The mourning color of The manner of grieving for our departed friends in China, is very different from that of Europe. Europe is black; that of China white. tion dies here, for they seldom mourn for friends, it is only clapping on a suit of sables, grimacing it for a few days, and all, soon forgotten, goes on as before; not a single creature missing the deceased, except, perhaps, a favorite housekeeper or a favorite cat. On the contrary, with us in China it is a very serious affair. The piety with which I have seen you behave on one of these occasions should never be forgotten. I remember it was upon the death of thy grandmother's maiden-sister. The coffin was exposed in the principal hall in public view: before it were placed the figures of eunuchs, horses, tortoises, and other animals, in attitudes of grief and respect. The more distant relations of the old lady, and I among the number, came to pay our compliments of condolence, and to salute the deceased after the manner of our country. We had scarcely presented our wax candles and perfumes, and given the howl of departure," when, crawling on his belly from under a curtain, out came the reverend Fum Hoam himself, in all the dismal solemnity of distress. Your looks were set for sorrow; your clothing consisted of a hempen bag tied round the *["When a parent or elder relation among the Chinese dies, the lineal descendants, clothed in white cloth, with bandages of the same color round their heads, sit weeping round the corpse on the ground, the women keeping up a dismal howl, after the manner of the Irish."-Chinese, vol. i. p. 295.] neck with a string. For two long months did this mourning continue. By night you lay stretched on a single mat, and sat on the stool of discontent by day. Pious man! who could thus set an example of sorrow and decorum to our country Pious country where, if we do not grieve at the departure of our friend for their sakes, at least we are taught to regret them for our own. All is very different here; amazement all! What sort of a people am I got amongst? Fum, thou son of Fo, what sort of people am I got amongst? No crawling round the coffin; not dressing up in hempen bags; no lying on mats, or sitting on stools! Gentlemen here shall put on first mourning, with as sprightly an air as if preparing for a birth-night; and widows. shall actually dress for another husband in their weeds for the former. The best jest of all is, that our merry mourners clap bits of muslin on their sleeves, and these are called weepers. Weeping muslin! alas, alas, very sorrowful truly! These weepers then, it seems, are to bear the whole burthen of the distress. But I have had the strongest instance of this contrast, this tragi-comical behavior in distress, upon a recent occasion. Their king, whose departure though sudden was not unexpected, died after a reign of many years! His age and uncertain state of health served, in some measure, to diminish the sorrow of his subjects; and their expectations from his successor, seemed to balance their minds between uneasiness and satisfaction. But, how ought they to have behaved on such an occasion? Surely, they ought rather to have endeavored to testify their gratitude to their deceased friend, than to proclaim their hopes of the future! Sure, even the successor must suppose their love to wear the face of adulation, which so quickly changed the object! However, [George the Second, who died October 25, 1760, in the seventy-seventh year of his age, and the thirty-fourth of his reign.] the very same day on which the old king died, they made rejoic ing for the new. For my part, I have no conception of this new manner of mourning and rejoicing in a breath; of being merry and sad; of mixing a funeral procession with a jig and a bonfire. At least, it would have been just, that they who flattered the king while living for virtues which he had not, should lament him dead for those he really had. In this universal cause for national distress, as I had no interest myself, so it is but natural to suppose, I felt no real affliction. "In all the losses of our friends," says a European philosopher, we first consider how much our own welfare is affected by their departure, and moderate our grief just in the same proportion.* Now, as I had neither received nor expected to receive favors from kings or their flatterers; as I had no acquaintance in particular with their late monarch; as I know that the place of a king is soon supplied; and as the Chinese proverb has it, that though the world may sometimes want cobblers to mend their shoes, there is no danger of its wanting emperors to rule their kingdoms; from such considerations, I could bear the loss of a king with the most philosophic resignation. However, I thought it my duty at least to appear sorrowful; to put on a melancholy aspect, or to set my face by that of the people. The first company I came amongst after the news became general, was a set of jolly companions, who were drinking prosperity to the ensuing reign. I entered the room with looks of despair, and even expected applause for the superlative misery of * ["Dans l'adversité de nos meilleurs amis, nous trouvons toujours quelquechose qui ne nous déplait pas."-Rochefoucault. "In all distresses of our friends, We first consult our private ends; While nature, kindly bent to ease us, Points out some circumstance to please us."-Swift.] my countenance. Instead of that, I was universally condemned by the company for a grimacing son of a whore, and desired to take away my penitential phiz to some other quarter. I now corrected my former mistake, and, with the most sprightly air imaginable, entered a company, where they were talking over the ceremonies of the approaching funeral. Here I sat for some time with an air of pert vivacity; when one of the chief mourners immediately observing my good humor, desired me, if I pleased, to go and grin somewhere else; they wanted no disaf feated scoundrels there. Leaving this company, therefore, I was resolved to assume a look perfectly neutral; and have ever since been studying the fashionable air; something between jest and earnest; a complete virginity of face, uncontaminated with the smallest symptom of meaning. But though grief be a very slight affair here, the mourning, my friend, is a very important concern. When an emperor dies in China, the whole expense of the solemnities is defrayed from the royal coffers. When the great die here, mandarines are ready enough to order mourning; but I do not see they are so ready to pay for it. If they send me down from court the gray undress frock, or the black coat without pocket holes, I am willing enough to comply with their commands, and wear both; but by the head of Confucius! to be obliged to wear black, and buy it into the bargain, is more than my tranquillity of temper can bear. What! order me to wear mourning, before they know whether I can buy it or no! Fum, thou son of Fo, what sort of a people am I amongst; where being out of black is a certain symptom of poverty; where those who have miserable faces cannot have mourning, and those who have mourning will not wear a miserable face? LETTER XCVII. ALMOST EVERY SUBJECT OF LITERATURE HAS BEEN ALREADY EXHAUSTED. From the same. It is usual for the booksellers here, when a book has given universal pleasure upon one subject, to bring out several more upon the same plan; which are sure to have purchasers and readers, from that desire which all men have to view a pleasing object on every side. The first performance serves rather to awaken than satisfy attention; and, when that is once moved, the slightest effort serves to continue its progression: the merit of the first diffuses a light sufficient to illuminate the succeeding efforts; and no other subject can be relished, till that is exhausted. A stupid work coming thus immediately in the train of an applauded performance, weans the mind from the object of its pleasure; and resembles the sponge thrust into the mouth of a discharged culverin, in order to adapt it for a new explosion. This manner, however, of drawing off a subject, or a peculiar mode of writing to the dregs, effectually precludes a revival of that subject or manner for some time for the future; the sated reader turns from it with a kind of literary nausea, and though the titles of books are the part of them most read, yet he has scarcely perseverance enough to wade through the title-page. Of this number I own myself one. I am now grown callous to several subjects, and different kinds of composition. Whether such originally pleased I will not take upon me to determine: but at present I spurn a new book merely upon seeing its name in an advertisement; nor have the smallest curiosity to look beyond the first leaf, even though in the second the author promises his own face "neatly engraved on copper." |