– by Liu Zongyuan (Tang Dynasty)
In the wilds of Yongzhou, there lives a strange snake: black-bodied with white markings. Any grass or tree it touches withers and dies; if it bites a person, nothing can save them. Yet, once captured and dried, it becomes a potent medicine – capable of curing leprosy, paralysis, ulcers, and skin diseases; it removes dead flesh and kills internal parasites.
Originally, the imperial physician, acting on royal command, required two such snakes annually from each household. People were recruited to catch them, and in return, their tax obligations were waived. Thus, the people of Yongzhou eagerly rushed to take up this duty.
There was a man named Jiang who had enjoyed this privilege for three generations. When I asked him about it, he replied: “My grandfather died doing this; my father died doing this. I’ve been at it for twelve years now, and have nearly died several times.” He spoke with a deeply sorrowful expression.
I felt great pity for him and said, “Do you resent this task? I’ll report to the local officials and have your duty changed back to regular taxation – would that be better?”
At this, Jiang burst into tears and cried: “Are you trying to show me kindness by saving my life? But the misfortune of this snake-catching duty is far less than the misery of paying regular taxes! If I hadn’t taken this role, I’d have been ruined long ago. My family has lived in this village for three generations – sixty years now. Yet our neighbors’ lives grow more desperate each day. They exhaust everything their land produces and drain every resource from their homes. They cry out as they flee, collapsing from hunger and thirst. Exposed to wind and rain, scorched by summer heat and frozen by winter cold, breathing miasmic vapors – they die constantly, one upon another.
“Of those who lived with my grandfather, fewer than one in ten remain. Of those who lived with my father, fewer than two or three in ten survive. Of those who’ve lived alongside me these past twelve years, fewer than four or five in ten are left. All have either died or fled – yet I alone survive because of catching snakes.
“When cruel tax collectors come to our village, they shout and rampage east and west, north and south. The chaos terrifies everyone – even chickens and dogs find no peace. But I rise calmly each morning, check my jars, and if my snakes are still alive, I lie down at ease. I feed them carefully and deliver them when due. Afterward, I eat heartily from what my land yields and live out my days in peace. True, I risk death twice a year – but the rest of the time, I live contentedly. How can that compare to my neighbors, who face terror every single day? Even if I die doing this now, I’ll still outlive most of them. How dare I resent it?”
Hearing this, I grew even sadder. Confucius once said, “Harsh government is fiercer than a tiger!” I used to doubt that – now, seeing Jiang’s story, I believe it. Alas! Who would have known that the poison of excessive taxation is worse than this deadly snake?
Thus, I write this account, hoping those who observe the customs and sufferings of the people may take heed.
《捕蛇者说》
唐·柳宗元
永州之野产异蛇：黑质而白章，触草木尽死；以啮人，无御之者。然得而腊之以为饵，可以已大风、挛踠、瘘疠，去死肌，杀三虫。其始太医以王命聚之，岁赋其二。募有能捕之者，当其租入。永之人争奔走焉。
有蒋氏者，专其利三世矣。问之，则曰：“吾祖死于是，吾父死于是，今吾嗣为之十二年，几死者数矣。”言之貌若甚戚者。余悲之，且曰：“若毒之乎？余将告于莅事者，更若役，复若赋，则何如？”蒋氏大戚，汪然出涕，曰：“君将哀而生之乎？则吾斯役之不幸，未若复吾赋不幸之甚也。向吾不为斯役，则久已病矣。自吾氏三世居是乡，积于今六十岁矣。而乡邻之生日蹙，殚其地之出，竭其庐之入。号呼而转徙，饥渴而顿踣。触风雨，犯寒暑，呼嘘毒疠，往往而死者，相藉也。曩与吾祖居者，今其室十无一焉。与吾父居者，今其室十无二三焉。与吾居十二年者，今其室十无四五焉。非死则徙尔，而吾以捕蛇独存。悍吏之来吾乡，叫嚣乎东西，隳突乎南北；哗然而骇者，虽鸡狗不得宁焉。吾恂恂而起，视其缶，而吾蛇尚存，则弛然而卧。谨食之，时而献焉。退而甘食其土之有，以尽吾齿。盖一岁之犯死者二焉，其余则熙熙而乐，岂若吾乡邻之旦旦有是哉。今虽死乎此，比吾乡邻之死则已后矣，又安敢毒耶？”
余闻而愈悲，孔子曰：“苛政猛于虎也！”吾尝疑乎是，今以蒋氏观之，犹信。呜呼！孰知赋敛之毒有甚是蛇者乎！故为之说，以俟夫观人风者得焉。
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