Caricature and Other Comic Art Part 19

"She had all her wits about her, though she quaked a bit with fear.

Said she (the artful wretch!), 'It seems miraculous, my dear!

_Some unseen power impelled me to break the coffin-lid, To see if you were still alive_--which, of course, you know I did!

"'_I felt sure you must be living; so, to welcome you once more, My mourning robes I tore off, and my wedding garments wore; But, were you dead, to guard against all noxious fumes, I quaffed, As a measure of precaution, a disinfecting draught!_'

"Said Chuang, 'Your tale is plausible, but I think you'd better stop; Don't fatigue yourself by telling lies; just let the matter drop.

_To test your faithfulness to me_, I've been merely shamming dead, _I'm the youth you just now married--my widow I've just wed!_'"

Appended to these two poems, there is the regulation moral, in which married ladies are warned not to be too sure of their constancy, nor judge severely the poor widows who make haste to console themselves.

"Do your best, but avoid supercilious pride, For you never can tell what you'll do till you're tried."

We can not say much for the translation of these comic works. Mr. Stent is a high authority in the Chinese language and literature, but is not at home in English prosody. It is plain, however, from his translations, rough as they may be, that there is a comic vein in the Chinese character which finds expression in Chinese literature.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Deaf Mandarin. (From a Figure in the British Museum.)[32]

[Footnote 32: "Malcolm's Caricaturing," plate iv., fig. 9.]]

Caricature, as we might suppose, is a universal practice among them; but, owing to their crude and primitive taste in such things, their efforts are seldom interesting to any but themselves. In Chinese collections, we see numberless grotesque exaggerations of the human form and face, some of which are not devoid of humor and artistic merit; but the specimens given on this and the next page suffice for the present purpose.

The Chinese, it appears, are fond of exhibiting their English visitors in a ridiculous light. The caricature of an English foraging party, given in the first part of this chapter, was brought home thirty years ago by a printer attached to an American mission in China. Recently a new ill.u.s.tration of this propensity has gone abroad. In 1874 an account appeared in the English papers of the audience granted to the foreign ministers by the Emperor of China, in which Mr. Wade, the English emba.s.sador, was represented as having been overwhelmed with awe and alarm in the presence of the august potentate, the Son of Heaven. The origin of the paragraph was explained by the _Athenoeum_:

"The account was absurd in the extreme, and was universally recognized as a squib, except by a writer in the columns of a weekly contemporary, who gravely undertook the task of showing, by reference to the whole of his previous career, how very unlikely it was that Mr. Wade should give way to the weakness imputed to him. It now turns out that the imaginary narrative first appeared in the columns of _Puck_, a comic paper (in English), published at Shanghai; that it was translated into Chinese by some native wag, who palmed it off on his countrymen as a truthful account of the behavior of the English barbarian on this occasion; and that some inquiring foreigner, ignorant of the source from whence it came, retranslated it into English, and held it up as another instance of the way in which the Chinese pamphleteers were attempting to undermine our influence in China by covering our minister with contempt!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: After Dinner. A Chinese Caricature. (From a Figure in the British Museum.)[33]

[Footnote 33: "Malcolm's Caricaturing," plate iv., fig. 3.]]

The burlesque which thus imposed upon a London editor was a creditable specimen of _Puck's_ comic talent: "His majesty having ascended the throne, the envoys were led to the s.p.a.ce at its foot, when they performed the ceremony of inclining the body. They did not kneel. By the side of the steps there was placed a yellow table, and the envoys stood in rank to read out their credentials, the British having the leading place. When he had read a few sentences, he began to tremble from head to foot, and was incapable of completing the perusal. The emperor asked, 'Is the prince of your country well?' But he could utter no reply. The emperor again asked, 'You have besought permission to see me time and time again. What is it you have to say?' But again he was unable to make an answer. The next proceeding was to hand in the credentials; but, in doing this, he fell down on the ground time after time, and not a syllable could he articulate. Upon this Prince Kung laughed loud at him before the entire court, exclaimed 'Chicken-feather!' and gave orders to have him a.s.sisted down the steps. He was unable to move of his own accord, and sat down on the floor, perspiring and panting for breath.

The whole twelve shook their heads and whispered together no one knows what. When the time came for the a.s.sembly at the banquet, they still remained incapable, and dispersed in hurried confusion. Prince Kung said to them, 'You would not believe that it is no light matter to come face to face with his majesty; but what have you got to say about it to-day?'"

CHAPTER XVII.

COMIC ART IN j.a.pAN.

The bright, good-tempered people of j.a.pan are familiar with humor in many forms, and know how to sport with pencil as well as with pen. Their very sermons are not devoid of the jocular. When a preacher has pointed his moral by a comical tale, he will turn to the audience in the most familiar, confidential manner, and say, "Now, isn't that a funny story?"

or, "Wasn't that delightful?" Sometimes he will half apologize for the introduction of mirth-moving anecdotes: "Now, my sermons are not written for the learned. I address myself to farmers and tradesmen, who, hard pressed by their daily business, have no time for study.... Now, positively you must not laugh if I introduce a light story now and then.

Levity is not my object; I only want to put things in a plain and easy manner."[34] Nothing yet brought from that country is more interesting to us than the specimens given in Mr. Mitford's book of the short, homely, humorous, sound j.a.panese sermons. The existence of this work is another proof of the wisdom of giving consular and diplomatic appointments to men who know how to use their eyes, their hands, and their minds. The sumptuous work upon j.a.pan by M. Aime Humbert could scarcely have been produced if the author had not been at the head of a powerful emba.s.sy.

[Footnote 34: "Tales of Old j.a.pan," vol. ii., p. 138, by A. W. Mitford, Secretary of the British Legation in j.a.pan, London, 1874.]

The j.a.panese are a gentler and kindlier people than the Chinese; women occupy a better position among them; and hence the allusions to the s.e.x in their literature are less contemptuous and satirical. The preacher whose sermons Mr. Mitford selects for translation is what we should term an eclectic--one who owns fealty to none of the great religions of the East, but gleans lessons of truth and wisdom from them all. Imagine him clad in gorgeous robes of red and white, attended by an acolyte, entering a chapel--a s.p.a.cious, pleasant apartment which opens into a garden--bowing to the sacred picture over the altar, and taking a seat at a table. Some prayers are intoned, incense is burned, offerings are received, a pa.s.sage from a sacred book is read, a cup of tea is quaffed, and then the preacher rises and begins his chatty, humorous, anecdotical discourse. Whenever he makes a point, the audience utters a responsive "Nimmiyo," varying the sound so as to accord with the sentiment expressed by the speaker. Indeed, it would be difficult to name one rite, or observance, or custom, or eccentricity of religion practiced among us here in the United States, the counterpart of which has not been familiar to the j.a.panese from time immemorial. They have sacred books, a peculiar cross, liturgies, temples, acolytes, nunneries, monasteries, holy water, incense, prayers, sermons, collections, the poor-box, responses, priestly robes, the bell, a series of ceremonies strongly resembling the ma.s.s, followed by a sermon, sacred pictures, anointing, shaven crowns, sects, orders, and systems of theology.

Their sermons abound in parables and similes. The preacher just mentioned ill.u.s.trates his points with amusing ingenuity. For example, in a sermon on the folly of putting excessive trust in wealth, strength, or any other advantage merely external or transitory, he relates a parable of a sh.e.l.l-fish--the sazaye--noted for the extreme hardness of its sh.e.l.l. One day, just after a large sazaye had been vaunting his perfect security against the dangers to which other fish were exposed, there came a great splash in the water. "Mr. Sazaye," continued the preacher, "shut his lid as quickly as possible, kept quite still, and thought to himself what in the world the noise could be. Could it be a net? Could it be a fish-hook? Were the tai and the other fish caught? he wondered; and he felt quite anxious about them. However, at any rate, _he_ was safe. And so the time pa.s.sed; and when he thought all was over, he stealthily opened his sh.e.l.l, and slipped out his head and looked all round him, and there seemed to be something wrong--something with which he was not familiar. As he looked a little more carefully, lo and behold! there he was in a fish-monger's shop, and with a card, marked 'Sixteen Cash,' on his back.

"Isn't that a funny story?" cries the jovial preacher, smiling complacently upon the congregation. "Poor sh.e.l.l-fis.h.!.+ I think there are people not unlike him to be found _in China and India_." This is a favorite joke with the preacher. He frequently closes a satirical pa.s.sage by a similar remark. "I don't mean to say that there are any such persons _here_. Oh no. Still, there are plenty of them to be found--say, for instance, in the back streets of India."

The tone of this merry instructor in righteousness when he is speaking of women is that of a tender father toward children. He a.s.sumes that "women _and_ children" can not understand any thing profound and philosophical. Righteousness he defines as "the fitting," the ought-to-be; and he considers it "fitting" that women should be the a.s.siduous, respectful, and ever-obedient servants of men. A parable ill.u.s.trates his meaning. A great preacher of old was once the guest of a rich man of low rank, who was "particularly fond of sermons," and had a lovely daughter of fifteen, who waited upon the preacher at dinner, and entertained him afterward upon the harp. "Really," said the learned preacher, "it must be a very difficult thing to educate a young lady up to such a pitch as this." The flattered parents, could not refrain from boasting of their daughter's accomplishments--her drawing, painting, singing, and flower-plaiting. The wily preacher, Socrates-like, rejoined: "This is something quite out of the common run. _Of course_ she knows how to rub the shoulders and loins, and has learned the art of shampooing?" This remark offends the fond father. "I have not fallen so low as to let my daughter learn shampooing!" The preacher blandly advises him not to put himself in a pa.s.sion, and proceeds to descant upon the Whole Duty of Woman, as understood in j.a.pan. "She must look upon her husband's parents as her own. If her honored father-in-law or mother-in-law fall ill, her being able to plait flowers and paint pictures and make tea will be of no use in the sick-room. To shampoo her parents-in-law, and nurse them affectionately, without employing a shampooer or servant-maid, is the right path of a daughter-in-law." Upon hearing these words, the father sees his error, and blushes with shame; whereupon the preacher admits that music and painting are not bad in themselves, only they must not be pursued to the exclusion of things more important, of which shampooing is one.

He draws a sad picture of a wife who has learned nothing but the graceful arts. Before the bottom of the family kettle is scorched black the husband will be sick of his bargain--a wife all untidy about the head, her ap.r.o.n fastened round her as a girdle, a baby twisted somehow into the bosom of her dress, and nothing in the house to eat but some wretched bean-soup, and that bought at a store. "What a ten-million-times miserable thing it is when parents, making their little girls hug a great guitar, listen with pleasure to the poor little things playing on instruments big enough for them to climb upon, and squeaking out songs in their shrill treble voices!" Such girls, if not closely watched, will be prematurely falling in love and running away to be married.

These sermons are so curiously different from any thing which we are accustomed to think of as sermons that I am tempted to extract the conclusion of one of them. The text is a pa.s.sage from "Mos.h.i.+," which touches upon the folly of men in being more ashamed of a bodily defect than of a moral fault. Mark how the merry j.a.panese preacher "improves"

the subject:

"What mistaken and bewildered creatures men are! What says the old song?

'Hidden far among the mountains, the tree which seems to be rotten, if its _core_ be yet alive, may be made to bear flowers.' What signifies it if the hand or the foot be deformed? The heart is the important thing.

If the heart be awry, what though your skin be fair, your nose aquiline, your hair beautiful? All these strike the eye alone, and are utterly useless. It is as if you were to put horse-dung into a gold-lacquer luncheon-box. This is what is called a fair outside, deceptive appearance.

"There's the scullery-maid been was.h.i.+ng out the pots at the kitchen-sink, and the scullion, Chokichi, comes up and says to her, 'You've got a lot of charcoal s.m.u.t sticking to your nose,' and points out to her the ugly spot. The scullery-maid is delighted to be told of this, and answers, 'Really! whereabouts is it?" Then she twists a towel round her finger, and, bending her head till mouth, and forehead are almost on a level, she squints at her nose, and twiddles away with her fingers as if she were the famous Goto at work carving the ornaments of a sword-handle. 'I say, Master Chokichi, is it off yet?' 'Not a bit of it. You've smeared it all over your cheeks now.' 'Oh dear! oh dear!

where can it be?' And so she uses the water-basin as a looking-gla.s.s, and washes her face clean; then she says to herself, 'What a dear boy Chokichi is!' and thinks it necessary, out of grat.i.tude, to give him relishes with his supper by the ladleful, and thanks him over and over again. But if this same Chokichi were to come up to her and say, 'Now, really, how lazy you are! I wish you could manage to be rather less of a shrew,' what do you think the scullery-maid would answer then? Reflect for a moment. 'Drat the boy's impudence! If I were of a bad heart or an angular disposition, should I be here helping him? You go and be hanged!

You see if I take the trouble to wash your dirty bedclothes for you any more.' And she gets to be a perfect devil, less only the horns.

"There are other people besides the poor scullery-maid who are in the same way. 'Excuse me, Mr. Gundabei, but the embroidered crest on your dress of ceremony seems to be a little on one side.' Mr. Gundabei proceeds to adjust his dress with great precision. 'Thank you, sir. I am ten million times obliged to you for your care. If ever there should be any matter in which I can be of service to you, I beg that you will do me the favor of letting me know;' and, with a beaming face, he expresses his grat.i.tude. Now for the other side of the picture: 'Really, Mr.

Gundabei, you are very foolish; you don't seem to understand at all. I beg you to be of a frank and honest heart: it really makes me quite sad to see a man's heart warped in this way.' What is his answer? He turns his sword in his girdle ready to draw, and plays the devil's tattoo upon the hilt. It looks as if it must end in a fight soon.

"In fact, if you help a man in any thing which has to do with a fault of the body, he takes it very kindly, and sets about mending matters. If any one helps another to rectify a fault of the heart, he has to deal with a man in the dark, who flies in a rage, and does not care to amend.

How out of tune all this is! And yet there are men who are bewildered up to this point. Nor is this a special and extraordinary failing. This mistaken perception of the great and the small, of color and of substance, is common to us all--to you and to me.

"Please give me your attention. The form strikes the eye; but the heart strikes not the eye. Therefore, that the heart should be distorted and turned awry causes no pain. This all results from the want of sound judgment; and that is why we can not afford to be careless.

"The master of a certain house calls his servant Chokichi, who sits dozing in the kitchen. 'Here, Chokichi! The guests are all gone. Come and clear away the wine and fish in the back room.'

"Chokichi rubs his eyes, and, with a sulky answer, goes into the back room, and, looking about him, sees all the nice things paraded on the trays and in the bowls. It's wonderful how his drowsiness pa.s.ses away: no need for any one to hurry him now. His eyes glare with greed, as he says, 'Halloo! here's a lot of tempting things! There's only just one help of that omelet left in the tray. What a hungry lot of guests!

What's this? It looks like fish rissoles;' and with this he picks out one, and crams his mouth full, when, on one side, a mess of young cuttle-fish, in a Chinese porcelain bowl, catches his eyes. There the little beauties sit in a circle, like Buddhist priests in religious meditation! 'Oh, goodness! how nice!' and just as he is dipping his finger and thumb in, he hears his master's footstep, and, knowing that he is doing wrong, he crams his prize into the pocket of his sleeve, and stoops down to take away the wine-kettle and cups; and as he does this, out tumbles the cuttle-fish from his sleeve. The master sees it.

"'What's that?'

"Chokichi, pretending not to know what has happened, beats the mats, and keeps on saying, 'Come again the day before yesterday; come again the day before yesterday.' [An incantation used to invite spiders, which are considered unlucky by the superst.i.tious, to come again at the Greek Kalends.]

"But it's no use his trying to persuade his master that the little cuttle-fish are spiders, for they are not the least like them. It's no use hiding things--they are sure to come to light; and so it is with the heart--its purposes will out. If the heart is enraged, the dark veins stand out on the forehead; if the heart is grieved, tears rise to the eyes; if the heart is joyous, dimples appear in the cheeks; if the heart is merry, the face smiles. Thus it is that the face reflects the emotions of the heart. It is not because the eyes are filled with tears that the heart is sad, nor that the veins stand out on the forehead that the heart is enraged. It is the heart which leads the way in every thing. All the important sensations of the heart are apparent in the outward appearance. In the 'Great Learning' of Kos.h.i.+ it is written, 'The truth of what is within appears upon the surface.' How, then, is the heart a thing which can be hidden? To answer when reproved, to hum tunes when scolded, show a diseased heart; and if this disease be not quickly taken in hand, it will become chronic, and the remedy become difficult.

Perhaps the disease may be so virulent that even Giba and Henjaku [two famous Indian physicians] in consultation could not effect a cure. So, before the disease has gained strength, I invite you to the study of the moral essays ent.i.tled 's.h.i.+ngaku' [the "Learning of the Heart"]. If you once arrive at the possession of your heart as it was originally by nature, what an admirable thing that will be! In that case your conscience will point out to you even the slightest wrong bias or selfishness.

"While upon this subject, I may tell you a story which was related to me by a friend of mine. It is a story which the master of a certain money-changer's shop used to be very fond of telling. An important part of a money-changer's business is to distinguish between good and bad gold and silver. In the different establishments, the ways of teaching the apprentices this art vary; however, the plan adopted by the money-changer was as follows: at first he would show them no bad silver, but would daily put before them good money only; when they had become thoroughly familiar with the sight of good money, if he stealthily put a little base coin among the good, he found that they would detect it immediately. They saw it as plainly as you see things when you throw light on a mirror. This faculty of detecting base money at a glance was the result of having learned thoroughly to understand good money. Having been taught once in this way, the apprentices would not make a mistake about a piece of base coin during their whole lives, as I have heard. I can't vouch for the truth of this; but it is very certain that the principle, applied to moral instruction, is an excellent one--it is a most safe mode of study. However, I was further told that if, after having thus learned to distinguish good money, a man followed some other trade for six months or a year, and gave up handling money, he would become just like any other inexperienced person, unable to distinguish the good from the base.

"Please reflect upon this attentively. If you once render yourself familiar with the nature of the uncorrupted heart, from that time forth you will be immediately conscious of the slightest inclination toward bias or selfishness. And why? Because the natural heart is illumined.

When a man has once learned that which is perfect, he will never consent to accept that which is imperfect; but if, after having acquired this knowledge, he again keeps his natural heart at a distance, and gradually forgets to recognize that which is perfect, he finds himself in the dark again, and that he can no longer distinguish base money from good. I beg you to take care. If a man falls into bad habits, he is no longer able to perceive the difference between the good impulses of his natural heart and the evil impulses of his corrupt heart. With this benighted heart as a starting-point, he can carry out none of his intentions, and he has to lift his shoulders, sighing and sighing again. A creature much to be pitied indeed! Then he loses all self-reliance, so that, although it would be better for him to hold his tongue and say nothing about it, if he is in the slightest trouble or distress he goes and confesses the crookedness of his heart to every man he meets. What a wretched state for a man to be in! For this reason, I beg you to learn thoroughly the true silver of the heart, in order that you may make no mistake about the base coin. I pray that you and I, during our whole lives, may never leave the path of true principles.

"I have an amusing story to tell you in connection with this, if you will be so good as to listen.

"Once upon a time, when the autumn nights were beginning to grow chilly, five or six tradesmen in easy circ.u.mstances had a.s.sembled together to have a chat; and, having got ready their picnic-box and wine-flask, went off to a temple on the hills, where a friendly priest lived, that they might listen to the stags roaring. With this intention they went to call upon the priest, and borrowed the guests' apartments [all the temples in China and j.a.pan have guests' apartments, which may be secured for a trifle, either for a long or short period. It is false to suppose that there is any desecration of a sacred shrine in the act of using it as a hostelry: it is the custom of the country] of the monastery; and as they were waiting to hear the deer roar, some of the party began to compose poetry. One would write a verse of Chinese poetry, and another would write a verse of seventeen syllables; and as they were pa.s.sing the wine-cup the hour of sunset came, but not a deer had uttered a call; eight o'clock came, and ten o'clock came; still not a sound from the deer.

"'What can this mean?' said one. 'The deer surely ought to be roaring.'

"But, in spite of their waiting, the deer would not roar. At last the friends got sleepy, and, bored with writing songs and verses, began to yawn, and gave up twaddling about the woes and troubles of life; and as they were all silent, one of them, a man fifty years of age, stopping the circulation of the wine-cup, said: