~After Two Years Fâ-hien Takes Ship for China~
Fâ-hien abode in this country two years; and, in addition to his
acquisitions in Patna, succeeded in getting a copy of the Vinaya-pitaka
of the Mahîsâsakâh school; the Dîrghâgama and Samyuktâgama Sûtras; and
also the Samyukta-sañchaya-pitaka;--all being works unknown in the land
of Han. Having obtained these Sanscrit works, he took passage in a large
merchantman, on board of which there were more than two hundred men, and
to which was attached by a rope a smaller vessel, as a provision against
damage or injury to the large one from the perils of the navigation.
With a favorable wind, they proceeded eastward for three days, and then
they encountered a great wind. The vessel sprang a leak and the water
came in. The merchants wished to go to the smaller vessel; but the men
on board it, fearing that too many would come, cut the connecting rope.
The merchants were greatly alarmed, feeling their risk of instant death.
Afraid that the vessel would fill, they took their bulky goods and threw
them into the water. Fâ-hien also took his pitcher and washing-basin,
with some other articles, and cast them into the sea; but fearing that
the merchants would cast overboard his books and images, he could only
think with all his heart of Kwan-she-yin, and commit his life to the
protection of the church of the land of Han, saying in effect, "I have
travelled far in search of our Law. Let me, by your dread and
supernatural power, return from my wanderings, and reach my
resting-place!"
In this way the tempest continued day and night, till on the thirteenth
day the ship was carried to the side of an island, where, on the ebbing
of the tide, the place of the leak was discovered, and it was stopped,
on which the voyage was resumed. On the sea hereabouts there are many
pirates, to meet with whom is speedy death. The great ocean spreads out,
a boundless expanse. There is no knowing east or west; only by observing
the sun, moon, and stars was it possible to go forward. If the weather
were dark and rainy, the ship went as she was carried by the wind,
without any definite course. In the darkness of the night, only the
great waves were to be seen, breaking on one another, and emitting a
brightness like that of fire, with huge turtles and other monsters of
the deep all about. The merchants were full of terror, not knowing where
they were going. The sea was deep and bottomless, and there was no place
where they could drop anchor and stop. But when the sky became clear,
they could tell east and west, and the ship again went forward in the
right direction. If she had come on any hidden rock, there would have
been no way of escape.
After proceeding in this way for rather more than ninety days, they
arrived at a country called Java-dvipa, where various forms of error and
Brahmanism are flourishing, while Buddhism in it is not worth speaking
of. After staying there for five months, Fâ-hien again embarked in
another large merchantman, which also had on board more than two hundred
men. They carried provisions for fifty days, and commenced the voyage on
the sixteenth day of the fourth month.
Fâ-hien kept his retreat on board the ship. They took a course to the
northeast, intending to fetch Kwang-chow. After more than a month, when
the night-drum had sounded the second watch, they encountered a black
wind and tempestuous rain, which threw the merchants and passengers into
consternation. Fâ-hien again, with all his heart, directed his thoughts
to Kwan-she-yin and the monkish communities of the land of Han; and,
through their dread and mysterious protection, was preserved to
daybreak. After daybreak, the Brahmans deliberated together and said,
"It is having this Sramana on board which has occasioned our misfortune
and brought us this great and bitter suffering. Let us land the bhikshu
and place him on some island-shore. We must not for the sake of one man
allow ourselves to be exposed to such imminent peril." A patron of
Fâ-hien, however, said to them, "If you land the bhikshu, you must at
the same time land me; and if you do not, then you must kill me. If you
land this Sramana, when I get to the land of Han, I will go to the king,
and inform against you. The king also reveres and believes the Law of
Buddha, and honors the bhikshus." The merchants hereupon were perplexed,
and did not dare immediately to land Fâ-hien.
At this time the sky continued very dark and gloomy, and the
sailing-masters looked at one another and made mistakes. More than
seventy days passed from their leaving Java, and the provisions and
water were nearly exhausted. They used the salt-water of the sea for
cooking, and carefully divided the fresh water, each man getting two
pints. Soon the whole was nearly gone, and the merchants took counsel
and said, "At the ordinary rate of sailing we ought to have reached
Kwang-chow, and now the time is passed by many days;--must we not have
held a wrong course?" Immediately they directed the ship to the
northwest, looking out for land; and after sailing day and night for
twelve days, they reached the shore on the south of mount Lao, on the
borders of the prefecture of Ch'ang-kwang, and immediately got good
water and vegetables. They had passed through many perils and hardships,
and had been in a state of anxious apprehension for many days together;
and now suddenly arriving at this shore, and seeing those well-known
vegetables, the lei and kwoh, [1] they knew indeed that it was the land
of Han. Not seeing, however, any inhabitants nor any traces of them,
they did not know whereabouts they were. Some said that they had not yet
got to Kwang-chow, and others that they had passed it. Unable to come to
a definite conclusion, some of them got into a small boat and entered a
creek, to look for someone of whom they might ask what the place was.
They found two hunters, whom they brought back with them, and then
called on Fâ-hien to act as interpreter and question them. Fâ-hien first
spoke assuringly to them, and then slowly and distinctly asked them,
"Who are you?" They replied, "We are disciples of Buddha." He then
asked, "What are you looking for among these hills?" They began to
lie,[2] and said, "To-morrow is the fifteenth day of the seventh month.
We wanted to get some peaches to present to Buddha." He asked further,
"What country is this?" They replied, "This is the border of the
prefecture of Ch'ang-kwang, a part of Ts'ing-chow under the ruling House
of Ts'in." When they heard this, the merchants were glad, immediately
asked for a portion of their money and goods, and sent men to
Ch'ang-kwang city.
The prefect Le E was a reverent believer in the Law of Buddha. When he
heard that a Sramana had arrived in a ship across the sea, bringing with
him books and images, he immediately came to the sea-shore with an
escort to meet the traveller, and receive the books and images, and took
them back with him to the seat of his government. On this the merchants
went back in the direction of Yang-chow; but when Fâ-hien arrived at
Ts'ing-chow, the prefect there begged him to remain with him for a
winter and a summer. After the summer retreat was ended, Fâ-hien, having
been separated for a long time from his fellows, wished to hurry to
Ch'ang-gan; but as the business which he had in hand was important, he
went south to the Capital; and at an interview with the masters there
exhibited the Sûtras and the collection of the Vinaya which he had
procured.
After Fâ-hien set out from Ch'ang-gan, it took him six years to reach
Central India; stoppages there extended over six years; and on his
return it took him three years to reach Ts'ing-chow. The countries
through which he passed were a few under thirty. From the sandy desert
westwards on to India, the beauty of the dignified demeanor of the
monkhood and of the transforming influence of the Law was beyond the
power of language fully to describe; and reflecting how our masters had
not heard any complete account of them, he therefore went on without
regarding his own poor life, or the dangers to be encountered on the sea
upon his return, thus incurring hardships and difficulties in a double
form. He was fortunate enough, through the dread power of the three
Honored Ones, to receive help and protection in his perils; and
therefore he wrote out an account of his experiences, that worthy
readers might share with him in what he had heard and said.
[Footnote 1: What these vegetables exactly were it is difficult to say;
and there are different readings of the characters for kwoh, brings the
two names together in a phrase, but the rendering of it is simply "a
soup of simples."]
[Footnote 2: It is likely that these men were really hunters; and, when
brought before Fâ-hien, because he was a Sramana, they thought they
would please him by saying they were disciples of Buddha. But what had
disciples of Buddha to do with hunting and taking life? They were caught
in their own trap, and said they were looking for peaches.]
~THE SORROWS OF HAN~
[Translated into English by John Francis Davis]
INTRODUCTION
"The Sorrows of Han" is considered by Chinese scholars to be one of the
largest tragedies in the whole range of the Chinese drama, which is very
voluminous. Although, properly speaking, there are no theatres in China,
the Chinese are passionately fond of dramatic representations. Chinese
acting is much admired and praised by travellers who are competent to
follow the dialogue. The stage is generally a temporary erection
improvised in a market-place, and the stage arrangements are of the most
primitive character; no scenery is employed, and the actors introduce
themselves in a sort of prologue, in which they state the name and
character they represent in the drama. They also indicate the place
where they are in the story, or the house which they have entered. Yet
the Chinese stage has many points in common with that of Ancient Greece.
It is supported and controlled by government, and has something of a
religious and national character, being particularly employed for
popular amusement in the celebration of religious festivals. Only two
actors are allowed to occupy the stage at the same time, and this is
another point in common with the early Greek drama. The plots or stories
of the Chinese plays are simple and effective, and Voltaire is known to
have taken the plot of a Chinese drama, as Molière took a comedy of
Plautus, and applied it in writing a drama for the modern French stage.
"The Sorrows of Han" belongs to the famous collection entitled "The
Hundred Plays of the Yuen Dynasty." It is divided into acts and is made
up of alternate prose and verse. The movement of the drama is good, and
the dénouement arranged with considerable skill.
E.W.
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
The following drama was selected from the "Hundred Plays of Yuen," which
has already supplied to Europe two specimens of the Chinese stage--the
first, called the "Orphan of Chaou," translated by Père Premare; and the
second, entitled an "Heir in Old Age," by the author of the present
version. "The Sorrows of Han" is historical, and relates to one of the
most interesting periods of the Chinese annals, when the growing
effeminacy of the court, and consequent weakness of the government,
emboldened the Tartars in their aggressions, and first gave rise to the
temporizing and impolitic system of propitiating those barbarians by
tribute, which long after produced the downfall of the empire and the
establishment of the Mongol dominion.
The moral of the piece is evidently to expose the evil consequences of
luxury, effeminacy, and supineness in the sovereign.
"When love was all an easy monarch's care,
Seldom at council--never in a war."
The hero, or rather the chief personage, of the drama, came to the
throne very near the beginning of the Christian era, about B.C. 42. The
fate of the Lady Chaoukeun is a favorite incident in history, of which
painters, poets, and romancers frequently avail themselves; her "Verdant
Lamb" is said to exist at the present day, and to remain green all the
year round, while the vegetation of the desert in which it stands is
parched by the summer sun.
In selecting this single specimen from among so many, the translator was
influenced by the consideration of its remarkable accordance with our
own canons of criticism. The Chinese themselves make no regular
classification of comedy and tragedy; but we are quite at liberty to
give the latter title to a play which so completely answers to the
European definition. The unity of action is complete, and the unities of
time and place much less violated than they frequently are on our own
stage. The grandeur and gravity of the subject, the rank and dignity of
the personages, the tragical catastrophe, and the strict award of
poetical justice, might satisfy the most rigid admirer of Grecian rules.
The translator has thought it necessary to adhere to the original by
distinguishing the first act (or Proëm) from the four which follow it:
but the distinction is purely nominal, and the piece consists, to all
intents and purposes, of five acts. It is remarkable that this peculiar
division holds true with regard to a large number of the "Hundred Plays
of Yuen."
The reader will doubtless be struck by the apparent shortness of the
drama which is here presented to him; but the original is eked out, in
common with all Chinese plays, by an irregular operatic species of song,
which the principal character occasionally chants forth in unison with a
louder or a softer accompaniment of music, as may best suit the
sentiment or action of the moment. Some passages have been embodied in
our version: but the translator did not give all, for the same reasons
that prompted Père Premare to give none--"they are full of allusions to
things unfamiliar to us, and figures of speech very difficult for us to
observe." They are frequently, moreover, mere repetitions or
amplifications of the prose parts; and being intended more for the ear
than the eye, are rather adapted to the stage than to the closet.
His judgment may perhaps be swayed by partiality towards the subject of
his own labors; but the translator cannot help thinking the plot and
incidents of "The Sorrows of Han" superior to those of the "Orphan of
Chaou"--though the genius of Voltaire contrived to make the last the
ground-work of an excellent French tragedy. Far is he, however, from
entertaining the presumptuous expectation that a destiny of equal
splendor awaits the present drama; and he will be quite satisfied if the
reader has patience to read it to the end, and then pronounces it to be
a somewhat curious sample of a very foreign literature.
JOHN FRANCIS DAVIS.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
YUENTE, Emperor of China of the Dynasty Han.
HANCHENYU, K'han of the Tartars.
MAOUYENSHOW, a worthless Minister of the Emperor.
SHANGSHOO (a title), President of the Imperial Council.
CHANGSHEE (a title), Officer in waiting.
FANSHE (a title), Envoy of the K'han.
CHAOUKEUN, Lady, raised to be Princess of Han.
Tartar Soldiers, Female Attendants, Eunuchs.
The Scene is laid in the Tartar Camp on the Frontiers; and
in the Palace of Han.
~THE SORROWS OF HAN~ [1]
~PROLOGUE~
_Enter Hanchenyu, K'han [2] of the Tartars, reciting four verses_.
K'HAN. The autumnal gale blows wildly through the grass,
amidst our woolen tents.
And the moon of night, shining on the rude huts, hears the
lament of the mournful pipe:
The countless hosts, with their bended horns, obey me as
their leader.
Our tribes are ten distinguished friends of the family of Han. I am
Hanchenyu, the old inhabitant of the sandy waste; the sole ruler of
the northern regions. The wild chase is our trade; battle and
conquest our chief occupation. The Emperor Wunwong retired before
our Eastern tribes; Weikeang trembled at us, and sued for our
friendship. The ancient title of our chiefs has in the course of
time been changed to that which I now bear. When the two races of
Tsin and Han contended in battle, and filled the empire with tumult,
our tribes were in full power: numberless was the host of armed
warriors with their bended horns. For seven days my ancestor hemmed
in with his forces the Emperor Kaoute; until, by the contrivance of
the minister, a treaty was concluded, and the Princesses of China
were yielded in marriage to our K'hans. Since the time of Hoeyte and
the Empress Leuhow, [3] each successive generation has adhered to
the established rule, and sought our alliance with its daughters. In
the reign of the late Emperor Seuente, my brothers contended with
myself for the rule of our nation, and its power was weakened until
the tribes elected me as their chief. I am a real descendant of the
empire of Han. I command a hundred thousand armed warriors. We have
moved to the South, and approached the border, claiming an alliance
with the Imperial race. Yesterday I despatched an envoy with
tributary presents to demand a princess in marriage; but know not if
the Emperor will ratify the engagement with the customary oaths. The
fineness of the season has drawn away our chiefs on a hunting
excursion amidst the sandy steppes. May they meet with success, for
we Tartars have no fields--our bows and arrows are our sole means of
subsistence.
_Enter Minister of Han, reciting verses_.
MINISTER. Let a man have the heart of a kite, and the talons
of an eagle.
Let him deceive his superiors, and oppress those below
him;
Let him enlist flattery, insinuation, profligacy, and avarice
on his side,
And he will find them a lasting assistance through life. I am no
other than Maouyenshow, a minister of the sovereign of Han. By a
hundred arts of specious flattery and address I have deceived the
Emperor, until he places his whole delight in me alone. My words he
listens to; and he follows my counsel. Within the precincts of the
palace, as without them, who is there but bows before me--who is
there but trembles at my approach? But observe the chief art which I
have learned: It is this: to persuade the Emperor to keep aloof from
his wise counsellors, and seek all his pleasures amidst the women of
his palace. Thus it is that I strengthen my power and greatness.
But, in the midst of my lucubrations--Here comes the Emperor.
_Enter Emperor Yuente, attended by Eunuchs and Women_.
EMPEROR [_recites verses]_. During the ten generations that
have succeeded our acquisition of Empire, my race has alone
possessed the four hundred districts of the world. Long have the
frontiers been bound in tranquillity by the ties of mutual oaths.
And our pillow has been undisturbed by grief or anxiety. Behold in
us the Emperor Yuente, of the race of Han. Our ancestor Kaoute
emerged from a private station, and raised his family by
extinguishing the dynasty of Tsin, and slaughtering their race. Ten
generations have passed away since he left this inheritance to us.
The four boundaries of the empire have been tranquil; the eight
regions at rest! But not through our personal merits; we have wholly
depended on the exertions of our civil and military rulers. On the
demise of our late father, the female inmates of the palace were all
dispersed, and our harem is now solitary and untenanted; but how
shall this be endured!
MINISTER. Consider, sir, that even the thriving husbandman
may desire to change his partner; then why not your Majesty, whose
title is the Law of Heaven, whose possessions are the whole world!
May I advise that commissioners be despatched to search throughout
the empire for all of whatever rank that is most beautiful between
the ages of fifteen and twenty, for the peopling of the inner
palace.
EMPEROR. You say well. We appoint you at once our minister of
selection, and will invest you with a written authority. Search
diligently through our realms; and when you have selected the most
worthy, let us be provided with portraits of each, as a means of
fixing our choice. By the merits of your services, you may supply us
with an occasion of rewarding you on your return. [_Exeunt_.
[Footnote 1: Han Koong Tsew, literally "Autumn in the Palace of Han";
but in Chinese, Autumn is emblematic of Sorrow, as Spring is of Joy, and
may therefore be rendered by what it represents.]
[Footnote 2: In Chinese, Ko-ban.]
[Footnote 3: The mother of Hoeyte, a bold and able woman, who ruled for
her son, the second emperor of Han.]
~ACT FIRST~
MINISTER [_repeats verses_]. The huge ingots of yellow gold I
appropriate to myself.
I heed not the seas of blood which flow by perverting the
laws.
During life I am determined to have abundance of riches; what care I
for the curses of mankind after my death? Having received the
Emperor's commission to search far and wide for the most beautiful
damsels, I have fixed upon ninety and nine. Their families were glad
to invite my selection by rich gifts, and the treasure that I have
amassed is not small. On arriving yesterday at a district pertaining
to Chingtoo city, I met with a maiden, daughter of one Wongchang.
The brightness of her charms was piercing as an arrow. She was
perfectly beautiful--and doubtless unparalleled in the whole empire.
But, unfortunately, her father is a cultivator of the land, not
possessed of much wealth. When I insisted on a hundred ounces of
gold to secure her being the chief object of the imperial choice,
they first pleaded their poverty--and then, relying on her
extraordinary beauty, rejected my offers altogether. I therefore
left them. [_Considers awhile_.] But no!----I have a better plan.
[_He knits his brows and matures his scheme_.] I will disfigure her
portrait in such a manner that when it reaches the Emperor it shall
secure her being doomed to neglected seclusion. Thus I shall
contrive to make her unhappy for life--Base is the man who delights
not in revenge! [_Exit._
_Night_.--_Enter the Lady Chaoukeun, with two female attendants_.
CHAOUKEUN [_recites verses_]. Though raised to be an inhabitant
of the imperial dwelling
I have long been here without the good fortune to see
my prince.
This beautiful night must I pass in lonely solitude, with no
companion but my lute to solace my retirement. I am a native of
Chingtoo city; and my father's occupation is husbandry. My mother
dreamed on the day I was born that the light of the moon shone on
her bosom, but was soon cast low to the earth.[1] I was just
eighteen years of age when chosen as an inhabitant of the imperial
palace; but the minister Maouyenshow, disappointed in the treasure
which he demanded on my account, disfigured my portrait in such a
manner as to keep me out of the Emperor's presence; and now I live
in neglected solitude. While at home, I learned a little music, and
could play a few airs on the lute. Thus sorrowing in the stillness
of midnight, let me practise one of my songs to dispel my griefs.
[_Begins to play on the lute_.
_Enter Emperor, attended by a Eunuch, carrying a light_.
EMPEROR. Since the beauties were selected to grace our palace,
we have not yet discovered a worthy object on whom to fix our
preference. Vexed and disappointed, we pass this day of leisure
roaming in search of her who may be destined for our imperial
choice. [_Hears the lute._] Is not that some lady's lute?
ATTENDANT. It is.--I hasten to advise her of your Majesty's
approach.
EMPEROR. No, hold! Keeper of the yellow gate, discover to
what part of our palace that lady pertains; and bid her approach our
presence; but beware lest you alarm her.
ATTENDANT [_approaches in the direction of the sound, and
speaks_]. What lady plays there? The Emperor comes! approach to meet
him. [_Lady advances_.
EMPEROR. Keeper of the yellow gate, see that the light burns
brightly within your gauze [2] lamp, and hold it nearer to us.
LADY _[approaching_]. Had your handmaid but known it was
your Majesty, she would have been less tardy; forgive, then, this
delay.
EMPEROR. Truly this is a very perfect beauty! From what
quarter come such superior charms?
LADY. My name is Chaoukeun: my father cultivates at Chingtoo
the fields which he has derived from his family. Born in an humble
station, I am ignorant of the manners that befit a palace.
EMPEROR. But with such uncommon attractions, what chance
has kept you from our sight?
LADY. When I was chosen by the minister Maouyenshow, he
demanded of my father an amount of treasure which our poverty could
not supply; he therefore disfigured my portrait, by representing a
scar under the eyes, and caused me to be consigned to seclusion and
neglect.
EMPEROR. Keeper of the yellow gate, bring us that picture,
that we may view it. [_Sees the picture_.] Ah, how has he dimmed the
purity of the gem, bright as the waves in autumn. [_To the
attendant_] Transmit our pleasure to the officer of the guard, to
behead Maouyenshow and report to us his execution.
LADY. My parents, sir, are subject to the tax [3] in our native
district. Let me entreat your Majesty to remit their contributions
and extend favor towards them!
EMPEROR. That shall readily be done. Approach and hear our
imperial pleasure. We create you a Princess of our palace.
LADY. How unworthy is your handmaid of such gracious distinction!
[_Goes through the form of returning thanks_.] Early to-morrow I
attend your Majesty's commands in this place. The Emperor is gone:
let the attendants close the doors:--I will retire to rest. _[Exit._
[Footnote 1: Boding a short but fatal distinction to her offspring.]
[Footnote 2: Instead of glass, to defend it from the wind.]
[Footnote 3: The principal taxes in China are the land-tax, customs,
salt monopoly, and personal service; which last is the source of much
oppression to the lowest orders, who have nothing but their labor to
contribute.]
~ACT SECOND~
_Enter K'han of the Tartars, at the head of his Tribes_.
K'HAN. I lately sent an envoy to the sovereign of Han, with
the demand of a princess in marriage; but the Emperor has returned a
refusal, under the plea that the princess is yet too young. This
answer gives me great trouble. Had he not plenty of ladies in his
palace, of whom he might have sent me one? The difference was of
little consequence. [1] Let me recall my envoy with all speed, for I
must invade the South with out forces. And yet I am unwilling to
break a truce of so many years' standing! We must see how matters
turn out, and be guided by the event.
_Enter Minister of Han_.
MINISTER. The severity with which I extorted money, in the
selection of beauties for the palace, led me to disfigure the
picture of Chaoukeun, and consign her to neglected seclusion. But
the Emperor fell in with her, obtained the truth, and condemned me
to lose my head. I contrived to make my escape--though I have no
home to receive me. I will take this true portrait of Chaoukeun and
show it to the Tartar K'han, persuading him to demand her from the
Emperor, who will no doubt be obliged to yield her up. A long
journey has brought me to this spot, and from the troops of men and
horses I conclude I have reached the Tartar camp. [_Addresses
himself to somebody_] Leader, inform King Hanchenyu that a great
minister of the empire of Han is come to wait on him.
K'HAN [_on being informed_]. Command him to approach.
[_Seeing Maouyenshow_] What person are you?
MINISTER. I am a minister of Han. In the western palace of
the Emperor is a lady, named Chaoukeun, of rare and surpassing
charms. When your envoy, great king, came to demand a princess, this
lady would have answered the summons, but the Emperor of Han could
not bring himself to part with her, and refused to yield her up. I
repeatedly renewed my bitter reproaches, and asked how he could
bear, for the sake of a woman's beauty, to implicate the welfare of
two nations. For this the Emperor would have beheaded me; and I
therefore escaped with the portrait of the lady, which I present,
great king, to yourself. Should you send away an envoy with the
picture to demand her, she must certainly be delivered up. Here is
the portrait. [_Hands it up_.
K'HAN. Whence could so beautiful a female have appeared
in the world! If I can only obtain her, my wishes are complete.
Immediately shall an envoy be despatched, and my ministers prepare a
letter to the Emperor of Han, demanding her in marriage as the
condition of peace. Should he refuse, I will presently invade the
South: his hills and rivers shall be exposed to ravage. Our warriors
will commence by hunting, as they proceed on their way; and thus
gradually entering the frontiers, I shall be ready to act as may
best suit the occasion. [_Exit._
_The Palace of Han. Enter Lady, attended by females_.
PRINCESS. A long period has elapsed since I had to thank his
Majesty for his choice. The Emperor's fondness for me is so great,
that he has still neglected to hold a court. I hear he is now gone
to the hall of audience, and will therefore ornament myself at my
toilet and be ready to wait on him at his return. [_Stands opposite
a mirror_.
_Enter Emperor_.
EMPEROR. Since we first met with Chaoukeun in the western
palace, we have been as it were deranged and intoxicated; a long
interval has elapsed since we held a court; and on entering the hall
of audience this day, we waited not until the assembly had
dispersed, but returned hither to obtain a sight of her.
[_Perceiving the Princess_.] Let us not alarm her, but observe in
secret what she is doing.
[_Comes close behind and looks over her._] Reflected in that round
mirror, she resembles the Lady in the Moon. [2]
_Enter President, and an Officer in waiting_.
PRESIDENT [_recites verses._] Ministers should devote themselves
to the regulation of the empire; They should be occupied with public
cares in the hall of government. But they do nought but attend at
the banquets in the palace. When have they employed a single day in
the service of their prince?
This day, when the audience was concluded, an envoy arrived from the
Tartars to demand Chaoukeun in marriage, as the only condition of
peace. It is my duty to report this to his Majesty, who has retired
to his western palace. Here I must enter. [_Perceiving the
Emperor._] I report to your Majesty that Hanchenyu, the leader of
the northern foreigners, sends an envoy to declare that Maouyenshow
has presented to him the portrait of the princess, and that he
demands her in marriage as the only condition of peace. If refused,
he will invade the South with a great power, and our rivers and
hills will be exposed to rapine.
EMPEROR. In vain do we maintain and send forth armies; vain
are the crowds of civil and military officers about our palace!
Which of them will drive back for us these foreign troops? They are
all afraid of the Tartar swords and arrows! But if they cannot exert
themselves to expel the barbarians, why call for the princess to
propitiate them?
PRESIDENT. The foreigners say that through your Majesty's
devoted fondness for the princess, the affairs of your empire are
falling into ruin. They declare that if the government does not
yield her up, they will put their army in motion, and subdue the
country. Your servant reflects, that Chow-wong [3] who lost his
empire and life entirely through his blind devotion to Takee, is a
fit example to warn your Majesty. Our army is weak, and needs the
talents of a fit general. Should we oppose the Tartars, and be
defeated, what will remain to us? Let your Majesty give up your
fondness for the princess, to save your people.
OFFICER. The envoy waits without for an audience.
EMPEROR. Well; command that he approach us.
_Enter Envoy_.
ENVOY. Hanchenyu, K'han of the Tartars, sends me, his minister,
to state before the great Sovereign of Han, that the Northern tribes
and the Southern empire have long been bound in peace by mutual
alliances; but that envoys being twice sent to demand a princess,
his requisitions have been refused. The late minister, Maouyenshow,
took with him the portrait of a beautiful lady, and presented it to
the K'ban, who now sends me, his envoy, on purpose to demand the
Lady Chaoukeun, and no other, as the only condition of peace between
the two nations. Should your Majesty refuse, the K'han has a
countless army of brave warriors, and will forthwith invade the
South to try the chances of war. I trust your Majesty will not err
in your decision.
EMPEROR. The envoy may retire to repose himself in his lodging.
[_Exit the Envoy_.] Let our civil and military officers consult, and
report to us the best mode of causing the foreign troops to retire,
without yielding up the princess to propitiate them. They take
advantage of the compliant softness of her temper. Were the Empress
Leuhow alive--let her utter a word--which of them would dare to be
of a different opinion? It would seem that, for the future, instead
of men for ministers, we need only have fair women to keep our
empire in peace.
PRINCESS. In return for your Majesty's bounties, it is your
handmaid's duty to brave death to serve you. I can cheerfully enter
into this foreign alliance, for the sake of producing peace, and
shall leave behind me a name still green in history.--But my
affection for your Majesty, how am I to lay aside!
EMPEROR. Alas, I [4] know too well that I can do no more than
yourself!
PRESIDENT. I entreat your Majesty to sacrifice your love, and
think of the security of your Dynasty. Hasten, sir, to send the
princess on her way!
EMPEROR. Let her this day advance a stage on her journey,
and be presented to the envoy.--To-morrow we will repair as far as
the bridge of Pahling, and give her a parting feast.
PRESIDENT. Alas! Sir, this may not be! It will draw on us
the contempt of these barbarians.
EMPEROR. We have complied with all our minister's propositions--shall
they not, then, accede to ours? Be it as it may, we will witness her
departure--and then return home to hate the traitor Maouyenshow!
PRESIDENT. Unwillingly we advise that the princess be sacrificed
for the sake of peace; but the envoy is instructed to insist upon
her alone--and from ancient times, how often hath a nation suffered
for a woman's beauty!
PRINCESS. Though I go into exile for the nation's good, yet ill
can I bear to part from your Majesty! _[Exeunt._
[Footnote 1: The honor of the imperial alliance being the chief object.]
[Footnote 2: Changngo, the goddess of the moon, gives her name to the
finely curved eyebrows of the Chinese ladies, which are compared to the
lunar crescent when only a day or two old.]
[Footnote 3: Chow-wong was the last of the Shang dynasty, and infamous
by his debaucheries and cruelties, in concert with his empress Takee,
the Theodora of Chinese history.]
[Footnote 4: The imperial pronoun "Tchin," _me_, is with very good taste
supplied by _I_ in these impassioned passages.]
~ACT THIRD~
_Enter Envoy, escorting the Princess, with a band of music_.
PRINCESS. Thus was I, in spite of the treachery of Maouyenshow,
who disfigured my portrait, seen and exalted by his Majesty; but the
traitor presented a truer likeness to the Tartar king, who comes at
the head of an army to demand me, with a threat of seizing the
country. There is no remedy--I must be yielded up to propitiate the
invaders! How shall I bear the rigors--the winds and frosts of that
foreign land! It has been said of old, that "surpassing beauty is
often coupled with an unhappy fate." Let me grieve, then, without
entertaining fruitless resentment at the effects of my own
attractions.
_Enter Emperor, attended by his several officers_.
EMPEROR. This day we take leave of the princess at Pahling
bridge! [_To his ministers_.] Can ye not devise a way to send out
these foreign troops, without yielding up the princess for the sake
of peace? [_Descends from his horse and seems to grieve with
Chaoukeun_.] Let our attendants delay awhile, till we have conferred
the parting cup.
ENVOY. Lady, let us urge you to proceed on your way--the
sky darkens, and night is coming on.
PRINCESS. Alas! when shall I again behold your Majesty? I
will take off my robes of distinction and leave them behind me.
To-day in the palace of Han--to-morrow I shall be espoused to a
stranger. I cease to wear these splendid vestments--they shall no
longer adorn my beauty in the eyes of men.
ENVOY. Again let us urge you, princess, to depart; we have
delayed but too long already!
EMPEROR. 'Tis done!--Princess, when you are gone, let your
thoughts forbear to dwell with sorrow and resentment upon us! [_They
part_.] And am I the great Monarch of the line of Han?
PRESIDENT. Let your Majesty cease to dwell with such grief
upon this subject!
EMPEROR. She is gone! In vain have we maintained those
armed heroes on the frontier. [1] Mention but swords and spears, and
they tremble at their hearts like a young deer. The princess has
this day performed what belonged to themselves: and yet they affect
the semblance of men!
PRESIDENT. Your Majesty is entreated to return to the palace:
dwell not so bitterly, Sir, on her memory:--allow her to depart!
EMPEROR. Did I not think of her, I had a heart of iron--a
heart of iron! The tears of my grief stream in thousand
channels--this evening shall her likeness be suspended in the
palace, where I will sacrifice to it--and tapers with their silver
lights shall illuminate her chamber.
PRESIDENT. Let your Majesty return to the palace--the princess
is already far distant! [_Exeunt_.
_The Tartar Camp. Enter K'han at the head of his tribes, leading
in the Princess_.
K'HAN. The Emperor of Han having now, in observance of
old treaties, yielded up to me the Lady Chaoukeun in marriage, I
take her as my rightful queen. The two nations shall enjoy the
benefits of peace. [_To his generals_] Leaders, transmit my
commands to the army to strike our encampment, and proceed to the
north. [_They march_.
_The river Amoor. [2] Tartar army on its march_.
PRINCESS. What place is this?
ENVOY. It is the River of the Black Dragon, the frontier of
the Tartar territories and those of China. This southern shore is
the Emperor's; on the northern side commences our Tartar dominion.
PRINCESS [_to the K'han_]. Great King, I take a cup of wine,
and pour a libation towards the South--my last farewell to the
Emperor--[_pours the libation_] of Han, this life is finished. I
await thee in the next!
[_Throws herself into the river. The K'han, in great consternation,
endeavors to save her, but in vain_.
K'HAN. Alas! alas!--so determined was her purpose against
this foreign alliance--she has thrown herself into the stream, and
perished! Tis done, and remediless! Let her sepulchre be on this
river's bank, and be it called "the verdant tomb," [3] She is no
more; and vain has been our enmity with the dynasty of Han! The
traitor Maouyenshow was the author of all this misery. [_To an
officer_] Take Maouyenshow and let him be delivered over to the
Emperor for punishment. I will return to our former friendship with
the dynasty of Han. We will renew and long preserve the sentiments
of relationship. The traitor disfigured the portrait to injure
Chaoukeun--then deserted his sovereign, and stole over to me, whom
he prevailed on to demand the lady in marriage. How little did I
think that she would thus precipitate herself into the stream, and
perish!--In vain did my spirit melt at the sight of her! But if I
detained this profligate and traitorous rebel, he would certainly
prove to us a root of misfortune: it is better to deliver him for
his reward to the Emperor of Han, with whom I will renew, and long
retain, our old feelings of friendship and amity. _[Exeunt._
[Footnote 1: It may be observed that the great wall is never once
expressly mentioned through this drama. The expression used is Pëensih,
the border, or frontier. The wall had existed two hundred years at this
time, but the real frontier was beyond it.]
[Footnote 2: Or Saghalien, which falls into the sea of Ochotsk.]
[Footnote 3: Said to exist now and to be green all the year.]
~ACT FOURTH~
_Enter Emperor, with an attendant_.
EMPEROR. Since the princess was yielded to the Tartars, we
have not held an audience. The lonely silence of night but increases
our melancholy! We take the picture of that fair one and suspend it
here, as some small solace to our griefs, [_To the attendant_]
Keeper of the yellow gate, behold, the incense in yonder vase is
burnt out: hasten then to add some more. Though we cannot see her,
we may at least retain this shadow; and, while life remains, betoken
our regard. But oppressed and weary, we would fain take a little
repose.
[_Lies down to sleep. The Princess appears before him in a
vision_.] [1]
PRINCESS. Delivered over as a captive to appease the barbarians,
they would have conveyed me to their Northern country: but I took an
occasion to elude them and have escaped back. Is not this the
Emperor, my sovereign? Sir, behold me again restored.
[_A Tartar soldier appears in the vision_.]
SOLDIER. While I chanced to sleep, the lady, our captive, has
made her escape, and returned home. In eager pursuit of her, I have
reached the imperial palace.--Is not this she?
[_Carries her off. The Emperor starts from his sleep_.]
EMPEROR. We just saw the Princess returned--but alas, how
quickly has she vanished! In bright day she answered not to our
call--but when morning dawned on our troubled sleep, a vision
presented her in this spot. [_Hears the wild fowl's [2] cry_] Hark,
the passing fowl screamed twice or thrice!--Can it know there is no
one so desolate as I? [_Cries repeated_] Perhaps worn out and weak,
hungry and emaciated, they bewail at once the broad nets of the
South and the tough bows of the North. [_Cries repeated_] The
screams of those water-birds but increase our melancholy.
ATTENDANT. Let your Majesty cease this sorrow, and have
some regard to your sacred [3] person.
EMPEROR. My sorrows are beyond control. Cease to upbraid
this excess of feeling, since ye are all subject to the same. Yon
doleful cry is not the note of the swallow on the carved rafters,
nor the song of the variegated bird upon the blossoming tree. The
princess has abandoned her home! Know ye in what place she grieves,
listening like me to the screams of the wild bird?
_Enter President_.
PRESIDENT. This day after the close of the morning council,
a foreign envoy appeared, bringing with him the fettered traitor
Maouyenshow. He announces that the renegade, by deserting his
allegiance, led to the breach of truce, and occasioned all these
calamities. The princess is no more! and the K'han wishes for peace
and friendship between the two nations. The envoy attends, with
reverence, your imperial decision.
EMPEROR. Then strike off the traitor's head, and be it presented
as an offering to the shade of the princess! Let a fit banquet be
got ready for the envoy, preparatory to his return. _[Recites these
verses_.
At the fall of the leaf, when the wild-fowl's cry was heard
in the recesses of the palace.
Sad dreams returned to our lonely pillow; we thought of
her through the night:
Her verdant tomb remains--but where shall we seek her
self?
The perfidious painter's head shall atone for the beauty
which he wronged.
[Footnote 1: There is nothing in this more extravagant than the similar
vision in the tragedy of Richard III.]
[Footnote 2: Yengo, a species of wild goose, is the emblem in China of
intersexual attachment and fidelity, being said never to pair again
after the loss of its mate. An image of it is worshipped by newly
married couples.]
[Footnote 3: Literally, "dragon person." The emperor's throne is often
called the "dragon seat."]