The Peach Blossom Fan
Page 4
Of our fond lovers; he in fetters lay,
While she true heroism did display.
Aided by Su and Liu, with all their might,
The Emperor and his Premier fled by night.
Over the misty waves I gaze and falter:
Who is to chant the patriot’s lament?
The painted fan of peach blossoms was rent,
And true love’s token shattered at an altar.
How matters went astray, we shall disclose.
Voice from backstage: Bravo, bravo! But your masterly trills sometimes made it difficult for us to follow the meaning. Please oblige us with a short outline of the plot.
Master of Ceremonies [sings]:
Within and without the court, traitors Ma and Juan[4] hide their blades;
Liu and Su astutely plot to foil their machinations;
Master Hou’s life of rapture falls into ruin;
Chang the Taoist tells the fates of dynasties in a song.
[Speaks]: Before I have finished speaking, Master Hou steps onto the stage. Your attention please!
[1] K’ang-hsi was the reign-title of the Emperor Sheng-tsu who reigned 1662–1723; hence the date would be 1684. In earlier dynasties an emperor would occasionally change his reign-title in midrule, but the custom from the fifteenth century onwards was for the reign-title to be coterminous with the reign itself. It is thus possible (though strictly speaking, incorrect) to refer to an emperor (e.g., the Emperor Sheng-tsu) by his reign-title (as the Emperor K’ang-hsi or the K’ang-hsi Emperor). In this play, Ch’ung-chen is the reign-title used for the Emperor Chuang-lieh-ti (the last Ming emperor, who ruled from 1628 to 1644), and Hung-kuang is the reign-title assumed by Prince Fu in his attempt, 1644–45, to restore the dynasty.
[2] These magical events were actually legendary happenings of high antiquity.
[3] The author of the Spring and Autumn Annals was Confucius [K’ung Tzu], who also compiled the “classic Odes” or Book of Songs. K’ung Shang-jen, our playwright, counted himself a descendant of Confucius in the sixty-fourth generation. “Mountain Hermit of the Cloud Pavilion” was one of K’ung Shang-jen’s sobriquets.
[4] A note on pronunciation: it is unfortunate that the romanization of the surname Juan suggests a Spanish pronunciation. Actually the initial “j” should be something like a weak French “j.”
PART I
SCENE 1
THE STORYTELLER
1643, SECOND MONTH
[Enter Hou Fang-yü in the robes of a scholar.]
Hou [sings]:
On Grieve-Not Lake beside the Poet’s Tower,[1]
The weeping willows burgeon once again.
The sun is setting: hill and river blend
In perfect beauty, and the traveller is tempted
To drink, recalling beauties long ago,
Painted and powdered in the southern courts.
Sad thoughts come with twilight, while the swallows
Frolic regardless of the fall of kings.
[Recites]:
Hushed is the courtyard, cold the kitchen stove;
And I have risen late from heavy slumber.
Though flowers bloom, fatigue invades the limbs,
And while it rains at every dawn of day,
And trees around the royal tombs decay,
The river swollen with the melted snows
Washes away the palace’s foundations.
I write new poems grieving for the past;
An exile’s sorrow, dreaming dreams of home.
Where will the swallows choose to nest this year,
In my village home far west of the misty waters?
[Speaks]: My name is Hou Fang-yü, and I am a native of Kuei-te in the heart of the empire. I am descended from a long line of scholars and officials; my father and grandfather were Ministers of State, and both set up their standards in the Eastern Forest.[2] Trained in poetry and the classics, I have won distinction in the world of letters and allied myself with the Revival Society. My early writings were influenced by those master-spirits Pan Ku and Sung Yü; in maturity I am drawing nearer to Han Yü and Su Tung-p’o.[3] I have written in praise of wine in the Yueh-hua Palace, despite my reluctance to plant more flowers in the garden at Loyang.[4] Since finishing my examinations last year, I have been staying on the shore of Grieve-Not Lake. But the clouds of war continue to cover us, and news from home is scarce. It is mid-spring and the green grass stretches to the dim horizon, but where shall I find a companion for my homeward journey? The yellow dust rises from the earth, but here I sit in solitary exile. Oh! Grieve Not, Grieve Not! How can I fail to grieve? Fortunately, my literary friends Ch’en Chen-hui and Wu Ying-chi are staying over Ts’ai Yi-so’s bookshop. We often meet and cheer each other’s solitude. Today we shall gather at the Fair City Monastery and enjoy the splendour of the plum blossoms. I must start immediately or I shall be late.
[He proceeds to sing]:
New warmth invades the breeze,
Mist ’whelms the river glade.
We stroll through flowery leas
With wine in jars of jade.
Thrilled by a sudden flute
The pilgrim’s heart is mute.
Don’t pass by Swallow Lane:
New owners are repainting
The lintels of your friends
Who will not come again. [Exit.]
[Enter Ch’en Chen-hui and Wu Ying-chi.]
Ch’en [sings]:
The royal power is fading from Nanking.
The war-flags wave, the drums of battle beat.
One dreads to cross the river, though it flows
So placidly through willow groves and orchards.
[Each announces his name.]
Ch’en: What is the latest news of the roving bandits?
Wu: Yesterday I saw an official report. After defeating the national armies, the bandits are drawing near the capital. Tso Liang-yü, the Earl of Ning-nan, has retreated to Hsiang-yang, and central China is totally unprotected. The fate of the dynasty is sealed. We might as well enjoy the spring while it lasts.
Ch’en and Wu together [singing]:
Spring floods the air, but wind and rain
Have scattered petals of the pear,
And so dawn seems dishevelled and in pain.
Hou [re-entering]: Greetings! So the two of you came betimes.
Wu: Of course. We could not bear to keep you waiting.
Ch’en: I sent my servant ahead to sweep the monastery courtyard and serve refreshments.
Servant [entering in haste]: When it is cold, the wine’s not warm enough; when flowers bloom, the trippers are too many. . . . We arrived too late, Your Honour. Let us all go home.
Ch’en: What do you mean, too late?
Servant: Master Hsu from the Wei Palace is giving a party in honour of the blossoms. The whole monastery is crammed with his guests.
Hou: Let us go up the river then, and visit the beauties of the Water Pavilion.
Wu: Why trouble to go so far? Do you know that brilliant minstrel Liu Ching-t’ing of T’ai-chou? He is highly esteemed by such connoisseurs as the Ministers Fan Ching-wen and Ho Ju-ch’ung, and I hear that he lives nearby. On this languid spring day, would it not be pleasant to listen to him?
Ch’en: That is also a good suggestion.
Hou [angrily]: Pock-marked Liu was a toady of Juan Ta-ch’eng, Bearded Juan, the eunuch’s adopted son. I would rather avoid such a creature.
Wu: Apparently you do not know the facts. Since the despicable Juan persisted in patronising singers and dancers and flattering the powerful at court instead of resigning, I wrote an impeachment exposing his crimes and demanding his punishment. When at last his troupe of artists discovered that he was a member of the treacherous Ts’ui and Wei cliques, they all walked out on him in the middle of a performance, and pock-marked Liu was among them. In my opinion Liu deserves our respect.
Hou: I should never have expected to find such high principles in a man of that sort. Let
us pay him a visit. [They proceed together.]
Hou, Wu, and Chen together [singing]:
Random pipe-notes in the Courts of the Transcendents
Where the secluded Alchemist
Watches “the vast sea turn into mulberry groves.”[5]
Servant: Here we are. I’ll knock at the door. [Shouts]: Is pock-marked Liu at home?
Ch’en: Fie, fie! He is a celebrity: you should address him as Master Liu.
Servant: Master Liu, open the door!
[Enters Liu — a “ch’ou” or comedian type with a white beard, a skull cap, and a blue gown.]
Liu [sings]:
Green moss and weeds grow rank and high
Beside my long-locked door.
Woodsmen and fishingfolk amble nigh
To praise the times of yore.
[Seeing the visitors, he exclaims]: Oh, Masters Ch’en and Wu! Forgive my ignorance of your arrival. Who is the gentleman you have brought along with you?
Ch’en: This is our friend Hou Fang-yü of Honan, whose fame is in the ascendant. He has long admired your art and hopes to hear you.
Liu: I am overwhelmed. Pray be seated and drink some tea. [They sit, and Liu continues]: You gentlemen are such fine scholars, so familiar with the Records of the Historian, the Comprehensive Mirror,[6] or whatever; what pleasure or instruction could you hope to gain from my vulgar discourse? [He points at his courtyard and sings]:
In the forsaken garden, a withered pine leans over a broken wall;
On the fragrant grass of the palace ruins, the silky showers fall.
The Six Great Dynasties’ decay[7] brings thoughts too sad to render;
In telling tales I often weep, because my heart’s too tender.
Hou: You are excessively modest. Please favour us with a sample of your skill.
Liu: Since you honour me with your company, I dare not disappoint you. But I fear that my crude versions of history and blind man’s tales are unworthy of your ears, so I shall comment on a chapter of Confucius’s Analects instead.
Hou: How strange! One would hardly expect you to choose such a theme.
Liu [laughing]: You scholars discuss the Analects, why shouldn’t I? Today you will judge my slender claim to learning. [Recites]:
“I dwell among green hills: you ask me why.
My soul at ease, I smile without reply.
The peach petals are swept along the stream
To other lands outside this mortal dream.”[8]
[He claps his “wakener-board” and continues, speaking]: I shall tell how the crime of three powerful clans who conspired against their ruler was exposed. I shall also tell how wonderously Confucius succeeded in the reform of music. The great doctrine of the Way was on the wane. Avarice and covetousness were deeply embedded in the heart of man. On returning to Lu from the state of Wei, our great Sage began to restore the true principles of music. So profoundly were performers affected by the result that they were ashamed to realize they had been serving the wrong masters, and abandoned those tribes of malefactors. The theatres of the mighty, which had been full of glowing colour and vibrant melody, were deserted in a twinkling. Truly fearsome, truly marvelous was the influence of the Sage! [He sings to drum or ta-ku accompaniment, keeping rhythmic time]:
The great Sage of antiquity was most versatile in magic;
He could sway the wind and rain,
And turn handfuls of peas into armies of warriors.
When he saw that the turbulent nobles
Had lost all sense of propriety in their dancing and music,
He played a subtle trick on them.
Hence the lowest of slaves
Began to behave like the highest of heroes.
[Liu claps his board and continues, speaking]: The first player to leave for the state of Ch’i was good Master Chih. And why did he leave for Ch’i? I’ll tell you. [He drums and sings]:
Alas, he exclaimed,
Why should I ring the bell for these three clans?
I must have been blind to wallow in such mire.
I shall leave at once,
Setting forth with long swift strides towards the northeast;
There I shall join my old comrades and win fresh laurels.
I shall play for the delight of Master K’ung himself,
Who forgot the flavour of meat
For three months after hearing my performance.
And the virtuous Duke Ching
Will also be moved to tears by my art.
Even if the usurpers have swallowed
The heart of a leopard and the gall of a bear,
I doubt if they would pursue me to Ch’i,
The land of Chiang T’ai-kung’s descendants![9]
[Liu claps his board and continues speaking]: The second master’s name was Kan. He left for the state of Ch’u. The third master, Liao, retired to the state of Ts’ai. The fourth one was Ch’üeh, who went to the state of Ch’in. Why did these three leave? I’ll tell you. [He drums and sings]:
All these musicians, who played at every banquet,
Had lost their leader now;
One by one they embarked on a new career.
The second master said: “See the usurper
Grasp his rice-bowl in the hall!
Why should we blow trumpets
And beat drums for his entertainment?
Our leader has left for the state of Ch’i;
Nobody can make him return.
As for me, I propose to play for Hsiung Yi, the King of Ch’u,
Committing myself to his powerful protection.”
The third master said: “Though the state of Ts’ai,
South of the river, is not extensive,
It is near the capital
And in the heart of the central plain.”
The fourth master gazed towards the south and said:
“I can see a new imperial spirit
Rising from the state of Ch’in,
Which has strong armies and fortifications;
Thither I shall take my lute.”
All three of them pointed at the usurpers and said:
“We have endured your tyranny too long;
Henceforth we shall make you wince at the sound of our names.”
[Liu claps his board and continues speaking]: One drummer named Fang Shu went to the Yellow River region, and another named Wu to the Han River region. The junior leader’s name was Yang and the gong-beater’s name was Hsiang, and these repaired to the seacoast. The manner of their leaving was different. I’ll tell you. [He drums and sings]:
Altogether there were four drummers and gong-beaters.
“Our theatre remains in confusion,” said they,
“And we have no desire to stay.
Disgusted with our fiendish patrons,
We shall seek employment elsewhere,
Even though it is unlikely that we shall fare better.
Let us sail a light boat to the Peach Blossom Spring;[10]
At least we may win renown
As fishermen of the lakes and rivers.”
[Liu claps his board and continues speaking]: These four made the wisest decision. Hearken to their speech! [He drums and sings]:
“The trees of coral soar a hundred feet, vermilion in the sunlight;
The crystal palace of the sea-god is built on a terrace of pearls.
The Dragon King will invite us to a banquet
Where golden boys and jade girls excel earthly mortals.
Phoenix flutes and ivory pipes
Will be tuned to the dragon’s most exquisite melodies;
For this time, others will play while we shall listen.
Though the usurpers may try to pursue us down the rivers,
There will be thousands of leagues between us
In which they will lose their way.
We need not fear to be friendless
Among the mountains and distant waters,
For all men within the four seas
And beyo
nd the horizon are our comrades.
We should tear the paper windowpane
And look at the real world.
We have saved ourselves from the abyss by divine inspiration.
Even if sea becomes land, and land sea,
The vision of our Sage endures in the Six Canons.[11]
[Standing up, Liu speaks]: Thank you for listening! I have shown what trifling talents I possess.
Ch’en: Superb! None of our modern pundits could express himself so well. You are indeed a consummate artist.
Wu: Since leaving Juan, Liu has not cared to seek another patron. This last recital was autobiographical.
Hou: I perceive he has a noble character, untainted by worldliness. He is truly one of us. Story-telling is merely one of his minor accomplishments.
Ch’en, Wu, and Hou together [singing]:
The deep red dust is suddenly clear,
And all shines bright as snow.
The warm spring light is suddenly chill;
The Sage solves all below.
[They laugh, and continue]:
Your mocking satire, our delight,
Each phrase at once caress and bite,
The triple beat of Yü-yang drum
To judgment come![12]
Liu [sings]:
Please come another day;
And if to Peach Blossom source
You fail to find the way,
To this old fisherman have recourse.
Wu: Which of your other colleagues left the house of Juan?
Liu: We are all dispersed. Only the master-singer Su K’un-sheng remains in this neighborhood.
Hou: I should like to meet him too, and hope you will both pay me a visit.
Liu: Of course we should be most honoured.
[Each sings a line of the following quatrain]:
Liu:
After my song is sung, the sun is setting.
Ch’en:
The fragrance of fallen petals fills the courtyard.
Wu:
Terraces and towers seem myriad blades of grass.
Hou:
Spiritual discourse and imperial strategy melt into the void.
Illustration: The storyteller Liu Ching-t’ing to the three scholars Hou Fang-yü, Ch’en Chen-hui and Wu Ying-chi: “I fear that my crude versions of history and blind man’s tales are unworthy of your ears.”
[1] Grieve-not Lake and the Poet’s Tower (built for the fourth-century poet Sun Ch’u) were located just to the west of the city wall of Nanking.