Part 24

The Fêng family had, however, anticipated them, and all the Tsêngs were accordingly thrown into prison, except Chung, who managed to escape. He ran away to the place where Yu-yü lived, and was pacing backwards and forwards before the door, afraid lest his brother should not have forgiven past offences, when suddenly Yu-yü, with his son and nephew, arrived, on their return from the examination. “What do you want, my brother?” asked Yu-yü; whereupon Chung prostrated himself at the roadside, and then Yu-yü, seizing his hand, led him within to make further inquiries. “Alas! alas!” cried Yu-yü, when he had heard the story, “I knew that some dreadful calamity would be the result of all this wicked behaviour. But why have you come hither? I have been absent so long that I am no more acquainted with the local authorities; and if I now went to ask a favour of them, I should probably only be insulted for my pains. However, if none of the Fêng family die of their wounds, and if we three may chance to be successful in our examination, something may perhaps be done to mitigate this calamity.”[253] Yu-yü then kept Chung to dinner, and at night he shared their room, which kind treatment made him at once grateful and repentant. By the end of ten days he was so struck with the behaviour of the father, sons, uncle, nephew, and cousins, one toward the other, that he burst into tears, and said, “Now I know how badly I behaved in days gone by.” His uncle was overjoyed at his repentance, and sympathised with his feelings, when suddenly it was announced that Yu-yü and his son had both passed the examination for master’s degree, and that Chi-tsu was _proximé accessit_. This delighted them all very much. They did not, however, attend the Fu-t‘ai’s congratulatory feast,[254] but went off first to worship at the tombs of their ancestors.

Now, at the time of the Ming dynasty a man who had taken his master’s degree was a very considerable personage,[255] and the Fêngs accordingly began to draw in their horns. Yu-yü, too, met them half-way. He got a friend to convey to them presents of food and money to help them in recovering from their injuries, and thus the prosecution was withdrawn. Then all his brothers implored him with tears in their eyes to return home, and, after burning incense with them,[256] and making them enter into a bond with him that by-gones should be by-gones, he acceded to their request. Chi-tsu, however, would not leave his uncle; and Hsiao himself said to Yu-yü, “I don’t deserve such a son as that. Keep him, and teach him as you have done hitherto, and let him be as one of your own children; but if at some future time he succeeds in his examination, then I will beg you to return him to me.” Yu-yü consented to this; and three years afterwards Chi-tsu did take his master’s degree, upon which he sent him back to his own family.

Both husband and wife were very loth to leave their uncle’s house, and they had hardly been at home three days before one of their children, only three years old, ran away and went back, returning to his great-uncle’s as often as he was recaptured. This induced Hsiao to remove to the next house to Yu-yü’s, and, by opening a door between the two, they made one establishment of the whole. Ch‘êng was now getting old, and the family affairs devolved entirely upon Yu-yü, who managed things so well that their reputation for filial piety and fraternal love was soon spread far and wide.

FOOTNOTES:

[247] Deference to elder brothers is held by the Chinese to be second only in importance to filial piety.

[248] In a volume of _Chinese Sketches_, published by me in 1876, occur (p. 129) the following words:--“Occasionally a young wife is driven to commit suicide by the harshness of her mother-in-law, but this is of rare occurrence, as the consequences are terrible to the family of the guilty woman. The blood-relatives of the deceased repair to the chamber of death, and in the injured victim’s hand they place a broom. They then support the corpse round the room, making its dead arm move the broom from side to side, and thus sweep away wealth, happiness, and longevity, from the accursed place for ever.”

[249] A wife being an infinitely less important personage than a mother in the Chinese social scale.

[250] Literally, of hand and foot, to the mutual dependence of which that of brothers is frequently likened by the Chinese.

[251] Any permanent change of residence must be notified to the District Magistrate, who keeps a running census of all persons within his jurisdiction.

[252] To be thus beforehand with one’s adversary is regarded as _primâ facie_ evidence of being in the right.

[253] By means of the _status_ which a graduate of the second degree would necessarily have.

[254] A sham entertainment given by the Fu-t‘ai, or governor, to all the successful candidates. I say _sham_, because the whole thing is merely nominal; a certain amount of food is contracted for, but there is never anything fit to eat, most of the money being embezzled by the underlings to whose management the banquet is entrusted.

[255] Much more so than at present.

[256] Thereby invoking the Gods as witnesses. A common method of making up a quarrel in China is to send the aggrieved party an olive and a piece of red paper in token that peace is restored. Why the _olive_ should be specially employed I have in vain tried to ascertain.

XLIV.

THE YOUNG GENTLEMAN WHO COULDN’T SPELL.[257]

At Chia-p‘ing there lived a certain young gentleman of considerable talent and very prepossessing appearance. When seventeen years of age he went up for his bachelor’s degree; and as he was passing the door of a house, he saw within a pretty-looking girl, who not only riveted his gaze, but also smiled and nodded her head at him. Quite pleased at this, he approached the young lady and began to talk, she, meanwhile, inquiring of him where he lived, and if alone or otherwise. He assured her he was quite by himself; and then she said, “Well, I will come and see you, but you mustn’t let any one know.” The young gentleman agreed, and when he got home he sent all the servants to another part of the house, and by-and-by the young lady arrived. She said her name was Wên-chi, and that her admiration for her host’s noble bearing had made her visit him, unknown to her mistress. “And gladly,” added she, “would I be your handmaid for life.” Our hero was delighted, and proposed to purchase her from the mistress she mentioned; and from this time she was in the habit of coming in every other day or so. On one occasion it was raining hard, and, after hanging up her wet cloak upon a peg, she took off her shoes, and bade the young gentleman clean them for her. He noticed that they were newly embroidered with all the colours of the rainbow, but utterly spoilt by the soaking rain; and was just saying what a pity it was, when the young lady cried out, “I should never have asked you to do such menial work except to show my love for you.” All this time the rain was falling fast outside, and Wên-chi now repeated the following line:--

“A nipping wind and chilly rain fill the river and the city.”

“There,” said she, “cap that.” The young gentleman replied that he could not, as he did not even understand what it meant. “Oh, really,” retorted the young lady, “if you’re not more of a scholar than that, I shall begin to think very little of you.” She then told him he had better practice making verses, and he promised he would do so.

By degrees Miss Wên-chi’s frequent visits attracted the notice of the servants, as also of a brother-in-law named Sung, who was likewise a gentleman of position; and the latter begged our hero to be allowed to have a peep at her. He was told in reply that the young lady had strictly forbidden that any one should see her; however, he concealed himself in the servants’ quarters, and when she arrived he looked at her through the window. Almost beside himself, he now opened the door; whereupon Wên-chi jumping up, vaulted over the wall and disappeared. Sung was really smitten with her, and went off to her mistress to try and arrange for her purchase; but when he mentioned Wên-chi’s name, he was informed that they had once had such a girl, who had died several years previously. In great amazement Sung went back and told his brother-in-law, and he now knew that his beloved Wên-chi was a disembodied spirit. So when she came again he asked her if it was so; to which she replied, “It is; but as you wanted a nice wife and I a handsome husband, I thought we should be a suitable pair. What matters it that one is a mortal and the other a spirit?” The young gentleman thoroughly coincided in her view of the case; and when his examination was over, and he was homeward bound, Wên-chi accompanied him, invisible to others and visible to him alone. Arriving at his parents’ house, he installed her in the library; and the day she went to pay the customary bride’s visit to her father and mother,[258] he told his own mother the whole story. She and his father were greatly alarmed, and ordered him to have no more to do with her; but he would not listen to this, and then his parents tried by all kinds of devices to get rid of the girl, none of which met with any success.

One day our hero had left upon the table some written instructions for one of the servants, wherein he had made a number of mistakes in spelling, such as _paper_ for _pepper_, _jinjer_ for _ginger_, and so on; and when Wên-chi saw this, she wrote at the foot:--

“Paper for pepper do I see? Jinjer for ginger can it be? Of such a husband I’m afraid; I’d rather be a servant-maid.”

She then said to the young gentleman, “Imagining you to be a man of culture, I hid my blushes and sought you out the first.[259] Alas, your qualifications are on the outside; should I not thus be a laughing-stock to all?” She then disappeared, at which the young gentleman was much hurt; but not knowing to what she alluded, he gave the instructions to his servant, and so made himself the butt of all who heard the story.

FOOTNOTES:

[257] Of course there is no such thing as spelling, in our sense of the term, in Chinese. But characters are frequently written with too many or too few strokes, and may thus be said to be incorrectly spelt.

[258] A ceremonial visit made on the third day after marriage.

[259] Contrary to all Chinese notions of modesty and etiquette.

XLV.

THE TIGER GUEST.

A young man named Kung, a native of Min-chou, on his way to the examination at Hsi-ngan, rested awhile in an inn, and ordered some wine to drink. Just then a very tall and noble-looking stranger walked in, and, seating himself by the side of Kung, entered into conversation with him. Kung offered him a cup of wine, which the stranger did not refuse; saying, at the same time, that his name was Miao. But he was a rough, coarse fellow; and Kung, therefore, when the wine was finished, did not call for any more. Miao then rose, and observing that Kung did not appreciate a man of his capacity, went out into the market to buy some, returning shortly with a huge bowl full. Kung declined the proffered wine; but Miao, seizing his arm to persuade him, gripped it so painfully that Kung was forced to drink a few more cups, Miao himself swilling away as hard as he could go out of a soup-plate. “I am not good at entertaining people,” cried Miao, at length; “pray go on or stop just as you please.” Kung accordingly put together his things and went off; but he had not gone more than a few miles when his horse was taken ill, and lay down in the road. While he was waiting there with all his heavy baggage, revolving in his mind what he should do, up came Mr. Miao; who, when he heard what was the matter, took off his coat and handed it to the servant, and lifting up the horse, carried it off on his back to the nearest inn, which was about six or seven miles distant. Arriving there he put the animal in the stable, and before long Kung and his servants arrived too. Kung was much astonished at Mr. Miao’s feat; and, believing him to be superhuman, began to treat him with the utmost deference, ordering both wine and food to be procured for their refreshment. “My appetite,” remarked Miao, “is one that you could not easily satisfy. Let us stick to wine.” So they finished another stoup together, and then Miao got up and took his leave, saying, “It will be some time before your horse is well; I cannot wait for you.” He then went away.

After the examination several friends of Kung’s invited him to join them in a picnic to the Flowery Hill; and just as they were all feasting and laughing together, lo! Mr. Miao walked up. In one hand he held a large flagon, and in the other a ham, both of which he laid down on the ground before them. “Hearing,” said he, “that you gentlemen were coming here, I have tacked myself on to you, like a fly to a horse’s tail.”[260] Kung and his friends then rose and received him with the usual ceremonies, after which they all sat down promiscuously.[261] By-and-by, when the wine had gone round pretty freely, some one proposed capping verses; whereupon Miao cried out, “Oh, we’re very jolly drinking like this; what’s the use of making oneself uncomfortable?” The others, however, would not listen to him, and agreed that as a forfeit a huge goblet of wine should be drunk by any defaulter. “Let us rather make death the penalty,” said Miao; to which they replied, laughing, that such a punishment was a trifle too severe; and then Miao retorted that if it was not to be death, even a rough fellow like himself might be able to join. A Mr. Chin, who was sitting at the top of the line, then began:--

“From the hill-top high, wide extends the gaze--”

upon which Miao immediately carried on with

“Redly gleams the sword o’er the shattered vase.”[262]

The next gentleman thought for a long time, during which Miao was helping himself to wine; and by-and-by they had all capped the verse, but so wretchedly that Miao called out, “Oh, come! if we aren’t to be fined for these,[263] we had better abstain from making any more.” As none of them would agree to this, Miao could stand it no longer, and roared like a dragon till the hills and valleys echoed again. He then went down on his hands and knees, and jumped about like a lion, which utterly confused the poets, and put an end to their lucubrations. The wine had now been round a good many times, and being half tipsy each began to repeat to the other the verses he had handed in at the recent examination,[264] all at the same time indulging in any amount of mutual flattery. This so disgusted Miao that he drew Kung aside to have a game at “guess-fingers;”[265] but as they went on droning away all the same, he at length cried out, “Do stop your rubbish, fit only for your own wives,[266] and not for general company.” The others were much abashed at this, and so angry were they at Miao’s rudeness that they went on repeating all the louder. Miao then threw himself on the ground in a passion, and with a roar changed into a tiger, immediately springing upon the company, and killing them all except Kung and Mr. Chin. He then ran off roaring loudly. Now this Mr. Chin succeeded in taking his master’s degree; and three years afterwards, happening to revisit the Flowery Hill, he beheld a Mr. Chi, one of those very gentlemen who had previously been killed by the tiger. In great alarm he was making off, when Chi seized his bridle and would not let him proceed. So he got down from his horse, and inquired what was the matter; to which Chi replied, “I am now the slave of Miao, and have to endure bitter toil for him. He must kill some one else before I can be set free.[267] Three days hence a man, arrayed in the robes and cap of a scholar, should be eaten by the tiger at the foot of the Ts‘ang-lung Hill. Do you on that day take some gentleman thither, and thus help your old friend.” Chin was too frightened to say much, but promising that he would do so, rode away home. He then began to consider the matter over with himself, and, regarding it as a plot, he determined to break his engagement, and let his friend remain the tiger’s devil. He chanced, however, to repeat the story to a Mr. Chiang who was a relative of his, and one of the local scholars; and as this gentleman had a grudge against another scholar, named Yu, who had come out equal with him at the examination, he made up his mind to destroy him. So he invited Yu to accompany him on that day to the place in question, mentioning that he himself should appear in undress only. Yu could not make out the reason for this; but when he reached the spot there he found all kinds of wine and food ready for his entertainment. Now that very day the Prefect had come to the hill; and being a friend of the Chiang family, and hearing that Chiang was below, sent for him to come up. Chiang did not dare to appear before him in undress, and borrowed Yu’s clothes and hat; but he had no sooner got them on than out rushed the tiger and carried him away in its mouth.

FOOTNOTES:

[260] Alluding to a well-known expression which occurs in the _Historical Record_, and is often used in the sense of deriving advantage from connection with some influential person.

[261] Without any regard to precedence, which plays quite as important a part at a Chinese as at a western dinner-party. In China, however, the most honoured guest sits at (what may be called) the head of the table, the host at the foot. I say “what may be called,” as Chinese dining-tables are almost invariably square, and position alone determines which is the head and which the foot. They are usually made to accommodate eight persons; hence the fancy name “eight-angel table,” in allusion to the eight famous angels, or Immortals, of the Taoist religion. (See No. V., note 48.) Occasionally, round tables are used; especially in cases where the party consists of some such number as ten.

[262] It is almost impossible to give in translation the true spirit of a Chinese antithetical couplet. There are so many points to be brought out, each word of the second line being in opposition both in tone and sense to a corresponding word in the first, that anything beyond a rough rendering of the idea conveyed would be superfluous in a work like this. Suffice it to say that Miao has here successfully capped the verse given; and the more so because he has introduced, through the medium of “sword” and “shattered vase,” an allusion to a classical story in which a certain Wang Tun, when drunk with wine, beat time on a vase with his sword, and smashed the lip.

[263] This is the _vel ego vel Cluvienus_ style of satire, his own verse having been particularly good.

[264] Many candidates, successful or otherwise, have their verses and essays printed, and circulate them among an admiring circle of friends.

[265] Accurately described in Tylor’s _Primitive Culture_, Vol. I., p. 75:--“Each player throws out a hand, and the sum of all the fingers shown has to be called, the successful caller scoring a point; practically each calls the total before he sees his adversary’s hand.” The insertion of the word “simultaneously” after “called” would improve this description. This game is so noisy that the Hong-kong authorities have forbidden it, except within certain authorised limits, between the hours of 11 p.m. and 6 a.m.--Ordinance No. 2 of 1872.

[266] This delicate stroke is of itself sufficient to prove the truth of the oft-quoted Chinese saying, that all between the Four Seas are brothers.

[267] The “substitution” theory by which disembodied spirits are enabled to find their way back to the world of mortals. A very interesting and important example of this belief occurs in a later story (No. CVII.), for which place I reserve further comments.

XLVI.

THE SISTERS.

His Excellency the Grand Secretary Mao came from an obscure family in the district of Yeh, his father being only a poor cow-herd. At the same place there resided a wealthy gentleman, named Chang, who owned a burial-ground in the neighbourhood; and some one informed him that while passing by he had heard sounds of wrangling from within the grave, and voices saying, “Make haste and go away; do not disturb His Excellency’s home.” Chang did not much believe this; but subsequently he had several dreams in which he was told that the burial-ground in question really belonged to the Mao family, and that he had no right whatever to it. From this moment the affairs of his house began to go wrong;[268] and at length he listened to the remonstrances of friends and removed his dead elsewhere.