Courtesans and Opium: Romantic Illusions of the Fool of Yangzhou

Because Paria had sacrificed her life to die with her husband, Yuan Shou had been filled with admiration for her and had invited the warden and the neighbors to join him in presenting a petition to both the director of studies and the magistrate of Jiangdu county. The officials accepted the petition and within a few days approved it, each appending a statement of his own findings. They then prepared a document to submit to the prefect of Yangzhou, the intendant of the Huaiyang circuit, and the Jiangning lieutenant governor of the province. Each of these men appended his own statement and sent it on to the governor, the director of studies, and the governor-general of Liangjiang, who made a joint submission to the emperor. After Yuan Shou had received the officials’ endorsement, he wrote out an announcement on yellow paper entitled “Petition Requesting Bestowal of Honor by Emperor Endorsed by Three High Officials,” stuck it on both sides of his gate, and awaited news of the emperor’s response.

Let me turn to Wu Zhen, who had been locked up in the Ganquan county jail for over a year. One day the governor of Jiangsu received an urgent warrant from the Ministry of Justice. His office then drew up a document and sent it on to Ganquan county. On receipt of it, the magistrate promptly told his clerk to prepare both full and summary reports with signed comments and detailed two men to serve as prisoner escorts. (Their names were none other than Zhang Qian and Li Wan.1) Next morning he authorized the jail warden to check the name and transfer the prisoner, then issued a warrant and gave it to the escorts to take to the prison and fetch him. Wu Zhen had learned the day before that the warrant was due to arrive and had sent word home in time. Hearing that the escorts had come for him, he brought his baggage and clothes out of his cell. The escorts took him to the jail warden’s office to wait until the warden mounted his tribunal, checked Wu Zhen’s name, examined his manacles, and issued money for rations. He sealed up the warrant and the two reports and handed them to the escorts, then left the tribunal. The escorts brought Wu Zhen out of the jail, called a porter to carry his baggage, and took him out of the city by way of South Gate.

Wu Zhen’s wife, Mistress Wang, and their two sons—the elder eleven years old, the younger just nine—accompanied by her two brothers had stationed themselves at the end of the road to greet him. His brothers-in-law invited Wu Zhen and the escorts to a quiet restaurant, where they and the escorts drank wine while Wu Zhen and his wife sat off to one side. “It was foolish of me to dally with a courtesan and incite someone’s hatred,” said Wu Zhen. “I was framed, and now I’m on my way into exile, leaving you on your own while still a young woman.” He pointed to his two sons. “Our brats are still very young. You’ll need to be strict with them and see that they work hard at their studies. When they grow up, they must learn to behave properly. Don’t let them go near any brothels. If they don’t obey you, you can use what is happening to me today as a warning. I doubt that after this I’ll ever be able to come home again; if we are to meet again, it will have to be in the next life, and I leave all of the family responsibilities in your hands. But now my heart is beating too wildly, and I can’t say any more.” His eyes filled with tears.

Mistress Wang and the two boys cried their eyes out. At length, fighting back her tears, she said, “Don’t worry about the family. I’ll do everything in my power to support them. I only hope that after a year or so there’ll be an amnesty and we can be reunited. See you take good care of yourself on the road. When you get there, send me a letter to put my mind at rest.” She began sobbing again. Her brothers came over to calm her, and she and Wu Zhen finally stopped their crying. The brothers consoled Wu Zhen for a while, then led him over to their table.

“I’m asking you to look after the family for me,” said Wu Zhen. “My two boys will be relying on you for discipline.”

“Don’t worry,” they said. “We’ll make a point of looking after things. Take good care of yourself on the journey.” They urged Wu Zhen and the two escorts to eat and drink. The brothers then paid the bill, and Mistress Wang gave her husband clothes for the different seasons as well as money for travel expenses, and he handed the clothes to the porter to carry and tucked the money away. He and his wife clung to each other, reluctant to part, while the escorts kept urging him to leave. Finally he steeled himself and left the restaurant with them, followed by the porter.

When the governor-general, the governor, and the director of studies had received the submission from the Jiangning lieutenant governor, they prepared a joint petition to the emperor. It was remitted to the Ministries of Rites and Revenue and then, following clarification, resubmitted to the emperor, who, with his great benevolence, issued an order giving permission for Paria’s tablet to be enshrined and providing public funds for the construction of a memorial arch. The ministerial order left the capital and made its way from one office to another until it arrived at the Jiangdu yamen. On receiving it, the magistrate sent runners to summon Yuan Shou to court and gave him money from the treasury. The sum allocated for constructing the arch was originally thirty taels, but each office had deducted its charges. Yuan Shou signed a receipt for what remained and took it home with him. Adding some of his own money, he bought materials, hired workmen, and started construction of the arch. He also borrowed funeral articles and insignia, a sedan for the spirit tablet, and so forth. When everything was ready, he selected an auspicious date for the enshrinement. Friends and relatives were informed in advance. When Jia Ming, Wei Bi, and the friends and relatives heard the news, they all brought presents. On the day itself, the neighboring streets were packed with people, both men and women—an exceptionally lively scene.

Let me turn to Mu Zhu, Yuan You’s cousin. He lived in the Mu Family Village on the south side of Huo Family Bridge, where he worked on the family farm. He had taken a wife, who had recently given birth to a son, and Mu Zhu had been meaning to visit the jeweler’s on New Victory Street in the city to buy a silver chain and bracelet for the baby. It so happened that Yuan Shou had sent someone to inform the Mu family of the date of the enshrinement, and Mu Zhu’s father had promptly prepared congratulatory presents and told Mu Zhu to go to the city for two purposes: to convey congratulations to the Yuan family, and also to buy the chain and bracelet for his grandson. Mu Zhu was elated at the prospect and changed into a completely new outfit—hat, clothes, shoes, and socks—before heading for the city. When he reached the main street outside Old Lane in the Old City, he found crowds of men and women jammed tightly together. He didn’t know what the occasion was, but he was forced to observe the scene from a shop doorway. He heard a gong and saw two pairs of tall papier-mâché and bamboo-splint lanterns on which the words “By imperial order, gracious permission for enshrinement” were written in red ink. Then came several pairs of placards signifying the officials’ rank with embossed gold characters on a vermilion background, reading, “Candidate for Director of Studies,” “Graduate of Provincial Military Examination,” and “Candidate for Battalion Commander,” “Dame of Candidate for Assistant County Magistrate,” and the like. There were also two placards reading, “Keep away” and “Silence,” four “Clear the road flying tiger” banners, as well as civil and military insignia. There were also two pairs of yellow signboards with red characters reading, “By imperial order, gracious permission for enshrinement.” There were many insignia of rank, a yellow silk umbrella with a gold button, a yellow parasol with a dragon painted on it, and four censers giving off a faint scent. Behind came eight men wearing pale yellow summer hats with red buttons on top and uniforms of yellow cloth, carrying a covered yellow sedan on which an incense table had been set. Behind the sedan were guards and runners, red umbrellas and green parasols, a pair of silver maces, as well as drummers and flutists playing. There were also men from the garrison on two pairs of horses, and a junior officer wearing a brimless silk hat with a gold button on top and a military uniform riding a lead horse. He was followed by four artemisia braziers.

There were many relatives and friends in bright clothes and caps, each holding Ten Thousand Year incense as they walked proudly by. There were also two servants carrying a pair of large round horn lanterns on which was written “Title of Dame imperially conferred.” Behind came four laborers wearing red summer hats without tassels and black uniforms, who were carrying a red sandalwood sedan with carved designs. From its four corners hung small square glass lanterns. Inside the sedan was a spirit tablet of nanmu with pale blue characters that read, “Tablet of the Lady Zhen,2 virtuous wife of Youying, Master Yuan, on whom according to precedent the title of an Official of the Eighth Rank is conferred. By imperial order to honor her chastity, permission graciously given to build an arch and enshrine her tablet.” Directly behind the sedan came a host of different insignia.

No sooner had the procession passed by than the many spectators who had come to see the exciting spectacle began to voice their opinions. One said, “The tablet in that sedan just now was that of a woman by the name of Paria. She not only sacrificed herself at the time of her husband’s death, she also had a talent for expressing herself. I’ve read her ‘Eternal Farewell,’ which is genuinely moving. She’s the most remarkable person ever to come out of the brothels. What a pity she was denied a good coffin and a worthy end to her life! But by living in this glorious age, thanks to His Imperial Majesty’s great benevolence, her name will be passed down through the ages—a case of posthumous fame.”

“I’ve seen a lot of jealous women,” said the second one, “but I’ve never seen anyone to equal Yuan You’s wife. It’s all very well to be jealous and quarrel with your husband during his lifetime, but after her husband’s death she transferred her anger to Paria. She stripped off Paria’s clothes and didn’t dress her properly for the laying-in or allow her a good coffin. Such vicious behavior puts her beyond all other jealous viragoes. And now today Paria is being given this honor! I just wonder what sort of end the wife will come to.”

“If this fellow Yuan hadn’t dallied with prostitutes and become infatuated with that whore, he never would have abandoned his wife and forced her to sleep alone,” said a third. “That’s why she quarreled with him all the time. Yuan You rented a house for Paria and lived with her instead of at home. He treated his wife as a stranger and cut off all communication with her. And now there are no children. Isn’t it true that the Yuan family line will come to an end? The Sage said, ‘There are three unfilial acts, and leaving no descendants is the worst of them.’3 From this we can see that anyone who dallies with prostitutes is the most unfilial of men.”

“If we were to believe what you people say,” said a fourth man, “there couldn’t be any such person as Paria in the brothels. According to you, whores are all fancy talk and fine promises; they cheat you out of your money; they cause you to be obsessed with sex, to quarrel with your wife, to squander your property, to lose your money and your life; there are simply no good and virtuous women among them. But isn’t this tablet we’re honoring today that of a prostitute who married and then sacrificed her life in order to die with her husband?”

“You may claim that she’s an outstandingly virtuous woman from the brothels,” said a fifth man, “but in my opinion, if this fellow Yuan hadn’t dallied with prostitutes, married this Paria, and set her up in her own house, he wouldn’t have indulged his sexual desires by night and day and worn himself out, developed consumption, and died vomiting blood. In the last analysis, it’s best not to go near any of those places.”

And so the argument continued, back and forth. Just as they were arriving at a stalemate, they saw a man in his fifties, white-haired, toothless, and haggard, who was clapping his hands and singing in a loud voice:

The people watching were amazed. One man said, “I know that fellow who was singing just now. His name is Guo Shi, style Lairen [Old Hand].4 He used to get his greatest pleasure from drinking and staying overnight in the brothels—he was completely infatuated with them. I wonder why he’s clapping his hands and singing like that. He must have been cheated by some prostitute and felt so crushed by the experience that he’s gone out of his mind. Did you hear those two words ‘fine’ and ‘over’ that he kept repeating in his song? I believe that once our affairs in this world reach the point of being fine, they’re over. In the case of brothels, the finer we want our experience to be, the sooner it’s over. I have no idea where he might have gone. Let me go and tell his family.” He hurried off to do so.

His wife and children were astonished. After thanking the man who brought them the news, they fanned out in all directions looking for Old Hand, but although they searched for many days, they found no trace of him. Only later, when I, your narrator, lost my way and ended up on Mount Self-Deception did I learn that he had retired deep into the mountains and become an immortal. There he presented me with this book, Romantic Illusions, which contained the following four poems on its final page.