The book of filial duty · Confucius
THE TWENTY-FOUR EXAMPLES
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, and those who requite their parents for the care bestowed upon them, we hope, are not few.
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, 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.
No. XVIII _He wept to the Bamboos, and Shoots sprang up_ Mêng Tsung, who lived in the Chin dynasty, lost his father when young. His mother was very ill, and one winter’s day she longed to taste a soup made of bamboo shoots, but Mêng could not procure any. At last he went into the bamboo grove, and, clasping the bamboos with his hands, wept bitterly. His filial love moved Nature, and the ground slowly opened, sending forth several shoots, which he gathered and carried home. He made a soup of them, which his mother tasted, and immediately recovered from her malady. In winter, when the forests are unsightly and bare, and the bamboos sombre and gloomy, for plants to send forth their branches is surprising and unexpected. But it is impossible to root out the true filial nature from men who have it, although senseless and ignorant people, not understanding its power, ridicule them, calling them mad. The young Mêng Tsung dutifully served his mother, and morning and evening waited on her to receive her commands. His mother was ill, and desired the delicacy of a soup made from bamboo shoots; but in dreary winter, Nature still concealed her fruits awaited. With anxious haste he goes to the cheerless forest, which he enters, seeking for them; but not finding the shoots, he entreats the bamboos with tears. One petition from his inmost heart ascended to the threshold of heaven, and the deities were delighted, laughing with pleasure. A miracle is wrought, the ordinary course of nature is reversed, and suddenly the pearly shoots appear in the forest.
No. XIX _He slept on Ice to procure Carp_ During the Chin dynasty lived Wang Hsiang, who early lost his mother, and whose stepmother Chu had no affection for him. His father also, hearing many evil reports against him, in course of time ceased to regard him with kindness. His mother was in the habit of eating fresh fish at her meals, but winter coming, the ice bound up the rivers. Wang unloosed his clothes, and went to sleep on the ice in order to seek them; when suddenly the ice opened of itself, and two carp leapt out, which he took up and carried to his mother. The villagers, hearing of the affair, were surprised, and admired one whose filial duty was the cause of such an unusual event. The river is firmly bound up by ice, and the fish are hidden in their deep retreats. Perturbed and anxious, Wang goes out to seek the fish, apparently forgetting that it was winter. His resolution is fixed, and although it is at the risk of his life, he will go. He was not dismayed at the coldness of the snow, nor terrified at the fierceness of the winds. Even the wicked spirits were deterred from injuring him, and dared not molest him. If metals and stones can be opened, shall ice be considered too difficult to cleave? The frisking fish came up on the surface of the water, obedient to the hand of him who would take them out. A thousand ages cannot efface the remembrance of the crack in the ice, nor obliterate the fragrant traces of so worthy a deed.
No. XX _Wu Mêng fed the Mosquitoes_ Wu Mêng, a lad eight years of age, who lived in the Chin dynasty, was very dutiful to his parents. They were so poor that they could not afford to furnish their beds with mosquito-curtains; and every summer night myriads of mosquitoes attacked them without restraint, feasting upon their flesh and blood. Although there were so many, yet Wu would not drive them away from himself, lest they should go to his parents and annoy them. Such was his filial affection! The buzzing of the mosquitoes sounds like _ying, ying_, and their united hum is almost equal to thunder. His tired parents are reclining on their bed, their countenances already sunk in slumber. Legions of mosquitoes fiercely attack them, alternately retreating and advancing. The insects disturb the dreaming sleepers, and with annoyance they toss from side to side. Wu sees them sucking his parents’ blood, which causes his heart to grieve; his flesh, he thinks, can be easily pierced, but that of his parents is hard to penetrate. Lying on the bed, he threw off his clothes, and soon feeling the pain of their attacks, he cried: “I have no dread of you, nor have you any reason to fear me; although I have a fan, I will not use it, nor will I strike you with my hand. I will lie very quietly, and let you gorge to the full.”
No. XXI This story, commemorating Yü Ch‘ien-lou of the southern Ch‘i dynasty, is best left out. No. XXII The same applies to this story, commemorating the Lady T‘ang of the T‘ang dynasty. No. XXIII _He resigned Office to seek his Mother_ In the Sung dynasty lived Chu Shou-ch‘ang, whose mother, Liu, when he was seven years of age, left the family because she was hated by his father’s wife; and mother and son did not see each other for about fifty years. It was during the reign of Shên Tsung that Chu resigned his official station and went into the Ch‘in country, and there made an engagement with his family “that he would not return until he had found his mother.” He then travelled into T‘ung-chou, where he discovered his mother, who at that time was over seventy years of age.
Thus Chu exclaimed: “I have a mother; but, alas! separated, we abide in different villages. It was not the free will of my mother which led her thus to forsake her son, but the envious mistress who compelled her to go. Without a mother, on whom shall I rely? to whom shall I pour out my sorrows and cares? Now I am grown older and have become an officer, but as yet I have been unable to return the kindness of my parent. In what place, among all the countries under heaven, does she live? I am determined to resign my office and seek her abode, not deterred from the trouble of the search. To effect it, I will part from my family and no longer be a companion with them; I will not return till I find my mother, and they need not await in expectation of me.” Heaven directed his way, and he came into T‘ung-chou, where she resided. When the mother and the son met each other, joy and grief arose together—joy for the meeting after fifty years, sorrow that they had been so long apart. But now, in one hour, all their long-accumulated griefs were laid aside, and joy and gladness filled their hearts. Chu possesses the true heavenly disposition, and honours and riches cannot destroy his affection for his mother.
No. XXIV _He watched by his Mother’s Bedside_ In the Yüan-yu period of the Sung dynasty, Huang T‘ing-chien filled the office of prefect. He was of a very filial disposition, and although honourable and renowned, yet he received his mother’s commands with the utmost deference. When his mother was seized with illness, he watched her for a whole year without leaving her bedside or even taking off his clothes; and at her death he mourned so bitterly that he himself fell ill and nearly lost his life. Well-written poetry flows along like rills meandering among the hills and valleys. This instance of a dutiful heart has not as yet been brought into much notice. For a whole year he tended his parent in her illness; and both she who dwelt in the curtained room (_i.e._ his mother) and he who remained in the hall (_i.e._ his father) strove to express the merits of their son. It would be difficult to find another child who would have done so—all would be dilatory and unwilling; and where shall we meet another who would undergo such drudgery himself with keenness and pleasure? Although raised to high office, he does not hesitate to perform the most troublesome and minute duties, for he loves his parents; how then can we suppose that he will change from what he was when young and unhonoured? _Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._ [5] That is, the usurper Wang Mang himself.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.