Hsiao-tse III - Medicine for a Village

Tales of Hsaio-tze

(Note: This is a sequel to

Tales 1: A Birthday Feast for Hsiao-tse  (E) A fable. A Confucius-like elder teaches values to his grandson. #982631 by revdbob

and may eventually become a book of collected tales.)

TALES OF HSIAO-TSE III:

MEDICINE FOR A VILLAGE

Mrs. Lao was not feeling well. She had had the doctors in and they had filled her full of many herbs and potions; but if anything she always felt a little worse afterwards than she had before. She was not a complainer, however, and hardly anyone would have known she was not well, had her servants not expressed their concern around the village.

Mrs. Lao lived in a large hut with wooden floors. In most homes, the floors were just dirt covered with straw, but Mrs. Lao, who was now rather elderly, was the widow of a man who had done rather well for himself, and in old age had sold his property to Mr. Chang. Mr. Chang had then taken Mr. Lao’s place as the financial leader in the village and surrounding areas.

Mr. Lao had provided well for his widow, who was treated very respectfully by everyone. But her nice home was somewhat isolated, and she rarely left it, so that even though the village was not very big, Mrs. Lao did not often come into contact with anyone but her servants. People would not presume to call upon her, because they felt she was above them in station. She had everything she needed or wanted, and because she had grown up as a simple village girl, she did not ask for very much, even from her servants. Consequently, since she was a rather humble lady in spite of her wealth, the village people became quite concerned for her and wondered what they could do to help.

It was not long before the news came to Mr. Chang that old Mrs. Lao was not well. “What am I supposed to do about it?” thought Mr. Chang. “She is old. Of course she doesn’t feel very well.” But being Mr. Chang, and being now the wealthiest and most important man in the village and for miles around, and since everyone knew that he really owed much of his success to the late Mr. Lao’s patronage, he supposed he would have to do something.

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“Good day to you, dear Mrs. Lao,” bellowed Mr. Chang, in what he supposed was friendly good humor. ”Oh, Xiăo Chang,” cried Mrs. Lao, but very softly, since her voice was not very strong. “How good it is to see you after all this time!” Mr. Chang cringed, because the nickname by which she called him meant “Little Chang,” and Mr. Chang did not think of himself as “little” anything! He did not even notice the small reproach in referring to how long it had been since his last visit, but old Hu, the servant who happened to be standing behind him, could not repress a small smile.

Still, Mr. Chang hid his annoyance well, and graciously accepted the tea and little cakes old Hu had brought them. They were very good, and he ate several of the cakes. Mrs. Lao sipped a little tea, and put it back on the table. After a few more polite words, Mr. Chang continued. “I hear you are not feeling very well, Mother Lao.”

“No,” she replied. “I am not ever very hungry, and I lose weight,” which, since Mrs. Lao did not weigh much more than a child of ten anyway, was quite serious. “I have no energy, and I just sit by myself all day long. I look out my window, and fall sleep in my chair or on my mat.’

“This will not do,” cried Mr. Chang, who, of course, had no idea what to do. “I will go to the city and bring back someone to fix you up!”

After a little more polite conversation, during which Mr. Chang ate the rest of the cakes and still did most of the talking, he took his leave.

“Now I suppose I’ll have to find someone who will come out to see the old lady,” he said to himself peevishly. “I must think who else I can see in the city when I go, so that the trip will not be a complete waste of time.” Mr. Chang was always very busy.

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But he was true to his word, and before long a very distinguished looking gentleman arrived at Mrs. Lao’s door with Mr. Chang at his side. Mr. Hsaio and his grandson were already visiting with Mrs. Lao when old Hu ushered them in.

“Greetings, Hsaio-tse!” said Mr. Chang, and bowed. “I did not expect to find you here. I have brought a doctor from the city to fix Mother Lao up.”

“Oh,” said Mrs. Lao quickly, “Lao Hsiao has been here every day for a week now.” Lao Hsaio means “Old Hsiao,” which was a kind of nickname showing respect, since Mrs. Lao was every bit as old as Mr. Hsaio. Mr. Chang, remembering what she had called him, had to stifle a frown.

“This is Dr. Fu,” he went on, and Dr. Fu bowed, as the two elderly people nodded back.

Dr. Fu spoke his greetings in very learned and courtly accents, and then said, “I regret that I will be unable to stay with you very long. I hope to be able to return to the city, if possible, this very night. But I don’t think your illness is very serious from Mr. Chang’s account, and I am sure that we can have you back to normal very quickly.”

I will not make this story very long. Dr. Fu and Mrs. Lao went off to a private place, where Dr. Fu opened his satchel which was full of long needles. These he inserted into her skin in many places: on her back, her arms, her legs, even her toes, where, in spite of Dr. Fu’s assurances that his needles did not hurt, and notwithstanding Mrs. Lao’s quiet endurance, actually did hurt quite a lot! After her treatment, she decided to remain in her bed and rest.

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The next morning, old Hu appeared at Mr. Hsiao’s door. “Oh, Hsiao-tse,” he cried. “Do come to see Mother Lao. She does not want even to rise from her bed this morning, and I am so worried.”

As quickly as Mr. Hsaio could move his old bones, he readied himself, and sent for his grandson to help him walk the little distance to Mrs. Lao. Old Hu had enough to do just to walk himself, and so could not be much assistance! But it was not very long before they arrived at Mrs. Lao’s house, and Mr. Hsiao went to where his old friend lay.

“Oh, Lao Hsiao,” she wept. “You are my only real friend. I am dying, and I am sure that I will die alone.” Hsiao-tse (who was called Hsiao-tse because he was very wise and much loved respected by everyone) held her hand.

“My dear Lao Lao (doubling a name is another way of making a friendly nickname), I do not think you are ready yet to go to our ancestors. But you will have to do just as I say, and I believe you will be well again.”

“Can it be true, my old friend?”

“Oh, yes indeed,” Hsiao-tse assured her.

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That afternoon, Mr. Hsiao was seen talking with the mayor of the village. The mayor did some frowning and head scratching; but at last he smiled and nodded and bowed to Mr. Hsiao. Mr. Hsiao went home looking very satisfied.

The next day, Hsiao-tse’s grandson and his young wife appeared at Mrs. Lao’s door, and with old Hu’s help moved her with a few belongings into their own home. The rest of the servants busied themselves packing up everything in Mrs. Lao’s house. Soon everything was moved into the village square under a hastily built shelter.

“What in the world is going on?” wondered the village people, and they wondered all the more when after talking with Mr. Hsiao or his grandson, all of the town’s builders and craftsmen went to Mrs. Lao’s house, and can you guess what they did? They took it apart! From the floors to the roof, they removed every nail and tie and dissassembled it! Now, to be sure, this was not as hard as it might seem, for although Mrs. Lao had wooden floors, it was still just a large hut with several rooms.

And then what do you suppose they did?

They put it back together again, right in the middle of the village, where a large space had been kept open for town meetings. What's more, the mayor himself who always led those meetings, was helping them to do it!

Soon Mrs. Lao was moved right back into her house, and everything was very much the way it was before, except instead of looking out her window, Mrs. Lao sat outside for much of the day. At first she would hold a little parasol over herself to keep the sun off; but after a few days, the builders came by again, and made a little verandah shelter for her. Old Hu found a few chairs and a table and placed them on the verandah. All day long, people stopped to greet her with a few words or a friendly bow as they went by on their daily business, and Mrs. Lao almost always had tea and cakes ready for anyone who had time to sit down with her and chat.

It was not long before people could tell that she was gaining weight again, and the color was back in her cheeks, and her voice was stronger. Mr. Hsiao sat often with her on her verandah, and sometimes after such a chat, someone in the village received a surprise gift that was just the right thing, or was invited to dinner with Mrs. Lao, even though they had never ever thought to sit in a grand house with a grand lady, and were told to bring all their children, and there was always so much food left over, her guests had to bring home baskets full, because Mrs. Lao assured them that she could never eat so much.

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“But, Grandfather,” asked Hsiao-tse’s grandson one day. “How is it that none of the doctors, not even the great Dr. Fu, could make Mother Lao well. But we moved her house into the square, and right away she is well! What magic could there be in the town square?”

“Ah, Grandson. There is no magic in the square or in a house, and very little in medicine. But in friendship and love, there are many miracles.”

“So!” cried the younger Hsiao, perceiving suddenly what his Grandfather meant. “And those miracles, they produce yet more miracles again, do they not, Grandfather?”

Mr. Hsiao sat up a little straighter and smiled. “You are, “ he said, “a most excellent grandson.”