“Behind the white cloud there were still people living.”
“Behind the white cloud there were still people living.”
“Behind the white cloud there were still people living.”
“Behind the white cloud there were still people living.”
And, sure enough, the cabbage-leaf bespeaks the presence of man, who alone could transport cabbage-leaves to the top of a cloudy mountain.
The allusion is sufficiently concealed; but, in China, this habit of veiling one’s meaning is a very common one, and it is specially tobe noticed in the pictorial art. On the other hand, such subjects as the following are often suggested to painters: A red spot in the midst of green. One painter would paint on this theme a forest with a stork isolated on one tree; another would paint a red sunset in the green sea; another, a woman with red lips in a bamboo wood.
Artists, in China, never sell their pictures. They are always amateurs, and give their pictures away. The only art-wares which are trafficked in China are produced by workpeople, and belong to the category of decorative art. Sculpture is less cultivated at home by our amateurs, and one must know our sculptors to understand their ways. One of them once offered to make my bust. I went to his house, and he made me sit down in front of him. We were separated by a table, which was covered by a cloth which reached down to the ground. A very animated conversation began between us. My friend was a man of a very quick intelligence, and had a very original turn ofthought. I was quite taken up with what he was saying to me, but I still did notice that he kept his hands under the table, and this surprised me all the more that I observed after watching him some time that he was moving them with feverish activity. After I had been there about an hour, which had passed very quickly, thanks to our gossip, I was just going to rise, when my friend produced a mass of clay from beneath the table, and said, “Do you think that it is like you?”
I was not a little surprised to see that it was my bust, which, in spite of the rapidity with which it had been modelled, was very resembling; a thing which was very curious, as the artist had never once looked at the clay, but at my face alone. He must have had a wonderful skill to be able to use his fingers both as eyes and as tools, touch replacing sight.
This game differs very much from the one played in Europe, and which is the delight of thehabituésof the European chess clubs. In our game there are three hundred and sixty-one pawns, divided into two camps, one white and the other black. These pawns are like round draughts. The game is played on a square chess-board which has nineteen squares on each side. The players set down pawn after pawn, and the one who succeeds in closing his adversary in, so that there is no possible issue for him, wins the game. The skill in this game consists in closing your adversary in, andin taking as many of his pawns as possible—advancing wedge-like into his territory, without losing any of your own forces. It has been said that this game—the board of which represented the firmament, the stars being represented by the three hundred and sixty-one pawns—was invented by Emperor Yao, and used by him to instruct his children and teach them to think. It is, at the same time, a military game, representing a battle-field and two hostile camps, each doing its best to conquer the other. In short, it is rather a game of patience, for each game lasts a very long time, the reflection of a quarter or half-an-hour being sometimes needed before playing a pawn. On this account it is called “game of conversation,” for the player who is waiting for his adversary to play has plenty of leisure to talk. It is also known by another name, that of “meditation in solitude,” which seems a very good name for it. It is the favourite pastime of literary men, ladies, and especially of people whohave retired from business. The noise of the pawns as they are placed down on the different squares of the board, which is often engraved on a marble bench, under the shade of leafy trees, is considered a very poetical noise. The three things that one loves to hear, when one wishes to turn one’s thoughts towards what is pure and delicate, are the sounds of water falling, the wind among the trees, and the rattle of this game of chess. It has been said that under the reign of the Tching dynasty a woodcutter met two young men who were playing at chess at the top of a mountain. He watched them, and one of them gave him a kind of candied fruit which he swallowed. Before the game had been finished, he noticed that the handle of his axe had rotted away. He made haste back to his village, and could recognise none of the people he met, for several centuries had passed away since he had gone out. History also tells us that a statesman named Li-No was a very impatientman. But once seated at the chess-board his character completely changed; so that each time he felt that he was going to fly into a rage, his friends used to suggest a game of chess, and at once his good humour returned to him. One day the Emperor asked why he wasted at chess time which might be so much more profitably employed. He said that the moments during which a man forgets his worries are the most precious of all.
I read a very amusing little story in the “Memoirs of Sou-Toung-Pao.” Emperor Tai-Tsung used to play chess with one of his ministers. The sovereign used to give him three pawns; but the minister always managed to lose one at the end of each game. The Emperor, noticing that he was being allowed to win, said at last, “If you lose this one more game I shall have you revoked.” The game was played and ended in a draw. “One more game,” said the Emperor. “If you win it I will grant you the honour of wearing a red robe, butif you lose it I will have you dragged in the mud.” The game again ended in a draw. His Majesty, in a great rage, was pushing his minister towards the pond to throw him into the mud, when the minister cried out, “Softly, softly, your Majesty, I have got one pawn left over in my hand.” The sovereign smiled, and gave him the red robe that he had promised. The game is usually played in daytime in the summer and at night in the winter. Do not think that chess is played on any kind of table. The game demands a much more poetical setting, either trees or rocks, or a daintily furnished drawing-room, with tea and wine to be served between the games. It is considered a pleasure to watch the games, and it is etiquette never to give any advice to the players. Besides this game of chess we have another variety, which resembles the one played in Europe more closely. It is played on a draught-board which has nine squares one way and ten the other, with two sets of pieces, which are arrangedin three rows, five pawns in the front row and behind them two cannons. Three rows further back is the king, having on one side and the other two councillors, two elephants, two horses, and two carriages. The two camps, which cover each a space of nine squares, are separated one from the other by a single row of squares. The rules of this game are almost the same as in the European game. The pawns can only advance straight forward, and on only one square at a time; the cannons must always pass over a piece in a straight line; the carriages go straight ahead; the councillors go diagonally, and may not leave their camps; the elephants go straight ahead, backways or sideways—like the castles in the European game; the horses are moved like your knights; and, finally, the chief is played just like the king in the game here, and equally when the king is placed so that he is in check from one of the pieces of his adversary, without being able to get away or to take the piece, he is check-mated,and the game is lost. The pieces are not represented by figures, but have their designations written on them. Our industry, so profoundly artistic, has neglected to occupy itself with this game. On the other hand, we manufacture figures of carved ivory for export sets of chess.
Wine was first manufactured in China by a functionary named I-Ti, under the reign of Emperor U (22,000 years before Christ), from fermented rice. The sovereign was the first to taste this new beverage. He found it delicious, and said, “I am sure that hereafter there will be families of kings who will lose their thrones through drinking wine.” But his prophecy was never realised in spite of his prophetic tone, and literary men continue to indulge themselves in wine to their heart’s content. There is no party withoutwine, and no wine-party without poetry. But by no means do we intoxicate ourselves. I remember that, some years ago, a German deputy, criticising the law against drunkenness, pronounced these words:—“If your law is passed, the people alone will suffer, for the rich, after getting drunk on champagne in their private houses, can always manage to escape the notice of the police, for, if they have to go out, they can go out in their carriages.” The law was not passed. There would be no necessity for such a law in China, because the people there never get drunk. Our custom of seeking for happiness in drinking wine dates from the time of two celebrated poems, written by Li-Tai-Pe of the dynasty of the Thang family.
“Do you not see that the water of the Yellow River seems to come down from heaven,And throws itself into the sea without ever returning to its sources?Do you not see also that the mirrors in our drawing-rooms beweep our hairs,Which, black this morning, are now already white?When one is dissatisfied pleasure takes wing;The golden jug must not stand there motionless and untouched before the moon.Heaven has given us talents to make use of—Thus the money that we spend will always return to us.Let us slay the sheep, let us roast beef for our pleasure.When we meet, we will each empty three hundred glasses.You, Master Kien, and you, Ten-Kiou—the literary man—Lift your glasses without ceasing.I wish to sing to you, and I beg you to listen to me.Long since honours have ceased to have any value;I would rather be drunk than awake.Sages and philosophers were always too sad,Whilst topers remained gay.Prince Tcheng was not fond of music;He preferred to spend ten thousand crowns to buy a measure of wine.Do not say that you have no money—Continue to supply us.Take my horse, my fur coat, and go and exchange them for good wine,For I intend to forget, in your company, the cares of eternity.The wind brings with it the blossoms of the willow, which scent the whole room;And the beautiful lady who invites us to keep on drinking her wine.The people of Nan-King are there to bid farewell to their friends,Who, having to go, have not yet gone.Ask you of the water that flows to the east,If it is deeper than is the sorrow of our separation.”
“Do you not see that the water of the Yellow River seems to come down from heaven,And throws itself into the sea without ever returning to its sources?Do you not see also that the mirrors in our drawing-rooms beweep our hairs,Which, black this morning, are now already white?When one is dissatisfied pleasure takes wing;The golden jug must not stand there motionless and untouched before the moon.Heaven has given us talents to make use of—Thus the money that we spend will always return to us.Let us slay the sheep, let us roast beef for our pleasure.When we meet, we will each empty three hundred glasses.You, Master Kien, and you, Ten-Kiou—the literary man—Lift your glasses without ceasing.I wish to sing to you, and I beg you to listen to me.Long since honours have ceased to have any value;I would rather be drunk than awake.Sages and philosophers were always too sad,Whilst topers remained gay.Prince Tcheng was not fond of music;He preferred to spend ten thousand crowns to buy a measure of wine.Do not say that you have no money—Continue to supply us.Take my horse, my fur coat, and go and exchange them for good wine,For I intend to forget, in your company, the cares of eternity.The wind brings with it the blossoms of the willow, which scent the whole room;And the beautiful lady who invites us to keep on drinking her wine.The people of Nan-King are there to bid farewell to their friends,Who, having to go, have not yet gone.Ask you of the water that flows to the east,If it is deeper than is the sorrow of our separation.”
“Do you not see that the water of the Yellow River seems to come down from heaven,And throws itself into the sea without ever returning to its sources?Do you not see also that the mirrors in our drawing-rooms beweep our hairs,Which, black this morning, are now already white?When one is dissatisfied pleasure takes wing;The golden jug must not stand there motionless and untouched before the moon.Heaven has given us talents to make use of—Thus the money that we spend will always return to us.Let us slay the sheep, let us roast beef for our pleasure.When we meet, we will each empty three hundred glasses.You, Master Kien, and you, Ten-Kiou—the literary man—Lift your glasses without ceasing.I wish to sing to you, and I beg you to listen to me.Long since honours have ceased to have any value;I would rather be drunk than awake.Sages and philosophers were always too sad,Whilst topers remained gay.Prince Tcheng was not fond of music;He preferred to spend ten thousand crowns to buy a measure of wine.Do not say that you have no money—Continue to supply us.Take my horse, my fur coat, and go and exchange them for good wine,For I intend to forget, in your company, the cares of eternity.The wind brings with it the blossoms of the willow, which scent the whole room;And the beautiful lady who invites us to keep on drinking her wine.The people of Nan-King are there to bid farewell to their friends,Who, having to go, have not yet gone.Ask you of the water that flows to the east,If it is deeper than is the sorrow of our separation.”
“Do you not see that the water of the Yellow River seems to come down from heaven,
And throws itself into the sea without ever returning to its sources?
Do you not see also that the mirrors in our drawing-rooms beweep our hairs,
Which, black this morning, are now already white?
When one is dissatisfied pleasure takes wing;
The golden jug must not stand there motionless and untouched before the moon.
Heaven has given us talents to make use of—
Thus the money that we spend will always return to us.
Let us slay the sheep, let us roast beef for our pleasure.
When we meet, we will each empty three hundred glasses.
You, Master Kien, and you, Ten-Kiou—the literary man—
Lift your glasses without ceasing.
I wish to sing to you, and I beg you to listen to me.
Long since honours have ceased to have any value;
I would rather be drunk than awake.
Sages and philosophers were always too sad,
Whilst topers remained gay.
Prince Tcheng was not fond of music;
He preferred to spend ten thousand crowns to buy a measure of wine.
Do not say that you have no money—
Continue to supply us.
Take my horse, my fur coat, and go and exchange them for good wine,
For I intend to forget, in your company, the cares of eternity.
The wind brings with it the blossoms of the willow, which scent the whole room;
And the beautiful lady who invites us to keep on drinking her wine.
The people of Nan-King are there to bid farewell to their friends,
Who, having to go, have not yet gone.
Ask you of the water that flows to the east,
If it is deeper than is the sorrow of our separation.”
Another poet of a later date used also to give himself up to immoderate drinking. His wife advised him to moderate his passion. He asked for five jugs as the price of this sacrifice, and when he had drunk them he went to sleep. On waking, he asked for five more jugs of wine, and having emptied these, he wrote the following quatrain for his wife:—
“Heaven has created Liou-Ling,Who cannot live without wine;And as to the advice given him by his wife,He should pay no attention to it.”
“Heaven has created Liou-Ling,Who cannot live without wine;And as to the advice given him by his wife,He should pay no attention to it.”
“Heaven has created Liou-Ling,Who cannot live without wine;And as to the advice given him by his wife,He should pay no attention to it.”
“Heaven has created Liou-Ling,
Who cannot live without wine;
And as to the advice given him by his wife,
He should pay no attention to it.”
Grape-wine is unknown in China, and the only allusion to it that I know of is to be found in the following lines, which werewritten by a warrior who lived in the north of China, under the reign of the Yang family:—
“Grape-wine gleams in the glasses at night—I should like to drink but the guitar urges me to go.Do not laugh at me if I fall asleep on the field of battle,For since ancient times how many warriors have returned from war?”
“Grape-wine gleams in the glasses at night—I should like to drink but the guitar urges me to go.Do not laugh at me if I fall asleep on the field of battle,For since ancient times how many warriors have returned from war?”
“Grape-wine gleams in the glasses at night—I should like to drink but the guitar urges me to go.Do not laugh at me if I fall asleep on the field of battle,For since ancient times how many warriors have returned from war?”
“Grape-wine gleams in the glasses at night—
I should like to drink but the guitar urges me to go.
Do not laugh at me if I fall asleep on the field of battle,
For since ancient times how many warriors have returned from war?”
Li-Tai-Pe made an abusive use of wine. He found friends everywhere, even when he was alone, for then the moon and his shadow were his friends. But in spite of that, he knew how to associate with the pleasure of drinking the most delicate sentiments and very lofty philosophical views, as may be seen in the following poem:—
“What has become of the towers and the flags of King of Tsou which formerly were accumulated on the tops of hills now deserted?When drunkenness elevates me, I lower my paint brush, and my songs shake the five mountains.I am glad, and am proud, and I laugh at all greatness.Power, wealth, honours, before your duration shall be sufficient to merit my esteem.The Yellow River will be seen starting from the west to flow towards the north.”
“What has become of the towers and the flags of King of Tsou which formerly were accumulated on the tops of hills now deserted?When drunkenness elevates me, I lower my paint brush, and my songs shake the five mountains.I am glad, and am proud, and I laugh at all greatness.Power, wealth, honours, before your duration shall be sufficient to merit my esteem.The Yellow River will be seen starting from the west to flow towards the north.”
“What has become of the towers and the flags of King of Tsou which formerly were accumulated on the tops of hills now deserted?When drunkenness elevates me, I lower my paint brush, and my songs shake the five mountains.I am glad, and am proud, and I laugh at all greatness.Power, wealth, honours, before your duration shall be sufficient to merit my esteem.The Yellow River will be seen starting from the west to flow towards the north.”
“What has become of the towers and the flags of King of Tsou which formerly were accumulated on the tops of hills now deserted?
When drunkenness elevates me, I lower my paint brush, and my songs shake the five mountains.
I am glad, and am proud, and I laugh at all greatness.
Power, wealth, honours, before your duration shall be sufficient to merit my esteem.
The Yellow River will be seen starting from the west to flow towards the north.”
Since that time a kind of drinking game has been invented. A tube, in the shape of a cylinder, is placed on the table. It contains a number of ivory rods, each of which is inscribed with an ancient verse. Each player draws one of these rods, and according to the verses on them, it is decided which player is to drink. Here are some examples:—
“Alas! Where is the handsome face to-day?(The most bearded player has to drink.)In love with a shadow or a sound.(It is the shortsighted man’s turn to empty his glass.)We see each other without hearing our voices.(The deaf man drinks.)There is still half the time left for contemplation.(The player who wears spectacles drinks.)The beaded blinds hide the faces of the roses.(The pock-marked player drinks.)He who is in love with the flowers regrets that they have no voices.(The silent man drinks.)The cries of modern ghosts mingle with the cries of ancient spectres,(The doctor drinks.)”
“Alas! Where is the handsome face to-day?(The most bearded player has to drink.)In love with a shadow or a sound.(It is the shortsighted man’s turn to empty his glass.)We see each other without hearing our voices.(The deaf man drinks.)There is still half the time left for contemplation.(The player who wears spectacles drinks.)The beaded blinds hide the faces of the roses.(The pock-marked player drinks.)He who is in love with the flowers regrets that they have no voices.(The silent man drinks.)The cries of modern ghosts mingle with the cries of ancient spectres,(The doctor drinks.)”
“Alas! Where is the handsome face to-day?(The most bearded player has to drink.)In love with a shadow or a sound.(It is the shortsighted man’s turn to empty his glass.)We see each other without hearing our voices.(The deaf man drinks.)There is still half the time left for contemplation.(The player who wears spectacles drinks.)The beaded blinds hide the faces of the roses.(The pock-marked player drinks.)He who is in love with the flowers regrets that they have no voices.(The silent man drinks.)The cries of modern ghosts mingle with the cries of ancient spectres,(The doctor drinks.)”
“Alas! Where is the handsome face to-day?
(The most bearded player has to drink.)
In love with a shadow or a sound.
(It is the shortsighted man’s turn to empty his glass.)
We see each other without hearing our voices.
(The deaf man drinks.)
There is still half the time left for contemplation.
(The player who wears spectacles drinks.)
The beaded blinds hide the faces of the roses.
(The pock-marked player drinks.)
He who is in love with the flowers regrets that they have no voices.
(The silent man drinks.)
The cries of modern ghosts mingle with the cries of ancient spectres,
(The doctor drinks.)”
It will be seen that in China the pleasure of drinking does not lack in those gaieties with which wine is always accompanied.
That tea is our favourite drink is very generally known, but people may perhaps ignore the considerable part that it plays in our lives. I will not speak here either about its cultivation or the process of its manufacture, which are pretty well known. I will limit myself to telling the use that is made of this precious aromatic plant. Since tea has been known in China, a part of the first pickings of the harvest is sent each year to the Emperor by the authorities in the producing districts. This is called “The Tea Tribute.” Formerly, the Court used to distribute tea to the officials, and the usual presents consistedof tea. Another thing shows the importance that we attach to this article, and that is, that we have tea-inspectors, just as we have salt-superintendents, who are high functionaries specially commissioned for the purpose. Instead of cafés, as in Paris, we have nothing but tea-houses in China, and these may be seen everywhere. It is at these tea-houses that people meet to talk, to rest, and to enjoy the cool air. When you call on a friend the first thing that he does is to offer you a cup of tea. When you write an invitation to a friend to come and spend some time at your house, the formula you use is, “The tea is ready.”
Whilst you are waiting in a shop for your orders to be executed, the shopman hands you a cup of tea to help you to be patient. In the very hot weather, charitable people in towns always put outside their doors great urns of tea for thirsty passers-by to drink from, and these urns are refilled as soon as they have beenemptied. Those are our public fountains. There is always tea ready in the workrooms and other places where workpeople meet. Tea is the only drink used by the people. Amongst the highest in the land there are also numerous tea drinkers. It is thought that this beverage has the gift of rendering one’s mind more lucid. It is always green tea that is drunk in the upper classes—the little leaves taken from the bud at its first opening and dried in the sun. This is our Château-Lafitte. As to black tea, if is made of leaves which have reached maturity and have been dried artificially. This is all the difference that there is between the two kinds. No artificial colouring of the leaves is ever resorted to. Qualities vary, of course, according to the localities in which the tea is grown, just as is the case with wine. The best tea is that grown on a tree which grows in the garden of a monastery which is situated on the Ou-I mountain, in the interior of the province of Fou-Kien. The priests do not sellit, but keep it for the use of distinguished visitors. They give you about ten leaves in a cup not much bigger than an egg-cup, and pour on it water taken from an excellent spring which is situated near the monastery. The cup is covered for a few moments to allow the tea to draw. The scent that rises from the cup when the tea is ready is most exquisite, and a cup of this tea not only produces a feeling of great bodily comfort, but also has a most exhilarating effect on the mind.
I once amused myself by placing a few grains of boiled rice in a cup of that tea. The rice was almost immediately dissolved. This made me understand how energetic is the effect of this beverage, its beneficial action on the human body, and the impossibility of drinking much of it. Tea is so essential a factor in Chinese alimentation that authors like Lu-U have published whole books on the way of preparing this drink. These books are our Mrs. Beeton’s. Tea, as a matter of fact, to be good, mustbe made with rain or spring water heated to a certain degree of heat. The water should not be allowed to boil more than a few minutes, and, when bubbles begin to rise, it should be taken off the fire. The utensil in which the water is boiled should be made of certain materials and no others. True connoisseurs only use pots made of Ni-Hing, a kind of terra-cotta ware which is not varnished inside. Thus prepared, the tea is an economical and healthy beverage. It is drunk continually and at all hours of the day, even just before going to bed. Its effect is never an exciting one. Apropos of this, one of my compatriots has said that the Europeans, and specially the English, do not know how to make tea. In the first place, they let it boil. Secondly, they add strong spirits, which destroy its taste; or sugar, which makes it lose its savour. Tea should be allowed to infuse for five minutes at the most, and should be of a clear colour, barely yellow in hue. The U-Tchien, or Jade-Spring monastery, issituated in the province of King-Tiou, in the midst of rocks and waterfalls, and is surrounded with tea plantations, which produce tea-leaves of the size of a man’s hand, which are called “The Tea of the Hand of the Immortals.” An octogenarian who lived in that neighbourhood had the face of quite a young man, and enjoyed the very best health, and used to tell anybody who would listen to him that he owed his good health and his youthful appearance to the use of this tea. It is not surprising that so beneficial a drink should have inspired the poets. There is an innumerable quantity of single lines about tea in our literature. Here are a few specimens of these proverbial sayings which refer to tea:—
“To make your friends pass a pleasant evening the poor man offers them tea.To make tea with snow is to taste celestial savours.When you make tea in the forest, the smoke drives the storks away.”
“To make your friends pass a pleasant evening the poor man offers them tea.
To make tea with snow is to taste celestial savours.
When you make tea in the forest, the smoke drives the storks away.”
The harvest time varies according to thedistrict. In some parts the harvest is picked before the rainy season. In others, it is begun at the sound of the first clap of thunder; in other parts, the first cry of the cuckoo is the signal for the pickers to begin their work. All sorts of stories are told about our tea, amongst others, that the tea we export has already been used and dried again. That is a mere fable. The tea we export is of average quality, and is so abundantly to be had that there is no necessity for us to take recourse to the disgusting expedients suggested. I may add that the export trade is almost entirely in the hands of European business houses. Besides, all our old tea-leaves are used in China as sea-weed is used in France for stuffing mattresses, cushions, and so on. Thus tea, after having fortified our bodies during the day, affords us a bed at night.
Although our chopsticks may have some resemblance to magic wands, the purpose they fulfil is a much more prosaic one, and, at the same time, a much more useful one. They are the auxiliaries which help us to convey to our mouths the food which we need for our bodies, the coal required by the human machine. It is generally thought in Europe that we use two chopsticks—one in each hand—for taking up the morsels of food, and for conveying these to our mouths. That is a mistake: our knife and fork exercise is much less complicated. The chopsticks are held in the right hand.Maintained by the thumb and the ring-finger, they are worked by the index and the middle finger. One remains motionless, the other manœuvres and catches up the fragments of meat, and even the smallest particles of rice. When rice is eaten, the bowl containing it is brought very close to the mouth. The chopsticks work with feverish activity, for rice is our daily bread, and we can admit of no slip between the cup that contains it and our lips. It may be thought that the use of the chopsticks demands very great skill, but that is only the prejudice of those accustomed to the use of the fork. A child can learn how to use the chopsticks as easily as the utensils in use in Europe. It may be mentioned that we also make use of forks for roast meats, and of spoons for taking up liquids. The Book of Rites, which deals with all the acts of life, mentions that chopsticks are to be used for all purposes except for drinking soup. The use of the spoon was thus consecrated many centuries ago. Thechopsticks are not plain, shapeless pieces of wood. They are made of bamboo, or of more precious woods, and also of ivory and silver. The top part, which is from eight to ten inches long, by from four to six broad, is square, the remaining part being round. On one of the sides of the square top part, poems and pictures are engraved. Under the reign of the Han family, the Emperor was dining one day at a political banquet with his ministers, when one of them—Tcheng-Liang by name—rose to his feet and said: “Your majesty’s cause is lost. I have just consulted my chopsticks.” And as it turned out, the Emperor’s plan of conquest failed. Even to-day the cleverness of this statesman, who knew how to disguise his own opinion in the form of a revelation by his chopsticks, and to pass off his own advice as the result of a Divine inspiration, is much admired.
Some centuries later, the famous dictator, Tchao-Tsao, was dining with a rival of his, who tried to hide his ambition under themost modest appearance. Tchao-Tsao was anxious to publicly expose the designs of his rival, whom he had seen through, and began to talk of the bravest men of the day. Each mentioned certain names, and finally Tchao-Tsao said, “We two alone are really courageous men.” Hearing himself thus directly named, Liou-Pei, as the rival was called, dropped his chopsticks just as a clap of thunder was heard rolling through the sky. He tried to hide his emotion, and said, “Ah! how great is the power of heaven, I really was frightened.” But he was unable to divert the suspicion to which his terror had given rise.
Under the reign of the Thangs, Kai-Yang presented a pair of gold chopsticks to his Minister of State, Soung-King, saying that he made him this present, not on account of the intrinsic value of the gold, but because the chopsticks were symbolical by their shape of the straightforwardness of his character.
It is recorded of a gourmet, named Ho-Tseng, who used to spend a large sum ofmoney on his food, without ever being able to satisfy his tastes, that he fed like a prince, and though he spent upwards of a thousand crowns on his table, did not consider a single dish worthy of his chopsticks.
The number of historical anecdotes told about chopsticks is far too large to be given here. Let me, however, quote one of these anecdotes;
“A sea-shell which had the elongated form of a stick, and which is known as the solen or razor, is greatly appreciated in China. It bears a mark on its side. It is said that an Emperor having taken a solen up in his chopsticks, cast it into the lake. The mollusc multiplied, but each of its descendants preserve the traces of the chopsticks of Emperor Han-Ou-Ti.”
“A sea-shell which had the elongated form of a stick, and which is known as the solen or razor, is greatly appreciated in China. It bears a mark on its side. It is said that an Emperor having taken a solen up in his chopsticks, cast it into the lake. The mollusc multiplied, but each of its descendants preserve the traces of the chopsticks of Emperor Han-Ou-Ti.”
Let me conclude with four lines of poetry about the chopsticks, which were written by one of our philosophers:
“I often wish to consult my chopsticks,Which always taste what is bitter and what is sweet before we do.But they answer that all good savour comes from the dishes themselves,And that all that they do is to come and to go.”
“I often wish to consult my chopsticks,Which always taste what is bitter and what is sweet before we do.But they answer that all good savour comes from the dishes themselves,And that all that they do is to come and to go.”
“I often wish to consult my chopsticks,Which always taste what is bitter and what is sweet before we do.But they answer that all good savour comes from the dishes themselves,And that all that they do is to come and to go.”
“I often wish to consult my chopsticks,
Which always taste what is bitter and what is sweet before we do.
But they answer that all good savour comes from the dishes themselves,
And that all that they do is to come and to go.”
So many dreadful things have been said about Chinese cooking, that I think it indispensable to devote a chapter to the rehabilitation of our culinary art. I do not pretend to make your mouths water, but I should like at least to be able to show you that my countrymen do not eat the extraordinary things attributed to them by certain prejudiced travellers. Our ordinary meal consists of eight dishes—two vegetables, eggs, a fish, some shell-fish, a bird, two dishes of meat, pork and goat in the south, and mutton and beef in the north. Besides this, a large tureen of soup is served with the rice, which takes the place of breadat our tables, and is our substitute for wine and tea, which are only served on very great occasions at meal times. Food being extremely cheap, the cost of three daily meals, similar to the one described, never exceeds fivepence per person. A pound of meat costs only twopence halfpenny, or threepence, whilst the price of a good fowl is sixpence, or, at the most, sevenpence.
In 1882, I embarked on board a Chinese ship at Hong-Kong, on my way home. Not being able to accommodate myself with the fare on board, I told a servant that I should like a chicken for lunch, and gave him a dollar to buy it with, this sum representing the usual cost of a chicken in France. A minute or two later he came to ask me how he was to prepare it. “Cut it up and stew it in its juice,” I said, “and season well.” Shortly afterwards he brought me a huge trencher, resembling a tub, filled with a fricassee of little pieces of smoking chicken.
“What! All that?” I cried.
“Yes, sir. With your dollar I got twelvechickens, and have cooked them as you told me to do.”
At the sight of this quantity of meat, and of the pantagruelic dish in which they were served, my appetite disappeared, and I made him carry the dish away, and distribute it among the servants in the kitchen. I mention this to show how little provisions cost at home. A workman earning one franc, or tenpence a day can keep a wife and two children in comfort, and still put by half his earnings.
When I was at the military school, where the cadets mess like officers, all I had to pay for my food was fourpence a day, and was so well fed for this money that I never had any cause for complaint. It is easy to understand the reason why things are so cheap in China. There are no taxes at home on articles of food. According to statistics, each inhabitant of the Empire pays two francs, or eighteenpence, in taxes per annum, but no part of this sum represents any tax on food. Europeans whocomplain that they spend far too much money in China have only themselves to blame. I have never heard of any European who cared to live as we live. Parisian dishes, already very expensive in this country, are naturally trebly so in China, in spite of the fact that raw materials cost so little. Besides, the cuisine of each country depends on its climate. Since I have been in France I have accustomed myself to French cookery, reputed the best of all. Whenever I return to China, and am invited to dinner by French people, I get quite upset, and often feel quite ill after dinner. Coffee irritates my stomach, and cigars make my nose bleed. Now, when I am in Europe I cannot do without my coffee and my cigar after dinner. It is not surprising, then, that Europeans cannot enjoy life in China, persisting as they do in eating only what suited them at home. When a friend calls on you in China to take pot-luck with you, you usually ask him to a restaurant, and order a dinner in his honour. These dinners usuallycost six dollars, that is to say, twenty-four shillings for eight persons. The dinner is a very complete meal, as may be judged by the following bill of fare:—
Four plates ofhors d’œuvres.Four plates of dried fruits.Four plates of fresh fruit, according to the season.Four large dishes—a whole duck, sharks’ fins, swallows’ nests, and some kind of meat.Four middle-sized dishes—poultry, shell-fish, and meat.Four small dishes or bowls, containing mushrooms, morels, which we call ears of the forest, rice of the immortals, which is the name we give to a kind of mushroom, and the tender sprouts of the bamboo.Four large dishes, containing fish, sea-stars, and mutton.
Four plates ofhors d’œuvres.
Four plates of dried fruits.
Four plates of fresh fruit, according to the season.
Four large dishes—a whole duck, sharks’ fins, swallows’ nests, and some kind of meat.
Four middle-sized dishes—poultry, shell-fish, and meat.
Four small dishes or bowls, containing mushrooms, morels, which we call ears of the forest, rice of the immortals, which is the name we give to a kind of mushroom, and the tender sprouts of the bamboo.
Four large dishes, containing fish, sea-stars, and mutton.
These last four dishes finish the repast. As a rule, nobody touches them, and their appearance on the table is the signal for rising. The price of ceremonial dinners rarely exceeds twenty dollars, or four pounds, for eight persons. The list of dishes is a much larger one, and includestwo roasts, which are served at the middle of the dinner, together with little pieces of bread cooked in thebain-marie.
A servant, armed with a very sharp carving-knife, removes the skin of the roast, be it wild duck, goose, or sucking pig, and serves each guest with a little in a saucer. At the same time, another servant hands each guest a small cup, into which he pours rice brandy. I forgot to say that the table is cleared before the roasts are served, just as in Paris before coffee is brought on to table. Pastry is always served at our dinners, and is brought on between the courses. With salt pastry, containing meat, a cup of chicken broth is served, whilst with sweet pastry almond milk is handed round. I must add that dinner always begins withhors d’œuvresincluding fruit, and ends with a bowl of rice, which may be eaten or not, according to the tastes of the guests. Tea is served immediately after dinner, and at the same time each guest receives a napkin dipped in hot water.
The diners sit at a square table, two oneach side. The first and third face the second and fourth, the sixth and the fifth face the courtyard, to which the seventh and eighth turn their backs. The eighth is always the master of the house, whose special function it is to fill the glasses of his guests with wine. When there are more than eight, several tables are used. If four tables are needed, the third and fourth are near the courtyard, whilst the first and second are near the drawing-room.Hors d’œuvresinclude, besides fruit, ham, gizzards, grated meat grilled, dried shrimps, and preserved eggs. The latter, thanks to their coating of lime, will keep for an indefinite period; after twenty-five years they are exquisite to the taste, having undergone a kind of transformation, the result of which is that the yellows have become a kind of dark brown in colour, and the whites, also brown, resemble meat jelly. I once made some European friends of mine taste some of these eggs, as well as other Chinese dishes, and they were delighted with them, all prejudice apart.
Once, however, a Berlin lady, after having found that our cooking was delicious, asked the name of each of the dishes of one of our interpreters, who, not knowing the exact translation of the technical expression, “sea-slug,” answered that the dish in question was “sea hedgehog,” or See-Igel in German. This was enough to disgust our amiable guest, who refused to continue her dinner. I was sitting next to her, and she told me that she could feel it crawling in her throat still, which shows how great is the force of imagination. Marquis d’Hervey de Saint-Denys gave a Chinese dinner during the Exhibition of 1867, and Cham, the famous caricaturist, drew the menu. There were some abominable things in this bill of fare, and the faces of the guests after they had glanced at it was a sight to be seen. It took the marquis all his eloquence to reassure them. I will not deny that there are people in China who eat these extraordinary dishes, but these are the exceptions to the rule. I repeat here, that never in my life have I seenor heard of any one who ate cat or dog, a practice which only quite recently a writer in theFigaroaccused us of. Apropos of this, I must relate a very curious thing that befell us, when, in the spring of 1878, our Legation first settled in Paris. One day I received a call from a footman in livery, who desired to speak to me in the name of his mistress, a Polish countess of very high position. This lady had amongst her pets twelve little Chinese dogs, those hairless little bow-wows that everybody has seen. She loved them dearly, and, being frightened lest the Chinese colony might eat up her darlings, sent me word, considering us apparently as wild beasts or savages, to the effect that if one of her pets should disappear she would set fire to the Embassy building. I reassured the good old lady, and sent her word that none of my countrymen had an appetite for dog-meat, and that should she miss one of her pets one day it would be much wiser on her part, before committing the crime of arson with premeditation, to goround to the police-station or to the dogs’ home.
In short, we eat very much as you do, with rather more variety, thanks to the productiveness of our country and of our sea. But never are disgusting or even curious dishes seen on our tables. It is true that we prepare our dishes in a different manner. For instance, we cut the food up into very little pieces, in consequence of which the nature of the dish is not to be recognised, but our dishes are none the less delicious on that account. I could call in witness of what I assert all Europeans who have lived in China.
Cooking, moreover, is in exact ratio to the state of civilisation of each nation—the more developed the one, the morerecherchéand the more perfect the other. France is the country in Europe which was civilised the first, and its cuisine is the most perfect in the West. So, instead of asking us whether we are in the habit of preparing such and such a fantastic dish, the European would do better to ask from what year our civilisation dates. Theanswer to this question would at once show him that it is absurd to attribute to us the consumption of disgusting dishes, and that this is the work of mere imagination, vivid perhaps, but completely in the wrong.
There are no theatres in China, like the Egyptian Hall in London, that is to say, conjuring theatres. The conjurer has to perform in public, in the squares, and places like his European brethren at the different fairs. Conjurers are often hired to perform at family parties, and never fail to win great applause. The Chinese conjurer is, at the same time, an acrobat, and knows both his trades very well indeed. The proverbial skill of our artists is really astonishing. The performance is generally opened with acrobaticfeats, and after having swallowed swords, juggled with weights, and gone through exercises of this description, the acrobat transforms himself into a magician. He throws off his gown, and as it falls to the earth, asks the spectators what object they would like to see. Something very difficult to produce is naturally chosen, and the sorcerer begins to make strange gestures with his fingers. He then approaches the gown, mutters some mysterious word of command to it, mesmerises it with strange mesmeric passes, and suddenly the gown is seen to rise from the earth, and rises and rises until the master, drawing back this moving curtain, discloses beneath it smoking dishes, or a large bowl filled with water, in which quantities of gold and silver fish are disporting themselves. This is one of the tricks that I have seen performed, and have never been able to understand how it was done. But one of my friends told me of something that he had seen which was much more astonishing. One day, inthe course of one of these performances, the conjurer asked his audience to name what they desired to see. One of the spectators asked for a pumpkin. The conjurer, at first, pretended that that was out of the question, as it was not in season. But, the public insisting, he gave way. He then took a pumpkin seed and planted it in the earth, and made his son—a lad of four or five years—lie down, and thrust his knife into his throat, as if he had been slaughtering an animal. The blood poured out into a pot, and when it had been collected the conjurer watered with it the spot where he had just planted the seed. He then covered the corpse up with a cloth, and placed a wooden bell over the seed. A few moments later a sprout was seen rising from the soil, which grew and grew and burst into flower. The flower fell, and the pumpkin showed itself, growing with extraordinary rapidity. When it was ripe, the magician picked it off its stalk, showed it to the public, and began making his collection.He then lifted up the cloth from his son, and instead of disclosing a corpse, brought to light a very healthy youth, who did not bear the vestige of a wound. All this was done with surprising neatness.
Another of my friends told me, on his return from Pekin, that he had seen still more extraordinary things. One day, after the literary examinations, the candidates clubbed together and sent for a troupe of conjurers. The chief, having shown certain tricks, asked if the audience would like to see some rare thing that they might choose. “A peach,” cried one of the spectators. It was then the month of March, when the land is still ice-bound, especially in the north of China. “A peach!” said the conjurer; “that is the only fruit that it is impossible for me to procure. At this time of the year, peaches can only be found in Paradise.”
“But as you are a magician,” was the answer, “you ought to be able to bring one down from heaven.”
After grumbling a good deal, the conjurersaid he would try what he could do for them, and began weaving a roll of ribbon, which he cast into the air, and which took the shape of a ladder, which went up and up to a tremendous height. He then placed a child on this ladder, who ran up the rungs with the agility of a monkey, and was soon lost to sight in the clouds. Some moments passed, when suddenly a peach fell from the skies. The magician picked it up, cut it into slices, and offered it to the audience. It was a real peach. Hardly had the peach been eaten, when something else fell from the skies. Horror! It was the head of the child, which was speedily followed by the trunk and the limbs. The sorcerer picked them up with tears in his eyes, and said that the audience was to blame for the loss of his child by its absurd request, and that the guardians of Paradise had taken his child for a thief, and had cut him into pieces. The spectators, touched at the sight of his sorrow, and believing that they were really to blame for a murder, and wanting to do allin their power to comfort the unhappy father, made a collection, and presented him with a handsome sum of money. Meanwhile, the magician had placed the fragments of his son’s corpse in a box, which he always carried round with him. As soon as he had received the amount of the subscription, he opened the box and cried out—
“Come forth, my child, and thank these kind gentlemen.” And out sprang the youth, alive and well.
In concluding this chapter, I must tell a story about a ventriloquist. It was at a dinner given by a gentleman, who, as a rule, was very unhappy in life, and bored himself dreadfully when alone. He used to say that when he had no friends to talk to, the softest carpets appeared to him like bundles of needles, and the most beautifully decorated walls like bucklers. He used to write poems to kill time. When people knocked at his door he used to ask them to stay to dinner, whether he knew their names or not. That day not one of the guests who sat at thetable knew any of the others. The conversation turned on the question, which sound was the most agreeable. One of the spectators said, “It is the sound of the shuttle as it flies across the loom, or the voice of a reading child.”
“No, no; that is too serious,” said the host.
“Then it is the neighing of horses, or the concert of lady musicians.”
“No; that is too noisy,” said the host.
“The rattle of the pawns at chess played by women.”
“Nor that. That is too monotonous.”
The fourth guest said nothing, but continued quietly emptying his glass.
“What is your opinion?” asked the others.
“I have no opinion to give,” said he; “but I should like to tell you about the sounds I heard in Pekin. They seem to me to be much superior to any others. They were the different noises emitted by a ventriloquist. He was seated behind a screen, where there was only a chair, a table,and a fan, and a ruler. He rapped the ruler on the table to enforce silence, and, when everybody had ceased speaking, there was suddenly heard the barking of a dog; then the movements of a woman, waked by the noisy brute, who shook her husband to say tender things to him. We were just expecting to hear a duet of love between the two spouses when the noise of a crying child was heard. Then we heard the mother giving the breast to the baby, and the sound of it drinking and crying at the same time. The mother tried to console it, and then rose to change its clothes. Meanwhile, another child, waking in its bed, began to make a noise; its father scolded it, whilst the younger child continued crying at its mother’s breast. Then the whole family go back to bed and fall asleep. The patter of a mouse is heard. It climbs up some vase and upsets it, and we hear the clatter as it falls. The woman coughs in her sleep. Cries of ‘Fire, fire,’ are heard. The mouse has upset the lamp, and set fire to thebed-curtains. The husband and the wife, wakened, begin to shout and scream, the children cry, thousands of people come running up, and vociferate; thousands of children cry, dogs bark, the walls come crashing down, squibs and crackers explode—it seems a generalsauve-qui-peut. The fire-brigade comes racing up; water is pumped up in torrents, and hisses in the flames. It was all so true to life that all present were about to rise to their feet and run away, thinking that fire really had broken out, when a second blow of the ruler was struck on the table, and the most complete silence ensued. We rushed behind the screen, but there was nothing except the ventriloquist, his table, his chair, and his ruler.”