The Chinese Wonder Book. Norman Hinsdale Pitman

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      “Yes,” replied the other quickly, “if they be like those worn by the little island dwarfs, and, therefore, made of wood. Bells and cannon are cast from similar material. You ought easily to adapt yourself to this new work.”

      Now when Guanyou’s daughter found out what he was about to undertake, she was filled with a great fear.

      “Oh, honored father,” she cried, “think well before you give this promise. As a cannon- maker you are successful, but who can say about the other task? And if you fail, the Great One’s wrath will fall heavily upon you.”

      “Just hear the girl,” interrupted the ambitious mother. “What do you know about success and failure? You’d better stick to the subject of cooking and baby-clothes, for you will soon be married. As for your father, pray let him attend to his own business. It is unseemly for a girl to meddle in her father’s affairs.”

      And so poor Ke’ai—for that was the maiden’s name—was silenced, and went back to her fancy-work with a big tear stealing down her fair cheek, for she loved her father dearly and there had come into her heart a strange terror at thought of his possible danger.

      Meanwhile, Guanyou was summoned to the Forbidden City, which is in the center of Beijing, and in which stands the imperial palace. There he received his instructions from the Son of Heaven.

      “And remember,” said Yongluo in conclusion, “this bell must be so great that the sound of it will ring out to a distance of thirty-three miles on every hand. To this end, you should add in proper proportions gold and brass, for they give depth and strength to everything with which they mingle. Furthermore, in order that this giant may not be lacking in the quality of sweetness, you must add silver in due proportion, while the sayings of the sages must be graven on its sides.”

      Now when Guanyou had really received his commission from the emperor he searched the bookstalls of the city to find if possible some ancient descriptions of the best methods used in bell-casting. Also he offered generous wages to all who had ever had experience in the great work for which he was preparing. Soon his great foundry was alive with laborers; huge fires were burning; great piles of gold, silver and other metals were lying here and there, ready to be weighed.

      Whenever Guanyou went out to a public tea-house all of his friends plied him with questions about the great bell.

      “Will it be the largest in the world?”

      “Oh, no,” he would reply, “that is not necessary, but it must be the sweetest-toned, for we Chinese strive not for size, but for purity; not for greatness, but for virtue.”

      “When will it be finished?”

      “Only the gods can tell, for I have had little experience, and perhaps I shall fail to mix the metals properly.”

      Every few days the Son of Heaven himself would send an imperial messenger to ask similar questions, for a king is likely to be just as curious as his subjects, but Guanyou would always modestly reply that he could not be certain; it was very doubtful when the bell would be ready.

      At last, however, after consulting an astrologer, Guanyou appointed a day for the casting, and then there came another courtier robed in splendid garments, saying that at the proper hour the Great One himself would for the first time cross Guanyou’s threshold—would come to see the casting of the bell he had ordered for his people. On hearing this, Guanyou was sore afraid, for he felt that somehow, in spite of all his reading, in spite of all the advice he had received from well-wishers, there was something lacking in the mixture of the boiling metals that would soon be poured into the giant mold. In short, Guanyou was about to discover an important truth that this great world has been thousands of years in learning—namely, that mere reading and advice cannot produce skill, that true skill can come only from years of experience and practice. On the brink of despair, he sent a servant with money to the temple, to pray to the gods for success in his venture. Truly, despair and prayer rhyme in every language.

      Ke’ai, his daughter, was also afraid when she saw the cloud on her father’s brow, for she it was, you remember, who had tried to prevent him from undertaking the emperor’s commission. She also went to the temple, in company with a faithful old servant, and prayed to heaven.

      The great day dawned. The emperor and his courtiers were assembled, the former sitting on a platform built for the occasion. Three attendants waved beautiful hand-painted fans about his imperial brow, for the room was very warm, and a huge block of ice lay melting in a bowl of carved brass, cooling the hot air before it should blow upon the head of the Son of Heaven.

      Guanyou’s wife and daughter stood in a corner at the back of the room, peering anxiously towards the cauldron of molten liquid, for well they knew that Guanyou’s future rank and power depended on the success of this enterprise. Around the walls stood Guanyou’s friends, and at the windows groups of excited servants strained their necks, trying to catch a glimpse of royalty, and for once afraid to chatter. Guanyou himself was hurrying hither and thither, now giving a final order, now gazing anxiously at the empty mold, and again glancing towards the throne to see if his imperial master was showing signs of impatience.

      At last all was ready; everyone was waiting breathlessly for the sign from Yongluo which should start the flowing of the metal. A slight bow of the head, a lifting of the finger! The glowing liquid, hissing with delight at being freed even for a moment from its prison, ran forward faster and faster along the channel that led into the great earthen bed.

      The bell-maker covered his eyes with his fan, afraid to look at the swiftly-flowing stream. were all his hopes to be suddenly dashed by the failure of the metals to mix and harden properly? A heavy sigh escaped him as at last he looked up at the thing he had created. Something had indeed gone wrong; he knew in the flash of an eye that misfortune had overtaken him.

      Yes! sure enough, when at last the earthen casting had been broken, even the smallest child could see that the giant bell, instead of being a thing of beauty was a sorry mass of metals that would not blend.

      “Alas!” said Yongluo, “here is indeed a mighty failure, but even in this disappointment I see an object lesson well worthy of consideration, for behold! in yonder elements are all the materials of which this country is made up. There are gold and silver and the baser metals. United in the proper manner they would make a bell so wonderfully beautiful and so pure of tone that the very spirits of the western Heavens would pause to look and listen. But divided they form a thing that is hideous to eye and ear. Oh, my China! how many wars are there from time to time among the different sections, weakening the country and making it poor! If only all these peoples, great and small, the gold and silver and the baser elements, would unite, then would this land be really worthy of the name of the Middle Kingdom!”

      The courtiers all applauded this speech of the great Yongluo, but Guanyou remained on the ground where he had thrown himself at the feet of his sovereign. Still bowing his head and moaning, he cried out:

      “Ah! your Majesty! I urged you not to appoint me, and now indeed you see my unfitness. Take my life, I beg you, as a punishment for my failure.”

      “Rise, Guanyou,” said the great Prince. “I would be a mean master indeed if I did not grant you another trial. Rise up and see that your next casting profits by the lesson of this failure.”

      So Guanyou arose, for when the king speaks, all men must listen. The next day he began his task once more, but still his heart was heavy, for he knew not the reason of his failure and was therefore unable to correct his error. For many months he labored night and day. Hardly a СКАЧАТЬ