THE WILD GOOSE AND THE SPARROW
The great Chinese sage, Confucius, had a son-in-law, Kung Yeh Chang, who understood better than any one before or since his day the habits of birds. So much time and study did he give to them that tradition says he understood all bird language and many stories are told of him in this connection. He built a beautiful pavilion in his garden, which was rich in flowers, trees, shrubs, and ponds, so that the birds loved to gather there; thus he was able to spend many delightful hours in their company listening to their wise and unwise talk.
Many of these conversations have been handed down the past two thousand years in the wonderful folklore of China, and from these one can see the influence they have had on the customs and traditions of the people.
Among the Chinese the wild goose has the reputation for having more virtues and wisdom than any other bird. This is brought out in the following story. One day, while Kung Yeh Chang was resting in his pavilion, a small house-sparrow lit in a tree near-by and commenced [[57]]singing and chattering. A little later a wild goose dropped down by the pond for a drink. Hardly had he taken a sip when the little sparrow called out, “Who are you? Where are you going?” To this the goose did not reply and the sparrow became angry and asked again, “Who are you, that you should be so proud and lofty you cannot pay attention to my questions? Why do you consider me beneath your notice?” and still the goose did not answer. Then, indeed, was the little sparrow furious. In a loud, shrill voice, he said, “Every one listens to me! Again I ask, who are you with your lofty airs? Tell me or I will fly at you,” and he put his head up, and spread his wings, and tried to look very large and fierce.
By this time the goose had finished drinking, and looking up he said, “Don’t you know that in a big tree with many branches and large leaves the cicadas love to gather and make a noise? I could not hear you distinctly. You also know the saying of the Ancients, ‘If you stand on a mountain and talk to the people in the valley they cannot hear you,’ ” and the wild goose took another drink.
How the little sparrow chattered and sputtered, shook his wings, and at last said, “In what way are you, with your long neck and short tail, better than I? In what is your value [[58]]greater. Tell me, and if you can prove it you shall be my teacher. What, for instance, do you know of the great world? Now, I can go into people’s houses, hide in the rafters under their windows, see their books and pictures, what they have to eat and what they do. I can hear all the family secrets, know all that goes on in the family and state. I know who are happy and who are sad. I know all the quarrels and all the gossip. All the other birds are glad to see me because I can tell them the latest news, and I know just how to tell it to produce the best effect. So you see that I know much that you, with your great stupid body, can never hope to know.”
“We consider,” said the wild goose, “that the highest law of virtue and good is to give others an equal chance with ourselves, or even to give them the first choice. Because of this we always fly either in the shape of the character ‘Man’ or the figure one. No one takes advantage of the other. We believe in the ‘Three Bonds,’ i.e., Prince and Minister, Husband and Wife, Father and Son. Also in the five virtues,—Benevolence, Righteousness, Propriety, Knowledge, and Truth. With us, if the male bird dies, the female flies alone; if the female dies the male flies alone; if both parents die their young fly alone for three [[59]]years. We have our unchanging customs of going north in the spring and south in the winter. People come to depend on us, and make ready for either their spring work or the cold of winter. Thus, while we have not known the family or state skeletons and the gossip of the women and servants, we are a help to man.
“Now, you have no laws binding you. As a family, you sparrows are selfish; you gossip, chatter, steal, and drive away every one else, only thinking of your own good. Even among yourselves you quarrel. Because of these things you are treated with contempt and looked lightly upon by all. Indeed, so much so that you are a by-word. Now, we are respected and held up as models. Do you not hear parents and teachers tell their children and scholars to come and go quietly by themselves to and from school; to go straight ahead without looking to the right or left; not to gather in groups and chatter like house-sparrows? Do not the respectable people do the same on the street and in the house? Is there not a proverb that ‘There are many people without the wisdom and virtues of the wild goose’? You do, indeed, chatter about small affairs like foolish women and girls and thus are beneath my notice and I bid you good-day.”
All this time the poor little sparrow was [[60]]trembling with rage, and so great was it that she could not fly away nor keep her hold on the branch of the tree, and so she fell to the ground, and thus she died.
Kung Yeh Chang exclaimed as he looked at her and then at the goose away in the distance, “Ai ya [sad, sad], most of mankind are like the sparrow, but the truly superior man will be like the wild goose and follow the rules of the Three Bonds and Five Virtues.” [[61]]
A CHINESE HERO
Han Hsin
The youth of Western lands know very little of the great land of China, with its long history reaching far back into the dim past. How little is known of the fierce, stupendous struggles in the long ago, when China was not one country but was composed of many small kingdoms whose people were constantly fighting with each other for supremacy.
It was in those early days that were born China’s heroes who have been remembered ever since in song and story. To the Chinese but little stage setting is necessary for their national heroes. In their theatrical plays their imaginations fill in, with the help of mere suggestions, all that is needed to make their surroundings very real to them.
One of China’s greatest heroes was Han Hsin. He lived in the kingdom of Chin, very many centuries ago. When he was a small boy he showed remarkable wisdom, and, although he was very small of stature, his teachers predicted a great future for him. [[62]]
One day, when Han was only six years old, he and another little boy were playing ball, when the ball came down into the deep hole of the millstones. They could not get it out at first and the other lad wanted to call for help. Little Han Hsin said, “No, I will think of a plan.” Finding a long stick, he began filling the hole with earth. As he poured the earth into the hole, he kept stirring the ball around, thereby keeping it on top of the earth until he could reach it with his hand.
Another time he saw a woman, in rage, jump into a large earthen water-barrel. He was not strong enough to draw her out, and no one was near, so he found a stone and beat with all his strength on the barrel until he made a hole in it near the bottom, and the water running out, the life of the woman was saved. Many such stories, and more wonderful ones, were told of him, and his fame spread all over the kingdom.
In those days every prince had a wise man, or a group of wise men, about him to give him advice regarding the affairs of his kingdom. Han Hsin was presented to his Prince by his teachers as worthy of holding such a position, but when the Prince and his officers saw how small he was, they laughed and said, “We do not want a child,” and would not accept his services. [[63]]
Han Hsin then went and presented himself at the court of the Prince of Chin Chou. Now, this Prince, Chin Pa, was noted for his strength. It was said of him that, if he tried, he could breathe the roof off the house; also that he could lift himself up by the hair. When he was small he was fed on the milk of the tiger. Thus his strength was not the strength of man.
When Han Hsin was presented to this Prince by his teachers as a wise man and one who could help him make his country strong, he laughed and said, “What can such a boy do? If I hold out my head and tell him to cut it off he has not the strength to do it, even though I stand still and do not resist him. How can there be wisdom in such a small boy? How can such as he help me? He cannot fight for me or wait on me. Take away the child, I do not want him.”
The teachers urged the Prince to give the young man a trial and at last he said, “Here is my spear—let him hold it up straight for half a day. If he is strong enough for that, he may find something to do in my service.” Alas! Han Hsin could not even for half an hour hold up the great iron spear, and he was driven with laughter and derision from the court. [[64]]
When the teachers remonstrated with the Prince he said, “I want no such weakling in my kingdom.”
“But you have made an enemy of him,” they urged, “and if you do not use him, you should kill him. Although you, our Prince, will not believe us, we know if you let him go he will, in the end, be used by some other kingdom to destroy yours.” At this Chin Pa laughed loud and long, but seeing the anxious and serious faces of the teachers he said, “I will take some soldiers and go after him, and if you wish I will kill him.”
Now when Han Hsin, in bitterness of heart, was driven from the court he took the road leading to the mountains, and was part way up when, chancing to look back, he saw the mounted band coming. They did not see him, but he knew that they were in search of him. He knew that he could not escape, so he stretched himself out on the side of the hill with his feet toward the top and his head toward the bottom of the hill, and pretended that he was asleep.
When Chin Pa came up and saw him there he smiled to himself and called to his men to remount, and away they went back to the castle, laughing and making merry over the thought that any one who would sleep in such [[65]]a position, could rend the kingdom away from their great Prince.
When the teachers heard of the outcome of the pursuit of Han Hsin they were troubled and said, “It is craft and not stupidity—go back again, overtake him and kill him.” To please them and for the sport of it, the Prince started out again. By this time Han Hsin had crossed the mountains and was walking on the plain. Again he saw them coming, and looking about he discovered a very ill-smelling hole, and bending over it he exclaimed, as his pursuers came up, “Ah, how sweet, how fragrant!”
This time the Prince declared that Han Hsin was entirely foolish, and he would not kill a fool, for a man who did not know the difference between the sweetly fragrant and the offensive was not one a Prince need fear.
Thus Han Hsin was left to himself, and returned to his own country and village. His own Prince, Han Kao Lin, again refused him. At that time this Prince was at war with Chin Pa and was very hard pressed by the latter, and anxious to surround himself with wise men. He could not see, however, how there could be wisdom in such a small man as Han Hsin. But, at last, after much persuasion, he gave a reluctant permission for him to be made [[66]]leader of the army which was about to set out to attack Chin Pa.
Old pictures show Han Hsin seated on a throne and worshipped by the military men and soldiers under him. They believed that he was to lead them to victory and save their country. It is said that he knew every soldier, and could tell at a glance how many there were in a company passing before him and who were absent from the ranks. He was one of the greatest military leaders, if not the greatest, in Chinese history.
One time, when engaged in war with the Kingdom of Chao, he drove the enemy to the bank of a river, but they got over in their own boats and destroyed them on the other side. Feeling secure in the thought that the army under Han Hsin could not cross that night, they made a camp and had a feast. But Han Hsin was not an ordinary man and he commanded every man to get a board of some kind and in the darkness to swim across quietly. This they did, and fell upon the merry camp and won a great victory.
Another time Han Hsin insisted on camping on the shore of the great river. His officers and men protested, and said that he was not leaving any path for retreat in case of defeat, as they had no ships or bridges and few could [[67]]swim so far. All the comfort they could get was his reply, “When defeat comes we will discuss the question.” The enemy were seen coming upon them from the front, and then Han Hsin called to his men to fight for their lives, for death was certainly behind them in the river, but, if they fought bravely, they could defeat the enemy in front. This they did with great slaughter.
At another time, when fighting with the great Chin Pa, of the Kingdom of Chin, the latter shut up all but one of the roads over the mountains and awaited Han Hsin in ambuscade in a very narrow place, the only one where it seemed possible for him to get over the mountains. He did not even then know the military master that he had to deal with in Han Hsin, as it was still early in the war. Han Hsin sent out his spies, disguised as countrymen, and learned the condition of things. So, calling up his men to make a lot of bags, even turning their clothes into bags, his army set out.
On reaching the steepest place in ascending the mountains, he commanded the army to halt and fill the bags with earth. This place was not guarded, as it was supposed to be impossible of ascent. During the night, however, Han Hsin ordered an advance, and, using the bags to make a series of steps, his army went [[68]]quickly up and over to the other side, to the rear of Chin Pa’s army. Here Han Hsin attacked the enemy in force and easily put them to flight. Later they recovered themselves and in many battles afterward between these two great generals neither could obtain any great advantage.
Now Han Hsin had a friend and helper in Chang Lang, a literary man who was wise and safe to trust, and who often helped him in his plans. They talked over the situation, and Chang Lang said that the strength of Chin Pa was in a company of three thousand soldiers who were all related to each other, and whose officers were also of the same clan. In some way that company must be disbanded or Han Hsin never would win the final victory. Many plans were formed, but the soldiers of the clan seemed to possess charmed lives.
At last Chang Lang came one night to the tent of Han Hsin and said, “I have found a way, and, as there is a fine wind and it is on the eve of a battle, I will try my new scheme.” He then produced a large kite, the first ever made, and disclosed his plan. All these years Han Hsin had remembered how Chin Pa had laughed at his small stature, but he was that night to show him that, though small, he was formidable as an enemy. [[69]]
Some of his officers were called in and fastened him by ropes to the kite and then let go. Gradually the kite ascended, and, in the twilight, appeared high over the camp of the three thousand soldiers. They were filled with terror, for never before had such a thing been seen or heard of. It was dark enough to prevent them from seeing Han Hsin at the height and distance he was from them. The kite came to rest for a few moments, and they heard a voice say, “You all have old and young in your homes. Why do you not go home to them? If you stay on, you will some day all be killed; then who will worship at the grave of your fathers and hand down the name?”
The men said, “It is a voice of a god, a warning, let us depart at once,” and that night they left the camp.
The battle the next day was terrific, but in the end Han Hsin won a great victory. When urged to kill his old enemy he said, “No, let him go, for he will kill himself, and that will be better.” So, Chin Pa was set at liberty and started with his army to return south. The battle had been near a river and Han Hsin knew that Chin Pa must cross it on his retreat. So, before the battle was fought, Han Hsin had written, in honey, on a big stone slab near the ford, these four words, “Heaven Destroy [[70]]Hsiang Yi.” The last two words were Chin Pa’s name. A swarm of ants scenting the honey crawled up to eat it, and thus outlined the characters very distinctly.
When Chin Pa came over the river and saw the stone with the four large characters he said, “Woe is me, even the worms and ants know that Heaven has deserted me. I will kill myself.” And then and there, almost in sight of his enemy, the man he had regarded with contempt, he killed himself.
Thus ended a strife of nearly twenty years between two kingdoms, and Han Hsin came to be the Prince of his kingdom. Often during the time of kite-flying in China, away in the heavens one sees a kite in the shape of an old-time warrior, and few of the many beautiful and fancy kites to be seen have such an interesting story. The kite has come to be, in Western lands, merely an amusement, but in China, where it was probably invented, it ever carries with the sport the message, “Strength of mind is greater than strength of body.” [[71]]
A CHINESE TEA-HOUSE STORY
Chi Hsiao Tang
One day the Emperor Chia Ching called his scribe, the great and crafty Yen Sung, and said, “I want four poems immediately, one on each of the seasons.”
The word was sent out and within a few days poems were presented and accepted on Summer, Autumn, and Winter, but not one written on Spring pleased the Emperor. Again and again the literary men wrote on the subject, but only to fail of his approbation. At last he declared in a rage that unless a poem that could be set to music and sung by the ladies of the palace should immediately be produced there would soon be fewer literary men in the country, and commanded his minister to see that his wishes were at once carried out.
Yen Sung, almost in despair, went to his steward and told him his dilemma. Now, Nien Chi, the steward, was as bold and bad a man as his master, shrewd and cunning withal. After a moment’s thought he said, “Rest your heart! I know a teacher of great ability, who [[72]]lives at my inn; I will see what he can do.” He called his cart, went in great state to the inn, and asked for a man by the name of Chi Hsiao Tang. When Teacher Chi appeared Nien Chi with profound bows and his most pleasing manner said, “The fame of your literary ability has come to the ears of my master, Yen Sung, and he desires you to write immediately a poem on Spring.”
Chi Hsiao Tang replied, “I am a man of mean ability, but that is indeed an easy subject which you give me. Return in a few hours’ time and my poor production shall be ready for you.”
Nien Chi thanked him and took his leave. He returned later and the poem was awaiting him as promised. He read it with delight and said to the author, “The gods have indeed given you a great gift. One of them must have spoken to you from the Imperial heavens. My master will surely call and thank you in person.” He then withdrew and hastened to the palace of Yen Sung, who seized the manuscript and read it eagerly, exclaiming, as he finished its perusal, “Thank the gods, we are saved! This is simply perfect.”
Then his face fell, for on the corner of the sheet were the name and seal of the writer. “This will never do,” said he. “I want to send [[73]]it in as my own, and how can I? Alas! I must still delay to copy it to-night.”
The next day he presented it to the Emperor as his own “mean effort,” and humbly begged for pardon that he could do no better for his great and mighty sovereign. The Emperor was much pleased and gave Yen Sung costly presents and high literary honours.
Shortly after came the triennial examinations for the advanced degrees.
Yen Sung was one of the judges of the essays. He knew that Chi Hsiao Tang would probably be promoted as he was a man of such ability, and he feared that the story of the poem would in some way reach the ears of the Emperor.
After much thought as to how to avert such a calamity, he issued a proclamation that no one by the name of Chi be admitted to the examination.
Chi Hsiao Tang presented himself at the hall on the opening day, but was refused a place among the aspirants for degrees, the only reason given being that an order barring all of his surname had been issued by the powerful minister and judge, Yen Sung. In great sorrow and disappointment the scholar returned to his inn and wrote to his wife, telling her to sell some of their land and come to Peking to await [[74]]with him the next opportunity for examination, three years later. This she did. They rented a place and there, day by day, he studied, hoping to see the ban lifted.
One day while out for a walk he saw a great crowd gathered. Drawing near he found that a man of eminence was to be executed. He asked, “Who is the prisoner?” and was told, “An official by the name of Pai.”
“What has he done that he should be so degraded?” asked Chi Hsiao Tang of a man standing near. “How can you ask that?” replied the man, “when Yen Sung is the head of the Empire. He has but to nod and officials lose their heads.”
As the already disappointed scholar turned away he said, “What can I hope for when such a man as that is executed?” Sadly musing, he continued, “I had hoped to become an official, serve my country, and receive honour, but I see the life of a minister is a most dangerous one. If he would be upright, he has not the rest and quiet of the common citizen. All is weakness and evil under the sun. I will no longer mingle with men, but will go apart and seek to prepare myself for a higher existence among those who by contemplation and renunciation have become fit for companionship with the gods.” [[75]]
He went home, told his wife what he had seen, and said, “I have given up my plan for an official life. At our home in the country are houses and land, all you can ever need.” “Why not return at once, care for our property, and live in quiet?” asked his wife. “No! There is no hope for me. I give all our possessions to you,” was his reply.
“What is your purpose?” questioned the now anxious wife. “If you will not return to the home of your ancestors, what do you mean by giving the land to me? Are you going to enter the Eternal?”
Chi Hsiao Tang looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, “I will go to some quiet place in the mountains. There will I live and purify myself from this evil world. I care or hope no longer for earthly joy or position. It is all vanity—vanity.”
“But what of me?” urged his wife. “Am I nothing more to you? Are you casting me off also? This you shall not do. We will go together to the country and there you will forget your disappointment, or I too will go with you to the purple hills by Buddha’s help. Possibly by long years of tears, prayers, and self-denial the great Buddha will have compassion on me, and I too may find Peace. I cannot hope to enter into your spirit life, I [[76]]who am only a woman, but surely the effort I make will at least be seen by the god. Do you think, because I am a woman, my heart does not long for that which can give rest? Why do I sit every night, hour after hour, with my tongue pressed against the roof of my mouth, my hands and feet crossed, trying not to be conscious of any bodily sensation. Is it not that I too may come in touch with the great pure Holy Ones? Why do I repeat the name of the great Buddha hundreds of times each day, before anything to eat or drink crosses my lips? Why am I almost a cripple? Is it not because of the long hours of kneeling on the cold brick floor praying to the Goddess of Mercy? Have I not kept the fast days most faithfully since coming into your home? Have I eaten meat? When you were ill did I not promise the gods that if you recovered I would go to the highest temple on the mountains, crawling all the way on hands and knees, and when you were restored to health did I not fulfil my vow? Did I not wear single garments all one winter? Did I not take flesh from my own arm to make a broth which cured our mother when she was ill? Do none of these things appeal to the Holy Ones? Can I not hope that I too, a poor woman, may attain to the Eternal Rest?” The tears streamed down her cheeks as she added, [[77]]“Have compassion upon me, your wife, and let me go with you.”
Chi Hsiao Tang looked tenderly at her for a moment and then, with a great sigh, which showed that he too suffered at the parting, replied, “What I have said I have said! You would prevent me from seeing the Eternal Light. You would hold me still to the earthly.” He ordered dinner, and as he sat eating he saw a new bench drop down into his court.
“This,” said he to himself, “must have come from the gods, whether to help me to leave the earth or to keep me on it I will test and see.” So he said to the bench, “If you are to help me leave the earth move up and down three times.” This the bench immediately did. His wife coming in at the moment, he called to her “to look at the magic bench.” She replied in astonishment, but with a sense of relief, “What is this, are you bereft of your senses? You a Teacher to talk of a magic bench.” He answered gravely, “You shall see me sit on the bench and rise in the air,” and before she realized what had befallen her, he was rising into space and was soon beyond her sight.
“Ah!” said she as she wept; “he has gone to the purple mountains to attain the god-life. He has left me here; I will seek it in my home.” She called to him and a faint sound came from [[78]]the distance, “The gods have had pity upon me and taken me from the evil of the world,” and here he was seen no more. The bench carried him to a mountain far from all with which he was familiar, and there came to rest. He rose to his feet and as he did so the bench disappeared. He looked north, south, east, and west, nothing but stones and hills, not a human being in sight.
He said to himself, “What can I do here? I will walk until I find some living thing.” Far in the distance on a high mountain-top he saw what appeared to be a man. After hours of weary climbing, faint with hunger and thirst, he reached the spot. He found two men sitting on a stone; one had on a yellow robe, white stockings, and striped shoes. His face was very white and he wore a long beard. At his side was a cow’s tail, used to brush away flies. The other man was dressed in black, had a dark face, protruding eyes, and a long black beard. One was facing to the east, the other to the west, and they were playing chess. Above them was a beautiful spruce tree, by their side a dish of peaches and one of pears, two wine-cups and a bottle of wine. When Chi Hsiao Tang came up to them they did not lift their heads or look up, seemed only interested in their game. But he thought, [[79]]“These are surely two gods in disguise,” and kneeling before them he said, “I prostrate myself to you, my Teachers. I wish to prepare myself to join the Immortals.”
The man in yellow lifted his head and asked, “Where do you come from and why are you not going in for the examinations, for I see that you are a man of no mean ability?” Chi Hsiao Tang replied, “It is all vanity.”
“You are rich; why are you not satisfied with the things which money will buy?” was the next question. “They also are vanity,” was his answer. “Name, honour, riches, luxury; at the end of all is death,” continued Chi Hsiao Tang. “I have looked at it all, tasted much of it, and it does not satisfy beyond the passing moment. I do not desire it, and I have come to you, my Teachers, for instruction as to the way of attaining purification and the true life.” “To attain that you must suffer much. Can you endure?” said the sage. “I can,” was the reply. “Difficulties are many. Can you meet them?” Still he answered, “I can. I am not afraid of difficulties.” “But,” urged the wise man, “if you desire to attain the true life you must be ready to save, not to destroy men. No one can wear fine clothes like yours and put away the world. You will have to put on coarse cloth garments. When [[80]]your shoes are worn out can you go barefooted on these rocky hillsides?” “I can in time,” was the reply. “We have no dainty food to eat, only grain and wild roots without salt. Can you eat these?” “Yes, this also in time.” “At home you have wine, tea, and hot water to drink. Can you give up all these and drink from the holes by the roadside?” “Yes! In time I can do even this.” The sage added further, “You will have also to serve us, dig roots, and prepare our food, you who at home have always been served. Can you eat[1] all this bitterness, even to becoming a servant?” Chi Hsiao said earnestly, “All this I can and will do.” “One thing more,” said the man in yellow. “I have a dreadful sore on my foot. You will have to wash and dress that every day. I will show it to you!” It was indeed a shocking sight. For a moment Chi Hsiao Tang’s heart failed him, but he resolutely put down the disgust and nausea which the sickening sore produced, and answered as before, “I can dress it, Worthy Teacher.” “But you must press the poison out with your lips. Will you do that?” “Yes!” “Then try it now.” As he stooped and put his lips to what seemed a most loathsome sore, behold! it was a beautiful [[81]]ripe and luscious peach, bound with invisible bands about the foot.
When the two Worthies saw the settled purpose of the man they said, “You may remain with us. We will teach you how to become one of the Perfect Ones.” At the close of his novitiate they sent him among the mountain people to help those in distress, to cheer the sad and discouraged, and found him always ready to serve as a messenger of the gods. Thus in a life of unselfish service of man was he made pure, until he reached that perfection which is absorption into the Divine. [[82]]
[1] A common Chinese expression for discomfort, pain, or sorrow. [↑]