Chapter XIII: Fables and Proverbial Lore (4)

“A certain form of spirit-rapping is practised among the officials and literary classes of China. A spirit is sometimes made to appear, to communicate by writing revelations about the future, and questions are answered as regards the lucky or unlucky result of intended transactions, about success at impending examinations, about progeny to be expected, and so forth. The pencil to be used by the spirit must be made from the twig of a peach-tree. But this twig should be cut off a branch pointing towards the East, and before cutting the twig the following magic formula consisting of four lines (with four syllables each) has to be pronounced: ‘Magic pencil most efficacious, daily possessing subtle strength, now I take thee, to reveal clearly everything.’ [93] After the recitation of this formula, a compound character is to be carved into the back of the tree. This character is composed of two radicals, of which the upper one signifies water from clouds; the lower one means demon, which indicates that the spirit to be conjured up resides in the clouds. The other characters [94] ‘the mysteries of Heaven wondrously mastered’ refer to the revelations which the pencil is expected to communicate under the direction of the spirit. When this compound character has been cut into the bark of the peach-tree, a twig from one of its eastern branches, which moreover must have a little curvature at its end in the form of a hook, is cut off and fitted into a small piece of wood of about six inches length, which is intended for being laid on the palms of the medium acting at the ceremony. Every one who intends to witness it, has to purify himself by fasting and ablutions and to dress in perfectly clean clothes. In the hall where the ceremony is to take place two long tables are placed together. On the upper table sacrifices are placed, consisting of wine, fruit and confectionery, while the other table is to be covered with fine red sand, which should be rolled even and smooth by a small bamboo-roller, so that characters can be traced in the sand without difficulty. All these preparations should be finished before night-fall, when a petition to the Great Royal Bodhisattwa [95] is to be written on a card, informing this Deity that sacrifices are prepared, and requesting that one of the great spirits wandering through the clouds [96] should be sent to the house of the petitioner whose name and address is mentioned minutely to prevent any mistake. This card, together with a quantity of gold paper, is conveyed to the temple of the above-mentioned Deity, and burnt before the idol’s shrine. On returning to his own house the petitioner writes his address, as given on that card, on a slip of paper which he pastes on one of the door-posts.

“Later in the evening two or three of the company assembled go to the door, burn there some gold paper and make then an indefinite number of bows and prostrations, receiving as it were the spirit on entering the house. Having conducted him into the hall, an arm-chair is moved to the table whilst incense and candles are lighted. At the same time the medium approaches, the handle of the magic pencil resting on the palms of both hands, but so that the end of the twig touches the surface of the table strewn with sand. He places his out-spread hands near the head of the table and addressing the spirit with becoming reverence says: ‘Great spirit, if you have arrived, be pleased to write the character “arrived” on this table.’ Immediately the magic pencil begins to move and the required character appears legibly written in the sand, whereupon all assembled request the spirit to sit on the large arm-chair, whilst the Deity, that is supposed to have conducted him thither, is likewise politely asked to sit down on another chair. The whole company now bow and prostrate themselves before the seats of both spirits, and some pour out wine and burn gold paper. Then the medium approaches again with the magic pencil on the palms of his hands, whilst all assembled say with one voice: ‘Great spirit, what was your august surname, what your honourable name, what offices were you invested with, and under which dynasty did you live on earth?’ Immediately the magic pencil is seen moving and answers to these questions appear written in the sand. After this every one of the assembled may put a question one after the other, but each question is to be written on a slip of paper and burnt together with some gold paper. As soon as each paper is fairly consumed by the fire, the magic pencil writes down the answer to it, generally in poetical form, and each sentence is followed by the character [97] ‘I have done,’ whereupon the pencil ceases to move. Then all assembled try to read the characters aloud. If they fail to decipher them, the pencil moves again and writes the same sentence more distinctly, until it is intelligible. As soon as one of the assembly succeeds in deciphering a sentence, the magic pencil moves again and writes on the sand the two characters [98] ‘that’s it.’ When a sentence is finished in this way, the sand on the table has to be smoothed again with a bamboo-roller, and whilst this is being done the whole company address flattering speeches to the spirit, praising his poetical talents, to which the magic pencil replies by writing on the table the characters [99] ‘it’s ridiculous.’ If any one present behaves improperly, displaying a want of reverence, the spirit writes down some sentences containing a sharp rebuke. The motions of the pencil are quite extraordinary and apparently not produced by the medium on whose open palms the handle of the pencil rests, and who merely follows the spontaneous movements of the magic pencil. In this way conversation is kept up without flagging until midnight (when the male principle begins to be active). Then the spirit breaks off the conversation and addressing the whole company writes on the table: ‘Gentlemen, I am much obliged for your liberal presents, but now I must beg leave to depart.’ [100] To this all persons present reply saying: ‘Please, great spirit, stop a little longer,’ but the spirit jots down as if in a great hurry the two characters [101] ‘excuse me, I am off.’ Then all assembled say, ‘If there was any want of respect or attention, great spirit, we beseech thee forgive us this sin.’ All walk then to the house-door burning gold-paper, and there take leave of the spirit with many bows and prostrations.

“I proceed now to point out another form of spiritualism by which more especially the lower classes of Chinese society allow themselves to be blinded. There are somnambules in China, [102] and no matter whether they be real clairvoyants under the influence of animal magnetism, or merely clever impostors, they are at least in the South of China everywhere to be found, enjoying the entire confidence of the mass of the people, and holding a position very much like that of the witch at Endor who conjured up Samuel before Saul, or like those priests in the temple of Pluto and Cora at Acharaca, who used to prescribe to their patients the remedies revealed to them in their dreams; in some respects also like those oracles which were obtained at the lake Aornos, and in which those consulted called up the spirits of the dead (see Smith, Dict. of Antiquities, on Oracles). The fact is that, at least as far as I am aware, somnambulism in China is generally made subservient to necromancy. The Chinese mind is so deeply impressed with the stability of family ties, that even death is not considered as separating a man or woman from their respective families, and it is, therefore, the common belief of the people that the ancestors of each family, though living in Hades, are continually watching the interests and welfare of all their descendants that live on earth. Consequently if a family be in great distress on account of the severe illness of some one of its members, or in doubt with regard to the advisability of an intended marriage, or anxious to know if a certain site chosen for a tomb would ensure rest and peace to the soul of a deceased relative,—on each of these subjects the Chinese feel a craving desire to consult the spirits of their ancestors. Now as the Chinese well know that it is not so easy to influence those spirits and to induce them to submit to consultations and cross-examinations, there is a class of people, chiefly women, who make it their profession to conjure up spirits from the dead, and to act as the mediums in the consultations to be held with them. These women are called shang-pʻo in Canton city, whilst in other parts of the province they are usually known by the name of sin-pʻo. [103] If there be any family in trouble or anxiety for some one or other of the reasons mentioned above, a somnambule is sent for. No preparations are required, no sacrifices are to be offered, except that some incense sticks are lighted and put into that niche dedicated to the spirit of the hearth, [104] which may be seen in every Chinese house in the wall over the cooking range. When the somnambule arrives at the house, she is received by the female portion of its inmates and conducted to some quiet back room. No man is allowed to be present, especially no scholar, and great care is to be taken, that no copy of the Chinese classics, among which the ‘great learning’ [105] is most dreaded by the somnambules, should be left lying about in the room. If any of these precautions are neglected the somnambule will declare it impossible to hold any conversation with the spirits. When all is ready she ascertains first the nature of the difficulty under which the family labours, and the name and sex of the ancestor whose spirit is to be conjured up. As soon as she has learned these particulars she seats herself on a low stool and crouches down on it, so that her head rests on her knees. Then she utters in a low and measured tone the following incantation:—

‘Ye sisters three—ye ladies four,
‘O! lead me now to Hades’ door!
‘What would ye do in Hades? Speak!
‘My kindred only would I seek—
‘My kindred seek, one word to say.
‘Then quickly lead me back, I humbly pray.’

“This incantation she repeats three times, and soon after she has spoken it for the third time a sudden change seems to come over her body. Her arms drop down, her limbs are one after the other seized by a sort of torpor, convulsions shake her all over, and cold sweat covers her face and temples. At last she seems fast asleep and now questions may be put to her. ‘What do you see?’ she may be asked. ‘I see nothing,’ is the answer, ‘it is all dark and chilly.’ After a while she is again asked, ‘what do you see now?’ ‘Now,’ she replies, ‘now it is lighter; yes, at a distance I see pagodas and towers and palaces and houses.’ ‘Do you see any human being?’ ‘No, I cannot see distinctly; yes, now I see them, there are men and women with pale sallow complexions, and one approaches me, speaks to me!’ ‘How is that person dressed?’ Then the somnambule describes the dress and the whole appearance of that person, and her description coincides exactly with all that her employers can remember with regard to the peculiarities in dress and general appearance of the deceased relative whose spirit is being conjured up. The identity of the person required being thus established, questions may now be put as to the particular difficulties on account of which the family want to consult the spirit of their ancestor. This spirit, however, is not made to appear, but the somnambule pretending to see it and to be in conversation with it, acts as interpreter, and answers all questions in the name of that spirit and with an unnatural shrill voice. When the curiosity of the audience has been thus satisfied they try to awake the somnambule by shouting her name three times into her ears. Soon her body begins to tremble, one limb after another seems to shake off its torpor, the woman raises herself up, and goes through all the pantomime of a person suddenly roused from a heavy sleep, expressing most dramatically an immense surprise at finding herself in such a place and in such circumstances. Then the somnambule speedily falls into her professional swagger, asks for her wages, which, according to the means of her employers, vary from five cents to five taels or more, and departs chuckling, I imagine, over the credulity of her deluded victims.

“In conclusion I may remark that the deity to which the above given incantation is addressed, is supposed to be that popular deity which is commonly called ‘the seven sisters.’ [106] By some it is considered identical with the spirit of the Wega in Lyra, [107] by others it is identified with the spirit of the Pleiades; [108] and this latter explanation I consider to be most plausible, because the Pleiades are in Chinese colloquial called ‘the star of the seven ladies.’ [109]”

Another mode of divination employed is by means of a small image carved out of willow wood (See supra for qualities attributed to this wood). The medium is in this case also a woman. A recent writer thus describes the modus operandi: “The image is first exposed to the dew for forty-nine nights, when after the performance of certain ceremonies it is believed to have the power of speaking. The image is laid upon the stomach of the woman to whom it belongs, and she by means of it pretends to be the medium of communication between the dead and the living. She sometimes sends the image into the world of spirits to find the person about whom intelligence is sought; it then changes into an elf or sprite, and ostensibly departs on its errand. The spirit of the person enters the image, and gives the information sought after by the surviving relatives. The woman is supposed not to utter a word, the message seeming to proceed from the image. The questions are addressed to the medium, the replies appear to come from her stomach; there is probably a kind of ventriloquism employed, and the fact that the voice appears to proceed from the stomach undoubtedly assists the delusion; any way, there are scores and scores of these mediums implicitly believed in, and widows who desire to communicate with their deceased husbands, or people who desire any information about a future state, invariably resort to their aid.” In Kwang-hsi again there are wizards who use a magic water called ku-tu. [110] They take this medicine and smear it on a grain of rice, which they throw away. The natives gravely believe that if any one is unfortunate enough to touch this grain of rice, he at once grows ill; his stomach swells, and continues to do so for a month or so until he at length bursts and out gush, not bowels, but unboiled rice. If the ku-tu is smeared on straw, the stomach of the person touching it, in like manner, becomes full of straw!

Mesmerism also has its Chinese votaries. A practice somewhat similar to our mesmerism and used to gain money by exhibitions on the 5th of the 8th moon, is very common in Canton. The performer reads with the person operated on certain incantations, chou, [111] whereupon the patient falls into a mesmeric sleep. During this sleep, he is able, though never taught the exercise, to go through all sorts of tricks of fence—the native explanation being that the patients’ soul having departed from the body, the spirit of a deceased fencing-master occupies the empty tenement.

Divination by Virgilian, Homeric or Biblical Lots, in which the book being opened at random the sense of the words covered by the thumb is held to be prophetic, finds an exact counterpart in a Chinese practice. The classical works (an odd coincidence, as the two most celebrated of Western classics give their names to the Sortes Homericæ and Sortes Virgilianæ) [112] are chiefly availed of for this purpose; but the Chinese pay more attention to the lucky or unlucky meaning of the particular characters touched than to the sense of the sentence in which they occur. Any one even but slightly acquainted with the written character of the language will easily conceive the vast field it presents for such purposes. Thus nu, [113] a woman, enters into the composition of a large member of characters having an evil signification, and its presence in the word touched is therefore unlucky. The literary section of the community rather discourage frivolous appeals to such divinations, but are not above being guided by them in affairs which they deem important.

I have already referred to the omens deduced from bamboo slips selected or shaken out at random from a bamboo box. Fortune-tellers and joss-house keepers divine future events for their credulous clients in a somewhat similar way. A number of papers are prepared, marked with characters the same as those on the bamboo slips, but also having short sentences added indicative of good or ill luck. A slip being thrown out, the paper containing its character is referred to, and the sentence inscribed on it is accepted as the answer. Street fortune-tellers frequently train birds to select one or more from a heap of papers, each marked with a single ominous character. The fortune-teller then proceeds to explain the prophetic meaning hidden in the character thus chosen. Or, if he does not possess a trained bird, the client himself picks out a paper for similar interpretation. A very popular form of domestic divination is that already noted as availed of at the new year—going out into the street and accepting the first words heard as an omen.

Chiromancy or Divination by Palmistry has its votaries in China as in Europe, the predictions of our English gypsies being arrived at in very nearly the same way. The lines in the palm of the hand known as the “line of life or longevity,” “line of fortune,” “line of the stomach,” bear similar names in the vocabulary of native chiromancers, the same line both in China and England being referred to as that of longevity. A native account says: “The lines indicate whether a man be spendthrift or the reverse; whether he will be lucky, wealthy, and prosperous, or attain high position; whether he will have children, their sex, and whether or not they will survive; and finally whether he will have more than one wife.” The skin peeling from the palm of the hand (a common occurrence when a person unused to manual labour performs work which abrades or blisters the palms) is looked upon as an unlucky omen. The evil omen attached to white specks on the finger nails has been already noticed; but there does not appear to exist any practice of divination by this means such as was formerly practised in England under the name of Onychomancy or Onymancy. [114] Physiognomy is however much believed in by the Chinese, and auguries from the countenance—a form of divination which we all more or less unconsciously adopt, as witness such phrases as “he looks born to be hanged,” &c.—are frequently drawn and believed in. The Chinese have a quaint way of dividing off the facial ages. At 30 years a man is said to have arrived at the epoch of the eyebrows; at 36 at that of the eyes, and so on, at the epoch of the nose, lips, cheek, bone, chin, &c.

Finally the “Divination by a green ivie leaf” recorded by an old writer, [115] in which the health or sickness for the coming twelve months of the party practising it is divined by the green or black appearance of a leaf immersed in water for six days, is faintly paralleled by the ominous virtues attributed by the Chinese to the leaves of the juniper tree and pumelo plant. No doubt a fuller investigation than the present writer is able to institute would elucidate other points of agreement in this class of superstitions. But enough has been given to shew that the Chinese mind has for ages been subject to the same influences as obtain amongst ourselves, though happily in our case (with the exception of spiritualism) now only surviving amongst the lowest classes of the community.

VI.—SUPERSTITIONS AS TO VARIOUS SUBJECTS.

There are in China a large number of generally believed Superstitions which it is difficult to class under any of the foregoing heads. The mysterious properties ascribed to the hare are peculiarly interesting. A prejudice against eating its flesh is coeval with Chinese history. In the Erh-ya [116] we find it stated that the people of Yo-yang “considered the hare to be a telluric genius so that nobody dared to hunt it,” and throughout China it has always been looked upon (especially the red variety) as a divine animal. [117] Albino hares are regarded as omens of good, and their appearance a mark of heavenly approval. In Dr. Eitel’s Handbook of Chinese Buddhism, Art. Sakchi, we read, that an unselfish hare who threw itself into the fire, to offer its flesh as food for others, was transferred by Indra to the centre of the Moon. [118] The superstition concerning hares is common to China and India. Nor, though it does not take precisely the same form, is a belief in the portentous attributes of this animal wanting at home. For a hare to cross a man’s path early in the morning is an ill omen throughout Europe. And a Highlander of the 42nd Regiment, in his printed memoirs, notices the same harbinger of evil as having crossed his own path on a day of personal disaster in Spain. [119] It is noteworthy that the Goddess Freya is represented as attended by hares, who act as train and light-bearers. The hare moreover is reputed to be the commonest disguise of a witch in all the Northern Countries of Europe. [120]

Equally as widespread as the foregoing superstition is a common belief, that drowned bodies may be discovered by throwing into the water certain objects which, it is asserted, will stop over the exact spot where the corpse may lie. The American Indians use a chip of cedar wood. In England a loaf of bread loaded with quicksilver is used, while in Ireland similar use is made of a wisp of straw, bound round with a strip of parchment on which some cabalistic words have been written by the parish priest. In Java and in some parts of China a living goat (a sheep, I believe, will do as well) is cast into the water, and its dead body will, as is believed, indicate the resting place of the drowned man. As regards running streams it is easy to account for this common superstition by natural facts, but the varied forms it assumes are interesting. Another Chinese superstition relates to the use of salt, which is thrown into the water when any one has been rescued from drowning. A few months since a correspondent wrote to a Shanghai newspaper as follows:—“Yesterday afternoon a youngster of the Chinese nationality fell into the water off a pontoon. So his relatives set to work to fish him out, which humane act being accomplished, was followed by two old women very properly pulling his ears for trying to drown himself, and giving them trouble, while another old woman threw salt into the water at the spot he had fallen in. Can any of your readers inform me what the salt-throwing meant, and whether it is a custom on such occasions to do so?” The query remained unanswered. Nor has subsequent enquiry enabled me to throw any light upon the subject. “It’s a local custom,” was the only answer I could get. But a reference to Brand gives us some very interesting facts in connection with the use of salt for the purposes of lustration. [121] Flinging salt over the left shoulder to avert threatened calamity is a well-known custom. The Greeks and Romans used it in their lustrations, and Jews and Pagans alike used it in their sacrifices as a propitiation. The Romans especially designed it as a propitiatory offering to avert the vengeance of Stygian or infernal Gods—an exact parallel to the Chinese custom. In the Isle of Man, a gift of salt is an essential element in numerous transactions. The Scotch used to, and perhaps still, put salt in the first milk taken from a cow after calving. That the Chinese should credit salt with propitiatory virtues also is therefore curious. Another item of our own household folk-lore, concerning the last piece of any edible left on a dish, is purely Chinese. While our goodwives give it the name of the “bachelor’s bit,” the Chinese call it the “poison piece,”—not because it is in itself poisonous, but because he who takes it may fare as badly as if he had been veritably poisoned. The Chinese think it unlucky to have the spout of a kettle, standing on the fire, turned outwards;—a belief I can only match by our superstition that it forebodes ill to cross two knives on the dinner table, being unable to trace the origin of either superstition.

I can hardly avoid in this place a notice of the singular geomantic superstitions known as Fêng-shui, regarding which Dr. Eitel has written so excellent a brochure. That learned writer answers the question “what is Fêng-shui?” in the following words: “Fêng-shui [the words themselves signify wind and water] is, as I take it, but another name for natural science.... It is simply the blind gropings of the Chinese mind after a system of natural science, which gropings, untutored by practical observation of nature, and trusting almost exclusively in the truth of alleged ancient tradition, and in the force of abstract reasoning, naturally left the Chinese mind completely in the dark.” No more accurate definition for scientific purposes could be given, and to those who feel an interest in the subject I cannot do better than recommend the perusal of his work. But for present purposes, in which the practical rather than the theoretical side of popular belief is necessarily dealt with, the reply must be framed somewhat differently. Fêng-shui, then, is a system of geomancy which determines the good or ill luck of localities as regards their occupation for purposes of building, cultivation, burial, etc., etc. By way of illustrating this interpretation the following paragraph from a Shanghai newspaper, written of course simply for “news” purposes, is apposite:—“The general excitement caused in Hangchow, in common, apparently, with the rest of the province, was some weeks ago intensified by a development of the well-known superstition of Fêng-shui. A number of people having died in a certain part of the town, enquiries began to be made as to the cause of a mortality somewhat specially localised. But instead of looking, as Westerns almost instinctively would, to the physical conditions and environments of the district, the good folks of Hangchow called in the learning of the geomancers to explain the cause of the ‘evil influence.’ These worthies were not long in pointing to a range of buildings belonging to one of the American Missions, that stood on a hill overlooking the district where the abnormal mortality had prevailed. These buildings, though not high in themselves, were yet elevated by their site above all the surrounding buildings, and thus they interrupted the benign influences of the Fêng-shui. The question then came to be, how the evil was to be remedied. The traditional mode of procedure would have been to organise a mob, raise a disturbance, and during its continuance contrive to pull down or burn the obnoxious premises. But, on the one hand, past experience of foreigners has convinced the authorities that this way of dealing with foreign property is sure to entail serious consequences; while, on the other, the satisfactory results of diplomatic action as illustrated at Peking has gradually inclined them to the suaviter-in-modo policy. Accordingly a number of the gentry were commissioned to proceed to Ningpo and put themselves in communication with the United States Consul on the subject. Arrived in Ningpo they drew up a petition to that gentleman, setting forth the fears and anxieties which were excited among the common people of Hangchow, by the disturbance of the Fêng-shui occasioned by the mission premises in question, and setting forth the willingness of the authorities to grant them a site and erect buildings on some other site to be agreed on between them and the missionaries, or to pay the missionaries a money equivalent for the surrender of their property. The missionaries, on being communicated with by Dr. Lord, signified their preference of the proposal to grant them an equally eligible site and erect suitable buildings elsewhere, in exchange for their existing property, and this arrangement is now in course of being carried out.” No better instance of the difficulties which Fêng-shui presents to foreign missionary and commercial enterprise could be adduced.

A superstitious belief in the value of human blood and portions of the body as medicinal aids seems to be common to the ignorant classes of many nations. Just two years ago, a number of lepers were reported to have made their appearance at Whampoa and its vicinity, attacking and killing healthy men, that they might drink the blood and eat the intestines of those killed, which, lepers are under the firm belief, will cure them of their loathsome disease. The native residents at Whampoa became very apprehensive about this, and exercised very great caution in their trips into the surrounding country in obedience to the time-honoured custom of worshipping at the tombs. A Chinaman, who was employed on board one of the river steamers, caught the disease, and, as was currently stated at the time, resorted to the modus operandi stated above. Female lepers, by the way, believe that they will become free from the disease if they communicate it to men willing to live with them, and as some are always to be found sufficiently dead to ordinary feeling to do so, leprosy has by this means been spread more than it would otherwise be.

The idea of cannibalism for other purposes is by no means unfamiliar to the Cantonese. When the rebels, called “patriots” by the half-informed enthusiasts of those days, held possession of the Blenheim Reach Fort, they used to drink the blood and eat the hearts of the Imps, (i.e. foreigners) whom they made prisoners. Colonel Yule, in his exhaustive work on Marco Polo (Vol. I., p. 275), devotes a lengthy note to the subject of Chinese and Tibetan cannibalism. The Arab travellers of the 9th century relate that, “In China it occurs sometimes that the governor of a province revolts from his duty to the emperor. In such a case he is slaughtered and eaten. In fact the Chinese eat the flesh of all men who are executed by the sword.” Dr. Rennie states (and I can myself confirm the assertion) that after an execution at Peking certain large pith-balls are steeped in the blood of the defunct criminal, and under the name of “blood-bread” are sold as a medicine for consumption. It is only to the blood of decapitated criminals that any such healing power is attributed. “It is asserted that the executioners of Mr. de Chappedelaine, a Romish missionary murdered in Yunnan in 1862, were seen to eat the heart of their victim, and Mr. Cooper, the well-known traveller, was told by a Bishop of the same mission, that he had seen men in Yunnan eating the heart and brains of a celebrated robber, who had been executed.” In all these cases the idea underlying this horrible act is, that by eating a portion of the victim, especially the heart, one acquires the valour with which he was endowed.

Nor do the Chinese stand alone in their silly stories respecting the use of the children’s eyes and blood for photographic purposes. I note that a recent report of the Smyrna mission alludes to a superstition amongst the Greek Christians of the Levant curiously similar. They hold that the Jewish ritual enjoins the shedding of blood at the feast of the Passover, and that the Jews annually inveigle a Christian child into their toils, fatten it up, and then open its arteries to utilize the blood. [122] This blood, it is believed, is kneaded into the unleavened bread by the priests, who afterwards distribute this devilish confectionery to their congregations, for a small pecuniary consideration. [123]

But the superstitions regarding the uses of human blood or flesh are not confined to the instances above given. It used to be believed at Canton, and perhaps now is, that the blood of an unborn infant was all effective for magical purposes. [124] It is used as a charm against husbands by a sect called 迷夫教, a set of young unmarried women, comprising a sisterhood who are sworn never to many. If forced by their parents to do so, they then employ this charm to destroy their husbands in order to remain single, and be faithful to the oaths of the sisterhood. A case is on record in which a Fokienese availed himself of this drug to influence a woman for improper purposes, and her subsequent death in child-birth was regarded as the natural result of her yielding to the horrible charm.

More wide-spread is a belief in the restorative qualities of human flesh and blood to the sick. Parents suffering from long-standing or dangerous diseases are frequently offered a decoction of medicine in which is mixed a piece of the flesh of one of their children. It is considered an act of great filial piety to cut a slice off one’s calf to mix it with medicine for a parent. The practice is still followed even to the present day. Honourable mention is often made in the Peking Gazette of such cases. It has of late been written down by the native press, particularly by the Chinese Mail. A recent issue of the Shanghai Courier and Gazette (November 1875) contained the following paragraph amongst its local items:—“Two model sons are now living at Soochow, whose mother was one day taken alarmingly ill. They were very poor; but medical assistance was urgently necessary, and so the elder brother went to implore the assistance of a celebrated doctor. He was only able, of course, to offer the great man a small fee; and the great man loftily refused to come. The poor lad threw himself on the ground before him and bumped his head till it ached, but the doctor was quite immoveable. So he went home and told his younger brother how unsuccessful he had been. The unfortunate woman was dying; what was to be done? At length the young boy hit upon an expedient. He cut a great piece of flesh out of his left arm, boiled it down to a broth, and gave it his mother to drink. It is said that she recovered.” In May 1874, a memorial in the Peking Gazette records how the Deputy Governor of Honan petitioned in reference to a dutiful daughter who cut a piece of flesh from her arm, in order to cure her father of his sickness. “In the present Holy Dynasty, filial piety rules the Empire, and this doctrine originates in the female sex. In the district of Chinyang there lived a daughter remarkable for her filial piety, whose name after her marriage, was Mrs. Wang. In the fifth year of the reign of the Emperor Hëen-fung, this young lady’s father became dangerously ill, and his filial daughter, lighting incense sticks, announced (to the gods) her desire to sacrifice her own body for her father’s sake. After this announcement, her father’s illness increasing, and his physicians being unable to cure him, this filial daughter secretly cut off a piece of flesh from her arm, and putting it into the medicine prescribed, gave it to her father who, on eating it, immediately recovered. Some time afterwards the daughter’s female attendants, perceiving the mark on her arm, questioned her as to the cause and learned from her the facts already stated. There was not a single individual of all those who heard the narrative who was not struck with amazement.” The young lady in question was shortly afterwards married, but her father dying some ten years afterwards she “pined away and died for grief.” The petition from which the above quotation is made prays the Emperor to order that a Triumphal Arch be erected to her memory, as was usual in cases when extreme filial piety had been displayed, and the petition was of course granted.

A common saying that “a selfish child will be cut while being shaved” embodies an idea not altogether unfamiliar to ourselves. But another Chinese superstition, which certainly existed in full force at one time, though I have failed to get any positive confirmation of its existence at the present day, obliges us to seek its parallel amongst other than Aryan races. A belief in weather conjuring by means of “rain stones” seems to have been introduced into China from Mongolia, and though it never took extensive root it attracted sufficient attention to induce the Emperor Shih-tsung in 1724–25, to issue an edict on the subject. It is addressed to the Mongolian Banner Corps, and says: “If I offering prayer in sincerity have yet room to fear it may please Heaven to have my prayer unanswered, it is truly intolerable that mere common people wishing for rain should at their own caprice set up altars of earth, and bring together a rabble of Hoshang and Taossŭ to conjure the spirits to gratify their wishes.” Colonel Yule, in his Marco Polo, from which (I. p. 273) I take this reference, gives some long and interesting notes on the subject. Rain stones are used by the Samoans in the Pacific, and if my memory does not deceive me, by some of the North American Indian tribes also.

A popular belief exists in Central China that the practice of gymnastics, if carried out with sufficient faithfulness, will enable the student to avoid the common lot, and pass bodily into a future state “ascending to heaven with his fleshly body.” That such a belief exists is not unlikely, and it is probably a vulgar superstition based on the more reasonable opinion that such exercises tend to extreme longevity. Another queer superstition (the adjective is not classical but expressive) relates to bridges. I have already adverted to the care taken as regards houses by placing on them charms, &c., to avert possible evil. But bridges, for some mysterious reason, have occult virtues and defects of their own. A native account says, “If bridges are not placed in proper positions such as the laws of geomancy indicate they may endanger the lives of thousands by bringing about a visitation of small-pox or sore eyes (!). They materially affect the prosperity of the neighbourhood. There is a legend that during the building of the stone bridge situated near the small eastern gate of Shanghai (陸家百橋 the ‘Loh-family bridge,’) some difficulty was found in laying the foundations. The builder thereupon vowed to Heaven the lives of two thousand children if the stones could be placed properly. The Goddess addressed, however, intimated that she would not require all their lives, but that the number in question would be attacked by small pox. This took place, and about half of those attacked died.” Stories like this circulated amongst coolies and compradores are a fair specimen of popular legendry in this connection. But why bridges should especially require such sacrifices it is difficult to say.

Amongst what may be termed domestic superstitions is one that, if a person be afflicted with a swelling, touching it three times with the hem of a woman’s garment is efficacious as a cure. If, when one is boiling a pot full of liquid, a straw be tied round the neck of the pot, it is believed that the contents will never boil over or get burned. Another piece of cook’s folk-lore relates to eggs. As everybody knows an egg suddenly plunged into boiling water will most likely break. But the Chinese cook averts this occurrence by previously describing a circle with the egg round the rim of the pot, which he believes is an infallible protection against any fracture of the shell. The Japanese, by the way, draw auguries from the noise made by boiling. Over a bright fire, a rice boiler is said to vibrate with such violence at times as to give forth a loud humming noise. If this begins faintly and grows afterwards stronger, it is said to indicate good luck; if loudly, the reverse is predicted, but in such cases it should at once be stopped by enveloping it in the under-clothing of a female (a virgin, if possible.)

A curious antidote against sickness is very commonly applied by parents at Canton to their infant children on the fifth day of the fifth month. This consists in staining their foreheads and navels with cinnebar or vermilion, leaves of the sago palm and garlic bulbs being at the same time suspended over the entrance doors to prevent the intrusion of evil spirits. A medicated cake prepared at noon of the day in question, and known as “the noon day tea” (午時茶) is also in much repute for the cure of diseases, as is also a sort of congee boiled at the same hour with five kinds of pease.

The all-pervading yang and yin principle so naturally influences the whole arcana of Chinese belief that it is not surprising to find it applied to the care of such useful contributors to the national industries as silkworms. These are said to belong to the yang or male influence and to be under the protection of a special constellation. Anything male, such as men, sunlight, &c., is congenial to them, and anything female deleterious. Hence pregnant women (development of the yin principle) are not allowed to approach them; and even the presence of a new-born child in too close proximity is thought to be deleterious.

Finally, I may note that a curious superstition obtains regarding murderers. It is believed that if the corpse of the murdered man lies with its fists closed, it is a sign that the murderer will soon be captured. If, on the contrary, the hands are extended, the omen foretells that he will for at least some time make good his escape. It is strange, by the way, that so widespread a belief as that relating to the bleeding of a corpse when touched by its murderer has not some analogy in China. At least I have failed to find any, though a not quite dissimilar superstitious idea is prevalent, that if a man has died a violent death—either by process of the law, or by the act of a murderer—and the dead man is dissatisfied, blood will come out of his mouth, eyes and nostrils on the appearance of a close relative.

VII.—GHOSTS, APPARITIONS, AND SUPERNATURAL BEINGS.

No one who has thus far followed my imperfect efforts to convey an idea of the popular beliefs of the Chinese will be surprised to find that ghosts and apparitions occupy an even greater place in their superstitious lore than is the case with ourselves. In the words of a native friend, “China is full of ghosts.” There is scarcely a popular play in which a ghost does not play a conspicuous part in aiding to right the wronged or to punish the guilty. The person to whom he appears on such occasions generally counterfeits either sleep or insensibility; but now and then while wakeful and active the actor (especially if he be the ruffian of the piece) is scared out of his senses by the apparition in the most approved melodramic style. Many popular stories turn also on the appearance of supposed ghosts, who turn out to be quite bonâ fide citizens in the flesh, and simply enforce the moral that conscience makes a coward of the wrongdoer. A story of this sort runs to the following effect, and narrates an incident stated by Mr. C. T. Gardner to have happened only some five years ago at Chinkeang. There were two partners, named Chang and Li, on one occasion returning by way of the canal from Yangchow, where they had been collecting debts. Chang saw Li standing on the edge of the boat, and the crime of pushing him into the water, and thus becoming sole possessor of the money, suggested itself. Chang, therefore, pushed Li into the canal. Next year, at the time the murder was committed, Chang fell very ill, and the ghost of Li appeared to him in a threatening form, and told him that unless he paid over the sum properly belonging to the dead man’s family, he would die. Chang promised to do so, and got well, but his health being restored he broke his promise, and still kept the money. Again, the following year, at the same time, Li’s ghost again appeared, looking still angrier. Again Chang was induced to make the promise, and this time he kept it. However, his health seemed permanently to suffer, everything went wrong, business fell off, and he determined to try and change his luck by migrating to other parts; he consequently went to Honan. What was his astonishment when he again saw Li, not now in the middle of the night by the side of the bed where he lay sick, but in broad daylight, and in the street. His terror was extreme, he rushed forward, and made a ko-tow, and said, “I have already done as you ordered me, why do you still haunt me?” To which Li replied, “I am no ghost; what do you mean?” Then Chang told him how he had twice appeared, and how his share of the money had been paid to his family. Li then said, “So, it was not an accident my falling into the river? I had neglected to pay due respect to the spirit of my father, and when I tumbled in the river, and was nearly drowned, I thought it a punishment for my impiety.”

“The spirits of the dead,” remarks Mr. Chalmers, “were perhaps known at first only as objects of superstitious fear under the name Kwei 鬼, ghosts. The top of this character is supposed to represent a human skull. It had from the first an unpleasant association, and hence it is seldom used in speaking respectfully of the dead. In the poetry it occurs only twice, once as our modern Ghost, and once as the name of a place—Ghostland.

“An interesting statement is attributed to Confucius in the Book of Rites (§ Tan-kung) that in the time of the Hea, the earliest dynasty, they did not sacrifice to the dead, but simply made for them incomplete implements of bamboo, earthenware without polish, harps unstrung, organs untuned, and bells unhung, which they called ‘bright implements’ implying that the dead are spirits (shen) and bright. There is something really beautiful in this; and the substitution of ‘bright spirits’ or ‘spiritual intelligences’ for ‘ghosts’ is an euphemism of which we feel the necessity as much as the Chinese; for who likes to speak of his relations as gone to the shades and to the fellowship of ghosts?”

One peculiarity of the Chinese belief respecting ghosts is forcibly recalled by Charles Dickens’s description of the Ghost of Christmas Past in his famous “Carol.” They are frequently seen in shapeless form, i.e. that the head will first be visible and then the feet, then the body, and so on, the various parts appearing and disappearing in swift succession. Another quaint belief is that a ghost has no chin, and to say to a Cantonese “ni mo ha-pa”—“You’ve no chin,” is equivalent to saying “You’re a Ghost.” Furthermore, the conventional white clothing which European superstition bestows on nearly all ghostly visitors is absent from the Chinese idea. A ghost in this country always appears in the dress he was accustomed to wear during life—a very Marley in fact—and conducts himself in a very ordinary way. There is indeed a refreshing absence of the fee-faw-fum element in Chinese ghostology, this eminently practical people taking a most matter-of-fact view of spirit vagaries. They agree with us however in allotting the hours of darkness to such visitors, who, as with ourselves, are compelled to disappear as the cock’s crow announces the returning dawn. The candle flame, which with us burns blue as the being from another world intrudes himself, is in China alleged to burn green—an odd reminder of the “green fear” of the Greeks. Most Chinese ghost stories turn upon some end to be accomplished by the supernatural visitor; they retail none of the sprightly friskiness attributed to ghosts in Western lands, and altogether the Chinese specimen presents, as a rule, an edifying illustration of how to do one’s work in the quietest and most straightforward manner possible. It must not, however, be imagined that they are endowed by popular belief with benevolent intentions. On the contrary they are supposed to be maliciously inclined, and the very fact that the words for “ghost” and “devil” are the same, and form a portion of the objectionable epithets applied to foreigners (Kwei-tsze in mandarin or Fan-kwai in Cantonese) demonstrates the popular belief. To see a ghost is almost always regarded as an evil omen, and a Chinaman is quite as easily scared as a European by the unwelcome sight. One thus visited is described by his pitying neighbours as “down in his luck.” As a rule, ghosts in China, it is alleged, most often appear either to intimate friends or relations, or to downright enemies. In the former case it is to request the fulfilment of some unaccomplished duty or to aid virtue in distress, in which latter case the ghost gives the weaker but upright party material aid in disposing of his antagonist. As an illustration of the first-named sort of apparition, I quote the following, recently communicated by a resident to the North China Daily News, as told him by his teacher to excuse his non-appearance for some few days:—

“It happened thus; three years ago a soldier who lived near our house was ordered to join his regiment, which was about to march against the rebels. As he was going to battle he did not wish to take his money with him, and he called on my uncle and asked him to take charge of $40, the amount of his property, until his return. My uncle accordingly took charge of the money, and the soldier joined his regiment; but he must have been killed in battle, as we have never heard from him since. The day before yesterday, my uncle, who has for some time been suffering from illness, called us to his bedside, and told us that he was about to die. The soldier, he said, had appeared to him and insisted that my uncle should immediately join him in Hades. We asked my uncle whether he had committed any fault with regard to the $40, for which we might make some atonement by punishing him in any way? He replied that the money was all right, and that we should find it in a certain drawer which he pointed out. My uncle died that day, and it was of course impossible, under such circumstances, that I could come to your Excellency’s place to study.”

Among recent stories of ghosts is one related in a native newspaper of a mandarin who met his death in the late collision between the steamers Fusing and Ocean. The unfortunate man was a passenger in the former steamer, which was sunk in the catastrophe, over 60 other people being also drowned. According to the story his ghost appeared to his wife, who was living in Soochow, streaming with water from head to foot. He told her that he had unfortunately been drowned and could therefore enjoy no more of her society. He also stated that he had sent by a certain friend of his some money for her use before he took passage in the Fusing, and that the friend would arrive shortly. The wife was left in a state of bewilderment, and did not exactly know what to make of it. A day or two afterwards the friend named actually came with the packet of dollars, his arrival being shortly followed by the intelligence of the Fusing’s disaster.