The Story of the Chinese Executioner

The endlessly obtuse Mr Barnes writes ‘a telling orf from PH , is similar to six of the best with a feather duster.’ I generally prefer not to respond to this person’s strange off-subject ramblings, but is this the same Mr Barnes who pleaded with me to allow him back here after he was so justly excluded (greatly to the relief of many who found and find his contributions both yawn-inducing and exasperating, though these faults are not , of course, justification for sending him away again)? Perhaps so.

Anyway, his contribution reminds me ( and I wonder if he will understand what I am driving at) of the story of the Chinese Executioner, told long ago by Claud Cockburn. I think it may even be in ‘I’ Claud’, one of the great autobiographies of the 20th century. It runs thus.

 

There was once, in old China, an executioner of such immense skill and delicacy that he was famed throughout the land and called upon from afar to behead condemned miscreants so that witnesses could marvel at his handiwork.

 

One condemned man, a thief and murderer , was told that he must wait for the arrival of this executioner, because the local authorities had decided they wanted to see this master at work. The appointed day came, the criminal was seated , bound, on a stool in front of a carefully-invited audience, all agog.

 

The executioner, smiling gently, advanced towards him, delicately holding an exquisitely-crafted and softly gleaming sword. Playfully, the executioner made a few passes in the air in front of the murderer. He kept up this performance for perhaps two minutes until the malefactor, irritated, cried out ‘I really don’t know what all the fuss is about. What’s so special about you? Can’t you just get on with it, and get it over with?’

 

The executioner bowed, smiled again and said softly ‘ Kindly nod, please’.