Stories by English Authors: The Orient (Selected by Scribners)
TextA CHINESE GIRL GRADUATE, By R. K. Douglas
Who among the three hundred million sons of Han does not know the saying:
There’s Paradise above, ‘t is true; But here below we’ve Hang and Soo?
[Hangchow and Soochow]
And though no one will deny the beauty of those far-famed cities, they cannot compare in grandeur of situation and boldness of features with many of the towns of the providence of the “Four Streams.” Foremost among the favoured spots of this part of the empire is Mienchu, which, as its name implies, is celebrated for the silky bamboos which grow in its immediate neighbourhood. These form, however, only one of the features of its loveliness. Situated at the foot of a range of mountains which rise through all the gradations from rich and abundant verdure to the region of eternal snow, it lies embosomed in groves of beech, cypress, and bamboo, through the leafy screens of which rise the upturned yellow roofs of the temples and official residences, which dot the landscape like golden islands in an emerald sea; while beyond the wall hurries, between high and rugged banks, the tributary of the Fu River, which bears to the mighty waters of the Yangtsze-Kiang the goods and passengers which seek an outlet to the eastern provinces.
The streets within the walls of the city are scenes of life and bustle, while in the suburbs stand the residences of those who can afford to live in peace and quiet, undisturbed by the clamour of the Les and Changs [i.e., the people. Le and Chang are the two commonest names in China.] of the town. There, in a situation which the Son of Heaven might envy, stands the official residence of Colonel Wen. Outwardly it has all the appearance of a grandee’s palace, and within the massive boundary-walls which surround it, the courtyards, halls, grounds, summer-houses, and pavilions are not to be exceeded in grandeur and beauty. The office which had fallen to the lot of Colonel Wen was one of the most sought after in the province, and commonly only fell to officers of distinction. Though not without fame in the field, Colonel Wen’s main claim to honour lay in the high degrees he had taken in the examinations. His literary acquirements gained him friends among the civil officers of the district, and the position he occupied was altogether one of exceptional dignity.
Unfortunately, his first wife had died, leaving only a daughter to keep her memory alive; but at the time when our story opens, his second spouse, more kind than his first, had presented him with a much-desired son. The mother of this boy was one of those bright, pretty, gay creatures who commonly gain the affections of men much older than themselves. She sang in the most faultless falsetto, she played the guitar with taste and expression, and she danced with grace and agility. What wonder, then, that when the colonel returned from his tours of inspections and parades, weary with travel and dust, he found relief and relaxation in the joyous company of Hyacinth! And was she not also the mother of his son? Next to herself, there can be no question that this young gentleman held the chief place in the colonel’s affections; while poor Jasmine, his daughter by his first venture, was left very much to her own resources. No one troubled themselves about what she did, and she was allowed, as she grew up, to follow her own pursuits and to give rein to her fancies without let or hindrance. From her earliest childhood one of her lonely amusements had been to dress as a boy, and so unchecked had the habit become that she gradually drifted into the character which she had chosen to assume. She even persuaded her father to let her go to the neighbouring boys’ school. Her mother had died before the colonel had been posted to Mienchu, and among the people of that place, who had always seen her in boy’s attire, she was regarded as an adopted son of her father. Hyacinth was only too glad to get her out of the way as much as possible, and so encouraged the idea of allowing her to learn to read and write in the company of their neighbours’ urchins.
Being bright and clever, she soon gained an intellectual lead among the boys, and her uncommon beauty, coupled with the magnetism belonging to her sex, secured for her a popularity which almost amounted to adoration. She was tall for her age, as are most young daughters of Han; and her perfectly oval face, almond-shaped eyes, willow-leaf eyebrows, small, well-shaped mouth, brilliantly white teeth, and raven-black hair, completed a face and figure which would have been noticeable anywhere. By the boys she was worshipped, and no undertaking was too difficult or too troublesome if it was to give pleasure to Tsunk’ing, or the “Young Noble,” as she was called; for to have answered to the name of Jasmine would have been to proclaim her sex at once. Even the grim old master smiled at her through his horn spectacles as she entered the school-house of a morning, and any graceful turn in her poetry or scholarly diction in her prose was sure to win for her his unsparing praise. Many an evening he invited the “young noble” to his house to read over chapters from Confucius and the poems of Le Taipoh; and years afterward, when he died, among his most cherished papers were found odes signed by Tsunk’ing, in which there was a good deal about bending willows, light, flickering bamboos, horned moons, wild geese, the sound of a flute on a rainy day, and the pleasures of wine, in strict accord with the models set forth in the “Aids to Poetry-making” which are common in the land.
If it had not been for the indifference with which she was treated in her home, the favour with which she was regarded abroad would have been most prejudicial to Jasmine; but any conceit which might have been engendered in the school-house was speedily counteracted when she got within the portals of the colonel’s domain. Coming into the presence of her father and his wife, with all the incense of kindness, affection, and, it must be confessed, flattery, with which she was surrounded by her school-fellows, fresh about her, was like stepping into a cold bath. Wholesome and invigorating the change may have been, but it was very unpleasant, and Jasmine often longed to be alone to give vent to her feelings in tears.
One deep consolation she had, however: she was a devoted student, and in the society of her books she forgot the callousness of her parents, and, living in imagination in the bygone annals of the empire, she was able to take part, as it were, in the great deeds which mark the past history of the state, and to enjoy the converse and society of the sages and poets of antiquity. When the time came that she had gained all the knowledge which the old schoolmaster could impart to her, she left the school, and formed a reading-party with two youths of her own age. These lads, by name Wei and Tu, had been her school-fellows, and were delighted at obtaining her promise to join them in their studies. So industriously were these pursued that the three friends succeeded in taking their B.A. degree at the next examination, and, encouraged by this success, determined to venture on a struggle for a still higher distinction.
Though at one in their affection for Jasmine, Tu and Wei were unlike in everything else, which probably accounted for the friendship which existed between them. Wei was the more clever of the two. He wrote poetry with ease and fluency, and his essays were marked by correctness of style and aptness of quotation. But there was a want of strength in his character. He was exceedingly vain, and was always seeking to excite admiration among his companions. This unhappy failing made him very susceptible of adverse criticism, and at the same time extremely jealous of any one who might happen to excel him in any way. Tu, on the other hand, though not so intellectually favoured, had a rough kind of originality, which always secured for his exercises a respectful attention, and made him at all times an agreeable companion. Having no exaggerated ideas of his capabilities, he never strove to appear otherwise than he was, and being quite independent of the opinions of others, he was always natural. Thus he was one who was sought out by his friends, and was best esteemed by those whose esteem was best worth having. In outward appearance the youths were as different as their characters were diverse. Wei was decidedly good-looking, but of a kind of beauty which suggested neither rest nor sincerity; while in Tu’s features, though there was less grace, the want was fully compensated for by the strength and honest firmness of his countenance.
For both these young men Jasmine had a liking, but there was no question as to which she preferred. As she herself said, “Wei is pleasant enough as a companion, but if I had to look to one of them for an act of true friendship – or as a lover,” she mentally added – “I should turn at once to Tu.” It was one of her amusements to compare the young men in her mind, and one day when so occupied Tu suddenly looked up from his book and said to her:
“What a pity it is that the gods have made us both men! If I were a woman, the object of my heart would be to be your wife, and if you were a woman, there is nothing I should like better than to be your husband.”
Jasmine blushed up to the roots of her hair at having her own thoughts thus capped, as it were; but before she could answer, Wei broke in with:
“What nonsense you talk! And why, I should like to know, should you be the only one the ‘young noble’ might choose, supposing he belonged to the other sex?”
“You are both talking nonsense,” said Jasmine, who had had time to recover her composure, “and remind me of my two old childless aunts,” she added, laughing, “who are always quarrelling about the names they would have given their children if the goddess Kwanyin had granted them any half a century ago. As a matter of act, we are three friends reading for our M.A. degrees, neither more nor less. And I will trouble you, my elder brother,” she added, turning to Tu, “to explain to me what the poet means by the expression ‘tuneful Tung’ in the line:
‘The greedy flames devour the tuneful Tung.’”
A learned disquisition by Tu on the celebrated musician who recognised the sonorous qualities of a piece of Tung timber burning in the kitchen fire effectually diverted the conversation from the inconvenient direction it had taken, and shortly afterward Jasmine took her leave.
Haunted by the thought of what had passed, she wandered on to the veranda of her archery pavilion, and while gazing half unconsciously heavenward her eyes were attracted by a hawk which flew past and alighted on a tree beyond the boundary-wall, and in front of the study she had lately left. In a restless and thoughtless mood, she took up her bow and arrow, and with unerring aim compassed the death of her victim. No sooner, however, had the hawk fallen, carrying the arrow with it, than she remembered that her name was inscribed on the shaft, and fearing lest it should be found by either Wei or Tu, she hurried round in the hope of recovering it. But she was too late. On approaching the study, she found Tu in the garden in front, examining the bird and arrow.
“Look,” he said, as he saw her coming, “what a good shot some one has made! and whoever it is, he has a due appreciation of his own skill. Listen to these lines which are scraped on the arrow:
‘Do not lightly draw your bow;
But if you must, bring down your foe.’”
Jasmine was glad enough to find that he had not discovered her name, and eagerly exchanged banter with him on the conceit of the owner of the arrow. But before she could recover it, Wei, who had heard the talking and laughter, joined them, and took the arrow out of Tu’s hand to examine it. Just at that moment a messenger came to summon Tu to his father’s presence, and he had no sooner gone than Wei exclaimed:
“But see, here is the name of the mysterious owner of the arrow, and, as I live, it is a girl’s name – Jasmine! Who, among the goddesses of heaven can Jasmine be?”
“Oh, I will take the arrow then,” said Jasmine. “It must belong to my sister. That is her name.”
“I did not know that you had a sister,” said Wei.
“Oh yes, I have,” answered Jasmine, quite forgetful of the celebrated dictum of Confucius: “Be truthful.” “She is just one year younger than I am,” she added, thinking it well to be circumstantial.
“Why have you never mentioned her?” asked Wei, with animation. “What is she like? Is she anything like you?”
“She is the very image of me.”
“What! In height and features and ways?”
“The very image, so that people have often said that if we changed clothes each might pass for the other.”
“What a good-looking girl she must be!” said Wei, laughing. “But, seriously, I have not, as you know, yet set up a household; and if your sister has not received bridal presents, I would beg to be allowed to invite her to enter my lowly habitation. What does my elder brother say to my proposal?”
“I don’t know what my sister would feel about it,” said Jasmine. “I would never answer for a girl, if I lived to be as old as the God of Longevity.”
“Will you find out for me?”
“Certainly I will. But remember, not a word must be mentioned on the subject to my father, or, in fact, to anybody, until I give you leave.”
“So long as my elder brother will undertake for me, I will promise anything,” said the delighted Wei. “I already feel as though I were nine-tenths of the way to the abode of the phenix. Take this box of precious ointment to your sister as an earnest of my intentions, and I will keep the arrow as a token from her until she demands its return. I feel inclined to express myself in verse. May I?”
“By all means,” said Jasmine, laughing.
Thus encouraged, Wei improvised as follows:
“‘T was sung of old that Lofu had no mate,
Though Che was willing; for no word was said.
At last an arrow like a herald came,
And now an honoured brother lends his aid.”
“Excellent,” said Jasmine, laughing. “With such a poetic gift as you possess, you certainly deserve a better fate than befell Lofu.”
From this day the idea of marrying Jasmine’s sister possessed the soul of Wei. But not a word did he say to Tu on the matter, for he was conscious that, as Tu was the first to pick up the arrow through which he had become acquainted with the existence of Jasmine’s sister, his friend might possibly lay a claim to her hand. To Jasmine also the subject was a most absorbing one. She felt that she was becoming most unpleasantly involved in a risky matter, and that, if the time should ever come when she should have to make an explanation, she might in honour be compelled to marry Wei – a prospect which filled her with dismay. The turn events had taken had made her analyse her feelings more than she had ever done before, and the process made her doubly conscious of the depth of her affection for Tu. “A horse,” she said to herself, “cannot carry two saddles, and a woman cannot marry more than one man.” Wise as this saw was, it did not help her out of her difficulty, and she turned to the chapter of accidents, and determined to trust to time, that old disposer of events, to settle the matter. But Wei was inclined to be impatient, and Jasmine was obliged to resort to more of those departures from truth which circumstances had forced upon this generally very upright young lady.
“I have consulted my father on the subject,” she said to the expectant Wei, “and he insists on your waiting until the autumn examination is over. He has every confidence that you will then take your M.A. degree, and your marriage will, he hopes, put the coping-stone on your happiness and honour.”
“That is all very well,” said Wei; “but autumn is a long time hence, and how do I know that your sister may not change her mind?”
“Has not your younger brother undertaken to look after your interests, and cannot you trust him to do his best on your behalf?”
“I can trust my elder brother with anything in the world. It is your sister that I am afraid of,” said Wei. “But since you will undertake for her – ”
“No, no,” said Jasmine, laughing, “I did not say that I would undertake for her. A man who answers for a woman deserves to have ‘fool’ written on his forehead.”
“Well, at all events, I will be content to leave the matter in your hands,” said Wei.
At last the time of the autumn examination drew near, and Tu and Wei made preparations for their departure to the provincial capital. They were both bitterly disappointed when Jasmine announced that she was not going up that time. This determination was the result of a conference with her father. She had pointed out to the colonel that if she passed and took her M.A. degree she might be called upon to take office at any time, and that then she would be compelled to confess her sex; and as she was by no means disposed to give up the freedom which her doublet and hose conferred upon her, it was agreed between them that she should plead illness and not go up. Her two friends, therefore, went alone, and brilliant success attended their venture. They both passed with honours, and returned to Mienchu to receive the congratulations of their friends. Jasmine’s delight was very genuine, more especially as regarded Tu, and the first evening was spent by the three students in joyous converse and in confident anticipation of the future. As Jasmine took leave of the two new M.A.‘s, Wei followed her to the outer door and whispered at parting:
“I am coming to-morrow to make my formal proposal to your sister.”
Jasmine had no time to answer, but went home full of anxious and disturbed thoughts, which were destined to take a more tragic turn than she had ever anticipated even in her most gloomy moments. The same cruel fate had also decreed that Wei’s proposal was to be suspended, like Buddha, between heaven and earth. The blow fell upon him when he was attiring himself in the garments of his new degree, in preparation for his visit. He was in the act of tying his sash and appending it to his purse and trinkets, when Jasmine burst into the young men’s study, looking deadly pale and bearing traces of acute mental distress on her usually bright and joyous countenance.
“What is the matter?” cried Tu, with almost as much agitation as was shown by Jasmine. “Tell me what has happened.”
“Oh, my father, my poor father!” sobbed Jasmine.
“What is the matter with your father? He is not dead, is he?” cried the young men in one breath.
“No, it is not so bad as that,” said Jasmine, “but a great and bitter misfortune has come upon us. As you know, some time ago my father had a quarrel with the military intendant, and that horrid man has, out of spite, brought charges against him for which he was carried off this morning to prison.”
The statement of her misery and the shame involved in it completely unnerved poor Jasmine, who, true to her inner sex, burst into tears and rocked herself to and fro in her grief. Tu and Wei, on their knees before her, tried to pour in words of consolation. With a lack of reason which might be excused under the circumstances, they vowed that her father was innocent before they knew the nature of the charges against him, and they pledged themselves to rest neither day nor night until they had rescued him from his difficulty. When, under the influence of their genuine sympathy, Jasmine recovered some composure, Tu begged her to tell him of what her father was accused.
“The villain,” said Jasmine, through her tears, “has dared to say that my father has made use of government taxes, has taken bribes for recommending men for promotion, has appropriated the soldiers’ ration-money, and has been in league with highwaymen.”
“Is it possible?” said Tu, who was rather staggered by this long catalogue of crimes. “I should not have believed that any one could have ventured to have charged your honoured father with such things, least of all the intendant, who is notoriously possessed of an itching palm. But I tell you what we can do at once. Wei and I, being M.A.‘s, have a right to call on the prefect, and it will be a real pleasure to us to exercise our new privilege for the first time in your service. We will urge him to inquire into the matter, and I cannot doubt that he will at once quash the proceedings.”
Unhappily, Tu’s hopes were not realised. The prefect was very civil, but pointed out that, since a higher court had ordered the arrest of the colonel, he was powerless to interfere in the matter. Many were the consultations held by the three friends, and much personal relief Jasmine got from the support and sympathy of the young men. One hope yet remained to her: Tu and Wei were about to go to Peking for their doctor’s degrees, and if they passed they might be able to bring such influence to bear as would secure the release of her father.
“Let not the ‘young noble’ distress himself overmuch,” said Wei to her, with some importance. “This affair will be engraven on our hearts and minds, and if we take our degrees we will use our utmost exertions to wipe away the injustice which has been done your father.”
“Unhappily,” said the more practical Tu, “it is too plain that the examining magistrates are all in league to ruin him. But let our elder brother remain quietly at home, doing all he can to collect evidence in the colonel’s favour, while we will do our best at the capital. If things turn out well with us there, our elder brother had better follow at once to assist us with his advice.”
Before the friends parted, Wei, whose own affairs were always his first consideration, took an opportunity of whispering to Jasmine, “Don’t forget your honoured sister’s promise, I beseech you. Whether we succeed or not, I shall ask for her in marriage on my return.”
“Under present circumstances, we must no longer consider the engagement,” said Jasmine, shocked at his introducing the subject at such a moment, “and the best thing that you can do is to forget all about it.”
The moment for the departure of the young men had come, and they had no time to say more. With bitter tears, the two youths took leave of the weeping Jasmine, who, as their carts disappeared in the distance, felt for the first time what it was to be alone in misery. She saw little of her stepmother in those days. That poor lady made herself so ill with unrestrained grief that she was quite incapable of rendering either help or advice. Fortunately the officials showed no disposition to proceed with the indictment, and by the judicious use of the money at her command Jasmine induced the prison authorities to make her father’s confinement as little irksome as possible. She was allowed to see him at almost any time, and on one occasion, when he was enjoying her presence as in his prosperous days he had never expected to do, he remarked:
“Since the officials are not proceeding with the business, I think my best plan will be to send a petition to Peking asking the Board of War to acquit me. But my difficulty is that I have no one whom I can send to look after the business.”
“Let me go,” said Jasmine. “When Tu and Wei were leaving, they begged me to follow them to consult as to the best means of helping you, and with them to depend on I have nothing to fear.”
“I quite believe that you are as capable of managing the matter as anybody,” said her father, admiringly; “but Peking is a long way off, and I cannot bear to think of the things which might happen to you on the road.”
“From all time,” answered Jasmine, “it has been considered the duty of a daughter to risk anything in the service of her father; and though the way is long, I shall have weapons to defend myself with against injury, and a clear conscience with which to answer any interrogatories which may be put to me. Besides, I will take our messenger, ‘The Dragon,’ and his wife with me. I will make her dress as a man – what fun it will be to see Mrs. Dragon’s portly form in trousers, and gabardine! When that transformation is made, we shall be a party of three men. So, you see, she and I will have a man to protect us, and I shall have a woman to wait upon me; and if such a gallant company cannot travel from this to Peking in safety, I’ll forswear boots and trousers and will retire into the harem for ever.”
“Well,” said her father, laughing, “if you can arrange in that way, go by all means, and the sooner you start the sooner I hope you will be back.”
Delighted at having gained the approval of her father to her scheme, Jasmine quickly made the arrangements for her journey. On the morning of the day on which she was to start, the results of the doctors’ examination at Peking reached Mienchu, and, to Jasmine’s infinite delight, she found the names of Tu and Wei among the successful candidates. Armed with this good news, she hurried to the prison. All difficulties seemed to disappear like mist before the sun as she thought of the powerful advocates she now had at Peking.
“Tu and Wei have passed,” she said, as she rushed into her father’s presence, “and now the end of our troubles is approaching.”
With impatient hope Jasmine took leave of her father, and started on her eventful journey. As evening drew on she entered the suburbs of Ch’engtu, the provincial capital, and sent “The Dragon” on to find a suitable inn for the couple of nights which she knew she would be compelled to spend in the city. “The Dragon” was successful in his search, and conducted Jasmine and his wife to a comfortable hostelry in one of the busiest parts of the town. Having refreshed herself with an excellent dinner, Jasmine was glad to rest from the fatigues and heat of the day in the cool courtyard into which her room opened. Fortune and builders had so arranged that a neighbouring house, towering above the inn, overlooked this restful spot, and one of the higher windows faced exactly the position which Jasmine had taken up. Such a fact would not, in ordinary circumstances, have troubled her in the least; but she had not been sitting long before she began to feel an extraordinary attraction toward the window. She did her best to look the other way, but she was often unconsciously impelled to glance up at the lattice. Once she fancied she saw the curtain move. Determined to verify her impression, she suddenly raised her eyes, after a prolonged contemplation of the pavement, and caught a momentary sight of a girl’s face, which as instantly disappeared, but not before Jasmine had been able to recognise that it was one of exceptional beauty.
“Now, if I were a young man,” said she to herself, “I ought to feel my heart beat at the sight of such loveliness, and it would be my bounden duty to swear that I would win the owner of it in the teeth of dragons. But as my manhood goes no deeper than my outer garments, I can afford to sit here with a quiet pulse and a whole skin.”
The next day Jasmine was busily engaged in interviewing some officials in the interest of her father, and only reached the shelter of her inn toward evening. As she passed through the courtyard she instinctively looked up at the window, and again caught a glimpse of the vision of beauty which she had seen the evening before. “If she only knew,” thought Jasmine, “that I was such a one as herself, she would be less anxious to see me, and more likely to avoid me.”
While amusing herself at the thought of the fair watcher, the inn door opened, and a waiting-woman entered carrying a small box. As she approached Jasmine she bowed low, and with bated breath thus addressed her:
“May every happiness be yours, sir. My young lady, Miss King, whose humble dwelling is the adjoining house, seeing that you are living in solitude, has sent me with this fruit and tea as a complimentary offering.”
So saying, she presented to Jasmine the box, which contained pears and a packet of scented tea.
“To what am I indebted for this honour?” replied Jasmine; “I can claim no relationship with your lady, nor have I the honour of her acquaintance.”
“My young lady says,” answered the waiting-woman, “that, among the myriads who come to this inn and the thousands who go from it, she has seen no one to equal your Excellency in form and feature. At sight of you she was confident that you came from a lofty and noble family, and having learned from your attendants that you are the son of a colonel, she ventured to send you these trifles to supplement the needy fare of this rude inn.”
“Tell me something about your young lady,” said Jasmine, in a moment of idle curiosity.
“My young lady,” said the woman, “is the daughter of Mr. King, who was a vice-president of a lower court. Her father and mother having both visited the ‘Yellow Springs’ [Hades], she is now living with an aunt, who has been blessed by the God of Wealth, and whose main object in life is to find a husband whom her niece may be willing to marry. The young gentleman, my young lady’s cousin, is one of the richest men in Ch’engtu. All the larger inns belong to him, and his profits are as boundless as the four seas. He is as anxious as his mother to find a suitable match for the young lady, and has promised that so soon as she can make a choice he will arrange the wedding.”
“I should have thought,” said Jasmine, “that, being the owner of so much wealth and beauty, the young lady would have been besieged by suitors from all parts of the empire.”
“So she is,” said the woman, “and from her window yonder she espies them, for they all put up at this inn. Hitherto she has made fun of them all, and describes their appearance and habits in the most amusing way. ‘See this one,’ says she, ‘with his bachelor cap on and his new official clothes and awkward gait, looking for all the world like a barn-door fowl dressed up as a stork; or that one, with his round shoulders, monkey-face, and crooked legs;’ and so she tells them off.”
“What does she say of me, I wonder?” said Jasmine, amused.
“Of your Excellency she says that her comparisons fail her, and that she can only hope that the Fates who guided your jewelled chariot hitherward will not tantalise her by an empty vision, but will bind your ankles to hers with the red matrimonial cords.”