Chin-Chin; Or, The Chinaman at Home

by Ki-tong Tcheng

“Imagine his stupefaction when he discovered that this individual was not a professor at all, and that his real profession was that of a gardener. He had been forced to play the rôle of professor against his will. He was taken to be a savant, and a savant he had to be. On his arrival in Germany he had been at once considered a man of letters on the strength of his appearance only, without having to give any proof of his capacities, or to pass any examination. Not to injure this victim of a mistake, and to take advantage of his talents, he was appointed gardener at Sans-Souci, where, as it happens, I noticed several specimens of Chinese gardening operations.”

I cannot vouch for the truth of the preceding anecdote, but, true or false, the story is amusing enough to be related. After all, the man only had to change the course of his studies, and from being a professor of Chinese, developed into a professor of Chinese gardening.

A man of letters, named Ko-To-Tao (To-Tao means the humpback, a soubriquet given to the man whose real name nobody knew, and who seemed to enjoy his nickname), used to dwell in the village Foun-Lo (fertility and joy), which lies to the west of Tchiang-Nyang. He used to cultivate trees, which were so beautiful that they were the envy of all the rich people of the province, and all the traders bought from him. All the incomparable plants which came from his garden flourished and grew much quicker than any others. Some one asked him what was the secret of his success. He answered that there was no secret in the matter. All that he did was merely to study the individual character of the plant, and to treat it accordingly.

“When you plant a tree,” he said, “you must make it comfortable, give it plenty of room to grow in, and see that the soil in which it is planted is rich and solid. Then you must leave it alone, not move it about. From time to time, treat it with the care that you would show to your own child. Don’t spoil it, when it is in want of nothing. Thus brought up the tree is free, and thrives, as it is its nature to do. I do not prevent its development, which comes of its own accord. Others who plant trees often change the earth round it, making it sometimes too strong, sometimes too poor, and spoil their pupils by too much care. Not satisfied with looking at them, they touch them; sometimes even they cut into the bark to see if they are living or dead. No sooner have the buds sprouted, than they examine them to see if they will turn into fruit. The tree is not free, and its character changes. You think that you are showing love, but you are destroying. You are trying to show care, and you are dealing death. That is why my system is superior to all others. But in all that I have no particular merit.”

He was asked if the same system could be applied in government offices.

“No; I know nothing about anything but trees. It is not my trade to govern nations. I have seen good governments, who, instead of leaving people free to work, took them under their protection. Then each day brought with it its sheaf of decrees and laws, ordering people into the fields and to their trades, and regulating their customs and ways of living. The people, being no longer master of itself or of its movements, comes to no good. As for myself, I am old and infirm, and occupy myself with my trees alone.”

The person who had been talking with him, delighted to have learned the true system of government, whilst endeavouring to learn how to plant trees, wrote down the conversation for the instruction of the government officials.

After all, there is little difference between the education of a tree and of a man. Our forefathers used to say that it takes a century to complete the education of a man, and that the proper education of a tree lasts at least ten years.