Taiwan Today

It was the day after the summer sol­stice, and the southern summer sun beat down mercilessly. In the distance, a gaunt figure of a man, cane in hand, moved slowly along a bank of the Milo River. Although the heat was oppressive, he still wore the long black robe and imposing hat typical of a man of status. Deep in thought, he continued his slow pace along the river bank, stopping to rest against his cane from time to time. His dark and wrinkled face wore a pensive expression, bespeaking many years of difficult fortune.

He continued in this revery until the voice of a local fisherman rang out, "Aren't you the great Minister Chu Yuan?"

The frail figure nodded in silent affirmation.

"Why have you come here?" the fisherman pressed.

With a sigh, Chu Yuan answered him: "The world is in great confusion; I alone see clearly. The people are as if drunk; I alone remain sober. I have, for those reasons, been exiled here."

The philosophical fisherman re­sponded: "Even the greatest sage does not make himself rigid; he changes with the times. If the world is muddled, then be of it. If the people are all drunk, why not raise your glass and drink with them? Do you not hold to your principles so tightly that you caused yourself to be so exiled?"

Without hesitation, Chu Yuan re­plied: "I have heard that a man who has just washed his hair will shake clean his hat before putting it back on; that a man who has just bathed his body will brush clean his robe before donning it again. Who will willingly allow a clean body to be contaminated by filth?

"I would prefer to jump into the river and be entombed in the stomachs of fishes than to bow while purity is defiled by vulgar pestilence."

Having so spoken, he turned from the fisherman and once more moved slowly on his way.

Chu Yuan, a historical figure, was born into the royal family of the Chinese State of Chu in the 4th Century B.C., during the waning years of the Warring States Period when China was divided into seven feudal fiefdoms, all vying with one another for territory and power.

Although the State of Chu was one of the largest and was originally quite powerful, it was no match for the rising State of Chin to the west, which aspired to unite and control China. In this chaotic period, political trickery and intrigue were common, and in many cases per­sonal loyalty to kings and states was shifted as casually as one might change clothes. The kings of the times were somewhat removed from the day to day affairs of their states and often relied heavily on the advice of high ministers, taken deeply into confidence. A king who was not particularly wise might be led far astray by corrupt officials plotting for their own advantage (or even on behalf of another state). The results often proved disastrous. It was in such a political arena that Chu Yuan was born, and that he grew up.

Chu Yuan was extremely gifted intellectually. Hardworking and diligent in his studies, at a young age he distinguished himself by his knowledge of the affairs of government. Consequently, the then King of Chu, Huai, appointed Chu Yuan to the very high position of Minister of State, his duties including advise to the King on affairs of state and the drafting of new laws. Loyal to King Huai and devoted to his work, he put himself wholeheartedly into the tasks given him.

Certain other people in the government saw obeisance and friendly relations with the State of Chin as the best way to deal with the looming menace of that neighbor to the west. Chu Yuan, however, saw Chin as a scheming and unreliable state that would only take ad­vantage of Chu's friendship to further encroach upon her sovereignty and territory. He firmly opposed a policy of appeasement towards Chin and, instead, worked to strengthen Chu internally and develop its working relations with the other states, especially the large State of Chi to the east, which could help deter Chin's tendency to resort to force.

Although King Huai himself was not a very wise ruler, with Chu Yuan's help, the State of Chu prospered. Eventually, Chu Yuan was so completely taken into King Huai's confidence that he held a po­sition, if not in title, in power and author­ity, equivalent to that of prime minister.

As King Huai's highest and most trusted advisor, he played a large part in establishing an alliance of the other six states against Chin, with King Huai as its leader.

All seemed to be going well in terms of controlling Chin, so Chu Yuan turned his efforts towards strengthening Chu in­ternally, having been directed by King Huai to draft a new set of laws. Since, besides his mastery of government and laws, Chu Yuan was also a very gifted writer, the task presented little difficulty for him.

Chu Yuan completed the draft and was prepared to present it to the King the next day; he was entertaining some guests at his home that evening when one of King Huai's high officials came by.

Chu Yuan asked the official to wait for him in his study until the departure of his guests. Then he went back to the guests, leaving the official alone. Perhaps from curiosity rather than conspiracy, the official began poking into the things on Chu Yuan's desk and came across the new draft which Chu Yuan was to present to the King the next day. In any case, reading it, the official flushed with envy; it was brilliantly written, and he was forced to immediately realize that he was not Chu Yuan's equal.

Envious of Chu Yuan's close rela­tionship to the King, he now thought to take the draft secretly back with him and present it as his own work. But before he could put this plan into action, Chu Yuan returned, having already seen his guests on their way, and seeing now that the draft on his desk had been disturbed, asked the official for an explanation.

Claiming to have "accidentally" discovered the new draft and glanced at it, the official gushed that he couldn't stop reading it, that he admired the brilliance of the work and wondered if it might be possible to take it back with him for a closer scrutiny: There were some points in it on which he was not completely clear, he said.

Chu Yuan, already annoyed at the official's brazenness, rather bluntly refused, telling him that the substance of the new laws was still known only to the King and himself, and that the official would have to wait until the King's final action, when it would be made public.

The official, angered by what he considered summary and demeaning treatment, now left in a huff. He immediately sought an audience with the King.

"That His Majesty has asked Chu Yuan to draft a new law is already common knowledge throughout the state," he began. "But, every time a new one of his laws is proclaimed, he boasts that no one else could accomplish such a task, and that His Majesty couldn't possi­bly manage without him."

Ingenuous King Huai now assumed that Chu Yuan had betrayed his confidence. How else could the official know the substance of the new draft? And furi­ous also at what he believed to be Chu Yuan's insolence, he determined from that point on to no longer consult him on matters of major importance. Not long after, Chu Yuan was officially removed from his court position and sent off to the State of Chi as an ambassador.

At first, Chu Yuan was puzzled about King Huai's sudden change of heart. And even, eventually, when he did find out that he had been slandered by the official (who now held Chu Yuan's former position), and though bitter at the injustice, he did not change in his loyalty toward the King.

Now in Chi, and no longer charged with writing laws for King Huai, Chu Yuan turning his literary efforts to pa­triotic poetry and literature. The most famous of his works, Li Sao (Departing Sorrow), written during this time, expresses his chagrin and sadness over having been so unjustly treated as a result of slander, but reaffirms his loyalty to the service of his state.

With Chu Yuan gone, the State of Chu's formidable enemy saw the opportunity it had been waiting for. The Chin ruler now sent a master political strate­gist, Chang Yi, on a mission to break up the six-state alliance against Chin. His mandate included any type of trickery or deception he felt necessary to accomplish the task. And since Chu and Chi were the two most formidable obsta­cles to Chin, Chang Yi gave priority to disrupting their relationship, so they would be more vulnerable to military pressures.

Arriving in Chu, Chang Yi obtained an audience with King Huai and proceed­ed to convince him that Chin's real enemy was Chi. Indeed, Chang Yi urged the closest relations between Chin and Chu. He proposed a marriage within their royal families and, as a specially material evidence of goodwill, pledged that Chin would return six hundred li of land it had seized from Chu in a much earlier military encounter.

Disregarding now everything that Chu Yuan had stressed about the importance of the strong alliance between Chu and Chi—and despite the protests of another worthy official, Chen Chen, who pleaded with the King not to be misled by Chin's envoy—King Huai agreed to Chin's proposals and he formally severed relations with Chi.

As Chen Chen had specifically pre­dicted, when it later came time to transfer the land, Chin demurred. The wily Chang Yi pretended that King Huai had heard wrongly, that the land promised was six li, not six hundred.

When a messenger reported this interpretation back to King Huai, the King, boiling with rage, impetuously dis­patched an armed force to attack Chin, overriding Chen Chen's strong objec­tions.

Chu's forces met with a great defeat, losing over 80,000 men in the battle as Chi, former ally of Chu, stood by. The bumbling King Huai had not only severed relations with this ex-friend, but had gone so far as to send a messenger to the Chi border to revile the King of Chi in a show of good faith towards Chin.

Chu Yuan could only watch from afar the humiliation his King and state were suffering at the hands of Chin.

Chin's canny rulers, playing to avoid reformation of the old anti-Chin alliance, in spite of the decisive field victory, acted now to placate King Huai, offering to return half the land taken in battle. But the King, declined, asking instead that Chang Yi be handed over to him so that he could be put to death for his trickery.

Chin complied. But clever Chang Yi once again arranged to manipulate King Huai, this time by bribing the Chu offi­cial Chin Shang to convince the King that it would stir Chin to new mili­tary onslaughts if he actually executed Chang Yi. King Huai, once more a tool in the hands of corrupt officials, released Chang Yi without being able to reclaim the land that had been offered to him.

Chu Yuan had returned to Chu at this time, and hearing that King Huai had released Chang Yi, went immediately to see the King to ask why Chang had not been executed. And as if waking from a dream, the King immediately regretted releasing Chang Yi and sent sol­diers after him. But it was too late; Chang Yi was already two days' distance across the Chu border.

Having been betrayed by Chin now on more than one occasion, King Huai realized that Chu Yuan's previous counsel was correct, and he gradually started to consult Chu Yuan once more on matters of government. Yet the King was not able to escape the snares of less-principled officials, and Chu Yuan was unable to reestablish the position of authority he had previously held in the King's court.

A few years later, in an effort at rap­prochement, King Huai sent his crown prince to his old ally, Chi, in a show of goodwill, and Chin soon responded with an attack on Chu, inflicting another seri­ous defeat.

Chin now sent a memorial to its victim asserting that the two states had been as brothers for many years and denouncing the dispatch of the Chu crown prince to Chi as an act of bad faith. The note urged a meeting now between King Huai and King Chao Hsiang of Chin, at a site called Wu Kuan in Chin, to work out a permanent treaty between the two states.

King Huai, fearing some trick if he went, was more afraid to incur Chin's renewed wrath by declining, in spite of pointed counsel from Chu Yuan: "Chin is a ruthless and scheming state which has betrayed His Majesty time and time again. If His Majesty goes, he will defi­nitely not return."

The King again ignored Chu Yuan's proven wisdom, bending once more, to the blandishments of the same Chin Shang who had, in the past, been bribed by Chang Yi, and to the pleas of his own youngest son (who had married a Chin princess) to now grasp the opportunity to cement good relations with Chin.

Accompanied by Chin Shang, King Huai made the journey to Chin. Then on passing through the gates of Wu Kuan, the conference site, he was startled when they were instantly shut behind him with a resounding boom. Even as he was being assured that it was only a security precaution, Chin soldiers in hiding jumped out and, surrounding King Huai, led him to the meeting like a prisoner of war. He was forced to sit below the King of Chin, like a common official, and was sternly told he would be released only if he agreed to cede a hefty piece of Chu's territory.

King Huai retained his pride. Berating the King of the Chin State, he told him that Chu would not relinquish another inch of land to Chin regardless of his fate.

Predictably, the worthless Chin Shang now managed to "escape." But King Huai remained a prisoner in Chin, sighing aloud, "If only I had listened to Chu Yuan and not the others."

With King Huai a captive, the Chu crown prince now returned from Chi and took the throne as King Ching Hsiang.

Three years later, having failed in one escape attempt, King Huai died of illness while still a captive in Chin. The King's body was sent back to Chu for burial, and Chu Yuan, with the rest of the populace, mourned his death.

When the ritual period of mourning was over, Chu Yuan went to the new King and pledged his ser­ vice with the same loyalty he had shown the King's father. And once more Chu Yuan was slandered by that old scoun­drel, Chin Shang, and by King Huai's youngest son, Tzu Lan, now prime minister.

"Chu Yuan resents not having a high position in the government," Chin told the new King. "He says that His Majesty's failure to seek revenge against the State of Chin for his father's death is unfilial behavior, and that Tzu Lan and the others who recommend against an attack on Chin are disloyal." King Ching Hsiang, furious, banned Chu Yuan from further service and exiled him from the capital.

The specter of unjust disgrace-once more upon him, Chu Yuan packed his bags for what would prove to be his final farewell to the capital. No longer young, he spent several years wandering in exile, during which time he produced a number of brilliant, though tragic, writings.

Chu Yuan's older sister, who had married far away, on hearing of his exile, rushed to meet him. Finding him heartbroken and despondent, she coun­seled him: "The King won't hear what you have to say, and you have already done your utmost. Of what use can fur­ther worry be? Luckily, we own farmland here (the Kuei, area, their native place). Why not put your energies into managing the land and pass your days in this way?"

Chu Yuan took his sister's advice, putting his energy into farming, and his neighbors, who had been deeply moved by Chu Yuan's reputation for loyalty to the kingdom, pitched in to help him. Yet just one month later, when his sister left, the old. statesman once more fell into a state of depression. Walking along the banks of the Milo River he lamented, "The affairs of Chu have reached a terrible state! I can't bear to witness the downfall of our ruling house." He wrote:

In summer's oppressive early heat
The trees and grasses flourish
But I, guarding painful memories,
Forever grieving
In exile in this southern region
See only darkness and obscurity.
A silent loneliness pervades all.
... The confused world knows me not
Having no way to understand.
With death inevitable
There is no need for reluctance.
I call to those before me
Who died for justice:
I soon will join your ranks!

Grasping a big stone to his chest, he took a step into space and soon disappeared into the flowing river below.

People in the area set out in boats to rescue him. But though they followed the Milo River from the point where Chu Yuan had jumped in, to its outlet in Tungting Lake, no trace of his body was to be found. Later, the populace threw cooked grains into the river—Some later chroniclers saw this as an attempt to draw fish from his body, others, as a ritual sacrifice to Chu Yuan's spirit.

It was the fifth day of the fifth month according to the lunar calendar: One of China's early literary masters, and perhaps its greatest patriot ever, had consigned himself to eternity.

Chu Yuan's great talent and intense loyalty to his state, through both extreme adversity and undeserved dis­grace, became known throughout the land. The people near the Milo River erected a shrine in his honor, and his home county was renamed Tzu Kuei (Returning Sister) County, in honor of the woman who came back from so far away to see and help him. The fields he had planted produced grain white as jade and were, hence, ceremonially called the "Jade Grain Fields." Over 1,200 years later, he was given the posthumous title Chung Lieh Wang (roughly translated, Martyred Patriot King) by an emperor of the Sung Dynasty.

And through the ages, his country­men have paid special homage to his memory via the annual Tuan Wu Festi­val, commonly known to the West as the Dragon Boat Festival, one of the three major festivals on the Chinese calendar.

The day Chu Yuan ended his life in the Milo River was the day after the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, and the festival is also in celebration of this event. Originally strictly a South China festival, it eventually spread north; but never in as grand a manner.

Many aspects of the celebration, even in the south, were added long after the time of Chu Yuan. Two of the most familiar go back to that actual time.

After Chu Yuan died, the people of Chu, to honor his spirit, ritually cast a bamboo container of rice into the river. This custom was carried out at every Tuan Wu Festival from the time of Chu Yuan's death.

Then some 200 years later, according to the Liang Dynasty book Hsu Chi Chieh Chi, a ghost seen near Changsha on that same day indentified itself as the spirit of Chu Yuan to a startled citizen named Ou Hui. The ghost told him that the ritual yearly food offering was very excellent; however, that it was often taken by the chiao lung (a mythical monster consid­ered the cause of floods). The ghost said that if the people would be so kind as to wrap the mouth of the bamboo container with reed leaves and tie it with five-colored string, that the chiao lung would fear it and leave it alone. Ou Hui's ac­tions to accommodate the spirit were the beginning of a practice that has evolved into the customary eating of tsung tzu the rice dumplings of the Tuan Wu Festival.

This custom of eating rice dumplings on the occasion can be traced to south China; there is no accurate record of its spread to the north. Eventually though, the eating of the dumplings on the Tuan Wu Festival did become common throughout China, though the north and south recipes are very different.

Southern dumplings are usually salty, filled with such savories as bits of ham, dried shrimp, pork, etc. In the north, rice dumplings, in much bigger size, are made either with dates or with­out any filling and are eaten cold-once again in contrast to the southern rare, which is steamed and eaten hot.

The second of these ancient customs is a competition—the Tuan Wu Festival dragon boat races-a reenactment of the attempt to rescue Chu Yuan.

Even if Chu Yuan were not saved, in Chinese custom, the recovery of his body would have permitted an appropriate burial and rituals of great importance. The ritual boat racing that has followed is, therefore, also a distinct and continuing gesture of respect for this Chinese hero.

Initially, every year on Tuan Wu, the people of the Milo River would take boats and retrace the route they had previously followed looking for Chu Yuan's body (some hold that the peasants of the time believed that the commotion made by the boats would protect Chu Yuan's spirit from anything evil which lurked in the waters).

In any case, this ancient outpouring of human compassion, over the ages, turned into competitions, with boats racing to reach the symbolic river outlet in Tungting Lake.

As this custom spread to other parts of China, especially the area south to the Yangtze River, it went through further metamorphoses. The boats became more and more ornate, eventually featuring large, carved dragon heads at the prow. And consequently, during cer­tain dynasties, the festival also come commonly to be known as the Dragon Boat Festival-the name known to the West.

Since, to the Chinese, the dragon is the most auspicious of creatures, by so decorating the boats, they sought the good fortune and safety of the boat and its crew during the race.

Several days before dragon races take place, the boats may be paraded through the streets. On the day of such a race, both banks of chosen water courses are always packed with happy crowds, shouting encouragement to their teams of preference. Some team 'rivalries go back over endless years. After the races, the boats are returned to special havens inside a temple compound, to await the festival on the following year.

Among elaborate dragon boats, per­haps none ever surpassed the special craft of Sui Dynasty Emperor Yang, who undertook construction of China's Grand Canal, connecting the then capital of Changan with Yangchow. A Tang Dy­nasty record describes Emperor Yang's massive dragon boat as lavish to the ex­treme, with brocade sails and colored mast-cables, a curtained stage up front, and 1,000 beautiful women to manipu­late its carved, gold-inlaid oars. Of course, such a boat did not engage in the competitions; but it does reflect the impact of the Dragon Boat Festival on China.

Among a number of other customs gradually associated with the Tuan Wu Festival, some have little or no connec­tion with the memorable Chu Yuan. As the festival coincides with the summer solstice, ancient elements of solstice celebration are also involved.

At this time, the summer's heat is at a zenith, a factor expressed as yang (PM) in the Chinese cosmology involving the universal male/female (yang/yin) sym­bolism and the "five elements"—the basis of the ancient Chinese philosophy concerning natural phenomena: The summer solstice was considered a time of extreme natural imbalance, heavily favoring the yang element and portending harm to the people. Various precautions were taken which eventually became a part of the Tuan Wu Festival.

One resulting custom is the hanging of fragrant herbs above the doorway, principally wormwood and sweet flag. In ancient times, Chinese homes did not have closed doors, screens, or glass win­dows, and at the time of the summer solstice, insects and poisonous reptiles were becoming very active. In order to keep them and other pestilences out of the homes, the special herbs were hung in doorways and various special Chinese inscriptions were pasted up. The custom continues unbroken into the present, in the same sort of cultural continuum as mistletoe and holly at a Western Christmas.

Another popular custom associated with the Tuan Wu Festival is the posting of pictures of the protector spirit, Chung Kuei, an unjustly slandered scholar of the Tang Dynasty. In protest, the legendary Chung Kuei committed sui­cide in front of the Emperor's palace. And when the Emperor discovered that Chung Kuei had indeed been falsely ac­cused, he was given a special burial by the Emperor in atonement.

Chung Kuei's graterul spirit report­edly came back to do battle with evil spir­its threatening later emperors. Now, wearing the garb of an official and wield­ing a long sword, his posted image stands ready to cut down lurking demons during the solstice period.

Although in years past, most people would hang woodblock prints or paper-cuttings of Chung Kuei, more well-to-do families might hire artists to come in on the day of the Tuan Wu Festival and paint his likeness on the doors and walls. Actually, prints of Chung Kuei were originally hung on the eve of the Chinese New Year to chase evil spirits; only later did they also become a part of the Tuan Wu Festival.

Many other customs connected with the Tuan Wu Festival—drinking a special wine, making small, colored sachets to bring good luck to children, the playing of various games of skill—varied from area to area within old China and are too numerous to mention. Those described above, however, still form the basis of the Tuan Wu Festival as it is still celebrated by people in the Republic of China on Taiwan and other Chinese communities in Asia.

It is interesting to speculate what might have been in China if Chu Yuan had not met such misfortunes-it he had been given the opportunity to fully put his talents to use in the service of the State of Chu.

It really was as if he, alone, was "sober" amidst a government of "drunks," as if Chu Yuan had been haunted all along by preknowledge of what was in store. A mere fifty odd years after his death, Chu no longer existed as a state, having fallen to Chin, which eventually conquered the other states as well and unified China.

The state of Chu has been non­-existent now for well over 2,000 years. But the memory of Chu Yuan, of his unequalled dedication and its intimations of the potential which might be in any man, live on in both the literature he left behind and in the hearts of the Chinese people—especially as they come out every year during the Tuan Wu Festival to pay homage to all he stands for.