Original Text
On the evening of the seventeenth day of the sixth month in the seventh year of the Kangxi reign, around eight or nine o'clock, a great earthquake occurred. At that time, I happened to be lodging in Jixia, drinking by lamplight with my cousin Li Duzhi. Suddenly, we heard a sound like thunder, coming from the southeast and heading toward the northwest. Everyone was astonished, unable to understand the cause. Shortly after, tables and chairs began to sway and shake, wine cups toppled, and beams, rafters, and pillars shifted and groaned with a creaking noise. We looked at each other, our faces turning pale. After a long while, we realized it was an earthquake and hastily rushed out of the house. At that moment, we saw towers and houses sometimes collapsing and then rising again; the sound of walls falling and roofs caving in mingled with the cries of children and the screams of women, rising and falling in a clamor like a boiling cauldron. People were so dizzy they could not stand, so they sat on the ground, rolling with the earth's motion. The river water surged over its banks more than ten feet, and throughout the city, the barking of dogs and crowing of roosters did not cease. After about two hours, things gradually settled. Looking at the streets, men and women, all naked, gathered together, eagerly recounting the events of the earthquake, forgetting that they were not dressed. Later, I heard that in some places, wells had tilted so that water could not be drawn, and in another household, a tower had shifted its orientation from north to south. It was also said that Mount Qixia had split open, and the Yi River had sunk into a great pit several acres in size. Truly, these were extraordinary upheavals.
A woman living in the county seat rose during the night to relieve herself, and upon returning, she saw a wolf carrying off her child in its mouth. Hastily, she struggled with the wolf for the child; just as the wolf loosened its grip, the woman snatched the child back and held it close to her bosom. Yet the wolf remained crouched and would not leave. The woman cried out loudly for help, and when the neighbors gathered running, the wolf fled. Her frightened heart settled, and she could not help but feel relieved, gesturing animatedly as she recounted to everyone how the wolf had seized the child and how she had managed to reclaim it. After speaking for some time, she suddenly realized that she was completely naked, and so she ran away. This incident is just like the time during an earthquake when men and women alike forgot they were unclothed. How laughable it is that in moments of panic and haste, people forget what they ought to mind!
Commentary
Wang Yuyang's "Chibei Outan: Tan Yi" also records this earthquake: "In the sixth month of the Kangxi Wushen year, on the seventeenth day, at the hour of Xu, the provinces of Shandong, Jiangnan, Zhejiang, and Henan all experienced a great earthquake simultaneously, with the three counties of Yi, Ju, and Tan in Shandong being the most severely affected. At Matou Town in Tan County, several thousand people were killed or injured; the earth split and mountains collapsed, sand and water gushed forth, and within the water were many fish and crabs. Moreover, the Heavenly Drum sounded, and bells and drums rang of their own accord. In northern Huaiyang, at Muyang, people saw a dragon rise up in broad daylight, its golden scales gleaming brightly, though the sky was clear and cloudless." In comparison, Wang Yuyang's account employs the historiographical method of recording calamities and anomalies, being objective and covering a wide geographical scope. However, the earthquake recorded in "Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio," being personally witnessed and experienced by the author, is rendered with a novelist's touch. It has a beginning and a process, encompassing panoramic views, close-ups, scenes, and characters, all vividly depicted, making one feel as if watching a disaster film epic. It is likely that the earthquake at Linzi, where Pu Songling was visiting, did not cause great casualties, being a fright without real danger, thus Pu Songling writes with a rather light tone, even tinged with comedic elements. The Kangxi Wushen year corresponds to 1668, when Pu Songling was twenty-nine years old. If the work was written in that year, then "Earthquake" is among the earliest known pieces in "Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio."
When a person's spirit is excessively excited or focused on some crucial matter, they often overlook and omit secondary details—this is an instinctive human mechanism of grasping the major and releasing the minor for self-preservation. In the following tale, a village woman, in her victorious struggle against a wolf to protect her child, "in her shock turning to joy, pointed to heaven and traced the earth," forgetting that "her body was not covered by a single thread," which indeed mirrors the scene in "Earthquake" where on the streets "men and women gathered naked, eagerly telling each other news, all forgetting they were unclothed"—truly "the same condition." Yet this is not "human panic and lack of strategy," but rather a natural and spontaneous outpouring of emotion.