Tales 1: A Birthday Feast for Hsiao-tse

Mr. Hsiao was getting old, but remained very spry and quick-witted, and as the people said, smiling and shaking their heads, “you couldn’t plant beans over him yet.” They spoke of him with great affection, because he was kindly and wise and always seemed to know the right thing to say. That is why they always called him by the honorific name of Hsiao-tse as they had done with Kung-fu-tse and Meng-tse in ages past.

When Hsiao-tse was about to turn eighty years of age, the village decided to hold a special affair to mark the occasion. Except for Mr. Chang, who owned most of the shops and the mills where flour was ground and where linen cloth was made, and who could trace his ancestors back several dynasties to one who was appointed an official by the Emperor himself, most of the village was very poor. Because Hsiao-tse had always expressed a taste for calligraphy and painting, they decided to have a show of the arts and a grand gala dinner in his honor on his birthday. Being poor, they could not attract great art from the state museums, but they decided they could each make some piece of art - some sculpture or calligraphy or craft to present to Hsiao-tse and display in a great show. They would let Hsiao-tse choose the best one, and keep it for himself. (They would have given all the work to Hsiao-tse, but his hut was too small to hold more than himself and his few belongings!)

Mr. Chang realized that, being the wealthiest man for miles around, he, too, would have to show his respect for Hsiao-tse, or else he would lose much prestige. Being a wealthy man, he thought this also made him a great man, and he was more than a little jealous of the reverence in which the people held Hsiao-tse. But he could not afford to let the occasion pass. So Mr. Chang announced to the village that he would hire caterers for the village feast, and provide some "real" art for the show.

The people welcomed Mr. Chang’s offer, with all due respect, and went about preparing for the event in their own ways. Women wove cloth, men bent metal, boys carved wood, and girls drew pictures and everyone busily created something for the great show in his own way. They built a large but simple shelter, and arranged all their gifts under it. There were big things and little things and clever things and simple things, both beautiful and homely according to the maker’s skill, but all made with warm hearts and deep sincerity to honor their beloved Hsiao-tse. For days before, there was much harvesting of vegetables and gathering of everything necessary for the feast. There was cutting and dicing and cleaning and fussing and when the feast-day morning arrived, steam arose from outside every hut and glorious smells filled the air as great quantities of simple food were prepared.

Just before the feast was to begin, Mr. Chang’s caterers arrived, and with no little fanfare, I might tell you. They were laden with great trays of meat and fancy delicacies. Pushing aside the plain fare of the villagers, they placed their elegant dishes on the best tables, right in front of where the dignitaries would sit. And right in the center of the display of the villagers arts and crafts, a large, beautifully painted screen was set up to conceal Mr. Chang’s special gift until he should choose to unveil it.

That evening Hsiao-tse left his hut on the arm of his grandson for the banquet. Along the way, a little girl came up to him shyly, and gave him a scrap of paper upon which she had scrawled in her childish hand two stick figures - an old man with a long beard, holding a little girl's hand. Squatting down on his painful knees (for one must always speak to children on their level) Hsiao-tse thanked her profusely and told her it was a wonderful and beautiful gift, and sent her on, beaming and skipping joyfully, to join her parents.

“Be sure, Grandson, to add this drawing to the show so that everyone can enjoy it,” said Hsiao-tse, handing it to him.

Everyone was in high good spirits. The villagers enjoyed very much the treat of having such delicacies to eat as they had never seen before. A plate full of the richest foods and desserts was brought to Hsiao-tse, but he only sat and picked at it, as if he were ill, while everyone else feasted. After awhile, he collared a young boy who ran and brought him a great bowl full of rice, which Hsiao-tse proceeded to devour with great gusto. He seemed quite recovered from whatever had ailed him, joining enthusiastically in jokes and songs with the assembly! After considerable singing and dancing, the village elders all made speeches, some of them much too long for the young ones who went to sleep or else ran off to play. They spoke of how wise Hsiao-tse was, and how honored they were to have him living in their own village. And they spoke of how kind he was, and how everyone had benefited from his advice. And a child stood up and said in her tiny voice, “I wuv you Hsiao-tse,” which made everyone laugh and cry and clap their hands very loudly.

Then came the time for the judging of the art, and for Hsiao-tse to choose the piece that he would take home with him. Mr. Chang stood up now to make his speech. He repeated many of the same things the village elders had said, but he did so with great eloquence and many long and fancy words. He spoke of how important art was to the spirit of the people, and congratulated everyone on their attempts to do something nice for Hsiao-tse, and everyone applauded him politely. Then he spoke of a very highly regarded painter from the next canton, and how he had persuaded this artist - for a substantial sum - to prepare something in Hsiao-tse’s honor. With a great flourish, he took away the screen, and everyone gasped at the beautiful piece of fine calligraphy they beheld. Each character was perfectly formed, with unmatched grace and a fluidity of motion rare indeed, even among the masters. The characters stood for three names – the name of the village, of Hsiao-tse, and of Mr. Chang. Proudly Mr. Chang held this magnificent work of art high so everyone could see, and then presented it to Hsiao-tse, who received it respectfully, with a bow and a very serious face.

No doubt believing that his gift would make the judging unnecessary, Mr. Chang began to thank everyone for coming, but Hsiao-tse interrupted him.

“Honored Sir,” he said. “First I must review the works the people have brought in my honor. They have worked hard and diligently for this moment, and I look forward to seeing what they have done.”

With a bow and a wave and as much good grace as he could muster, Mr. Chang returned to his seat, while Hsiao-tse carefully examined each piece on display, commenting and praising and thanking each artist individually for their contribution. At last he came to the last one, and cleared his throat.

“My beloved friends. I thank you for this wonderful gesture to me. I thank you for your hard work and your good will. I thank you for your prayers, and for the love you give to me. I wish that I could take all of these wonderful things home with me, but alas, then where would I lay my head at night?” Everyone laughed gently, for the shelter was bigger than all of Hsiao-tse’s hut, and was quite full. "So I will take this last one with me, and it shall have a place of honor in my home." It was the drawing the little girl had given him on the way to the affair.

Hsiao-tse rolled the drawing on its scrap of paper and tucked it under his arm, and being, after all, rather elderly, he was allowed to go home on his grandson’s arm, while the rest of the village cleaned up.

“Grandfather, I do not understand something,” said the boy as they walked.

“Tell me what is bothering you, Grandson.”

“At dinner tonight, there were so many wonderful things to eat, but you only picked at them and acted as if they were distasteful to you. Then, when you received Mr. Chang’s wonderful gift, you were polite, but you did not smile, while you laughed and admired all the poor things our people made, and chose to take with you this drawing on a piece of waste paper, which is not very good and is worth nothing at all.”

“Oh, Grandson, do you not see? Flavor comes not with the cost of a thing, nor beauty with a price. What gives value to a gift is not how much one pays for it, but with how much love it is given.”