their grief, and would long ago have got rid of the custom. Now here you have an honest expression of feeling, and that is all there should ever be.”
“My friend,” replied Tzŭ-yu, “the mourning ceremonial, with all its material accompaniments, is at once a check upon undue emotion and a guarantee against any lack of proper respect. Simply to give vent to the feelings is the way of barbarians. That is not our way.
“Consider. A man who is pleased will show it in his face. He will sing. He will get excited. He will dance. So, too, a man who is vexed will look sad. He will sigh. He will beat his breast. He will jump about. The due regulation of these emotions is the function of a set ceremonial.
“Further. A man dies and becomes an object of loathing. A dead body is shunned. Therefore, a shroud is prepared, and other paraphernalia of burial, in order that the survivors may cease to loathe. At death, there is a sacrifice of wine and meat; when the funeral cortege is about to start, there is another; and after burial there is yet another. Yet no one ever saw the spirit of the departed come to taste of the food.
“These have been our customs from remote antiquity. They have not been discarded, because, in consequence, men no more shun the dead. What you may censure in those who perform the ceremonial is no blemish in the ceremonial itself.”
BURYING ALIVE.
When Tzŭ-chü died, his wife and secretary took counsel together as to who should be interred with him.[1] All was settled before the arrival of his brother, Tzŭ-k'ang; and then they informed him, saying, “The deceased requires some one to attend upon him in the nether world. We must ask you to go down with his body
- ↑ The custom of burying living persons with the dead was first practised in China b.c. 580. It was said to have been suggested by an earlier and more harmless custom of placing straw and wooden effigies in the mausolea of the great.
