The Pavilion of Forgotten Concubines

by Wiersinga, Pim;

  Weigong kept his word: after sunset he came back. Immediately, we asked him how the Emperor could have made such a gigantic shift in regard to Heshen.

  The eunuch came up with a most convincing answer: the Emperor cringed at the prospect of being accused, after His abdication, of crimes committed in his name. And the strongman, who had only recently perpetrated most of those crimes, was now to turn the “tide of rebellion”, as those in power were pleased to call secret activities by White Lotus and others. It could even be, Weigong added, that Heshen’s demise had been staged from beginning to end, that the mob had been soothed with a show trial and a make-believe death sentence,with Heshen himself in the know. Once popular vindictiveness would simmer down, Heshen was to be pardoned—acquittal as well as judgment drafted in advance.

  ‘In brief, everything stays the same!’ I cried out. ‘Then why can’t I stay in Peking!’

  I said this to put Weigong to the test, whereupon the eunuch urged me, in the strongest of terms, to leave the Capital at once. I belonged in Nanking, he opined; in these northern parts I would never take root. But why Nanking, of all places? What did Weigong know—suspect—of my opium-immersed past in that city, masquerading as a latter-day courtesan? Of him I knew nothing—nothing that inspired trust. To me, Weigong was a double-faced spectre,serving both White Lotus and Heshen. Make light of it as much as you like, Ti Qing, but I know Heshen holds a deep and abiding grudge against me; he will never forgive a woman of the literati class for outsmarting him at each and every encounter. So what could be more convenient than whisking me off to Nanking to vent that grudge, unimpeded by rival factions in the capital, or by Peking’s many Lin Daiyu worshippers who might be intent on taking his life!

  To Weigong I said bluntly: ‘Give me one reason why I should trust you!’

  Surprise tactics didn’t daunt the eunuch in the least. ‘Even if you do not place your trust in me, Your Ladyship, you must leave the capital.’ And with a hushed voice he added: ‘I am well-connected, Lady, and I am offering my services.’

  ‘Well-connected!’ I exclaimed. ‘With Heshen I am sure.’

  Weigong didn’t flinch; instead, he drew a thin scroll from a sleeve; it was sealed. ‘Postpone your verdict till you’ve read this. Go on, Lady: open it.’

  The concubines, thrilled by these momentous events, flocked around us.

  Censor Qian Qianlin To Lady Cao

  Don’t let this heading deter you, Cao Baoqin. Had I still been serving the Emperor, I would refer to myself as Chief Censor, my former official title; I have lost it now. I’m but a humble subject, bereft of honours and entitlements, smarting under a corrupt dynasty, driven from a Court which forfeited the Mandate of Heaven. I perforce must lie low at my estate near Nanking.

  Do not grieve for me. Under any circumstances, poets paint poetry: with a Censor it is much the same. Our true calling is to distinguish genuine words from feigned ones, croaking from singing, bluff from grandeur. Thus, we keep the Empire of Heaven on track—provided we are being listened to, which is, lamentably, not the case in this doomed era.

  Though we have never met, it was I who inspected your contribution to the Court Gazette. The text lingers in my memory; if the discretion of my erstwhile office had not prevented it, I would have approached you, as I noticed a remarkable talent. Your pen competes with the rapier of delicate Japanese verse, your tone recalls Peony Pavilion, your dialogue has the suppleness found in Dream of the Red Chamber: in brief, your article was replete with literary echoes that were subtle and never sullied your feminine originality. I might have altered a word or two, not to curtail talent but to forestall unpleasantness.

  Alas! Beijing’s strongman smelled blood: at the behest of Heshen your article was printed before I could curtail it to what pleases the Court. As was to be expected, and as Heshen slyly foresaw, your article roused the displeasure of the Emperor Himself, Who then proceeded to give me short shrift. I could only save my hide by obliging: my one choice in the matter was to lay down my office. But I shall never forget my calling; I shall forever remain the Empire’s watchdog—of my own accord, and without rank, driven by vocation alone. And you, Lady, shall play a part in this. A major part!

  This letter will be handed to you by the eunuch Weigong. Through him I am cognizant of your plight. You ‘have permission’ to leave Beijing. In a Decree issued by the Emperor, this means you are being exiled, no less; if you remain in the capital your life won’t be worth a tael.

  Now why would the Emperor treat you so? What causes him to act in such an apparently appalling fashion?

  Things aren’t what they seem, Lady. I suspect that the retiring Son of Heaven, though shrouded in a mist of opium, has come to realize that Heshen, now at large again, covets your undoing.

  I don’t know if you are aware, but your Court Gazette article contributed considerably to the disgrace which clouds the Grand Councillor’s reputation. His enemies gloated when they read it; his friends and allies were dismayed. And beyond Heshen’s successful effort to get me out of office, your publication had unforeseen side effects: it has even been instrumental to Heshen’s near-demise! And in the mind of the Councillor the delusion took hold that it was you who had hurled him into misery. An overstatement to be sure, but I do know that you are and will remain the one woman he could not bully into obedience: he’ll be intent on revenge. Hence His Majesty’s Decree—he is offering you a road to safety! Yes, the Emperor must have a soft spot for you that he should protect you against his most loyal servant.

  Make for Nanking, dear Lady; avoid the main roads. You will find me in Flower Paradise, an inn reserved for northbound travellers, who move towards the capital instead of away from it, as I am sure you recall. Though you are southbound, eunuch Weigong will hand you the required travel documents, so that the innkeeper will welcome you nonetheless. Also, Weigong will accompany you en route: he too has decided to turn his back on the Emperor and to break free from the opium pipe.

  Do not tarry, dear Lady. The Mandate is lost for good. Perhaps the Emperor Himself will be tried for atrocities perpetrated in his name. Soon, the dynasty shall perish—not by the sword but by the pen alone! And Your talent will complement mine, Lin Daiyu. How I look forward to our meeting in Nanking!

  Qian Qianlin

  ‘Read!’ the women pleaded. ‘Read it to us, Baoqin—please, please?!’

  I was thrilled, yet hesitant. Qian alluded to an exciting appointment in a remote city, an opportunity for me, and conveniently on the way to Macao, but it would be painful for the concubines, who were to be left behind.

  ‘Why don’t you read this first?’ And Weigong handed me a copy of the Court Gazette: a source of news denied us, even in a pavilion enclosed by those blood-red walls of the Forbidden City. For the first time, I read my own article in print. I appreciated Qian’s enthusiasm, but I could not help blushing with shame and anger while reading how kindly I had depicted Heshen’s brutal interrogation.

  Weigong also produced a copy of Qian Qianlin’s resignation missive to the Court, in which the former Censor lucidly explains his findings on Dream of the Red Chamber and praises my article in glowing terms. And the concubines were in agreement:

  Compelling article, Baoqin; how brave you are!

  Qianlin is right to resign!

  Wish we could read the real book!

  Such were the praises the concubines bestowed on me, the former Censor, and Cao Xueqin, almost in one breath. I looked at their circle of smiles, elated. Then Old Concubine Chun Xian came to mind, and I begged my fellow pavilion-dwellers forgiveness, for I was about to leave them. Of course, I would be happy to take any letters, souvenirs, or gifts to Old Concubine with me. I remembered I would have to entrust these to Weigong, and I exhausted myself in apologies for my initial suspicion of him.

  Between us, Ti Qing, I’m still somewhat wary of the eunuch; I can’t help it, though I’m aware you hold
him in esteem. In no way do I doubt your powers of observation, dear envoy, but he’s a eunuch after all, who has always relied exclusively on Imperial favours, and on the Imperial opium for his well-being, such as it was. Should I trust him?

  I was still asking myself this question when, next morning, the eunuch guided me out of the Forbidden City, accompanied by three servants who carried my belongings.

  Why did the gatekeepers merely wave us through? We passed your embassy: a torn curtain, flapping out of an open window, lit up by a low and frozen sun. I was so worried, Ti Qing! Anything could have happened to you. Weigong merely remarked that you had departed from Peking, Isaac. Oddly enough, he volunteered this off-hand, and only after the edifice had come in sight, which hardly recommended him as trustworthy. Whither you went, or under what conditions you fled, he knew not—no clarification,no details, no hint even, and not the slightest sign of true interest in your plight, while you demonstrated your confidence by entrusting him with your letter to me. Instead,Weigong treated me to atrocious tales about the violence rampant in the capital, ever since the Emperor had spared Heshen’s life. And as if to corroborate those tales, I noticed that some storefronts had been smashed to bits. In brief, the eunuch did little if anything to assuage my fears. I am left with your letter, my only solace, my last token of your all-too-short presence in Peking.

  After leaving the city gate, again without query or impediment, Weigong drew close to me and walked by my side. I soon seemed to become accustomed to a eunuch near me, yet inwardly I recoiled; I had no desire to strengthen our bond or know of his painful past. The few things Old Chun Xian had disclosed about his life had filled me with pity, but condescension as well; a twang of revulsion even, rather than the admiration Old Concubine bore him.

  In hushed-up tones that the subservient trio couldn’t overhear, Weigong started talking to me. ‘My esteemed helpers will follow another path; I am to travel with you.’

  Weigong will accompany you en route: he too decided to turn his back on the Emperor and to break free from the opium pipe. In spite of the Censor’s encouraging words, I had misgivings. Would it not be conspicuous to travel with someone dressed in a palace eunuch’s attire? Taking good care not to offend him, I said something to this effect, but Weigongreplied complacently that he had taken other garments along and foresaw no difficulties; all those details of our onward journey had been prepared to perfection.

  But why the divergence of path? Why were those three servants to pursue a different route? And why the secrecy of conversation? I harboured a mounting uneasiness.

  Merely to break the silence, I asked: ‘So Nanking is our destination?’

  ‘Yes.’ He stopped walking, and our company came to a halt—soon to be beleaguered by whirring hornets, even at this time of year, lured by the half-frozen dung on the fields. ‘We shall reconvene with our servants there. In Flower Paradise, to be exact.’ He grimaced, briefly. ‘Where you are to encounter the Censor.’

  ‘Ah! And what about my things?’

  ‘It’s safer that you be separated from your belongings. The servants know nothing, my lady: they deliver for payment, that’s all.’

  For payment—so they could be bribed! I panicked, and it was only then that I remembered Chun Xian’s stricture: I was not to take my belongings with me.

  And the next thing I thought of was my novel. ‘Separated from reed-pen, rice-paper, and scrolls—my work in progress!’ Already, I envisioned the pirate prints. Of course I kept this to myself, lest the eunuch get ideas.‘What if I desire to write while we travel?’

  ‘We will buy new stationery. No: I will give it!’ I saw him smiling for the first time, and in that moment I perceived the handsome adolescent he had been, as well as his protracted grief after his ‘treatment’, mutilation rather, etching his face into a grim façade. ‘My present to you!’

  ‘You are too kind, Weigong.’

  I saw him blush. Well, he tried hard to please me, that much I had to concede; I was being utterly heartless. To conceal my deepening embarrassment, I bombarded him with questions. How to find a store? And where? Not in these hamlets.

  ‘In Tianjin, Lady! Besides, you shall need perfumes and such.’

  ‘Tianjin—where the Grand Canal starts! Are we to travel by boat?’

  ‘We won’t, but they will,’ he replied with a nod to the trio, waiting at a respectful distance. ‘It’s easier by boat. And cheaper.’

  ‘Why don’t we join them, then?’

  Weigong offered me another one of his broad smiles. ‘We shall hire donkeys—at the expense of Mr Qian.’ This was followed by a mischievous grin. ‘Hopefully you do deem the Censor trustworthy!’

  ‘Oh, but you I trust as well, Weigong!’

  I wish I could have said this with conviction, and for a fleeting moment I was humiliated by the memory of your splendid generosity, Ti Qing, in giving each person his due; my soul would have perished in Deshima had it not been for your kindness. Now I extended my trust because I had no choice—and the eunuch knew it. During the journey ahead of us we would be dependent on each other.

  

  On stiff-haired donkeys we are proceeding through wintry lands, Isaac, day after day… The weather roughens, it’s getting colder. Soon the first snow falls: flakes and squalls alternate or combine to impede our journey, and though we travel due south, with the wind gusting to our rear, I am dazed by its thunderous roar.

  Gradually, the eunuch is rising in my esteem. With impressive dexterity, he deals with the various tea sellers, gate-wards, and innkeepers en route, graciously leaving me to my thoughts—a mixed blessing at best. He has shed his palatial garb. Yet it seems in his power to shield me against throngs of merchants, townspeople, villagers, and idlers; no one in those crowds ever recognizes the beloved Lin Daiyu.

  But Weigong is, I sense, silent for other reasons as well; he has worries of his own. He hopes for and fears the impending encounter with the maidservant—the love that prompted Weigong’s father to have his testicles chopped off. When he thinks of her—he tells me one night—and even when he doesn’t, old desires come back in full force; they accumulate in his heart, without finding an outlet, and render him desperate until they tilt into the all-too-familiar craving for the opium of which he’s now bereft. It’s a craving I once knew myself; I understand through what he’s going. I notice the trembling hand, see the sweat on his brow—an ordeal I know he has to endure alone. I offer my sympathy; I cannot offer help.

  I have been free of the poppy for years, but in one hostel after another I devote my sleepless nights to you, dear Isaac. Although we may never meet again, perhaps for that very reason, I wrack my brains over your proposal or desire to marry. Let me confess that I am fond of you, Ti Qing. But your part of the world attracts me not. And so I chose, or perhaps drifted into, the embrace of the White Lotus. Yet I am, despite all this, unfailingly attached to you! By uttering feelings in this world I err / Again these welling tears, which I perforce restrain—words belonging to lovely poetess Shuangqing, yet the feelings are mine. They sweep me to my doom the moment you show up at the Summer Palace,in the pavilion of Literature’s Deity! And now my head is spinning. Thinking of you, Ti Qing, I’m overcome by bliss—as melancholic as my gloom is radiant.

  Let it be! Why desire the impossible? And yet, I miss you so!

  And you never received an answer to your proposal. I am sorry: I do not see an answer. Oh, I know you withdrew the offer to marry, but that was dictated by circumstances no longer in force; we no longer suffer constraints imposed by Palace proximity—any proximity for that matter. What’s more, I know your deepest desire… I wonder: do you know it yourself? In your country, a simple yes or no suffices; in my country (if it still is mine) matters are different. Marriages are arranged; they involve families, not persons—which is either awkward or easy in my case, depending on how you look at it: my relatives have vanished or die
d.

  I am under the impression that, until recently, things were not so different in the West. Did not those two young lovers in Xekasupiro perish because their families feuded? Alas, that fine duo erred by wishing to marry for love, for passion, for what we call qing. The inordinate desire to marry, courting disaster, seems endemic to your part of the word! For all your liberty-loving rhetoric, this desire strikes me as a grave error of judgement. Believe me, Ti Qing: marriage is a yoke. And I, a former courtesan who kissed the refinements of a forlorn era back to life, refuse to go under it. Of course, the moon bites the tail of the cat, passion gets the better of one, and because these concepts,and others such as possessing ‘virtue’ or being ‘a man ofhonour’—despicable notions all! were instilled in you at too tender an age, you have ended up assuming that true passion, passion worth its name, should perforce lead to the decency of marriage, as if to atone for Lust’s indecent wildness. Aren’t you forgetting something?

  Marriage is a yoke, Isaac, as you of all persons should know. But mired in desire, you expect no yoke, see no yoke: aren’t both our souls in harmony? Yet I know and foresee that this yoke will rend our shoulders and make them bleed.

  The horror! Merely because I shun the yoke, I cannot see your face, hear your voice, touch you.

  I now regret I joined Weigong to the South—as I would have regretted joining you to the West. Listen: a courtesan yearns, like any woman, for True Love. It is the one ideals he cherishes, knowing full well that it cannot come to pass, never: she has good reasons to establish herself as a courtesan. Why? To nourish dreams—being aware that dreams will, nay must remain dreams. True Love can only exist in that ethereal mode. I would have rejected your proposal in no uncertain terms had it not meant rejection of your person as well. Never would I fail you!