Women, especially the beautiful ones, were considered to be the root of all evil by the Chinese sages. With 3,900 young, passionate and restless creatures under the same roof, even a kingdom might be easily overthrown.
The case of Emperor Eu Wang (781-770 B.C.) of the Chou dynasty is one dramatic example.
Eu Wang had a favorite concubine named Pao Shih who liked nothing quite so much as the sound of satin being torn. To please her, Eu Wang ordered that 200 yards of silk be ripped to pieces daily within her earshot. Fickle Pao Shih soon lost interest and began to sulk. Eu Wang tried everything but the concubine had not even one smile. Finally a courtier made a suggestion.
As a defense against northern barbarians, there were smoke-signal towers on the capital wall to summon feudal lords in time of emergency. The courtier suggested false alarms to call the lords. He thought the royal concubine would be amused by the reactions of the nobles when they found they bad been tricked. Such was the case. Pao Shih laughed and laughed and was happy.
One day a fierce tribe of barbarians came down from the mountains and besieged the city. The emperor ordered the emergency signals and the air was filled with smoke. But the feudal lords thought it was another trick and did not come. The city was taken and the emperor and his women were carried away by the barbarians. No one saw or heard of them again.
Almost 15 centuries later, a ruler of the great Tang dynasty also found tragedy in love. Affection of Emperor Ming Huang (685-762 A.D.) for his concubine Yang Kwei-fei brought about a rebellion that almost toppled his empire. Though the realm was saved by loyal generals, the emperor lost his beloved while fleeing rebellious soldiers. Once the revolt was put down, the emperor returned to his palace, almost out of his mind thinking of his lost love. With the help of a magician, he finally conveyed his affection to the spirit of Yang Kwei-fei. She answered that as long as their love didn't die, they eventually would be reunited.
Ming Huang's love story has inspired literature by poets and prose writers through the centuries. The most famous is an epic poem by Po Chu-i of Tang times. Entitled "The Everlasting Wrong" it describes the rise of Yang Kwei-fei, her tragic fate at the hands of the soldiery, and her subsequent communication with her heartbroken lover from the world of shadows.
The *poem begins:
His Imperial Majesty, a slave to beauty,
longed for a "subverter of empires";
For years he had sought in vain
to secure such a treasure for his palace.
From the Yang family came a maiden
just grown up to womanhood.
Reared in the inner apartments,
altogether unknown to fame.
But nature had amply endowed her
with a beauty hard to conceal.
And one day she was summoned
to a place at the monarch's side.
This is the story of Ming Huang and Yang Kwei-fei:
On his accession to the throne in 712 A.D., Ming Huang had prospects for a good reign. The country was prosperous until 740. The emperor was a patron of literature and a great lover of music. Dissatisfied with the 3,000 women in his palace, he gave orders for a census to seek out the female beauties of his empire. Ministers warned him of disaster, recalling that the sages had said a glance from a beautiful woman could overthrow a city, two glances an empire. The emperor ignored them.
Real beauty turned out to be rarer than diamonds or emeralds. Thousands of favorable reports poured in from provincial governors, but the girls summoned to the palace for royal appraisal were rejected as imperfect. His Majesty grew annoyed and impatient.
Just as Emperor Ming Huang was giving up hope, he found his romantic fate. Walking alone in the royal gardens, he came face to face with a young lady whose shattering beauty,
"shamed flowers to close their petals and the moon to hide behind clouds;
fish to sink to the bottom and swans to plunge down from the sky."
The emperor knew his heart had been won. As he stood bewildered, the girl turned away and disappeared. Ming Huang ordered the girl found and brought before him.
But it was not so easy. She turned out to be Yang Yu-huan, later to be known as Yang Kwei-fei, the wife of the emperor's son, Prince Shou Wang. Even an emperor was not supposed to take his daughter-in-law.
Ming Huang vainly tried to forget the girl. He became irritated and his health deteriorated. He lost his appetite and refused to sleep with any of his 3,000 wives and concubines. Palace attendants were severely punished because of trifles that angered the monarch.
A wise eunuch, Kao Li-shih, knew what was on his Majesty's mind. "It's easy," he told the emperor. "Stop worrying and I shall fix everything for you."
Before Yang Yu-huan (Jade Bracelet) became the consort of Prince Shou Wang, she had been a commoner. She lived with her parents and three sisters in the capital city of Chang-an. As was proper for unmarried girls, the sisters never stepped outside the house. They stayed in their chambers learning embroidery, painting, music, reading and writing. But true beauty is hard to conceal. Their names became so widely known that one day a messenger brought word that Prince Shou Wang wanted Yu-huan, the most beautiful of the four, as his wife. This was good news for the family, because marriage with nobility meant certain wealth.
Yu-huan was 18 when she married the prince. At once she was plunged into the busy life of high society. She attended parties, associated with princesses and countesses, and led a gay, expensive life. On New Year's day, she visited the royal palace to do homage to her father-in-law, the emperor. On the second such visit she encountered the emperor himself in the garden. She went home worried for fear she had committed an offense.
Two months later an old woman visited her and the two talked for half a day. Princess Yu-huan then fell sick. She appeared to be unconscious. Doctors could only say that she had no fever and her pulse was normal. To save her life, Prince Shou Wang reluctantly sent her to a nunnery, hoping the power of Buddha would save her.
Yu-huan recovered quickly. But she refused to go back to her husband, declaring that she was happier in the convent. The prince argued, pleaded and threatened, but his wife's heart seemed to have turned to stone. The dejected prince gave up and soon married again.
Kao Li-shih, the eunuch, wasted no time. Before Yu-huan had been in the nunnery for a month, she was summoned to the palace in the name of the emperor. It was safe and proper for the monarch to take his former daughter-in-law as a concubine, because anyone who had become a nun was considered to have begun life anew.
How pleased was the emperor to see his love, and how eagerly he gave the order that she be made ready for the wedding night!
Her sparkling eye and merry laughter
fascinated every beholder.
And among the powder and paint of the harem
her liveliness reigned supreme.
In the chills of spring, by Imperial mandate,
she bathed in the Hua-ching Pool.
Laving her body in the glassy wavelets
of the fountain perennially warm.
Then, when she came forth, helped by attendants.
her delicate and graceful movements
Finally gained for her gracious favor,
captivating his Majesty's heart.
Li-shan was a famous winter resort where the elegant Hua-ching palace was situated. Built by 80,000 laborers in two years, the palace was noted for bathing pools fed from hot springs. The pools were built of white jade, with cornelian lotus flowers and emerald-green jade leaves, supported by gold stalks, floating on the water. After a bath, Yu-huan was attired in the most beautiful clothes and jewels the royal palace could provide. Ming Huang bestowed upon her the title of Kwei-fei (royal concubine), and the two became man and wife.
Ming Huang was in his fifties, but he loved Kwei-fei with the zest and vigor of a young man. None of his former consorts and concubines could win a single glance from him. He began to lose interest in state affairs, staying in his chambers day and night for drinking and other worldly pleasures with his favorite:
Hair like a cloud, face like a flower,
headdress which quivered as she walked.
Amid the delights of the Hibiscus Pavilion
she passed the soft spring nights.
Spring nights, too short alas! for them,
albeit prolonged till dawn,—
From this time forth no more audiences
in the hours of early morn.
Revels and feasts in quick succession,
ever without a break.
She chosen always for the spring excursion,
chosen for the nightly carouse.
Three thousand peerless beauties adorned
the apartments of the monarch's harem.
Yet always his Majesty reserved
his attentions for her alone.
Passing her life in a "golden house",
with fair girls to wait on her.
She was daily wafted to ecstasy
on the wine fumes of the banquet-hall.
An advantage of being the emperor's favorite was the influence she could wield to obtain wealth and high position for members of her family. Yu-huan's three sisters, all beauties, were made duchesses, and a cousin became prime minister. Her parents were granted posthumous honors.
Her sisters and her brothers, one-and all,
were raised to the rank of nobles.
Alas! for the ill-omened glories
which she conferred on her family.
For thus it came about that fathers and mothers
through the length and breadth of the empire
Rejoiced no longer over the birth of sons.
but over the birth of daughters.
It had always been the Chinese belief that a son was more precious than a daughter. Girls required a handsome dowry upon marriage. Besides, "married daughters were like spilled milk"—they adopted another family's name and were seldom allowed to visit their families. Many a young wife was divorced because she didn't bear a male child.
Kwei-fei's rise opened the eyes of parents. They began to see that a beautiful daughter might do even more than a son. Fathers began to smile at midwives' announcements of "it's a girl."
The four Yang sisters were frequently in the company of the emperor at parties and games. Kwei-fei's second sister, the duchess of Kuo, was especially charming. Soon she had an affair with the emperor, though she refused to live in the palace. Day and night the parties went on. The halls were filled with laughter as Kwei-fei danced the emperor's favorite, "Rainbow Skirt and Feather Jacket," to the accompaniment of such famous musicians as Li Kwei-nien and Shen Shien-chi:
In the gorgeous palace
piercing the gray clouds above.
Divine music, borne on the breeze,
was spread around on all sides:
Of song and the dance
to the guitar and flute.
All through the live long day,
his Majesty never tired.
But the Goddess of Envy was watching to make sure that no human being became too happy. Emperor Ming Huang forgot all about his duties as the nation's ruler. The kingdom was left to the mismanagement of Prime Minister Yang Kuo-chung, a cousin of Kwei-fei. Official positions were openly on sale. People suffered from famine and disease without relief from the government. Warlords defied the orders of the administration. Troops were massed for overthrow of the emperor, who wasn't even aware of a crisis. One day when a party was in progress and the Yang sisters were doing the emperor's favorite dance.
Suddenly came the roll
of the fish-skin war drums,
Breaking rudely upon the air
of the "Rainbow Skirt and Feather Jacket".
The rebellion was led by a former general, An Loh-shan, who bore a personal grudge against Ming Huang. Before Yang Yu-huan became the emperor's concubine, she had had an affair with An. The general was of Tartar origin, strong and handsome. He had been a pleasant diversion for Yu-huan, who at the time was tired of Prince Shou Wang's weakness and impotency. The love affair lasted for several months and the pair had several rendezvous behind the prince's back. When Yu-huan attracted the attention of the emperor and became the royal concubine, she hastily dismissed her lover.
General An Loh-shan was not to be driven away so easily. He sneaked into the palace repeatedly, hoping to see his former mistress. Yu-huan was frightened. If they were found out, it would mean certain death for both of them. She arranged for An to be appointed governor of a frontier province. He left the capital reluctantly with a vow to come back for Yu-huan, even if he had to use force.
For two years there was no news of An and he was all but forgotten by Yu-huan. Reports came from the border that Governor An was enlisting troops and acquiring thousands of war-horses from the Tartars. But the news was suppressed by Prime Minister Yang Kuo-chung, who didn't want bad tidings to distract the emperor's attention from Yu-huan.
An struck suddenly with great strength and lightning swiftness. In two weeks he took more than 20 cities, almost without fighting. Then he was checked by soldiers of General Ko Shu-han less than a hundred miles from the capital city of Chang-an.
The emperor was still unaware of the crisis. However, the people of the capital began to run away. They knew what would happen to them if the barbarous Tartars reached the city.
A few days later General Ko's lines were broken and the light cavalry of An Loh-shan moved on the capital. The bad news no longer could be concealed. Emperor Ming
Huang was watching Yu-huan dance when Kao Li-shih, the eunuch, broke in to report the shocking news. It was as though the palace had been struck by a thunderbolt. The emperor ordered the people of the palace to pack and run for their lives. Accompanied by his concubines and courtiers, Ming Huang sought refuge in the southwest province of Szechuan.
Clouds of dust enveloped
the lofty gates of the capital,
A thousand war-chariots and ten thousand horses
moved towards the south-west.
Mountain roads were treacherous and the food coarse, but the emperor was happy that he and his love were safe. An Loh-shan's soldiers, drawn by the colorful and prosperous capital, had given up the chase and stayed to enjoy their loot.
Calamities had not ended for the lovers. As the caravan traveled north, the roads became rougher and food was running short. Soldiers were restive. To make things worse, Prime Minister Yang Kuo-chung didn't desist from his bullying tactics. One day he beat up a soldier over a trifle and this triggered a rebellion among the royal guards. Soldiers refused to go on and surrounded the temporary palace at Ma-wei hill.
Feathers and jewels among the throng,
onwards and then a halt.
A hundred li beyond the western gate,
leaving behind them the city walls,
The soldiers refuse to advance.
"We want Yang Kuo-chung!" "Kill the Yang sisters!" the soldiers cried. Emperor Ming Huang tried to calm them. Although still respectful to their monarch, the troops refused to budge unless they could lay hands on the Yangs, whom they considered to be the root of all the calamities they had suffered. Yang Kuo-chung was chopped to pieces before the royal eyes.
The soldiers still were not satisfied. Their cries grew to a din and their weapons glistened in the torchlight. The duchesses were dragged out and beheaded one by one. The ashen-faced Kwei-fei trembled in the arms of his Majesty, who resolved to protect his beloved with what strength and authority he had left.
A monarch in exile is less powerful than a soldier with a spear in his hand. Chen Yuan-li, commander of the guards, entered the royal chamber to explain the situation to his Majesty. If the concubine were not given up, he said, even the safety of his Majesty could not be guaranteed.
Seeing her lord threatened, Kwei-fei offered herself to appease the angry soldiers. The emperor pleaded and cried, but nothing remained to be done.
Until she of the moth-eyebrows
perished in sight of all.
On the ground lay gold ornaments
with no one to pick them up,
Kingfisher wings, golden birds.
and hairpins of costly jade.
The monarch covered his face,
powerless to save;
And as he turned to look back,
tears and blood flow mingled together.
Thus the concubine Yang Yu-huan met her death at the hands of irate soldiers. She was buried at Ma-wei hill, about 100 li (miles) north of Chang-an city in Shensi province.
The soldiers having had their revenge, the caravan moved on,
Across vast stretches of yellow sand
with whistling winds,
Across cloud-capped mountain tops
they made their way,
until they reached their faraway destination, Mount Omi in Szechuan province.
Few indeed were the travelers
who reached the heights of Mount Omi:
The bright gleam of the standards
grew fainter day by day.
Dark the Szechuan waters,
dark the Szechuan hills.
Daily and nightly his Majesty
was consumed by bitter grief.
Traveling along, the very brightness
of the moon saddened his heart,
And the sound of a bell through the evening rain
severed his viscera in twain.
Emperor Ming Huang thought only of his lost love. On rainy nights atop barren Mount Omi, listening to the copper bells on the house eaves and the sobbing of the waterfall, he seemed to hear his love whispering into his ear. On moonlit mountain paths, walking alone, he fancied his own shadow was the spirit of Kwei-fei coming to him.
Good news came from the capital. Troops loyal to the emperor, led by General Kuo Tse-yi, had massed against the rebels. After several fierce battles, An Loh-shan was defeated and routed. An was murdered by his own son, who surrendered to the royal army. The rebellion was put down.
Now for the homecoming. As the caravan hurriedly made its way back to Chang-an, it passed Kwei-fei's tomb at Ma-wei hill.
Time passed, days went by, and once again
he was there at the well-known spot.
And there he lingered on, unable
to tear himself wholly away.
But from the clods of earth
at the foot of the Ma-wei hill.
No sign of her lovely face appeared,
only the place of death.
The eyes of sovereign and minister met,
and robes were wet with tears.
Eastward they departed and hurried on
to the capital at full speed.
Once back in the palace, every building, ornament, tree and flower reminded Ming Huang of happy days that were forever gone:
There was the pool and there were the flowers,
as of old.
There was the hibiscus of the pavilion,
there were the willows of the palace.
In the hibiscus he saw her face,
in the willow he saw her eyebrows:
How in the presence of these
should tears not flow, —
In spring amid the flowers
of the peach and plum,
In autumn rains when the leaves
of the wu tung fell?
The newly restored regime was desperately in need of a strong and able ruler. Emperor Ming Huang, sunk deep in sorrow, had no mind for affairs of state. He abdicated in favor of his son, who became Emperor Su Tsung, and retired to the West Palace to live in solitude.
He soon was forgotten by former courtiers and the people. Accompanying him were a few aged guardians and eunuchs of the "Pepper Chamber" —the former concubine's bedroom, walls of which were painted with powdered pepper to ward off insects. Old palace musicians such as Li Kwei-nien and Hsieh Ah-man of the famous school of Pear Garden occasionally paid him a visit.
To the south of the western palace
were many trees.
And when their leaves covered the steps,
no one now swept them away.
The hair of the Pear-Garden musicians
was white as though with age;
The guardians of the Pepper Chamber
seemed to him no longer young.
Many sleepless nights, memories of the past happy years would come back to the old monarch.
When fireflies flit through the hall,
he sat in silent grief;
Alone, the lamp-wick burnt out,
he was still unable to sleep.
Slowly passed the watches,
for the nights were now too long,
And brightly shone the constellations,
as though dawn would never come.
Cold settled upon the duck-and-drake tiles,
and thick hoar-frost.
The kingfisher coverlet was chill.
with none to share its warmth.
Parted by life and death,
time still went on.
But never once did her spirit come back
to visit him in dreams.
Death was a strong barrier but not unpassable. The loyal eunuch Kao Li-shih, unable to bear the sorrow of his master, called for magicians to sooth the suffering monarch.
A Taoist priest of Lin-chung
of the Hung-tu school.
Was able, by his perfect art, to summon
the spirits of the dead.
Anxious to relieve the fretting mind
of his sovereign.
This magician received orders
to urge a diligent quest.
Borne on the clouds, charioted upon ether,
he rushed with the speed of lightning.
High up to heaven, low down to earth,
seeking everywhere.
Above, he searched the empyrean;
Below, the Yellow Springs.
But nowhere in these vast areas
could her place be found.
The search went on for some time, at first without result. Neither in heaven nor in hell did her spirit emerge.
At length he heard of an Isle of the Blest
away in mid-ocean.
Lying in realms of vacuity,
dimly to be descried.
Three gaily decorated buildings
rose up like rainbow clouds,
And there many gentle and beautiful Immortals
passed their days in peace.
Among them was one whose name
sounded upon lips as Eternal,
And by her snow-white skin and flower-like face
he knew that this was she.
On the Isle of the Blest there was neither grief nor anxiety. The immortals passed their lives in leisure. It was believed that once in several hundred years, one of them would pay a brief visit to the world, to taste its pleasure and bitterness, then return to the land of Everlasting Youth to tell of worldy experiences. Finally, the magician found the Goddess of the Eternal, whom he recognized as the former Yang Kwei-fei.
Knocking at the jade door
at the western gate of the golden palace,
He bade a fair waiting-maid announce him
to her mistress, fairer still.
She, hearing of this embassy
sent by the Son of Heaven,
Started up from her dreams
among the tapestry curtains.
Grasping her clothes and pushing away the pillow,
she arose in haste.
And began to adorn herself
with pearls and jewels.
Her cloud-like coiffure, disheveled.
showed that she had just risen from sleep,
And with her flowery head-dress awry.
she passed into the hall.
The sleeves of her immortal robes
were filled out by the breeze,
As once more she seemed to dance
to the "Rainbow Skirt and Feather Jacket."
The magician came forward to salute the Goddess, then conveyed the emperor's loving thoughts and remembrance of her.
Her features were fixed and calm,
though myriad tears fell,
Wetting a spray of pear-bloom.
as it were with the raindrops of spring.
Subduing her emotions, restraining her grief,
she tendered thanks to his Majesty,
Saying how since they parted
she had missed his form and voice;
And how, although their love on earth
had so soon come to an end.
The days and months among the Blest
were still of long duration.
And now she turned and gazed
towards the abode of mortals.
But couldn't discern the Imperial city
lost in the dust and haze.
"Since I left the noisy and crowded world, I have returned to live in peace here in my old residence," said the beautiful immortal. "I have tried hard to forget the happiness and sorrow I experienced in the royal palace, but not for a single moment can I drive the image of his Majesty out of my mind. Please convey my devoted affection for him and tell him that as long as our love doesn't die, some day we will meet and live together again."
"I will," replied the magician. "Now that my mission is completed and knowing that his Majesty is anxious to hear from me, I shall not stay long. Are there any articles or words that your Highness wishes me to take back as tokens of your everlasting affection for him?"
Then she took out the old keepsakes.
tokens of undying love,
A gold hairpin, an enamel brooch.
and bade the magician carry these back.
One half of the hairpin she kept.
and one half of the enamel brooch.
Breaking with her hands the yellow gold,
and dividing the enamel in two.
"Tell him," she said, "to be firm of heart,
as this gold and enamel,
And then in heaven or on earth below
we two may meet once more."
At parting, she confided to the magician
many earnest messages of love,
Among the rest recalling a pledge
mutually understood;
How on the seventh day of the seventh moon,
in the Hall of Immortality.
At midnight, when none were near,
he had whispered in her ear.
"I swear that we will ever fly
like the one-winged birds,
Or grow united like the tree
with branches which twine together."
The magician, returning to the palace on his cloud-chariot, gave the broken hairpin and enamel brooch to Emperor Ming Huang together with the message of the Goddess of the Eternal. When the monarch heard the pledge recalled by his lost love, tears flowed down his cheeks.
"That was a pledge known only to me and Kwei-fei," he said. "During the second year of our marriage, we had a feast in the Hall of Immortality to celebrate the seventh night of the seventh moon, on which the God of Cowherds had his annual reunion with his wife, the Goddess of Weaving. We sent away all the followers and stood there in each other's arms, looking up to the Milky Way where the two immortals met on the Magpie Bridge. In the silence we vowed to each other that we wanted to be husband and wife forever, like the pair of birds, each having only one wing, that must always fly together."
Ming Huang now yearned only for reunion with Kwei-fei. He refused to eat and sleep, and sat silently with closed eyes, holding the broken hairpin and brooch in his hands. Soon his spirit departed from his body to the Isle of the Blest to meet his love.
It is believed the two are still living on the Isle, or that they may dwell somewhere on earth in the guise of a devoted couple. They themselves may long have forgotten their brief interlude in the Tang palace more than a thousand years ago. Yet earthlings till read the, story with tearful eyes, deeply moved by a love that could not be destroyed.
Heaven and Earth, long-lasting as they are,
will some day pass away;
But this great love shall stretch out for ever
endless, for ever and aye.
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* English translation by Herbert A. Giles