China's Courts and Concubines

Some People in Chinese History

Bernard Llewellyn

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2018
• Print ISBN: 9781138579996
• eBook ISBN: 9780429874383
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Scienze sociali
• Subtopic: Studi sull'etnia

This book, first published in 1956, contains the stuff of other people's memories. Thus you will read of magicians and immortals; of dragons and pills of eternal life; of generals and eunuchs; of emperors and poets; of palaces and concubines. The author has made nothing up; if there are liars along the route, they were there before he came along. The study of stories and ballads from deep in a country's past can tell a reader much about the present-day culture of a society; this is surely true with these tales from China's history.

1

The Cinderella of Chulo

HSI SHIH

IN Chinese history and legend there have been four superlatively beautiful women; but Hsi Shih, who has been called the Chinese Venus, was the most beautiful of them all. Her surpassing beauty made this peasant girl the consort of a king. And with her smile she laid waste a kingdom.

She was said to be so lovely that the moon hid its face in envy, while the flowers blushed because she was so much more beautiful than they.

Hsi Shih¹ was born in the little village of Chulo, not far from the great city of Hangchow, capital of Chekiang Province. Her parents were nobodies and never really understood how so beautiful a child had been born to them. Her mother, who did some weaving to supplement the meagre income which her husband got from collecting firewood, put it down to the fact that for months preceding the birth of the child she had drunk from the pure waters of the stream which ran in front of their hovel. It was as good an explanation as any other!

By the time she was sixteen, Hsi Shih was known locally as Hsi the Beauty. She earned her living washing silk floss in the stream, and spent a lot of time looking at her reflection in the water. Nor was she the only one to marvel at the rosy cheeks, the teeth like melon seeds, the soft complexion with skin as smooth as congealed ointment, the raven black hair, the slender hands whose fingers tapered away like bamboo shoots. People came to look at her while she worked, and a wandering fortune-teller prophesied that her destiny would be no common one.

He was right. The Chinese Cinderella did not have to wait long for her prince.

At this time—the opening decades of the fifth century B.C.—the warlike feudal states of Wu and Yueh were continually at each other’s throat, victory favouring first one side and then the other. Eventually King Fu Chai of Wu, whose capital was at Soochow in modern Kiangsu province, got the better of the exchanges, utterly defeating the Yueh army. For three years the Yueh ruler was forced to groom the royal horses in the enemy stables and to serve as a menial at the court. At the end of this period of servitude he was allowed to return to his defeated kingdom, which was now relegated to the position of a vassal state. There King Kou Chien remembered the indignities he had suffered and brooded long and earnestly over his revenge.

The plan which was to upset the placid peasant life of Hsi Shih is attributed to Kou Chien’s chief minister, Wen Chung, who suggested making the enemy ruler a present of a beautiful damsel who would take his mind off state affairs and generally undermine the security of the country. ‘The intangible power of a woman’s beauty and artfulness,’ said the minister, ‘may lead to the destruction of a nation.’

It took a long time to search the kingdom for a suitable lady. But the search eventually ended at a humble peasant cottage with a stream which people called Beauty’s Brook running past the door and the lovely Hsi Shih within.

‘At dawn a simple Yueh Chi girl she was;

At dusk a queen of Wu State she became.’²

According to the Chinese sage Chuang-tzu, this maiden’s beauty increased a hundredfold when she knitted her brows. Other Chulo village girls tried to copy this trait of hers; but they became even more hideous with disastrous results to their chances! One such ugly wench frowned to such effect that all the wealthy young bachelors in the neighbourhood barricaded their doors and refused to go out, while children ran screaming to their mothers.

For three years Hsi Shih lived in the royal court at Hangchow, being tutored for the day when she would be sent as a concubine to the King of Wu. All the arts that could enhance her natural fascination were taught her.

These arts were well known in China even then. In later centuries travellers to China were to rave over the attraction exercised by Chinese courtesans, who had regularly exercised their profession, with the sanction of the authorities, since the seventh century B.C. Marco Polo, well used to the beauties of Italian women, tells of the ladies he found at the end of the thirteenth century in this same part of the world where Hsi Shih was born. He describes the courtesans of Hangchow, which he calls Kinsai. These accomplished ladies, he says, ‘are perfect in the arts of blandishment and dalliance, which they accompany with expressions adapted to every description of person, insomuch that strangers, who have once tasted of their charms, remain in a state of fascination, and become so enchanted by their meretricious arts, that they can never divest themselves of the impression. Thus intoxicated with sensual pleasures, when they return to their homes they report that they have been in Kinsai, or the Celestial city, and pant for the time when they may be enabled to revisit paradise.’³

Thus embellished by the secret arts and mysteries of her sex Hsi Shih became still more ravishing. It is not surprising that her tutor Fan Li fell hopelessly in love with her, and she with him. Only by putting the Four Proprieties of chastity, quiet work, gentle speech and modest demeanour into effect was Hsi Shih able to keep her mind on the task that had been entrusted to her.

In the kingdom of Wu, this novel form of tribute was eagerly awaited by the King. He scoffed at the advice of the wisest man at his court, old Wu Tzu-hsu, who feared the Greeks even when they brought gifts, and suspected the beautiful concubine was a trap. Had not, Wu Tzu-hsu pointed out, courtesans brought about the fall of bygone dynasties? Could it not happen again in Wu?

Chinese scholars were as apt as the lawyers in discovering precedents, and Wu’s memory of the ancient books had not betrayed him. There were three notorious examples of beautiful women who had caused the collapse of dynasties. First in time was the vicious and enchanting Mo Hsi, who was beloved of the tyrant Chieh of the Hsia dynasty. The greatest delight of this couple was to go boating on a lake filled with wine, while around them a bevy of naked men and women took part in a drunken orgy. Rebellion when it finally came could hardly have been unexpected.

Then there was the lovely and wicked T’a Chi who captivated the giant Shang Emperor Chou Hsin, of whom it was said that he refuted good advice with his eloquence, and with his wit veiled his faults. This tyrant possessed a scientific curiosity. He had his live father’s heart exposed to see if it had seven orifices as he suspected; he cut open the bellies of women in childbirth to discover the child’s sex; he broke open men’s bones in winter to see if the marrow had frozen.⁴ And he loved T’a Chi and neglected his kingdom. When rebellion succeeded, he set fire to his palace and perished in the flames. But the lovely T’a Chi was executed by a man who had to mask his eyes against the appeal of her charms.

The third was Pao Ssu, concubine of Yu the Gloomy, Emperor of Chou. She had extravagant tastes like the others, and loved to tear fine lengths of expensive silk into useless strips. Like her lord, she seldom smiled; and it was to make her smile that the Emperor lit the beacon fires which were to rally his retainers to the defence of the throne. The experiment worked. Pao Ssu shrieked with laughter to see the troops assembling at this false alarm. But the officers, who disliked being made fools of for a lady s pleasure, vowed not to be fooled again. So when the throne was really threatened and the signal beacons lit, no notice was taken and the gloomy pair fell into rebel hands.

Wu Tzu-hsu knew the precedents all right, and felt his suspicions were justified. But Fu Chai in his wisdom decided that things were different. History did not repeat itself. It could not happen to him. In blissful ignorance he sat on his golden throne, attended by his retinue, waiting for the heralds who would announce the arrival of the peerless girl whose reputation had preceded her.

She entered the palace like a princess of royal blood, her long black hair ornamented with pearls and kingfisher feathers. On her lips was the smile that was to bring death and ruin to a people.

The story tellers assure us that from the moment he saw her, Fu Chai never really had a chance. He was utterly captivated by this woman who was fairer than all his concubines. There is a tale that Wu Tzu-hsu persuaded his master to get Hsi Shih drunk to see if she would betray the plan the shrewd old counsellor suspected. It is said, moreover, that she did betray herself, but that the royal lover was so befuddled by her eyes and smile and enchanting witchery that he never understood what the wine had made her tell.

So began the undermining of the state of Wu. The King spent his days and nights dallying with Hsi Shih, who sang and danced for him, played the flute, and recited poems to the man who now lived only for her. Like Shakespeare’s Cleopatra, she made hungry where she most satisfied. Fu Chai could no longer be bothered with government, and the control of affairs passed into the hands of his corrupt prime minister who had already accepted bribes from the State of Yueh.

The immortal wine-sodden poet Li Po was to tell, more than a thousand years later, of Fu Chai’s new interests.

‘The Prince of Wu is feasting on the Kusu Terrace.

Hsi Shih, his Queen, dances flushed with wine;

She is fair and unresisting.

Now, smiling, she leans near the East Window

On a couch of jade.’⁵

This Kusu Terrace had been built at enormous cost especially for Hsi Shih.

This was only the beginning of the buildings and parks that were built to satisfy the whims of a woman who saw her mission in the enemy’s camp as mapped out for her on the charts of Heaven. In the parks Hsi Shih would go fishing, and sometimes as she walked along beautiful birds would perch on her shoulder.

There were bitter murmurings among the people when Fu Chai built, on a hill outside the capital, the Palace of Beautiful Women. There were still more murmurings against the oppressive rule of the prime minister who, while his master sported with his concubine, accumulated vast personal wealth and ruled the people with an iron hand. Counsellor Wu Tzuhsu, the only honest man in the kingdom, begged the King to take control again before it was too late. His pleas, as before, went unheeded.

The King was not satisfied with his latest palatial extravaganza. He followed this by commanding his architects to build the Colonnade of Musical Shoes on an adjoining site where Hsi Shih had once danced. This has been described as a floor of white marble laid on top of thousands of earthenware jars. ‘Beneath this was a hollow cavity fifteen feet deep, which resounded with a ringing melodious sound like the chiming of bells whenever Hsi Shih trod on it. To prevent her from slipping, the marble floor was cut and embossed with dragons and phoenixes.’⁶ Moreover, Hsi Shih wore special hardwood shoes which gave forth musical notes as she danced.

But Hsi Shih grew tired of dancing; the King had to find other expensive ways of keeping this archetype of ‘gold-diggers’ amused. He built a private bathing pool, on the edge of which was a pavilion filled with every kind of toilet requisite: the cosmetics were stored in jars of pure jade; the combs were made of ivory and set in gold. Then followed a Moon Terrace, a Hall of Musical Harmony, a park filled with birds and tame animals.

Some say that three quarters of the state’s resources were spent to keep the enchanting smile on Hsi Shih’s face or the still more bewitching frown on her brow. But mindful always of her secret mission, the King’s favourite tired of every novelty and called for still more ingenious delights.

Yet now and again her true nature would out, as when she distributed food and money to the poor, or when she gave some flowers to peasant women and told them to plant them in their gardens to remind them of her when she had gone from them.

Fu Chai remained devoted to her. Sometimes he took her boating on the Stream of Fragrant Flowers while three hundred girls in transparent robes danced along the marble embankments. He was so happy that he never heard the groans of the people. His consort’s smile blinded him to what was happening in the rival state of Yueh.

There, one day, Minister Fan Li received a letter by special messenger from his former pupil, whom he still loved above all other women. ‘The Wu state,’ Hsi Shih h...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Table of Contents
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction
• 1. The Cinderella of Chulo
• 2. The Builder and the Burner
• 3. Wu and the Wizards of Han
• 4. The Sleeping Dragon
• 5. The Shady Emperor
• 6. The Banished Immortal
• 7. The Queen of Concubines
• 8. The Prince of Painters
• 9. The Unholy Nun
• 10. The Recluse of the Eastern Slope
• 11. The Execrated Eunuch
• 12. The Captive Concubines
• 13. The Emperor and the Monk
• 14. The Buddha of the Great Within
• Notes and Sources
• Index