The districts in China most favoured by nature are, without doubt, Hang-Tcheou and Sou-Tcheou. The first possesses the lake of Sou-Hou, rich in beautiful surroundings. The river Tchinn-Houai flows through the second.
A very popular Chinese proverb says:
“Heaven is what is most beautiful in the skies, on earth it is Sou and Hang.”
“Heaven is what is most beautiful in the skies, on earth it is Sou and Hang.”
In the evening the lake and the river are covered with illuminated pleasure boats. Songs and laughter echo on every side.The banks are covered with villas glittering with light, where happy faces and charming features may be seen.
These villas are inhabited by the most beautiful women, who come to this wonderful land to admire the beautiful scenery, and to be admired in their turn. It has been said—such is the reputation of this enchanting spot—that at Hang-Tcheou the moon, instead of being sad at times, is always very happy, as if to share in the general gladness. What songs of love has she not inspired, what poems, what music, born of the contemplation of her orb, more beautiful here than anywhere else. I will add that the prettiest women in China are born in these two provinces.
Sou-Tcheou has, besides its river, a lake called Tai-Hou, in which are a number of mountainous islands. The most celebrated of these are the Toung-Ting-Chan group, which are much loftier than the others. In autumn, when the Virginia creepers have turned to red amidst the green of the pine-treesand the bamboo, the aspect is a most picturesque one.
To the west of the town there is a mountain known as the “Magic Rock,” where there is the grotto of Si-Si, the favourite of Prince Ou-Ouang of Sou-Tcheou, the most beautiful woman in China, and quite close to it are the Lake of Flowers, the Pathways of Pleasant Odours, and the King’s Peak. From the top of this peak, a view of the Toung-Ting mountain, rising a mass of green out of the snow-white lake, may be obtained.
There is another mountain to the north-east, called Fou-Kiou, or the Tomb of the Panther. The story is, that when Emperor Tchin-Sse-Houang wanted to break into the tomb of Prince Ou-Ouang, a tiger appeared on the tomb and protected it, whence its name. Lower down is a tomb which has been preserved for over eight centuries, and which contains the body of a young woman renowned for her misfortunes in love. The few poems of hers that have survived are so very sad, that all persons of a romanticturn of mind who have read them never fail to pay a visit to her tomb, and to cover it with flowers.
Here is a short poem written by this heartbroken woman:
“I prostrate myself before the Buddhist Virgin, so full of pity and of charity,To beg her to grant that in my future life I may neither revisit earth nor tarry in Paradise;I pray that she may bless me with a drop of dew at the end of her willow branch,So that I may become a double lotus blossom.”
“I prostrate myself before the Buddhist Virgin, so full of pity and of charity,To beg her to grant that in my future life I may neither revisit earth nor tarry in Paradise;I pray that she may bless me with a drop of dew at the end of her willow branch,So that I may become a double lotus blossom.”
“I prostrate myself before the Buddhist Virgin, so full of pity and of charity,To beg her to grant that in my future life I may neither revisit earth nor tarry in Paradise;I pray that she may bless me with a drop of dew at the end of her willow branch,So that I may become a double lotus blossom.”
“I prostrate myself before the Buddhist Virgin, so full of pity and of charity,
To beg her to grant that in my future life I may neither revisit earth nor tarry in Paradise;
I pray that she may bless me with a drop of dew at the end of her willow branch,
So that I may become a double lotus blossom.”
The third line contains an allusion to the Buddhist ceremony of aspersion. The double lotus-flower is supposed to bear on the same stalk a male and a female blossom. It is the emblem of the union of two hearts and of happy loves.
The marble of the tomb is covered with inscriptions made by the visitors. Most of these are in verse, of the same metre and with the same rhymes used by the dead poetess.
Some way off is another mountain, whereLao-Tse spent a long time in meditation. In the centre of this mountain is a large lake, known as the “Celestial Lake,” where, in summer, lotuses of extraordinary size may be seen in flower. It used to be said that by eating these flowers one attained immortality.
All this district is full of celebrated places and of historical sites. Generally speaking, there is a monastery on the top of each of the mountains. In the middle of the spring all the ladies of the district make offerings to Buddha.
Those who admire pretty women take advantage of this custom to come and stare at the ladies.
The monastery is reached in sedan-chairs. The ladies go down again backwards. I never could understand the reason of this strange custom until chance brought under my notice these two lines, written in the seventeenth century by a woman:
“I go down stepping backwards, and you follow me face to face,So that it is not necessary for me to turn my head round at each step.”
“I go down stepping backwards, and you follow me face to face,So that it is not necessary for me to turn my head round at each step.”
“I go down stepping backwards, and you follow me face to face,So that it is not necessary for me to turn my head round at each step.”
“I go down stepping backwards, and you follow me face to face,
So that it is not necessary for me to turn my head round at each step.”
There are even more celebrated places at Hang-Tcheou. In the first place, there is Si-Hou, mentioned above. An avenue of weeping willows surrounds the whole lake, and the branches of the trees droop down into the water. Behind is an immense panorama of mountains—the Phœnix Mountain, the Mountains of the Screen of Stone, the Solitary Mountain, and the Mountain of the Pumpkin, which was the favourite walk of Emperor Tchin-Sse-Houang. This destroyer of books used often to land at the foot of this mountain, leaving his boat on the lake while he made his excursion. Then there are the Mountain of Music, against which the current breaks and is driven back with terrible noise; the Mountain of the White Dragon, the Mountain of Sans-Souci, where may still be found the utensils in which the immortals, according to the legend, used to prepare their magic remedies in the old days. I may also name the Celestial Pillar, the Fist, the Eye of Heaven, and the Marble Mirror, which is formedof a huge round rock so smooth and polished, that one can see his reflection in it as in a mirror. Emperor Tchiao-Tchung, of the Thang family, used often to give dinners on this marble table. The guests used to spread their cloaks out on the rocks which stand around, and on this account the Emperor called these rocks Marechal-I-King, which means the embroidered garment. The following story is told about the Flying Mountain: “An Indian priest, seeing it for the first time, appeared quite dumfounded with astonishment. He was asked what was the matter. ‘This mountain,’ he answered, ‘belongs to my country. I do not know when it can have flown here.’”
Beyond the summit of the Ten Thousand Pine Trees, we see the Mountain of the Red Twilight, so called because in the spring the peach-trees, with which it is covered, blossom with their pink flowers, and give this mountain the appearance of being bathed in the ruddy glow of dawn or twilight.
In this district there are a number oflittle lakes and merry rivulets, which have poetic names. A part of the shore of Si-Hou is called the Quay of Master Sou, because Sou-Toung-Po had nenuphars and other flowers planted there. Many poets have written about this lake. The most celebrated is the following, which was written by Sou-Toung-Po:
“Compare the lake to Si-Si.It is more simple and prettier, because it is less made up.”
“Compare the lake to Si-Si.It is more simple and prettier, because it is less made up.”
“Compare the lake to Si-Si.It is more simple and prettier, because it is less made up.”
“Compare the lake to Si-Si.
It is more simple and prettier, because it is less made up.”
A more modern author says:
“The traveller finds himself in the middle of a picture, and can easily believe that all these picturesque constructions are made of embroidery, so I am no longer surprised that the Choung dynastyPreferred this lake to the half of their empire.”
“The traveller finds himself in the middle of a picture, and can easily believe that all these picturesque constructions are made of embroidery, so I am no longer surprised that the Choung dynastyPreferred this lake to the half of their empire.”
“The traveller finds himself in the middle of a picture, and can easily believe that all these picturesque constructions are made of embroidery, so I am no longer surprised that the Choung dynastyPreferred this lake to the half of their empire.”
“The traveller finds himself in the middle of a picture, and can easily believe that all these picturesque constructions are made of embroidery, so I am no longer surprised that the Choung dynasty
Preferred this lake to the half of their empire.”
The following is still more enthusiastic:
“Ten leagues of lotuses and an autumn rich in koue flowersAttract the sovereign to them.The new melody, entitled, ‘Song of the Willows,’Is sung by every mouth.This is what has changed the capital of the empire,And has caused Pien-Theou to be deserted for Hang-Tcheou.”
“Ten leagues of lotuses and an autumn rich in koue flowersAttract the sovereign to them.The new melody, entitled, ‘Song of the Willows,’Is sung by every mouth.This is what has changed the capital of the empire,And has caused Pien-Theou to be deserted for Hang-Tcheou.”
“Ten leagues of lotuses and an autumn rich in koue flowersAttract the sovereign to them.The new melody, entitled, ‘Song of the Willows,’Is sung by every mouth.This is what has changed the capital of the empire,And has caused Pien-Theou to be deserted for Hang-Tcheou.”
“Ten leagues of lotuses and an autumn rich in koue flowers
Attract the sovereign to them.
The new melody, entitled, ‘Song of the Willows,’
Is sung by every mouth.
This is what has changed the capital of the empire,
And has caused Pien-Theou to be deserted for Hang-Tcheou.”
Another poem, the last, says:
“The perfumed zephyr embalms the light of the moon,Athwart the twelve stories of the mountain;The Court ascends in the night to the Pavilion of Leisure,Enjoying the panorama from above,Which offers a charming view at the moment when all the houses are lighting up.”
“The perfumed zephyr embalms the light of the moon,Athwart the twelve stories of the mountain;The Court ascends in the night to the Pavilion of Leisure,Enjoying the panorama from above,Which offers a charming view at the moment when all the houses are lighting up.”
“The perfumed zephyr embalms the light of the moon,Athwart the twelve stories of the mountain;The Court ascends in the night to the Pavilion of Leisure,Enjoying the panorama from above,Which offers a charming view at the moment when all the houses are lighting up.”
“The perfumed zephyr embalms the light of the moon,
Athwart the twelve stories of the mountain;
The Court ascends in the night to the Pavilion of Leisure,
Enjoying the panorama from above,
Which offers a charming view at the moment when all the houses are lighting up.”
This will suffice to give an idea of these landscapes, the most beautiful in China. The views are of infinite variety, and each point has some natural charm, or has attaching to it some memorable event, historical or legendary. So it is very difficult to represent all there is to be described here, even with the paint-brush. Man is unable to portray all the beauties which Nature, the real artist, so prodigiously displays.
There was a tropical heat that day, not a breath of wind stirring, and not a shady corner to be found anywhere. It was one of those stifling and suffocating days of our Chinese summer. I was trying to find some place where to spend the afternoon with some degree of comfort, when some one knocked at my door.
They were friends of mine, who had come to ask me to go bathing with them. They had been considerate enough to bring a sedan-chair for my use with them, and so off we went.
Beyond the N.E. gate of Fou-Tcheouthere is a warm sulphurous spring, which is very much frequented by the inhabitants of the town. Some go and bathe in the common pool, which is reserved for the cure of diseases of the skin; others, who come either for cleanliness or merely for pleasure, take private cabins. I need not say that there are separate pools for the two sexes.
There is nothing picturesque about the bathing pools, and so I will not describe them; but I should like to say a few words about the inner arrangements, which have nothing in common with those in similar establishments in Europe or Turkey.
The house is always built in the middle of lofty trees, and its foundations are sunk, wherever possible, in a running stream. The building, which is one or, at most, two storeys in height, is reached through a vast peristyle. The shape of the house is either round or square, either all in glass, or else abundantly lighted with windows made of silk, or of transparent paper, in carved wood frames. Against the windowson the front are placed little tables, spaced out like those in a restaurant. The cabins are behind. As soon as the bathers arrive they are received by the employés, and, when they have taken their seats, tea and pipes of tobacco are served. At the same time each bather receives some water-melon seeds to help him to while away the time whilst he is waiting for his bath. Then the water-carriers begin to busy themselves, carrying smoking pails of hot water, which they have just drawn from the spring.
There is a round bath in each cabin, and across it is laid a plank, on which the bather sits without plunging his body into the water. He is provided with a large sponge, and uses it to sponge himself all over with the hot water in the bath. As soon as the bath is finished the bather dresses and returns to his table, where a lunch is served, composed of light and exquisite dishes. Here the bathers drink wine, laugh, and talk, or play at the game which resembles the Italian game of “morra,” where youhave to guess the number of fingers which are held up by the players. The loser has to drink. Fortunately the cups are very small, or it wouldn’t be possible to lose very often. After dinner, card games are played, or chess, or dominoes. An orchestra attached to the establishment plays its sweetest melodies.
Thus the rest of the afternoon is spent in the fresh air, under the shadow of the high trees, with their thick leaves. It is, as you see, a kind of hydropathic casino. As soon as the sun has set, and before the moon is too bright, a move homewards is made across the fields in the sedan-chairs.
In the north the baths are inside the towns, and thus are not so well situated as where they are in the country. The arrangements are, however, almost the same as those I have described, except that incense is burned in each cabin, and in such quantities, that as you enter the thick smoke gets into your eyes and makes them smart and water. The reader will notice that Ionly speak about warm baths. I must explain that the Chinese do not like cold baths, which they consider to be very bad for the health. It is only the children of people living by the river-sides who take cold baths. Cold water is so generally disliked in China, that lukewarm water is almost always used for washing. We won’t even drink cold water, and that is one of the reasons why tea is so largely used at home, the infusion giving us an excuse for drinking hot water.
Kite-flying, which since the earliest ages has been popular in China, is, without possible contradiction, the game which best exercises the bodies of children. The boy runs back, comes, goes, pulls at the string, winds it up, inhales the fresh air with all his lung-power, and develops his strength and his skill at one and the same time.
In Northern and Central China it is in the spring that this pastime is indulged in; in the south it is in the autumn. Our kites, as a rule, are much larger than those used in Europe, and we designate their sizes by the number of pieces of paperthat have been used in their manufacture. Thus we speak of “two-paper,” “three-paper,” and “thirty-two-paper” kites. The last are very much taller than a man.
The form varies very much. Our “paper eagles,” as we call them, are made in every conceivable shape—butterflies, beetles, birds of the most varied sizes and species, monstrous dragons, are all in turn modelled in the manufacture of these charming toys.
The strings vary, according to the size of the kite, in thickness from the finest thread to cord often several millimètres thick. In the season, the sky is clouded with these artificial birds, casting fantastic shadows as they float in the ethereal blue.
It is said that, one day, a player having to absent himself for a moment, tied the string of his kite to the cradle in which his child was sleeping. When he came back he found that his kite had got away, carrying the cradle and the child with it. Neither were ever seen or heard of again.
The very large kites do not always carry children away, but, on the other hand, they often are very quarrelsome beings. The kites which are intended for the purpose of aerial warfare can be recognised by the colour of the paper that they are made of. One can thus see at once what is the character—pacific or bellicose—of each new comer. Often, the two possessors of the fighting kites cannot see each other, but only the two kites they are fighting with. Each child tries by skilful manœuvring of the string to get his kite behind that of his adversary, and hook it on to the other. When he has done this, he draws his string in, and, if he is the stronger, is able to bring both kites down to the ground, cuts the string of the enemy’s kite, patches up its wounds, and adds it to his collection. Other kites are more peaceful, devoted as they are to music—the civilising art. A bow, crossed by several parallel chords, is fastened to the three strings which cross the face of the flying-machine, and thewind, playing through these cords, causes them to vibrate, giving the music of the Æolian harp. Some children get to be very skilful at this game, and it is really an interesting sight to see them vieing in force and ruse with each other to obtain these never bloody victories.
Our forefathers used to say that to find pleasure it must be sought for either on the mountains or on the water, and it is quite true that if you want to enjoy fine weather, you must look out for some place where the views are varied. But, as Mahomet very wisely remarked, the mountains won’t come to us, and we must go to the mountains. It must also be remarked that there are many flat districts in China where there are no mountains to be found, whilst water can be found everywhere; besides, mountain-climbing is fatiguing, whilst excursions on the water in flower-decked canoes, comfortablyfitted, afford both repose and pleasure, cradled as one is by the rhythmic cadence of the oars. When the wind is strong enough to allow of a sail being hoisted, you feel almost as light as a bird flying in space; and let the illusion last ever so short a time, you fancy you have been transformed into a member of the aerial world of genii, pursuing in cloudland a life of eternal happiness.
My countrymen have in all ages taken special pleasure in excursions on the water. Under the dynasty of the Sungs—that is, in the twelfth century—Lake Loi was very much frequented. The shores were planted all round with weeping willows, and the moon seemed to lose seven-tenths of her brightness under the gleam of the numberless illuminated boats sailing along to the sound of joyous music.
A poet has said:
“By moonlight on the twenty-four bridges,The sweet melody may everywhere be heard, the melody of flutes, sonorous at the lips of charming women.”
“By moonlight on the twenty-four bridges,The sweet melody may everywhere be heard, the melody of flutes, sonorous at the lips of charming women.”
“By moonlight on the twenty-four bridges,The sweet melody may everywhere be heard, the melody of flutes, sonorous at the lips of charming women.”
“By moonlight on the twenty-four bridges,
The sweet melody may everywhere be heard, the melody of flutes, sonorous at the lips of charming women.”
The river Tchiang-Hang became the favourite excursion under the reign of the Thangs. At the beginning of the spring people used to go out to it to collect aquatic flowers. This is expressed in these lines:
“On the third day of the third moon—the birth of spring—the banks of the river Tchiang-Hang are lined with pretty women.”
“On the third day of the third moon—the birth of spring—the banks of the river Tchiang-Hang are lined with pretty women.”
When Sung came to the throne, he used to make his excursions chiefly on Lake Si-Hou, the beautiful lake in the west, which we have already described. The skiffs flew like fly-shuttles across the loom, cutting through the light mist that rose from the water; and blue flags were to be seen on every tree. The lake used at that time to be called the Crucible for Melting Gold, a metaphor which is not without point.
Three centuries ago, under the reign of the Mings, the river Tching-Houai began to grow fashionable, and as the moon rose with the tide, thousands of boats, covering more than ten lis (Chinese miles), could be seen hieing hither, with their pearly blindscasting shadows which trembled on the trouble of the waters. All that has disappeared to-day. One must have been in these boats to understand the real pleasure of a taskless and careless life. They are like floating houses, furnished with the most refined luxury. Each boat is rowed by six oarsmen, and is fitted in the centre with a deck-house, which is divided off into several drawing-rooms. Nothing more artistically and comfortably arranged can be found even in the wealthiest houses in Europe. In the evening, bright lights shine through the window-panes of all the cabins, and it is as if the water were furrowed up with thousands of meteors shedding their joyful brightness far and wide. No; there is no better mode of locomotion. On the water there is no dust; you do not run, you skim along, and the slow progress of the skiff gives you time to enjoy the varied aspects of the country, studded as it is with clusters of sombre and silent trees. Then all that a carriage can do for you is to convey you; you can’t settledown in a carriage. These boats, on the other hand, are so many houses, where whole families or large parties can meet together and dwell. To conclude, the boat alone deprives the landscape of its immobility, animates it, and gives it movement and life; it renders Nature herself more gay and more poetical.
A rather curious coincidence exists in the two antipodes of the globe. In France, when a man retires from business or from official life, he says, “I am going to plant cabbages.” In China we say, “I am going to retire into the mountains, or into the forest.” This is another way of saying that he is going to give himself up to gardening. This coincidence is caused by the fact that the same tastes exist everywhere. When a man has had enough of the occupations of an active life, he is glad to withdraw completely from them, and to devote himself to innocent pleasure, which provides exercisefor the body and rest for the mind, and charms with peace the last days of his life. What is called the world differs but little. When one is tired of its battles, it is that other world, the world of nature, that alone one yearns after.
In our history, as in our poetry, we are constantly reading of men of the widest fame who only lived in the hope of being able to retire at last. They often used to be heard saying that their gardens were running to waste for want of cultivation; and this thought is so popular a one, that even those who cling to their offices follow the example of the others, and constantly repeat that they are dying with the longing to go and cultivate their gardens. A philosopher thus characterises this contradiction between the word and the act:
“Everybody expresses the desire to retire,But in the middle of the forest I never meet anybody.”
“Everybody expresses the desire to retire,But in the middle of the forest I never meet anybody.”
“Everybody expresses the desire to retire,But in the middle of the forest I never meet anybody.”
“Everybody expresses the desire to retire,
But in the middle of the forest I never meet anybody.”
However this may be, it is certain that a number of people do caress this dreamof a rural life, and do finally put it into execution.
“O rus quando te aspiciam,” is true in every age, and in every land; on the banks of the blue river, as well as in the severe landscapes of ancient Rome, or on the sunny landscapes of modern France.
The poet Tou-Fou himself, when his functions at Court allowed him a few moments of leisure, took great delight in donning gardener’s clothes, as is shown by the following lines:
“I met Tou-Fou at the foot of the Fan-Kou mountain, wearing a straw hat in the full heat of the sun.‘Why are you so thin?’ I asked him.‘Because,’ he answered, ‘I have been making too many verses of late.’”
“I met Tou-Fou at the foot of the Fan-Kou mountain, wearing a straw hat in the full heat of the sun.‘Why are you so thin?’ I asked him.‘Because,’ he answered, ‘I have been making too many verses of late.’”
“I met Tou-Fou at the foot of the Fan-Kou mountain, wearing a straw hat in the full heat of the sun.‘Why are you so thin?’ I asked him.‘Because,’ he answered, ‘I have been making too many verses of late.’”
“I met Tou-Fou at the foot of the Fan-Kou mountain, wearing a straw hat in the full heat of the sun.
‘Why are you so thin?’ I asked him.
‘Because,’ he answered, ‘I have been making too many verses of late.’”
Tao-Yen-Ming, the man of letters, is the author of a long piece, entitled “Back in the Country,” of which the following is the principal passage:
“My garden was just beginning to run wild,But happily there still remain pines and chrysanthemums.Having cultivated myself I return home,Where my young boy jumps into my lap,And a vase of wine awaits me on the table.”
“My garden was just beginning to run wild,But happily there still remain pines and chrysanthemums.Having cultivated myself I return home,Where my young boy jumps into my lap,And a vase of wine awaits me on the table.”
“My garden was just beginning to run wild,But happily there still remain pines and chrysanthemums.Having cultivated myself I return home,Where my young boy jumps into my lap,And a vase of wine awaits me on the table.”
“My garden was just beginning to run wild,
But happily there still remain pines and chrysanthemums.
Having cultivated myself I return home,
Where my young boy jumps into my lap,
And a vase of wine awaits me on the table.”
And this man of letters, in spite of repeated invitations from the Emperor, contented himself with living and dying in the midst of his chrysanthemums, which he loved passionately.
We are not, however, satisfied in China with mere cultivation, but have succeeded in developing our gardening operations into a real work of art. What with watering, grafting, the selection and scientific combinations of species, the great varieties both of our plants and our skill in shaping them into the most varied and most fantastic shapes, our gardens are veritable masterpieces of the art. The Chinese gardeners know how to transform their gardens into zoological gardens, cutting and bending their trees, as they do, into lions, dragons, and every other kind of animal. We are so fond of flowers, that a single spray is considered sufficient for a bouquet. One neversees those round bouquets of several kinds of flowers, which are fashionable in Europe, at home.
Listen to the following verses written by an amateur gardener:
“What an admirable sight is this sunset,Which like Bengal fire shows everything ‘en rose,’The flowers seem much prettier,And the birds hop about, chirping on the branches of the bamboo.The wind has calmed down, the trees are wrapped in silence,And shades are stealthily creeping over all the land.My breast swells, but as much with fresh air as with gladness.But, alas, the day, approaching its end, holds no further prospect of happiness.”
“What an admirable sight is this sunset,Which like Bengal fire shows everything ‘en rose,’The flowers seem much prettier,And the birds hop about, chirping on the branches of the bamboo.The wind has calmed down, the trees are wrapped in silence,And shades are stealthily creeping over all the land.My breast swells, but as much with fresh air as with gladness.But, alas, the day, approaching its end, holds no further prospect of happiness.”
“What an admirable sight is this sunset,Which like Bengal fire shows everything ‘en rose,’The flowers seem much prettier,And the birds hop about, chirping on the branches of the bamboo.The wind has calmed down, the trees are wrapped in silence,And shades are stealthily creeping over all the land.My breast swells, but as much with fresh air as with gladness.But, alas, the day, approaching its end, holds no further prospect of happiness.”
“What an admirable sight is this sunset,
Which like Bengal fire shows everything ‘en rose,’
The flowers seem much prettier,
And the birds hop about, chirping on the branches of the bamboo.
The wind has calmed down, the trees are wrapped in silence,
And shades are stealthily creeping over all the land.
My breast swells, but as much with fresh air as with gladness.
But, alas, the day, approaching its end, holds no further prospect of happiness.”
Do not think that to be happy the Chinaman must have a large estate. It is the quality of the philosopher to be satisfied with very little. A small plot of land is all-sufficient for his happiness, provided he has a few square yards of soil in which to plant his bamboo and his favourite flowers.
The following is a poem written by a man of letters, who lived in a cottage, and consoled himself in this wise:
“There is no reason why the mountain should be lofty;It is celebrated by the genius who inhabits it.Water need not be deep, if it is inhabited by a dragon.My home is only a cottage, sheltering my virtue and my person.Moss covers the steps; and the green of the lawnIs reflected through my window-blinds;But only men of letters come to laugh and to talk with me.No vulgar man ever sets his foot here.We can have nice games of skill.We can read nice Buddhist books.No sound of music troubles my ears.No political element absorbs our minds.I compare my cottage to the celebrated cottage of Nan-Yang,Or to the historical pavilion of Si-Seu.”
“There is no reason why the mountain should be lofty;It is celebrated by the genius who inhabits it.Water need not be deep, if it is inhabited by a dragon.My home is only a cottage, sheltering my virtue and my person.Moss covers the steps; and the green of the lawnIs reflected through my window-blinds;But only men of letters come to laugh and to talk with me.No vulgar man ever sets his foot here.We can have nice games of skill.We can read nice Buddhist books.No sound of music troubles my ears.No political element absorbs our minds.I compare my cottage to the celebrated cottage of Nan-Yang,Or to the historical pavilion of Si-Seu.”
“There is no reason why the mountain should be lofty;It is celebrated by the genius who inhabits it.Water need not be deep, if it is inhabited by a dragon.My home is only a cottage, sheltering my virtue and my person.Moss covers the steps; and the green of the lawnIs reflected through my window-blinds;But only men of letters come to laugh and to talk with me.No vulgar man ever sets his foot here.We can have nice games of skill.We can read nice Buddhist books.No sound of music troubles my ears.No political element absorbs our minds.I compare my cottage to the celebrated cottage of Nan-Yang,Or to the historical pavilion of Si-Seu.”
“There is no reason why the mountain should be lofty;
It is celebrated by the genius who inhabits it.
Water need not be deep, if it is inhabited by a dragon.
My home is only a cottage, sheltering my virtue and my person.
Moss covers the steps; and the green of the lawn
Is reflected through my window-blinds;
But only men of letters come to laugh and to talk with me.
No vulgar man ever sets his foot here.
We can have nice games of skill.
We can read nice Buddhist books.
No sound of music troubles my ears.
No political element absorbs our minds.
I compare my cottage to the celebrated cottage of Nan-Yang,
Or to the historical pavilion of Si-Seu.”
Moreover, has not Confucius written as follows?—
“There is no misery where there is no complaint.”
“There is no misery where there is no complaint.”
“There is no misery where there is no complaint.”
“There is no misery where there is no complaint.”
I pause here to tell an anecdote:
“A foreign diplomat told me one day, whilst we were sitting chatting and smoking cigarettes in his study, that under the reign of Frederick the Great a Chinese dignitary came to Berlin. He was well received at Court, and introduced forthwith to a professor, who enjoyed a great reputation in the German capital for his translations of Chinese literature and his lessons in the Chinese language.“The mission of this Chinese dignitary lasted several years, at the end of which time a real professor arrived from abroad. He was at once brought into the presence of the Chinese professor.“Imagine his stupefaction when he discovered that this individual was not a professor at all, and that his real profession was that of a gardener. He had been forced to play the rôle of professor against his will. He was taken to be a savant, and a savant he had to be. On his arrival in Germany he had been at once considered a man of letters on the strength of his appearance only, without having to give any proof of his capacities, or to pass any examination. Not to injure this victim of a mistake, and to take advantage of his talents, he was appointed gardener at Sans-Souci, where, as it happens, I noticed several specimens of Chinese gardening operations.”
“A foreign diplomat told me one day, whilst we were sitting chatting and smoking cigarettes in his study, that under the reign of Frederick the Great a Chinese dignitary came to Berlin. He was well received at Court, and introduced forthwith to a professor, who enjoyed a great reputation in the German capital for his translations of Chinese literature and his lessons in the Chinese language.
“The mission of this Chinese dignitary lasted several years, at the end of which time a real professor arrived from abroad. He was at once brought into the presence of the Chinese professor.
“Imagine his stupefaction when he discovered that this individual was not a professor at all, and that his real profession was that of a gardener. He had been forced to play the rôle of professor against his will. He was taken to be a savant, and a savant he had to be. On his arrival in Germany he had been at once considered a man of letters on the strength of his appearance only, without having to give any proof of his capacities, or to pass any examination. Not to injure this victim of a mistake, and to take advantage of his talents, he was appointed gardener at Sans-Souci, where, as it happens, I noticed several specimens of Chinese gardening operations.”
I cannot vouch for the truth of the preceding anecdote, but, true or false, thestory is amusing enough to be related. After all, the man only had to change the course of his studies, and from being a professor of Chinese, developed into a professor of Chinese gardening.
A man of letters, named Ko-To-Tao (To-Tao means the humpback, a soubriquet given to the man whose real name nobody knew, and who seemed to enjoy his nickname), used to dwell in the village Foun-Lo (fertility and joy), which lies to the west of Tchiang-Nyang. He used to cultivate trees, which were so beautiful that they were the envy of all the rich people of the province, and all the traders bought from him. All the incomparable plants which came from his garden flourished and grew much quicker than any others. Some one asked him what was the secret of his success. He answered that there was no secret in the matter. All that he did was merely to study the individual character of the plant, and to treat it accordingly.
“When you plant a tree,” he said, “youmust make it comfortable, give it plenty of room to grow in, and see that the soil in which it is planted is rich and solid. Then you must leave it alone, not move it about. From time to time, treat it with the care that you would show to your own child. Don’t spoil it, when it is in want of nothing. Thus brought up the tree is free, and thrives, as it is its nature to do. I do not prevent its development, which comes of its own accord. Others who plant trees often change the earth round it, making it sometimes too strong, sometimes too poor, and spoil their pupils by too much care. Not satisfied with looking at them, they touch them; sometimes even they cut into the bark to see if they are living or dead. No sooner have the buds sprouted, than they examine them to see if they will turn into fruit. The tree is not free, and its character changes. You think that you are showing love, but you are destroying. You are trying to show care, and you are dealingdeath. That is why my system is superior to all others. But in all that I have no particular merit.”
He was asked if the same system could be applied in government offices.
“No; I know nothing about anything but trees. It is not my trade to govern nations. I have seen good governments, who, instead of leaving people free to work, took them under their protection. Then each day brought with it its sheaf of decrees and laws, ordering people into the fields and to their trades, and regulating their customs and ways of living. The people, being no longer master of itself or of its movements, comes to no good. As for myself, I am old and infirm, and occupy myself with my trees alone.”
The person who had been talking with him, delighted to have learned the true system of government, whilst endeavouring to learn how to plant trees, wrote down the conversation for the instruction of the government officials.
After all, there is little difference between the education of a tree and of a man. Our forefathers used to say that it takes a century to complete the education of a man, and that the proper education of a tree lasts at least ten years.
According to the Book of Rites, the Emperor and the Royal Princes had to go to the chase whenever politics allowed them any leisure. As for the people, the chase was a military exercise, which they took after harvest-time. The book of verses mentions stalking in carriages. Emperor Chuang-Ouong, after having reconquered the territory, used to hunt in his carriage with his feudal princes, so as to see which of them were likely to become the bravest soldiers. Holidays were selected for hunting excursions. There was also at that time a special government department, whose duty it was to see tothe preservation and propagation of certain kinds of animals.
In the winter it was the wolves that were hunted, in the summer the deer, in the spring all other kinds of animals. Birds were hunted in the autumn. Bows and arrows were used, and the sportsmen had reached to such a degree of skill in archery, that they could transfix a leaf at the top of a tree. A celebrated hunter, named Kia-Kieng, only shot with a bow, which was so strong and tough that it needed a force of three hundredweight to stretch the string. One day he was asked to shoot at a buffalo at a distance of one hundred paces. His first arrow grazed the animal’s back, tearing away a few hairs; the second grazed its belly. The archer was told that that was not good shooting. He said that it was just his superiority that he knew how not to pierce the animal. “But if you like,” he said, “I will do so.” His third arrow killed the buffalo.
With every shooting-party were takenan eagle and dogs, the latter wearing golden bells round their necks. At an official chase the Minister of War himself stood up on a high platform, and a large standard was displayed at his back. The hunters, who were always accompanied with a noisy orchestra, and standard-bearers carrying flags of every colour, pursued the quarry, as soldiers pursuing an enemy.
Excess in all being a fault, many official hunters, owing to the encouragement held out by the State, gave themselves up entirely to this sport, totally neglecting all public business. In consequence of this, the Censors and other reasonable people advised the sovereign to moderate the laws, preferring to deprive themselves of their pleasure in the interest of the commonwealth. The chase was accordingly somewhat restricted by law, and began to be neglected.
An Emperor of the dynasty of the Liangs, noticing when he was out one day shootingthat a flock of wild duck had settled down in the field before him, drew his bow, and was just about to let fly, when a peasant passed in his line of fire. In spite of the cries of the attendants the peasant walked on his way, deaf and blind to their cries and their signals. Meanwhile the birds flew away. The Emperor was very angry, and spoke of shooting the peasant. One of his ministers who was out sporting with him, said, “Don’t kill a man because game is wanting. A king must not be as savage as the beast that he hunts.”
His Majesty, recovering from his anger, smiled, and took the arm of his councillor to re-enter his carriage. When he had reached home empty-handed he said, “I have had a very successful day, for instead of bringing home a good bag, I have had a good lesson.”
Under the present dynasty the Court used to go out to the chase from time to time, and men of letters used to takepart in these excursions. Whenever a member of the Academy of Han-Lin shot a stag, he at once received a decoration of peacock’s feathers. Since about thirty years, however, this institution has been neglected, as we have only had minors on the throne. But as the reigning sovereign has reached his majority, it is probable that before long he will return to these pleasures, which are as useful as they are agreeable.
There are no game-laws in China. Everybody has the right to shoot wherever game is to be found. It is quite usual for a landowner to see sportsmen walking about his estates with their guns on their shoulders, doing as if they were on their own lands. The golden pheasant is found in great quantities in China. It is one of the favourite pastimes of Europeans who live in China to shoot these splendid birds. Amongst other feathered game that we possess in China, I may mention woodcock, snipe, quail, wild duck,and wild goose. In the way of fur we have stags, deer, roes, rabbits, and hares; besides foxes, wolves, bears, panthers, and tigers. Imitators of Nimrod will find plenty of sport in China.
If a certain number of men of letters take refuge in the pleasures of gardening, fishing also has its number of votaries. The bulk of these are men who, having lost all the illusions of life, and finding that politics are, after all, a hollow mockery, give themselves up to a quieter and less disappointing pastime.
The philosopher Tchang-Tseu used to fish on the banks of the river Han every day of his life. The Prince of Tchou, having heard him spoken about, sent an ambassador one day to the philosopher to beg him to enter the political life. Tchang-Tseu, his rod in his hand, spoke to thefish without condescending to give any answer, finding that it was not worth while to do so. Another, still further back in history, by name Lu-Chan, used to pass his days in fishing in the river Pien. Emperor Weng-Ouang went one day in person to beg him to become one of his councillors, and appointed him, on the spot, Guardian of the Sovereign. Lu-Chan accepted the offer, and helped his master to rule his empire. The dynasty lasted eight hundred years, so solidly had the basis of the government been established by the fisher-minister. His master was the first Emperor of China who got the name of Saint. The people were never happier than under his reign. So great was the general prosperity, that even now-a-days, when they want to speak of a happy people, the Chinese say, “As if they were walking about under the reign of Weng-Ouang.”
Another fisher, of Tsou-Kiang, who always trafficked his fish and wine, used to drink his fill, and then dance and sing inhis boat on the water, thinking himself the happiest man on earth. The prefect went to ask him if he was a genuine fisherman, or whether he concealed his identity under this disguise, and was a person of importance. “Never you mind,” he said to the prefect. “Historical persons fish for titles, I satisfy myself with fishing for fish.”
Under the reign of the Thangs, a man of letters, named Thiang-Tseu-Ho, withdrew on to the water and set up his abode on board a boat, which he called his floating-house, and gave himself the title of Fisher, in the midst of the waves and the mist. He published a quantity of songs for fishermen and oarsmen, which he was in the habit of singing on his aquatic excursions. The Emperor, taking pity on his solitude, sent, as a present, two servants, a young man and a young woman. The recluse married the two together, giving the name of Fisherman to the lad, and that of Shepherdess to the lass. The one looked after the fishing-tackle and rowed the boat, the other usedto go into the forest to gather dry wood and bamboos to make his tea.
History mentions the names of several fishermen of this philosophical class. There are besides these only professional fishermen, good folk who work hard, and live on very little.
Everybody knows that we have a goddess of the sea, but her story is not so generally known. She was the daughter of a family of fishermen who lived on the shore of Mei-Tcheou, quite close to Fou-Tcheou. Her father and her brothers used to go out fishing on the sea every day, each in his own boat, whilst she stayed at home to weave in the company of her old mother. She was adored by her parents, whom she loved very much. One day, during a storm which made everybody feel drowsy, she was dozing at the table, when she dreamed that her father’s boat was just going to sink in the angry sea, and putting out her hand she caught hold of the painter to draw it into land. Meanwhile she saw that the boats on which her brotherswere, were in the same danger. So, putting the first cord between her teeth, she caught hold of the two others in her hands, and began walking through the water towards the shore. But before she could reach the shore she began to groan and cry, and her mother began to shake her, calling her by name. To answer her mother she opened her mouth and let the cord that she held between her teeth escape. When she woke up she thought that this was a nightmare; but that evening, when her brothers came home, they told her that her father had been drowned. The young girl, in despair at not having been able to save her father, who had died through her fault, rushed out and threw herself into the sea. Some time after she was often seen in visions by fishermen in moments of distress, and it was noticed that whenever she appeared the danger was overcome. Out of gratitude her protégés erected a little temple in her honour. Little by little her miraculous protection was extended to the ships of travellers and great officials, andeven to the navy. For each service rendered to the State a title was given her, and little by little she became known by the appellation of “Holy Mother of Heaven,” a title which is accompanied by as many honorific qualifications as are worn by the sovereigns who delight to do her honour.