Leaves from my Chinese Scrapbook/Chapter 13
CHAPTER XIII.
THE PEACH AND ITS LEGENDS.
The peach-gardens of China are a fair sight in all the glory of their springtide bloom, when the trees are laden with blossoms of delicate pink and white and the air sweetened with their rich fragrance. The Chinese, in celebrating their admiration for flowers, give a high place to the blossoms of fruit, which English poets appear generally rather to ignore. Bouquets in English houses do not include these beautiful specimens of nature, which are so favourite an ornament in the libraries and reception-rooms of well-to-do Chinese. The peach is held in special honour in the so-called Flowery Land, and much attention is paid to its cultivation. There are three sorts of peach-trees grown in China—the dwarf, the shrub, and the full-sized tree. Of these the dwarf-peach is perhaps the most highly prized in point of beauty and perfume. It is remarkable for the size, wealth, and colour of its blossoms, and is divided by Chinese florists into eighteen different species. It does not fructify, and is valued only for its peculiarity of form and the rich fragrance of its flowers. The shrub-peach grows to the height of four or five feet, and is much found in the imperial gardens, where it is placed, with that true eye to effect characteristic of the Chinese, on the margins of pools and the acclivities of those effective pieces of rockwork which form so prominent a feature in artificial landscapes. The coup d'œil formed by these masses of peach, apricot, and wild cherry, all in fullest and softest bloom, has been justly called enchanting, and must be seen to be appreciated. Peach-trees also form a very beautiful feature of many natural landscapes in China, and were celebrated during the Sung dynasty by the great historian Ssŭ-ma Kuang, who in some charming verses described the eye of the spectator as being guided by a colossal garland of peach-blossoms, connecting the numerous villages that were dotted over the spreading plains of Lo-yang. The neighbourhood of the Hsi-hu, or Western Lake, near Hangchow, was famous for its wealth of peach-trees, and the greatest care has always been bestowed upon their cultivation. The fruit of the full-sized tree is handsome, though somewhat poor in flavour. Its shape is varied, some specimens being fully spherical, others prolate, others a curiously oblate spheroid—called by foreigners "flat" peaches—while others again are pointed and even hooked. The same diversity prevails in the colour of the pulp, the fruits varying from white and pale green to rich ruby, orange-yellow, and marbled tints.
The peach is said to have reached China in the first instance from Persia, Thibet, Samarcand, and Hami, and to have existed here at any rate for upward of two thousand years. The Emperor Wu Ti of the Han dynasty was presented by his courtiers with a number of foreign seedlings for his garden; the belles lettres of all the great dynasties abound in allusions, poetical and otherwise, to the beauty of its flowers, while histories record the fact that peach-trees or their fruit formed part of the tribute brought to the capital of China by ambassadors from abroad. It would be deemed curious by those who have studied native literature and systems of thought if the peach had not been laid under contribution by the poets and mystics of the country. As a fact, it plays a prominent part in both poetry and philosophy. By some writers it is regarded as an emblem of longevity and marriage. Of course this does not mean that it is the only emblem of either which exists. Longevity is also symbolised by the stork, and conjugal harmony by the music of lutes and bells, the strings of a guitar, and other figures of a like fanciful description. It is the well-known Ode on the Princess's Marriage in the Book of Poetry, according to Dr. Legge's translation, which seems to have originated the metaphor that has been so great a favourite ever since:—
"Graceful and young the peach-tree stands;
How rich its flowers, all gleaming bright;
This bride to her new home repairs;
Chamber and house she'll order right."
The Taoists, too, attribute occult virtues to the peach. Mr. Mayers, quoting from the Huang Ti Shu, or books of the imperial magician known as the Yellow Emperor, himself a disciple of the still more mystical Kuang Ch'êng-tzŭ, tells us that on one occasion two brothers, named respectively T'u Yu and Yu Liu, who had power over disembodied spirits, passed the ghostly legions in review beneath a peach-tree, and having bound all those who worked evil against mankind with scarlet withes, threw them as food to tigers. In memory of this it was customary for officials on the last day of the year to have figures cut in peach-wood mounted upon reeds, and to paint the likeness of a tiger upon the doorway as a talisman. At present, adds Mr. Mayers, the names of the two brothers are pasted on the entrance-doors of Chinese houses on New-Year's Eve, to guard the dwelling from harm. Peaches, too, figure largely in Chinese fairy tales and mythology, and formed part of the banquet prepared by the Royal Mother of the West when she paid a visit to the Emperor Chêng, better known as Shih Huang Ti; while a peach-garden was the scene of one of the most celebrated events in Chinese history, when the Oath of Brotherhood was taken between the three heroes who played so important a part in the historical romance of the "Three Kingdoms." There are many other interesting details connected with the peach-tree in Chinese literature, but we have no space to enlarge upon them. Some pundits aver that, properly speaking, the peach is an emblem, not of longevity, but of death; while Western theorists have attempted to connect it with the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, whose fair fruit presented so fatal a temptation to our mother Eve. It seems, however, certain that, according to ancient writers, peaches were not admissible in sacrifice, that those with double kernels were a mysterious but unfailing poison, and that the premature fructification of one species of peach-tree was a harbinger of national calamity. All this may be very interesting, but it is not practical. We will conclude with two facts which have the merit of being both. The best manure for peach-trees, according to Chinese horticulturists, is snow; and a cold decoction of pig's-head, poured about the roots and into the trunk itself, is a sure remedy for the insects which prey upon it.