Plum Shadows and Plank Bridge, by Mao Xiang and Yu Huai (Chen Yuanyuan)

Plum Shadows AN D

Plank Bridge

R

T WO MEMOIRS ABOUT COURTESANS

by M AO X I A NG and Y U HUAI

Translated and edited by WA I - Y E E L I

Chen Yuanyuan

W U W E I Y E , “ Y UA N Y UA N ’ S S O N G ” ൃ​ൃᴢ (ca. 1652) (WMC 1:78–80)

唾⒆⮦ᰕỴӪ䯃 ⹤ᮥ᭦Ӝл⦹䰌 តଝ‫ޝ‬䓽Ⲷ㑎㍐ 㺍ߐаᙂ⛪㌵乿 ㌵乿⍱㩭䶎੮ᠰ 䘶䋺ཙӑ㠚㦂䆼 䴫ᦳ哳ᐮᇊ唁ኡ ଝ㖧ੋ㿚޽⴨㾻 ⴨㾻ࡍ㏃⭠ヷᇦ ‫ן‬䮰ⅼ㡎ࠪྲ㣡

Back then when the emperor abandoned the human realm,1 he crushed the enemy and took the capital, bearing down from Jade Pass.2 Wailing in grief were the six armies, all clad in the white of mourning.

Raising his headgear was one rush of fury, all for the sake of the fair one.3 The fair one, drifting and fallen, was not what I cherished.

Heaven smote the offending bandits wallowing in wanton pleasures.

Lightning swept the Yellow Turbans, quelled the Black Mountain troops;4 having wailed for ruler and kin, I saw her again.5 We met first at the abode of imperial relative by marriage— 6 with songs and dance she emerged, flowerlike, at the noble house.

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䁡ሷᡊ䟼㇌ㇼԾ ㅹਆሷ䓽⋩໱䓺 ᇦᵜခ㰷⎓㣡䟼 ൃ​ൃሿᆀᄼ㖵㏪ དྷੁཛᐞ㤁㻿䙺 ᇞၕ᫱‫⦻ੋޕ‬䎧 ࡽ䓛ਸᱟ᧑㬞Ӫ 䮰ࡽа⡷ₛຈ≤ ₛຈ䴉‣৫ྲ伋 օ㲅䊚ᇦᕧ䔹↨ ↔䳋䉸⸕䶎㮴ભ ↔ᱲਚᴹ␊⋮㺓 㯠ཙ᜿≓䙓ᇞᧆ ᰾⵨ⳃ喂❑Ӫᜌ ྚ↨≨ᐧ䮹㢟ᇦ ᮉቡᯠ㚢‫ۮ‬඀ᇒ ඀ᇒ伋䀤㌵ᰕ᳞ аᴢ૰㍳ੁ䃠䁤

Two Famous Courtesans

The promise was that the musical entertainer of the exalted lane would wait for the general’s shiny painted carriage.

My family was from Washing Flowers Lane of Gusu.7 Lovely in fine silks, I am called Yuanyuan.

In my dreams I wandered to the gardens of King Fucha.

Palace women ushered me in: the ruler rose.8 In my former life I must have been a lotus gatherer; in front of my house was an expanse of the Hengtang stream.

On Hengtang a pair of oars moved away, as if in flight— whence the powerful family that by force carried her away?

At that moment, how could she know it was not ill fate?

That was the time when she could only let tears freely flow.

Overreaching sway extended to the palaces, but none cherished her shining eyes and bright smile.9 Snatched from the palace and confined to a respectable home, she was taught new songs to entrance the guests.

The guests let cups fly in toast till the glowing sun set; to whom could this song of sorrow be sung?

Two Famous Courtesans

ⲭⳉ䙊‫ן‬ᴰቁᒤ ᧰ਆ㣡᷍ኒഎ亗 ᰙᭌᄼ匕ࠪ›㊐ ᖵᗇ䢰⋣ᒮᱲ⑑ ᚘ⇪䓽ᴨᓅ↫ۜ 㤖⮉ᖼ㌴ሷӪ䃔 ⴨㌴ᚙ␡⴨㾻䴓 аᵍ㸫䋺┯䮧ᆹ ਟៀᙍ႖⁃九ḣ 䂽֌ཙ䚺㊹㎞ⴻ ᗗ㍒㏐⨐ഽ‫ޗ‬ㅜ ᕧબ㎣⁩ࠪ䴅ℴ 㤕䶎༟༛‫ޘ‬ᑛऍ ⡝ᗇ㴮ⴹ३俜䚴 㴮ⴹ俜кۣબ䙢 䴢兏нᮤ傊兲ᇊ 㹏⛜䗾ֶ൘ᡠ๤ ஬࿍┯䶒⇈㌵ঠ ሸᖱ㉛啃ੁ〖ᐍ

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Fair was that young man with a noble title: he picked a flowering branch and repeatedly looked back.10 Make haste to take the lovely bird out of her cage; till when could we wait to cross the River of Heaven?11 Most hateful was the relentless haste urged by military missives.

Painstakingly we planned the later meeting that almost eluded us.

Planned with such love, that meeting became hopeless as the capital was, overnight, crawling with bandits.

Pity the pining wife gazing at willows on her tower—12 she was but taken for willow catkins by the edge of the sky.

They besieged the inner court, looking for her everywhere.

Shouting for her, they forced her to emerge from carved balustrades.13 Had it not been for the brave man who achieved total victory, how could the lady have returned on a lone horse?

For the lady on horseback came summons to proceed.

Her coiffure askew, she was still in shock.

Candles welcomed her on the battlefield; on her tear-streaked face were traces of rouge.

With flutes and drums, the supreme commander headed to Qinchuan—14

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䠁⢋䚃к䓺ॳ҈ ᯌ䉧䴢␡䎧⮛⁃ ᮓ䰌ᴸ㩭䮻࿍䨑 ֶۣ⎸᚟┯⊏䜹 ⛿ẅ㌵㏃ॱᓖ䵌 ᮉᴢԾᑛៀቊ൘ ⎓㍇ྣդ៦਼㹼 㠺ᐒ‫ޡ‬ᱟ䣌⌕⠅ 伋к᷍九䆺匣ࠠ 䮧ੁሺࡽᛢ㘱བྷ ᴹӪཛႯ᫵‫⦻ן‬ ⮦ᱲਚਇ㚢᰾㍟ 䋤ᡊ਽䊚ㄦᔦ㠤 аᯋ᰾⨐㩜ᯋᜱ 䰌ኡ┲⋺㞠᭟㍠ 䥟ᙘ⣲付仪㩭㣡 ❑䚺᱕㢢ֶཙൠ ే㚎‫ۮ‬഻㠷‫ۮ‬෾

Two Famous Courtesans

on the Golden Bull Road were thousands of carriages.15 At Slanting Valley, deep in the clouds, a painted tower rose.

The moon set over Sanguan, as she opened her makeup case.16 Her news came, filling all corners of her homeland— the tallow trees have already turned red with frost ten times.

Music teachers of the pleasure quarters were moved by her survival, female companions in washing silk remembered her among their ranks.17 In the old nest they were together as swallows, mud in beaks; now she has flown to the branch’s tip, transformed into a phoenix.

Some turn to the wine flask, mourning the passing of years, Some have husbands who prevail as lords.

Then she was burdened by her fame, noble and powerful houses vied to be her patron.

“One peck of pearls” was sung with ten thousand pecks of sorrow;18 she wasted away as she drifted through the land.

But she was wrong to blame the ruthless wind for scattering fallen blossoms,19 for boundless spring has returned to heaven and earth.

I have heard of beauties who toppled kingdoms and cities,

Two Famous Courtesans

㘫֯ઘ䛾ਇ䟽਽ ࿫ᆀ䉸៹䰌བྷ䀸 㤡䳴❑ླྀᱟཊᛵ ‫ޘ‬ᇦⲭ僘ᡀ⚠൏ аԓ㌵࿍➗⊇䶂 ੋн㾻 佘ဳࡍ䎧卋卖ᇯ 䎺ྣྲ㣡ⴻн䏣 俉䙅ລ⭏匕㠚஬ ኗᓺӪ৫㤄オ㏐ ᨋ㗭〫ᇞ㩜䟼ᜱ ⨐ⅼ㘐㡎ਔằᐎ ⛪ੋࡕୡ੣ᇞᴢ ╒≤ᶡইᰕཌ⍱

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yet against all odds she gave Master Zhou a great name.20 Why should wives be tied to affairs of state?

But then a hero cannot help his deep feelings.

His entire family’s white bones have turned into dust,21 a lady most famed in her era illumines the records of history.

Do you not see?

They have just risen from conjugal bliss in the Guanwa Palace.22 The flowerlike Yue maiden— one cannot see enough of her.

Dust gathers on the Fragrant Stream, birds cry in unconcern.

She is gone from the Corridor of Footsteps; the moss turns green in vain.

There is infinite sorrow in the changes of tunes and scales; bejeweled singers and dancers performed the ancient “Song of Liangzhou.”

In parting I sing for you the song of Wu palace, as the Han River flows southeast, day and night.23 555

[Translator’s note] Wu Weiye knew Mao Xiang, whose brief dalliance with Chen Yuanyuan is described in Plum Shadows. Wu might also have known Chen Yuanyuan personally. His own lover, Bian Sai, apparently lived in the same lane as Chen (Lindun li). Wu’s famous

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Two Famous Courtesans

poem plays a decisive role in shaping the narrative that the military commander Wu Sangui (1612–1678) shifted his allegiance to the Qing because Chen Yuanyuan was held by the rebels when Beijing fell and he needed the help of Qing troops to recover his concubine. Some Qing historians and most modern historians dismiss or dispute Chen’s supposedly pivotal role in Wu Sangui’s calculations. In this poem, Wu sidesteps all indictment of Chen Yuanyuan, who seems to be more a victim than a femme fatale (or at the most she is an inadvertent and involuntary one) and focuses his caustic wit on Wu Sangui. Wu Sangui’s claim of avenging “ruler and father” is tied to the official version of the dynastic transition: namely, the Qing waged a war of vengeance against the rebels on behalf of the martyred Chongzhen emperor. By focusing on Yuanyuan’s role, Wu Weiye is implicitly claiming that the concatenation of circumstances that led to the Qing conquest was fortuitous and avoidable, tied to willful passions and accidental obsessions.24 The final lines of the poem led some Qing readers to marvel at Wu Weiye’s prescience: Wu Sangui eventually rebelled against the Qing and joined other army commanders who had defected to the Manchus and facilitated the conquest in the 1640s and the 1650s in the so-called Rebellion of the Three Border Principalities (1673–1681). The crushing of the rebellion marked the consolidation of Qing rule. At issue, however, is not so much the specific prediction of Wu Sangui’s downfall as a sense of mutability that mocks the illusion of glory and power.

S H E N Q I U, “ I N C I D E N TA L AC C O U N T S A B O U T Y UA N Y UA N ” 2 5 ( 1 6 8 0 s )

Chen Yuanyuan was a famous courtesan from Suzhou. In the xinsi year of the Chongzhen reign (1641), she was eighteen, excelled in singing and dancing, and belonged to the Pear Garden. With her serene beauty and fair complexion, she looked like a well-born lady of the inner chamber and had absolutely none of the manners of

This volume presents two memoirs by famous men of letters, Reminiscences of the Plum Shadows Convent by Mao Xiang (1611–93) and Miscellaneous Records of Plank Bridge by Yu Huai (1616–96), that recall times spent with courtesans in the final decades of the Ming dynasty and the aftermath of its collapse.

“Wai-yee Li’s translations of these famous Chinese memoirs of romantic brio and pathos from the seventeenth century are a marvel of precision, elegance, and wit—a perfect match for the book’s sensual, tragic contents. Her brilliant annotations and supplemental translations help unlock a whole lost historical world of incomparable richness.”—JUDITH ZEITLIN, University of Chicago “This translation is masterful. Li is most assuredly one of the world’s foremost experts on this subject and does an exemplary job of maintaining each text’s distinctive voices and overall tone. These works are good reads, hugely influential and valuable, and contrasting examples of an important genre heretofore scantly represented and poorly understood in the English-speaking world.”

—ANDREW SCHOENBAUM, University of Maryland “These memoirs are unique in world literature. The courtesans at the center of these pieces were masters of literati culture, and around them gathered some of the most famous literati in a time of impending doom. Li’s translations are accurate and well annotated, and read smoothly. Few scholars can match her understanding of the language of these texts, which deserve to be read by a wide audience.”

—KEITH McMAHON, Kansas University “An elegant and erudite translation of iconic texts introducing the men and women of the Ming-Qing transition period, this volume evokes the richly imagined world of the Jiangnan courtesan through the words of her male admirers. Plum Shadows and Plank Bridge provides essential reading for courses on China’s seventeenth century.”

—TOBIE MEYER-FONG, Johns Hopkins University

WAI-YEE LI is professor of Chinese literature at Harvard University. Her publications include Women and National Trauma in Late Imperial Chinese Literature (2014) and The Columbia Anthology of Yuan Drama (Columbia, 2014).

TRANSLATIONS FROM THE ASIAN CLASSICS

ISBN: 978-0-231-18684-1

Cover image: Harvard Art Museums/Arthur Sackler Museum, Oriental Objects Fund - detail.

Photo: © President and Fellows of Harvard College Beautiful Woman in Her Boudoir, Traditionally said to be a portrait of Madame Hedong or Liu Rushi (1618-1664) by Wu Zhuo (active 17th century), ca. 18th century, Qing dynasty.

Hanging scroll, ink and color on silk.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS NEW YORK CUP.COLUMBIA.EDU

Cover design: Lisa Hamm

Printed in the U.S.A.