The following story shows how sorry they are when they think that they have offended against their parents in any way. In 1908 a traveller met a young man on his way to a famous temple on the top of a mountain in Hunan. The lad had lost his mother and he was very sad because he thought that her death must have been caused by some wrong thing which he had done, either in this life or in some previous existence. He felt sure that if he had not been guilty of some very wicked action, Heaven never would have taken away his mother whilst he was still so young. In order to make up for what he thought to be his crime, he vowed to walk sixty miles to the temple, bowing down to the ground every seven steps which he took. He must have knelt over 250 times in a mile, or more than 15,000 times in all.
To ill-use one’s father or mother is a fault for which there is no forgiveness in China. Some years ago, in one of the cities of the south, a boy who was unkind to his mother and spent his time in gambling, instead of working for her support, was punished by being buried alive.
The following story shows how much power fathers and mothers have over their children, even when they are grown to be men and women. Once there was a Hunan man, named Chiu, who fought bravely against the ‘long-haired rebels,’ and rose to high office in the Canton province. His mother, a big woman with unbound feet and a face marked by small-pox, was a person of strong character who had trained her children to be dutiful and always to obey.
Not long after Mr Chiu had gone to Canton, he sent for his mother to come and stay with him in the big house where he now lived. When word was brought that the servants, whom he had sent with his own silk-lined chair for the old lady, were drawing near to the city, Mr Chiu left his retinue and joined them, following his mother’s chair on foot as it entered the gateway and passed through the city.
The people, as they usually do when there is anything to be seen, lined the streets, filling every doorway with their eager faces, for men, women and children had turned out to see the great man welcome his aged mother.
Old Mrs Chiu sat in the sedan, her big feet sticking out from under the silk front covering of the chair. As he walked along beside the bearers, her son noticed how awkward they looked in that position, and gently pushed them inside with his hand.
On went the silken chair with its bearers and escort, the people gazing with interest on all the marks of honour paid by a good son to his mother. Presently the old lady again stuck out her feet, so that they “showed like a pair of boats” on the footboard of the chair beneath the gaze of the whole city. Mr Chiu, great man as he was, did not dare to push them back again, much as he disliked to have everyone laughing at his mother’s big feet.
When the chair reached the Yamen, or official house, Mr Chiu went to help his mother to get out.
“What place is this?” asked the old lady, as if she did not know her son. “What place is this?”
“This is the Yamen, where you are to live, mother,” answered Mr Chiu.