wolf, and took refuge in an old mat shed which had been put up for
the watchman of the crops. There he lay, while the wolf sniffed at him
from outside, and at length thrust in one of its paws from underneath.
This the butcher seized hold of at once, and held it firmly, so that
the wolf couldn’t stir; and then, having no other weapon at hand, he
took a small knife he had with him and slit the skin underneath the
wolf’s paw. He now proceeded to blow into it, as butchers blow into
pork;[647] and after vigorously blowing for some time, he found that
the wolf had ceased to struggle; upon which he went outside and saw
the animal lying on the ground, swelled up to the size of a cow, and
unable to bend its legs or close its open mouth. Thereupon he threw it
across his shoulders and carried it off home. However, such a feat as
this could only be accomplished by a butcher.
FOOTNOTES:
[646] A satirical remark of Mencius (Book I.), used by the sage when
combating the visionary projects of a monarch of antiquity.
[647] This disgusting process is too frequently performed by native
butchers at the present day, in order to give their meat a more
tempting appearance. Water is also blown in through a tube, to make it
heavier; and inexperienced housekeepers are often astonished to find
how light ducks and geese become after being cooked, not knowing that
the fraudulent poulterer had previously stuffed their throats as full
as possible of sand.
CXLVI.
SINGULAR VERDICT.
A servant in the employ of a Mr. Sun was sleeping alone one night,
when all on a sudden he was arrested and carried before the tribunal
of the Ruler of Purgatory. “This is not the right man,” cried his
Majesty, and immediately sent him back. However, after this the
servant was afraid to sleep on that bed again, and took up his
quarters elsewhere. But another servant, named Kuo Ngan, seeing the
vacant place, went and occupied it. A third servant, named Li Lu, who
had an old standing grudge against the first, stole up to the bed that
same night with a knife in his hand, and killed Kuo Ngan[648] in
mistake for his enemy. Kuo’s father at once brought the case before
the magistrate of the place, pleading that the murdered man was his
only son on whom he depended for his living; and the magistrate
decided that Kuo was to take Li Lu in the place of his dead son, much
to the discomfiture of the old man. Truly the descent of the first
servant into Purgatory was not so marvellous as the magistrate’s
decision!
FOOTNOTE:
[648] This was the man whose destiny it was really to die just then,
and appear before the Ruler of Purgatory.
CXLVII.
THE GRATEFUL DOG.
A certain trader who had been doing business at Wu-hu and was
returning home with the large profits he had made, saw on the river
bank a butcher tying up a dog.[649] He bought the animal for much more
than its value, and carried it along with him in his boat. Now the
boatman had formerly been a bandit; and, tempted by his passenger’s
wealth, ran the boat among the rushes, and, drawing a knife, prepared
to slay him. The trader begged the man to leave him a whole skin;[650]
so the boatman wrapped him up in a carpet and threw him into the
river. The dog, on seeing what was done, whined piteously, and jumping
into the river, seized the bundle with his teeth and did its best to
keep the trader above water until at length a shallow spot was
reached. The animal then succeeded by continuous barking in attracting
the attention of some people on the bank, and they hauled the bundle
out of the river, and released the trader who was still alive. The
latter asked to be taken back to Wu-hu where he might look out for the
robber boatman; but just as he was about to start, lo! the dog was
missing. The trader was much distressed at this; and after spending
some days at Wu-hu without being able to find, among the forest of
masts collected there, the particular boat he wanted, he was on the
point of returning home with a friend, when suddenly the dog
re-appeared and seemed by its barking to invite its master to follow
in a certain direction. This the trader did, until at length the dog
jumped on a boat and seized one of the boatmen by the leg. No beating
could make the animal let go; and on looking closely at the man, the
trader saw he was the identical boatman who had robbed and tried to
murder him. He had changed his clothes and also his boat, so that at
first he was not recognisable; he was now, however, arrested, and the
whole of the money was found in his boat. To think that a dog could
show gratitude like that! Truly there are not a few persons who would
be put to shame by that faithful animal.[651]
FOOTNOTES:
[649] The city of Canton boasts several “cat and dog” restaurants; but
the consumption of this kind of food is much less universal than is
generally supposed.
[650] Not in our sense of the term. It was not death, but
decapitation, or even mutilation, from which the trader begged to be
spared. See No. LXXII., note 414.
[651] The Chinese dog is usually an ill-fed, barking cur, without one
redeeming trait in its character. Valued as a guardian of house and
property, this animal does not hold the same social position as with
us; its very name is a by-word of reproach; and the people of Tonquin
explain their filthy custom of blackening the teeth on the ground that
a dog’s teeth are white.
CXLVIII.
THE GREAT TEST.
Before Mr. Yang Ta-hung[652] was known to fame, he had already
acquired some reputation as a scholar in his own part of the country,
and felt convinced himself that his was to be no mean destiny. When
the list of successful candidates at the examination was brought to
where he lived, he was in the middle of dinner, and rushed out with
his mouth full to ask if his name was there or not; and on hearing
that it was not, he experienced such a revulsion of feeling that what
he then swallowed stuck fast like a lump in his chest and made him
very ill. His friends tried to appease him by advising him to try at
the further examination of the rejected, and when he urged that he had
no money, they subscribed ten ounces of silver and started him on his
way.
That night he dreamt that a man appeared to him and said, “Ahead of
you there is one who can cure your complaint: beseech him to aid you.”
The man then added--
“A tune on the flute ’neath the riverside willow:
Oh, show no regret when ’tis cast to the billow!”
Next day, Mr. Yang actually met a Taoist priest sitting beneath a
willow tree; and, making him a bow, asked him to prescribe for his
malady. “You have come to the wrong person,” replied the priest,
smiling; “I cannot cure diseases; but had you asked me for a tune on
the flute, I could have possibly helped you.” Then Mr. Yang knew that
his dream was being fulfilled; and going down on his knees offered the
priest all the money he had. The priest took it, but immediately threw
it into the river, at which Mr. Yang, thinking how hardly he had come
by this money, was moved to express his regret. “Aha!” cried the
priest at this; “so you are not indifferent, eh? You’ll find your
money all safe on the bank.” There indeed Mr. Yang found it, at which
he was so much astonished that he addressed the priest as though he
had been an angel. “I am no angel,” said the priest, “but here comes
one;” whereupon Mr. Yang looked behind him, and the priest seized the
opportunity to give him a slap on the back, crying out at the same
time, “You worldly-minded fellow!” This blow brought up the lump of
food that had stuck in his chest, and he felt better at once; but when
he looked round the priest had disappeared.[653]
FOOTNOTES:
[652] A celebrated scholar and statesman, who flourished towards the
close of the Ming dynasty, and distinguished himself by his
impeachment of the powerful eunuch, Wei Chung-hsien,--a dangerous step
to take in those eunuch-ridden times.
[653] Mr. Yang was a man of tried virtue, and had he been able to
tolerate _oculo irretorto_, the loss of his money, the priest would
have given him, not merely a cure for the bodily ailment under which
he was suffering, but a knowledge of those means by which he might
have obtained the salvation of his soul, and have enrolled himself
among the ranks of the Taoist Immortals. “To those, however,” remarks
the commentator, “who lament that Mr. Yang was too worldly-minded to
secure this great prize, I reply, ‘Better one more good man on earth,
than an extra angel in heaven.’”
CXLIX.
THE ALCHEMIST.[654]
At Ch‘ang-ngan there lived a scholar named Chia Tzŭ-lung, who one day
noticed a very refined-looking stranger; and, on making inquiries
about him, learnt that he was a Mr. Chên, who had taken lodgings hard
by. Accordingly, next day Chia called and sent in his card, but did
not see Chên, who happened to be out at the time. The same thing
occurred thrice; and at length Chia engaged some one to watch and let
him know when Mr. Chên was at home. However, even then the latter
would not come forth to receive his guest, and Chia had to go in and
rout him out. The two now entered into conversation, and soon became
mutually charmed with each other; and by-and-by Chia sent off a
servant to bring wine from a neighbouring wine-shop. Mr. Chên proved
himself a pleasant boon companion, and when the wine was nearly
finished, he went to a box, and took from it some wine-cups and a
large and beautiful jade tankard, into the latter of which he poured
a single cup of wine, and lo! it was filled to the brim. They then
proceeded to help themselves from the tankard; but however much they
took out, the contents never seemed to diminish. Chia was astonished
at this, and begged Mr. Chên to tell him how it was done. “Ah,”
replied Mr. Chên, “I tried to avoid making your acquaintance solely
because of your one bad quality--avarice. The art I practise is a
secret known to the Immortals only: how can I divulge it to you?” “You
do me wrong,” rejoined Chia, “in thus attributing avarice to me. The
avaricious, indeed, are always poor.” Mr. Chên laughed, and they
separated for that day; but from that time they were constantly
together, and all ceremony was laid aside between them. Whenever Chia
wanted money, Mr. Chên would bring out a black stone, and, muttering a
charm, would rub it on a tile or a brick, which was forthwith changed
into a lump of silver. This silver he would give to Chia, and it was
always just as much as he actually required, neither more nor less;
and if ever the latter asked for more, Mr. Chên would rally him on the
subject of avarice. Finally, Chia determined to try and get possession
of this stone; and one day, when Mr. Chên was sleeping off the fumes
of a drinking-bout, he tried to extract it from his clothes. However,
Chên detected him at once, and declared that they could be friends no
more, and next day he left the place altogether. About a year
afterwards Chia was one day wandering by the river-bank, when he saw a
handsome-looking stone, marvellously like that in the possession of
Mr. Chên; and he picked it up at once and carried it home with him. A
few days passed away, and suddenly Mr. Chên presented himself at
Chia’s house, and explained that the stone in question possessed the
property of changing anything into gold, and had been bestowed upon
him long before by a certain Taoist priest, whom he had followed as a
disciple. “Alas!” added he, “I got tipsy and lost it; but divination
told me where it was, and if you will now restore it to me, I shall
take care to repay your kindness.” “You have divined rightly,” replied
Chia; “the stone is with me; but recollect, if you please, that the
indigent Kuan Chung[655] shared the wealth of his friend Pao Shu.” At
this hint Mr. Chên said he would give Chia one hundred ounces of
silver; to which the latter replied that one hundred ounces was a fair
offer, but that he would far sooner have Mr. Chên teach him the
formula to utter when rubbing the stone on anything, so as just to try
the thing once himself. Mr. Chên was afraid to do this; whereupon Chia
cried out, “You are an Immortal yourself; you must know well enough
that I would never deceive a friend.” So Mr. Chên was prevailed upon
to teach him the formula, and then Chia would have tried the art upon
the immense stone washing-block[656] which was lying near at hand, had
not Mr. Chên seized his arm and begged him not to do any thing so
outrageous. Chia then picked up half a brick and laid it on the
washing-block, saying to Mr. Chên, “This little piece is not too much,
surely?” Accordingly, Mr. Chên relaxed his hold and let Chia proceed;
which he did by promptly ignoring the half brick and quickly rubbing
the stone on the washing-block. Mr. Chên turned pale when he saw him
do this, and made a dash forward to get hold of the stone; but it was
too late, the washing-block was already a solid mass of silver, and
Chia quietly handed him back the stone. “Alas! alas!” cried Mr. Chên,
in despair, “what is to be done now? For having thus irregularly
conferred wealth upon a mortal,[657] Heaven will surely punish me. Oh,
if you would save me, give away one hundred coffins[658] and one
hundred suits of wadded clothes.” “My friend,” replied Chia, “my
object in getting money was not to hoard it up like a miser.” Mr. Chên
was delighted at this; and during the next three years Chia engaged in
trade, taking care to be all the time fulfilling his promise to Mr.
Chên. At the expiration of that time Mr. Chên himself reappeared, and,
grasping Chia’s hand, said to him, “Trustworthy and noble friend, when
we last parted the Spirit of Happiness impeached me before God,[659]
and my name was erased from the list of angels. But now that you have
carried out my request, that sentence has accordingly been rescinded.
Go on as you have begun, without ceasing.” Chia asked Mr. Chên what
office he filled in heaven; to which the latter replied that he was
only a fox, who, by a sinless life, had finally attained to that clear
perception of the Truth which leads to immortality. Wine was then
brought, and the two friends enjoyed themselves together as of old;
and even when Chia had passed the age of ninety years, that fox still
used to visit him from time to time.
FOOTNOTES:
[654] Alchemy was widely cultivated in China during the Han dynasty by
priests of the Taoist religion, but all traces of it have now long
since disappeared.
[655] See No. XXII., note 143.
[656] These are used, together with a heavy wooden _bâton_, by the
Chinese washerman, the effect being most disastrous to a European
wardrobe.
[657] For thus interfering with the appointments of Destiny.
[658] To provide coffins for poor people has ever been regarded as an
act of transcendent merit. The tornado at Canton, in April, 1878, in
which several thousand lives were lost, afforded an admirable
opportunity for the exercise of this form of charity--an opportunity
which was very largely availed of by the benevolent.
[659] For usurping its prerogative by allowing Chia to obtain
unauthorized wealth.
CL.
RAISING THE DEAD.
Mr. T‘ang P‘ing, who took the highest degree in the year 1661, was
suffering from a protracted illness, when suddenly he felt, as it
were, a warm glow rising from his extremities upwards. By the time it
had reached his knees, his feet were perfectly numb and without
sensation; and before long his knees and the lower part of his body
were similarly affected. Gradually this glow worked its way up until
it attacked the heart,[660] and then some painful moments ensued.
Every single incident of Mr. T‘ang’s life from his boyhood upwards, no
matter how trivial, seemed to surge through his mind, borne along on
the tide of his heart’s blood. At the revival of any virtuous act of
his, he experienced a delicious feeling of peace and calm; but when
any wicked deed passed before his mind, a painful disturbance took
place within him, like oil boiling and fretting in a cauldron. He was
quite unable to describe the pangs he suffered; however, he mentioned
that he could recollect having stolen, when only seven or eight years
old, some young birds from their nest, and having killed them; and for
this alone, he said, boiling blood rushed through his heart during the
space of an ordinary mealtime. Then when all the acts of his life had
passed one after another in panorama before him, the warm glow
proceeded up his throat, and, entering the brain, issued out at the
top of his head like smoke from a chimney. By-and-by Mr. T‘ang’s soul
escaped from his body by the same aperture, and wandered far away,
forgetting all about the tenement it had left behind. Just at that
moment a huge giant came along, and, seizing the soul, thrust it into
his sleeve, where it remained cramped and confined, huddled up with a
crowd of others, until existence was almost unbearable. Suddenly Mr.
T‘ang reflected that Buddha alone could save him from this horrible
state, and forthwith he began to call upon his holy name.[661] At the
third or fourth invocation he fell out of the giant’s sleeve,
whereupon the latter picked him up and put him back; but this happened
several times, and at length the giant, wearied of picking him up, let
him lie where he was. The soul lay there for some time, not knowing in
which direction to proceed; however, it soon recollected that the land
of Buddha was in the west, and westwards accordingly it began to shape
its course. In a little while the soul came upon a Buddhist priest
sitting by the roadside, and, hastening forwards, respectfully
inquired of him which was the right way. “The record of life and
death for scholars,” replied the priest, “is in the hands of
Wên-ch‘ang[662] and Confucius; any application must receive the
consent of both.” The priest then directed Mr. T‘ang on his way, and
the latter journeyed along until he reached a Confucian temple, in
which the Sage was sitting with his face to the south.[663] On hearing
his business, Confucius referred him on to Wên-ch‘ang; and, proceeding
onwards in the direction indicated, Mr. T‘ang by-and-by arrived at
what seemed to be the palace of a king, within which sat Wên-ch‘ang,
precisely as we depict him on earth. “You are an upright man,” replied
the God, in reply to Mr. T‘ang’s prayer, “and are certainly entitled
to a longer span of life; but by this time your mortal body has become
decomposed, and unless you can secure the assistance of P‘u-sa,[664] I
can give you no aid.” So Mr. T‘ang set off once more, and hurried
along until he came to a magnificent shrine standing in a thick grove
of tall bamboos; and, entering in, he stood in the presence of the
God, on whose head was the _ushnisha_,[665] whose golden face was
round like the full moon, and at whose side was a green willow-branch
bending gracefully over the lip of a vase. Humbly Mr. T‘ang prostrated
himself on the ground, and repeated what Wên-ch‘ang had said to him;
but P‘u-sa seemed to think it would be impossible to grant his
request, until one of the Lohans[666] who stood by cried out, “O God,
Thou canst perform this miracle: take earth and make his flesh; take a
sprig of willow and make his bones.” Thereupon P‘u-sa broke off a
piece from the willow-branch in the vase beside him; and, pouring a
little of the water upon the ground, he made clay, and, casting the
whole over Mr. T‘ang’s soul, bade an attendant lead the body back to
the place where his coffin was. At that instant Mr. T‘ang’s family
heard a groan proceeding from within his coffin, and, on rushing to it
and helping out the lately-deceased man, they found he had quite
recovered. He had then been dead seven days.
FOOTNOTES:
[660] See No. XIV., note 97.
[661] See No. LIV., note 293.
[662] The God of Literature.
[663] See No. LXXVII., note 431.
[664] See No. XXVI., note 182.
[665] A fleshy protuberance on the head, which is the distinguishing
mark of a Buddha.
[666] The eighteen personal disciples of Shâkyamuni Buddha. Sixteen of
these are Hindoos, which number was subsequently increased by the
addition of two Chinese Buddhists.
CLI.
FÊNG-SHUI.[667]
At I-chow there lived a high official named Sung, whose family were
all ardent supporters of Fêng-Shui; so much so, that even the
women-folk read books[668] on the subject, and understood the
principles of the science. When Mr. Sung died, his two sons set up
separate establishments,[669] and each invited to his own house
geomancers from far and near, who had any reputation in their art, to
select a spot for the dead man’s grave. By degrees, they had collected
together as many as a hundred a-piece, and every day they would scour
the country round, each at the head of his own particular regiment.
After about a month of this work, both sides had fixed upon a suitable
position for the grave; and the geomancers engaged by one brother,
declared that if their spot was selected he would certainly some day
be made a marquis, while the other brother was similarly informed, by
his geomancers, that by adopting their choice he would infallibly rise
to the rank of Secretary of State. Thus, neither brother would give
way to the other, but each set about making the grave in his own
particular place,--pitching marquees, and arranging banners, and
making all necessary preparations for the funeral. Then when the
coffin arrived at the point where roads branched off to the two
graves, the two brothers, each leading on his own little army of
geomancers, bore down upon it with a view to gaining possession of the
corpse. From morn till dewy eve the battle raged; and as neither
gained any advantage over the other, the mourners and friends, who had
come to witness the ceremony of burial, stole away one by one; and the
coolies, who were carrying the coffin, after changing the poles from
one shoulder to another until they were quite worn out, put the body
down by the roadside, and went off home. It then became necessary to
make some protection for the coffin against the wind and rain;
whereupon the elder brother immediately set about building a hut close
by, in which he purposed leaving some of his attendants to keep
guard; but he had no sooner begun than the younger brother followed
his example; and when the elder built a second and third, the younger
also built a second and third; and as this went on for the space of
three whole years, by the end of that time the place had become quite
a little village. By-and-by, both brothers died, one directly after
the other; and then their two wives determined to cast to the winds
the decision of each party of geomancers. Accordingly, they went
together to the two spots in question; and after inspecting them
carefully, declared that neither was suitable. The next step was to
jointly engage another set of geomancers, who submitted for their
approval several different spots, and ten days had hardly passed away
before the two women had agreed upon the position for their
father-in-law’s grave, which, as the wife of the younger brother
prophesied, would surely give to the family a high military degree. So
the body was buried, and within three years Mr. Sung’s eldest
grandson, who had entered as a military cadet, actually took the
corresponding degree to a literary master of arts.
[“Fêng-Shui,” adds the great commentator I Shih-shih, “may or may
not be based upon sound principles; at any rate, to indulge a
morbid belief in it is utter folly; and thus to join issue and
fight while a coffin is relegated to the roadside, is hardly in
accordance with the doctrines of filial piety or fraternal love.
Can people believe that mere position will improve the fortunes of
their family? At any rate, that two women should have thus quietly
settled the matter is certainly worthy of record.”]
FOOTNOTES: