afterwards when Lien was on
his death-bed, he cried out that Yang was bribing the devils in hell
to torture him. His body then swelled up and turned red, and in a few
moments he had breathed his last. His son wept bitterly, and refused
all food, saying, “Alas! my poor father is now being maltreated by
cruel devils; I must go down and help to redress his wrongs.”
Thereupon he ceased speaking, and sat for a long time like one dazed,
his soul having already quitted its tenement of clay. To himself he
appeared to be outside the house, not knowing in what direction to go,
so he inquired from one of the passers-by which was the way to the
district city.[427] Before long he found himself there, and, directing
his steps towards the prison, found his father lying outside[428] in a
very shocking state. When the latter beheld his son, he burst into
tears, and declared that the gaolers had been bribed to beat him,
which they did both day and night, until they had reduced him to his
present sorry plight. Then Fang-p‘ing turned round in a great rage,
and began to curse the gaolers. “Out upon you!” cried he; “if my
father is guilty he should be punished according to law, and not at
the will of a set of scoundrels like you.” Thereupon he hurried away,
and prepared a petition, which he took with him to present at the
morning session of the City God; but his enemy, Yang, had meanwhile
set to work, and bribed so effectually, that the City God dismissed
his petition for want of corroborative evidence.[429] Fang-p‘ing was
furious, but could do nothing; so he started at once for the
prefectural city, where he managed to get his plaint received, though
it was nearly a month before it came on for hearing, and then all he
got was a reference back to the district city, where he was severely
tortured, and escorted back to the door of his own home, for fear he
should give further trouble. However, he did not go in, but stole
away and proceeded to lay his complaint before one of the ten Judges
of Purgatory; whereupon the two mandarins who had previously ill-used
him, came forward and secretly offered him a thousand ounces of silver
if he would withdraw the charge. This he positively refused to do; and
some days subsequently the landlord of the inn, where he was staying,
told him he had been a fool for his pains, and that he would now get
neither money nor justice, the Judge himself having already been
tampered with. Fang-p‘ing thought this was mere gossip, and would not
believe it; but, when his case was called, the Judge utterly refused
to hear the charge, and ordered him twenty blows with the bamboo,
which were administered in spite of all his protestations. He then
cried out, “Ah! it’s all because I have no money to give you;” which
so incensed the Judge, that he told the lictors to throw Fang-p‘ing on
the fire-bed. This was a great iron couch, with a roaring fire
underneath, which made it red-hot; and upon that the devils cast
Fang-p‘ing, having first stripped off his clothes, pressing him down
on it, until the fire ate into his very bones, though in spite of that
he could not die. After a while the devils said he had had enough, and
made him get off the iron bed, and put his clothes on again. He was
just able to walk, and when he went back into court, the Judge asked
him if he wanted to make any further complaints. “Alas!” cried he, “my
wrongs are still unredressed, and I should only be lying were I to say
I would complain no more.” The Judge then inquired what he had to
complain of; to which Fang-p‘ing replied that it was of the injustice
of his recent punishment. This enraged the Judge so much that he
ordered his attendants to saw Fang-p‘ing in two. He was then led away
by devils, to a place where he was thrust in between a couple of
wooden boards, the ground on all sides being wet and sticky with
blood. Just at that moment he was summoned to return before the Judge,
who asked him if he was still of the same mind; and, on his replying
in the affirmative, he was taken back again, and bound between the two
boards. The saw was then applied, and as it went through his brain he
experienced the most cruel agonies, which, however, he managed to
endure without uttering a cry. “He’s a tough customer,” said one of
the devils, as the saw made its way gradually through his chest; to
which the other replied, “Truly, this is filial piety; and, as the
poor fellow has done nothing, let us turn the saw a little out of the
direct line, so as to avoid injuring his heart.” Fang-p‘ing then felt
the saw make a curve inside him, which caused him even more pain than
before; and, in a few moments, he was cut through right down to the
ground, and the two halves of his body fell apart, along with the
boards to which they were tied, one on either side. The devils went
back to report progress, and were then ordered to join Fang-p‘ing
together again, and bring him in. This they accordingly did,--the cut
all down Fang-p‘ing’s body hurting him dreadfully, and feeling as if
it would re-open every minute. But, as Fang-p‘ing was unable to walk,
one of the devils took out a cord and tied it round his waist, as a
reward, he said, for his filial piety. The pain immediately ceased,
and Fang-p‘ing appeared once more before the Judge, this time
promising that he would make no more complaints. The Judge now gave
orders that he should be sent up to earth, and the devils, escorting
him out of the north gate of the city, shewed him his way home, and
went away. Fang-p‘ing now saw that there was even less chance of
securing justice in the Infernal Regions than upon the earth above;
and, having no means of getting at the Great King to plead his case,
he bethought himself of a certain upright and benevolent God, called
Erh Lang, who was a relative of the Great King’s, and him he
determined to seek. So he turned about and took his way southwards,
but was immediately seized by some devils, sent out by the Judge to
watch that he really went back to his home. These devils hurried him
again into the Judge’s presence, where he was received, contrary to
his expectation, with great affability; the Judge himself praising his
filial piety, but declaring that he need trouble no further in the
matter, as his father had already been born again in a wealthy and
illustrious family. “And upon you,” added the Judge, “I now bestow a
present of one thousand ounces of silver to take home with you, as
well as the old age of a centenarian, with which I hope you will be
satisfied.” He then shewed Fang-p‘ing the stamped record of this, and
sent him away in charge of the devils. The latter now began to abuse
him for giving them so much trouble, but Fang-p‘ing turned sharply
upon them, and threatened to take them back before the Judge. They
were then silent, and marched along for about half-a-day, until at
length they reached a village, where the devils invited Fang-p‘ing
into a house, the door of which was standing half-open. Fang-p‘ing was
just going in, when suddenly the devils gave him a shove from behind,
and ... there he was, born again on earth as a little girl. For three
days he pined and cried, without taking any food, and then he died.
But his spirit did not forget Erh Lang, and set out at once in search
of that God. He had not gone far when he fell in with the retinue of
some high personage, and one of the attendants seized him for getting
in the way, and hurried him before his master. He was taken to a
chariot, where he saw a handsome young man, sitting in great state;
and thinking that now was his chance, he told the young man, who he
imagined to be a high mandarin, all his sad story from beginning to
end. His bonds were then loosed, and he went along with the young man
until they reached a place where several officials came out to receive
them; and to one of these he confided Fang-p‘ing, who now learnt that
the young man was no other than God himself, the officials being the
nine princes of heaven, and the one to whose care he was entrusted no
other than Erh Lang. This last was very tall, and had a long white
beard, not at all like the popular representation of a God; and when
the other princes had gone, he took Fang-p‘ing into a court-room,
where he saw his father and their old enemy, Yang, besides all the
lictors and others who had been mixed up in the case. By-and-by, some
criminals were brought in in cages, and these turned out to be the
Judge, Prefect, and Magistrate. The trial was then commenced, the
three wicked officers trembling and shaking in their shoes; and when
he had heard the evidence, Erh Lang proceeded to pass sentence upon
the prisoners, each of whom he sentenced, after enlarging upon the
enormity of their several crimes, to be roasted, boiled, and otherwise
put to most excruciating tortures. As for Fang-p‘ing, he accorded him
three extra decades of life, as a reward for his filial piety, and a
copy of the sentence was put in his pocket. Father and son journeyed
along together, and at length reached their home; that is to say,
Fang-p‘ing was the first to recover consciousness, and then bade the
servants open his father’s coffin, which they immediately did, and the
old man at once came back to life. But when Fang-p‘ing looked for his
copy of the sentence, lo! it had disappeared. As for the Yang family,
poverty soon overtook them, and all their lands passed into
Fang-p‘ing’s hands; for as sure as any one else bought them, they
became sterile forthwith, and would produce nothing; but Fang-p‘ing
and his father lived on happily, both reaching the age of ninety and
odd years.[430]
FOOTNOTES:
[427] The Infernal Regions are supposed to be pretty much a counterpart
of the world above, except in the matter of light.
[428] The visitor to Canton cannot fail to observe batches of prisoners
with chains on them sitting in the street outside the prisons, many of
them engaged in plying their particular trades.
[429] The judge in a Chinese court is necessarily very much dependent
on his secretaries; and, except in special cases, he takes his cue
almost entirely from them. They take theirs from whichever party to
the case knows best how to “cross the palm.”
[430] The whole story is of course simply a satire upon the venality
and injustice of the ruling classes in China.
LXXVII.
SINGULAR CASE OF OPHTHALMIA.
A Mr. Ku, of Chiang-nan, was stopping in an inn at Chi-hsia, when he
was attacked by a very severe inflammation of the eyes. Day and night
he lay on his bed groaning, no medicines being of any avail; and when
he did get a little better, his recovery was accompanied by a singular
phenomenon. Every time he closed his eyes, he beheld in front of him a
number of large buildings, with all their doors wide open, and people
passing and repassing in the background, none of whom he recognised by
sight. One day he had just sat down to have a good look, when, all of
a sudden, he felt himself passing through the open doors. He went on
through three court-yards without meeting any one; but, on looking
into some rooms on either side, he saw a great number of young girls
sitting, lying, and kneeling about on a red carpet, which was spread
on the ground. Just then a man came out from behind the building, and,
seeing Ku, said to him, “Ah, the Prince said there was a stranger at
the door; I suppose you are the person he meant.” He then asked Ku to
walk in, which the latter was at first unwilling to do; however, he
yielded to the man’s instances, and accompanied him in, asking whose
palace it was. His guide told him it belonged to the son of the Ninth
Prince, and that he had arrived at the nick of time, for a number of
friends and relatives had chosen this very day to come and
congratulate the young gentleman on his recent recovery from a severe
illness. Meanwhile another person had come out to hurry them on, and
they soon reached a spot where there was a pavilion facing the north,
with an ornamental terrace and red balustrades, supported by nine
pillars. Ascending the steps, they found the place full of visitors,
and then espied a young man seated with his face to the north,[431]
whom they at once knew to be the Prince’s son, and thereupon they
prostrated themselves before him, the whole company rising as they did
so. The young Prince made Ku sit down to the east of him, and caused
wine to be served; after which some singing-girls came in and
performed the Hua-fêng-chu.[432] They had got to about the third scene,
when, all of a sudden, Ku heard the landlord of the inn and his
servant shouting out to him that dinner was ready, and was dreadfully
afraid that the young Prince, too, had heard. No one, however, seemed
to have noticed anything, so Ku begged to be excused a moment, as he
wished to change his clothes, and immediately ran out. He then looked
up, and saw the sun low in the west, and his servant standing by his
bedside, whereupon he knew that he had never left the inn. He was much
chagrined at this, and wished to go back as fast as he could; he,
therefore, dismissed his servant, and on shutting his eyes once more,
he found everything just as he had left it, except that where, on the
first occasion, he had observed the young girls, there were none now
to be seen, but only some dishevelled hump-backed creatures, who cried
out at him, and asked him what he meant by spying about there. Ku
didn’t dare reply, but hurried past them as quickly as he could, and
on to the pavilion of the young Prince. There he found him still
sitting, but with a black beard over a foot in length; and the Prince
was anxious to know where he had been, saying that seven scenes of the
play were already over. He then seized a big goblet of wine, and made
Ku drink it as a penalty, by which time the play was finished, and the
list was handed up for a further selection. The “Marriage of P‘êng
Tsu” was selected, and then the singing-girls began to hand round the
wine in cocoa-nuts big enough to hold about five quarts, which Ku
declined, on the ground that he was suffering from weak eyes, and was
consequently afraid to drink too much. “If your eyes are bad,” cried
the young Prince, “the Court physician is at hand, and can attend to
you.” Thereupon, one of the guests sitting to the east came forward,
and opening Ku’s eyes with his fingers, touched them with some white
ointment, which he applied from the end of a jade pin. He then bade Ku
close his eyes, and take a short nap; so the Prince had him conducted
into a sleeping-room, where he found the bed so soft, and surrounded
by such delicious perfume, that he soon fell into a deep slumber.
By-and-by he was awaked by what appeared to be the clashing of
cymbals, and fancied that the play was still going on; but on opening
his eyes, he saw that it was only the inn-dog, which was licking an
oilman’s gong.[433] His ophthalmia, however, was quite cured; and when
he shut his eyes again he could see nothing.
FOOTNOTES:
[431] In Book V. of Mencius’ works we read that Shun, the perfect man,
stood with his face to the south, while the Emperor Yao (see No.
VIII., note 63) and his nobles faced the north. This arrangement is
said to have been adopted in deference to Shun’s virtue; for in modern
times the Emperor always sits facing the south.
[432] Name of a celebrated play.
[433] These are about as big as a cheese-plate and attached to a short
stick, from which hangs suspended a small button of metal in such a
manner as to clash against the face of the gong at every turn of the
hand. The names and descriptions of various instruments employed by
costermongers in China would fill a good-sized volume.
LXXVIII.
CHOU K‘O-CH‘ANG AND HIS GHOST.