An Ancient Legend of the Han River OR this story we go back to the Chou dynasty (1122-254 Be.), towards the end of. which we are introduced to a statesman named YO Po-ya, originally a native of the realm of Ch'u (the modern Hupeh and Hunan), but holding high office in the Northern state of Chin, which was situate in the north-east of Honan and the southern half of Sheasi. Chin ar\', Ch'u were then in a condition harmony, and to cement their relations Po-ya was selected ug ambassador to visit the prince of his ative realm, He was well received at Kingchow city, which was then the capital, And having been feasted and loaded with gifts, he bethought him of his ancestral graves, and of the few remaining relatives and friends of the old-home country-side, and thus elected to return by ont—a few hundred li down the Yangtse, and then up the Han river, whose course' took a more southward bend than it does now, apparently.
During his first day on the Han, the 16th of the 8th moon it was, a fierce wind sprang up, accompanied by torrents of vain, 60 that Po-ya's boat had to take shelter by a wooded hill, where it anchored for the night. But autumn storms in this region are seldom long-lasting, and soon after sundown the wind droped, the clouds rifted, and the full moon hone forth in silvery Splendour. It was lovely night, and Po-ya was a skilled musician, with the _silken-stringed harpsichord as his favourite instrument. So he ordered his lad to bring it forth, together with an incense brazier, while he himself adjusted his garments. For of old in China music was regarded as an altogether sacred and celestial thing.
In that clear moonlit night many an old recollection came to the mind of the traveller, and having tuned the strings, his fingers drew forth from them pathetic strain; when, all at once, one of the strings snapped, Now, there was nothing really. remarkable in this, for the string may have been well worn. ' But there was a saying in those times that the presence of an unsympathetic listener, when one is ex-temporising music from one's heart, may cause a string to break, And although there were the unmusical boatmen near at hand, Po-ya thought for the moment that there might be some intruder on the bank listening. So, while he went within to fetch a new string, he told his attendants to search the bank and see who was there.
"Your Highness need not trouble," said 4 voice from the hilly bank. "It'is no unsympathetf? listener that has been en-joving your music."
But the attendants went ashore as they were hidden, and soon called out: "A mere wood-cutter! Get you gone!" while the young wood-cutter protested against being driven away.
Po-ya called to his men to desist, but said: "Is it likely that on a wild hillside there should be anyone capable of appredating music?"
To which the voice replied: "As possible, Sir, as that at the foot of a wild hillside there should be a musician playing noble music."
Struck by this clever rejoinder, Po-ya said, half in sarcasm: "Then, perhaps the gentleman on shore will tell me what sort of a melody I was playing."
"Certainly, Sir," was the reply. "The poem you had in mind, and which you were rendering in musical notes, was that in which Confucius was bewailing the early death of his favourite disciple Yen Hui:
Alas, Yon Hui, so soon to die!
My hair with grief is turned to rey.
Thy frugal foys, thy humble homo— at this point your string snapped, but the fourth line is:
Shall charm the ages yet to come.
Po-ya was duly startled, Here in this sural spot was evidently a' genius in se-elusion. And he invited the young toan 'The young wood-cutter came across the plank, clad in straw cape and rain bhat, with' a hatchet stuck in his girdle, and straw sandals on his feet. He took his huge rain hat to display a' blue loth wrapped round his head; then. his frass cape, under which was' a cotton Jacket bound by a white girdle; sli off his sandals and washed his bare feet The storyteller has plied his trade in the Far East for thousands of years.
To-day he is a familiar sight to all of us who tramp along the highways and byways of China, around him a group of spellbound country people listening to his age-old legends, punctuated in their talling by the snap of his spilt bamboo wand. This is one of his de-
Uightful stories, translated into English by the late Mr. W. Arthur Cornaby and appearing in his necklace of Peachstones. at the side of the boat, and thus present ed himself as the guest of the high statesman.
With a mere rustic, as he seemed, it was hard for the dweller in courts and palaces to. resume conversation. An awkward silence followed. But at length Po-ya said curtly: "You may sit," and asked his name.
He replied that it was Chung Tzu-c!
"So you were the listener on the bank!" he exclaimed, to which the young wood cutter replied in the stock saying:
dare not presume." And for some time, with his rustic appearance filling the mind of Po-ya, conversation was still difficult.
Eventually Po-ya cross-examined Tzu-chi on the origin and history of the harpsichord, and was surprised to receive very intelligent answers. He must have studied diligently and to purpose. Nor was it a mere matter of memory. There was insight and penetration in that young acholar's mind. So Po-ya began to test him further by relating an ent anecdote. He said:
Confucius was once playing the harpsichord in his house by the -open window, when Yen Hui entered, and said with surprise that he seemed to have heard strains of bloodthirstiness in the music, At this, Confucius smiled and said: 'As I was playing, I saw a cat chase a mouse, and fearing that it might not succeed, my bloodthirstiness must have betrayed itself on the silken strings.' Now, suppose I play my instrument with certain thoughts in my mind, can you recognise those thoughts as you listen? Or was your guess on the bank a mere accident To this Tzu-chi replied: "In the Book of Odes it is written, 'Another's thoughts I can fathom,' and if you will test me, Sir, I will try and fathom your meaning. But should I guess wrongly, pray, pardon my stupidity."
Po-ya adjusted the new string, and played with mountain scenery in his mind.
"Excellent indeed!" exclaimed the other. "Your far-reaching thoughts were on the high hills." Po-ya extemporised once more with the rippling of hillside streamlets in his mind.
"Lovely!" cried the young man, "the flowing brooks are gurgling." said the storyteller, to this day ide of the archway entrance to the native village of Tzu-chi, the four words are inscribed "Green Hills, Flowing Waters" (pili)" and a Hanyang poet has sung:
"Renewed in readiness the silken string; My hearts interpreter hes come, ing stress fe een once more, ute the Totty melody, ow cee pried: mecntals borne, Rises the harmony sublime"
At length Peya threw aside all reserve, told his attendants to prepare a wine-feast, and inquired of the woodcutter saying:
"Why should you vegetate and wither in this out-of-the-way country spot, when you might, with your gifts, flourish as a notable scholar and statesman?"
Then Tzu-chi explained that his parents were both well stricken in years, with none but himself to provide for them. Indeed, they could not live without him a single day. Thus he cut wood and sold it on their behalf, and only at night had he time for study.
Po-ya's heart warmed toward the young man of 27, for that was his age. He was unmarried and hard-working because of his parents. A filial son of that sort would make a noble younger-brother, was the thought which now possessed him, and he said:
"One's acquaintances may fill the earth, but a soul-comrade, a heart's interpreter, is hard to find. ' And if T may bbe linked with you in the bonds of sworn brotherhood, it will be' a blessedness to bade Then, seeing the young man's look of astonishment, he added almost pleading-
"And if you imagine that I regard such things as riches and poverty as barriers, what manner of man do you take me to be So, spite the young man's modesty, in-conse was added to the brazier, and thus midnight, in the royally-furnished boat-chamber, the statesman in his silks and fox-furs and the wood-cutter in his mean apparel made to each other the eight obeisances* which would "wed them as veritable brothers for evermore.
The feast was now ready, and after -partaking thereof, they conversed heart to heart until the moon declined in the west. Then, as Tzu-chi could not leave his parents ta accompany Po-ya, the latter promised to be on that spot the evening of the next Midautumn Festival, the 15th of the 8th moon, a year hence. Tzu-chi said he lived at a village called Chi-hsien-tsun, but that he would be here to meet him on the river-bank without fail at the appointed time. And after Po-ya had given him two ingots of silver wherewith to aid his parents, the two soul-comrades bade each other a lingering farewell.
Time flies apace. Autumn merged in winter and spring and summer passed, but amid the Answering to the Eight Characters exchanged at a betrothal (two each for the nth, day, and hour thryen." Compare the compact of brotherhood" between Sir Philip Fulk Greville.
Dyer. who "held together without a single fam, through all the vicissitudes life" ities of the his re ass a office, no single in which Po-ya did not think. longingly of his brother. As autumn approached he petitioned his prince to allow him to return home awhile. The request was granted, and the 15th of the 8th moon found him once more at the spot where he had met the young wood-cutter.
Again, it was a lovely evening. The moonbeams come stealing through the blinds. Po-ya went out and stood on deck. There was hardly a ripple on the waters. All was sweet serenity around, But where was Tzu-chi?
Could he have forgotten, and broken his word? Nay that could hardly be. It must be that the boat was a different one from that of last year, and that there were other boats here in the anchorage.
"It was while playing my harpsichord that I discovered him," thought Po-ya. He will hear But still he came restless night. Then at dawn he put on plain garments, and with his serving-lad bearing his instrument behind him, went ashore to find Teu-chi if he could. The path led up over an indentation of the Horse-saddle Hill and forked below on the northern side, As yet no trace of a hamlet could be seen. But an old man advanced, leaning on a staff, and of him Po-ya' made enquires as to the whereabouts of Chihsien-tsun, There were two villages of that name, an upper and a lower one, the old man said. But whom was the gentleman seeking? for he (the old man) Knew everybody in these parts. And then, it transpired that the aged man was none other than Tzu-ch'i's father.
His eyes filled with tears as he sobbed rat this time my son was on the hill yonder cutting wood, and was delayed by heavy rain, Then in the even ing he met a great statesman named Yi Po-ya, who became attached to him and gave him two ingots of silver at parting. He came home next morning. He studied hard so as to be worthy of his great friend. Coming home with his maggots, or the price of them, he would read far into the night, until he fell ill, and just a hundred days ago—he—died."
At this, Po-ya's feelings overcome him completely; but at length he recovered and learnt that his brother's last wish was to be buried up on the hill where the twain had met, so that in death he might keep his promise. And so Po-ya introduced himself, and taking the' arm of the old man, supported him up the hill and beyond, where they found the grave.
A crowd soon collected from the boats when Po-ya commenced to tune his harpsichord at the grave-side. And when he essayed to sing, they thought it too good a joke, and ran off with wild neighing shouts. Thus were the two left alone with the serving-lad. And this ts the dirge that Po-ya sani I recall the fond hopes of last year, When my friend on the bank T met here; Teame back to seek him again, Lenme back to seek hier in vain!
of cold earth do I find, my sorrow-filled mind; I sing thee my last song, my last, The harpsichord's musie is past.
Then, taking a small knife from his girdle, he cut the silken strings, and lifting the instrument with both hands he put forth all his strength, and dashed it in pieces upon the stony grave. And ever after, he ministered to Tzu-ch'i's aged parents as though they were his own, "I visited that grave," said the storyteller, "and felt my eyes moisten as I read the inscription on a stone that has been renewed again and again for more than two thousand years. It is from this old story that we have gained the words heart's interpreter' (4) atid soul-comrade' (fa,) which "meg more than friend.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.