g-wang_,
"The Completer."

Accused of scheming to usurp the throne, the Duke resigned his
powers and withdrew from the court. The young prince, opening a
golden casket, found in it a prayer of his uncle, made and sealed
up during a serious illness of the King, imploring Heaven to accept
his life as a ransom for his royal ward. This touching proof of
devotion dispelled all doubt; and the faithful duke was recalled
to the side of the now full-grown monarch.

Even during the minority of his nephew the Duke never entered his
presence in other than full court costume. On one occasion the
youthful king, playing with a younger brother, handed him a palm
leaf saying, "This shall be your patent of nobility. I make you
duke of such and such a place." The regent remonstrated, whereupon
the King excused himself by saying, "I was only in sport." The
Duke replied, "A king has no right to indulge in such sports," and
insisted that the younger lad receive the investiture and
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emoluments. He was also, it is said, so careful of the sacred person
that he never left on it the mark of his rod. When the little king
deserved chastisement, the guardian always called up his own son,
Pechin, and thrashed him soundly. One pities the poor fellow who
was the innocent substitute more than one admires the scrupulous
and severe regent. The Chinese have a proverb which runs, "Whip
an ass and let a horse see it."

What shall be said of the successors of Cheng-wang? To account
for the meagre chronicles of previous dynasties one may invoke
the poverty of a language not yet sufficiently mature for the
requirements of history; but for the seeming insignificance of
the long line of Chous, who lived in the early bloom, if not the
rich fruitage, of the classic period, no such apology is admissible.

Some there were, doubtless, who failed to achieve distinction because
they had no foreign foe to oppose, no internal rebellion to suppress.
Others, again, were so hampered by system that they had nothing
better to do than to receive the homage of vassals. So wearied
was one among them, Mu-wang, the fifth in succession, with those
monotonous ceremonies that he betook himself to foreign travel
as a relief from ennui, or perhaps impelled by an innate love of
adventure. He delighted in horses; and, yoking eight fine steeds
to his chariot, he set off to see the world. A book full of fables
professes to record the narrative of his travels. He had, it says