Lan and Ts’ai: Already it is dawn. Why does Your Honour cry out? Is it time for burning incense?
Chang [tearfully]: It was extraordinary. While asleep, I heard sounds of lamentation. Looking through the window, I saw the ghosts of those who died in battle.
Lan: Last night was All Souls’ Festival.[1] They must all have wandered abroad in hope of salvation.
Chang: But something even stranger occurred.
Ts’ai: Pray, what was that?
Chang: I heard cavalry, drums, and trumpets, and soft music. On opening the door I could see the late Emperor and Empress going east with a procession of martyred officials, as if on their way to Heaven. I lingered by the road until they vanished, and I could not repress my tears.
Lan: It is only natural that their Majesties should go to Heaven, but it was entirely owing to Your Honour’s great loyalty that they revealed themselves to you.
Chang: I have made a solemn vow to hold a memorial service in a beautiful part of Nanking on the fifteenth day of the seventh month next year. A sacrifice will be offered to their Majesties, and a prayer for the salvation of all martyrs. Would you two gentlemen contribute toward the service?
Ts’ai: Of course I’ll share the expenses with you.
Chang: Good man, good man! When I buy books and paintings in Nanking, I’m sure I shall see more of you.
Ts’ai: I hope so.
Lan: Now let us pack and continue on our journey.
All [recite]:
The rain has washed the trees a brighter green;
In the chill dawn, we start beside the river.
The crows caw on and on over desolate tombs,
Sophora petals fall from palace ruins.
Why is the spirit of the Imperial heirs so feeble?
Why are the heads of the generals bowed?
Leaving the central plain, through battlefields,
We totter weeping on our weary way.
[1] All Souls’ Festival or Chung-yuan, fifteenth day of the seventh month, when sacrifices were made to the ancestors and ancestral graves were swept.
PART II
PROLOGUE TO SCENE 21
1644, EIGHTH MONTH
[Enter the old Master of Ceremonies in a broad robe and felt cap.]
Master of Ceremonies [sings]:
The rain-swept autumn streets now glitter clean,
And crimson leaves adorn the urban scene.
Who has an extra pot of rouge to spare,
To give to the actresses as they prepare?
[Recites]:
All done with family cares,
In this garden, cup in hand,
I relish the days of peace
And watch The Peach Blossom Fan.
Voices from backstage: Venerable Sir, are you returning to see this play at the Garden of Tranquillity Theatre?
Master of Ceremonies: Indeed I am.
Voices: You saw the first part yesterday. What did you think of the performance?
Master of Ceremonies: It struck me as both pleasurable and painful. It made me laugh aloud for no special reason, and weep copiously without knowing why, as if it had been written by Ssu-ma C’hien[1] and interpreted by that prodigious actor Tung Fang-shuo.[2] Changes in time and space have blurred the significance of some episodes, and prejudice may blind a few to the underlying truth. [Sings]:
Time whizzes like an arrow: yet again,
Cicadas chirp in willow groves, and lotus pools waft fragrance.
Idly I stroll beside the stream, in flimsy garments clad,
After a rainy night in the festive Northern City.[3]
Again the soul drifts from the sleeper’s pillow
To the shady yard or hamlet, where I hear
The washerwomen pounding with their mallets,
And the hum of autumn insects from the moss,
Gripping the heart, as I saunter with my stick
Along paths all strewn with leaves and fallen wisteria.
A wrinkled skin covers my bony limbs,
Too oft exposed to bitter frost and snow;
The hair is silver-white upon my brow.
Steeped in autumnal sadness, the vagrant’s gloom,
Yet still alive in this resort of pleasure,
I almost begrudge this ancient body of mine.
Family cares, desire for fame and profit,
Are as floating clouds or a running brook to me.
The fury of lords, the rage of ministers,
Are as withered weeds that rustle in the sunset.
I gaze at spring unseeing; like wind-blown ashes
Are the pictures of Han palaces I recall. . .
When the chess-game’s played, and all the guests are scattered,
Who cares which won the victory, white or black?
Historic tombs and temples lie in ruins,
And hills crumble, though fragile flowers return.
All men are gone; the darkening mist descends.
With whom shall I discourse of doughty deeds?
The red sun rolls away the yellow dust,
And even poetry is engulfed by time.
The lawn where dancers of Wu swayed to and fro,
Whirling their sleeves with memorable ease,
Is gone like Hsuan-tsung of T’ang[4] without a trace.
The loftiest poets lay down their pens and sob.
Before the sweetest melodies are sung,
Barely an inch remains of the dripping candle;
Before another scene begins,
Costumes and makeup must be changed again.
Writing is not reality; acts are vain.
He only is wise who knows the very instant
When he should raise the wine-cup to his lips.
Susceptible, despite my load of years,
I steal an amorous glance at crimson skirts,
Heedless if peach flowers mock me from the fan.
In bygone years, reality was the play;
The play becomes reality today.
Twice have I watched its progress: Heaven preserves
This passive gazer with his cold clear eyes.
[Speaks]: Now here comes Ma Shih-ying; please watch closely.
[He bows and exits.]
[1] For Ssu-ma Ch’ien, see Scene 1, n. 6.
[2] Tung Fang-shuo, born 160 B.C., semi-legendary wit who was appointed Censor by the Han emperor Wu-ti. “On one occasion he drank off some elixir of immortality which belonged to the Emperor, and the latter in a rage ordered him put to death. But Tung-fang Shuo smiled and said, “If the elixir was genuine, your Majesty can do me no harm; if it was not, what harm have I done?” (H. A. Giles, Chinese Biographical Dictionary).
[3] The traditional theatre district since the Sung dynasty.
[4] Hsuan-tsung or Ming-huang, the “Illustrious Emperor,” reigned 713–756 over the most brilliant court of the entire T’ang dynasty.
SCENE 21
THE INVENTED MATCH
1644, TENTH MONTH
[Enter Ma Shih-ying with steward and retinue.]
Ma [sings]:
I devote all my care
To the Imperial vessels in the temple hall,
Distributing favours and penalties
To suit my varied interests.
I cling tenaciously to office,
Striking sparks from dry timber to kindle cold ashes.
[Speaks]: As Prime Minister, I wield the greatest power in the land. The new Emperor prefers to do nothing, so I let him wallow in every luxury. I do whatever I please, since half the court are at my beck and call. I have given much thought and skill to winning fresh honours and confounding my foes. Those who say that too many breeds of horses raise too much dust do not realize that I can grant life or death at will, since the Emperor is my ward. [He laughs.] These last few days have been uneventful, and the plum flowers are in bloom. I’m giving a banquet in the Garden of Myriad Jades. The greater the number of guests, the greater my prestige. Life was meant to be enjoyed. Gather riches and fame w
hile you may! [Calls]: Steward, remind me who has been invited.
Steward: The guests are all fellow provincials of Your Excellency. They include Councillor Yang Wen-ts’ung, Censor Yüeh Ch’i-chieh, the new Director of Military Supplies T’ien Yang, and your adviser Juan Ta-ch’eng.
Ma [dubiously]: But Juan Ta-ch’eng is not my fellow-provincial.
Steward: He has been telling people that he is closely related to Your Excellency.
Ma [laughing]: In a sense, that may be true. Since the party consists of old friends, let the banquet be served in the Plum Studio. It is already well past noon. Where are my guests?
Steward: They have been awaiting your call in the antechamber. [Calls]: His Excellency is ready to greet his guests.
Yang and Juan [enter, reciting]:
A steward’s voice may bear prodigious weight
When it resounds within the Premier’s gate. [They greet Ma.]
Ma: Why do you behave like strangers? Brother-in-law Yang, you’re a near relation of mine. Why didn’t you enter at once?
Yang: Even close relations should observe decorum.
Ma: Don’t be pompous. [To Juan]: And you are such an old crony of mine. Why did you wait until you were announced?
Juan: This is the Prime Minister’s mansion. How could I be so informal?
Ma: You are both too ceremonious. [All sit down. Ma sings]:
Now the world belongs to us.
Under the blossoming trees,
We exchange confidences without reserve.
Bosom friends and close relations
Need never cool their heels outside my door.
Never doubt that you and I
Have sprung from the same root.
Wherever we are,
We rekindle our friendship with wine.
Why should we fuss about rank?
Let not my position as Prime Minister
Keep away my favourite guests.
[Tea is served. Ma bows politely, saying]: It is rather chilly. Let us warm ourselves.
Yang and Juan [bowing]: Delighted, Your Excellency.
Ma: I have just returned from Court, yet I find it is past noon. The days are getting too short and the nights too long.
Juan and Yang [bowing]: The seasons vary with regularity. It is a good omen. [Though they finish drinking, they hold their cups until Ma puts his down.]
Ma [to Yang]: I was expecting Masters Yueh and T’ien. What has happened to them?
Yang: Master Yueh is suffering from piles and begs to be excused. Master T’ien is leaving for his new post tomorrow. After escorting his family to the boat, he will come round to say goodbye.
Ma: That’s a pity. We shall have to dine without them. [Music is played while they take their seats, each at a separate table. Ma sings]:
After paying homage to the Emperor,
My sleeves still smell of incense.
I have changed into light fur coat and crimson shoes.
The buds of the plum have burst into scarlet blossoms:
With such brilliant guests I can enjoy the scene at leisure,
Discussing poems and paintings through the night.
Alas, how few achieve such intimate delight.
Juan: May I inquire which guests have already had the honour of being entertained in this mansion?
Ma: Only members of our circle, but none so accomplished as you. Steward, bring me a list of my previous guests.
[Steward presents the list. Juan examines it and reads several names aloud.]
Yang: All these are renowned for their talents.
Ma: They are all men I have promoted to high office.
Juan [bowing]: Even those like me, who were deprived of their former posts, have been generously sustained by Your Excellency, our noble patron. That you should have collected such a galaxy of talent proves that you are as great a Prime Minister as the ancient Duke of Chou.[1]
Ma [bowing]: I am unworthy of the compliment. Both of you are so superior to the others that I shall make a point of recommending you for higher promotion tomorrow.
[Yang bows and Juan kneels before him.]
Yang and Juan: We thank Your Excellency for all your kindness.
Juan [sings]:
Like a forgotten arrow flying to Heaven,
Like a buried sword unsheathed again for battle,
I am reinstated in official rank.
“Dog-skin among the fox fur,” some will say;
Yet after banqueting in this great mansion,
I feel my face caressed by balmy breezes.
The favour now so graciously bestowed
Will prove incalculably beneficial.
Ma: Remove the dishes and bring more wine. Let us indulge in a heart-to-heart talk. [They sit at the same table.] Pray help yourselves and excuse me for not pouring. Let us all be quite informal.
Yang and Juan: We must not put you to trouble.
[Two servants enter to acknowledge the gratuities distributed by Yang and Juan.]
Ma [to Yang and Juan]: You shouldn’t have done that. I merely asked you to enjoy the flowers with me. Besides, I haven’t engaged a troupe of actors to entertain you. Why do you insist on being so punctilious?
Juan: My private players are often idle. If Your Excellency would care to have them, they are entirely at your disposal.
Ma: I had better employ them for other guests. You know them far too well. [Sings]:
Yours is a remarkable company,
The latest songs and dances at their command;
But as these are your own inventions,
They would hardly entertain you.
Juan [sings]:
The hills and water in your famous park
Provide you with the music of nature.
What need for tunes on string and bamboo?
Yang: Famous flowers should be enjoyed with fair women. Now that the plum blossoms are out, theatricals are superfluous, but a lovely singing-girl would be a welcome addition. [Sings]:
The scarlet buds of the plum tree open;
The voice of a lovely girl would add perfection.
Ma [laughing]: Dear brother-in-law, I see that you are amorously inclined. Do you want to be another Mayor of Soochow? [2] [Sings]:
The Mayor of Soochow’s soul
Stirs with longing for a pretty mistress.
[Speaks]: Well, that’s easy to arrange. Steward! Send for some singing-girls as soon as possible.
Steward: Does Your Excellency wish for those from the Old House or from the Pearl Bazaar?
Ma [to Yang]: Which do you prefer, brother-in-law?
Yang: I have seen most of them, but few have any real distinction. Only Fragrant Princess of the Old House has exceptional talent. She can even sing “The Peony Pavilion.”
Ma: Steward, go and fetch her. [Exit Steward.]
Juan [to Yang]: Is that the girl Master T’ien wished to take as a concubine for three hundred silver taels?
Yang: Quite so.
Ma: Why didn’t she accept?
Yang: The wench is absurdly foolish. She wants to preserve her chastity for Hou Fang-yü. That is why she stubbornly refused T’ien’s proposal. I went several times to persuade her, but she would not even come downstairs. It was most annoying.
Ma [angrily]: What impudence for such a slave! [Sings]:
Does she not fear the teeth and claws of rank
That can crush the humble like lice?
Laughable, the fate in store for her,
A moth to the candle-flame.
Juan: It is all because she was spoiled by Hou Fang-yü. Even I was once insulted by her.
Ma [more angrily]: This is preposterous. The new Director of Military Supplies cannot buy a harlot with three hundred taels of silver! [Sings]:
How could a whole basket of pearls
Fail to purchase a moth-browed hussy?
Juan: Moreover, Master T’ien is a fellow provincial of Your Excellency. This insult to him is a serious matter.
Ma: Precisely. Wh
en she arrives I shall give her what she deserves.
Steward [returning]: Your Excellency, I have been to the Old House to enquire for Fragrant Princess, but they told me she was sick and confined to her chamber.
Ma: Whether she is sick or not, you collect a few men, take some money and clothes to her, and force her to consent. [Sings]:
No need to call in the old matchmaker in the moon.
A little red silk,
A decorated litter,
And a gift or two will do the trick.
[Speaks]: Never mind the hussy’s caprices. Just drag her to the litter and bundle her onto Master T’ien’s boat this evening. [Sings]:
In his rapture he will fancy her
The River Goddess on the misty waves.
[Exeunt Steward and servants.]
Juan: That’s the best course, and a mighty good joke too!
Yang: It is getting late, so I shall wish you goodnight.
Ma: The fun has only started. Why leave so early?
Juan: We should not keep Your Excellency up too late. [Juan and Yang both bow.]
Ma: Let me show you to the door.
Yang and Juan: We dare not put you to such inconvenience. [They bow thrice. Exit Ma.]
Juan [to Yang]: Though the Prime Minister has so gallantly sponsored the cause of his fellow countryman, you should also lend a hand, good brother Yang.
Yang: What do you mean?
Juan: The Old House is a favourite haunt of yours. Why don’t you go there yourself, drag the wench downstairs, and speed her on her way?
Yang: We shouldn’t deal too harshly with her.
Juan: Too harshly! It seems to me far too lenient. When I consider her treatment of me, I would gladly put her to death. [Sings]:
The Peach Blossom Fan Page 18