fan, he slowly waved it about the silken curtains, and the cool air, entering, enveloped and filled the pillows and bed. In winter, when the snow threatened to crush in the roof and the fierce wind shook the fences, and the cold penetrated to the bones, making it hazardous to unloose the girdle, then Hsiang warmed his father’s bed that he might not fear, because of the cold, to enter the “place of dreams.”
No. XI _The Gushing Fountain and the Frisking Carp_ In the Han dynasty lived Chiang Shih, who served his mother with perfect obedience; and his wife P‘ang also fulfilled her mother-in-law’s commands without the least reluctance. The old lady loved to drink of the water from the river six or seven li away from her cottage, and P‘ang used to go to draw it and hand it to her.
She was also fond of carp, and when it was obtained, deeming herself unable to consume alone what her children with great toil and trouble continually prepared for her, usually invited some of the neighbours to feast with her. By the side of the cottage there suddenly gushed a fountain, the taste of whose waters was like that of the river, and it also produced two living fishes daily. These were taken out and prepared by Chiang Shih for his mother.
The fish from the river were fresh and delicious, and the water was sweet; the mother of Chiang Shih wished to taste of both daily. Her son went to purchase the fish and her daughter-in-law to bring the water; as constantly as the revolution of morning and evening did they exert themselves in this arduous labour. Having obtained the fish and water, her countenance brightened, and, laughing, she invited in one of the neighbours to rejoice and partake of them with her. Sitting opposite at the table, together they ate them, she foolishly not even regarding, but totally forgetting, her son and daughter, who with so much trouble had prepared them for her. Heaven took pity on these two filial children, and employed its divine power to assist them, sending a spirit to strike the earth with an axe which caused a perennial spring to bubble forth. The taste of the water from the fountain was like that from the river, and two fish continually sported about in it, which henceforth Chiang Shih took out for their sustenance, nor was there any fear of the supply failing. To procure the fish now no money was needed, to obtain the water no long and weary walk was to be taken. It was as if the productions of this river and of the water were transferred into the midst of the cottage; and Chiang Shih could support his family with ease for many years.
No. XII _He carved Wood and served his Parents_ During the Han dynasty lived Ting Lan, whose parents both died when he was young, before he could obey and support them; and he reflected that for all the trouble and anxiety he had caused them, no recompense had yet been given. He then carved wooden images of his parents, and served them as if they had been alive. For a long time his wife would not reverence them; and one day, taking a bodkin, she pricked their fingers in derision. Blood flowed immediately from the wound; and seeing Ting coming, the images wept. He inquired into the circumstances, and forthwith divorced his wife.
He remembers his parents, but cannot see them; so he carves wood to represent their persons. He believes that their spirits are now the same as when they were alive, and his quietless heart trusts that their spirits have entered the carved images. He cannot rest until he has made their statues, so strong is his desire to nourish and reverence them. He now reveres them, although dead, as if they were alive; and hopes they will condescend to dwell in his ancestral hall.
No. XIII _For his Mother’s Sake he would bury his Child_ In the days of the Han dynasty lived Kuo Chü, who was very poor. He had one child three years old; and such was his poverty that his mother usually divided her portion of food with this little one. Kuo says to his wife: “We are so poor that our mother cannot be supported, for the child divides with her the portion of food that belongs to her. Why not bury this child? Another child may be born to us, but a mother, once gone, will never return.” His wife did not venture to object to the proposal, and Kuo immediately digs a hole about three cubits deep, when suddenly he lights upon a pot of gold, and on the metal reads the following inscription: “Heaven bestows this treasure upon Kuo Chü, the dutiful son; the magistrate may not seize it, nor shall the neighbours take it from him.”
What a foolish action, that the sage Kuo should be willing to bury his own child! Fearing lest his mother should not have enough to eat, he is willing to resign his child to death; but when it is dead, what relief will there be for the grief of its affectionate grandmother?
When a number of cares come at some future time, who then will be able to disperse them if the child is dead? But at this time the reflection that his mother would be in want filled his breast with grief, and he had no time to think of the future when he would be childless.
Heaven having given him a dutiful mind, caused him to take a light hoe for digging the earth. Together Kuo and his wife went, sorrowing and distressed, by the way, until they came to a very hilly place, where they stopped. Having dug into the ground, suddenly a gleam of light shot forth, and the pot of yellow gold which Heaven had deposited there was seen. Taking it up, they clasped their child with ecstasy in their arms and returned home; for now they had sufficient to support their whole family in plenty.
No. XIV _He seized the Tiger and saved his Father_ In the Han dynasty lived Yang Hsiang, a lad of fourteen, who was in the habit of following his father to the fields to cut grain. Once a tiger seized his father, and was slowly carrying him off, when Yang, anxious for his father and forgetting himself, although he had no iron weapon in his hand, rushed forward and seized the tiger by the neck. The beast let the prey fall from his teeth, and fled, and Yang’s father was thus saved from injury and death.
A tiger suddenly appears in the borders of the field, and seizes the man as lightly as he catches a sheep, and drags him off. Yang Hsiang, seeing the sudden peril of his father, was vexed that he had no weapon with an iron head; but being strongly excited and his feelings roused, he ran forward in the path, crying with a loud voice, and grasped the tiger by the neck. The frightened animal fled, nor stopped in its rapid course until it reached the high hills. Yang then, in a gentle manner, raised his father up and led him home, endeavouring to soothe his mind and dispel his fears, and also presented him the golden winecup.
Among the great number of sages whose reputations are famous, how few of them have been devoted and filial at the hazard of their lives!
But this lad, quite young and fair, as soon as he saw his father’s danger, risked his own life; surely his fame will spread throughout the country. We have heard of the lady T‘i Ying, who saved her father from banishment, and of young Chu O, who lost her life in trying to rescue her father from drowning; and I think that Yang Hsiang will form a trio with them, and the three be celebrated in the same ode.
No. XV _He collected Mulberries to support his Mother_ During the Han dynasty lived Ts‘ai Shun, whose father died when he was young, and who served his mother very dutifully. It happened that, during the troubles of the time, when Wang Mang was plotting to usurp the throne, there were years of scarcity, in which he could not procure food, and Ts‘ai was compelled to gather mulberries, which he assorted, putting them into two vessels. The red-eyebrowed robber[5] saw him, and inquired why he did thus. Ts‘ai replied: “The black and ripe berries I give to my mother, the yellow and unripe ones I eat myself.” The bandit admired his filial affection, and rewarded him with three measures of white rice and the leg of an ox.
Anxious and fearful, he seeks for food; untiring in his toil, he takes up his baskets and penetrates the thickets of the distant forests, where he finds many mulberry-trees. His hunger now has something to satisfy its cravings; he also remembers his mother, and that he must carry some to her. The ripe and unripe berries he does not put together, but divides them, so that mother and son can each have their proper portion. The chieftain heard of his conduct, and highly praised him, conferring a gift upon him, and speaking of his filial piety to all around. Taking up his rice and flesh, Ts‘ai returned home to his mother with the food; and in their joy they even forgot that the year was one of dearth.
No. XVI _He laid up the Oranges for his Mother_ Lu Chi, a lad six years old, who lived in the time of Han and in the district of Kinkiang, once met the celebrated general Yüan Shu, who gave him a few oranges. Two of them the lad put in his bosom, and when turning to thank the giver, they fell out on the ground. When the general saw this, he said: “Why does my young friend, who is now a guest, put the fruit away in his bosom?” The youth, bowing, replied: “My mother is very fond of oranges, and I wished, when I returned home, to present them to her.” At this answer Yüan was much astonished.
On account of his love for his parent, he would not at first taste the present of fruit, but put into his sleeve to carry home the fragrant and luscious gift. I think that when he saw his mother, her pleasant countenance must have brightened, for the fruit filled his bosom and delighted all who came near him. Lu, although so young, had the true heavenly disposition; even in the small matter of an orange he did not forget his parent’s wishes. Many children are perhaps like this boy, and those who requite their parents for the care bestowed upon them, we hope, are not few.
No. XVII _On hearing the Thunder he wept at the Tomb_ In the country of Wei lived Wang P‘ou, a very dutiful child, whose mother, when alive, was much afraid of thunder. After her death her grave was dug in the hilly forest; and whenever it blew and rained furiously, and Wang heard the sound of the chariot of the Thunder-goddess rolling along, he hastened immediately to the grave, and, reverently kneeling, besought her with tears, saying: “I am here, dear mother; do not be alarmed.” And afterwards, whenever he read in _The Book of Odes_ this sentence, “Children should have deep and ardent affection for their parents, who have endured so much anxiety in nourishing them,” the tears flowed abundantly at the recollection of his mother.
Suddenly the black clouds arise from the wilderness, whirled by the wind; he hears the distant mutter of thunder from the southern hills.
Heedless of the rain, hastily he speeds over the rugged path leading to the tomb, and as he goes round the grave his tones of grief and entreaty are heard. The roaring of the dreadful thunder affrights the ears of men, one clap following another in quick succession. If his kind mother, when alive, always dreaded the voice of Heaven’s majesty, how much more will she now, when lying alone in the depths of the wild forest! If P‘ou was with his mother, he knew she would be comforted; and he thinks that if in the green hills she has a companion, she will not be terrified. Afterwards, being successful, he refused to take the duties of an officer under the Emperor Ssŭ-ma, because he wished to go frequently to visit the grave of his parent. And when he was going and returning from it, he would weep at the recollection of his mother, and ask himself: “If I have not yet recompensed the care and trouble my mother endured for me, what more can I do?” And to this day, whenever scholars read the pages of the _Liu O_, they remember how tears bedewed the cheeks of Wang P‘ou.
No. XVIII _He wept to the Bamboos, and Shoots sprang up_ Mêng Tsung, who lived in the Chin dynasty, lost his father when young.
His mother was very ill, and one winter’s day she longed to taste a soup made of bamboo shoots, but Mêng could not procure any. At last he went into the bamboo grove, and, clasping the bamboos with his hands, wept bitterly. His filial love moved Nature, and the ground slowly opened, sending forth several shoots, which he gathered and carried home. He made a soup of them, which his mother tasted, and immediately recovered from her malady.
In winter, when the forests are unsightly and bare, and the bamboos sombre and gloomy, for plants to send forth their branches is surprising and unexpected. But it is impossible to root out the true filial nature from men who have it, although senseless and ignorant people, not understanding its power, ridicule them, calling them mad.
The young Mêng Tsung dutifully served his mother, and morning and evening waited on her to receive her commands. His mother was ill, and desired the delicacy of a soup made from bamboo shoots; but in dreary winter, Nature still concealed her fruits awaited. With anxious haste he goes to the cheerless forest, which he enters, seeking for them; but not finding the shoots, he entreats the bamboos with tears. One petition from his inmost heart ascended to the threshold of heaven, and the deities were delighted, laughing with pleasure. A miracle is wrought, the ordinary course of nature is reversed, and suddenly the pearly shoots appear in the forest.
No. XIX _He slept on Ice to procure Carp_ During the Chin dynasty lived Wang Hsiang, who early lost his mother, and whose stepmother Chu had no affection for him. His father also, hearing many evil reports against him, in course of time ceased to regard him with kindness. His mother was in the habit of eating fresh fish at her meals, but winter coming, the ice bound up the rivers. Wang unloosed his clothes, and went to sleep on the ice in order to seek them; when suddenly the ice opened of itself, and two carp leapt out, which he took up and carried to his mother. The villagers, hearing of the affair, were surprised, and admired one whose filial duty was the cause of such an unusual event.
The river is firmly bound up by ice, and the fish are hidden in their deep retreats. Perturbed and anxious, Wang goes out to seek the fish, apparently forgetting that it was winter. His resolution is fixed, and although it is at the risk of his life, he will go. He was not dismayed at the coldness of the snow, nor terrified at the fierceness of the winds. Even the wicked spirits were deterred from injuring him, and dared not molest him. If metals and stones can be opened, shall ice be considered too difficult to cleave? The frisking fish came up on the surface of the water, obedient to the hand of him who would take them out. A thousand ages cannot efface the remembrance of the crack in the ice, nor obliterate the fragrant traces of so worthy a deed.
No. XX _Wu Mêng fed the Mosquitoes_ Wu Mêng, a lad eight years of age, who lived in the Chin dynasty, was very dutiful to his parents. They were so poor that they could not afford to furnish their beds with mosquito-curtains; and every summer night myriads of mosquitoes attacked them without restraint, feasting upon their flesh and blood. Although there were so many, yet Wu would not drive them away from himself, lest they should go to his parents and annoy them. Such was his filial affection!
The buzzing of the mosquitoes sounds like _ying, ying_, and their united hum is almost equal to thunder. His tired parents are reclining on their bed, their countenances already sunk in slumber. Legions of mosquitoes fiercely attack them, alternately retreating and advancing.
The insects disturb the dreaming sleepers, and with annoyance they toss from side to side. Wu sees them sucking his parents’ blood, which causes his heart to grieve; his flesh, he thinks, can be easily pierced, but that of his parents is hard to penetrate. Lying on the bed, he threw off his clothes, and soon feeling the pain of their attacks, he cried: “I have no dread of you, nor have you any reason to fear me; although I have a fan, I will not use it, nor will I strike you with my hand. I will lie very quietly, and let you gorge to the full.”
No. XXI This story, commemorating Yü Ch‘ien-lou of the southern Ch‘i dynasty, is best left out.
No. XXII The same applies to this story, commemorating the Lady T‘ang of the T‘ang dynasty.
No. XXIII _He resigned Office to seek his Mother_ In the Sung dynasty lived Chu Shou-ch‘ang, whose mother, Liu, when he was seven years of age, left the family because she was hated by his father’s wife; and mother and son did not see each other for about fifty years. It was during the reign of Shên Tsung that Chu resigned his official station and went into the Ch‘in country, and there made an engagement with his family “that he would not return until he had found his mother.” He then travelled into T‘ung-chou, where he discovered his mother, who at that time was over seventy years of age.
Thus Chu exclaimed: “I have a mother; but, alas! separated, we abide in different villages. It was not the free will of my mother which led her thus to forsake her son, but the envious mistress who compelled her to go. Without a mother, on whom shall I rely? to whom shall I pour out my sorrows and cares? Now I am grown older and have become an officer, but as yet I have been unable to return the kindness of my parent. In what place, among all the countries under heaven, does she live? I am determined to resign my office and seek her abode, not deterred from the trouble of the search. To effect it, I will part from my family and no longer be a companion with them; I will not return till I find my mother, and they need not await in expectation of me.” Heaven directed his way, and he came into T‘ung-chou, where she resided. When the mother and the son met each other, joy and grief arose together—joy for the meeting after fifty years, sorrow that they had been so long apart. But now, in one hour, all their long-accumulated griefs were laid aside, and joy and gladness filled their hearts. Chu possesses the true heavenly disposition, and honours and riches cannot destroy his affection for his mother.
No. XXIV _He watched by his Mother’s Bedside_ In the Yüan-yu period of the Sung dynasty, Huang T‘ing-chien filled the office of prefect. He was of a very filial disposition, and although honourable and renowned, yet he received his mother’s commands with the utmost deference. When his mother was seized with illness, he watched her for a whole year without leaving her bedside or even taking off his clothes; and at her death he mourned so bitterly that he himself fell ill and nearly lost his life.
Well-written poetry flows along like rills meandering among the hills and valleys. This instance of a dutiful heart has not as yet been brought into much notice. For a whole year he tended his parent in her illness; and both she who dwelt in the curtained room (_i.e._ his mother) and he who remained in the hall (_i.e._ his father) strove to express the merits of their son. It would be difficult to find another child who would have done so—all would be dilatory and unwilling; and where shall we meet another who would undergo such drudgery himself with keenness and pleasure? Although raised to high office, he does not hesitate to perform the most troublesome and minute duties, for he loves his parents; how then can we suppose that he will change from what he was when young and unhonoured?
_Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._ FOOTNOTES: [5] That is, the usurper Wang Mang himself.