CHAPTER XXXVII. Page 2 _The Dream of the Red Chamber
Ying Ch'un and Hsi Ch'un had a natural aversion for verses. What is more, Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai and Lin Tai-yue were present. As soon therefore as they heard these proposals, which harmonised so thoroughly with their own views, they both, with one voice, approved them as excellent. T'an Ch'un and the others were likewise well aware of their object, but they could not, when they saw with what willingness they accepted the charge insist, with any propriety, upon their writing verses, and they felt obliged to say yes.
"Your proposals," she consequently said, "may be right enough; but in my views they are ridiculous. For here I've had the trouble of initiating this idea of a society, and, instead of my having anything to say in the matter, I've been the means of making you three come and exercise control over me."
"Well then," Pao-yue suggested, "let's go to the Tao Hsiang village."
"You're always in a hurry!" Li Wan remarked. "We're here to-day to simply deliberate. So wait until I've sent for you again."
"It would be well," Pao-ch'ai interposed, "that we should also decide every how many days we are to meet."
"If we meet too often," argued T'an Ch'un, "there won't be fun in it. We should simply come together two or three times in a month."
"It will be ample if we meet twice or thrice a month," Pao-ch'ai added. "But when the dates have been settled neither wind nor rain should prevent us. Exclusive, however, of these two days, any one in high spirits and disposed to have an extra meeting can either ask us to go over to her place, or you can all come to us; either will do well enough! But won't it be more pleasant if no hard-and-fast dates were laid down?"
"This suggestion is excellent," they all exclaimed.
"This idea was primarily originated by me," T'an Ch'un observed, "and I should be the first to play the hostess, so that these good spirits of mine shouldn't all go for nothing."
"Well, after this remark," Li Wan proceeded, "what do you say to your being the first to convene a meeting to-morrow?"
"To-morrow," T'an Ch'un demurred, "is not as good as to-day; the best thing is to have it at once! You'd better therefore choose the subjects, while Ling Chou can fix the metre, and Ou Hsieh act as supervisor."
"According to my ideas," Ying Ch'un chimed in, "we shouldn't yield to the wishes of any single person in the choice of themes and the settlement of the rhythm. What would really be fair and right would be to draw lots."
"When I came just now," Li Wan pursued, "I noticed them bring in two pots of white begonias, which were simply beautiful; and why should you not write some verses on them?"
"Can we write verses," Ying Ch'un retorted, "before we have as yet seen anything of the flowers?"
"They're purely and simply white begonias," Pao-chai answered, "and is there again any need to see them before you put together your verses? Men of old merely indited poetical compositions to express their good cheer and conceal their sentiments; had they waited to write on things they had seen, why, the whole number of their works would not be in existence at present!"
"In that case," Ying Ch'un said, "let me fix the metre."
With these words, she walked up to the book-case, and, extracting a volume, she opened it, at random, at some verses which turned out to be a heptameter stanza. Then handing it round for general perusal, everybody had to compose lines with seven words in each. Ying Ch'un next closed the book of verses and addressed herself to a young waiting-maid. "Just utter," she bade her, "the first character that comes to your mouth."
The waiting-maid was standing, leaning against the door, so readily she suggested the word "door."
"The rhyme then will be the word 'door,'" Ying Ch'un smiled, "under the thirteenth character 'Yuan.' The final word of the first line is therefore 'door'."
Saying this, she asked for the box with the rhyme slips, and, pulling out the thirteenth drawer with the character "Yuan," she directed a young waiting-maid to take four words as they came under her hand. The waiting-maid complied with her directions, and picked out four slips, on which were written "p'en, hun, hen and hun," pot, spirit, traces and dusk.
"The two characters pot and door," observed Pao-yue, "are not very easy to rhyme with."
But Shih Shu then got ready four lots of paper and pens, share and share alike, and one and all quietly set to work, racking their brains to perform their task, with the exception of Tai-yue, who either kept on rubbing the dryandra flowers, or looking at the autumnal weather, or bandying jokes as well with the servant-girls; while Ying Ch'un ordered a waiting-maid to light a "dream-sweet" incense stick.
This "dream-sweet" stick was, it must be explained, made only about three inches long and about the thickness of a lamp-wick, in order to easily burn down. Setting therefore her choice upon one of these as a limit of time, any one who failed to accomplish the allotted task, by the time the stick was consumed, had to pay a penalty.
Presently, T'an Ch'un was the first to think of some verses, and, taking up her pen, she wrote them down; and, after submitting them to several alterations, she handed them up to Ying Ch'un.
"Princess of Heng Wu," she then inquired of Pao-ch'ai, "have you finished?"
"As for finishing, I have finished," Pao-ch'ai rejoined; "but they're worth nothing."
Pao-yue paced up and down the verandah with his hands behind his back. "Have you heard?" he thereupon said to Tai-yue, "they've all done!"
"Don't concern yourself about me!" Tai-yue returned for answer.
Pao-yue also perceived that Pao-ch'ai had already copied hers out. "Dreadful!" he exclaimed. "There only remains an inch of the stick and I've only just composed four lines. The incense stick is nearly burnt out," he continued, speaking to Tai-yue, "and what do you keep squatting on that damp ground like that for?"
But Tai-yue did not again worry her mind about what he said.
"Well," Pao-yue added, "I can't be looking after you! Whether good or bad, I'll write mine out too and have done."
As he spoke, he likewise drew up to the table and began putting his lines down.
"We'll now peruse the verses," Li Wan interposed, "and if by the time we've done, you haven't as yet handed up your papers, you'll have to be fined."
"Old farmer of Tao Hsiang," Pao-yue remarked, "you're not, it is true, a good hand at writing verses, but you can read well, and, what's more, you're the fairest of the lot; so you'd better adjudge the good and bad, and we'll submit to your judgment."
"Of course!" responded the party with one voice.
In due course, therefore, she first read T'an Ch'un's draft. It ran as follows:--
Verses on the Begonia.
What time the sun's rays slant, and the grass waxeth cold, close the double doors. After a shower of rain, green moss plenteously covers the whole pot. Beauteous is jade, but yet with thee in purity it cannot ever vie. Thy frame, spotless as snow, from admiration easy robs me of my wits Thy fragrant core is like unto a dot, so full of grace, so delicate! When the moon reacheth the third watch, thy comely shade begins to show itself. Do not tell me that a chaste fairy like thee can take wings and pass away. How lovely are thy charms, when in thy company at dusk I sing my lay!
After she had read them aloud, one and all sang their praise for a time. She then took up Pao-ch'ai's, which consisted of:
If thou would'st careful tend those fragrant lovely flowers, close of a day the doors, And with thine own hands take the can and sprinkle water o'er the mossy pots. Red, as if with cosmetic washed, are the shadows in autumn on the steps. Their crystal snowy bloom invites the dew on their spirits to heap itself. Their extreme whiteness mostly shows that they're more comely than all other flowers. When much they grieve, how can their jade-like form lack the traces of tears? Would'st thou the god of those white flowers repay? then purity need'st thou observe. In silence plunges their fine bloom, now that once more day yields to dusk.
"After all," observed Li Wan, "it's the Princess of Heng Wu, who expresses herself to the point."
Next they bestowed their attention on the following lines, composed by Pao-yue:--
Thy form in autumn faint reflects against the double doors. So heaps the snow in the seventh feast that it filleth thy pots. Thy shade is spotless as Tai Chen, when from her bath she hails. Like Hsi Tzu's, whose hand ever pressed her heart, jade-like thy soul. When the morn-ushering breeze falls not, thy thousand blossoms grieve. To all thy tears the evening shower addeth another trace. Alone thou lean'st against the coloured rails as if with sense imbued. As heavy-hearted as the fond wife, beating clothes, or her that sadly listens to the flute, thou mark'st the fall of dusk.
When they had perused his verses, Pao-yue opined that T'an Ch'un's carried the palm. Li Wan was, however, inclined to concede to the stanza, indited by Pao-ch'ai, the credit of possessing much merit. But she then went on to tell Tai-yue to look sharp.
"Have you all done?" Tai-yue asked.
So saying, she picked up a pen and completing her task, with a few dashes, she threw it to them to look over. On perusal, Li Wan and her companions found her verses to run in this strain:--
Half rolled the speckled portiere hangs, half closed the door. Thy mould like broken ice it looks, jade-like thy pot.
This couplet over, Pao-yue took the initiative and shouted: "Capital." But he had just had time to inquire where she had recalled them to mind from, when they turned their mind to the succeeding lines:
Three points of whiteness from the pear petals thou steal'st; And from the plum bloom its spirit thou borrowest.
"Splendid!" every one (who heard) them conned over, felt impelled to cry. "It is a positive fact," they said, "that her imagination is, compared with that of others, quite unique."
But the rest of the composition was next considered. Its text was:
The fairy in Selene's cavity donneth a plain attire. The maiden, plunged in autumn grief, dries in her room the prints of tears. Winsome she blushes, in silence she's plunged, with none a word she breathes; But wearily she leans against the eastern breeze, though dusk has long since fall'n.
"This stanza ranks above all!" they unanimously remarked, after it had been read for their benefit.
"As regards beauty of thought and originality, this stanza certainly deserves credit," Li Wan asserted; "but as regards pregnancy and simplicity of language, it, after all, yields to that of Heng Wu."
"This criticism is right." T'an Ch'un put in. "That of the Hsiao Hsiang consort must take second place."
"Yours, gentleman of I Hung," Li Wan pursued, "is the last of the lot. Do you agreeably submit to this verdict?"
"My stanza," Pao-yue ventured, "isn't really worth a straw. Your criticism is exceedingly fair. But," he smilingly added, "the two poems, written by Heng Wu and Hsiao Hsiang, have still to be discussed."
"You should," argued Li Wan, "fall in with my judgment; this is no business of any of you, so whoever says anything more will have to pay a penalty."
Pao-yue at this reply found that he had no alternative but to drop the subject.
"I decide that from henceforward," Li Wan proceeded, "we should hold meetings twice every month, on the second and sixteenth. In the selection of themes and the settlement of the rhymes, you'll all have then to do as I wish. But any person who may, during the intervals, feel so disposed, will be at perfect liberty to choose another day for an extra meeting. What will I care if there's a meeting every day of the moon? It will be no concern of mine, so long as when the second and sixteenth arrive, you do, as you're bound to, and come over to my place."
"We should, as is but right," Pao-yue suggested, "choose some name or other for our society."
"Were an ordinary one chosen, it wouldn't be nice," T'an Ch'un explained, "and anything too new-fangled, eccentric or strange won't also be quite the thing! As luck would have it, we've just started with the poems on the begonia, so let us call it the 'Begonia Poetical Society.' This title is, it's true, somewhat commonplace; but as it's positively based on fact, it shouldn't matter."
After this proposal of hers, they held further consultation; and partaking of some slight refreshments, each of them eventually retired. Some repaired to their quarters. Others went to dowager lady Chia's or Madame Wang's apartments. But we will leave them without further comment.
When Hsi Jen, for we will now come to her, perceived Pao-yue peruse the note and walk off in a great flurry, along with Ts'ui Mo, she was quite at a loss what to make of it. Subsequently, she also saw the matrons, on duty at the back gate, bring two pots of begonias. Hsi Jen inquired of them where they came from. The women explained to her all about them. As soon as Hsi Jen heard their reply, she at once desired them to put the flowers in their proper places, and asked them to sit down in the lower rooms. She then entered the house, and, weighing six mace of silver, she wrapped it up properly, and fetching besides three hundred cash, she came over and handed both the amounts to the two matrons. "This silver," she said, "is a present for the boys, who carried the flowers; and these cash are for you to buy yourselves a cup of tea with."
The women rose to their feet in such high glee that their eyebrows dilated and their eyes smiled; but, though they waxed eloquent in the expression of their deep gratitude, they would not accept the money. It was only after they had perceived how obstinate Hsi Jen was in not taking it back that they at last volunteered to keep it.
"Are there," Hsi Jen then inquired, "any servant-boys on duty outside the back gate?"
"There are four of them every day," answered one of the matrons. "They're put there with the sole idea of attending to any orders that might be given them from inside. But, Miss, if you've anything to order them to do, we'll go and deliver your message."
"What orders can I have to give them?" Hsi Jen laughed. "Mr. Pao, our master Secundus, was purposing to send some one to-day to the young marquis' house to take something over to Miss Shih. But you come at an opportune moment so you might, on your way out, tell the servant-boys at the back gate to hire a carriage; and on its return you can come here and get the money. But don't let them rush recklessly against people in the front part of the compound!"