THE JOURNAL OF THE ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY
OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND
FOR 1916
[LONDON, 1916]
THE EIGHT IMMORTALS
BÁT TIÊN 八 仙
By W. PERCEVAL YETTS
ONE of the subjects beloved of Chinese artists is a venerable figure in an attitude of profound reverie shown as part of a wild and romantic scene of forest, crag, and torrent. Sometimes below his rocky hermitage there stretches a plain with far-off shadowy outlines of ordinary mortal habitations, of which the faint remoteness suggests the gulf separating him from mundane cares and vanities. Looking at such a one, instinct tells us that he feels, to use the words of Shelley, "as if his nature were resolved into the surrounding universe, or as if the surrounding universe were resolved into his being." He belongs to a strange race, variously named by Western writers Fairies, Immortals, Genii, Rishi. And here may it be remarked in parenthesis that neither "fairy" nor "immortal" is a term that exactly fits them; nor, indeed, does Arabic jinn or Sanskrit rishi. They are a race peculiarly Chinese and apart. Hence it would seem most appropriate to call them by their native name hsien, now commonly written 仙, a pictogram representing perfectly the essence of their cult—the primitive contact of man with Nature typified by the mountains. Hsien, therefore,
they will be termed in these pages.
The painter's motive in using this figure might be explained by desire to symbolize the untarnished thought and feeling of early Taoism—something near akin to that passionate love of Nature instinctive in the Chinese mind. Perhaps he seeks thus to convey a hint of the emotion that inspires his brush; yet maybe he is conscious of no loftier purpose than to complete the scheme of composition. Whatever the reason, the frequent presence of this figure in landscape as an integral part of the picture is a characteristic and significant feature of a form of art adjudged the highest achievement of the national genius.
Now, while hsien may be depicted without personal attributes merely as types of their kind, more often they appear as endowed with definite individuality. They are made recognizable by some distinguishing emblem (pao pei) or peculiarity, so that the place of each in the legendary lore of Taoism can be identified. The number of hsien whose lives and exploits are recorded in the standard works on the subject reaches a formidable total; but for the purposes of popular representation a comparatively small throng of several score has been selected by common usage.1 Among these latter the favourite and by far the most ubiquitous are the pa hsien, so well known to Western students and collectors under the title of The Eight Immortals. The purpose of this article is to give the generally accepted tradition surrounding this group of eight as exemplified in the works of Chinese artists and craftsmen. To do so within the space of a few pages it seems best to combine the writer's notes upon a large number of objects of art with extracts from some single widely known and representative book. Such a book is the Lieh hsien chuan. Its title is the same as that of a famous collection of short biographies attributed to the statesman, author, and magician Liu Hsiang2 of the first century B.C. The book translated here was compiled by a Taoist called Huan-ch‘u, probably towards the end of the Yüan period (A.D. 1206-1368). Unlike its older namesake it is illustrated, the fifty-five hsien whose lives it contains being portrayed in a corresponding number of woodcuts. The quality of the illustrations suggests that they, like the text, were derived from different sources, for they are of unequal merit. Some show skill and imagination, while others are poor affairs. The text is carelessly put together; many passages that can be traced to their origin are found to be misquoted or mutilated, and typographical errors are frequent. Perhaps these are sufficient reasons why it is not included among the 1,464 works comprising the official canon described by Wieger. What is most important for our purpose is the fact that this Lieh hsien chuan seems to have provided a sort of handbook of Taoist mythology to which reproducers of such themes have turned for information. Its convenient size, small price, frequent editions, and many illustrations explain its popularity and wide circulation.
The names of The Eight Immortals, according to the generally accepted version, are as follows: Chung-li Ch‘üan, Ho Hsien-ku, Chang Kuo, Lü Tung-pin, Han Hsiang tzu, Ts‘ao Kuo-chiu, Li T‘ieh-kuai, and Lan Ts‘ai-ho. It should be mentioned, however, that one or two in the list are occasionally replaced by other hsien.
Just when the Eight came first to be grouped together seems to be as great a mystery as the reason why these particular hsien should have been picked out for special honour. According to a passage quoted by Mayers, the tradition that establishes them as a definite unit is traceable to no higher antiquity than the Yüan period.3 One of them, Ts‘ao Kuo-chiu, is said to have lived as late as the Sung. On the other hand, it seems certain that some group of pa hsien was recognized at a much earlier date, for in the dictionary P‘ien tzu lei pien there is mention of a T‘ang book entitled ###; and besides, the famous, "Eight Immortals of the Wine Cup" belong to the same period. It is a fact that single members of the group were painted as early as the T‘ang—witness the masterly ninth century drawing of Lü Tung-pin reproduced in the first volume of Ars Asiatica, of which the authors remark that the date of the picture warrants the supposition that here we have an actual authentic portrait. At the present day it is rare to find representations of our group that can be attributed beyond doubt to a period earlier than the Ming; certainly I have never seen one.
CHUNG-LI CH‘ÜAN
This hsien is generally bearded and corpulent, and is often shown half-naked. Artists do not as a rule attempt to reproduce all the curious physical features attributed to him in the following biography. He is to be recognized by his distinctive emblem, a fan, which may be one made of feathers, as in the accompanying woodcut, or one roughly quadrangular with rounded corners and concave edges, made from the leaf of the fan-palm. The latter type of fan is often combined with a fly-whisk fixed to its distal end. Occasionally he appears with a two-edged sword, the pao pei of his pupil Lü Tung-pin (see ).
Biography from Lieh hsien chuan, i, 34 seq.:—
Chung-li Ch‘üan was a native of Yen T‘ai. In later life he assumed the name (ming) of Chüeh. He was also known by the style (tzu) of The Taoist Hermit, and by the pseudonyms (hao) The Philosopher Wang-yang and The Master Yün-fang.
His father was one of the small princelings of the second rank, and he ruled his fief from the town of Yün-chung.
The birth of this sage was accompanied with strange phenomena in the shape of rays of light, scores of feet in length, whereat all those in attendance were much amazed.
The babe had a high dome-like top to his head, a massive brow, large ears, elongated eyebrows, deep-set eyes, a prominent nose, a square-shaped mouth, a large jaw, and lips and cheeks the colour of cinnabar. His nipples were set far apart, and his arms were as long as those of a three-year-old child.
Day and night he never uttered a sound till he was seven days old, when, springing to his feet, he exclaimed:
"My feet have wandered in the purple palace of the hsien1,
My name is recorded in the capital of the Jade Emperor."
On reaching man's estate, he was given command of an expedition sent by the Han Emperor against the Tibetans; but, having suffered defeat, he became a fugitive riding alone through wild and mountainous country. Lost in a dense forest, he came upon a foreign priest with unkempt locks hanging over his face and garments made of straw. The priest led the way for several li till they came within sight of a village. "This is the abode," he said, "of The Master Tung-hua, who has attained Tao.3 You can get a lodging here." Then, making a bow, he departed. Chung-li Ch‘üan did not venture to knock on a door for fear of startling the villagers, but after some time he heard someone say, "This must be due to the blabbing of that blue-eyed foreigner."
Then there appeared an aged man, clad in white deer-skins and leaning upon a blackthorn staff, who addressed him in a loud voice. "Are you not the Han General Chung-li Ch‘üan?" cried he, "and why have you not found a lodging with the foreign priest?" Hearing these words Chung-li Ch'üan was amazed, and recognized that this was no ordinary man. He reflected that having made his escape from deadly perils (lit. from the lairs of tigers and wolves), now was the time to direct his thoughts to the mysteries of immortality (lit. ideas of the luan1 and crane2).
And so his heart returned to the contemplation of Tao. He earnestly begged for the secret of transcending mortal limitations from the old man, who thereupon imparted to him not only an infallible magic process for attaining longevity, but also the degree of heat required to produce the "Philosopher's Stone", and the Green Dragon1 method of sword-play.2 As Chung-li Ch‘üan was about to depart, having taken leave of the old man, he turned round for a last look at the village, and lo! it had vanished.
By and by he came across the Taoist adept Hua-yang, and received from him a pinch of the Great Monad, a fire charm, and some of the spiritual drug of immortality.
Chung-li Ch‘üan wandered about in haphazard fashion till he reached the State of Lu1, and dwelt for a while in the city of Tsou. Later on he retired to the K‘ung-t‘ung Mountains,2 and took up his abode on the Red-gold Peak, where the Four Grey-heads3 had lived. There he found a jade casket containing the arcana of Taoism, and, having attained hsienship, departed this world.
HO HSIEN-KU
Ho Hsien-ku is shown as a comely girl sometimes dressed in elaborate robes, but more often wearing over a simple garment the leafy cape and skirt affected by the hsien. A large ladle is her recognized emblem. Its bowl, made of bamboo basketwork, is often filled with several objects associated with Taoist immortality, e.g., the magic fungus4 and peach5; sprigs of bamboo and of pine1; and flowers of the narcissus2. The place of the ladle may be taken by the more picturesque long-stalked lotus bloom; and sometimes she holds just a fly-whisk or the basket of wild fruit and herbs gathered for her mother.
Biography from Lieh hsien chuan, ii, 32, 33:—
Ho Hsien-ku was the daughter of Ho T‘ai, of the town of Tsêng-ch‘êng, in the prefecture of Canton.
At birth she had six long hairs on the crown of her head. When she was about 14 or 15 a divine personage appeared to her in a dream and instructed her to eat powdered mica, in order that her body might become etherealized and immune from death. So she swallowed it, and also vowed to remain a virgin.
Up hill and down dale she used to flit just like a creature with wings. Every day at dawn she sallied forth, to return at dusk, bringing back mountain fruits she had gathered for her mother.
Later on by slow degrees she gave up taking ordinary food.
The Empress Wu dispatched a messenger to summon her to attend at the palace, but on the way thither she disappeared.
In the ching lung period (about A.D. 707) she ascended on high in broad daylight,3 and became a hsien. In the ninth year of the t‘ien pao period (A.D. 750) Ho Hsien-ku reappeared, standing amidst rainbow clouds over a shrine dedicated to Ma Ku. Again, in the to li period (about A.D. 772) she appeared in the flesh on the Hsiao-shih Tower at Canton.
CHANG KUO
This member of the group is easily recognized by his pao pei, a curious object which to Western eyes resembles a diminutive golfer's bag containing two clubs. Actually it is a kind of musical instrument called a "fish-drum", composed of a cylinder, often of bamboo, over one end of which is stretched a piece of prepared fish or snake skin. What look like two projecting golf clubs are the ends of long slips of bamboo used as castanets. They may be carried in his hand. Another attribute, distinctive of this hsien, is the white donkey upon whose back he rides. The association existing between the two is so close that frequently when Chang Kuo is represented unmounted (his ass presumably being tucked away in his cap-box), a miniature image of the animal may be seen amid a curling wreath of vapour emitted from the open end of his drum, or from the mouth of the calabash that forms part of the outfit of every hsien.
Biography from Lieh hsien chuan, ii, 28 seq.:—
Chang Kuo lived the life of a hermit on Mount Chung-t‘iao in Hêng Chou1, and used to wander, to and fro, between the River Fen and the Chin3 territory.
He acquired the magic art of prolonging life. It was his custom to ride a white ass, travelling tens of thousands of li a day. Whenever he stopped to rest, he folded his donkey up, when it was no thicker than paper, and slipped it into his cap-box. Then as soon as he wished to ride again he squirted water from his mouth over it, and transformed it back into a donkey.
The Emperors T‘ai Tsung (A.D. 627-49) and Kao Tsung (A.D. 650-83) of the T‘ang summoned him to Court, but he refused to go.1 The Empress Wu also sent for him to leave his mountain retreat, but he feigned death in front of the Tu-nü Shrine. The season then being blazing hot, in a very short while his body gave forth the odour of putrefaction and begot worms, whereupon the Empress was convinced that he was really dead. Subsequently someone saw him again on the Hêng Chou mountain.
In the twenty-third year of the k‘ai yüan period (A.D. 735) the Emperor Ming Huang commissioned a eunuch secretary, by name P‘ei Wu, to ride post haste to Hêng Chou to fetch him. Chang Kuo went to the Eastern capital, where he was installed in the Chi-hsien Palace, and treated with all possible courtesy and respect. The Emperor plied him with questions about the hsien,
but he gave no reply.
He was an adept at regulating the breath5, and for days together would go without food, drinking frequent potions of wine. The Emperor having bestowed upon him some wine, he declined it, saying, "Your servant is able to drink no more than two pints, but he has a disciple who can manage ten." Ming Huang was pleased and gave orders for him to be summoned. All of a sudden a small Taoist priest flew down from the roof of the palace. Aged about 15 or 16, he had a handsome face and an engaging personality. The Emperor having ordered him to be seated, Chang Kuo protested, "My disciple should remain standing while in attendance upon Your Majesty." This pleased the Emperor still more, and he presented some wine to the disciple, who managed to drink off a small tou1 of it. Chang Kuo then called a halt, exclaiming, "Pray give him no more, or it will exceed his limit." Nevertheless, Ming Huang insisted upon presenting him with more, the result being that he became drunk, and the wine welled up out through the crown of his head, dislodging his cap, which fell to the ground. Instantly he was transformed into a golden wine-cup. The Emperor and the imperial concubines alike were amazed and amused to see the Taoist disappear and nothing left in his place but a golden cup. On examination it proved to be one belonging to the Chi-hsien Palace, and just capable of holding a single tou of wine.
The Emperor addressed Kao Li-shih3, saying: "I have heard it said that he who can drink aconite1 without suffering harm is a marvellous being. Since the weather now is cold, let Chang Kuo have some in his wine." They did so, and having drunk three lots Kuo collapsed, exclaiming, "This wine is not good." He then lay down to sleep. Presently his teeth were observed to grow black and to recede into the gums; whereupon he looked round, and, taking a ju-i2 from one of the bystanders, he knocked them out and wrapped them up in his girdle. Then he brought out some ointment which he rubbed upon his gums, and slowly a new set of teeth appeared as white and glistening as jade.
Whilst the Emperor was hunting at Hsien-yang3 he killed a large deer, and was about to tell his chief steward to have it cooked, when Chang Kuo said: "This is a supernatural deer; it is fully a thousand years old. Long ago in the fifth year of the period yüan shou (B.C. 118), during the reign of the Han Emperor Wu,4 I was with the imperial retinue when they were hunting in the Shang-lin Park. We caught this deer and let it go again." The Emperor remarked: "Deer are plentiful, and it was a long while ago. How could it possibly have survived such a long succession of ages?" Chang Kuo replied, "At the time when Wu Ti had the deer released he caused an inscribed bronze plate to be attached to the base of its left antler." Thereupon an examination of the deer was ordered; and, indeed, it did have a bronze plate, more than two inches long, only the characters had become obliterated.
The Emperor inquired of Yeh Fa-shan1 whether he knew who Chang Kuo was. "I do know," he replied, "but death might be the penalty of my telling, therefore I dare not speak. If Your Majesty is willing to protect me (by pleading on my behalf) with your cap doffed and your feet bared,2 then I will venture to tell you." The Emperor having consented, Fa-shan said, "At the time when cosmos was being evolved from chaos, the spiritual essence of a white bat . . ."; the sentence was broken off unfinished, for blood gushed from his seven channels of sense, and he fell prostrate upon the ground. The Emperor hurried to Chang Kuo's abode, where he removed his cap and bared his feet, and declared that he himself was the one to blame. Chang Kuo calmly replied: "That young fellow talks too much. If I allowed him to go without punishment, I fear he might divulge the secret of the universe." The Emperor having again and again implored forgiveness, Chang Kuo squirted water from his mouth over the face of Fa-shan, who forthwith came to life again.
After that the Emperor treated Chang Kuo with still greater honour, and decreed that his portrait should be placed in the Chi-hsien Palace. He also conferred upon him the title Master of Taoist Mysteries. But Chang Kuo repeatedly submitted that he was old and in failing health, and at length his prayers led to his being sent back to Hêng Chou.
At the beginning of the t'ien pao period (about A.D. 742) Ming Huang sent a messenger to summon him to the capital again, but immediately on receiving the news he died. His disciples buried him. Subsequently, when the coffin was opened it was found to be quite empty.
The Emperor had a shrine built, called the Ch‘i-hsia Kuan, in which votive offerings were made in his honour.
LÜ TUNG-PIN
The Patriarch of Hsien, best known as Lü Tung-pin, is represented a dignified elderly man generally clothed in the dress worn by the scholarly class. His emblem is the magic two-edged sword, which he carries in his hand or slung on his back. He is the literary member of our group; and, while in some localities regarded as the patron saint of jugglers and magicians,2 he is more widely looked upon by barbers as their special protector.3 In the last capacity he is called in Peking the Patriarch Lo4. So far as my observation goes this hsien occupies the place of chief importance and popularity among The Eight Immortals. He is portrayed more frequently than any other single member of the group; and, in addition to innumerable notices of him to be found in general Taoist literature, there are at least two large works entirely devoted to his life and doings. Shrines in his honour are to be found all over China—a statement that does not apply to any of the other seven.
Biography from Lieh hsien chuan, ii, 22 seq.:—
Lü Yen, whose literary name (tzu) was Tung-pin, lived under the T‘ang dynasty, and was a native of the town of Yung-lê, in the prefecture of P‘u-chou1. He was also called (hao) Shun-yang.
At the moment when his mother gave him birth an unearthly perfume pervaded the house, and strains of celestial music were wafted from the sky, and a white crane from heaven flew down between the curtains of her bed and was seen no more. Even when a newly-born infant his frame was strong as metal, and his muscles hard as wood. The crown of his head formed a high dome resembling a crane's; his back was arched like that of a tortoise; his eyes were as brilliant as those of a phœnix; and his eyebrows extended on either side to meet the hair round the temples.
While still a child he was very quick at learning, being able to memorize thousands of lines a day. His language was fluent and couched in classical terms. In height 8 ft. 2 in., he resembled Chang tzu-fang4.
At the age of 20 he had not yet taken unto himself a wife.5
The Patriarch Ma1 saw him at the beginning of his career, when he was still in swaddling-clothes, and exclaimed: "His bodily frame is that of no ordinary mortal. Eccentric in character, he will hold aloof from worldly affairs; whatever hovel he happens upon he will make it his home; whenever he sees a goblet of wine he will partake of it. Mark well my words."
By-and-by Tung-pin wandered to the Lu Range, and there met by chance the Taoist adept Huo-lung, who instructed him in acquiring supernatural invisibility by the magic sword method.
During the hui ch‘ang period (A.D. 841-6) of the T‘ang he went up twice for the third or doctor's degree, but failed. At that time he was 64 years of age.
Once having wandered into a tavern at Ch‘ang-an, he watched a Taoist priest, dressed in a black cap and white gown, scribbling without apparent effort the following stanza upon the wall:—
"Whenever I would rest I grasp a cup of wine,
Oblivious of all else in this great capital.
So vast are heaven and earth that I remain unknown,
An old man wandering by himself among mankind."
Impressed and attracted by his strange appearance and extreme old age, as well as by the grace and spontaneity of his poem, Tung-pin made him a bow and inquired his name. The old Taoist replied: "I am The Master Yün-fang (alias Chung-li Ch‘üan, q.v.), and my home is upon the Crane Ridge, of the Chung-nan Mountains. Can you accompany me in my wanderings?"
Without actually agreeing to this proposal, Tung-pin put up at the same inn with Yün-fang. Now, while the latter was with his own hands attending to the cooking of a meal, Tung-pin, reclining on a pillow, soon became oblivious of his surroundings and fell into a deep sleep.1 He dreamt he went up to the capital as a candidate at the triennial examination and passed at the top of the list. Starting his career as a junior secretary to one of the Boards, he rapidly gained promotion to the Censorate and the Han-lin College, and eventually reached the position of Privy Councillor, having occupied in the course of his unbroken success all the most sought-after and important official posts. Twice he was married, and both wives belonged to families of wealth and position. Children were born to him; and he witnessed his sons take to themselves wives, and his daughters leave the paternal roof for their husband's homes. And all these multitudinous events had happened before he reached the age of 40. Next he found himself Prime Minister for the space of ten years, wielding immense power, and it corrupted him. Then suddenly, without warning, he was accused of a grave crime. His home and all his possessions were confiscated, and his wife and children separated. He himself, a solitary outcast, wandering towards his place of banishment beyond the mountains, found his horse brought to a standstill in a snow-storm, and no longer able to continue the journey.
At this juncture Tung-pin with a heavy sigh waked out of his dream, and lo! the meal was still being prepared. With a laugh Yün-fang sang these words:—
"The yellow millet simmers yet uncooked
While you have journeyed to the Realm of Dreams."
Whereat Tung-pin was much astonished. "Sir," asked he, "pray, what can you know about my dream?" The other replied: "In that dream or yours just now you climbed not only up but also down every rung in the ladder of worldly glory; you both plumbed the uttermost depths of misery and scaled the dizziest heights of splendour. Fifty years were past and gone in the twinkling of an eye. What you gained was not worth rejoicing over, what you lost was not worth grieving about. Some day there will be a Great Awakening, and then we shall know the truth."
From a pedlar of copper ware Lü Tung-pin once brought some pots, which when he had taken home he found all to be made of gold; yet such was his unworldliness that he went in search of the pedlar in order to return them to him.
[During the period of probation as to his fitness to become a hsien Tung-pin underwent a number of ordeals or tests.] Of these the eighth1 in order of time occurred when he bought some magic drugs from a crazy professor of Tao, who used to wander about selling them in the streets, muttering to himself that whoever partook of his wares would instantly die, but would attain Tao in some future existence. The Taoist warned him: "The only thing for you to do now is to make speedy preparation for your death." Yet Tung-pin swallowed the stuff without more ado, and no harm befell him.
The ninth ordeal to which Tung-pin was subjected happened one spring-time when all the country round was flooded, and he in company with the rest of the inhabitants were seeking safety in boats. Just as they reached the middle of the waters a violent storm burst upon them, and the waves rose high, lashed into fury by the wind. All were in a panic except Tung-pin, who remained in his seat calm and unconcerned.
On the tenth occasion Tung-pin was sitting alone in his house, when without warning there appeared to him an innumerable host of demons in weird and terrifying shapes, all seemingly determined to beat him to death. Yet he was not in the least dismayed. Then a sharp word of command came from the sky, and the whole crowd of devils vanished. The voice was followed by some one who, descending from above, clapped his hands and laughed with delight. This turned out to be Yün-fang. "I have subjected you to ten ordeals," said he, "all of which have left you unscathed. There can be no doubt you will succeed in attaining Tao. I will now disclose to you the mysteries of alchemy, in order that the knowledge may enable you to benefit mankind. When for 3,000 years you shall have carried out this meritorious work for the sake of others and thus completed your period of probation, and shall have spent in addition eight centuries in researches on your own behalf, then, and not till then, will come your salvation." Tung-pin asked: "Pray, when1 will my conversion take place?" "Only after 3,000 years shall have passed," the other replied, "will you be restored to the state of your original physical purity." At which Tung-pin coloured up with vexation and exclaimed: "Alas! with the prospect of having to wait 3,000 years, how can I maintain my zeal all those ages?" "Your courage," Yün-fang rejoined with a smile, "will carry you not only over 3,000 years but 3,800."
Next he took Tung-pin to the Crane Ridge, and imparted to him there the profoundest truths and mysteries of Taoism, including the secret of supernatural power. Also he presented him with a small quantity of the "Philosopher's Stone". While these two were thus engaged there arrived upon the scene two hsien, each reverently bearing in both hands a golden tablet, the emblem of his office. They announced to Yün-fang an edict of the Supreme Ruler of the Universe, nominating him guardian of the Golden Gate of the Ninth Heaven; and they added that the world of mortals was but one vast dream (i.e. illusory and impermanent).
Impressed by this incident, spiritual enlightenment came to Tung-pin. So, falling on his knees before Yün-fang, he entreated him for the magic secret of transcending the limitations of this earthly sphere. To try him still further Yün-fang answered: "Your character is not yet fully established. Before you can bring salvation to mankind, many generations shall come and pass away." And having uttered these words he straightway vanished.
After that Tung-pin abandoned his semi-official position as one of the literati for a life of retirement, and it was during this period that Yün-fang subjected him to the ten ordeals.
The first occurred when Tung-pin had returned home after a long journey to find all his household stricken with mortal sickness. Nevertheless, instead of giving himself up to vain sorrow, manfully he set about making preparation on a lavish scale for the funeral, when lo! and behold! they all rose up alive and well.
The second time Tung-pin was put on his trial he was negociating the sale of some of his belongings, and had come to a definite agreement about the price. This notwithstanding, the dealer wished to cancel the bargain and pay only half the stipulated sum. Tung-pin acquiesced, and handing over the goods, walked away, without showing anger or even engaging in dispute.
The third ordeal took place at the time of the New Year. As Tung-pin was leaving his house he was accosted by a beggar demanding alms, to whom he handed both coin and gifts in kind. But the beggar remained dissatisfied, with threats demanding more and making use of the most abusive terms; yet Tung-pin with a smiling face again and again gave him what he asked.
The fourth time Tung-pin was put to the test, he was looking after some sheep in the mountains. A hungry tiger came upon them, with the result that the flock scattered in all directions. But Tung-pin interposed his own person between the tiger and the terrified sheep. The tiger gave up the chase, and slunk away.
The fifth ordeal took place while Tung-pin had retired to a mountain retreat to study books, with no other home than a simple hut of reeds. One day there came to his door a very paragon of feminine grace and loveliness, who scintillated with such beauty that she was positively dazzling. She explained she was a newly married bride on the way to visit her parents, but had lost the road. Would he allow her to rest a short while in his hut? Tung-pin granted her request, and she then tried in endless ways to tempt him from the path of virtue; but all in vain.
Tung-pin's character was put to a test the sixth time when on returning home from a walk in the country he found that during his absence thieves had carried away all his goods and chattels, and left the house bare. Not even then was his equanimity disturbed. He just set himself to earn a livelihood by tilling the ground, and one day when at work with his hoe he unearthed gold pieces to the number of several score. Yet he took not a single one, but quickly covered them all up again.
The seventh trial of Tung-pin was on the occasion of his meeting the hsien Yün-fang, who addressed him thus: "In obedience to the summons of the Supreme Ruler of the Universe I am on the way to present myself before his throne. If you behave virtuously during your abode among men, and thus acquire merit, you will in time reach a plane similar to mine." Bowing again Tung-pin answered: "My aim is not only to emulate you, sir, but to bring salvation to every living creature in this world. Only when this end has been achieved shall I be willing to ascend on high." Yün-fang then gradually rose in the air till he passed out of sight among the clouds.
After Tung-pin had succeeded in mastering Tao as taught by Yün-fang, and the magic sword method of becoming invisible as practised by Huo-lung Chên-jên, he took to wandering along the banks of the Rivers Yangtse and Huai, and testing the power of his magic two-edged sword in order to rid the country of the evil wrought by the chiao dragon, at times becoming invisible to mortal eyes. During the constant journeyings of his last 400 years of life on earth he visited, without being recognized, places so far apart as Hsiang-t‘an2, Yo3, O4, Liang-chê5, P‘ien6, and Ch‘iao. He used to call himself Hui Tao-jên, "the man who reverted to Tao."
During the chêng-ho period of the Sung (A.D. 1111-17) there appeared in the palace demons even in broad daylight, who plundered the treasury of gold and silver, and also kidnapped some of the imperial concubines.
The Emperor purified himself by fasting, and humbly offered supplications to heaven for the space of sixty days without ceasing. One day he fell asleep and saw in his dream standing outside the Tung-hua Gate of the palace a Taoist adept, wearing upon his head a green lotus-cap,1 and upon his back a dark crane's-down robe. In his hand he carried a crystal ju-i.2 Bowing to the Emperor, he said: "Your servant has been sent by the Supreme Ruler of the Universe to control these demons." Then he summoned an officer resplendent in golden armour, who seizing the demons tore them in pieces and swallowed them till none were left. In answer to the Emperor's query as to the identity of this gallant warrior the Taoist replied: "He is no other than Kuan Yü3, whom Your Majesty invested with the title Revered and Immortal Prince." The Emperor thanked the officer repeatedly, and then asked him where was Chang Fei4. Kuan Yü replied: "Every generation Chang Fei becomes reincarnate in the person of some male child. At the present time, in order to serve Your Majesty, he is being reborn in a family called Yo, living at Hsiang Chou."
Asked by the Emperor what was his name, the Taoist replied: "Your servant is called Yang,and was born on the 14th day of the 4th month."
The Emperor awoke from his dream, and having looked up the records, knew that the Taoist was really Tung-pin. Henceforth the demons remained permanently expelled from the palace. An imperial edict ordered that in all the shrines dedicated to Tung-pin throughout China he should be known by the title The Pure One of Subtle Intellect.
To enumerate all the supernatural powers and magic deeds of Tung-pin is an impossibility.
Some years later the father of the future Yo Wu-mu1 had a vivid dream, in which he learnt that it would fall to the lot of this son to be the reincarnation of Chang Fei, and therefore he afterwards named him Fei.
HAN HSIANG TZU
The recognized pao pei of The Philosopher Han Hsiang is a flute. Sometimes he is represented carrying a pair of long castanets, and sometimes a small furnace or crucible in token of his skill as an alchemist. Pictures often show him garbed in the leafy cap and deer-skin kilt worn by hsien; and generally near by is to be seen the peach-tree from which he fell and so ended his mortal existence. With obvious desire to keep on good terms with the Confucianists, Taoist writers and painters have made the most of his relationship with Han Yü, and it is not uncommon to find the famous scholar depicted in close proximity to The Eight Immortals, holding a scroll on which is written his protest against the extravagant honours paid to one of the Buddha's bones by the
T‘ang Emperor Hsien Tsung.
Biography from Lieh hsien chuan, i, 27 seq.:—
The Philosopher Han Hsiang, also known (tzu) as The Pure Sage, was the nephew of Han Wên Kung2. His disposition was wild and irresponsible. He used to wander about in company with The Master Shun-yang.
It was through a fall from a peach-tree that his mortal body died, and he was freed from the bonds of earthly existence (that is to say, became a hsien).
When he paid his uncle a visit, and the latter urged him to apply himself to study, Han Hsiang replied, "You and I have different ideas of study." And in order to make his meaning clear he composed the following lines:—
"In a cave mid mists and torrents by green-clad peaks I live;
I sip the dew at midnight that stars the earth like gems,
I make my food the rosy clouds that flush the coming dawn.
I play the Green Jade Melody upon a seven-stringed lute,
And melt in fiery alembics fine-powdered pearls and white;
Within my Precious Cauldron the Golden Tiger dwells;
I grow the Magic Fungus to feed the Snow-white Crows,
With Nature's creative powers my bottle-gourd is stored,
I slay the evil demons with my magic three-foot blade;
Wine fills the empty goblet when I speak the wizard word,
And flowers spring up and bloom in the twinkling of an eye;
Show me the man who doth these things in the way that I have told,
And I will gladly talk with him of the hsien who ne'er grow old."
Having read the poem Wên Kung exclaimed, "What! can you usurp the creative powers of Nature?" and then handed him an empty goblet, which Han Hsiang successfully caused to become full of excellent wine. Next, a small heap of earth having been scraped together, in a very short time there shot out from it a cluster of blue flowers, from the midst of which was extruded this couplet written in characters of gold:—
"Lost on the far Ch‘in Mountains, I cannot find my way;
Snowdrifts cover the Lan Pass and my horse can do no more."
To Wên Kung, who read it without understanding its meaning, Han Hsiang remarked,
"Some day you will find these words come true."
Not long afterwards Wên Kung was banished to a post at Ch‘ao-chou1, in punishment for the violent remonstrance he addressed to the Emperor about the Buddha's bone.2 While on the road thither a snow-storm overtook him. All at once someone approached, struggling through the storm, who turned out to be Han Hsiang tzu. "Do you remember the couplet in the flowers?" asked he. Wên Kung then inquired what the name of the place was, and was told "the Lan Pass". This struck him dumb with astonishment; and after a while he exclaimed, "I will complete that poem for you."
Han Yü's lines run thus;—
"At dawn a sealed memorial presented to the throne, . . . etc., etc."
They may be found in the published collection of his works.
That night they both stayed at an inn beside the Pass, and Wên Kung satisfied himself that Han Hsiang was no charlatan. At parting Han Hsiang handed the other a calabash full of a drug, one single grain of which, he declared, would, when swallowed, counteract the malarious vapours of the place to which he was journeying. Wên Kung appeared downhearted, so to cheer him up Han Hsiang told him, "You will soon be back again, not only in good health, but also reinstated in your former office." Wên Kung asked, "Shall we two ever meet again after this?" "That I cannot foretell," replied Han Hsiang tzu.
TS‘AO KUO-CHIU
Ts'ao Kuo-chiu is represented as an old bearded man wearing a cap, and, as a rule, carrying a pair of clapper castanets, his distinctive attribute. The tradition that credits him with royal birth and allots him to the eleventh century is considered to be of doubtful authenticity.
Biography from Lieh hsien chuan, ii, 36:—
Ts‘ao Kuo-chiu was the younger brother of the mother2 of one of the Sung emperors. He was so deeply ashamed of the conduct of his younger brother in illegally putting people to death that he sought concealment in a mountain cavern, where he engaged in spiritual meditation and the study of Taoist principles. He wore rustic clothing and a cap of grass-cloth. Frequently he would go without food for ten days at a time.
Once he happened to meet the two hsien Chung-li and Shun-yang,3 who questioned him, saying: "Sir! we have heard you are going in for cultivation. What is it you are cultivating?" He replied: "I am cultivating Tao." They asked: "Where is Tao?" Kuo-chiu pointed up to heaven. "Where is heaven?" they said. Kuo-chiu pointed to his heart. The two hsien remarked, laughing: "Your heart is one with heaven, and heaven is one with Tao. You have indeed arrived at a profound understanding." Then they imparted to him the secret of reverting to a condition in perfect harmony with nature, and induced him to join the company of hsien.
LI T‘IEH-KUAI
y rags, he is the type of that repulsive legion haunting to the present day every city in China, and preying upon a long-suffering public, which is moved to the giving of alms not so much by pity as by feelings of horror and fear. His recognized emblem is the bottle-gourd or calabash that forms part of the equipment of every hsien; and to the gourd is generally added a more distinctive object, his crutch. A mysterious vapour—a kind of fata Morgana—floats upwards from the mouth of the gourd, and in its midst is seen the image of the sage's hun, which may appear in nondescript shape as in our woodcut, or in the guise of a miniature double of his bodily self. Sometimes the hun is replaced by a spherical object representing the "Philosopher's Stone".
Biography from Lieh hsien chuan, i, 12:—
In the form with which nature endowed him, the sage Li T‘ieh-kuai was a fine man of imposing presence.
While yet of tender age he heard Tao. Choosing a mountain cave for his abode, he set himself to the cultivation of mental and physical purity as taught by the Taoists. Li Lao Chün (Lao tzu) and The Master Wan Ch‘iu used often to come down from heaven to visit his rocky hermitage in order to instruct him in the subject of his studies.
One day T‘ieh-kuai was going to meet Lao Chün by appointment on Hua Shan1, and so he gave a pupil of his the following instructions: "My p‘o," said he, will remain here while my hun2 goes upon a journey. If by chance in seven days' time my hun has not returned, you may then burn the p‘o."
The pupil received an urgent message to visit his sick mother, and, impatient of delay, burnt his master's body on the sixth day. The following day in due course T‘ieh-kuai returned to find his p‘o gone, and no habitation left for his hun,1 till he spied lying near by the corpse of one who had died of starvation. Into it the wandering soul entered, giving it new life; and that is the reason why Li T‘ieh-kuai, instead of his original handsome appearance, has now the loathsome shape of a cripple.
LAN TS‘AI-HO
Legend relating to this hsien is so uncertain that even the question of sex seems to be left to the fancy of the artist. Lan Ts‘ai-ho is variously portrayed as a youth, an aged man, or a girl; in modern pictures generally as a girl. The accompanying woodcut seems hardly consistent with the biography it iliustrates; for the text suggests a male, and such, therefore, we will call him. His distinctive emblem is a flower-basket, often carried slung on a hoe over his shoulder. The basket contains various flora associated with ideas of longevity, e.g., the magic fungus2; sprigs of bamboo, of pine,3 and of flowering and leafless plum;1 chrysanthemums;2 and a red-berried plant3 called "myriad years green". Sometimes Lan Ts‘ai-ho is drawn as described in the Lieh hsien chuan—a ragged unkempt being with one foot bare,4 carrying castanets and a string of cash.
Biography from Lieh hsien chuan, ii, 16 seq.:—
Where Lan Ts‘ai-ho came from is not known. His usual garb was a single ragged gown with six black wooden buttons and a waist-belt more than 3 inches wide; on one foot he wore a boot, while the other went bare.5 In summer he had his gown padded with cotton-wool, and in the winter he used to sleep in the snow, and from him there arose clouds of vapour like steam.
Whenever he begged for alms in the public thoroughfares he carried hanging by a string a large pair of castanets more than 3 feet long. When he was drunk he used to sing and caper, so that old and young alike followed to watch him. In a half-crazy way he sang songs, which he improvised as he went along, all of which had meanings relating to hsienship, and were therefore unintelligible to ordinary mortals. On receiving money he used to string the cash upon a piece of cord, which he trailed behind him as he walked. At times the cash would get scattered and lost, leaving the cord bare; but he paid no heed. Sometimes he gave his money to the poor, sometimes he spent it with fellow-tipplers.
He roamed all over China. People when they reached hoary old age noticed that his face and general appearance remained just the same as when they had seen him in their childhood.
Many years had passed, and Lan Ts‘ai-ho was drinking wine in a tavern at Hao-liang, when suddenly the sound of reed-organ and flute was heard, and in a trice he soared up into the sky mounted upon a crane. Having dropped down his shoe, gown, girdle, and castanets, he gradually rose till he passed out of sight.
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