Filial Duty, Chapter 18: Mourning for One's Parents

Translation

CHAPTER XVIII

MOURNING FOR ONE’S PARENTS

Confucius said: “When a filial son loses his parent, he, of course,

cannot help crying piteously. He cannot feel happy when he hears music.

He will have no appetite for food, however tempting a savoury. He will

greet no visitor, have no regard for elegance of speech, and will put

on a mourning-dress instead of a beautiful one. All these tell us

the extent of his sorrow for his lost parent. What is meant by the

saying that he must try to eat something after three days from the

death of his parent, though he has no appetite for it? It teaches us

that although we have to show great sorrow for the dead, yet we must

not sacrifice ourselves on their account, and that we must not carry

self-mortification so far as to destroy our life. This is the doctrine

laid down by good men of old. That mourning only extends to the period

of three years shows that there is a limit for our sorrow.

“For the corpse we make a coffin and some clothes. We set forth the

sacrificial vessels, and at the sight of them grief breaks forth

afresh. The women beat their breasts, the men stamp their feet, and

with weeping and wailing escort the coffin to its resting-place. For

its burial we buy a well-drained ground. In memory of our deceased

parent we build a shrine. For the purpose of showing our remembrance we

offer sacrifices every spring and autumn.

“When our parents are alive, we should treat them with love and

respect. When they are dead, we should have sorrow for them. By doing

so we shall have performed the duty of mankind, and have done what

ought to be done by a filial son, and by the living to the dead.

THE TWENTY-FOUR EXAMPLES

No. I

The Filial Piety that influenced Heaven

Yü Shun, the son of Ku Sou, had an exceedingly filial disposition;

his father, however, was stupid, his mother perverse, and his younger

brother, Hsiang, very conceited. His actions are related in the _Shang

Shu, in the Chung Yung_, and in the works of Mencius. Those who speak

of him say that Shun cultivated the hills of Li (in the province of

Shansi), where he had elephants to plough his fields and birds to weed

the grain. So widespread was the renown of his virtue that the Emperor

Yao heard of him, and sent his nine sons to serve him, and gave to him

two of his daughters in marriage, and afterwards resigned to him the

imperial dignity.

Of all those whose virtue and filial duty deserve to be illustrated,

Shun is pre-eminent; and his example, in obeying his parents, is worthy

of being handed down to posterity, through myriads of ages. Once he was

in great danger in a well, into which he was commanded by his father to

descend, and his brother cast down stones upon him; again, he was in a

granary, when it was set on fire; but from these, as well as from many

other dangers, he escaped unhurt. He fished, burned pottery, ploughed

and sowed, with great toil on the hills of Li. He laboriously performed

all these duties, but his parents were not affected, while his brother

Hsiang became more insolent and overbearing. His parents alleged crimes

against him, but Shun could not find that he had done wrong; he loved

and revered them, though they did not requite him with affection. His

feelings were grieved at these manifold troubles, and with strong

crying and tears he invoked Heaven.

His perfect sincerity was effectual to renovate his family; his parents

became pleasant, and his brother more conciliatory and virtuous.

Heaven also considered his excellency to be great, and regarded him

as truly good, thus establishing his reputation so firmly that it was

perpetuated to, and influenced, succeeding ages. Even Confucius is

regarded as elevated but a little above Shun, and I would praise and

extol them both to coming generations.

No. II

Affection shown in tasting Soups and Medicines

The Emperor Wên of the Han dynasty, the third son of his father, Kao

Tsu, was appointed Prince over the country of Tai. His own mother,

Po, was Queen-dowager, and Wên was constant in his attendance on her.

She was ill for three years, during which time his eyelids did not

close, nor was the girdle of his dress unloosed; and she took none of

the soups and medicines prepared for her till he had tasted them. This

benevolence and filial affection was heard of throughout the empire.

Wên received direction to go and arrange the imperial sacrifices, and

requested his mother to accompany him to the royal domains. Morning

and evening he visited her in her own apartments, and handed her the

fragrant dishes. If the provisions had lost their flavour, he was

vexed; and when tasting the medicines he commanded perfect silence. The

live-long night his girdle was not loosed, nor for three years were

his eyelids closed. By as much as his animal spirits were exhausted,

by so much the more did his heart become fixed on the subject of its

affection; and for a long time his thoughts were not distracted. Such

filial love and virtue so moved upon Heaven’s kind regard, that it

wrought upon his father to confer the throne upon him as his patrimony.

No. III

Gnawing her Finger pained his Heart

During the Chou dynasty there lived a lad named Tsêng Ts‘an, a disciple

of Confucius, who served his mother very dutifully. Tsêng was in the

habit of going to the hills to collect faggots; and once, while he was

thus absent, many guests came to his house, towards whom his mother was

at a loss to know how to act. She, while expecting her son, who delayed

his return, began to gnaw her fingers. Tsêng suddenly felt a pain in

his heart, and took up his bundle of faggots in order to return home;

and when he saw his mother, he kneeled and begged to know what was the

cause of her anxiety. She replied: “There have been some guests here

who came from a great distance, and I bit my finger in order to arouse

you to return to me.”

The faculties of mind and body in both mother and son sprang originally

from the same source, and are alike; but in common men this connection

is broken and interrupted, and they are dull and stupid. Those sages

whose nature is heavenly differ from the rest of mankind; and virtue,

as in a breath, permeates their whole souls. At a certain time, when

Tsêng was absent to collect faggots, visitors came and knocked at his

door in great haste; and as there was no man at home ready to receive

them, his mother was much grieved. He had entered the dense fog on the

hills and did not know where he was, when his mother leaned against the

door-post and gnawed her fingers as if she would go in quest of him.

Her son in the hills is suddenly seized with a pain in his heart, and

quickly takes up his bundle of faggots to return; although distant,

he sympathises with his mother’s grief and complaint. The hearts of

mother and son are mutually affected, one influencing the other, in the

same manner as the amber draws small straws and the loadstone attracts

the slender needle. From the remotest period sages have been able to

control their dispositions, and in the deepest silence have revolved

their actions as in a breath. The moving influence that such minds have

on each other the generality of men cannot understand. The devotedness

with which they serve their parents and the respect with which they

cherish them—who can comprehend.

No. IV

Clad in a Single Garment, he was obedient to his Mother

During the Chou dynasty lived Min Sun, a disciple of Confucius, who in

early life lost his mother. His father subsequently married another

wife, who bore him two children, but disliked Sun. In winter she

clothed him in garments made of rushes, while her own children wore

cotton clothes. Min was employed in driving his father’s chariot,

and his body was so cold that the reins dropped from his hands, for

which carelessness his father chastised him; yet he did not vindicate

himself. When his father knew the circumstances, he determined to

divorce his second wife; but Sun said, “Whilst mother remains, one

son is cold; if mother departs, three sons will be destitute.” The

father desisted from his purpose; and after this the mother was led to

repentance, and became a good and virtuous parent.

The filial piety of the renowned Shun influenced Heaven, whilst that of

Min renovated mankind. If Heaven be influenced, all below it will be

transformed; if men be renovated, from them will spring a power able

to cause their families to become good. In all ages men have exhibited

a great love for their wives; but dutiful children have often met with

unkindness. Min carefully concealed all his grievances, and refused to

indulge in any complaint; even while suffering severely from cold and

hunger, he maintained his affection unabated. During the long period

which he endured this oppressive treatment, his good disposition became

manifest; and by his own conduct he was able to maintain the harmony

of the family unimpaired. His father and mother were influenced by his

filial devotion; and his brothers joined in extolling his virtues.

All his friends and acquaintances, with united voice, celebrated his

merits; and the men of his native village joyfully combined to spread

the fame of his actions. The memory of his agreeable countenance and

pleasing manners was perpetuated to the remotest ages; and his example

was in many respects like that of Shun, whose parents were equally

perverse.

No. V

He carried Rice for his Parents

In the Chou dynasty lived Chung Yu, also a disciple of Confucius, who,

because his family was poor, usually ate herbs and coarse pulse; and

he also went more than a hundred li to procure rice for his parents.

Afterwards, when they were dead, he went south to the country of Ch‘u,

where he was made commander of a hundred companies of chariots. There

he became rich, storing up grain in myriads of measures, reclining

upon cushions, and eating food served to him in numerous dishes; but,

sighing, he said: “Although I should now desire to eat coarse herbs and

bring rice for my parents, it cannot be!”

“Alas!” said Chung Yu, “although I was a scholar, yet my parents were

poor; and how was I to nourish them?” Exhausted he travelled the long

road and cheerfully brought rice for his parents. Pleasantly he endured

the toil, and exerted his utmost strength without any commendation.

At that time his lot in life was hard and unfortunate, and he little

expected the official honours he afterwards enjoyed. But when his

parents were dead, and he had become rich and honourable, enjoying

all the luxuries of life, then he was unhappy and discontented; not

cheerful as in the days of his poverty, nor happy as when he ministered

to his parents’ wants.

No. VI

With Sports and Embroidered Robes he amused his Parents

In the Chou dynasty there flourished Lao Lai Tzŭ, who was very obedient

and reverent towards his parents, manifesting his dutifulness by

exerting himself to provide them with every delicacy. Although upwards

of seventy years of age, he declared that he was not yet too old, and,

dressed in gaudy-coloured garments, would frisk and cut capers like a

child in front of his parents. He would also take up buckets of water

and try to carry them into the house; but, feigning to slip, would fall

to the ground, wailing and crying like a child; and all these things he

did in order to divert his parents.

In the country of Ch‘u lived Lao Lai Tzŭ, who, when so old that he had

lost nearly all his teeth, made every effort to rejoice and comfort his

parents, constantly endeavouring to gladden their hearts. At times he

imitated the playfulness of a little child, and arraying himself in

gaudy and variegated clothes, amused them by his strutting and gambols.

He would likewise purposely fall on the ground, kicking and wailing

to the utmost of his power. His mother was delighted, and manifested

her joy in her countenance. Thus did Lai forget his age in order to

rejoice the hearts of his parents; and affection, harmony, and joy

prevailed among the family. If this ardent love for his parents had

been insincere and constrained, how could it be referred to as worthy

of imitation?

No. VII

With Deer’s Milk he supplied his Parents

In the time of the Chou dynasty lived Yen, who possessed a very filial

disposition. His father and mother were aged, and both were afflicted

with sore eyes, to cure which they desired to have some deer’s milk.

Yen concealed himself in the skin of a deer, and went deep into the

forests, among the herds of deer, to obtain some of their milk for his

parents. While amongst the trees the hunters saw him, and were about

to shoot at him with their arrows, when Yen disclosed to them his true

character and related the history of his family, with the reasons for

his conduct.

Do his parents desire some milk from the deer? He is not deterred by

the obstacles in the way of procuring it; but clothing himself in a

hairy garment, he goes carefully seeking for it among the multitudes

of wild beasts. He closely imitated the cry, yew, yew, of the fawns,

watching for the tracks of the herds. By this mode he obtained the

sweet secretion; he also surprised the hunters whom he met in the deep

and lonely forest.

No. VIII

He sold himself to bury his Father

During the Han dynasty lived Tung Yung, whose family was so very poor

that when his father died, he was obliged to sell himself in order to

procure money to bury his remains. After this he went to another place

to gain the means of redeeming himself; and on his way he met a lady

who desired to become his wife, and go with him to his master’s house.

She went with Tung, and wove three hundred pieces of silk, which being

completed in two months, they returned home; and on the way, having

reached the shade of the cassia-tree where they met before, the lady

bid him adieu and vanished from his sight.

Tung could not endure to behold his father’s bones lying exposed, but

had not sufficient means to bury them. He saw that his household goods

were not sufficient, and he said: “This little body of mine, what is

the use of it? If I sell it, I can redeem it again, and thus bury

my father, who will be saved from dishonour.” His filial piety moved

Heaven to direct a female spirit in human form to come and help him in

fulfilling his engagement; she wove three hundred pieces of silk, and

thus procured the redemption of a man of truly filial heart.

No. IX

He hired himself out as a Labourer to support his Mother

In the time of the Han dynasty lived Chiang Ko, who, when young, lost

his father, and afterwards lived alone with his mother. Times of

trouble arising, which caused them much distress, he took his mother

on his back, and fled. On the way he many times met with companies of

robbers, who would have compelled him to go with them and become a

bandit, but Chiang entreated them with tears to spare him, saying that

he had his aged mother with him; and the robbers could not bear to

kill him. Altering his course, he came into the district of Hsia-p‘ei,

extremely impoverished and reduced, where he hired himself out and

supported his mother; and such was his diligence that he was able to

supply her with whatever she personally required.

Passing over the hills and wading through the streams, he carried his

mother with much difficulty. It was during a year of famine, when

all the inhabitants of the land were in confusion from the scarcity

of food, and engagements were frequent between the soldiers and the

bandits, and signal fires were lighted on the high hills. Chiang was

fearful lest the robbers should meet him on the road and plunder him;

and they did seize him, regardless of his cries and tears, and were

about to rob him; but when they knew of his filial piety and affection

for his mother, they permitted him to proceed. While journeying, he was

too poor to procure any food beyond the bare necessaries of life; and

because he could not provide comforts and delicacies for his mother,

he was grieved as if it had been his fault. He went and hired himself

for labour; with the greatest diligence he adhered to his purpose to

maintain his mother; and soon the stranger obtained an abundance of

food and clothing. This success caused his mother to rejoice, and they

were both delighted, she forgetting her former hardships in the joy

that filled her breast.

No. X

He fanned the Pillow and warmed the Bedclothes

In the Han dynasty lived Huang Hsiang, who when only nine years old

lost his mother, whom he loved so ardently and remembered so well that

all the villagers praised his filial duty. He was employed in the

severest toil, and served his father with entire obedience. In summer,

when the weather was warm, he fanned and cooled his father’s pillow

and bed; and in winter, when it was cold, he warmed the bed-clothes

with his body. The magistrate sent him an honorary banner, as a mark of

distinction.

When the heat of summer made it difficult to sleep quietly, the lad

knew what would be for the comfort of his venerated parent. Taking a

fan, he slowly waved it about the silken curtains, and the cool air,

entering, enveloped and filled the pillows and bed. In winter, when

the snow threatened to crush in the roof and the fierce wind shook the

fences, and the cold penetrated to the bones, making it hazardous to

unloose the girdle, then Hsiang warmed his father’s bed that he might

not fear, because of the cold, to enter the “place of dreams.”

No. XI

The Gushing Fountain and the Frisking Carp

In the Han dynasty lived Chiang Shih, who served his mother

with perfect obedience; and his wife P‘ang also fulfilled her

mother-in-law’s commands without the least reluctance. The old lady

loved to drink of the water from the river six or seven li away from

her cottage, and P‘ang used to go to draw it and hand it to her.

She was also fond of carp, and when it was obtained, deeming herself

unable to consume alone what her children with great toil and trouble

continually prepared for her, usually invited some of the neighbours

to feast with her. By the side of the cottage there suddenly gushed a

fountain, the taste of whose waters was like that of the river, and

it also produced two living fishes daily. These were taken out and

prepared by Chiang Shih for his mother.

The fish from the river were fresh and delicious, and the water was

sweet; the mother of Chiang Shih wished to taste of both daily. Her

son went to purchase the fish and her daughter-in-law to bring the

water; as constantly as the revolution of morning and evening did they

exert themselves in this arduous labour. Having obtained the fish and

water, her countenance brightened, and, laughing, she invited in one

of the neighbours to rejoice and partake of them with her. Sitting

opposite at the table, together they ate them, she foolishly not even

regarding, but totally forgetting, her son and daughter, who with so

much trouble had prepared them for her. Heaven took pity on these two

filial children, and employed its divine power to assist them, sending

a spirit to strike the earth with an axe which caused a perennial

spring to bubble forth. The taste of the water from the fountain was

like that from the river, and two fish continually sported about in

it, which henceforth Chiang Shih took out for their sustenance, nor

was there any fear of the supply failing. To procure the fish now no

money was needed, to obtain the water no long and weary walk was to

be taken. It was as if the productions of this river and of the water

were transferred into the midst of the cottage; and Chiang Shih could

support his family with ease for many years.

No. XII

He carved Wood and served his Parents

During the Han dynasty lived Ting Lan, whose parents both died when he

was young, before he could obey and support them; and he reflected that

for all the trouble and anxiety he had caused them, no recompense had

yet been given. He then carved wooden images of his parents, and served

them as if they had been alive. For a long time his wife would not

reverence them; and one day, taking a bodkin, she pricked their fingers

in derision. Blood flowed immediately from the wound; and seeing Ting

coming, the images wept. He inquired into the circumstances, and

forthwith divorced his wife.

He remembers his parents, but cannot see them; so he carves wood to

represent their persons. He believes that their spirits are now the

same as when they were alive, and his quietless heart trusts that

their spirits have entered the carved images. He cannot rest until

he has made their statues, so strong is his desire to nourish and

reverence them. He now reveres them, although dead, as if they were

alive; and hopes they will condescend to dwell in his ancestral hall.

No. XIII

For his Mother’s Sake he would bury his Child

In the days of the Han dynasty lived Kuo Chü, who was very poor. He had

one child three years old; and such was his poverty that his mother

usually divided her portion of food with this little one. Kuo says to

his wife: “We are so poor that our mother cannot be supported, for the

child divides with her the portion of food that belongs to her. Why

not bury this child? Another child may be born to us, but a mother,

once gone, will never return.” His wife did not venture to object to

the proposal, and Kuo immediately digs a hole about three cubits deep,

when suddenly he lights upon a pot of gold, and on the metal reads the

following inscription: “Heaven bestows this treasure upon Kuo Chü, the

dutiful son; the magistrate may not seize it, nor shall the neighbours

take it from him.”

What a foolish action, that the sage Kuo should be willing to bury his

own child! Fearing lest his mother should not have enough to eat, he

is willing to resign his child to death; but when it is dead, what

relief will there be for the grief of its affectionate grandmother?

When a number of cares come at some future time, who then will be able

to disperse them if the child is dead? But at this time the reflection

that his mother would be in want filled his breast with grief, and

he had no time to think of the future when he would be childless.

Heaven having given him a dutiful mind, caused him to take a light hoe

for digging the earth. Together Kuo and his wife went, sorrowing and

distressed, by the way, until they came to a very hilly place, where

they stopped. Having dug into the ground, suddenly a gleam of light

shot forth, and the pot of yellow gold which Heaven had deposited there

was seen. Taking it up, they clasped their child with ecstasy in their

arms and returned home; for now they had sufficient to support their

whole family in plenty.

No. XIV

He seized the Tiger and saved his Father

In the Han dynasty lived Yang Hsiang, a lad of fourteen, who was in the

habit of following his father to the fields to cut grain. Once a tiger

seized his father, and was slowly carrying him off, when Yang, anxious

for his father and forgetting himself, although he had no iron weapon

in his hand, rushed forward and seized the tiger by the neck. The beast

let the prey fall from his teeth, and fled, and Yang’s father was thus

saved from injury and death.

A tiger suddenly appears in the borders of the field, and seizes the

man as lightly as he catches a sheep, and drags him off. Yang Hsiang,

seeing the sudden peril of his father, was vexed that he had no weapon

with an iron head; but being strongly excited and his feelings roused,

he ran forward in the path, crying with a loud voice, and grasped the

tiger by the neck. The frightened animal fled, nor stopped in its rapid

course until it reached the high hills. Yang then, in a gentle manner,

raised his father up and led him home, endeavouring to soothe his

mind and dispel his fears, and also presented him the golden winecup.

Among the great number of sages whose reputations are famous, how few

of them have been devoted and filial at the hazard of their lives!

But this lad, quite young and fair, as soon as he saw his father’s

danger, risked his own life; surely his fame will spread throughout the

country. We have heard of the lady T‘i Ying, who saved her father from

banishment, and of young Chu O, who lost her life in trying to rescue

her father from drowning; and I think that Yang Hsiang will form a trio

with them, and the three be celebrated in the same ode.

No. XV

He collected Mulberries to support his Mother

During the Han dynasty lived Ts‘ai Shun, whose father died when he was

young, and who served his mother very dutifully. It happened that,

during the troubles of the time, when Wang Mang was plotting to usurp

the throne, there were years of scarcity, in which he could not procure

food, and Ts‘ai was compelled to gather mulberries, which he assorted,

putting them into two vessels. The red-eyebrowed robber[5] saw him, and

inquired why he did thus. Ts‘ai replied: “The black and ripe berries I

give to my mother, the yellow and unripe ones I eat myself.” The bandit

admired his filial affection, and rewarded him with three measures of

white rice and the leg of an ox.

Anxious and fearful, he seeks for food; untiring in his toil, he takes

up his baskets and penetrates the thickets of the distant forests,

where he finds many mulberry-trees. His hunger now has something

to satisfy its cravings; he also remembers his mother, and that he

must carry some to her. The ripe and unripe berries he does not put

together, but divides them, so that mother and son can each have their

proper portion. The chieftain heard of his conduct, and highly praised

him, conferring a gift upon him, and speaking of his filial piety to

all around. Taking up his rice and flesh, Ts‘ai returned home to his

mother with the food; and in their joy they even forgot that the year

was one of dearth.

No. XVI

He laid up the Oranges for his Mother

Lu Chi, a lad six years old, who lived in the time of Han and in the

district of Kinkiang, once met the celebrated general Yüan Shu, who

gave him a few oranges. Two of them the lad put in his bosom, and when

turning to thank the giver, they fell out on the ground. When the

general saw this, he said: “Why does my young friend, who is now a

guest, put the fruit away in his bosom?” The youth, bowing, replied:

“My mother is very fond of oranges, and I wished, when I returned home,

to present them to her.” At this answer Yüan was much astonished.

On account of his love for his parent, he would not at first taste the

present of fruit, but put into his sleeve to carry home the fragrant

and luscious gift. I think that when he saw his mother, her pleasant

countenance must have brightened, for the fruit filled his bosom and

delighted all who came near him. Lu, although so young, had the true

heavenly disposition; even in the small matter of an orange he did not

forget his parent’s wishes. Many children are perhaps like this boy,

and those who requite their parents for the care bestowed upon them, we

hope, are not few.

No. XVII

On hearing the Thunder he wept at the Tomb

In the country of Wei lived Wang P‘ou, a very dutiful child, whose

mother, when alive, was much afraid of thunder. After her death

her grave was dug in the hilly forest; and whenever it blew and

rained furiously, and Wang heard the sound of the chariot of the

Thunder-goddess rolling along, he hastened immediately to the grave,

and, reverently kneeling, besought her with tears, saying: “I am here,

dear mother; do not be alarmed.” And afterwards, whenever he read

in The Book of Odes this sentence, “Children should have deep and

ardent affection for their parents, who have endured so much anxiety in

nourishing them,” the tears flowed abundantly at the recollection of

his mother.

Suddenly the black clouds arise from the wilderness, whirled by the

wind; he hears the distant mutter of thunder from the southern hills.

Heedless of the rain, hastily he speeds over the rugged path leading

to the tomb, and as he goes round the grave his tones of grief and

entreaty are heard. The roaring of the dreadful thunder affrights the

ears of men, one clap following another in quick succession. If his

kind mother, when alive, always dreaded the voice of Heaven’s majesty,

how much more will she now, when lying alone in the depths of the wild

forest! If P‘ou was with his mother, he knew she would be comforted;

and he thinks that if in the green hills she has a companion, she will

not be terrified. Afterwards, being successful, he refused to take the

duties of an officer under the Emperor Ssŭ-ma, because he wished to go

frequently to visit the grave of his parent. And when he was going and

returning from it, he would weep at the recollection of his mother, and

ask himself: “If I have not yet recompensed the care and trouble my

mother endured for me, what more can I do?” And to this day, whenever

scholars read the pages of the Liu O, they remember how tears bedewed

the cheeks of Wang P‘ou.

No. XVIII

He wept to the Bamboos, and Shoots sprang up

Mêng Tsung, who lived in the Chin dynasty, lost his father when young.

His mother was very ill, and one winter’s day she longed to taste a

soup made of bamboo shoots, but Mêng could not procure any. At last he

went into the bamboo grove, and, clasping the bamboos with his hands,

wept bitterly. His filial love moved Nature, and the ground slowly

opened, sending forth several shoots, which he gathered and carried

home. He made a soup of them, which his mother tasted, and immediately

recovered from her malady.

In winter, when the forests are unsightly and bare, and the bamboos

sombre and gloomy, for plants to send forth their branches is

surprising and unexpected. But it is impossible to root out the true

filial nature from men who have it, although senseless and ignorant

people, not understanding its power, ridicule them, calling them mad.

The young Mêng Tsung dutifully served his mother, and morning and

evening waited on her to receive her commands. His mother was ill, and

desired the delicacy of a soup made from bamboo shoots; but in dreary

winter, Nature still concealed her fruits awaited. With anxious haste

he goes to the cheerless forest, which he enters, seeking for them;

but not finding the shoots, he entreats the bamboos with tears. One

petition from his inmost heart ascended to the threshold of heaven,

and the deities were delighted, laughing with pleasure. A miracle is

wrought, the ordinary course of nature is reversed, and suddenly the

pearly shoots appear in the forest.

No. XIX

He slept on Ice to procure Carp

During the Chin dynasty lived Wang Hsiang, who early lost his mother,

and whose stepmother Chu had no affection for him. His father also,

hearing many evil reports against him, in course of time ceased to

regard him with kindness. His mother was in the habit of eating fresh

fish at her meals, but winter coming, the ice bound up the rivers. Wang

unloosed his clothes, and went to sleep on the ice in order to seek

them; when suddenly the ice opened of itself, and two carp leapt out,

which he took up and carried to his mother. The villagers, hearing of

the affair, were surprised, and admired one whose filial duty was the

cause of such an unusual event.

The river is firmly bound up by ice, and the fish are hidden in their

deep retreats. Perturbed and anxious, Wang goes out to seek the fish,

apparently forgetting that it was winter. His resolution is fixed, and

although it is at the risk of his life, he will go. He was not dismayed

at the coldness of the snow, nor terrified at the fierceness of the

winds. Even the wicked spirits were deterred from injuring him, and

dared not molest him. If metals and stones can be opened, shall ice be

considered too difficult to cleave? The frisking fish came up on the

surface of the water, obedient to the hand of him who would take them

out. A thousand ages cannot efface the remembrance of the crack in the

ice, nor obliterate the fragrant traces of so worthy a deed.

No. XX

Wu Mêng fed the Mosquitoes

Wu Mêng, a lad eight years of age, who lived in the Chin dynasty, was

very dutiful to his parents. They were so poor that they could not

afford to furnish their beds with mosquito-curtains; and every summer

night myriads of mosquitoes attacked them without restraint, feasting

upon their flesh and blood. Although there were so many, yet Wu would

not drive them away from himself, lest they should go to his parents

and annoy them. Such was his filial affection!

The buzzing of the mosquitoes sounds like ying, ying, and their

united hum is almost equal to thunder. His tired parents are reclining

on their bed, their countenances already sunk in slumber. Legions of

mosquitoes fiercely attack them, alternately retreating and advancing.

The insects disturb the dreaming sleepers, and with annoyance they

toss from side to side. Wu sees them sucking his parents’ blood,

which causes his heart to grieve; his flesh, he thinks, can be easily

pierced, but that of his parents is hard to penetrate. Lying on the

bed, he threw off his clothes, and soon feeling the pain of their

attacks, he cried: “I have no dread of you, nor have you any reason to

fear me; although I have a fan, I will not use it, nor will I strike

you with my hand. I will lie very quietly, and let you gorge to the

full.”

No. XXI

This story, commemorating Yü Ch‘ien-lou of the southern Ch‘i dynasty,

is best left out.

No. XXII

The same applies to this story, commemorating the Lady T‘ang of the

T‘ang dynasty.

No. XXIII

He resigned Office to seek his Mother

In the Sung dynasty lived Chu Shou-ch‘ang, whose mother, Liu, when he

was seven years of age, left the family because she was hated by his

father’s wife; and mother and son did not see each other for about

fifty years. It was during the reign of Shên Tsung that Chu resigned

his official station and went into the Ch‘in country, and there made an

engagement with his family “that he would not return until he had found

his mother.” He then travelled into T‘ung-chou, where he discovered his

mother, who at that time was over seventy years of age.

Thus Chu exclaimed: “I have a mother; but, alas! separated, we abide in

different villages. It was not the free will of my mother which led

her thus to forsake her son, but the envious mistress who compelled her

to go. Without a mother, on whom shall I rely? to whom shall I pour out

my sorrows and cares? Now I am grown older and have become an officer,

but as yet I have been unable to return the kindness of my parent. In

what place, among all the countries under heaven, does she live? I am

determined to resign my office and seek her abode, not deterred from

the trouble of the search. To effect it, I will part from my family and

no longer be a companion with them; I will not return till I find my

mother, and they need not await in expectation of me.” Heaven directed

his way, and he came into T‘ung-chou, where she resided. When the

mother and the son met each other, joy and grief arose together—joy

for the meeting after fifty years, sorrow that they had been so long

apart. But now, in one hour, all their long-accumulated griefs were

laid aside, and joy and gladness filled their hearts. Chu possesses the

true heavenly disposition, and honours and riches cannot destroy his

affection for his mother.

No. XXIV

He watched by his Mother’s Bedside

In the Yüan-yu period of the Sung dynasty, Huang T‘ing-chien filled the

office of prefect. He was of a very filial disposition, and although

honourable and renowned, yet he received his mother’s commands with the

utmost deference. When his mother was seized with illness, he watched

her for a whole year without leaving her bedside or even taking off his

clothes; and at her death he mourned so bitterly that he himself fell

ill and nearly lost his life.

Well-written poetry flows along like rills meandering among the hills

and valleys. This instance of a dutiful heart has not as yet been

brought into much notice. For a whole year he tended his parent in

her illness; and both she who dwelt in the curtained room (i.e. his

mother) and he who remained in the hall (i.e. his father) strove to

express the merits of their son. It would be difficult to find another

child who would have done so—all would be dilatory and unwilling; and

where shall we meet another who would undergo such drudgery himself

with keenness and pleasure? Although raised to high office, he does

not hesitate to perform the most troublesome and minute duties, for he

loves his parents; how then can we suppose that he will change from

what he was when young and unhonoured?

Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.

Practical Reading

Mourning for parents requires deep grief, proper ritual observance, and a three-year period of remembrance. The outward forms described in the text belong to ancient Chinese ritual, but the underlying principle is universal: grief needs time, structure, and social recognition to be healed.

In modern contexts, the three-year period may not be literally observed, but the principle of extended mourning deserves respect. Rushing grief—pretending to be fine before you are ready—is not filial to the memory of your parents. Allowing yourself and others the full arc of remembrance is itself a final act of respect.

FOOTNOTES:

[5] That is, the usurper Wang Mang himself.