remarkable, books I have ever seen.
A T'ao is two or any number of
volumes of a book wrapped in a
single cover. In this case it was two
volumes. In the inside of
the cover there was a
depression three inches square in which was
kept a piece of lead, wood or pasteboard, divided into fifteen
pieces as in the following
illustration.
These blocks are all in pairs except one, which is a rhomboid.
They are all exactly
proportional, having their sides either
half-inch, inch, inch and a half, or two inches in length.
They are not used as are the blocks in our kindergarten
simply to make geometrical figures, but rather to
illustratesuch facts of history as will have a moral influence, or be an
intellectual
stimulus to the child.
He may build houses with them, or make such ancient or
modern ornaments, or household utensils, as may suit his
fancy; but the
primary object of the blocks and the books,
is to
impress upon the child's mind, in the most forcible
way possible, the leading facts of history,
poetry, mythology
or morals; while the houses, boats and other things are
simply side issues.
The first
illustration the child
constructed for me, for I
desired him to teach me how it was done, was a
dragon horse, and
when I asked him to explain it, he said that it represented the
animal seen by Fu Hsi, the original
ancestor of the Chinese
people, emerging from the Meng river,
bearing upon its back a map
on which were fifty-five spots, representing the male and female
principles of nature, and which the sage used to
construct what
are called the eight diagrams.
The child tossed the blocks off into a pile and then
constructed
a
tortoise which he said was seen by Yu, the Chinese Noah, coming
out of the Lo river, while he was draining off the floods. On its
back was a design which he used as a pattern for the nine
divisions of his empire.
These two incidents are referred to by Confucius, and are among
the first
learned by every Chinese child.
I looked through the book and noticed that many of the
designs were for the
amusement of the children, as well
as to develop their
ingenuity. In the two
volumes of the
T'ao he had only the outlines of the pictures which he
readilyconstructed with the blocks. But he had with him
also a small
volume which was a key to the designs having
lines indicating how each block was placed. This he had
purchased for a few cash. Much of the interest of the book,
however, attached to the puzzling
character of the pictures.
There was one with a verse attached somewhat like the following:
The old wife drew a chess-board
On the cover of a book,
While the child transformed a needle
Into a fishing-hook.
Chinese
literature is full of examples of men and women
who
applied themselves to their books with untiring
diligence. Some tied their hair to the beam of their humble
cottage so that when they nodded with sleepiness the jerk
would awake them and they might return to their books.
Others slept upon globular pillows that when they
became so
restless as to move and cause the pillow to roll
from under their head they might get up and study.
The child once more took the blocks and
illustrated how one who
was so poor as to be
unable to furnish himself with candles,
confined a fire-fly in a gauze
lantern using that instead of a
lamp. At the same time he explained that another who was perhaps
not able to afford the gauze
lantern,
studied by the light of a
glowworm.
"K'ang Heng," said the child, as he put the blocks together in a
new form, "had a still better way, as well as more economical.
His house was built of clay, and as the window of his neighbor's
house was immediately opposite, he chiseled a hole through his
wall and thus took
advantage of his neighbor's light.
"Sun K'ang's method was very good for winter," continued the
child as he rearranged the blocks, "but I do not know what he
would do in summer. He
studied by the light reflected from the
snow.
"Perhaps," he went on as he changed the form, "he followed
the example of another who
studied by the pale light of the
moon."
"What does that represent?" I asked him pointing to a child with
a bowl in his hand who looked as if he might have been going to
the grocer's.
"Oh, that boy is going to buy wine."
The Chinese have never yet realized what a national evil
liquor may become. They have little wine shops in the
great cities, but they have no drinking houses corresponding
to the
saloon, and it is not
uncommon to see a child going
to the wine shop to fetch a bowl of wine. The Buddhist
priest indulges with the same
moderation as the official class
or
gentry. Indeed most of the
drunkenness we read about
in Chinese books is that of poets and philosophers, and in
them it is, if not commended, at least not condemned.
The attitude of
literature towards them is much like that of
Thackeray towards the gentlemen of his day.
The child
constructed the picture of a Buddhist
priest, who, with
staff in hand, and a mug of wine, was viewing the beautiful
mountains in the distance. He then changed it to one in which an
intoxicated man was leaning on a boy's shoulder, the
inscriptionto which said: "Any one is
willing to
assist a
drunken man to
return home."
"This," he went on as he changed his blocks, "is a picture of Li
Pei, China's greatest poet. He lived more than a thousand years
ago. This represents the closing scene in his life. He was
crossing the river in a boat, and in a
drunken effort to
get the moon's
reflection from the water, he fell overboard
and was drowned." The child
pointed to the sail at the
same time, repeating the following:
The sail being set,
He tried to get,
The moon from out the main.
I noticed a large number of boat scenes and induced the
child to
construct some of them for me, which he was quite
willing to do, explaining them as he went as
readily as our
children would explain Old Mother Hubbard or the Old
Woman who Lived in her Shoe, by
seeing the
illustrations.
Constructing one he
repeated a verse somewhat like the following:
Alone the
fisherman sat,
In his boat by the river's brink,
In the chill and cold and snow,
To fish, and fish, and think.
Then he turned over to two on opposite pages, and as he
constructed them he
repeated in turn:
In a
stream ten thousand li in length
He bathes his feet at night,
While on a mount he waves his arms,
Ten thousand feet in height.
The ten thousand li in one couplet corresponds to the
ten thousand feet in the other, while the bathing of the
feet corresponds to the waving of the arms. Couplets of
this kind are always
attractive to the Chinese child as well
as to the
scholar, and poems and essays are replete with
such
constructions.
The child enjoyed making the pictures. I tried to make
one, but found it very difficult. I was not familiar with the
blocks. It is different now, I have
learned how to make
them. Then it seemed as if it would be impossible ever to
do so. When I had failed to make the picture I turned them
over to him. In a moment it was done.
"Who is it?" I asked.
"Chang Ch'i, the poet," he answered. "Whenever he went for a walk
he took with him a child who carried a bag in which to put the
poems he happened to write. In this
illustration he stands with
his head bent forward and his hands behind his back lost in
thought, while the lad stands near with the bag."
We have given in another chapter the story of the great
traveller, Chang Ch'ien, and his search for the source of the
Yellow River.
In one of the
illustrations the child represented him in his boat
in a way not very different from that of the artist.
Another
quotation from one of the poets was
illustrated as
follows:
Last night a meeting I arranged,
Ere I my lamp did light,
Nor while I crossed the ferry feared,
Or wind or rain or night.
The child's eyes sparkled as he turned to some of those
illustrating children at play, and as he
constructed one which
represents two children swinging their arms and running,
he
repeated:
See the children at their
play,
Gathering flowers by the
way.
"They are
gathering pussy-willows," he added.
In another he represented a child
standing before the
front gate, where he had knocked in vain to gain admission.
As he completed it he said, pointing to the apricot
over the door:
Ten times he knocked upon the gate,
But nine, they opened not,
Above the wall he
plainly saw,
A ripe, red apricot.
He continued to represent
quotations from the poets and explain
them as he went along.
There was one which indicated that some one was ascending
the steps to the jade
platform on which the dust had settled
as it does on everything in Peking; at the same time the
verse told us that
Step by step we reach the
platform,
All of jade of purest green,
Call a child to come and sweep it,
But he cannot sweep it clean.
"You know," he went on, "the
cottages of many of the
poets were near the beautiful lakes in central China, in the
wild heights of the mountains, or upon the banks of some
flowing
stream. In this one the
pavilion of the poet is on
the bank of the river, and we are told that,
In his
cottage sat the poet
Thinking, as the moon went by,
That the
moonlight on the water,
Made the water like the sky."
Changing it somewhat he made a
cottage of a different kind. This
was not made for the picture's sake, but to
illustrate a sentence
it was designed to
impress upon the child's mind. The
quotationis somewhat as follows:
The ringing of the evening bells,
The moon a
crescent splendid,
The rustling of the swallow's wings
Betoken winter ended.
The child looked up at me significantly as he turned to
one which represented a Buddhist
priest. I expected something of
a joke at the
priest's expense as in the
nursery rhymes and
games, but there was none. That would
injure the sale of the
book. The
inscription told us that "a Buddhist
lantern will
reflect light enough to
illuminate the whole universe."