Lafcadio Hearn - Some Chinese Ghosts
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Lafcadio Hearn >> Some Chinese Ghosts
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SOME CHINESE GHOSTS
BY LAFCADIO HEARN
_Copyright_, 1887, by ROBERTS BROTHERS
* * * * *
_To my friend_ HENRY EDWARD KREHBIEL
_THE MUSICIAN_
WHO, SPEAKING THE SPEECH OF MELODY UNTO THE
CHILDREN OF TIEN-HIA,--
UNTO THE WANDERING TSING-JIN, WHOSE SKINS
HAVE THE COLOR OF GOLD,--
MOVED THEM TO MAKE STRANGE SOUNDS UPON THE
SERPENT-BELLIED SAN-HIEN;
PERSUADED THEM TO PLAY FOR ME UPON THE
SHRIEKING YA-HIEN;
PREVAILED ON THEM TO SING ME A SONG OF THEIR
NATIVE LAND,--
THE SONG OF MOHLI-HWA,
THE SONG OF THE JASMINE-FLOWER
[Illustration: Line drawing of a man's head]
* * * * *
_PREFACE_
I think that my best apology for the insignificant size of this volume
is the very character of the material composing it. In preparing the
legends I sought especially for _weird beauty_; and I could not forget
this striking observation in Sir Walter Scott's "Essay on Imitations of
the Ancient Ballad": "The supernatural, though appealing to certain
powerful emotions very widely and deeply sown amongst the human race,
is, nevertheless, a _spring which is peculiarly apt to lose its
elasticity by being too much pressed upon_."
Those desirous to familiarize themselves with Chinese literature as a
whole have had the way made smooth for them by the labors of linguists
like Julien, Pavie, Remusat, De Rosny, Schlegel, Legge,
Hervey-Saint-Denys, Williams, Biot, Giles, Wylie, Beal, and many other
Sinologists. To such great explorers, indeed, the realm of Cathayan
story belongs by right of discovery and conquest; yet the humbler
traveller who follows wonderingly after them into the vast and
mysterious pleasure-grounds of Chinese fancy may surely be permitted to
cull a few of the marvellous flowers there growing,--a self-luminous
_hwa-wang_, a black lily, a phosphoric rose or two,--as souvenirs of his
curious voyage.
L.H.
NEW ORLEANS, March 15, 1886.
_CONTENTS_
THE SOUL OF THE GREAT BELL
THE STORY OF MING-Y
THE LEGEND OF TCHI-NIU
THE RETURN OF YEN-TCHIN-KING
THE TRADITION OF THE TEA-PLANT
THE TALE OF THE PORCELAIN-GOD
* * * * *
NOTES
GLOSSARY
[Illustration: Decorative motif]
[Illustration: Line drawing of a head]
The Soul of the Great Bell
_She hath spoken, and her words still resound in his ears._
HAO-KHIEOU-TCHOUAN: c. ix.
THE SOUL OF THE GREAT BELL
The water-clock marks the hour in the _Ta-chung sz'_,--in the Tower of
the Great Bell: now the mallet is lifted to smite the lips of the
metal monster,--the vast lips inscribed with Buddhist texts from the
sacred _Fa-hwa-King_, from the chapters of the holy _Ling-yen-King_!
Hear the great bell responding!--how mighty her voice, though
tongueless!--_KO-NGAI!_ All the little dragons on the high-tilted
eaves of the green roofs shiver to the tips of their gilded tails
under that deep wave of sound; all the porcelain gargoyles tremble on
their carven perches; all the hundred little bells of the pagodas
quiver with desire to speak. _KO-NGAI!_--all the green-and-gold tiles
of the temple are vibrating; the wooden goldfish above them are
writhing against the sky; the uplifted finger of Fo shakes high over
the heads of the worshippers through the blue fog of incense!
_KO-NGAI!_--What a thunder tone was that! All the lacquered goblins on
the palace cornices wriggle their fire-colored tongues! And after each
huge shock, how wondrous the multiple echo and the great golden moan
and, at last, the sudden sibilant sobbing in the ears when the immense
tone faints away in broken whispers of silver,--as though a woman
should whisper, "_Hiai!_" Even so the great bell hath sounded every
day for well-nigh five hundred years,--_Ko-Ngai_: first with
stupendous clang, then with immeasurable moan of gold, then with
silver murmuring of "_Hiai!_" And there is not a child in all the
many-colored ways of the old Chinese city who does not know the story
of the great bell,--who cannot tell you why the great bell says
_Ko-Ngai_ and _Hiai_!
* * * * *
Now, this is the story of the great bell in the Ta-chung sz', as the
same is related in the _Pe-Hiao-Tou-Choue_, written by the learned
Yu-Pao-Tchen, of the City of Kwang-tchau-fu.
Nearly five hundred years ago the Celestially August, the Son of Heaven,
Yong-Lo, of the "Illustrious," or Ming, dynasty, commanded the worthy
official Kouan-Yu that he should have a bell made of such size that the
sound thereof might be heard for one hundred _li_. And he further
ordained that the voice of the bell should be strengthened with brass,
and deepened with gold, and sweetened with silver; and that the face and
the great lips of it should be graven with blessed sayings from the
sacred books, and that it should be suspended in the centre of the
imperial capital, to sound through all the many-colored ways of the City
of Pe-king.
Therefore the worthy mandarin Kouan-Yu assembled the master-moulders and
the renowned bellsmiths of the empire, and all men of great repute and
cunning in foundry work; and they measured the materials for the alloy,
and treated them skilfully, and prepared the moulds, the fires, the
instruments, and the monstrous melting-pot for fusing the metal. And
they labored exceedingly, like giants,--neglecting only rest and sleep
and the comforts of life; toiling both night and day in obedience to
Kouan-Yu, and striving in all things to do the behest of the Son of
Heaven.
But when the metal had been cast, and the earthen mould separated from
the glowing casting, it was discovered that, despite their great labor
and ceaseless care, the result was void of worth; for the metals had
rebelled one against the other,--the gold had scorned alliance with the
brass, the silver would not mingle with the molten iron. Therefore the
moulds had to be once more prepared, and the fires rekindled, and the
metal remelted, and all the work tediously and toilsomely repeated. The
Son of Heaven heard, and was angry, but spake nothing.
A second time the bell was cast, and the result was even worse. Still
the metals obstinately refused to blend one with the other; and there
was no uniformity in the bell, and the sides of it were cracked and
fissured, and the lips of it were slagged and split asunder; so that all
the labor had to be repeated even a third time, to the great dismay of
Kouan-Yu. And when the Son of Heaven heard these things, he was angrier
than before; and sent his messenger to Kouan-Yu with a letter, written
upon lemon-colored silk, and sealed with the seal of the Dragon,
containing these words:--
"_From the Mighty Yong-Lo, the Sublime Tait-Sung, the Celestial and
August,--whose reign is called 'Ming,'--to Kouan-Yu the Fuh-yin: Twice
thou hast betrayed the trust we have deigned graciously to place in
thee; if thou fail a third time in fulfilling our command, thy head
shall be severed from thy neck. Tremble, and obey!_"
* * * * *
Now, Kouan-Yu had a daughter of dazzling loveliness, whose
name--Ko-Ngai--was ever in the mouths of poets, and whose heart was even
more beautiful than her face. Ko-Ngai loved her father with such love
that she had refused a hundred worthy suitors rather than make his home
desolate by her absence; and when she had seen the awful yellow missive,
sealed with the Dragon-Seal, she fainted away with fear for her father's
sake. And when her senses and her strength returned to her, she could
not rest or sleep for thinking of her parent's danger, until she had
secretly sold some of her jewels, and with the money so obtained had
hastened to an astrologer, and paid him a great price to advise her by
what means her father might be saved from the peril impending over him.
So the astrologer made observations of the heavens, and marked the
aspect of the Silver Stream (which we call the Milky Way), and examined
the signs of the Zodiac,--the _Hwang-tao_, or Yellow Road,--and
consulted the table of the Five _Hin_, or Principles of the Universe,
and the mystical books of the alchemists. And after a long silence, he
made answer to her, saying: "Gold and brass will never meet in wedlock,
silver and iron never will embrace, until the flesh of a maiden be
melted in the crucible; until the blood of a virgin be mixed with the
metals in their fusion." So Ko-Ngai returned home sorrowful at heart;
but she kept secret all that she had heard, and told no one what she had
done.
* * * * *
At last came the awful day when the third and last effort to cast the
great bell was to be made; and Ko-Ngai, together with her waiting-woman,
accompanied her father to the foundry, and they took their places upon a
platform overlooking the toiling of the moulders and the lava of
liquefied metal. All the workmen wrought their tasks in silence; there
was no sound heard but the muttering of the fires. And the muttering
deepened into a roar like the roar of typhoons approaching, and the
blood-red lake of metal slowly brightened like the vermilion of a
sunrise, and the vermilion was transmuted into a radiant glow of gold,
and the gold whitened blindingly, like the silver face of a full moon.
Then the workers ceased to feed the raving flame, and all fixed their
eyes upon the eyes of Kouan-Yu; and Kouan-Yu prepared to give the signal
to cast.
But ere ever he lifted his finger, a cry caused him to turn his head;
and all heard the voice of Ko-Ngai sounding sharply sweet as a bird's
song above the great thunder of the fires,--"_For thy sake, O my
Father!_" And even as she cried, she leaped into the white flood of
metal; and the lava of the furnace roared to receive her, and spattered
monstrous flakes of flame to the roof, and burst over the verge of the
earthen crater, and cast up a whirling fountain of many-colored fires,
and subsided quakingly, with lightnings and with thunders and with
mutterings.
Then the father of Ko-Ngai, wild with his grief, would have leaped in
after her, but that strong men held him back and kept firm grasp upon
him until he had fainted away and they could bear him like one dead to
his home. And the serving-woman of Ko-Ngai, dizzy and speechless for
pain, stood before the furnace, still holding in her hands a shoe, a
tiny, dainty shoe, with embroidery of pearls and flowers,--the shoe of
her beautiful mistress that was. For she had sought to grasp Ko-Ngai by
the foot as she leaped, but had only been able to clutch the shoe, and
the pretty shoe came off in her hand; and she continued to stare at it
like one gone mad.
But in spite of all these things, the command of the Celestial and
August had to be obeyed, and the work of the moulders to be finished,
hopeless as the result might be. Yet the glow of the metal seemed purer
and whiter than before; and there was no sign of the beautiful body that
had been entombed therein. So the ponderous casting was made; and lo!
when the metal had become cool, it was found that the bell was beautiful
to look upon, and perfect in form, and wonderful in color above all
other bells. Nor was there any trace found of the body of Ko-Ngai; for
it had been totally absorbed by the precious alloy, and blended with the
well-blended brass and gold, with the intermingling of the silver and
the iron. And when they sounded the bell, its tones were found to be
deeper and mellower and mightier than the tones of any other
bell,--reaching even beyond the distance of one hundred _li_, like a
pealing of summer thunder; and yet also like some vast voice uttering a
name, a woman's name,--the name of Ko-Ngai!
* * * * *
And still, between each mighty stroke there is a long low moaning heard;
and ever the moaning ends with a sound of sobbing and of complaining, as
though a weeping woman should murmur, "_Hiai!_" And still, when the
people hear that great golden moan they keep silence; but when the
sharp, sweet shuddering comes in the air, and the sobbing of "_Hiai!_"
then, indeed, all the Chinese mothers in all the many-colored ways of
Pe-king whisper to their little ones: "_Listen! that is Ko-Ngai crying
for her shoe! That is Ko-Ngai calling for her shoe!_"
[Illustration: Chinese calligraphy]
The Story of Ming-Y
THE ANCIENT WORDS OF KOUEI--MASTER OF MUSICIANS IN THE COURTS
OF THE EMPEROR YAO:--
_When ye make to resound the stone melodious, the Ming-Khieou,--
When ye touch the lyre that is called Kin, or the guitar that is
called Sse,--
Accompanying their sound with song,--
Then do the grandfather and the father return;
Then do the ghosts of the ancestors come to hear._
THE STORY OF MING-Y
_Sang the Poet Tching-Kou: "Surely the Peach-Flowers blossom over
the tomb of Sie-Thao."_
Do you ask me who she was,--the beautiful Sie-Thao? For a thousand years
and more the trees have been whispering above her bed of stone. And the
syllables of her name come to the listener with the lisping of the
leaves; with the quivering of many-fingered boughs; with the fluttering
of lights and shadows; with the breath, sweet as a woman's presence, of
numberless savage flowers,--_Sie-Thao_. But, saving the whispering of
her name, what the trees say cannot be understood; and they alone
remember the years of Sie-Thao. Something about her you might,
nevertheless, learn from any of those _Kiang-kou-jin_,--those famous
Chinese story-tellers, who nightly narrate to listening crowds, in
consideration of a few _tsien_, the legends of the past. Something
concerning her you may also find in the book entitled "Kin-Kou-Ki-Koan,"
which signifies in our tongue: "The Marvellous Happenings of Ancient and
of Recent Times." And perhaps of all things therein written, the most
marvellous is this memory of Sie-Thao:--
Five hundred years ago, in the reign of the Emperor Houng-Wou, whose
dynasty was _Ming_, there lived in the City of Genii, the city of
Kwang-tchau-fu, a man celebrated for his learning and for his piety,
named Tien-Pelou. This Tien-Pelou had one son, a beautiful boy, who for
scholarship and for bodily grace and for polite accomplishments had no
superior among the youths of his age. And his name was Ming-Y.
Now when the lad was in his eighteenth summer, it came to pass that
Pelou, his father, was appointed Inspector of Public Instruction at the
city of Tching-tou; and Ming-Y accompanied his parents thither. Near the
city of Tching-tou lived a rich man of rank, a high commissioner of the
government, whose name was Tchang, and who wanted to find a worthy
teacher for his children. On hearing of the arrival of the new Inspector
of Public Instruction, the noble Tchang visited him to obtain advice in
this matter; and happening to meet and converse with Pelou's
accomplished son, immediately engaged Ming-Y as a private tutor for his
family.
Now as the house of this Lord Tchang was situated several miles from
town, it was deemed best that Ming-Y should abide in the house of his
employer. Accordingly the youth made ready all things necessary for his
new sojourn; and his parents, bidding him farewell, counselled him
wisely, and cited to him the words of Lao-tseu and of the ancient sages:
"_By a beautiful face the world is filled with love; but Heaven may
never be deceived thereby. Shouldst thou behold a woman coming from the
East, look thou to the West; shouldst thou perceive a maiden approaching
from the West, turn thine eyes to the East._"
If Ming-Y did not heed this counsel in after days, it was only because
of his youth and the thoughtlessness of a naturally joyous heart.
And he departed to abide in the house of Lord Tchang, while the autumn
passed, and the winter also.
* * * * *
When the time of the second moon of spring was drawing near, and that
happy day which the Chinese call _Hoa-tchao_, or, "The Birthday of a
Hundred Flowers," a longing came upon Ming-Y to see his parents; and he
opened his heart to the good Tchang, who not only gave him the
permission he desired, but also pressed into his hand a silver gift of
two ounces, thinking that the lad might wish to bring some little
memento to his father and mother. For it is the Chinese custom, on the
feast of Hoa-tchao, to make presents to friends and relations.
That day all the air was drowsy with blossom perfume, and vibrant with
the droning of bees. It seemed to Ming-Y that the path he followed had
not been trodden by any other for many long years; the grass was tall
upon it; vast trees on either side interlocked their mighty and
moss-grown arms above him, beshadowing the way; but the leafy
obscurities quivered with bird-song, and the deep vistas of the wood
were glorified by vapors of gold, and odorous with flower-breathings as
a temple with incense. The dreamy joy of the day entered into the heart
of Ming-Y; and he sat him down among the young blossoms, under the
branches swaying against the violet sky, to drink in the perfume and the
light, and to enjoy the great sweet silence. Even while thus reposing, a
sound caused him to turn his eyes toward a shady place where wild
peach-trees were in bloom; and he beheld a young woman, beautiful as the
pinkening blossoms themselves, trying to hide among them. Though he
looked for a moment only, Ming-Y could not avoid discerning the
loveliness of her face, the golden purity of her complexion, and the
brightness of her long eyes, that sparkled under a pair of brows as
daintily curved as the wings of the silkworm butterfly outspread. Ming-Y
at once turned his gaze away, and, rising quickly, proceeded on his
journey. But so much embarrassed did he feel at the idea of those
charming eyes peeping at him through the leaves, that he suffered the
money he had been carrying in his sleeve to fall, without being aware of
it. A few moments later he heard the patter of light feet running behind
him, and a woman's voice calling him by name. Turning his face in great
surprise, he saw a comely servant-maid, who said to him, "Sir, my
mistress bade me pick up and return you this silver which you dropped
upon the road." Ming-Y thanked the girl gracefully, and requested her to
convey his compliments to her mistress. Then he proceeded on his way
through the perfumed silence, athwart the shadows that dreamed along the
forgotten path, dreaming himself also, and feeling his heart beating
with strange quickness at the thought of the beautiful being that he had
seen.
* * * * *
It was just such another day when Ming-Y, returning by the same path,
paused once more at the spot where the gracious figure had momentarily
appeared before him. But this time he was surprised to perceive, through
a long vista of immense trees, a dwelling that had previously escaped
his notice,--a country residence, not large, yet elegant to an unusual
degree. The bright blue tiles of its curved and serrated double roof,
rising above the foliage, seemed to blend their color with the luminous
azure of the day; the green-and-gold designs of its carven porticos were
exquisite artistic mockeries of leaves and flowers bathed in sunshine.
And at the summit of terrace-steps before it, guarded by great
porcelain tortoises, Ming-Y saw standing the mistress of the
mansion,--the idol of his passionate fancy,--accompanied by the same
waiting-maid who had borne to her his message of gratitude. While Ming-Y
looked, he perceived that their eyes were upon him; they smiled and
conversed together as if speaking about him; and, shy though he was, the
youth found courage to salute the fair one from a distance. To his
astonishment, the young servant beckoned him to approach; and opening a
rustic gate half veiled by trailing plants bearing crimson flowers,
Ming-Y advanced along the verdant alley leading to the terrace, with
mingled feelings of surprise and timid joy. As he drew near, the
beautiful lady withdrew from sight; but the maid waited at the broad
steps to receive him, and said as he ascended:
"Sir, my mistress understands you wish to thank her for the trifling
service she recently bade me do you, and requests that you will enter
the house, as she knows you already by repute, and desires to have the
pleasure of bidding you good-day."
Ming-Y entered bashfully, his feet making no sound upon a matting
elastically soft as forest moss, and found himself in a
reception-chamber vast, cool, and fragrant with scent of blossoms freshly
gathered. A delicious quiet pervaded the mansion; shadows of flying
birds passed over the bands of light that fell through the half-blinds
of bamboo; great butterflies, with pinions of fiery color, found their
way in, to hover a moment about the painted vases, and pass out again
into the mysterious woods. And noiselessly as they, the young mistress
of the mansion entered by another door, and kindly greeted the boy, who
lifted his hands to his breast and bowed low in salutation. She was
taller than he had deemed her, and supplely-slender as a beauteous lily;
her black hair was interwoven with the creamy blossoms of the
_chu-sha-kih_; her robes of pale silk took shifting tints when she
moved, as vapors change hue with the changing of the light.
"If I be not mistaken," she said, when both had seated themselves after
having exchanged the customary formalities of politeness, "my honored
visitor is none other than Tien-chou, surnamed Ming-Y, educator of the
children of my respected relative, the High Commissioner Tchang. As the
family of Lord Tchang is my family also, I cannot but consider the
teacher of his children as one of my own kin."
"Lady," replied Ming-Y, not a little astonished, "may I dare to inquire
the name of your honored family, and to ask the relation which you hold
to my noble patron?"
"The name of my poor family," responded the comely lady, "is _Ping_,--an
ancient family of the city of Tching-tou. I am the daughter of a certain
Sie of Moun-hao; Sie is my name, likewise; and I was married to a young
man of the Ping family, whose name was Khang. By this marriage I became
related to your excellent patron; but my husband died soon after our
wedding, and I have chosen this solitary place to reside in during the
period of my widowhood."
There was a drowsy music in her voice, as of the melody of brooks, the
murmurings of spring; and such a strange grace in the manner of her
speech as Ming-Y had never heard before. Yet, on learning that she was a
widow, the youth would not have presumed to remain long in her presence
without a formal invitation; and after having sipped the cup of rich tea
presented to him, he arose to depart. Sie would not suffer him to go so
quickly.
"Nay, friend," she said; "stay yet a little while in my house, I pray
you; for, should your honored patron ever learn that you had been here,
and that I had not treated you as a respected guest, and regaled you
even as I would him, I know that he would be greatly angered. Remain at
least to supper."
So Ming-Y remained, rejoicing secretly in his heart, for Sie seemed to
him the fairest and sweetest being he had ever known, and he felt that
he loved her even more than his father and his mother. And while they
talked the long shadows of the evening slowly blended into one violet
darkness; the great citron-light of the sunset faded out; and those
starry beings that are called the Three Councillors, who preside over
life and death and the destinies of men, opened their cold bright eyes
in the northern sky. Within the mansion of Sie the painted lanterns were
lighted; the table was laid for the evening repast; and Ming-Y took his
place at it, feeling little inclination to eat, and thinking only of the
charming face before him. Observing that he scarcely tasted the dainties
laid upon his plate, Sie pressed her young guest to partake of wine;
and they drank several cups together. It was a purple wine, so cool that
the cup into which it was poured became covered with vapory dew; yet it
seemed to warm the veins with strange fire. To Ming-Y, as he drank, all
things became more luminous as by enchantment; the walls of the chamber
appeared to recede, and the roof to heighten; the lamps glowed like
stars in their chains, and the voice of Sie floated to the boy's ears
like some far melody heard through the spaces of a drowsy night. His
heart swelled; his tongue loosened; and words flitted from his lips that
he had fancied he could never dare to utter. Yet Sie sought not to
restrain him; her lips gave no smile; but her long bright eyes seemed to
laugh with pleasure at his words of praise, and to return his gaze of
passionate admiration with affectionate interest.
"I have heard," she said, "of your rare talent, and of your many elegant
accomplishments. I know how to sing a little, although I cannot claim to
possess any musical learning; and now that I have the honor of finding
myself in the society of a musical professor, I will venture to lay
modesty aside, and beg you to sing a few songs with me. I should deem it
no small gratification if you would condescend to examine my musical
compositions."
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