In epochs of deep peace
When days are lengthening,
The flute sounds and songs are heard
Among the drunken villages.
The Phoenix Car is said to be approaching
With the Emperor,
And each one turns his eye
To the splendor of that procession.
In the reign of Hui Tsung of the Sung
dynasty, near the capital of the East, on the borders
of the Lake of Clearness of Gold, a new wine pavilion
had just been opened, under the sign of The Quick Hedge.
Fan, the landlord, and his brother Erh-lang,
were the proprietors. Neither of them was married;
and their business prospered.
It was the week when Spring melts
into Summer, and men walk abroad in number to enjoy
the freshness and beauty of nature.
One day Erh-lang roamed the lakeside,
delighting in the soft air, and saw, in front of a
teahouse, a ravishing girl of about eighteen, in whose
face, which was as dreamful as the Night Star, flowered
all the blossoms of the time. He stopped, fixed
to the ground with admiration and already riotous
with love. He could not take his eyes from the
rose radiance of this face, peach blossom against flawless
jade; from this slender body, from the rare golden
lotus of these delicate feet. A scarlet hibiscus
in flower framed this phoenix against stirring landscape
of the great lake.
Alas! our emotions do not depend upon
our will. The young girl felt herself looked
upon, and raised her eyes; her soul was at once troubled,
her child’s heart secretly rejoiced. She
thought:
“If I could marry this beautiful
man, I should know many happy moments. But, though
he is there now, where will he be tomorrow? How
can I tell him how to find me again?”
Just then a seller of refreshments
came by with his small vessels on his shoulder.
She called him:
“Have you a little honey-water?”
The merchant set down a bronze vase
on the ground to serve her; but she, with pretended
clumsiness, upset the vase, and said to him:
“Never mind! Come to my house and I will
pay for all. I will give you my name and address.”
Erh-lang pricked his ears, as
she continued: “I am the daughter of Lord
Chou, who lives near the Ts’ao Gate. My
little name is Victorious-Immortal. And I pray
you do not charge too much, for I am not yet betrothed
or married.”
The young lover trembled with joy, saying to himself:
“These words are meant for me, I am sure of
that.”
The merchant was meanwhile protesting, and the young
girl added:
“My father is not at home just
now. But he is terrible, and you will undoubtedly
be prosecuted if you try to rob us.”
Erh-lang earnestly desired to make himself known in his turn, and
being unable to think of any other expedient, he did as the girl had done:
asked for a bowl of cool water, and pretended clumsily to upset the full jar.
He then said: Aya! Here is another misfortune! But it does
not matter. Come to my house, and you shall be well recompensed. I
am Erh-lang,
brother of Fan. We are proprietors of the
pavilion of the quick Hedge.
I am nineteen, and no one has yet cheated me in my
business, I can draw a bow, and am not yet betrothed.”
“Are you not a little mad?”
asked the merchant, looking at him in astonishment.
“Why do you tell me all that? Do you wish
me to act as the go-between for your marriage?
I am an honest man, and have never cheated anybody.”
Hearing her admirer’s words,
the girl rejoiced in her heart. She suggested
to her mother, who was sitting by her, that they should
go away; and rising to her feet, said to the merchant:
“If you will follow us, we will pay you at once.”
But her eyes spoke in reality to the
young man; who walked slowly behind her, admiring
the poise of her gait. In this manner they proceeded
until the two women entered their house. But the
young girl came back almost at once to draw aside
the big door-curtain and to look out at him as he
passed. He went on walking to and fro, as if he
had lost his senses, and did not return to his house
till evening.
From that particular day Victorious-Immortal
remained so strangely affected that she was quite
unable to swallow a grain of rice, or even to touch
a cake. At last, one morning, she was too weak
to rise. Her mother ran to her bed.
“My poor child,” she asked,
“what is the matter with you?”
“I ache all over my body.
I have pains in my head and cough a little.”
Her mother at once thought of calling
in a doctor; but, in the absence of the master of
the house and his servant, there was no man to go
on the errand. But an old female attendant, named
Kind-Welcome, was present and observed:
“The ancient woman Wang lives,
as you know, quite close at hand. She has helped
more than a hundred children into the world. She
can sew, and she can act as go-between; but she can
also feel a pulse and diagnose an illness. Everybody
calls her as soon as there is anything the matter.”
“That is true. Go and fetch her quickly.”
Some few moments later the healer
came and the mother began a long explanation.
But the woman interrupted her:
“I shall know all about it when
I have examined the patient.”
The sick girl put out a wasted hand,
and the woman felt her pulse for a long time.
At last she said:
“You have pains in the head,
and all your body aches. You are in continual
agony, and the earth is hateful to you.”
“That is exactly the case,”
she answered from her bed. “Also I cough
a little.”
“But what has caused this illness?”
As the girl did not answer, this wise
old visitor turned to the mother and the attendant,
and signed them to go away. They dared not refuse,
and left the room.
“Now we are going to cure you.
The illness lies in your heart, and nowhere else.”
“In my heart?” questioned the sick girl.
“You have seen a handsome young
man, and he pleases you. Your suffering rises
from that; is it not so?”
“There is nothing of the sort,” denied
the other.
“Come, come! Tell me the
truth, and I will soon find a means to save your life.”
Seeing a chance to reach to her desire,
little Victorious-Immortal decided to tell everything.
When she had finished, the very old woman said:
“Do not be troubled. I
know one of his relations who has spoken to me of
him. He is intelligent and level-headed.
I shall go and see his brother, to make arrangements
for your marriage, if you finally wish to marry him.”
“You know very well that I do,”
said the sick child with a smile. “But
will my mother consent?”
“Do not be uneasy. I have my methods.”
She was already out of the room, and saying to the
mother:
“I know what is the matter with
your daughter. If you would like me to make it
clear to you, have two cups of wine brought in.”
Kind-Welcome made haste to arrange
all on the table. The healer drank a draught
of burning wine and, turning to the mother, repeated
word for word what the girl had confessed to her,
adding:
And now there is nothing for it but to marry her to Erh-lang, for otherwise
her death is certain.”
“My husband will be away for
a long time yet. I cannot decide without him.”
“You have only to make the arrangements.
You need not celebrate the marriage until after my
Lord’s return. She must be given her desire;
there is no other way of saving her.”
“If the young man is as desirable
as all that ...” the mother murmured uneasily.
“But how shall we bring the thing about?”
“I am going to speak to his
elder brother. I will keep you informed.”
Without further delay, the venerable
go-between went straight to The Pavilion of the Quick
Hedge, where she found Fan behind his counter, and
saluted him:
“Ten thousand happinesses!”
“You come at the right time,”
he answered with a bow. “I was about to
send to beg you to do so. For some days, I assure
you, my brother has not been able to take a morsel
of food. He says that his whole body is aching,
and now he stays in bed. Will you, please, feel
his pulse?”
“I will see him. But it
is better for me to be alone with him.”
“Then I shall not come with you.”
So the old woman went up into the
sick man’s room, and he said to her feebly:
“Mother Wang, it is very long
since I saw you. Alas! You come too late!
My life is finished!”
“In what special way are you
so seriously ill?” she asked, sitting near the
bed and touching his wrist.
After a moment she continued:
“Shall I tell you the name of
your illness? It is called Victorious-Immortal,
little daughter of Chou, and her house is near the
Ts’ao Gate.”
The sick man was startled and sat up:
“How do you know that?”
“Her family has commissioned me to come and
arrange your marriage.”
Immediate happiness revived the young man.
He rose and came down with the wise visitor to his
astonished brother.
“I am cured,” he announced, “And
all goes very well.”
Meanwhile the old woman was saying:
“The family of Chou has sent me especially to
talk to you about a marriage.”
All was soon settled, the first gifts
were exchanged, and the comforted hearts of the two
young people were filled with joy. But they had
to wait Lord Chou’s return before proceeding
with the ceremony.
Chou did not come back until eight
months later. It is needless to say that, when
he did so, all his relations and friends came to drink
cups of wine with him to “wash down the dust
of the journey.” At last his wife told
him what had happened, affirming that all was decided.
But the eyes of the master of the house became round
and white, and he bellowed:
“O filthy imbecile, who gave
you the right to betroth our daughter to a wine merchant?
Is there no son of decent family who would marry her?
Do you wish to make us a laughing-stock?”
While he was thus cursing his wife,
the servant came up to them, crying:
“Come quickly and save the child!
She was behind the door, and heard your cries.
She fell down and is no longer breathing.”
Stumbling in her haste, the mother
ran out. She saw her daughter lying on the ground
and was about to raise her, but her husband prevented
her, saying:
“Leave her! She was bringing
dishonor on us! If she is to die, then let her
die!”
Seeing her mistress held back, Kind-Welcome
bent over the girl. But Chou, with a blow that
made the air whistle between his fingers sent her
against the wall. In his rage, he seized his wife
and shook her roughly, and she howled like a dog.
The neighbors heard her and ran in, fearing that there
was disaster. Soon the room was filled with women,
all talking at the same time. But the master of
it roughly bade them be silent:
“I do not allow any spying upon my private affairs.”
The neighbors retired in discomfort,
and the mother threw herself upon her daughter’s
body, whose ends were already cold. She sobbed:
“You would not have died if
I had come to you. O murderer, you have let her
die of set purpose. You did not want to give her
the four or five thousand ounces which her grandfather
left her.”
He went out, panting like a boar with
anger. The mother did not cease to lament her
loss: her daughter had been so gentle and so clever.
At length the time came to shut down the coffin, and
Chou angrily said to his wife:
“You pretend that I let her
die so as not to lose four thousand ounces? I
order you to put all her jewels in the tomb with her.
That is more than five thousand ounces, one would
think.”
They brought in the wu-tso, the Inspector
of Corpses, and also his assistant, to verify the
death and to help in hearsing her. The keeper
of the family graveyard and his brother, the two Chang,
were also there to assist in the mournful work.
The time came for the funeral, and
the procession went forth from the town. The
coffin was placed in a brick tomb, and the first shovels
of earth were thrown upon it. Then all returned
home. Three feet of cold insensitive earth covered
the body of this young beauty, and it had been full
of love.
Now the Inspector of Corpses had a
worthless fellow named Feng for his assistant.
This miserable boy, on coming back from the cemetery
in the evening, said to his mother: “An
excellent day’s work! Tomorrow we shall
be rich.”
“And what successful stroke
of business have you concluded?”
“Today we buried the daughter
of Chou, and all her jewels were put in the coffin
with her. Instead of leaving them to enrich the
earth, would it not be better to take them?”
“Think before you do such a
terrible thing!” his mother begged. “This
is no matter of a mere whipping. Your father wanted
to do the same thing twenty years ago. He opened
a coffin, and the corpse began to smile at him.
Your father died of that in four or five days.
My son, do not do it. It is no easy matter.”
“Mother,” he answered
simply, “my mind is made up. Do not waste
your breath on me, for that is useless.”
He bent over his bed, and took out
of it a heavy iron tool.
“O mother, not each person’s
destiny is the same. I have consulted soothsayers,
and they have told me that I shall become rich this
year.”
He took also an axe, a leather sack,
and a dark lantern, which he placed in readiness.
Finally he wrapped himself in a great mantle of reeds,
for it was the eleventh moon and the snow had begun
to fall. He made a sort of hurdle with about
ten inter-crossed bamboos, and fastened it behind
his mantle, so that it should drag along the ground
and efface his foot-prints.
The second watch was sounding when
he went out, and all was still bustle and gaiety in
the town. But beyond the walls both silence and
solitude reigned in the growing cold. The snow
was already thick. Who would have ventured out
there?
From time to time he turned his head,
but no one followed him. At last he reached the
wall of the family graveyard and climbed in. Suddenly
a dog ran through the tall grass and leaped at him,
barking. The thief had prepared a portion of
poisoned meat, and threw it to the dog. The beast,
being badly fed, smelt it and swallowed it. He
still barked a little, but the venom was potent, and
he very soon writhed on the ground.
In the keeper’s hut, young Chang
said to his elder brother:
“The dog has started barking,
and then has stopped. Is that not strange?
Perhaps it is a thief. You ought to go and see.”
The elder brother rose from his hot
bed and took up a weapon, grumbling. Then he
opened the door and went out. But he was seized
by a whirl of cold snow, and called to the dog:
“What are you barking for, O animal of the Gods?”
Then he came back and glided under his blankets.
“There is nothing at all. But it is very
cold.”
From the distant town came the far
sound of the gongs and drums of the third watch.
Taking heart, Feng went forward in a snow which deadened
his steps. He quickly shovelled the fresh earth
from the grave, and then lighted his lantern.
Its yellow light lit up but a single point. Forcing
two long crowbars between the joints, he loosened one
brick, and then another. At last the coffin was
uncovered. He inserted his pick under the lid,
and pried it off and laid it on one side. The
corpse was brought to view.
“Small sister,” he murmured.
“I am only going to borrow a little of your
useless wealth. Do not you grudge it me!”
He took the veil from that charming
face. The head was covered with ornaments of
gold, and also with pearls. He took them all.
He was tempted by the fine and silken garments of
the corpse. He stripped it.
But suddenly, the body shook itself
and pushed the thief away with violence. He uttered
a cry of imbecile terror and shrank back. The
corpse had sat up and, in that little light, looked
at the open tomb, the scattered tools, and her own
unclothed body. The wretched lad, obeying instinctive
habit, trembled and lied:
“Little sister, I have come to save you.”
Naturally, when little Victorious-Immortal
had heard the foul Chou’s violent words, her
despair had made her lose all sign of life. It
was for this reason that she had been put in her coffin
while still alive. Aroused now by the cold, her
first thought was to remember her father’s anger.
Her only refuge then was the house of her betrothed,
and she said: “If you will take me to The
Pavilion of the Quick Hedge, you may have a heavy
reward.”
“That is easy,” answered
Feng, seeking in vain for how he should escape.
Ought he to kill her? He hardly
had the courage after such a shock. He decided
to give her back a few clothes. He put the jewels
and his implements in the sack, together with the
extinguished lantern, and quickly covered the grave
with earth again. Then, because the girl was
too weak to walk, he took her on his back and went
away from that place. But instead of going to
Fan’s house, he went to his own. His mother
opened the door to him, and cried in terror:
“Have you stolen the corpse also?”
“Do not speak so loud,” he answered, setting
down his burdens.
He went to his bed, and there put
little Victorious-Immortal. He drew a knife from
his girdle and showed it to the girl:
“Little one, I have some business
to settle with you. If we come to an agreement,
I will take you to Fan’s house. If not,
you very well behold this knife, and I shall cut you
in two pieces.”
“What do you want with me?” she asked.
“You are going to stay here
without making a noise and without trying to escape,
until I take you to Fan. As for the rest, we will
speak of it another time.”
“I will do so! I will indeed do so!”
Then the nasty youth led his mother
into the next room to calm her a little.
“But what are you going to do?” she asked.
“Do you think we can be safe when she has gone
to Fan?”
“I am not going to take her to Fan.”
“What are you going to do, then?”
He gave a country laugh, full of suggestion.
Matters so continued until the fifteenth
day of the first Moon, the evening of the Feast of
Lanterns. Feng went out to see the illuminations,
and also to profit by the opportunities for theft which
are always afforded in a crowd. The evening wore
on, and he had not yet returned, when a shout arose
among the neighbors. Feng’s mother opened
the door to see what was the matter. A fire had
broken out near there. In terror, the old woman
made haste to carry her furniture into the yard.
Profiting by this confusion, the girl slipped through
the door; but in the street she did not know which
way to turn. At last she found the road to the
Ts’ao Gate, and was running in that direction
when she lost herself again. However, when at
length she asked where The Pavilion of the Quick Hedge
might be, she was shown a near way to it.
The attendant was before the door, and she asked him
very politely:
Ten thousand happinesses! Is not this the house of Fan and Erh-lang?”
“Certainly it is, small lady.”
“Could you not lead me to him?”
“Assuredly,” he answered.
He showed her the way, calling from the door to his masters; but when Erh-lang, in
the pale light of the paper lanterns, recognized the
white face of his betrothed, he cried out in dismay:
“Ghost! Ghost!”
Confident in her love, she advanced toward him piteously
repeating:
“Elder brother! Elder brother! I am
alive!”
But he kept recoiling in terror, and crying:
“Help! Help!”
How could he fail to believe himself
in the presence of a ghost, when he had witnessed
the funeral, and had, that very evening, encountered
the wife of Chou in mourning garments?
As she was about to touch him and,
cringing against the wall, he could retreat no further,
his terror redoubled. Not knowing what he did,
he picked up a heavy stool and struck his dear visitor
on the head with it. She fell back, and her head
sounded dully on the stone flags.
Fan ran up at the noise of this.
He saw the woman on the ground, and his brother holding
the stool.
“What have you done?”
he cried. “What is the matter? Was
it you who killed her?”
“She is a ghost,” the other said.
“If she were a ghost, she would not bleed.
What have you done?”
Already some ten persons had come up to see what was the matter. The
street guard came in to them and seized Erh-lang, who kept
on saying: “She is the ghost of Chou’s
daughter. I have killed her.”
Hearing this name, a neighbor ran
to inform Chou, who would not at first believe him.
At length he decided to go to the wine pavilion, where
he was compelled to recognize her, though he kept on
saying:
“I buried her long since!”
Nevertheless, the guard insisted upon leading Erh-lang to prison. Fan had the
doors shut then, and stayed with Chou by the corpse
till morning.
Early next day the Governor inquired
into the matter. The coffin was opened.
It was found empty, and the keepers told how their
dog had been found dead in the snow on the day after
the funeral. In the absence of any completer
explanation, they proceeded with their inquiry.
Erh-lang, in his prison, was
overcome with sorrowful remorse. Sometimes he
said that she could not have survived her burial;
sometimes he was rent with horror at the thought that
she had been alive when he struck her. He recalled
her beauty and grace in Spring by the lake side, and
bitter tears rolled from him. While he was musing
in this way, he saw his cell door open, and the girl
appeared. In his emotion and fear, he cried:
“Are you not dead, my darling?”
“Your blow caused me more grief
than harm. Now I have wakened, and have come
to see you.”
She approached the bench where he
sat, and he took her hand:
“How can I have been so foolish as to fear you?”
They were talking thus, and already,
in their deep love, they were in each other’s
arms. His joy was so keen that suddenly he woke.
It was a dream.
On the second night the same thing
happened, and on the third, and his passion grew stronger
for her. As she was going away the third time,
she said:
“My life on earth had come to
an end, but my love was so great and so potently called
me to you, that the Marshal-of-the-Five-Ways, the
Keeper-of-the-Frontier-of-the-Shadows, allowed me to
come back to you, for these three nights. I must
leave you now. But, if you do not forget, there
will yet be something of me bound to your soul.”
Then she disappeared, and the young
man sobbed most bitterly.
In the end the matter was cleared up by chance. Fengs mother, having
filched a golden trifle from her sons bag, went to sell it to the same jeweler
who had made it for Chou. On being denounced before the Governor, mother
and son were apprehended, and all the jewels were discovered in their house.
Torture found them words, and the whole matter became clear. Erh-lang
had actually believed that he saw a ghost, and was
released. Feng was sentenced to slow death, and
strips were torn one by one from his body by the executioner.
His mother was only strangled.
As for Erh-lang, his heart stayed
faithful to the girl he had so greatly loved.
At every feast he went to the temple of the Marshal-of-the-Five-Ways,
and burned incense, so that the pleasant smoke of
it might ascend to the palace of the soul of little
Victorious-Immortal. His fidelity touched even
the rough heart of Chou and, when he came to die a
few years later, his body was buried in the same tomb
with her whom his arms had known only in sleep.
Nao fan lou to ching sheng hsien (Chou Victorious-
Immortal, of abundant love,
overthrows the
Pavilion of the Fan). Hsing shih
heng yen
(1627), 14th Tale.