Part 9
Then Hu Yüch Ying said, “If indeed you will listen to me, I will forgive you.”
He replied, “Whatever you say I will do.”
Meantime the old father and mother, having heard the crying and loud voices, came to the door. It was opened and they came in, saying, “For the first time we have heard what sounded like a quarrel, and have come to see what it is about.”
Their son-in-law came and, kneeling at his father’s feet, said, “Honoured and great father, I have sinned!” Then came the daughter and, kneeling before her mother, she said, “His sins are my sins,” and after that the two boys, who said as they knelt, “Our parents’ sins are ours,” and the four wept with loud and bitter tears. The old man said:
“Arise, my children, all of you,” and lifted up his son-in-law; the mother took her daughter in her arms, and two servants came forward and lifted up the boys.
“Now,” said old Mr. Hu, “tell me all the trouble.” Then said Tu Ching Ling:
“I have lied to you.”
“What about, my son?” asked Mr. Hu. “What could you possibly do that I could not forgive?” Tu Ching Ling told of his wife, how he had lied about her, of her virtue, and all the sad, miserable story, including his fear to own his son, and sending him off. He concluded with:
“I am not worthy to be your son. Your goodness is as high as Heaven and as deep as the earth.” As he closed the old gentleman looked at Ting Lang and said:
“Thank the gods, thank the gods, that from your house has come forth such a son. My house is honoured in him. You are forgiven.”
Then the father called Ting Lang to prostrate himself before his grandparents, which he did, knocking his head to each three times. As old Mr. Hu looked at him his eyes filled and he said, “He has the virtues of Heaven and the strength of the gods; this is a son for the gods, and the glory of his father, grandfather, and most worthy mother; be comforted, son-in-law, we cannot divide the house; the child to seek his father was ready to die, and to our house has come glory, and because of the virtues of this boy the broken household shall be reunited. To-day is a great day in our family. To honour this event, for three days the workmen shall feast on meat and flour, and we will have a great house-feast for three days, that all the friends and relatives may know of our joy. We will call the best teacher in the land and the boys shall study together;” then again he put his hand on Ting Lang’s shoulder and said:
“You need not mourn for your mother. I will send for her. She shall come in state and live in luxury all the rest of her life.”
Thus were husband, wife, and children all comforted, and made ready for the great feast and theatre in honour of the oldest son. After which the oldest family servants were sent north to Peking with letters for the mother of Ting Lang.
Hu Yüch Ying wrote a beautiful letter of invitation to her, telling of the home that awaited her, of herself, the little sister who would care for her, of two sons instead of one, who longed for her instruction and help. She wrote of the comforts she could have and the welcome that awaited her.
When the servants reached Peking they had a hard time to find the small court where she had her little room. They asked for “Lady Yü,” which much surprised her neighbours. They said:
“The only one in that court by that name is an old woman who is almost a beggar; she has a small son, but he is off seeking his father.”
“Please call her,” said the head steward, and the neighbours went and said, “Mrs. Yü, some men at the gate are seeking you. They seem to belong to some big man, but their dialect is not of this province.”
Yü Yüch Ying said, “Tell them my room is small, I have no man at home, and it is not, therefore, proper for them to enter my place. Whatever business they have they are to tell you.”
As they returned to the gate the neighbours said, “Although she is so poor, she is most particular as to observing good customs.”
Then the servants sent in the two letters. She read the one from her husband, asking her pardon for his neglect, saying he had no means of expressing his deep regret, telling of his present circumstances and comforts, and thanking her for sending the son. He said he had no words to praise her virtue, it was as high as Heaven; told of the son’s finding him and how he was studying under a great teacher who pronounced him a remarkable scholar. Then he urged her “ten thousand times to come and live with them. The servants had come to bring her, and he and her sister would only be happy when she came. They hoped for her day and night, and their hearts were hungry for her friendship, even as her two sons needed her instruction.”
As she closed the letter she said, “Thanks to the gods who took my child in safety. My husband has then a wife and son. My own son is provided for; my heart is at rest.” She then wrote the following letter:
“My little sister and virtuous husband: your letters of invitation are at hand. I cannot thank you enough for your goodness to my boy. I do not desire comforts and luxuries for myself. I only desire his best good. That has come. I have suffered only that the boy and his father might be united. You need not be anxious about me. I am entirely satisfied. The Superior Man may be poor in bodily comforts, but he is not poor in wisdom or virtue. The tiger may be very thin, but the strength of his heart is not diminished.” Then she called the servants, who came and gave her a greeting. They said they had everything ready to take her back with them. Also two women-servants were waiting in the cart for her. Yü Yüch Ying said:
“I am poor, I have nothing to give you for all your long, weary journey. Please return and take this letter; I will not go with you now.” The servants all urged her and plead with her; showed her the boxes of garments, the silver sent for the journey; praised the beautiful home waiting for her, told of the kind old people, and most charming younger sister. To all she turned a deaf ear.
“My son has found his father; the latter has comforts and riches; I will abide here; here where I have suffered will I live my life; I care not for riches; although I am poor I am not covetous. Our great sage said, The Superior Man may be poor, but he will never be covetous. Although I am poor you must not try to make me ashamed, and you need not praise their riches; I may not always be poor and they may not always be rich. The gods deal out to men their lives, I am content. In the spring the grass sends up its shoots; autumn comes and the leaves fall. In the autumn of life we will compare our fates.”
As she said this the tears came; all the years of loneliness and sadness swept over her; she could not accept comforts from him who had been untrue to her, or from the one who had her place. The servants said:
“Lady Yü, you are indeed a Superior Woman. If we go back without you, you must at least keep the garments and the money.”
These she at first refused, but at last, to satisfy them, as she knew that the servants would suffer if she did not, she said:
“I do not want the silks and velvets; take those back with you. How would I, a beggar, look in such garments. Give me a few changes of cotton garments; they will fit my station better and I will not appear to be other than I am.”
This was done after much protesting; then she accepted a few ounces of silver, and told them they might use the rest on the journey back. They said:
“We have a plenty for all; we will put this in the care of a big store here; our master is part owner in it, and you must go to him for it when you need it. You must promise us this for the sake of your son. You must not cause him to weep, and be sad, because of your living in useless poverty.” She promised them she would go when she had need of money and get from the store for her use, and with great reluctance the servants, again prostrating themselves, left her; they returned to the south and she entered her poor little room.
Years came and went; to all the letters Lady Yü returned an answer that she was in need of nothing and would not leave her native city. The boys grew up together. They were very bright, and year by year took high honours in the examinations. In all the province there was no other student equal to Ting Lang. He was the talk of the city; and people predicted a great fortune for him.
When he was seventeen, he and his brother went to Peking to take the examinations for the higher degrees; for these they not only wrote the three-page essay, but also a two-page “Chin Tsin,” or a short account of the family, going back several generations and giving the official positions of any of their ancestors.
When Ting Lang entered his name and his brother’s for the examinations they had given the name of Hu and as he had not sought out his mother, no one knew that the much-talked-of young student was of the old house of Tu. His enemy, Yen Sung, had no thought of fear from the family. He was the great examiner, the head of the Hau Lin College. In all the Empire no one could write such characters as he. (At the present time, characters written by him hang in the Hall of Classics in Peking as a model of perfect writing.) Year by year his power had grown until the Emperor was almost a figurehead and hated him, yet no one dared to impeach him.
Ting Lang came with three hundred and fifty-nine other men who had the degree of “Chin Shib,” to be examined for “Chuang Yuan,” the highest degree in the Empire, and a degree only given to one man once in three years. This year it came to Ting Lang and the degree of “Pang Yen” to his brother. Ting Lang’s writing was pronounced perfect by the Emperor, the style most elegant.
At the close of the examinations a great feast was given; among those present was a powerful official by name of Hai Jui. He was noted as a man of great ability and as an honest and upright minister. He knew the story of Ting Lang’s life; felt that the time had come to expose the great Yen Sung, so at the great feast following the examinations he wrote the following on slips of paper and sent them quietly among the students:
“A great man has come among us in our new ‘Chuang Yuan.’ Although a boy in years, he is a man, yes a son of a god in ability and talent. He will be of great use to his country. There are officials—yes, great ones—who are traitors to the good of their country; these we must put down and give men of ability a chance.”
Every one knew this referred to Yen Sung though no name was given. After the feast the students all waited outside the Hall for Yen Sung to come for audience with the Emperor. As he came near to his chair, Ting Lang walked up to him and said:
“You great traitor to your country; you crafty minister; you control and insult the Emperor, hold under as slaves all officials of the Empire; you oppressor of the people, your sun is set. Your sons are like you in wickedness; your steward is a devil, and you plan with him. Your great literary name is wild and worthless; judgment awaits you, the judgment of Heaven.”
The great Yen Sung looked around; not a friendly face; his own grew a little fearful, and yet in a loud voice he called out:
“What does this mean?” and turning to the officials he had created he said, “You stand there and see me reviled; you make no motion to help me; life and death are in my hands and you will suffer.” With that he attempted to get into his chair, when Ting Lang and all his student friends set upon him. They tore off his audience cap, his royal robes, beat him, reviled him, and were in the midst of a free fight with him and his chair-bearers, when Hai Jui came from the audience hall. In a few words quiet was restored, and the great Yen Sung, torn and tattered, beaten, and raging like a lion, rushed into the audience hall and, bending before the Emperor, cried out for revenge. The Emperor had heard the commotion outside and had asked who and what it was. They had told him that the three hundred and sixty literary men who had been at the feast had set upon and were beating Yen Kë Lao. When the Emperor heard this he said:
“For literary men, men of high degree, to do such a thing means, can but mean, that they have a good clear reason, otherwise they would not act like beasts,” so he waited, and was waiting when Yen Sung rushed in.
“Great Emperor,” said he, “I have been beaten by the students, and without cause. There is going to be a rebellion, have a care, your Majesty.” When he was through the Emperor said:
“How could so many people attack one man unless there was a good reason? We will examine into this thing. Call the new ‘Chuang Yuan,’ I will ask him.” Ting Lang came and knocked his head and said:
“My lord, live ten thousand years; I have sinned, I have beaten a ‘Kë Lao.’ I ought to die.” The Emperor said:
“You are a new and very young Chuang Yuan. How can you have a death sin?” Then, turning to another official he said, “Call Hai Jui, I will have his witness.” Hai Jui knelt and said:
“I dare not look on thy face, great Lord; for a Chuang Yuan to beat a Kë Lao, there must always be a reason.” The Emperor replied:
“That is right and fair; to attack just outside of my door, there must be a clear reason and a great one,” then he turned and commanded Ting Lang to tell at once. Ting Lang said:
“Most mighty one, one word would not explain; I have it all in a document which I have here and would beg your Majesty to read. It will explain all.” He held out his document and, at a bow from the Emperor, a eunuch came forward, took it, and placed it on the table by the Emperor’s side. The latter took it up and read it: the sad story of the three generations. He read as in a dream the entire paper; he saw, as one thing after another came before his mind, how for years he had been a tool of his minister, Yen Sung. Saw how he had kept back and brought to death many a good, worthy official. At last, lifting his head, he looked at the trembling Yen Sung and said:
“Ai, ya! This is true, all of it. I know it; you are the greatest traitor under the heavens. I give to Hai Jui power to strip you of all rank, and hand you over to the Board of Punishments. You shall be tried and punished for your evil deeds.” Then, turning to Hai Jui, he commanded him to call soldiers, to then and there take him to prison; to see that a day was appointed for trial. Then he commanded that a palace be found and put in order for the new Chuang Yuan and his brother; that in the third day all officials were to call on him and make his acquaintance.
With great luxury was the palace prepared, for all rejoiced at the downfall of the great Yen Sung, and all desired to do homage to the great son of the old official house of Tu.
During these days in the city, Ting Lang had not dared to seek out his mother, as he wanted first to expose their enemy; he came to the city under the name of Hu, and while Lady Yü had heard of the very wonderful young man, she did not dare to even hope that it might be her son; she asked no questions and no one mentioned the downfall of Yen Sung. The next day a steward came and told her he suspected the young man was her son; but she said:
“No, that cannot be; no such glory awaits our house. I have heard a little of the two brothers, but you have made a mistake.” The day after the downfall she was busy at home when a neighbour came in and said:
“Some great men have just entered our street and are coming this way.” Just then a servant rushed in and said:
“They have come to get the Great Lady.”
The neighbours laughed and said, “What great lady? There is no great lady in this street.”
But the horsemen drew near the gate and awaited the chairs. The servant came and said:
“The great man, the new Chuang Yuan, has come for his honoured mother, the Lady Yü.” Then came the other servants one after another. Yü Yüch Ying put up her hand and protested:
“I am but a poor lone woman, living my life quietly. You have made a mistake, there is no great Lady Yü here.” Then in came Ting Lang, followed by his brother. In beautiful robes and special official cap, that told of his high rank, with all the glory of his position, she knew him; knew her boy who left her a little lad, returning to her with glory honestly won. As the sages truly say, “The son, though he goes thousands of miles from home, never leaves his mother’s heart; the son, though separated from his mother years, never forgets her, but carries her in his heart.” He now sprang forward and knelt before her, saying:
“Honoured mother, don’t come a step, I am unworthy.” To test his heart she said:
“And who are you that call me mother?”
“Only your own small son, Ting Lang, my mother.”
Kan Lang came and knelt beside him and said, “Great mother, I do you reverence. I also am your son.” Yü Yüch Ying came to put both hands on her son’s shoulders and said:
“Ah, son! son! I have longed for you to the death; did you not think, while you were away, of my sadness and loneliness?” Thus she put out her hand and took the hand of the younger boy, and together they wept.
“My mother, if you weep to your illness, of what joy is my promotion? Word has already gone to the southern home, and they will come to us. Our sorrows, yours are over; I shall never leave you or you me. The bitterness is over and the sweet has come, be comforted and we will all rejoice together.” Yü Yüch Ying lifted her hands and said:
“I thank Heaven and the gods that the mother and son are united again. I thank Heaven that I also have a younger son. I thank Heaven and Earth for giving such an honour to poor sightless me.”
The sons lifted her from her knees, called the servants who took her to her room, and after arranging her still beautiful black hair, they robed her in garments of honour brought by her son. When all was ready the sons came and, bending the knee, said:
“We invite our mother to take her chair, leaving this little court and room, and go with us to enjoy the pleasures and blessings granted by Heaven to the restored House of Tu.” The mother said:
“My sons, these poor neighbours have been kind to me always. Thank them for me.” This the sons did in a most respectful manner and promised to reward them. She herself then thanked them, and they escorted her to her chair, and to the palace where she was given great honour.
Later in the day, father, mother, and grandparents of Kan Lang came, and thus, after eighteen weary years, the family was reunited, and joy came in every form to them for many long years. Yü Yüch Ying lived to see and hold her great grandchildren, and to see great glory come to their house. Their great enemy was tried and punished by loss of all rank and estate; his last days spent in poverty and seclusion. Tradition says he was given a silver bowl and made to beg from door to door for the rest of his life, and a small street called “Silver Street” is said to have been named for his bowl and the fact that there he died on the street a beggar. History only records the loss of rank and estate. His steward, Nien Chi, was tried at the same time, and was sentenced to be burned alive in the street,—“A fine lamp for one dark night.” Thus was meted out punishment to the enemies of the House of Tu.
NOTES
1. The song of “Ting Lang Seeking his Father” is never sung by the “foundation beaters” of China except they are given a special gift of money or a meal of white bread. There is no other song among the many they sing that produces the effect that this one does; man by man they seem to live over the little lad’s life. A leader sings the main part, they coming in in special parts as it is arranged. When one of the British Legation buildings in Peking was being built, they paid five dollars to have the song sung, and it is always the special for all large Chinese buildings.
2. The place where the wicked Nien Chi lived is the site of the American Board Mission in Peking and was bought by them over forty years ago. It adjoins the grounds of the great and more wicked Yen Sung. This is now the home of a Mongol Prince. The palace has had for hundreds of years an unsavoury reputation. It was the underlings, servants, and Boxers, supported by the present owner, who was also a Boxer leader, who destroyed the Congregational Mission in 1900. It was the place where the Mission made its headquarters until the rebuilding of the Board property. It was here many Christians were taken, tried, and sentenced to death. So the present record is similar to that of the days of Yen Sung.