AT CHANG-CHIA-SHAN.
Signs are not wanting that the old belief in shên shu ("spirit-trees"), as they are called by the Chinese, is more or less rapidly decaying in this district. Certain villages, such as Chang-chia-shan, Wên-ch'üan-chai, Ho-hsi-chuang, Pao-hsin and others, possess fine old trees which, according to tradition, were once "worshipped," but are now only familiar and much-loved landmarks which the villagers would on no account allow to be removed. I do not refer only to the temple-groves and the little woods that shade the ancestral burial-grounds, for they, as we have seen,[379] derive their sanctity from causes not necessarily connected with tree-worship. I refer rather to the large isolated trees that one sometimes sees in or close to a village or overhanging the T'u Ti shrine. In the latter case it would be interesting to know whether it was the tree or the shrine that first possessed the site. Sometimes the little shrine is almost hidden by the low-hanging foliage of a group of trees—such trees having in all probability sprung from a parent-stem. Of the Khond tribes in British India it is said that when they settle in a new village "the sacred cotton-tree must be planted with solemn rites, and beneath it is placed the stone which enshrines the village-deity."[380] Whatever may have been the practice in Weihaiwei, it seems not improbable that similar rites once attended the planting of sacred trees in some parts of China.
The proximity of an ancient Buddhist temple is sufficient to explain how it is that the sacred tree of Lin-chia-yüan is supposed to be inhabited by a Buddhist spirit: but no one seems to have thought it worth while to proselytise the spirit of the most famous tree in the Territory, the sophora of the village of Mang-tao, which enjoys a celebrity extending far beyond the limits of the surrounding villages. Only a year or two ago a serious calamity befell the villagers of Mang-tao. During one night of dismal memory their famous tree caught fire and was destroyed. Their consternation was great, for the disaster seemed irremediable; but the local sages rose to the occasion, for they declared that the tree-spirit had grown tired of the old tree and had moved into a smaller one a few yards further up the village-street. As for the fire, it was explained as being t'ien huo—fire from heaven—sent purposely at the instigation of the migrated tree-spirit in order to prevent people from worshipping the wrong tree. A circumstantial story has already been invented in the village to this effect. A villager came with incense to pay his respects to the old tree which—unknown to him—was now untenanted. The tree-spirit from his new perch saw what was going on, and was much disgusted to perceive that the old tree, though he had abandoned it, was still the recipient of offerings. Grinding his branches with rage and jealousy at the vexatious spectacle, he persuaded heaven to send a mysterious wind that fanned the villager's lighted sticks of incense into a mighty flame, which speedily stripped the poor old tree of bark and foliage. Whatever the true cause of the fire may have been, the fact is indisputable that the tree was completely destroyed. Its blackened trunk has been removed by the villagers, so that not a trace of the tree now remains; while its proud successor is now decorated with the rags and other offerings that once hung upon its venerable branches.
The Mang-tao tree is prayed to for many things, but especially for recovery from illness, and the rags are chiefly the offerings of grateful worshippers whose prayers have met with favourable response. It is very possible that the rags were originally regarded as the mere vehicles of expelled diseases in accordance with the old superstition already described, but there is no doubt that the tree or the tree-spirit is looked upon as the power through which the diseases are driven out. The Mang-tao tree is often adorned with more than mere rags: cloth scrolls on which are inscribed mottoes and sentences expressive of gratitude and reverence are also to be seen on its branches. Grant Allen remarks that "Christianity has not extinguished the veneration for sacred trees in Syria, where they are still prayed to in sickness and hung with rags."[381] It is interesting to find in a remote Weihaiwei village—probably never visited by any European other than an occasional Englishman on official duty—a superstition that still flourishes in the very birthplace of Christianity.
FOOTNOTES:
[334] Prof. H. A. Giles holds that the Tao Tê Ching is a compilation and was not written by Lao Tzŭ himself though it probably enshrines some of his sayings. He gives strong reasons for believing that it must have been compiled after the appearance of the works of Chuang Tzŭ (fourth century B.C.), Han Fei Tzŭ (third century B.C.) and Huai Nan Tzŭ (second century B.C.). As for Lao Tzŭ himself, Dr. Giles rejects the slender evidence that makes him a contemporary of Confucius, and assigns him to "some unknown period in remote antiquity." (China and the Chinese, pp. 145, 148 seq.)
[335] Cf. Dr. W. A. P. Martin in his Lore of Cathay, and many other authorities.
[336] Cf. Sir Robert Douglas, Confucianism and Taouism (5th ed.), p. 191. Max Müller rejected the theory that Tao was a Vedic idea transferred from India to China: but he mentioned a Sanskrit word and concept which in its historical development ran parallel with that of Tao. This word was Rita—the Way, the Path, the κινοῦν ἀκίνητον or primum mobile. (Last Essays, Second Series, pp. 290 seq.)