path by which he had entered; but every door was securely barred, and
he knew not what to do. So he went back to the kiosque, when suddenly
one of the young ladies appeared, and asked him in astonishment what
he did there. “I have lost my way,” replied Ch‘ên; “I pray you lend me
your assistance.” “Do you happen to have found a red handkerchief?”
said the girl. “I have, indeed,” answered Ch‘ên, “but I fear I have
made it somewhat dirty;” and, suiting the action to the word, he drew
it forth, and handed it to her. “Wretched man!” cried the young lady,
“you are undone. This is a handkerchief the princess is constantly
using, and you have gone and scribbled all over it; what will become
of you now?” Ch‘ên was in a great fright, and begged the young lady
to intercede for him; to which she replied, “It was bad enough that
you should come here and spy about; however, being a scholar, and a
man of refinement, I would have done my best for you; but after this,
how am I to help you?” Off she then ran with the handkerchief, while
Ch‘ên remained behind in an agony of suspense, and longing for the
wings of a bird to bear him away from his fate. By-and-by, the young
lady returned and congratulated him, saying, “There is some hope for
you. The Princess read your verses several times over, and was not at
all angry. You will probably be released; but, meanwhile, wait here,
and don’t climb the trees, or try to get through the walls, or you may
not escape after all.” Evening was now drawing on, and Ch‘ên knew not,
for certain, what was about to happen; at the same time he was very
empty, and, what with hunger and anxiety, death would have been almost
a happy release. Before long, the young lady returned with a lamp in
her hand, and followed by a slave-girl bearing wine and food, which
she forthwith presented to Ch‘ên. The latter asked if there was any
news about himself; to which the young lady replied that she had just
mentioned his case to the Princess who, not knowing what to do with
him at that hour of the night, had given orders that he should at once
be provided with food, “which, at any rate,” added she, “is not bad
news.” The whole night long Ch‘ên walked up and down unable to take
rest; and it was not till late in the morning that the young lady
appeared with more food for him. Imploring her once more to intercede
on his behalf, she told him that the Princess had not instructed them
either to kill or to release him, and that it would not be fitting for
such as herself to be bothering the Princess with suggestions. So
there Ch‘ên still remained until another day had almost gone, hoping
for the welcome moment; and then the young lady rushed hurriedly in,
saying, “You are lost! Some one has told the Queen, and she, in a fit
of anger, threw the handkerchief on the ground, and made use of very
violent language. Oh dear! oh dear! I’m sure something dreadful will
happen.” Ch‘ên threw himself on his knees, his face as pale as ashes,
and begged to know what he should do; but at that moment sounds were
heard outside, and the young lady waved her hand to him, and ran away.
Immediately a crowd came pouring in through the door, with ropes ready
to secure the object of their search; and among them was a slave-girl,
who looked fixedly at our hero, and cried out, “Why, surely you are
Mr. Ch‘ên, aren’t you?” at the same time stopping the others from
binding him until she should have reported to the Queen. In a few
minutes she came back, and said the Queen requested him to walk in;
and in he went, through a number of doors, trembling all the time with
fear, until he reached a hall, the screen before which was ornamented
with green jade and silver. A beautiful girl drew aside the bamboo
curtain at the door, and announced, “Mr. Ch‘ên;” and he himself
advanced, and fell down before a lady, who was sitting upon a dais at
the other end, knocking his head upon the ground, and crying out,
“Thy servant is from a far-off country; spare, oh! spare his life.”
“Sir!” replied the Queen, rising hastily from her seat, and extending
a hand to Ch‘ên, “but for you, I should not be here to-day. Pray
excuse the rudeness of my maids.” Thereupon a splendid repast was
served, and wine was poured out in chased goblets, to the no small
astonishment of Ch‘ên, who could not understand why he was treated
thus. “Your kindness,” observed the Queen, “in restoring me to life, I
am quite unable to repay; however, as you have made my daughter the
subject of your verse, the match is clearly ordained by fate, and I
shall send her along to be your handmaid.” Ch‘ên hardly knew what to
make of this extraordinary accomplishment of his wishes, but the
marriage was solemnized there and then; bands of music struck up
wedding-airs, beautiful mats were laid down for them to walk upon, and
the whole place was brilliantly lighted with a profusion of coloured
lamps. Then Ch‘ên said to the Princess, “That a stray and unknown
traveller like myself, guilty of spoiling your Highness’s
handkerchief, should have escaped the fate he deserved, was already
more than could be expected; but now to receive you in marriage--this,
indeed, far surpasses my wildest expectations.” “My mother,” replied
the Princess, “is married to the King of this lake, and is herself a
daughter of the River Prince. Last year, when on her way to visit her
parents, she happened to cross the lake, and was wounded by an arrow;
but you saved her life, and gave her plaster for the wound. Our
family, therefore, is grateful to you, and can never forget your good
act. And do not regard me as of another species than yourself; the
Dragon King has bestowed upon me the elixir of immortality, and this I
will gladly share with you.” Then Ch‘ên knew that his wife was a
spirit, and by-and-by he asked her how the slave-girl had recognised
him; to which she replied, that the girl was the small fish which had
been found hanging to the dolphin’s tail. He then inquired why, as
they didn’t intend to kill him, he had been kept so long a prisoner.
“I was charmed with your literary talent,” answered the Princess, “but
I did not venture to take the responsibility upon myself; and no one
saw how I tossed and turned the livelong night.” “Dear friend,” said
Ch‘ên; “but, come, tell me who was it that brought my food.” “A trusty
waiting-maid of mine,” replied the Princess; “her name is A-nien.”
Ch‘ên then asked how he could ever repay her, and the Princess told
him there would be plenty of time to think of that; and when he
inquired where the king, her father, was, she said he had gone off
with the God of War to fight against Ch‘ih-yu,[37] and had not
returned. A few days passed, and Ch‘ên began to think his people at
home would be anxious about him; so he sent off his servant with a
letter to tell them he was safe and sound, at which they were all
overjoyed, believing him to have been lost in the wreck of the boat,
of which event news had already reached them. However, they were
unable to send him any reply, and were considerably distressed as to
how he would find his way home again. Six months afterwards Ch‘ên
himself appeared, dressed in fine clothes, and riding on a splendid
horse, with plenty of money, and valuable jewels in his
pocket--evidently a man of wealth. From that time forth he kept up a
magnificent establishment; and in seven or eight years had become the
father of five children. Every day he kept open house, and if any one
asked him about his adventures, he would readily tell them without
reservation. Now a friend of his, named Liang, whom he had known since
they were boys together, and who, after holding an appointment for
some years in Nan-fu, was crossing the Tung-t‘ing Lake, on his way
home, suddenly beheld an ornamental barge, with carved wood-work and
red windows, passing over the foamy waves to the sound of music and
singing from within. Just then a beautiful young lady leant out of one
of the windows, which she had pushed open, and by her side Liang saw a
young man sitting, in a _négligé_ attitude, while two nice-looking
girls stood by and shampooed[38] him. Liang, at first, thought it
must be the party of some high official, and wondered at the scarcity
of attendants;[39] but, on looking more closely at the young man, he
saw it was no other than his old friend Ch‘ên. Thereupon he began
almost involuntarily to shout out to him; and when Ch‘ên heard his own
name, he stopped the rowers, and walked out towards the
figure-head,[40] beckoning Liang to cross over into his boat, where
the remains of their feast was quickly cleared away, and fresh
supplies of wine, and tea, and all kinds of costly foods spread out by
handsome slave-girls. “It’s ten years since we met,” said Liang, “and
what a rich man you have become in the meantime.” “Well,” replied
Ch‘ên, “do you think that so very extraordinary for a poor fellow like
me?” Liang then asked him who was the lady with whom he was taking
wine, and Ch‘ên said she was his wife, which very much astonished
Liang, who further inquired whither they were going. “Westwards,”
answered Ch‘ên, and prevented any further questions by giving a signal
for the music, which effectually put a stop to all further
conversation.[41] By-and-by, Liang found the wine getting into his
head, and seized the opportunity to ask Ch‘ên to make him a present
of one of his beautiful slave-girls. “You are drunk,[42] my friend,”
replied Ch‘ên; “however, I will give you the price of one as a pledge
of our old friendship.” And, turning to a servant, he bade him present
Liang with a splendid pearl, saying, “Now you can buy a Green
Pearl;[43] you see I am not stingy;” adding forthwith, “but I am
pressed for time, and can stay no longer with my old friend.” So he
escorted Liang back to his boat, and, having let go the rope,
proceeded on his way. Now, when Liang reached home, and called at
Ch‘ên’s house, whom should he see but Ch‘ên himself drinking with a
party of friends. “Why, I saw you only yesterday,” cried Liang, “upon
the Tung-t‘ing. How quickly you have got back!” Ch‘ên denied this, and
then Liang repeated the whole story, at the conclusion of which, Ch‘ên
laughed, and said, “You must be mistaken. Do you imagine I can be in
two places at once?” The company were all much astonished, and knew
not what to make of it; and subsequently when Ch‘ên, who died at the
age of eighty, was being carried to his grave, the bearers thought the
coffin seemed remarkably light, and on opening it to see, found that
the body had disappeared.
FOOTNOTES:
[31] Literally, a “pig old-woman dragon.” Porpoise (Fr.
_porc-poisson_) suggests itself at once; but I think fresh-water
dolphin is the best term, especially as the Tung-t‘ing lake is many
hundred miles inland. The commentator explains it by _t‘o_, which
would be “alligator” or “cayman,” and is of course out of the
question. My friend, Mr. L. C. Hopkins, has taken the trouble to make
some investigations for me on this subject. He tells me that this
fish, also called the “river pig,” has first to be surrounded and
secured by a strong net. Being too large to be hauled on board a boat,
it is then driven ashore, where oil is extracted from the carcase and
used for giving a gloss to silk thread, &c.
[32] Literally, in the utter absence of anybody.
[33] In passing near to the women’s quarters in a friend’s house, it
is etiquette to cough slightly, that inmates may be warned and
withdraw from the doors or windows in time to escape observation. Over
and over again at interviews with mandarins of all grades I have heard
the rustling of the ladies’ dresses from some coigne of vantage,
whence every movement of mine was being watched by an inquisitive
crowd; and on one occasion I actually saw an eye peering through a
small hole in the partition behind me.
[34] Literally, “bald”--_i.e._, without the usual width and
ornamentation of a Chinese lady’s sleeve.
[35] Small waists are much admired in China, but any such artificial
aids as stays and tight lacing are quite unknown. A certain Prince Wei
admitted none but the possessors of small waists into his harem; hence
his establishment came to be called the _Palace of Small Waists_.
[36] Probably of felt or some such material, to prevent the young lady
from slipping as she stood, not sat, in the swing.
[37] A rebel chieftain of the legendary period of China’s history, who
took up arms against the Emperor Huang Ti (B.C. 2697-2597), but was
subsequently defeated in what was perhaps the first decisive battle of
the world.
[38] This favourite process consists in gently thumping the person
operated upon all over the back with the soft part of the closed
fists. Compare Lane, _Arabian Nights_, Vol. I., p. 551:--“She then
pressed me to her bosom, and laid me on the bed, and continued gently
kneading my limbs until slumber overcame me.”
[39] See No. LVI., note 315. A considerable number of the attendants
there mentioned would accompany any high official, some in the same,
the rest in another barge.
[40] Generally known as the “cut-wave God.”
[41] At all great banquets in China a theatrical troupe is engaged to
perform while the dinner, which may last from four to six hours, drags
its slow length along.
[42] See No. LIV., note 292.
[43] The name of a celebrated beauty.
LXX.
THE PRINCESS LILY.
At Chiao-chou there lived a man named Tou Hsün, otherwise known as
Hsiao-hui. One day he had just dropped off to sleep when he beheld a
man in serge clothes standing by the bedside, and apparently anxious
to communicate something to him. Tou inquired his errand; to which the
man replied that he was the bearer of an invitation from his master.
“And who is your master?” asked Tou. “Oh, he doesn’t live far off,”
replied the other; so away they went together, and after some time
came to a place where there were innumerable white houses rising one
above the other, and shaded by dense groves of lemon-trees. They
threaded their way past countless doors, not at all similar to those
usually used, and saw a great many official-looking men and women
passing and repassing, each of whom called out to the man in serge,
“Has Mr. Tou come?” to which he always replied in the affirmative.
Here a mandarin met them and escorted Tou into a palace, upon which
the latter remarked, “This is really very kind of you; but I haven’t
the honour of knowing you, and I feel somewhat diffident about going
in.” “Our Prince,” answered his guide, “has long heard of you as a
man of good family and excellent principles, and is very anxious to
make your acquaintance.” “Who is your Prince?” inquired Tou. “You’ll
see for yourself in a moment,” said the other; and just then out came
two girls with banners, and guided Tou through a great number of doors
until they came to a throne, upon which sat the Prince. His Highness
immediately descended to meet him, and made him take the seat of
honour; after which ceremony exquisite viands of all kinds were spread
out before them. Looking up, Tou noticed a scroll, on which was
inscribed, _The Cassia Court_, and he was just beginning to feel
puzzled as to what he should say next, when the Prince addressed him
as follows:--“The honour of having you for a neighbour is, as it were,
a bond of affinity between us. Let us, then, give ourselves up to
enjoyment, and put away suspicion and fear.” Tou murmured his
acquiescence; and when the wine had gone round several times there
arose from a distance the sound of pipes and singing, unaccompanied,
however, by the usual drum, and very much subdued in volume. Thereupon
the Prince looked about him and cried out, “We are about to set a
verse for any of you gentlemen to cap; here you are:--‘_Genius seeks
the Cassia Court_.’” While the courtiers were all engaged in thinking
of some fit antithesis,[44] Tou added, “_Refinement loves the Lily
flower_;” upon which the Prince exclaimed, “How strange! Lily is my
daughter’s name; and, after such a coincidence, she must come in for
you to see her.” In a few moments the tinkling of her ornaments and a
delicious fragrance of musk announced the arrival of the Princess, who
was between sixteen and seventeen and endowed with surpassing beauty.
The Prince bade her make an obeisance to Tou, at the same time
introducing her as his daughter Lily; and as soon as the ceremony was
over the young lady moved away. Tou remained in a state of
stupefaction, and, when the Prince proposed that they should pledge
each other in another bumper, paid not the slightest attention to what
he said. Then the Prince, perceiving what had distracted his guest’s
attention, remarked that he was anxious to find a consort for his
daughter, but that unfortunately there was the difficulty of
_species_, and he didn’t know what to do; but again Tou took no notice
of what the Prince was saying, until at length one of the bystanders
plucked his sleeve, and asked him if he hadn’t seen that the Prince
wished to drink with him, and had just been addressing some remarks to
him. Thereupon Tou started, and, recovering himself at once, rose from
the table and apologized to the Prince for his rudeness, declaring
that he had taken so much wine he didn’t know what he was doing.
“Besides,” said he, “your Highness has doubtless business to transact;
I will therefore take my leave.” “I am extremely pleased to have seen
you,” replied the Prince, “and only regret that you are in such a
hurry to be gone. However, I won’t detain you now; but, if you don’t
forget all about us, I shall be very glad to invite you here again.”
He then gave orders that Tou should be escorted home; and on the way
one of the courtiers asked the latter why he had said nothing when the
Prince had spoken of a consort for his daughter, as his Highness had
evidently made the remark with an eye to securing Tou as his
son-in-law. The latter was now sorry that he had missed his
opportunity; meanwhile they reached his house, and he himself awoke.
The sun had already set, and there he sat in the gloom thinking of
what had happened. In the evening he put out his candle, hoping to
continue his dream; but, alas! the thread was broken, and all he could
do was to pour forth his repentance in sighs. One night he was
sleeping at a friend’s house when suddenly an officer of the court
walked in and summoned him to appear before the Prince; so up he
jumped, and hurried off at once to the palace, where he prostrated
himself before the throne. The Prince raised him and made him sit
down, saying that since they had last met he had become aware that Tou
would be willing to marry his daughter, and hoped that he might be
allowed to offer her as a handmaid. Tou rose and thanked the Prince,
who thereupon gave orders for a banquet to be prepared; and when they
had finished their wine it was announced that the Princess had
completed her toilet. Immediately a bevy of young ladies came in with
the Princess in their midst, a red veil covering her head, and her
tiny footsteps sounding like rippling water as they led her up to be
introduced to Tou. When the ceremonies were concluded, Tou said to
the Princess, “In your presence, Madam, it would be easy to forget
even death itself; but, tell me, is not this all a dream?” “And how
can it be a dream,” asked the Princess, “when you and I are here
together?”
Next morning Tou amused himself by helping the Princess to paint her
face,[45] and then, seizing a girdle, began to measure the size of her
waist[46] and the length of her fingers and feet. “Are you crazy?”
cried she, laughing; to which Tou replied, “I have been deceived so
often by dreams, that I am now making a careful record. If such it
turns out to be, I shall still have something as a souvenir of you.”
While they were thus chatting a maid rushed into the room, shrieking
out, “Alas, alas! a great monster has got into the palace: the Prince
has fled into a side chamber: destruction is surely come upon us.” Tou
was in a great fright when he heard this, and rushed off to see the
Prince, who grasped his hand and, with tears in his eyes, begged him
not to desert them. “Our relationship,” cried he, “was cemented when
Heaven sent this calamity upon us; and now my kingdom will be
overthrown. What shall I do?” Tou begged to know what was the matter;
and then the Prince laid a despatch upon the table, telling Tou to
open it and make himself acquainted with its contents. This despatch
ran as follows:--“The Grand Secretary of State, Black Wings, to His
Royal Highness, announcing the arrival of an extraordinary monster,
and advising the immediate removal of the Court in order to preserve
the vitality of the empire. A report has just been received from the
officer in charge of the Yellow Gate stating that, ever since the 6th
of the 5th moon, a huge monster, 10,000 feet in length, has been lying
coiled up outside the entrance to the palace, and that it has already
devoured 13,800 and odd of your Highness’s subjects, and is spreading
desolation far and wide. On receipt of this information your servant
proceeded to make a reconnaissance, and there beheld a venomous
reptile with a head as big as a mountain and eyes like vast sheets of
water. Every time it raised its head, whole buildings disappeared down
its throat; and, on stretching itself out, walls and houses were alike
laid in ruins. In all antiquity there is no record of such a scourge.
The fate of our temples and ancestral halls is now a mere question of
hours; we therefore pray your Royal Highness to depart at once with
the Royal Family and seek somewhere else a happier abode.”[47] When
Tou had read this document his face turned ashy pale; and just then a
messenger rushed in, shrieking out, “Here is the monster!” at which
the whole Court burst into lamentations as if their last hour was at
hand. The Prince was beside himself with fear; all he could do was to
beg Tou to look to his own safety without regarding the wife through
whom he was involved in their misfortunes. The Princess, however, who
was standing by bitterly lamenting the fate that had fallen upon them,
begged Tou not to desert her; and, after a moment’s hesitation, he
said he should be only too happy to place his own poor home at their
immediate disposal if they would only deign to honour him. “How can we
talk of _deigning_,” cried the Princess, “at such a moment as this? I
pray you take us there as quickly as possible.” So Tou gave her his
arm, and in no time they had arrived at Tou’s house, which the
Princess at once pronounced to be a charming place of residence, and
better even than their former kingdom. “But I must now ask you,” said
she to Tou, “to make some arrangement for my father and mother, that
the old order of things may be continued here.” Tou at first offered
objections to this; whereupon the Princess said that a man who would
not help another in his hour of need was not much of a man, and
immediately went off into a fit of hysterics, from which Tou was
trying his best to recall her, when all of a sudden he awoke and found
that it was all a dream. However, he still heard a buzzing in his ears
which he knew was not made by any human being, and, on looking
carefully about he discovered two or three bees which had settled on
his pillow. He was very much astonished at this, and consulted with
his friend, who was also greatly amazed at his strange story; and then
the latter pointed out a number of other bees on various parts of his
dress, none of which would go away even when brushed off. His friend
now advised him to get a hive for them, which he did without delay;
and immediately it was filled by a whole swarm of bees, which came
flying from over the wall in great numbers. On tracing whence they had
come, it was found that they belonged to an old gentleman who lived
near, and who had kept bees for more than thirty years previously. Tou
thereupon went and told him the story; and when the old gentleman
examined his hive he found the bees all gone. On breaking it open he
discovered a large snake inside of about ten feet in length, which he
immediately killed, recognising in it the “huge monster” of Tou’s
adventure. As for the bees, they remained with Tou, and increased in
numbers every year.
FOOTNOTES:
[44] In this favourite pastime of the literati in China the important
point is that each word in the second line should be a due and proper
antithesis of the word in the first line to which it corresponds.
[45] See No. LXII., note 349.
[46] See No. LXIX., note 35.
[47] The language in which this fanciful document is couched is
precisely such as would be used by an officer of the Government in
announcing some national calamity; hence the value of these
tales,--models as they are of the purest possible style.
LXXI.
THE DONKEY’S REVENGE.