TALE.
Translated from the Chinese by M. Henri Mouhot.
There lived formerly in a Chinese village an old couple who had no children; and one day the husband put himself in a violent passion with his wife for never having had any, and even beat her. The poor old woman rushed out of the house, crying, and ran a long way. A priest of Buddha met her accidentally, and asked her what had happened to her. “My husband was angry to-day, and beat me, because we had no children,” replied she. “Listen,” said the priest; “I will make you happy! Dig in this earth and knead it” (it was clay). The woman obeyed, and the priest then sat down, and with his fingers moulded nine little figures. “The first,” said he, “will have long ears and very quick hearing; the second, a piercing sight; the third, a skin so hard that he will not feel any blow; the fourth will stand fire without hurt; the fifth will have an enormous head, as hard as iron; the sixth, legs long enough to cross the deepest stream; the seventh, feet as large as those of an elephant, for walking in mire; the eighth, an immense stomach; and the ninth, a nose as long as a pipe, from which jets of water will issue at command. Now,” continued the priest, “go home, and every year eat one of these children.” The old woman bowed several times, professing her gratitude and happiness; then she returned home; but in her joy, instead of contenting herself with one child, she eat up all nine at once. Her stomach, which had begun to swell at once, grew every month bigger and bigger, and became frightful. The husband was beside himself with joy, and was very kind to his wife.
At last the day of delivery arrived: the father received the first child, and ran to wash him in the stream; but there came a second. “Another!” cried the father, and ran again to the river. Returning, he found a third, then a fourth. He opened his eyes and cried, “Really this is quite enough: what can we give them to eat?” But the whole nine made their appearance on the same day.
All were prodigies: they grew rapidly; never cried; eat enormously, and began to run about in two months. But the old man did not know what to call them all; and one day he complained to his wife that he could not distinguish them one from another, got in another passion, and struck her again. The old woman ran away, crying, again, and went to find the priest who had helped her before. “Why do you cry now?” said he. “My husband has so many children now that he does not know what names to give them.” “You are very foolish,” replied he, “not to be able to distinguish them by the gifts they possess. Call one ‘Quick-ear,’ another ‘Hard-head,’ and so on for the others.”
The old man had calmed down when his wife returned; but debts accumulated as the children grew up. At last they became strong and fearless.
One day a creditor came and asked for money. “I have none,” replied the old man. He persisted in this reply, and at last turned the creditor out of the house. A few days after, this man collected several of his friends, and went again to the old man, declaring he would seize one of the children, and whip him. “Quick-ear” had heard all, and “Piercing-eye” had mounted to the top of a tree and seen all that was going on. They decided that “Hard-skin” would be the best to go, and the creditor succeeded in binding him and taking him away. But every cane broke on his back, without hurting him: at last they took an immense cudgel, but this broke in the same way; and seeing that it was lost time to beat him, they let him go home.
But a few days after, the creditor came back, determined to kill one of the children with boiling water. “Quick-ear” heard the project, and “Invulnerable” was left at home, and consequently carried off. They threw him into a boiler full of water; and in about an hour, when they opened it, the child raised his head. “What, not yet dead!” cried the creditor, in a fury, and he made up a larger fire, but “Invulnerable” was still alive. They made it still hotter, but the next day their wood was exhausted, and they let him go free, saying that Buddha protected him. “This is very sad,” said the creditor; “I cannot get my money; I cannot get my money: I will write a letter to Heaven, to beg that fire may be sent down to burn the house of my debtor.” He did so accordingly; but “Quick-ear,” who heard the plot, warned “Fountain-nose,” who thereupon took care to water the roof. The thunderbolt fell, but glided from the roof to the ground. All the children joined their strength, and lifted it, chained it up, and placed it in the house.
“Is it possible,” cried the creditor, “that they are not all dead? I must throw one of them into the sea.” This time it was “Stilt-bird’s” turn. The boat in which they placed him had not gone far from the shore when a storm arose and upset it, and all the men were drowned, with the exception of “Stilt-bird,” who escaped, thanks to his long legs. However, his brothers feared for him, and sent “Big-head” to the shore, where he found him fishing, and having already caught so many fish that he did not know where to put them. Luckily “Big-head” had his hat, which they filled, and returned home with an immense load. “Large-feet” went to cut wood to fry it with; but “Great-stomach” eat it all up before his brothers had hardly had time to begin. “Weeping-eyes” began to cry, and an inundation ensued, in which many of the neighbours perished.
Meanwhile, all the children were out searching for food, and the mother was left at home alone. She, seeing the thunderbolt chained in a corner, unfastened it. Immediately it rose in the air, then, falling again, struck the poor woman, and killed her.