世新中文 ‧ 中國文學名著英譯選讀教室

THE COURTESAN LI WA

Lady Ch’ien, Li Wa, used to be a courtesan in Ch’ang-an. Her behavior was so high-principled and exalted that it merits praise. It is for this reason that I, Po Hsing-chien,[1] an investigating censor, have made an account of her story.

During the T’ien-pao reign period [742-756],[2] the prefect of Ch’ang-chou[3] was a nobleman of Ying-yang.[4] His surname and given name I shall omit. His reputation was high among his contemporaries, and he was very wealthy. When he had reached the age of fifty, his only son was just twenty years old. His son was highly gifted in literature, and this marked him off from his peers. He was well thought of and praised by the people of his day. His father doted on him, and regarded him highly. He once remarked, “This is the thousand-li steed of our house.”

After he had become a hsiu-ts’ai through the local examinations, he was about to set out [for the capital to take more advanced examinations]. His father amply provided him with all the accoutrements he would need, including horse and carriage; he also estimated his son’s expenses in the capital and gave him funds accordingly. The father said, “When I look upon your talents, I’m sure that you’ll make it in this first attempt. Now I’ve made provision for you for a full two years; I’ve given you more than needed to encourage you”.

The young man was also confident of his own abilities. He saw his excelling in the examinations as a matter of course. From p’i-ling[5] he set out, and in little more than a month he reached Ch’ang-an. He settled in the Administration Quarter.

Once, as he was returning from touring the East Market, he passed through the east gate of the Blissful Quarter on his way to visit a friend in the southwestern section of the city. When he reached Jingle Lane he noticed a private residence whose gate and courtyard were not particularly large; but the house itself was deep and imposing. Only one of the doors of the gate was closed. A young beautiful girl, dressed in bluish green and with her hair arranged in a double knot, stood leaning on her maid. Her coquettish charm and manner were peerless. He caught sight of her and unwittingly stopped his horse, pausing for a long while. In his indecision he could not bring himself to move on. He pretended to loose his grip on his whip, dropped it to the ground, and waited for his servant to pick it up. His gaze was fixed on the girl, who in turn looked back at him with an equally fascinated gaze. By now they were deeply drawn to each other. Finally, unable to summon the courage to speak up, he went on.

From then on, his mind was distracted. He secretly inquired about her among those friends of his who were familiar with Ch’ang-an. “That is the residence of the courtesan named Li,” said a friend.

“Is she available?”

“She is rather rich. Most of her usual patrons are either nobles or from influential families; her income is sizable. If you aren’t willing to spend a million in cash, you won’t be able to move her.”

“My only worry is that I may not be able to get acquainted with her. What’s a million to me!”

One day he put on his best clothes and, with a host of attendants following, he set out for the house. A knock at the gate shortly drew forth a maid to open the door. “Can you tell me whose household this is?” asked the young man.

  The maid did not reply, but quickly ran back in with the cry, “Here’s the gentleman who dropped his whip the other day.”

Greatly delighted, Li said, “Ask him in. Let me put on some makeup and change my clothes.”

When he heard his, he was secretly flattered. He was led inside the courtyard, where he saw an older woman with long white hair and a somewhat hunched posture. She was Li’s procuress. He bowed politely and said to her, “I’ve heard that you have a vacant apartment. If this is the case, I want to rent it for my lodgings.”

“I fear that such a small, run-down place would not be good enough for you. How could I mention the rent?”

She then invited him into the guest’s quarters, which were elegant. She sat down with him and began to chat. “I’ve a young daughter of limited talent, but she enjoys entertaining guests. I’d like you to meet her.”

She then called for the girl to come out. She had bright eyes and white wrists, and carried herself with grace and charm. He got up nervously. not daring to look at her. After they had greeted each other, they began to chat casually. Such alluring beauty as this he had never seen before. Then they sat down again and had tea and wine together. The service ware was impeccable.

They talked for a long time until night drew on, and the sound of the watch drum could be heard from all directions. The older woman asked how far away he lived. He said mendaciously, “I’m staying several li outside the Lasting Peace Gate.”

He hoped they would ask him to stay because of the distance. However, the mother said, “The drum has already sounded; you ought hurry back so as not to break the [curfew] law.”

“This delightful conversation with you has been such a pleasure that I didn’t notice the day had turned to night. It’s such a long distance, and I’ve no relatives in the city. What am I to do?”

“Since you aren’t put off by this rustic place and have already decided to move in here,” the girl suggested, “what harm would there be in staying overnight?”

The young man anxiously looked at the old woman a few times, and she consented.

He then called for his valet to bring in two rolls of fine silk, requesting that they take these as compensation for the evening’s fare. The girl laughed and refused: “That is not the proper way for guest and host. This evening’s expenditure should be on the house. You may entertain us some other time.” She firmly declined his offer, and stuck to her words all the way.

Shortly they moved to the western hail, where the curtains, screens, window, and couches were all of brilliant splendor, and the dressing-case, coverlets, and pillows were all of luxurious elegance. Presently candles were set forth and the meal bought in; the dishes were both plentiful and excellent. After supper, the old woman retired. Then the conversation between the young man and the girl grew more intimate, with jokes and laughter; there was no topic they would not touch upon.

“Since I happened to pass by your gate and saw you standing in the doorway the other day,” he said, “my heart has been with you. Sleeping or eating I could not forget you.

“My heart has been like that as well,” she responded.

“I didn’t come here today simply in search of a place to live. Rather I wish to fulfill a lifelong ambition. Yet I don’t know what my fate will be.”

Before he had finished what he had to say, the old woman came in and asked what they were discussing. They told her everything. The old women smiled and said, “It’s only natural that a young man and a young woman should desire each other. If their feelings for each other are mutual, even their parents cannot call for restraint. But my daughter is so lowly; how is she fit to share a bed with you, sir?

He got down from the dais, bowed and thanked her. “I’d like to take the responsibility of providing for you,” he said.

So the old woman assented and took him as her son-in-law. They drank deeply and then parted for the evening. The following day the young man had all his belongings moved in, to live in the Li family.

From then on, he retreated from the circles of his friends and relatives. He spent his time in the company of musicians, entertainers, and the like, indulging in all sorts of wantonness. He grew intimate with the actors, and became something of a partygoer. When his money was exhausted, he sold his horse, carriage, and valet. In a little over a year he had squandered everything. Before long the old woman’s attentions to him slackened, but Li’s affection remained as genuine and passionate as eve.

One day the girl said to him, “I’ve known you for a year, yet I’m still without child. I’ve heard that the god of the Bamboo Grove answers requests like an echo. Should we go and offer sacrifices to him?”

He had no idea that this was a scheme and was greatly delighted. He pawned his clothes at a shop in order to buy sacrificial meat and wine. Then they went to the temple to worship and lodged there for two nights before starting back. He rode a donkey behind the girls carriage. When they reached the north gate of the [All Radiance] Quarter, she said to him, “My aunt’s house is on the little street which turns east. Could we call on her and rest a bit?

He agreed to what she proposed and, without walking more than a hundred paces, he saw a carriage gate. Through the gate he spied a spacious courtyard. One of the maidservants came up from behind the carnage and stopped him saying.

“We’ve arrived,” He got down off his donkey. Just then a maid came out and asked, “Who is it?” The girl responded, “It is Li Wa.”

The maid then went in to announce their arrival. Shortly a woman, somewhat over forty, came out. Welcoming the young man she asked, “Has my niece come?”

Li Wa got out of the carriage. The woman greeted her, asking, “Why has it been so long since you last came?”

They looked at each other and smiled. Li Wa then brought the young man forward and asked him to bow. Then together they entered the side courtyard by the western gate. In the courtyard were artificial mountains, pavilions, bamboo trees, lush shrubbery, and ponds—truly a secluded place. He asked the girl, “Is this your aunt’s private residence?”

She smiled and did not answer, but changed the subject. In a moment tea and fruits of exotic kinds were served. A short time later, a man, sweating profusely, galloped up and reined in a Ferghana[6] horse to announce, “Your mother has suddenly fallen very ill. She can’t even recognize us. You must return at once.”

“I’m greatly disturbed,” Li Wa said to her aunt. “I’ll take the carriage and go beck first. When I get home I’ll send the carriage beck; then the two of you can come along together.

He wanted to accompany her beck. But the aunt and a maid whispered for a while and then signaled him to wait outside, telling him, “She might die at any time. We should discuss the matter of the funeral to help them through this crisis. What good will it do to go running off after her?” So he stayed, and together they calculated the cost of the funeral rites.

As night drew on and the carnage had not yet arrived, the aunt observed. “I wonder why no message has been sent back? Why don’t you run along and find out what has happened? I’ll be right behind you.”

So the young man set out. When he reached the place the gate was locked tight and sealed with mortar. He was alarmed at this and inquired of the neighbors, who said, “They only rented this place. The lease was up and the landlord took back the house. The old woman has already been gone for two nights now.”

“Do you know where they moved to?”

“We’ve no idea.”

Then he intended to rush beck to the All Radiance Quarter to check with the aunt, but by this time it was quite late. He figured that he would not be able to make it that evening, so he pawned his clothes for something to eat and a place to spend the night. However, he was so infuriated that front dusk to dawn he was not able to sleep. At dawn he urged his nag on. When he arrived, he pounded steadily on the door; but for a long time there was no response. He then shouted loudly several times, which finally brought forth a servant who ambled out. He accosted the servant, asking, “Is the aunt in?”

“No such person.”

“But last night she was here. Why is she hiding?”

When he asked whose home it was, he got the reply: “This is Minister Ts’ui’s place. Yesterday someone rented it, saying they were receiving a cousin from afar. They left before dusk.”

The young man was so shaken by this hat he was delirious.  Not knowing what to do, he went back to the old place in the Administration Quarter. The landlord took pity on him and offered him a meal, but he was so full of resentment that he could not eat for three days and became seriously ill.

 Over the following ten days his illness grew even worse. The landlord began to fear that he would not recover, so he moved him to a mortuary. For some time, he appeared to be on the verge of death. The men at the mortuary took pity on him, and helped him out by offering him food. Later he recovered to the point where he could get up with the aid of a cane. The owner of the mortuary then put him to work. He was instructed to hold the ropes of the hearses. In this way he earned his keep. After some months he gradually regained his strength.

Each time he heard the funeral dirges, he would lament that he was not even as lucky as the dead, and he would sob and weep, quite incapable of restraining himself. When he returned home he would try to imitate the songs. As he was clever and intelligent, in a little while he could bring out all the subtleties of each song. There was not a singer in Ch’ang-an who could compare with him.

Now there were two mortuaries competing with each other. The one to the east had particularly elegant hearses, almost without peer. Their singers, however, were rather mediocre. The owner of the mortuary knew of this young man’s talent. He came up with twenty thousand in cash and employed him. The veteran singers there all did their best to train the young man; they secretly taught him how to compose songs and sang in harmony with him. This went on for more than ten days without anyone outside knowing it.

The owners of the two mortuaries made an announcement: ”Each shop will display its funeral supplies on the Heavenly Gate Street, so that the people can compare them and determine which one excels. The loser will pay fifty thousand to cover the cost of wine and food.” The two parties agreed to this and drew up a contract which was signed by witnesses before they held the exhibition.

Men and women gathered by the tens of thousands. The neighborhood headmen informed the chief of police, who in turn reported it to the mayor of the capital. Men from all parts of the city came for the occasion, so many that the streets were deserted. From early morning until midday the exhibition went on. One after another the carriages, hearses, and ceremonial trappings were brought forward. The mortuary to the west was able to excel in nothing and its owner grew shamefaced.

So he set up a platform in the south corner of the ground. A man with a long beard came forward, holding a handbell and surrounded by several attendants. Swaying his beard and raising his eyebrows, he held his wrist, and then bowed and ascended the platform. He sang the “White Horse” lyric. With the air of assuming a sure victory, he glanced here and there as if no other singers of consequence existed. Unanimous was the sound of his admirers’ praise. He thought himself to be without rival in his day, and that no one could humble him.

Laser, the owner of the eastern mortuary assembled a platform in the north corner. A youth in a black cap came forward with a feather fan in his hand, accompanied by several attendants. It was none other than the young man of our story. He adjusted his clothes and gazed up and down with composure. He then cleared his throat and began to sing with polished grace the elegy “Dew on the Shallots.” His voice was clear and transcendent, even stirring the trees. Before he had finished, many in the audience wept.

As a result, the owner of the western mortuary became the object of mockery and he felt more humiliated. He quietly brought forth the amount he had lost and slipped away. Those present were all surprised by the outcome, as no one knew who this young singer was.

Previously the emperor had issued an edict, calling on the district administrators to appear once a year at court; this was known as the “Entry for Reckoning.” It was during that time of the year that the young man’s father was in the capital. Together with some of his colleagues he had changed into more common dress, and gone incognito to view the exhibition.

An old servant, the husband of the young man’s wet nurse, seeing his movements and his voice, was about to accost him but did not dare. Unconsciously he wept; this startled the young man’s father. He asked the servant about it, and the servant replied, “The singer’s manner greatly resembles master’s lost son.”

To this the father replied, “My son was murdered by thieves for hit wealth. How could it be he?” When he had finished speaking, he also cried.

After they had returned to their lodgings, the servant caught an opportunity and rushed back to check wish some of the undertakers: “Who is the person who just sang? How could he be so superb?

“Some noble family’s son,” they replied.

He asked for his name, but the young man had already changed it. The servant was shocked by this, but he managed to get close to the young man and examined him al1 over. Seeing the servant, the young man lost his poise and turned around to flee, trying to conceal himself in the crowd. The servant grabbed his sleeve, “Are you not so-and-so?” They embraced each other and wept. The servant then took him home.

When they arrived, the father lashed out at his son: “Your behaving in this manner brings disgrace upon our family. How dare you show yourself here again!”

Whereupon the father took him out to a spot west of Crooked Creek Pond and east of Apricot Park. He stripped his son and used a horse whip to flog him several hundred times. The young man, overcame by pain, fell unconscious. The father left him for dead.

The youth’s music instructor had asked some of his intimates to secretly follow him and keep an eye on him. They returned to report what had happened to his fellow singers; they all sighed with grief at his plight. Two men were ordered to go there with rush mats to bury him. When they arrived they found that his heart still had a bit of warmth. Some time after being helped up, he began to breathe slightly, whereupon they carried him beck. They fed him some broth through a reed tube, and after passing the night he regained some consciousness. But fur over a month he was unable to move his limbs.

The wounds on his body festered and burst, giving off such a vile stench that it bothered his companions. One night they abandoned him by the side of the road. The people who walked the streets all took pity on him. Often they would toss him some leftover food and in this way he was saved from starvation.

In about three months he could get up with the aid of stick. His cotton robe, knotted in a hundred places, looked like a bunch of quails strong up together. With a broken bowl he roamed the neighborhood begging for food.

As autumn gave way to winter, at night he would take cover in the sewers and caves. During the day he went about the markets and shops. One day a heavy snow fell. Driven by cold and hunger, however, he still had to go out in spite of the snow. The sound of his begging was painfully moving and all who heard him could not help but be saddened by it. The snow was so deep that the doors of most households were shut. He reached the east gate of the Felicity Quarter. Turning north and following the wall, at the seventh or eighth house he found one gate with the left door open. This was Li Wa’s house, though he had no knowledge of it. Cold and hunger made his wails still louder. It was a pathetic sound one could not bear to hear.

Li Wa heard it from her chamber, and said to her servant, “It must be him; I recognize the sound of his voice.” She hurried out and saw him, wizened, thin, broken out in sores, barely looking human. Touched by his plight, she asked, “Is that you?”

He was so resentful and angry that he could not speak; he could only bring himself to nod at her. Li Wa came forward and embraced his neck. Bundling him in her embroidered robe, she took him to the western chamber. Almost speechless with  grief, she said, “That he has come to this is all my fault.” She then fainted.

When she revived, her mother, greatly agitated, rushed in:

“What’s going on?”

“It is he,” replied Li Wa.

Her mother responded quickly, “Send him away. Why bring him here?”

But Li Wa pulled herself together and said, “impossible. He is the son of a noble family. When he first came to our place, he drove a grand carnage and was in fine attire. In less than a year he spent all he had. We swindled him and threw him out. That was inhuman. We have ruined his career and made him an outcast from his family. The relationship between father and son is one of nature. We broke this bond of affection to the point where his father beat him and left him for dead. That’s why he’s come to these straits. Everyone knows who brought him to this. His relatives fill the court. One day those in power will look into this matter from beginning to end. Then Calamity will fall upon us. What is more, if we deceive Heaven and turn our backs on men, the gods and spirits won’t be on our side. Let’s not give further cause for our ruin. Now I’ve been your daughter for twenty years, and I should have brought you no less than a thousand taels. You’re over sixty. I wish to give you enough for twenty years of living expenses to redeem my freedom. We’ll live in a place close by, so that we can still pay our respects to you daily. I should be most grateful to you if you would allow me to do this.”

The old woman could see that the girl was not to be dissuaded; so she consented. After paying her mother, Li Wa had one hundred taels left. She rented a place a few houses north. She then bathed the young man and changed his clothes. She fed him some rich gruel to clean out his Stomach; then she gave him some milk products to condition his intestines. Only after more than ten days did she dare offer him various delicacies from land and sea. The hats, shoes, and socks that she gave him were all of the finest quality. After a few months, he began to regain his weight. As the close of the year, he was fully recovered.

Li Wa on one occasion said to him, “Now your health is back to normal, and so is your will. If you spend lone time collecting yourself, do you think you can still remember what you learned before?”

The young man thought this over: “I think I’ve retained two or three things out of ten.”

Li Wa ordered a carriage and went out, with him following behind on horseback. When they reached the bookstores at the south gate of the Flag Tower, she told him to select whatever books he needed. This came to about one hundred taels. They loaded up all the books and drove back home.

She told him to forget about everything but setting his will on his studies. Turning night into day, he applied himself untiringly. Li Wa would often sit by his side, and they would not go to sleep until midnight. When she saw him growing tired of studying, she would tell him to compose some verse or rhyme-prose.

After two years, his study brought substantial results. He had read all the books available. “Now I should register for the examination,” he said to Li Wa.

“Not yet. You must be thoroughly versed in your studies in anticipation of a hundred battles.”

Another year passed, and Li Wa said he could now sit for the examination. He became a chin-shih of the first rank at the very first attempt, which made him known throughout the Ministry of Rites. The older scholars read his essays with great admiration. They wanted to befriend him, but did not have the opportunity of doing so.

“You still have a long way to go, “Li Wa said. “Today, if one manages so become a chin-shin he thinks that he is entitled to an eminent position at court and has already attained renown everywhere. But your past conduct was scandalous, so in this respect you’re not the equal of others. You must make further preparation to win again. Only then can you emerge supreme among the scholars and outshine the very best.”

So he made even greater demands upon himself, and his reputation rose accordingly. That year happened to be the one for the special examination which was set up to recruit the best talents in the country. He took part in the examination for “Government Criticism and Advice to the Emperor”; his name came out first on the list. He received an appointment as the head of a bureau at the Ch’eng-tu Prefecture.[7] By then he had made many friends of various ranks and positions at court.

When it came time for him to take up his post, Li Wa said to him, “Now that you’ve been restored to your original station, and I’ve proven to you that I’m not an ingrate, For the rest of my years, I wish to return home to look after my mother. You ought to marry a young woman of a prominent family, who can manage the household for you. Marriage is a serious business; don’t ruin it for yourself. Think about it and take good care of yourself. It’s time for me to say good-bye.”

This brought him to tears: “If you leave me, I’ll slit my throat.”

Li Wa was determined to go. He did his best to convince her that he was unquestionably sincere in begging her to stay. She said. She said, “I’ll accompany you across the river [Yangtze] to Chien-men;[8] then you must let me go.” He agreed.

In a little more than a month they had reached Chien-men. Before they set out again, the government gazette arrived. The young man’s father had been summoned from Ch’ang-chou to the capital to be appointed prefect of Ch’eng-tu and simultaneously investigating commissioner of the Chien-nan Circuit

When his father arrived ten days later, the young man sent his calling card and subsequently had an audience wish him at the courier station. At first his father did not believe the caller was his son. But seeing his grandfather’s and father’s official titles and personal names on the card, he was astounded. He asked his son to ascend the dais; thereupon he took him into his arms and wept bitterly. It was some time before he could say, “Now we’re father and son, just as it was before.”

Since his father wanted to know what had happened, the young man give a detailed account from beginning to end. The father was astonished by it. He asked where Li Wa was.

“She has accompanied me this far, but she insists that I should send her back.”

“You couldn’t do that.”

The next day the father ordered a carriage, and with his son first went on to Ch’eng-tu. He left Li Wa at Chien-men after acquiring a suitable residence for her. The following day he dispatched a matchmaker to arrange a formal marriage proposal and to prepare the six rites for the occasion.[9] Subsequently the young man and Li Wa were married.

Through the years, Li Wa proved herself to be a perfect wife. She kept the household strictly in order, so she was well loved by her relatives.

Some years later, the young man’s Father and mother both died. He maintained filial conduct to the utmost. In the hut he stayed in during the mourning period, a mythical stalk in the shape of a mushroom grew. The grain stalks in his district all had three blossoms. These events were duly reported to the higher authorities. There were also numerous white swallows nesting in his rafters. The emperor regarded these events as extremely unusual and accordingly he bestowed upon him many favors. After the mourning period, he was successively promoted from one illustrious poet to another. In ten years he had attained several prefectships. Li Wa was honored with the title of Lady Ch’ien.[10]

They had four sons, and all of them attained high office, the lowest being prefect of T’ai-yüan. The sons all married girls of the most illustrious of families. Thus their entire household flourished, and no families were on a par wish them. Ah, that a mere courtesan should comport herself so properly! Even the virtuous women of the past could not compare with her. How can one not marvel at this?

My great-uncle was once the prefect of Chinchou.[11] Later he was transferred to the Ministry of Finance and finally to the post of commissioner of water and land transport. In these three posts he was the successor of the young man of this story. He was therefore fully acquainted with the details of this affair. In the Chen-yüan reign period [785-806], I had occasion to talk with Li Kung-tso of Lung-hsi[12] about women of virtuous character, and so I told him the story of Lady Ch’ien. He clapped his hands and listened in awe. He insisted that I write it down. So I took up my brush, dipped it in ink, and sketched this story for the record. It was the eighth month in the autumn of the twelfth year of the calendar cycle [795],[13] the recorder being Po Hsing-chien of T’ai-yüan.