Discussion The Book of Filial Duty

[Lord_hierophantūs]

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

p. 49

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.

 

[Lord_hierophantūs]

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

p. 50

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 wine-cup. 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.

 

[Lord_hierophantūs]

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 * 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,



p. 52

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.

 

[Lord_hierophantūs]

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,

p. 53

and those who requite their parents for the care bestowed upon them, we hope, are not few.

 

[Lord_hierophantūs]

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,

p. 54

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.