Hearing this, Pao-ch'ai speedily directed Ying Erh to go and look for some, and, on discovering two balls of it, she brought them over and handed them to P'ing Erh.
"Such being the case," Pao-ch'ai said, "do make, on your return, the usual inquiries for me, and I won't then need to go."
P'ing Erh turned towards Pao-ch'ai, and expressed her readiness to execute her commission, after which she betook herself home, where we will leave her without further notice.
After Hsiang Ling, for we will take up the thread of our narrative with her, completed her visits to the various inmates, she had her evening meal. Then when Pao-ch'ai and every one else went to dowager lady Chia's quarters, she came into the Hsiao Hsiang lodge. By this time Tai-yü had got considerably better. Upon hearing that Hsiang Ling had also moved into the garden, she, needless to say, was filled with delight.
"Now, that I've come in here," Hsiang Ling then smiled and said, "do please teach me, at your leisure, how to write verses. It will be a bit of good luck for me if you do."
"Since you're anxious to learn how to versify," Tai-yü answered with a smile, "you'd better acknowledge me as your tutor; for though I'm not a good hand at poetry, yet I know, after all, enough to be able to teach you."
"Of course you do!" Hsiang Ling laughingly remarked. "I'll readily treat you as my tutor. But you mustn't put yourself to any trouble!"
"Is there anything so difficult about this," Tai-yü pursued, "as to make it necessary to go in for any study? Why, it's purely and simply a matter of openings, elucidations, embellishments and conclusions. The elucidations and embellishments, which come in the centre, should form two antithetical sentences, the even tones must pair with the uneven. Empty words must correspond with full words; and full words with empty words. In the event of any out-of-the-way lines, it won't matter if the even and uneven tones, and the empty and full words do not pair."
"Strange though it may appear," smiled Hsiang Ling, "I often handle books with old poems, and read one or two stanzas, whenever I can steal the time; and some among these I find pair most skilfully, while others don't. I have also heard that the first, third and fifth lines are of no consequence; and that the second, fourth and sixth must be clearly distinguished. But I notice that there are in the poetical works of ancient writers both those which accord with the rules, as well as those whose second, fourth and sixth lines are not in compliance with any rule. Hence it is that my mind has daily been full of doubts. But after the hints you've given me, I really see that all these formulas are of no account, and that the main requirement is originality of diction."
"Yes, that's just the principle that holds good," Tai-yü answered. "But diction is, after all, a last consideration. The first and foremost thing is the choice of proper sentiments; for when the sentiments are correct, there'll even be no need to polish the diction; it's certain to be elegant. This is called versifying without letting the diction affect the sentiments."
"What I admire," Hsiang Ling proceeded with a smile; "are the lines by old Lu Fang;
"The double portière, when not raised, retains the fragrance long.
An old inkslab, with a slight hole, collects plenty of ink.
"Their language is so clear that it's charming."
"You must on no account," Tai-yü observed, "read poetry of the kind. It's because you people don't know what verses mean that you, no sooner read any shallow lines like these, than they take your fancy. But when once you get into this sort of style, it's impossible to get out of it. Mark my words! If you are in earnest about learning, I've got here Wang Mo-chieh's complete collection; so you'd better take his one hundred stanzas, written in the pentameter rule of versification, and carefully study them, until you apprehend them thoroughly. Afterwards, look over the one hundred and twenty stanzas of Lao T'u, in the heptameter rule; and next read a hundred or two hundred of the heptameter four-lined stanzas by Li Ch'ing-lieu. When you have, as a first step, digested these three authors, and made them your foundation, you can take T'ao Yuan-ming, Ying, Liu, Hsieh, Yüan, Yü, Pao and other writers and go through them once. And with those sharp and quick wits of yours, I've no doubt but that you will become a regular poet before a year's time."
"Well, in that case," Hsiang Ling smiled, after listening to her, "bring me the book, my dear miss, so that I may take it along. It will be a good thing if I can manage to read several stanzas at night."
At these words, Tai-yü bade Tzu Chüan fetch Wang Tso-ch'eng's pentameter stanzas. When brought, she handed them to Hsiang Ling. "Only peruse those marked with red circles" she said. "They've all been selected by me. Read each one of them; and should there be any you can't fathom, ask your miss about them. Or when you come across me, I can explain them to you."
Hsiang Ling took the poems and repaired back to the Heng Wu-yüan. And without worrying her mind about anything she approached the lamp and began to con stanza after stanza. Pao-ch'ai pressed her, several consecutive times, to go to bed; but as even rest was far from her thoughts, Pao-ch'ai let her, when she perceived what trouble she was taking over her task, have her own way in the matter.
Tai-yü had one day just finished combing her hair and performing her ablutions, when she espied Hsiang Ling come with smiles playing about her lips, to return her the book and to ask her to let her have T'u's poetical compositions in exchange.
"Of all these, how many stanzas can you recollect?" Tai-yü asked, smiling.
"I've read every one of those marked with a red circle," Hsiang Ling laughingly rejoined.
"Have you caught the ideas of any of them, yes or no?" Tai-yü inquired.
"Yes, I've caught some!" Hsiang Ling smiled. "But whether rightly or not I don't know. Let me tell you."
"You must really," Tai-yü laughingly remarked, "minutely solicit people's opinions if you want to make any progress. But go on and let me hear you."
"From all I can see," Hsiang Ling smiled, "the beauty of poetry lies in certain ideas, which though not quite expressible in words are, nevertheless, found, on reflection, to be absolutely correct. Some may have the semblance of being totally devoid of sense, but, on second thought, they'll truly be seen to be full of sense and feeling."
"There's a good deal of right in what you say," Tai-yü observed. "But I wonder how you arrived at this conclusion?"
"I notice in that stanza on 'the borderland,' the antithetical couplet:
"In the vast desert reigns but upright mist.
In the long river setteth the round sun.
"Consider now how ever can mist be upright? The sun is, of course, round. But the word 'upright' would seem to be devoid of common sense; and 'round' appears far too commonplace a word. But upon throwing the whole passage together, and pondering over it, one fancies having seen the scenery alluded to. Now were any one to suggest that two other characters should be substituted for these two, one would verily be hard pressed to find any other two as suitable. Besides this, there's also the couplet:
"When the sun sets, rivers and lakes are white;
When the mist falls, the heavens and earth azure.
"Both 'white' and 'azure', apparently too lack any sense; but reflection will show that these two words are absolutely necessary to bring out thoroughly the aspect of the scenery. And in conning them over, one feels just as if one had an olive, weighing several thousands of catties, in one's mouth, so much relish does one derive from them. But there's this too:
"At the ferry stays the setting sun,
O'er the mart hangs the lonesome mist.
"And how much trouble must these words 'stay,' and 'over, have caused the author in their conception! When the boats made fast, in the evening of a certain day of that year in which we came up to the capital, the banks were without a trace of human beings; and there were only just a few trees about; in the distance loomed the houses of several families engaged in preparing their evening meal, and the mist was, in fact, azure like jade, and connected like clouds. So, when I, as it happened, read this couplet
last night, it actually seemed to me as if I had come again to that spot!"
But in the course of their colloquy, Pao-yü and T'an Ch'un arrived; and entering the room, they seated themselves, and lent an ear to her arguments on the verses.
"Seeing that you know so much," Pao-yü remarked with a smiling face, "you can dispense with reading poetical works, for you're not far off from proficiency. To hear you expatiate on these two lines, makes it evident to my mind that you've even got at their secret meaning."
"You say," argued Tai-yü with a significant smile, "that the line:
"'O'er (the mart) hangs the lonesome mist,'
"is good; but aren't you yet aware that this is only plagiarised from an ancient writer? But I'll show you the line I'm telling you of. You'll find it far plainer and clearer than this."
While uttering these words, she turned up T'ao Yüan-ming's,
Dim in the distance lies a country place;
Faint in the hamlet-market hangs the mist;
and handed it to Hsiang Ling.
Hsiang Ling perused it, and, nodding her head, she eulogised it. "Really," she smiled, the word 'over' is educed from the two characters implying 'faint.'
Pao-yü burst out into a loud fit of exultant laughter. "You've already got it!" he cried. "There's no need of explaining anything more to you! Any further explanations will, in lieu of benefiting you, make you unlearn what you've learnt. Were you therefore to, at once, set to work, and versify, your lines are bound to be good."
"To-morrow," observed T'an ch'un with a smile; "I'll stand an extra treat and invite you to join the society."
"Why make a fool of me, miss?" Hsiang Ling laughingly ejaculated. "It's merely that mania of mine that made me apply my mind to this subject at all; just for fun and no other reason."
T'an Ch'un and Tai-yü both smiled. "Who doesn't go in for these things for fun?" they asked. "Is it likely that we improvise verses in real earnest? Why, if any one treated our verses as genuine verses, and took them outside this garden, people would have such a hearty laugh at our expense that their very teeth would drop."
"This is again self-violence and self-abasement!" Pao-yü interposed. The other day, I was outside the garden, consulting with the gentlemen about paintings, and, when they came to hear that we had started a poetical society, they begged of me to let them have the rough copies to read. So I wrote out several stanzas, and gave them to them to look over, and who did not praise them with all sincerity? They even copied them and took them to have the blocks cut."
"Are you speaking the truth?" T'an Ch'un and Tai-yü eagerly inquired.
"If I'm telling a lie," Pao-yü laughed, "I'm like that cockatoo on that frame!"
"You verily do foolish things!" Tai-yü and T'an Ch'un exclaimed with one voice, at these words. "But not to mention that they were doggerel lines, had they even been anything like what verses should be, our writings shouldn't have been hawked about outside."
"What's there to fear?" Pao-yü smiled. "Hadn't the writings of women of old been handed outside the limits of the inner chambers, why, there would, at present, be no one with any idea of their very existence."
While he passed this remark, they saw Ju Hua arrive from Hsi Ch'un's quarters to ask Pao-yü to go over; and Pao-yü eventually took his departure.
Hsiang Ling then pressed (Tai-yü) to give her T'u's poems. "Do choose some theme," she also asked Tai-yü and T'an Ch'un, "and let me go and write on it. When I've done, I'll bring it for you to correct."
"Last night," Tai-yü observed, "the moon was so magnificent, that I meant to improvise a stanza on it; but as I haven't done yet, go at once and write one using the fourteenth rhyme, 'han,' (cool). You're at liberty to make use of whatever words you fancy."
Hearing this, Hsiang Ling was simply delighted, and taking the poems, she went back. After considerable exertion, she succeeded in devising a couplet, but so little able was she to tear herself away from the 'T'u' poems, that she perused another couple of stanzas, until she had no inclination for either tea or food, and she felt in an unsettled mood, try though she did to sit or recline.
"Why," Pao-ch'ai remonstrated, "do you bring such trouble upon yourself? It's that P'in Erh, who has led you on to it! But I'll settle accounts with her! You've all along been a thick-headed fool; but now that you've burdened yourself with all this, you've become a greater fool."
"Miss," smiled Hsiang Ling, "don't confuse me."
So saying, she set to work and put together a stanza, which she first and foremost handed to Pao-ch'ai to look over.
"This isn't good!" Pao-ch'ai smilingly said. "This isn't the way to do it! Don't fear of losing face, but take it and give it to her to peruse. We'll see what she says."
At this suggestion, Hsiang Ling forthwith went with her verses in search of Tai-yü. When Tai-yü came to read them, she found their text to be:
The night grows cool, what time Selene reacheth the mid-heavens.
Her radiance pure shineth around with such a spotless sheen.
Bards oft for inspiration raise on her their thoughts and eyes.
The rustic daren't see her, so fears he to enhance his grief.
Jade mirrors are suspended near the tower of malachite.
An icelike plate dangles outside the gem-laden portière.
The eve is fine, so why need any silvery candles burn?
A clear light shines with dazzling lustre on the painted rails.
"There's a good deal of spirit in them," Tai-yü smiled, "but the language is not elegant. It's because you've only read a few poetical works that you labour under restraint. Now put this stanza aside and write another. Pluck up your courage and go and work away."
After listening to her advice, Hsiang Ling quietly wended her way back, but so much the more (preoccupied) was she in her mind that she did not even enter the house, but remaining under the trees, planted by the side of the pond, she either seated herself on a rock and plunged in a reverie, or squatted down and dug the ground, to the astonishment of all those, who went backwards and forwards. Li wan, Pao-ch'ai, T'an Ch'un, Pao-yü and some others heard about her; and, taking their position some way off on the mound, they watched her, much amused. At one time, they saw her pucker up her eyebrows; and at another smile to herself.
"That girl must certainly be cracked!" Pao-ch'ai laughed. "Last night she kept on muttering away straight up to the fifth watch, when she at last turned in. But shortly, daylight broke, and I heard her get up and comb her hair, all in a hurry, and rush after P'in Erh. In a while, however, she returned; and, after acting like an idiot the whole day, she managed to put together a stanza. But it wasn't after all, good, so she's, of course, now trying to devise another."
"This indeed shows," Pao-yü laughingly remarked, "that the earth is spiritual, that man is intelligent, and that heaven does not in the creation of human beings bestow on them natural gifts to no purpose. We've been sighing and lamenting that it was a pity that such a one as she, should, really, be so unpolished; but who could ever have anticipated that things would, in the long run, reach the present pass? This is a clear sign that heaven and earth are most equitable!"