Chapter 37 · Lin Hsiao-Hsiang carries the first prize in the poems on chrysanthemums. Hsueh Heng-wu chaffs Pao-yü by composing verses in the same style as his on the crabs.
in their deliberations, nothing memorable occurred, the whole night,
which deserves to be put on record.
The next day, Hsiang-yün invited dowager lady Chia and her other
relatives to come and look at the olea flowers. Old lady Chia and every
one else answered that as she had had the kind attention to ask them,
they felt it their duty to avail themselves of her gracious invitation,
much though they would be putting her to trouble and inconvenience. At
twelve o'clock, therefore, old lady Chia actually took with her Madame
Wang and lady Feng, as well as Mrs. Hsüeh and other members of her
family whom she had asked to join them, and repaired into the garden.
"Which is the best spot?" old lady Chia inquired.
"We are ready to go wherever you may like, dear senior," Madame Wang
ventured in response.
"A collation has already been spread in the Lotus Fragrance Arbour,"
lady Feng interposed. "Besides, the two olea plants, on that hill,
yonder, are now lovely in their full blossom, and the water of that
stream is jade-like and pellucid, so if we sit in the pavilion in the
middle of it, won't we enjoy an open and bright view? It will be
refreshing too to our eyes to watch the pool."
"Quite right!" assented dowager lady Chia at this suggestion; and while
expressing her approbation, she ushered her train of followers into the
Arbour of Lotus Fragrance.
This Arbour of Lotus Fragrance had, in fact, been erected in the centre
of the pool. It had windows on all four sides. On the left and on the
right, stood covered passages, which spanned the stream and connected
with the hills. At the back, figured a winding bridge.
As the party ascended the bamboo bridge, lady Feng promptly advanced
and supported dowager lady Chia. "Venerable ancestor," she said, "just
walk boldly and with confident step; there's nothing to fear; it's the
way of these bamboo bridges to go on creaking like this."
Presently, they entered the arbour. Here they saw two additional bamboo
tables, placed beyond the balustrade. On the one, were arranged cups,
chopsticks and every article necessary for drinking wine. On the other,
were laid bamboo utensils for tea, a tea-service and various cups and
saucers. On the off side, two or three waiting-maids were engaged in
fanning the stove to boil the water for tea. On the near side were
visible several other girls, who were trying with their fans to get a
fire to light in the stove so as to warm the wines.
"It was a capital idea," dowager lady Chia hastily exclaimed laughingly
with vehemence, "to bring tea here. What's more, the spot and the
appurtenances are alike so spick and span!"
"These things were brought by cousin Pao-ch'ai," Hsiang-yün smilingly
explained, "so I got them ready."
"This child is, I say, so scrupulously particular," old lady Chia
observed, "that everything she does is thoroughly devised."
As she gave utterance to her feelings, her attention was attracted by a
pair of scrolls of black lacquer, inlaid with mother-of-pearl,
suspended on the pillars, and she asked Hsiang-yün to tell her what the
mottoes were.
The text she read was:
Snapped is the shade of the hibiscus by the fragrant oar of a boat
homeward bound.
Deep flows the perfume of the lily and the lotus underneath the
bamboo
bridge.
After listening to the motto, old lady Chia raised her head and cast a
glance upon the tablet; then turning round: "Long ago, when I was
young," she observed, addressing herself to Mrs. Hsüeh, "we likewise
had at home a pavilion like this called 'the Hall reclining on the
russet clouds,' or some other such name. At that time, I was of the
same age as the girls, and my wont was to go day after day and play
with my sisters there. One day, I, unexpectedly, slipped and fell into
the water, and I had a narrow escape from being drowned; for it was
after great difficulty, that they managed to drag me out safe and
sound. But my head was, after all, bumped about against the wooden
nails; so much so, that this hole of the length of a finger, which you
can see up to this day on my temple, comes from the bruises I
sustained. All my people were in a funk that I'd be the worse for this
ducking and continued in fear and trembling lest I should catch a
chill. 'It was dreadful, dreadful!' they opined, but I managed, little
though every one thought it, to keep in splendid health."
Lady Feng allowed no time to any one else to put in a word; but
anticipating them: "Had you then not survived, who would now be
enjoying these immense blessings!" she smiled. "This makes it evident
that no small amount of happiness and long life were in store for you,
venerable ancestor, from your very youth up! It was by the agency of
the spirits that this hole was knocked open so that they might fill it
up with happiness and longevity! The old man Shou Hsing had, in fact, a
hole in his head, which was so full of every kind of blessing conducive
to happiness and long life that it bulged up ever so high!"
Before, however, she could conclude, dowager lady Chia and the rest
were convulsed with such laughter that their bodies doubled in two.
"This monkey is given to dreadful tricks!" laughed old lady Chia.
"She's always ready to make a scapegoat of me to evoke amusement. But
would that I could take that glib mouth of yours and rend it in
pieces."
"It's because I feared that the cold might, when you by and bye have
some crabs to eat, accumulate in your intestines," lady Feng pleaded,
"that I tried to induce you, dear senior, to have a laugh, so as to
make you gay and merry. For one can, when in high spirits, indulge in a
couple of them more with impunity."
"By and bye," smiled old lady Chia, "I'll make you follow me day and
night, so that I may constantly be amused and feel my mind diverted; I
won't let you go back to your home."
"It's that weakness of yours for her, venerable senior," Madame Wang
observed with a smile, "that has got her into the way of behaving in
this manner, and, if you go on speaking to her as you do, she'll soon
become ever so much the more unreasonable."
"I like her such as she is," dowager lady Chia laughed. "Besides, she's
truly no child, ignorant of the distinction between high and low. When
we are at home, with no strangers present, we ladies should be on terms
like these, and as long, in fact, as we don't overstep propriety, it's
all right. If not, what would be the earthly use of making them behave
like so many saints?"
While bandying words, they entered the pavilion in a body. After tea,
lady Feng hastened to lay out the cups and chopsticks. At the upper
table then seated herself old lady Chia, Mrs. Hsüeh, Pao-ch'ai, Tai-yü
and Pao-yü. Round the table, on the east, sat Shih Hsiang-yün, Madame
Wang, Ying Ch'un, T'an Ch'un and Hsi Ch'un. At the small table, leaning
against the door on the west side, Li Wan and lady Feng assigned
themselves places. But it was for the mere sake of appearances, as
neither of them ventured to sit down, but remained in attendance at the
two tables, occupied by old lady Chia and Madame Wang.
"You'd better," lady Feng said, "not bring in too many crabs at a time.
Throw these again into the steaming-basket! Only serve ten; and when
they're eaten, a fresh supply can be fetched!"
Asking, at the same time, for water, she washed her hands, and, taking
her position near dowager lady Chia, she scooped out the meat from a
crab, and offered the first help to Mrs. Hsüeh.
"They'll be sweeter were I to open them with my own hands," Mrs. Hsüeh
remarked, "there's no need for any one to serve me."
Lady Feng, therefore, presented it to old lady Chia and handed a second
portion to Pao-yü.
"Make the wine as warm as possible and bring it in!" she then went on
to cry. "Go," she added, directing the servant-girls, "and fetch the
powder, made of green beans, and scented with the leaves of
chrysanthemums and the stamens of the olea fragrans; and keep it ready
to rinse our hands with."
Shih Hsiang-yün had a crab to bear the others company, but no sooner
had she done than she retired to a lower seat, from where she helped
her guests. When she, however, walked out a second time to give orders
to fill two dishes and send them over to Mrs. Chao, she perceived lady
Feng come up to her again. "You're not accustomed to entertaining," she
said, "so go and have your share to eat. I'll attend to the people for
you first, and, when they've gone, I'll have all I want."
Hsiang-yün would not agree to her proposal. But giving further
directions to the servants to spread two tables under the verandah on
the off-side, she pressed Yüan Yang, Hu Po, Ts'ai Hsia, Ts'ai Yün and
P'ing Erh to go and seat themselves.
"Lady Secunda," consequently ventured Yüan Yang, "you're in here doing
the honours, so may I go and have something to eat?"
"You can all go," replied lady Feng; "leave everything in my charge,
and it will be all right."
While these words were being spoken, Shih Hsiang-yün resumed her place
at the banquet. Lady Feng and Li Wan then took hurry-scurry something
to eat as a matter of form; but lady Feng came down once more to look
after things. After a time, she stepped out on the verandah where Yüan
Yang and the other girls were having their refreshments in high glee.
As soon as they caught sight of her, Yuan Yang and her companions stood
up. "What has your ladyship come out again for?" they inquired. "Do let
us also enjoy a little peace and quiet!"
"This chit Yüan Yang is worse than ever!" lady Feng laughed. "Here I'm
slaving away for you, and, instead of feeling grateful to me, you bear
me a grudge! But don't you yet quick pour me a cup of wine?"
Yüan Yang immediately smiled, and filling a cup, she applied it to lady
Feng's lips. Lady Feng stretched out her neck and emptied it. But Hu Po
and Ts'ai Hsia thereupon likewise replenished a cup and put it to lady
Feng's mouth. Lady Feng swallowed the contents of that as well. P'ing
Erh had, by this time, brought her some yellow meat which she had
picked out from the shell. "Pour plenty of ginger and vinegar!" shouted
lady Feng, and, in a moment, she made short work of that too. "You
people," she smiled, "had better sit down and have something to eat,
for I'm off now."
"You brazen-faced thing," exclaimed Yüan Yang laughingly, "to eat what
was intended for us!"
"Don't be so captious with me!" smiled lady Feng. "Are you aware that
your master Secundus, Mr. Lien, has taken such a violent fancy to you
that he means to speak to our old lady to let you be his secondary
wife!"
Yüan Yang blushed crimson. "Ts'ui!" she shouted. "Are these really
words to issue from the mouth of a lady! But if I don't daub your face
all over with my filthy hands, I won't feel happy!"
Saying this, she rushed up to her. She was about to besmear her face,
when lady Feng pleaded: "My dear child, do let me off this time!"
"Lo, that girl Yüan," laughed Hu Po, "wishes to smear her, and that
hussey P'ing still spares her! Look here, she has scarcely had two
crabs, and she has drunk a whole saucerful of vinegar!"
P'ing Erh was holding a crab full of yellow meat, which she was in the
act of cleaning. As soon therefore as she heard this taunt, she came,
crab in hand, to spatter Hu Po's face, as she laughingly reviled her.
"I'll take you minx with that cajoling tongue of yours" she cried,
"and…."
But, Hu Po, while also indulging in laughter, drew aside; so P'ing Erh
beat the air, and fell forward, daubing, by a strange coincidence, the
cheek of lady Feng. Lady Feng was at the moment having a little
good-humoured raillery with Yüan Yang, and was taken so much off her
guard, that she was quite startled out of her senses. "Ai-yah!" she
ejaculated. The bystanders found it difficult to keep their
countenance, and, with one voice, they exploded into a boisterous fit
of laughter. Lady Feng as well could not help feeling amused, and
smilingly she upbraided her. "You stupid wench!" she said; "Have you by
gorging lost your eyesight that you recklessly smudge your mistress'
face?"
P'ing Erh hastily crossed over and wiped her face for her, and then
went in person to fetch some water.
"O-mi-to-fu," ejaculated Yüan Yang, "this is a distinct retribution!"
Dowager lady Chia, though seated on the other side, overheard their
shouts, and she consecutively made inquiries as to what they had seen
to tickled their fancy so. "Tell us," (she urged), "what it is so that
we too should have a laugh."
"Our lady Secunda," Yüan Yang and the other maids forthwith laughingly
cried, "came to steal our crabs and eat them, and P'ing Erh got angry
and daubed her mistress' face all over with yellow meat. So our
mistress and that slave-girl are now having a scuffle over it."
This report filled dowager lady Chia, Madame Wang and the other inmates
with them with much merriment. "Do have pity on her," dowager lady Chia
laughed, "and let her have some of those small legs and entrails to
eat, and have done!"
Yuan Yang and her companions assented, much amused. "Mistress Secunda,"
they shouted in a loud tone of voice, "you're at liberty to eat this
whole tableful of legs!"
But having washed her face clean, lady Feng approached old lady Chia
and the other guests and waited upon them for a time, while they
partook of refreshments.
Tai-yü did not, with her weak physique, venture to overload her
stomach, so partaking of a little meat from the claws, she left the
table. Presently, however, dowager lady Chia too abandoned all idea of
having anything more to eat. The company therefore quitted the banquet;
and, when they had rinsed their hands, some admired the flowers, some
played with the water, others looked at the fish.
After a short stroll, Madame Wang turned round and remarked to old lady
Chia: "There's plenty of wind here. Besides, you've just had crabs; so
it would be prudent for you, venerable senior, to return home and rest.
And if you feel in the humour, we can come again for a turn to-morrow."
"Quite true!" acquiesced dowager lady Chia, in reply to this
suggestion. "I was afraid that if I left, now that you're all in
exuberant spirits, I mightn't again be spoiling your fun, (so I didn't
budge). But as the idea originates from yourselves do go as you please,
(while I retire). But," she said to Hsiang-yün, "don't allow your
cousin Secundus, Pao-yü, and your cousin Lin to have too much to eat."
Then when Hsiang-yün had signified her obedience, "You two girls,"
continuing, she recommended Hsiang-yün and Pao-ch'ai, "must not also
have more than is good for you. Those things are, it's true, luscious,
but they're not very wholesome; and if you eat immoderately of them,
why, you'll get stomachaches."
Both girls promised with alacrity to be careful; and, having escorted
her beyond the confines of the garden, they retraced their steps and
ordered the servants to clear the remnants of the banquet and to lay
out a new supply of refreshments.
"There's no use of any regular spread out!" Pao-yü interposed. "When
you are about to write verses, that big round table can be put in the
centre and the wines and eatables laid on it. Neither will there be any
need to ceremoniously have any fixed seats. Let those who may want
anything to eat, go up to it and take what they like; and if we seat
ourselves, scattered all over the place, won't it be far more
convenient for us?"
"Your idea is excellent!" Pao-ch'ai answered.
"This is all very well," Hsiang-yün observed, "but there are others to
be studied besides ourselves!"
Issuing consequently further directions for another table to be laid,
and picking out some hot crabs, she asked Hsi Jen, Tzu Chüan, Ssu Ch'i,
Shih Shu, Ju Hua, Ying Erh, Ts'ui Mo and the other girls to sit
together and form a party. Then having a couple of flowered rugs spread
under the olea trees on the hills, she bade the matrons on duty, the
waiting-maids and other servants to likewise make themselves
comfortable and to eat and drink at their pleasure until they were
wanted, when they could come and answer the calls.
Hsiang-yün next fetched the themes for the verses and pinned them with
a needle on the wall. "They're full of originality," one and all
exclaimed after perusal, "we fear we couldn't write anything on them."
Hsiang-yün then went onto explain to them the reasons that had prompted
her not to determine upon any particular rhymes.
"Yes, quite right!" put in Pao-yü. "I myself don't fancy hard and fast
rhymes!"
But Lin Tai-yü, being unable to stand much wine and to take any crabs,
told, on her own account, a servant to fetch an embroidered cushion;
and, seating herself in such a way as to lean against the railing, she
took up a fishing-rod and began to fish. Pao-ch'ai played for a time
with a twig of olea she held in her hand, then resting on the
window-sill, she plucked the petals, and threw them into the water,
attracting the fish, which went by, to rise to the surface and nibble
at them. Hsiang-yün, after a few moments of abstraction, urged Hsi Jen
and the other girls to help themselves to anything they wanted, and
beckoned to the servants, seated at the foot of the hill, to eat to
their heart's content. Tan Ch'un, in company with Li Wan and Hsi Ch'un,
stood meanwhile under the shade of the weeping willows, and looked at
the widgeons and egrets. Ying Ch'un, on the other hand, was all alone
under the shade of some trees, threading double jasmine flowers, with a
needle specially adapted for the purpose. Pao-yü too watched Tai-yü
fishing for a while. At one time he leant next to Pao-ch'ai and cracked
a few jokes with her. And at another, he drank, when he noticed Hsi Jen
feasting on crabs with her companions, a few mouthfuls of wine to keep
her company. At this, Hsi Jen cleaned the meat out of a shell, and gave
it to him to eat.
Tai-yü then put down the fishing-rod, and, approaching the seats, she
laid hold of a small black tankard, ornamented with silver plum
flowers, and selected a tiny cup, made of transparent stone, red like a
begonia, and in the shape of a banana leaf. A servant-girl observed her
movements, and, concluding that she felt inclined to have a drink, she
drew near with hurried step to pour some wine for her.
"You girls had better go on eating," Tai-yü remonstrated, "and let me
help myself; there'll be some fun in it then!"
So speaking, she filled for herself a cup half full; but discovering
that it was yellow wine, "I've eaten only a little bit of crab," she
said, "and yet I feel my mouth slightly sore; so what would do for me
now is a mouthful of very hot distilled spirit."
Pao-yü hastened to take up her remark. "There's some distilled spirit,"
he chimed in. "Take some of that wine," he there and then shouted out
to a servant, "scented with acacia flowers, and warm a tankard of it."
When however it was brought Tai-yü simply took a sip and put it down
again.
Pao-ch'ai too then came forward, and picked up a double cup; but, after
drinking a mouthful of it, she lay it aside, and, moistening her pen,
she walked up to the wall, and marked off the first theme: "longing for
chrysanthemums," below which she appended a character "Heng."
"My dear cousin," promptly remarked Pao-yü. "I've already got four
lines of the second theme so let me write on it!"
"I managed, after ever so much difficulty, to put a stanza together,"
Pao-ch'ai smiled, "and are you now in such a hurry to deprive me of
it?"
Without so much as a word, Tai-yü took a pen and put a distinctive sign
opposite the eighth, consisting of: "ask the chrysanthemums;" and,
singling out, in quick succession, the eleventh: "dream of
chrysanthemums," as well, she too affixed for herself the word "Hsiao"
below. But Pao-yü likewise got a pen, and marked his choice, the
twelfth on the list: "seek for chrysanthemums," by the side of which he
wrote the character "Chiang."
T'an Ch'un thereupon rose to her feet. "If there's no one to write on
'Pinning the chrysanthemums'" she observed, while scrutinising the
themes, "do let me have it! It has just been ruled," she continued,
pointing at Pao-yü with a significant smile, "that it is on no account
permissible to introduce any expressions, bearing reference to the
inner chambers, so you'd better be on your guard!"
But as she spoke, she perceived Hsiang-yün come forward, and jointly
mark the fourth and fifth, that is: "facing the chrysanthemums," and
"putting chrysanthemums in vases," to which she, like the others,
appended a word, Hsiang."
"You too should get a style or other!" T'an Ch'un suggested.
"In our home," smiled Hsiang-yün, "there exist, it is true, at present
several halls and structures, but as I don't live in either, there'll
be no fun in it were I to borrow the name of any one of them!"
"Our venerable senior just said," Pao-ch'ai observed laughingly, "that
there was also in your home a water-pavilion called 'leaning on russet
clouds hall,' and is it likely that it wasn't yours? But albeit it
doesn't exist now-a-days, you were anyhow its mistress of old."
"She's right!" one and all exclaimed.
Pao-yü therefore allowed Hsiang-yün no time to make a move, but
forthwith rubbed off the character "Hsiang," for her and substituted
that of "Hsia" (russet).
A short time only elapsed before the compositions on the twelve themes
had all been completed. After they had each copied out their respective
verses, they handed them to Ying Ch'un, who took a separate sheet of
snow-white fancy paper, and transcribed them together, affixing
distinctly under each stanza the style of the composer. Li Wan and her
assistants then began to read, starting from the first on the list, the
verses which follow:
"Longing for chrysanthemums," by the "Princess of Heng Wu."
With anguish sore I face the western breeze, and wrapt in grief, I
pine for you!
What time the smart weed russet turns, and the reeds white, my heart
is rent in two.
When in autumn the hedges thin, and gardens waste, all trace of you
is
gone.
When the moon waxeth cold, and the dew pure, my dreams then know
something of you.
With constant yearnings my heart follows you as far as wild geese
homeward fly.
Lonesome I sit and lend an ear, till a late hour to the sound of the
block!
For you, ye yellow flowers, I've grown haggard and worn, but who doth
pity me,
And breathe one word of cheer that in the ninth moon I will soon meet
you again?
"Search for chrysanthemums," by the "Gentleman of I Hung:"
When I have naught to do, I'll seize the first fine day to try and
stroll about.
Neither wine-cups nor cups of medicine will then deter me from my
wish.
Who plants the flowers in all those spots, facing the dew and under
the moon's rays?
Outside the rails they grow and by the hedge; but in autumn where do
they go?
With sandals waxed I come from distant shores; my feelings all
exuberant;
But as on this cold day I can't exhaust my song, my spirits get
depressed.
The yellow flowers, if they but knew how comfort to a poet to afford,
Would not let me this early morn trudge out in vain with my
cash-laden
staff.
"Planting chrysanthemums," by the Gentleman of "I Hung:"
When autumn breaks, I take my hoe, and moving them myself out of the
park,
I plant them everywhere near the hedges and in the foreground of the
halls.
Last night, when least expected, they got a good shower, which made
them all revive.
This morn my spirits still rise high, as the buds burst in bloom
bedecked with frost.
Now that it's cool, a thousand stanzas on the autumn scenery I sing.
In ecstasies from drink, I toast their blossom in a cup of cold, and
fragrant wine.
With spring water. I sprinkle them, cover the roots with mould and
well tend them,
So that they may, like the path near the well, be free of every grain
of dirt.
"Facing the chrysanthemums," by the "Old friend of the Hall reclining
on the russet clouds."
From other gardens I transplant them, and I treasure them like gold.
One cluster bears light-coloured bloom; another bears dark shades.
I sit with head uncovered by the sparse-leaved artemesia hedge,
And in their pure and cool fragrance, clasping my knees, I hum my
lays.
In the whole world, methinks, none see the light as peerless as these
flowers.
From all I see you have no other friend more intimate than me.
Such autumn splendour, I must not misuse, as steadily it fleets.
My gaze I fix on you as I am fain each moment to enjoy!
"Putting chrysanthemums in vases," by the "Old Friend of the hall
reclining on the russet clouds."
The lute I thrum, and quaff my wine, joyful at heart that ye are meet
to be my mates.
The various tables, on which ye are laid, adorn with beauteous grace
this quiet nook.
The fragrant dew, next to the spot I sit, is far apart from that by
the three paths.
I fling my book aside and turn my gaze upon a twig full of your
autumn
(bloom).
What time the frost is pure, a new dream steals o'er me, as by the
paper screen I rest.
When cold holdeth the park, and the sun's rays do slant, I long and
yearn for you, old friends.
I too differ from others in this world, for my own tastes resemble
those of yours.
The vernal winds do not hinder the peach tree and the pear from
bursting forth in bloom.
"Singing chrysanthemums," by the "Hsiao Hsiang consort."
Eating the bread of idleness, the frenzy of poetry creeps over me
both
night and day.
Round past the hedge I wend, and, leaning on the rock, I intone
verses
gently to myself.
From the point of my pencil emanate lines of recondite grace, so near
the frost I write.
Some scent I hold by the side of my mouth, and, turning to the moon,
I
sing my sentiments.
With self-pitying lines pages I fill, so as utterance to give to all
my cares and woes.
From these few scanty words, who could fathom the secrets of my heart
about the autumntide?
Beginning from the time when T'ao, the magistrate, did criticise the
beauty of your bloom,
Yea, from that date remote up to this very day, your high renown has
ever been extolled.
"Drawing chrysanthemums," by the "Princess of Heng Wu."
Verses I've had enough, so with my pens I play; with no idea that I
am
mad.
Do I make use of pigments red or green as to involve a task of
toilsome work?
To form clusters of leaves, I sprinkle simply here and there a
thousand specks of ink.
And when I've drawn the semblance of the flowers, some spots I make
to
represent the frost.
The light and dark so life-like harmonise with the figure of those
there in the wind,
That when I've done tracing their autumn growth, a fragrant smell
issues under my wrist.
Do you not mark how they resemble those, by the east hedge, which you
leisurely pluck?
Upon the screens their image I affix to solace me for those of the
ninth moon.
"Asking the chrysanthemums," by the "Hsiao Hsiang consort."
Your heart, in autumn, I would like to read, but know it no one
could!
While humming with my arms behind my back, on the east hedge I rap.
So peerless and unique are ye that who is meet with you to stay?
Why are you of all flowers the only ones to burst the last in bloom?
Why in such silence plunge the garden dew and the frost in the hall?
When wild geese homeward fly and crickets sicken, do you think of me?
Do not tell me that in the world none of you grow with power of
speech?
But if ye fathom what I say, why not converse with me a while?
"Pinning the chrysanthemums in the hair," by the "Visitor under the
banana trees."
I put some in a vase, and plant some by the hedge, so day by day I
have ample to do.
I pluck them, yet don't fancy they are meant for girls to pin before
the glass in their coiffure.
My mania for these flowers is just as keen as was that of the squire,
who once lived in Ch'ang An.
I rave as much for them as raved Mr. P'eng Tsê, when he was under the
effects of wine.
Cold is the short hair on his temples and moistened with dew, which
on
it dripped from the three paths.
His flaxen turban is suffused with the sweet fragrance of the autumn
frost in the ninth moon.
That strong weakness of mine to pin them in my hair is viewed with
sneers by my contemporaries.
They clap their hands, but they are free to laugh at me by the
roadside as much us e'er they list.
"The shadow of the chrysanthemums," by the "Old Friend of the hall
reclining on the russet clouds."
In layers upon layers their autumn splendour grows and e'er thick and
thicker.
I make off furtively, and stealthily transplant them from the three
crossways.
The distant lamp, inside the window-frame, depicts their shade both
far and near.
The hedge riddles the moon's rays, like unto a sieve, but the flowers
stop the holes.
As their reflection cold and fragrant tarries here, their soul must
too abide.
The dew-dry spot beneath the flowers is so like them that what is
said
of dreams is trash.
Their precious shadows, full of subtle scent, are trodden down to
pieces here and there.
Could any one with eyes half closed from drinking, not mistake the
shadow for the flowers.
"Dreaming of chrysanthemums," by the "Hsiao Hsiang consort."
What vivid dreams arise as I dose by the hedge amidst those autumn
scenes!
Whether clouds bear me company or the moon be my mate, I can't
discern.
In fairyland I soar, not that I would become a butterfly like Chang.
So long I for my old friend T'ao, the magistrate, that I again seek
him.
In a sound sleep I fell; but so soon as the wild geese cried, they
broke my rest.
The chirp of the cicadas gave me such a start that I bear them a
grudge.
My secret wrongs to whom can I go and divulge, when I wake up from
sleep?
The faded flowers and the cold mist make my feelings of anguish know
no bounds.
"Fading of the chrysanthemums," by the "Visitor under the banana
trees."
The dew congeals; the frost waxes in weight; and gradually dwindles
their bloom.
After the feast, with the flower show, follows the season of the
'little snow.'
The stalks retain still some redundant smell, but the flowers' golden
tinge is faint.
The stems do not bear sign of even one whole leaf; their verdure is
all past.
Naught but the chirp of crickets strikes my ear, while the moon
shines
on half my bed.
Near the cold clouds, distant a thousand li, a flock of wild geese
slowly fly.
When autumn breaks again next year, I feel certain that we will meet
once more.
We part, but only for a time, so don't let us indulge in anxious
thoughts.
Each stanza they read they praised; and they heaped upon each other
incessant eulogiums.
"Let me now criticise them; I'll do so with all fairness!" Li Wan
smiled. "As I glance over the page," she said, "I find that each of you
has some distinct admirable sentiments; but in order to be impartial in
my criticism to-day, I must concede the first place to: 'Singing the
chrysanthemums;' the second to: 'Asking the chrysanthemums;' and the
third to: 'Dreaming of chrysanthemums.' The original nature of the
themes makes the verses full of originality, and their conception still
more original. But we must allow to the 'Hsiao Hsiang consort' the
credit of being the best; next in order following: 'Pinning
chrysanthemums in the hair,' 'Facing the chrysanthemums,' 'Putting the
chrysanthemums, in vases,' 'Drawing the chrysanthemums,' and 'Longing
for chrysanthemums,' as second best."
This decision filled Pao-yü with intense gratification. Clapping his
hands, "Quite right! it's most just," he shouted.
"My verses are worth nothing!" Tai-yü remarked. "Their fault, after
all, is that they are a little too minutely subtile."
"They are subtile but good," Li Wan rejoined; "for there's no
artificialness or stiffness about them."
"According to my views," Tai-yü observed, "the best line is:
"'When cold holdeth the park and the sun's rays do slant, I long and
yearn for you, old friends.'
"The metonomy:
"'I fling my book aside and turn my gaze upon a twig of autumn.'
is already admirable! She has dealt so exhaustively with 'putting
chrysanthemums in a vase' that she has left nothing unsaid that could
be said, and has had in consequence to turn her thought back and
consider the time anterior to their being plucked and placed in vases.
Her sentiments are profound!"
"What you say is certainly so," explained Li Wan smiling; "but that
line of yours:
"'Some scent I hold by the side of my mouth,….'
"beats that."
"After all," said T'an Ch'un, "we must admit that there's depth of
thought in those of the 'Princess of Heng Wu' with:
"'…in autumn all trace of you is gone;'
"and
"'…my dreams then know something of you!'
"They really make the meaning implied by the words 'long for' stand out
clearly."
"Those passages of yours:
"'Cold is the short hair on his temples and moistened….'
"and
"'His flaxen turban is suffused with the sweet fragrance….;'"
laughingly observed Puo-ch'ai, "likewise bring out the idea of 'pinning
the chrysanthemums in the hair' so thoroughly that one couldn't get a
loop hole for fault-finding."
Hsiang-yün then smiled.
"'…who is meet with you to stay'"
she said, "and
"'…burst the last in bloom.'
"are questions so straight to the point set to the chrysanthemums, that
they are quite at a loss what answer to give."
"Were what you say:
"'I sit with head uncovered….'
"and
"'…clasping my knees, I hum my lays….'
"as if you couldn't, in fact, tear yourself away for even a moment from
them," Li Wan laughed, "to come to the knowledge of the chrysanthemums,
why, they would certainly be sick and tired of you."
This joke made every one laugh.
"I'm last again!" smiled Pao-yü. "Is it likely that:
"'Who plants the flowers?…. …in autumn where do they go? With sandals
waxed I come from distant shores;…. …and as on this cold day I can't
exhaust my song;….'
"do not all forsooth amount to searching for chrysanthemums? And that
"'Last night they got a shower….
And this morn … bedecked with frost,'
"don't both bear on planting them? But unfortunately they can't come up
to these lines:
"'Some scent I hold by the side of my mouth and turning to the moon I
sing my sentiments.' 'In their pure and cool fragrance, clasping my
knees I hum my lays.' '…short hair on his temples….' 'His flaxen
turban…. …golden tinge is faint. …verdure is all past. …in autumn …
all trace of you is gone. …my dreams then know something of you.'
"But to-morrow," he proceeded, "if I have got nothing to do, I'll write
twelve stanzas my self."
"Yours are also good," Li Wan pursued, "the only thing is that they
aren't as full of original conception as those other lines, that's
all."
But after a few further criticisms, they asked for some more warm
crabs; and, helping themselves, as soon as they were brought, from the
large circular table, they regaled themselves for a time.
"With the crabs to-day in one's hand and the olea before one's eyes,
one cannot help inditing verses," Pao-yü smiled. "I've already thought
of a few; but will any of you again have the pluck to devise any?"
With this challenge, he there and then hastily washed his hands and
picking up a pen he wrote out what, his companions found on perusal, to
run in this strain:
When in my hands I clasp a crab what most enchants my heart is the
cassia's cool shade.
While I pour vinegar and ground ginger, I feel from joy as if I would
go mad.
With so much gluttony the prince's grandson eats his crabs that he
should have some wine.
The side-walking young gentleman has no intestines in his frame at
all.
I lose sight in my greediness that in my stomach cold accumulates.
To my fingers a strong smell doth adhere and though I wash them yet
the smell clings fast.
The main secret of this is that men in this world make much of food.
The P'o Spirit has laughed at them that all their lives they only
seek
to eat.
"I could readily compose a hundred stanzas with such verses in no
time,"
Tai-yü observed with a sarcastic smile.
"Your mental energies are now long ago exhausted," Pao-yü rejoined
laughingly, "and instead of confessing your inability to devise any,
you still go on heaping invective upon people!"
Tai-yü, upon catching this insinuation, made no reply of any kind; but
slightly raising her head she hummed something to herself for a while,
and then taking up a pen she completed a whole stanza with a few
dashes.
The company then read her lines. They consisted of—
E'en after death, their armour and their lengthy spears are never
cast
away.
So nice they look, piled in the plate, that first to taste them I'd
fain be.
In every pair of legs they have, the crabs are full of tender
jade-like meat.
Each piece of ruddy fat, which in their shell bumps up, emits a
fragrant smell.
Besides much meat, they have a greater relish for me still, eight
feet
as well.
Who bids me drink a thousand cups of wine in order to enhance my joy?
What time I can behold their luscious food, with the fine season doth
accord
When cassias wave with fragrance pure, and the chrysanthemums are
decked with frost.
Pao-yü had just finished conning it over and was beginning to sing its
praise, when Tai-yü, with one snatch, tore it to pieces and bade a
servant go and burn it.
"As my compositions can't come up to yours," she then observed, "I'll
burn it. Yours is capital, much better than the lines you wrote a
little time back on the chrysanthemums, so keep it for the benefit of
others."
"I've likewise succeeded, after much effort, in putting together a
stanza," Pao-ch'ai laughingly remarked. "It cannot, of course, be worth
much, but I'll put it down for fun's sake."
As she spoke, she too wrote down her lines. When they came to look at
them, they read—
On this bright beauteous day, I bask in the dryandra shade, with a
cup
in my hand.
When I was at Ch'ang An, with drivelling mouth, I longed for the
ninth
day of the ninth moon.
The road stretches before their very eyes, but they can't tell
between
straight and transverse.
Under their shells in spring and autumn only reigns a vacuum, yellow
and black.
At this point, they felt unable to refrain from shouting: "Excellent!"
"She abuses in fine style!" Pao-yü shouted. "But my lines should also
be committed to the flames."
The company thereupon scanned the remainder of the stanza, which was
couched in this wise:
When all the stock of wine is gone, chrysanthemums then use to scour
away the smell.
So as to counteract their properties of gath'ring cold, fresh ginger
you should take.
Alas! now that they have been dropped into the boiling pot, what good
do they derive?
About the moonlit river banks there but remains the fragrant aroma of
corn.
At the close of their perusal, they with one voice, explained that this
was a first-rate song on crab-eating; that minor themes of this kind
should really conceal lofty thoughts, before they could be held to be
of any great merit, and that the only thing was that it chaffed people
rather too virulently.
But while they were engaged in conversation, P'ing Erh was again seen
coming into the garden. What she wanted is not, however, yet known; so,
reader, peruse the details given in the subsequent chapter.