In this major undertaking David Keenan translates and contextualizes over 100 tales from the Notes from the Hut for Examining the Subtle, a collection of 1,200 tales and observations by Chi Yun, one of eighteenth century China's leading intellectuals. By illuminating neglected aspects of the interaction between popular and elite cultures in late imperial China, this study portrays the rich connection between life and letters on the eve of the Western impact.
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, told of an old monk who passed a meat market and burst into tears.
The bystanders were amazed at this and the monk said, "It is a long story. I can remember two previous lives. First I was a butcher. I died in my thirties and several individuals bound my soul and took it away. The netherworld judge reprimanded me in the strongest terms for my killing, and I was led off to be reborn and receive the punishments due me. I felt floating or lost. What I could not endure was fever.
"Suddenly it was clear and cool. I was in a pigsty. After I was weaned I would see the slops and know them to be filthy, but the fires of hunger burned. My five organs seemed to be splitting. I had to eat. I gradually came to comprehend pig speech and occasionally I questioned my fellows. Those who remembered previous lives were quite numerous. It was only that they were unable to converse with humans. Most all of them realized they would be butchered and sliced. Their frequent squeals made clear their anxiety. Their eyelashes, always full of tears, expressed their self-pity. With their heavy bodies, the heat of summer was miserable. Only complete submersion in muddy water made life more bearable, but that was a rare treat. With such sparse hair, they suffered the bitter winters. We looked on dogs and sheep as blessed beasts with their thick, soft coats.
"When it was time to be captured, I knew there was no escaping, but fled anyway in hopes of a brief delay. Once I was caught, they trampled on my head, pulled and twisted my ankles and bound my four feet so tightly that the rope cut into my bones like knives. When we were transported by boat or by cart, they just piled us one on top of another. It felt as if my ribs were about to break, my veins were bursting, and my belly was about to explode. Some of us were carried hanging from a pole, and this was even more painful than the triple cangue. Arriving at the meat market, we were thrown onto the ground. Our hearts quaked and were close to breaking. Some of us died that day, while others would remain bound for several days. This was even more difficult to bear. With butchers' knives on the left and a boiling cauldron on the right, I often began shaking uncontrollably when I wondered how painful it would be when these tools were used on my body. At other times I would look at my body and think of the future. I would wonder whose soup I would end up in after being carved and distributed. It was utterly pathetic.
"When it was time to be killed, the butcher jerked me and I fainted from fright. My body went limp. It felt as if my heart were jumping wildly from left to right and my soul were flying out the top of my head and then falling back down. When I saw the gleaming of the knife, I could not look at it directly. I just waited with my eyes closed to be slaughtered. First the butcher stuck the blade into my throat. Then he shook me and rolled me from side to side to drain my blood into a basin. The pain was indescribable. I longed to die but couldn't. All I could do was emit long screams. When the blood was gone, the knife pierced my heart. I lost my voice and slowly drifted away. It was like being drunk or dreaming. It was like when I was previously reborn After some time, I regained consciousness and saw that I had the shape of a human. The netherworld judge considered the positive merit of previous lives, allowed me to be a human, and here I am.
"Just now, when I saw this pig, I pitied its suffering. I recalled how I had once suffered in the same way. In addition, I regretted that the one holding the knife would also suffer in the future. The three thoughts combined, and so I somehow could not hold back my tears."
When the butcher heard this, he immediately threw down his knife. He changed occupations and thereafter sold vegetables.
1 In YWTTPC 21.19, SHKC ed., pp. 515-16.
48.The Hermit Ghost2
Tai Tung-yüian
3 told of a man named Sung who lived at the end of the Ming (1368-1643) era.
While prospecting for auspicious gravesites, he arrived deep in the mountains of She County
(in Anhui). With the sun setting and a storm approaching, he noticed a cave beneath a cliff. Venturing there for temporary shelter, he heard someone's voice from inside fee cave,
"There is a ghost present! You must not enter!"
Sung asked how the voice had entered.
"I am the ghost," was the reply.
Sung invited it to show itself.
"If I reveal myself to you," it replied, "Yin and Yang energies will contend. You will be afflicted with fever and chills and be distressed. Better for you to light a fire and we converse at a distance."
Asked why he resided here, instead of his grave, the ghost replied,
"I was district magistrate during the reign of the Emperor Shen-tsung
(r. 1573-1619). Detesting the material greed and pettiness of official life, I quit my post and retired to my fields. When I died, I implored Yama to spare me from rebirth in the world of men. With the rank and emoluments comparable to those I would receive in my future life, I was made an official in the netherworld. To my surprise, the greed and pettiness were just as before. Again I quit my post and returned to my grave. Residing among the other ghosts was a constant struggle, and I could not overcome my annoyance. There was nothing I could do but retire to this place. Despite cold winds, bitter rains, and unbearable loneliness, this is like paradise compared to the buffetting of official life or the traps on the path to fame and gain. Alone in these deserted mountains, you forget the succession of days and years. Who knows how many years I have avoided other ghosts? More, at least, than I have been able to avoid humans! I was delighted to be done with all the social obligations and concentrate my meditation on creation. I never expected to meet anyone again. Tomorrow morning I will move on. Do not, like some fisherman from Wu-ling, try to retrace your steps to this peach blossom spring."4
The voice was silent and the conversation ended. When asked, it would not even say its name. Sung had brought his brush and inkstone. He wrote the words GHOST HERMIT
in large characters on the mouth of the cave and returned home.
2 In YWTTPC 6,10, SHKC ed., p. 107-8.
3 Tai Chen
(1724-1777) was a philosopher and a scholar. There is a biography in ECCP, p. 695-700.
4 A reference to the T'ao-hua-yüan chi
, a parable by T'ao Ch'ien
(365-427) concerning a fisherman who discovers a peaceful community comprised of the descendants of refugees who, centuries before, fled the troubl...
