University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XXIX.

Auguries Verified (Shih-ying).

The learned say in regard to the auguries of times of universal
peace that they are things formed of a strange fluid, such as vermilion
grass, wine springs, the flying phœnix, sweet dew,[1470] the
brilliant star,[1471] auspicious grain, the "meat fan,"[1472] the monthly plant,[1473]
the "indicator,"[1474] and the like. Moreover they add that in these
times mountains produce chariots and lakes, boats;[1475] that men and
women each have their own way, and that in the markets there
are not two different prices. Peasants yield their fieldmark and
travellers, the road. Hoary heads have not to carry burdens in
their hands,[1476] gates and bridges are never closed, no robberies committed
on the roads. The wind does not howl in the boughs,[1477] the rain does not wash away the clods, every five days it is windy
but one day, and every ten days there is one rainy day. This
prosperity attracts the yellow dragon, the unicorn, and the phœnix.

These assertions of the literati are highly coloured and overdrawn.
The ominous things partly exist and partly do not exist.
The phœnix and the unicorn, &c. referred to are great auguries,
and their description is more or less correct, but there should be
no exaggeration. As for the smaller auguries and the less important
correspondences, however, there is much wrong about them, I am
afraid.

Wind, air, rain, and dew must be sympathetic,[1478] the statement
about the flying phœnix and the sweet dew, the wind not howling
in the boughs, and the rain not washing the clods of earth away,
is admissible therefore, but what has been said about the wind
every five days, and the rain every ten, is nothing but a rodomontade.
Though wind and rain must be in proper time, there
can be no question of five and ten days or exactly fixed periods.

That men and women have no intercourse, and that one is
not cheated with the market-price may be, but to speak of different
roads, and that there are not two prices, is an exaggeration. How
could in times of universal peace extra roads be constructed for
the male and female sexes? No special roads are built, they walk
on the same road; how could there be different ones.[1479]

Provided that in times of universal peace there are no merchants,
very well, but if there are, they will see their principal
aim in seeking their advantage. How should they not affect cheapness
in purchasing goods, or how should they not attempt to obtain
high prices in selling? There being this instinct for low and high
prices according to circumstances, we cannot avoid speaking of two
prices.

All these things exist, but are magnified and puffed up. As to
the "meat fans," the "monthly plants," and the "indicators,"
however, there are no such things, most likely for the following
reasons:—To tell the truth, there never were such things, not even
in times of perfect peace.

Scholars pretend that "meat fans" grow in cook-houses. In
kitchens, they say, collops grow of their own accord, as thin as
fans. Moved they make wind,[1480] and fanning eatables, they cause
them not to spoil.

However genial the breeze of the time of universal peace may
be, it cannot make "meat fans" grow in kitchens, to be used for
cooling purposes. If it could do this, it could cause the Five Grains
to grow without any human help as well. In case it could make
these "meat fans" grow in kitchens spontaneously, why does it not

cause rice to boil in the pot of itself, or fire to burn in the oven
of its own accord? The purport of producing fans being to blow
wind upon eatables, why are these eatables not caused not to spoil
spontaneously, and why must special fans be produced to fan them?
Provided that fans can grow in kitchens of themselves, what is
the use of ice-houses,[1481] and of cutting ice for the purpose of refrigerating
things?

In the summer months people use their fans, but, in order to
cause wind, they must move them with their hands. Grasped by
the hand, fans act like strong wind, but do not stir of themselves.
If "meat fans" possessed a spontaneous motion, it would be different,
but they require wind to be moved, and without wind they remain
motionless. Only after the hand has furnished the wind, they are
fit to refrigerate the things in the kitchen. How are "meat fans"
required for this?

There is a tradition that Tan, heir-presumtive of Yen, caused the
sun to revert to the meridian, Heaven to rain grain, crows to get
white heads, horses to grow horns, and the wooden elephants on
the kitchen door to get legs of flesh.[1482] Since this is a fiction, the
statement about the "meat fans" being like the fulfilment of the
five vows,[1483] is an untruth too, I dare say.

The Literati, moreover, narrate that, of yore, a "monthly plant"
grew among the steps leading up to the side-buildings of the palace.
On the first day of the month one capsule[1484] came out, and up to
the fifteenth fifteen capsules had grown. From the sixteenth onward
one capsule fell down every day,[1485] until on the thirteenth all
the seeds had dropped. On the first day of the following month,
one capsule grew again. The emperor, facing the south, could learn
the number of days from observing the growing and dropping

capsules, and needed not take the trouble of consulting the almanac[1486]
for that.

Now, if Heaven could produce these capsules to represent the
number of days, wherefore did it not make them show the name
of the day,[1487] so that the emperor, on seeing the character on the
capsule, might know it? Knowing merely the number of the day,
but not its name, he would still have to consult the almanac for
information. Thus his beholding the number of days would not
spare him any trouble, on the contrary. How then could the
growth of the monthly plant be deemed a great luck?

The grains of the monthly plant are like the pods of peas.
They do not yet grow in spring and summer, and do not ripen
before the end of autumn. When November is bitter cold, and
frost and snow come drizzling down, all plants wither. Would the
scholars dare to contend that the monthly plant, on reaching winter,
alone does not die? Provided that it lives and dies like all other
plants, its capsules must grow about the end of autumn. Then
they might be examined in autumn, but during the other three
seasons, spring, summer, and winter it would be impossible.

Moreover, if, on fifteen days of a month, fifteen capsules are
produced, and, on the sixteenth, one capsule falls down, on the
twenty-first day, six must have dropped. These dropped capsules
would be lost and could no more be counted. Therefore it would
become necessary to count the remaining ones, in order to find out
the number of days. That would be most irksome and annoying
and by no means a blessing.[1488]

Supposing that the capsules grew upon the reception hall,[1489]
and that the monarch, seated between the door and the window,[1490]
by a look on their growth could know the number of days, this
could not be considered a great advantage. Now, they say that
the plant grows on the steps of the side-buildings i. e., below the
outer hall. As regards the imperial hall, Mê Tse says of that of
Yao and Shun that it was raised three feet above the ground,

whereas the houses of the Literati are quite low. Should this be
the case, and the monthly plant grow below the steps of a hall
three feet high, the emperor desirous of seeing the capsules, could
not do so from his seat between the door and the window, but
in order to know their number, he would be compelled to enter
the outer hall, and look at them from there. Rather than to rise
for the purpose of viewing the capsules below the hall, the emperor
might have hung up the calendar day on the screen[1491] near
his seat, whence one glance would have been sufficient.[1492]

Heaven, by engendering omens, wishes to please the emperor,
yet, if the latter be obliged to rise and examine the seeds to learn
the number of days, it would have produced a most awkward
thing, which proved a source of mortification to the emperor.

Besides, the monthly plant is a herb:—the imperial hall being
inhabited day and night, even the ancients, in spite of their simplicity,
would have weeded out any plants growing in the rooms
of the palace. How could capsules grow there, and people count
them month after month?

Whenever days are counted one by one, it is with a view to
recording events. Of old, there were the astrologers[1493] who regulated
the calendar and fixed the days. Wherefore, then, should the
emperor himself have counted the seeds? In Yao's time Hsi and
Ho were charged with examining the Four Stars[1494] during the four
seasons, in order to foretell the weather.[1495] These stars were very
important, yet the emperor did not observe them personally, and
he examined the capsules himself to number the days?

The learned further relate that in times of perfect peace the
"indicator" grows in a corner of the palace, shaped like a plant,
which points out cunning persons.[1496] When such a one enters the
palace, the indicator in its corner points at him, so that the monarch

knows where the cunning person is. Accordingly, Heaven created
this plant on purpose, with the object of indicating cunning people,
and it did not make the nature of the holy emperors such that
they could know it themselves. Perhaps no cunning people came
forth originally. If Heaven created the plant, nevertheless, to point
them out, did it not fear the trouble?

No sage emperor ever had a better government than Yao and
Shun, which was most peaceful, so that the "indicator" grew in a
corner of their palace of its own accord. When cunning persons
arrived it made them known, and Shun had no difficulty in finding
them out. Albeit yet he employed Kao Yao to exhibit his knowledge
of men.

The Classic[1497] says, "To know a man one must be wise, but
it is difficult for an emperor."[1498] Though men are imbued with the
Five Virtues and communicate together through their voices, yet
they do not know each other. How could the "indicator," being
a plant, know the cunning? According to the view of the Literati,
plants and trees of the time of universal peace would outshine
worthies and sages.

In law-suits there is right and wrong, and human character
may be straight or crooked. Why not, at the same time, cause the
"indicator" to point out unjustice and crookedness too? Why must
one take the trouble to hear the cases, three men being required
to give judgment?

Perhaps this "indicator" plant never existed, and is nothing
but an invention, or it really existed, but its indicating power is
fictitious. Provided that it really could point, then perhaps the
plant's nature was affected by the aspect of men. The ancients,
observing the movements of the plant, in their simplicity then
imagined that it could point, and from this pointing the ability of
indicating cunning people was evolved in their minds.[1499] When a
ladle which turns southwards is thrown on the ground, its handle

points to the south. Worms from fish and meat, placed on the
ground, creep northward.[1500] This is the nature of these worms.
The indicating power of the plants would, also, be its original
nature.

Because this plant could point, the Sage[1501] propagated the
statement that the "indicator" grew in a corner of the palace and
could point out cunning people. All officers and functionaries
cherishing wicked designs, thereupon, changed their minds, and
reformed their conduct, adopting loyal and honest proceedings.

At present, in the court-yards of public buildings, Kao Yao
and the monoceros[1502] are painted, and scholars declare that the monoceros
is a goat with one horn which, by instinct, knows the guilty.
When Kao Yao, administering justice, was doubtful about the guilt
of a culprit, he ordered this goat to butt it. It would butt the
guilty, but spare the innocent. Accordingly, it was a sage animal
born with one horn, a most efficient assistent in judicial proceedings.
Therefore did Kao Yao hold it in high respect, using it
on all occasions. Consequently, it belonged to the class of supernatural
ominous creatures.

I say, the remarks concerning the "indicator" apply to the
monoceros as well:—A goat must have two horns, the monoceros
had one. When compared with its kindred, it had a bodily defect,
and did not come up with its species; why, then, must it be looked
upon as a miracle? A turtle with three legs is called a nêng,[1503] and
a tortoise with three legs, a fên.[1504] Since neither a nêng nor a fên

are considered more wonderful than turtles and tortoises with four
legs, wherefore should a goat with one horn be wiser than others
with two horns?

The rhinopithecus[1505] knows the past, the magpie, the future, and
parrots can talk.[1506] Their original nature enables them to do one
thing, but not two. Perhaps the monoceros was so organised that
it merely could gore a man, but there is no necessity why it should
have known whether he was guilty. Kao Yao, from a desire to
give more weight to his administration by the supernatural, lest
those suffering punishment should be recalcitrant, availed himself
of the monoceros, and when it gored somebody he punished him,
in order that people might be afraid of doing wrong, and that
culprits, up to their old age, should never complain of injustice.

All animals are endowed with some special knowledge; if the
monoceros, in view of its faculty of butting be held to be supernatural,
the rhinopithecus and the like would all be supernatural,

Wizards know good and ill luck, and predetermine happiness
and adversity. There is no doubt about that; however, if the
monoceros be said to possess similar faculties, wizards can no more
be regarded as exceptional or remarkable men.

There is a general tendency to make use of the supernatural
as an incentive. When Shih Shang Fu[1507] was minister of war to the
Chou[1508] sovereign and leading an army to defeat Chou,[1509] they arrived
at Mêng Ford. There leaning on his halberd and grasping a
standard, he shouted to his men the word "T`sang-kuang."[1510] A
t`sang-kuang is a water animal which is in the habit of subverting
boats. Therefore he used this monster to impress his men, inducing
them promptly to cross the water, since otherwise the t`sangkuang
would injure them. Consequently it bears some resemblance
to the monoceros.

This strange creature lives in the river, and at times comes
swimming to the surface. It has one body with nine heads. People
dread and loathe it, but it does not follow that it must subvert
ships. Since there was such a strange animal in the river, Shang
Fu used it to overawe his warriors. The monoceros goring culprits
is like the t`sang-kuang subverting boats. All these are empty stories
without any foundation. Man is afraid of the marvellous, therefore
he magnifies and embellishes it.

It has, also, been said that in times of universal peace the
"brilliant star" appears. We learn from the "Middle Period of
the Shuking"[1511] that in the time of Yao the brilliant star became
visible in Corvus.[1512] Now the brilliant star may have been one of
the Five Planets of which the biggest are Jupiter and Venus. At
that time, Jupiter or Venus may have come into the latitude of
Corvus. The ancients in their simplicity could not follow up the
courses of the Five Planets, and did not know the exact shape
of Jupiter and Venus. On perceiving a big star, they styled it
"brilliant star."[1513]

The Shiking, moreover, states[1514] that in the east there was
Lucifer[1515] and in the west Hesperus.[1516] These, again, were perhaps no

other stars than Jupiter and Venus.[1517] It may be that they appeared
at dusk in the west, and at dawn in the east. The poets of the
Shiking did not know them, and thus gave them the names of
Lucifer and Hesperus. Hesperus as well as the brilliant star belongs
to the Five Planets.

In times of universal peace, the lustre of the sun and the
moon are peculiarly brilliant. The Five Planets are akin to the
sun and the moon. If in such blessed times there appears a
"brilliant star" extra, would there be a new sun and another moon
likewise? The authors of the Shiking are common people, and the
middle period is an age of simplicity, when nobody was well versed
in astronomy.

Under the régime of Wang Mang, Venus traversed the sky as
effulgent as a crescent. If persons ignorant of stars had seen it,
they would again have called it a "brilliant star."

The Erh-ya[1518] in its chapter on the four seasons says that in
spring plants begin growing, in summer they develop and ripen,
in autumn they are harvested, and in winter there is complete
stillness.[1519] The four fluids combined produce the "brilliant star."[1520]
According to this explanation of the Erh-ya, "brilliant star" would
be but another name of the blending of the fluids of the four
seasons, and I am afraid that it cannot be a big star attached to
the sky. The Erh-ya is a book commenting upon the antiquities
of the Five Classics; all students have recourse to it, but they do
not follow it, insomuch as they hold the "brilliant star" to be a
big star in the skies. Why is the assertion of the Erh-ya about
the "brilliant star" so divergent from the view of the scholars?

The Erh-ya further says that when "sweet dew" descends
the whole vegetation is blessed,[1521] and that it is called "wine spring."[1522]

Consequently wine springs mean sweet dew. But the savants of today
urge that these springs flow from within the earth, and that
their taste is as sweet as wine, whence the name "wine spring"
is derived. There is a considerable discrepancy between these two
statements, and it is difficult to know the truth.

In the chapter of the Erh-ya treating of water and springs[1523]
we read that a spring which at times is visible, at others not, is
called intermittent.[1524] A fountain[1525] comes straight out; to come
straight out means welling up. A cascade[1526] falls down; to fall
down means flowing downward.[1527] Consequently, springs are given
different names according to their different modes of flowing forth.
Provided that in times of general peace there be still wine springs
issuing from the earth, they ought to be mentioned in this chapter,
wherefore are they inserted into the chapter on the four seasons,
where it is said that "sweet dew" is equivalent to "wine spring?"
Therefore the affirmation of the Literati to the effect that wine
springs rise from earth, and their contention that the taste of sweet
dew is very sweet cannot be accepted as correct.

Scholars maintain that when the highest principles prevail the
radiance of the sun and the moon is most brilliant, the stars do
not deviate from their courses, a whirl-wind arises, sweet dew falls
down, the rain is well apportioned, and the Yin uniform. Respecting
this sweet dew they do not contend that the taste of the rain
water is sweet. Accordingly they mean to say that this sweet dew
descending moistens and nourishes the whole vegetation, but it must
not taste sweet.

However, there is also a sort of dew as luscious as lollypops
and honey, and always a presage of universal peace, but it is not
the sweet dew nourishing all plants. How so? This dew as sweet
as lollypops and honey cleaves to trees, and not to the Five Grains.
When the other dew without a sweet taste falls down, it saturates

the soil and irrigates the vegetation, infiltrating and soaking everything.

Thus the Erh-ya comes near the truth, for its statement may
be verified by experience. When the sweet tasting dew falls down
and adheres to a tree, the tree to which it sticks does not become
more luxuriant than others to which it does not stick. Yet the
sweet dew of our time is different from that described by the
Erh-ya, I should say. The sweet dew of the Erh-ya has the peculiarity
that all plants touched by it will flourish and come to
maturity, no natural calamity intervening. This is a characteristic
of a fall of sweet dew. Sweet dew, therefore, is nothing else than
wine springs.