The Crab-Flower Club

by Cao Xueqin

  ‘Well, I didn’t go last time, when it was Uncle She’s birthday,’ said Bao-yu. ‘It will be a bit awkward if I go this time and run into someone from Uncle She’s. I think I’d better stop going to birthdays altogether. In any case, it’s terribly hot, and I should have to dress up for it. And I don’t think Auntie would really mind if I didn’t go.’

  ‘That’s no way to talk!’ said Aroma. ‘There’s no comparison whatever between Sir She and your Aunt Xue. You’re no distance away from her, for a start. And she is your Mother’s sister. I’m sure if you didn’t go she’d wonder what was the matter. If you’re afraid of the heat, why don’t you go first thing in the morning, when it’s still cool? All you need do is make your kotow and drink a cup of tea, and then you can come back again. Surely that would be more civil?’

  ‘Of course you must go!’ said Dai-yu, before he had time to reply. ‘Surely you owe a visit to the person who saved you from the mosquitoes?’

  ‘What mosquitoes?’ said Bao-yu, mystified. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Aroma proceeded to tell him how Bao-chai had sat at his bedside with a fly-whisk beside her while he slept.

  ‘How frightful!’ Bao-yu was most upset. ‘However did I come to be asleep when she was there? And I’d got hardly anything on. How disgusting of me!’

  After that there was no further question, of course. He would definitely be going over for his Aunt Xue’s birthday on the morrow.

  While the three of them were talking, Xiang-yun came in wearing her going-out clothes and looking very dressed-up. Her uncle the Marquis’s people had arrived to fetch her, and she had come to say good-bye. Bao-yu and Dai-yu both rose and invited her to be seated, but she could not stay, so the two of them accompanied her through to the front.

  Xiang-yun was struggling to hold back her tears, for she dared not show her distress openly in front of her uncle’s people. The arrival a few moments later of her dear Bao-chai, who had hurried over specially to see her off, made going back seem even more unbearable. Fortunately Bao-chai, always more perceptive than the others, realized that things would become even more difficult for Xiang-yun if the servants who had come to collect her were to tell her aunt when they got back that she had made a fuss, so she did all she could to hasten her departure.

  The two girls and Bao-yu saw Xiang-yun as far as the inner gate. Bao-yu would have gone further, but Xiang-yun restrained him. Nevertheless, when she had gone a little way towards her carriage, she changed her mind and, turning back, called him to her so that she could whisper a parting request in his ear.

  ‘Remind Her Old Ladyship of me from time to time, will you, in case she forgets? Then perhaps she’ll send someone to invite me over again.’

  Bao-yu gave vigorous assurances that he would do this for her, then, when they had seen her get into her carriage, they all turned and went in again.

  As to what followed, that must be looked for in the following chapter.

  Chapter 37

  A happy inspiration prompts Tan-chun to found the Crab-flower Club

  And an ingenious arrangement enables Bao-chai to settle the chrysanthemum poem titles

  THIS year Jia Zheng was appointed Commissioner for Education in one of the provinces, with instructions to leave for his tour of duty on the twentieth of the eighth month. When the day for his departure arrived, he took leave of his ancestors in the family shrine, kotowed to his mother, and was seen on his way as far as the hostelry of the ‘Tearful Parting’ (the first post-halt on his journey) by Bao-yu and other junior male members of the clan.

  Jia Zheng’s doings after his departure are not recorded in this history; we merely observe that the departure left Bao-yu free to play and idle in the Garden to his heart’s content without the least fear of restraint or reprisal.

  The days in idleness passed by

  To swell the tale of wasted years

  On the day of which we write Bao-yu was feeling very bored. He had returned from perfunctory morning calls on his mother and grandmother and had just finished changing back into his everyday clothes, when Tan-chun’s maid Ebony arrived carrying a carefully-folded letter from her mistress.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve come,’ said Bao-yu, as she handed him the letter. ‘I’d been meaning to see your mistress this morning, but I forgot. How is she? Is she any better?’

  ‘She’s quite better, thank you,’ said Ebony. ‘She’s stopped taking her medicine today. It was only a slight chill that she was suffering from.’

  Bao-yu unfolded the elegant patterned notepaper and glanced at the contents:

  Dear Brother,

  Some nights ago, when the moon came out in a sky freshly clear after the rain, the garden seemed veritably awash with moonlight, and sleep in the face of so rare a spectacle was unthinkable. Thrice the clepsydra had been turned, and still I lingered beneath the tall paulownias, reluctant to go in. But in the end the treacherous night air betrayed me, and by morning I was lamentably indisposed.

  How kind of you to have visited me in my sickroom! and how exquisitely thoughtful to have sent your maid-servant shortly afterwards with solicitous inquiries and with those delicious lychees and the calligraphy by Yan Zhen-qing!

  While I have been lying here quietly on my own, I have been thinking how in the olden days even men whose lives were spent amidst the hurly-burly of public affairs would keep some quiet retreat for themselves with its tiny corner of mountain and trickle of running water; and how they would seek, by whatever arts and blandishments they knew of, to assemble there a little group of kindred spirits to share in their enjoyment of it; and how, on the basis of such leisure-time associations, rhymers’ guilds and poetry clubs were then founded, so that the fleeting inspirations of an idle hour might often be perpetuated in imperishable masterpieces of verse.

  Now although I am no poet myself, I am privileged to live ‘midst rocks and streams’ and in the company of such gifted practitioners of the poetic art as Xue and Lin; and it seems to me a great pity that the romantic courts and pavilions of our Garden should not echo with the jocund carousal of assembled bards, and its flowering groves and blossoming banksides not become places of wine and song. Why should the founding of poetry clubs be the sole prerogative of the whiskered male, and female versificators allowed a voice in the tunable concert of the muses only when some enlightened patriarch sees fit to invite them?

  Will you come, then, and rhyme with us? The pathway to my door is swept to receive you and your arrival is eagerly awaited by

  Your affectionate Sister,

  Tan-chun

  When Bao-yu had finished reading, he clapped his hands delightedly.

  ‘Dear Tan-chun! Bless her poetic soul! I must go and discuss this with her straight away.’

  He strode off immediately, with Ebony following at his heels. But he had got no further than Drenched Blossoms Pavilion when he saw one of the old nannies on duty at the back gate of the Garden hurrying from the opposite direction with a note in her hand. She came up to him when she saw who he was and handed him the note.

  ‘From Mr Yun, sir. He’s waiting at the back gate. He sends his compliments and says would I please give you this.’

  Bao-yu opened it and read.

  Dear Father,

  I have the Honour to present my Humble Duty and hope this finds you as it leaves me in the Best of health, ever since you did me the great Kindness to recognize me as your Son I have been looking for some means of showing my appreciation of your great kindness but so far no opportunity has presented itself, to date. However, thanks to your esteemed Advice I have got to know several Nurserymen also a number of famous gardens and now through this contacts I have come across a very rare Variety of autumn crab flower (Pure White) only very little to be had, but using every means possible I have got two pots of it I hope you will think of me as a real Son and not refuse to keep them for your enjoyment. However, owing to the present Hot Weather I did not like to call in Person as the Young Ladies are outside in the Gard
en a lot owing to the heat, and not wishing to give Inconvenience

  I remain,

  Honoured Father,

  Your Dutiful and Affcte. Son,

  Jia Yun

  Bao-yu laughed when he had finished reading it.

  ‘Is he alone?’ he asked the old woman, ‘or is there someone with him?’

  ‘He’s got a couple of young chaps with him carrying potted plants.’

  ‘I see. Well go back and thank him for me. Tell him it’s very kind of him and I very much appreciate it. And have the pots taken to my room.’

  When he had given these instructions, he continued with Ebony on his way to Autumn Studio. He arrived to find that Bao-chai, Dai-yu, Ying-chun and Xi-chun had all got there before him. They laughed excitedly when they saw him enter.

  ‘Here comes another one!’

  ‘I hadn’t realized that I was so popular!’ said Tan-chun. ‘I wrote to you all more or less on the spur of the moment. It was no more than a tentative suggestion. I had no idea it would meet with this instant response from everybody.’

  ‘It’s a pity you didn’t think of it earlier,’ said Bao-yu. ‘We ought to have started a club long ago.’

  ‘Well I don’t think it’s a pity,’ said Dai-yu. ‘Do, by all means, have a poetry club if you’re all so keen to, only count me out of it, please. I don’t feel up to it.’

  Ying-chun laughed.

  ‘If you’re not, then what about the rest of us?’

  ‘This is no time for false modesty,’ said Bao-yu. ‘Here is a serious proposition and one which we are obviously all enthusiastic about. What we need are some ideas that we can all discuss. Come on, Chai! Let’s hear what you have got to say first, then perhaps we can hear from Cousin Lin.’

  ‘What’s the hurry?’ said Bao-chai. ‘We’re not even all here yet.’

  Just as she was saying that, Li Wan arrived. She smiled at them all as she entered.

  ‘My! What a poetic lot we are! If you are going to have a poetry club, may I propose myself for president? The idea of having one did in fact occur to me earlier in the year, but I thought that as I can’t write poetry myself, a proposal coming from me might seem a bit presumptuous, and I did nothing about it. Now that my poetical sister-in-law has had the same idea, I should like to do what I can to help her get it started.’

  ‘If we are definitely going to have a poetry club,’ said Dai-yu, ‘then as members of the club we are all equals and fellow-poets. We can’t go on calling ourselves “cousin” and “sister-in-law” all the time.’

  ‘I quite agree,’ said Li Wan. ‘We ought to choose pen-names to sign our poems with, then we can use them for addressing each other by as well. I shall call myself “Farmer Sweet-rice”. I don’t suppose anyone else will want that title.’

  ‘I shall call myself “Autumn Studio”,’ said Tan-chun.

  ‘That’s pretty unoriginal!’ said Bao-yu. ‘Can’t you do any better than that? You’ve got all those paulownias and plantain-trees around your place: can’t you make a name out of them?’

  ‘All right,’ said Tan-chun. ‘I’m very fond of my plantains. I shall call myself “Under the Plantains”.’

  ‘That’s very original,’ said the others admiringly. But Dai-yu laughed.

  ‘Come on, everybody!’ she said. ‘Pop her in the stew-pot! We’ll have a nice piece of venison with our wine.’

  As no one could understand this recondite joke, Dai-yu undertook to explain it for them.

  “Under the plantains” is where the woodcutter in the old Taoist parable hid the deer he had killed; so the allusion means “a deer”. In calling herself by that pen-name, Cousin Tan is therefore offering herself to her fellow-members as venison for them to feast on in their carousals.’

  ‘Oh, all right, Miss Clever!’ said Tan-chun. ‘ “Plantain Lover”, then. You wait! I’ll be even with you yet. I’ve got just the name for her,’ she told the others. ‘When the Emperor Shun died, his two queens are supposed to have gone along the banks of the river Xiang looking for him. According to the legend, the two queens turned into river goddesses and their tears became thé spots you find on the bamboos that grow along the banks of the river. That’s why there’s a kind of bamboo called “Naiad’s Tears”. Well now, Cousin Dai lives in the Naiad’s House, and she cries so much that I shouldn’t be at all surprised if one of these days the bamboos in her courtyard all turned out to have spots on them; so I think the best pen-name for her would be “River Queen”.’

  The others, applauding, agreed that this was exactly the right name for Dai-yu. Dai-yu herself hung her head and said nothing.

  ‘I’ve thought of one for Bao-chai,’ said Li Wan. ‘Not regal, like Dai-yu’s, but aristocratic, at any rate. What do you all think of “Lady All-spice”?’

  ‘I think the title becomes her very well,’ said Tan-chun.

  ‘What about me?’ said Bao-yu. ‘Isn’t anyone going to think of a name for me?’

  ‘Oh, you!’ said Bao-chai. ‘The obvious one for you is “Busybody” – because you are always so busy doing nothing.’

  ‘Why not stick to your old pen-name, “Lord of the Flowers”?’ said Li Wan.

  ‘Do you have to embarrass me by reminding me of my youthful indiscretions?’ said Bao-yu.

  ‘No, let me choose your name,’ said Bao-chai. ‘Actually I’ve already thought of one. It sounds a bit common, perhaps, but I think it suits you. You are a very lucky person, living in such luxurious and beautiful surroundings and you enjoy an exceptional amount of leisure – in fact, I can’t think of anyone who combines quite so much luck with quite so much leisure – so I suggest “Lucky Lounger” as the most suitable pen-name for you.’

  Bao-yu laughed good-humouredly.

  ‘You are flattering me! – I think you’d better all call me by whatever name each of you fancies.’

  ‘No, that won’t do,’ said Dai-yu. ‘As you live in the House of Green Delights, why don’t we simply call you “Green Boy”?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the others. ‘Good.’

  ‘Now, what names are we going to have for Cousin Ying and Cousin Xi?’ said Li Wan.

  ‘Neither of us is much good at poetry,’ said Ying-chun. ‘There doesn’t seem much point in having any.’

  ‘No, I think you ought to have pen-names,’ said Tan-chun.

  ‘As Ying-chun lives on Amaryllis Eyot, she could be “Amaryllis Islander”, and as Xi-chun lives by the Lotus Pavilion, she could be “Lotus Dweller”,’ said Bao-chai. ‘That would seem to be the simplest solution.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Li Wan. ‘Those names will do very nicely. Now, I’m the eldest here, so I’m going to propose some conditions that I’d like you all to agree to. I don’t think you’ll have much difficulty in doing so when you’ve heard what they are. The first one is that as three out of the seven of us founding this club – that’s to say Cousin Ying, Cousin Xi and myself – are no good at writing poetry, I propose that the rest of you should let us off versifying and allow us to act as your officers instead.’

  ‘ “Cousin Ying”? “Cousin Xi”?’ said Tan-chun. ‘What’s the good of inventing all these new names if you’re not going to use them? I think that from now on there ought to be a penalty for not using them.’

  ‘First things first,’ said Li Wan. ‘Let’s get the club properly founded, and we can talk about penalties later on. I suggest that the club should hold its meetings at my place, because I’ve got the most room. I can’t write poetry myself, but if you don’t object to having so illiterate a person as your host, I’m sure that as time goes by I shall grow more poetical and refined under your influence.

  ‘My next condition is that you should make me your president. And as I shan’t be able to manage all the official business on my own, I should like to be allowed to co-opt two vice-presidents. I therefore nominate Amaryllis Islander and Lotus Dweller as my assistants, one to set the themes and rhymes in our competitions and the other to act as invigilator and copyist.

 
‘And lastly, although we three officers don’t have to do any versifying, we should not be precluded from trying our hand at it if we want to. So if there is ever a fairly simple subject with easy rhymes and we feel like joining in, we should be allowed to do so. The rest of you, of course, have no option.

  ‘Well, those are my conditions. If you agree to them, I’ll be glad to help you found the club. If not, I don’t think there would really be much point in my tagging along.’

  The proposed arrangement was highly agreeable to Ying-chun and Xi-chun, neither of whom had much enthusiasm for writing poetry – least of all in competition with experts like Bao-chai and Dai-yu – and they assented readily. The rest, when they saw how willingly Ying-chun and Xi-chun acquiesced, felt that they could scarcely object themselves and added their assent – though Tan-chun did remark, somewhat ruefully, that it seemed a little hard, when she was the one who had thought of the idea in the first place, that she should now have these other three sitting in judgement over her.

  ‘Right,’ said Bao-yu. ‘That’s all settled. Let’s all move over to Sweet-rice Village, then.’

  ‘You’re always in such a hurry!’ said Li Wan. ‘Today’s meeting is just a preliminary discussion. Now you will have to wait for me to issue an invitation.’

  ‘Before we do anything else,’ said Bao-chai, ‘we had better decide how often we are going to meet.’

  ‘Not too often, I hope,’ said Tan-chun, ‘otherwise it will no longer be a pleasure. I suggest not more than two or three times a month.’

  ‘Twice a month will be quite enough,’ said Bao-chai. ‘Once we’ve decided which two days to meet on, we should undertake always to turn up on those two days, wet or fine. At the same time, we should be allowed to arrange additional meetings outside the fixed dates as and when the fancy takes any of us to do so. If we leave it that much flexible, it will be more enjoyable.’

  The others agreed that this was a good proposal and should be adopted.