The Crab-Flower Club

by Cao Xueqin

  ‘The poetry club was originally my idea,’ said Tan-chun. ‘I hope you will at least allow me the pleasure of being your hostess at its first meeting.’

  ‘All right,’ said Li Wan. ‘We’ll have a meeting tomorrow and you shall entertain us.’

  ‘Why wait until tomorrow?’ said Tan-chun. ‘There’s no time like the present. You choose a title for us, Amaryllis Islander can set the rhymes, and Lotus Dweller can supervise us while we compose our poems.’

  ‘If you ask me,’ said Ying-chun, ‘I think that rather than always have the same two people to choose the titles and set the rhymes, it would be better to draw lots.’

  ‘As I was on my way here just now,’ said Li Wan, ‘I saw them carrying in two pots of white crab-blossom. It was so pretty. Couldn’t you have white crab-blossom for your subject?’

  ‘We haven’t all seen it yet,’ said Ying-chun. ‘How are they going to write poems about it if they haven’t seen it?’

  ‘We all know what white crab-blossom looks like,’ said Bao-chai. ‘I don’t see why we necessarily have to look at it in order to be able to write a poem about it. The ancients used a poetic theme as a vehicle for whatever feelings they happened to want to express at that particular moment. If they’d waited until they’d seen the objects they were supposed to be writing about, the poems would never have got written!’

  ‘Very well, then, I’ll set your rhymes,’ said Ying-chun.

  She took a book of verse off the shelf, opened it at random, and held it up for the others to see.

  ‘There you are: an octet in Regulated Verse. That’s the form.’

  She closed the book again and turned to a little maid who was leaning in the doorway looking on.

  ‘Give us a word,’ she said. ‘Any word.’

  ‘Door,’ said the girl.

  ‘That means the first line must end with “door”,’ said Ying-chun. She turned again to the girl: ‘Another one.’

  ‘Pot,’ said the girl.

  ‘Right, “pot”,’ said Ying-chun, and going over to a little nest of drawers in which rhyme-cards were kept, she pulled out one of them and asked the maid to select two cards from it at random. These turned out to be the cards for ‘not’ and ‘spot’.

  ‘Now,’ she said to the girl, ‘pick any card out of any drawer. Just one.’

  The girl pulled out another drawer and picked out the card for ‘day’.

  ‘All right,’ said Ying-chun. ‘That means that your first line must end in “door”, your second in “pot“, your fourth in “not”, your sixth in “spot”, and the rhyming couplet in the seventh and eighth lines must end in “day”.’

  Tan-chun’s maid Scribe laid out four identical sets of brushes and paper for the competitors, who all, except Dai-yu, now began, with quiet concentration, to consider what they were going to write. Dai-yu wandered around outside, playing with the bark of the paulownia trees, admiring the signs of autumn in the garden, occasionally joking with the maids, and in general not giving the slightest indication that she was engaged in the throes of composition. Ying-chun told one of the maids to light a stick of Sweet Dreams – a kind of incense which is only about three inches long and has a very thick wick so that it burns down fairly rapidly – and told the competitors that they had to complete their poems by the time the incense had burned itself out, otherwise they would be penalized.

  Tan-chun soon had a poem ready. Taking up a brush, she wrote it out and, after going over it and making a few corrections, handed it in to Ying-chun. Then she turned to Bao-chai.

  ‘How are you doing, Lady All-spice? Have you thought of a poem yet?’

  ‘Well – yes, I’ve thought of something,’ said Bao-chai, ‘but I’m not very happy about it.’

  Bao-yu, meanwhile, was pacing up and down, hands clasped behind his back, in the loggia outside. Hearing this exchange, he paused to address Dai-yu.

  ‘Do you hear that?’ he said. ‘The other two have nearly finished.’

  ‘Kindly mind your own business, would you?’ said Dai-yu.

  Bao-yu glanced inside and saw that Bao-chai was busy writing her poem down.

  ‘Lord!’ he said. ‘There’s only an inch left.’ He turned to Dai-yu again: ‘The incense has nearly burned out. What are you still squatting over there on the damp grass for?’

  Dai-yu ignored him.

  ‘Oh well,’ said Bao-yu. ‘I haven’t got time to worry about you. I’ll have to start writing my own now, whether it’s any good or not.’

  He went in then, and sat down at the table to write.

  ‘I’m going to start reading the poems now,’ said Li Wan. ‘Anyone who hasn’t handed in by the time I’ve finished reading will have to pay a fine.’

  ‘Farmer Sweet-rice may not be much good at writing poetry,’ said Bao-yu, ‘but she is jolly good at reading it. She’s a very fair critic. I’m sure we shall all be willing to accept her judgement.’

  The others nodded in agreement. Li Wan picked up Tan-chun’s draft and the others crowded round to read it with her:

  A wintry sunset gilds the vine-wreathed door

  Where stands, mossed by old rains, the flower-pot.

  Its snowy blooms, as snow impermanent,

  Are pure as pure white jade that alters not.

  O fragrant frailty, that so fears the wind!

  Most radiant whiteness! Full moon without spot!

  White flower-sprite, shake your silken wings! Away!

  And join with me to hymn the dying day!2

  All complimented Tan-chun on her poem when they had finished reading it. Then they looked at Bao-chai’s:

  Guard the sweet scent behind closed courtyard door,

  And with prompt waterings dew the mossy pot!

  The carmine hue their summer sisters wore

  These snowy autumn blossoms envy not –

  For beauty in plain whiteness best appears,

  And only in white jade is found no spot.

  Chaste, lovely flowers! Silent, they seem to pray

  To autumn’s White God at the close of day.

  Li Wan smiled.

  ‘That has the All-spice touch all right!’

  Next they looked at Bao-yu’s poem.

  White Autumn’s sister stands beside the door;

  Like summer snow her blossoms fill the pot –

  A Yang-fei rising naked from the bath,

  With a cool, chaste allure that she had not.

  The dawn wind could not dry those pearly tears

  With which night’s rain each floweret’s eye did spot.

  Pensive and grave, her blossoms gently sway,

  While a sad flute laments the dying day!1

  When they had finished reading, Bao-yu said he liked Tan-chun’s poem best of the three, but Li Wan insisted that Bao-chai’s was superior. It had ‘more character’ she said. She was about to press Dai-yu for her contribution when Dai-yu sauntered in of her own volition.

  ‘Oh! have you all finished?’

  She picked up a brush and proceeded, writing rapidly and without a pause, to set down the poem that was already completed in her mind. She wrote on the first sheet of paper that came to hand and, having finished, threw it nonchalantly across the table for the others to inspect.

  Beside the half-raised blind, the half-closed door,

  Crushed ice for earth and white jade for the pot,

  They had got no further than the first couplet, when Bao-yu broke out into praises.

  ‘Clever! How do you get these ideas?’

  Three parts of whiteness from the pear-tree stolen,

  One part from plum for scent (which pear has not) –

  All of them were impressed by this second couplet.

  ‘This is good. Original. It’s quite different from the other three.’

  Moon-maidens stitched them with white silken thread,

  And virgins’ tears the new-made flowers did spot,

  Which now, like bashful maids that no word say,

  Lean la
nguid on the breeze at close of day.

  ‘Yes, this is the best,’ they said. ‘This is the best of the four.’

  ‘For elegance and originality, yes,’ said Li Wan; ‘but for character and depth I prefer Lady All-spice’s.’

  ‘I think that’s a fair judgement,’ said Tan-chun. ‘I think River Queen’s has to take second place.’

  ‘At all events,’ said Li Wan, ‘Green Boy’s is bottom. Do you accept that judgement, Green Boy?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Bao-yu. ‘It’s a perfectly fair one. Mine is just not a good poem. But’ – he smiled hopefully – ‘I think we ought to reconsider the placing of All-spice’s and River Queen’s contributions.’

  ‘You agreed to abide by my decisions,’ said Li Wan. ‘I don’t think the rest of you have any say in the matter. If anyone questions a decision of mine in future, he will have to pay a penalty.’

  Bao-yu was obliged to let the matter drop.

  ‘I propose that our two meetings should be on the second and sixteenth of each month,’ said Li Wan. ‘On those occasions I shall be responsible for choosing the subjects and the rhymes. If any of you ever feels like having an extra meeting in between those dates, there’s nothing to stop you. In fact, there’s nothing to stop you having a meeting every day, if you feel like it. But that’s entirely up to you. On the second and sixteenth you must all come round to my place, and the meetings on those two days are my responsibility.’

  ‘We really ought to have a name for the club,’ said Bao-yu.

  ‘We don’t want anything banal,’ said Tan-chun; ‘on the other hand we don’t want anything too weird and wonderful. As we started off with a poem about white crab-blossom, why don’t we simply call ourselves “The Crab-flower Club”? That might have seemed a somewhat banal title other things being equal, but in our case it wouldn’t be because it would commemorate our founding meeting.’

  Tan-chun’s proposal was followed by general discussion. After partaking of the liquid and other refreshment which she provided, the party then broke up, some returning to their own apartments in the Garden, some going on to Grandmother Jia’s or Lady Wang’s apartments outside. Our record leaves them at this point and does not specify.

  Aroma had been present when Bao-yu received Tan-chun’s letter and had seen him rush off excitedly with Ebony as soon as he had finished reading it, but without having any idea what the cause of his excitement might be. Shortly after he left, two of the old women from the back gate arrived carrying pots of white-flowering autumn crab. Aroma asked them who the flowers were from, and when the old women had explained, showed them where she wanted them put, after which she took them into the servants’ quarters and made them sit down while she went off to Bao-yu’s room to fetch some money. She weighed out twelve penny-weights of silver and made it into a little parcel, then, taking out an additional three hundred copper cash, hurried back to the old women.

  ‘The silver is to pay the bearers with,’ she told them as she handed them the money. ‘The cash is for you to buy yourselves a drink with.’

  The old women stood up, beaming all over their faces. How kind, how very kind, they said, they couldn’t possibly take it. But as Aroma insisted, they allowed themselves to be persuaded.

  ‘Are there any boys on duty outside the gate?’ Aroma asked them.

  ‘Oh yes, there are always four there,’ said the old women, ‘to do any errands you young ladies in the Garden happen to want done outside. If there’s anything you want done, Miss, just let us know and we’ll get them to do it for you.’

  ‘It isn’t for me,’ said Aroma smiling. ‘I wouldn’t presume. It’s Master Bao. He wants someone to go to the Marquis of Zhong-jing’s place to deliver some things to Miss Shi. I thought that now you’re here I might as well ask you if you wouldn’t mind when you get back telling the boys on the gate to go out and order a cab for me. Only if they do, will you come to me for the fare, please. Don’t go bothering them in the front about it.’

  The old women departed, promising to do as she asked, while Aroma went back into the main apartment for a saucer to put some of the things on that she was planning to send to Xiang-yun. But when she looked on the dresser she found that the saucer shelf was completely empty. She glanced back to where Skybright, Ripple and Musk sat sewing together.

  ‘What happened to that white onyx saucer that used to be here?’ she asked them.

  The girls looked at each other blankly, trying to remember. After some moments, Skybright’s face broke into a smile.

  ‘I remember. I took it to Miss Tan’s with those lychees on. It’s still there.’

  ‘Whatever did you take that one for, when there are so many other things you could have used?’

  ‘Well, yes, that’s what I said. But the dark brown lychees and the white-and-browny onyx did go very well together. Even Miss Tan said how pretty they looked. She made me leave the dish there, where she could look at it. That’s why I didn’t bring it back with me. By the way, that pair of identical vases that used to be on the very top of the dresser isn’t back yet, either.’

  ‘You’ll laugh if I tell you about them,’ said Ripple. ‘You know how Master Bao never does anything by halves. Well, the other day he had a sudden rush of dutiful feelings come over him. He’d just picked a couple of sprays of cassia and was going to put them in a vase, when suddenly he said, “Oh! these are the first cassia flowers I’ve picked this year. I mustn’t keep them for my own enjoyment.” So what does he do but fetch down those two vases, put the water in them and arrange the flowers in them himself, and go along with them (someone else carrying them, of course) to Her Old Ladyship and Her Ladyship to give them each a vase. Anyway, the beauty of it was that some of the effects of this rubbed off on the person carrying the vases – which it so happens was me. When Her Old Ladyship saw the flowers, she was so delighted you just can’t imagine. “Oh, look!” she said. “What a good boy he is to me! He can’t even see a flower without thinking of his old grannie! – And people grumble at me for being too fond of him!” Well, as I expect you know, Her Old Ladyship normally doesn’t seem to have much use for me – I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about me she doesn’t seem to like – but on this occasion she gave me a hundred cash. And she called me a “poor little thing”. “Poor little thing!” she said. “She looks so sickly!” I can tell you, I never expected a piece of luck like that! I mean, a hundred cash is nothing, but the honour! – in front of all those people! Then when we got to Her Ladyship’s, Her Ladyship was with Mrs Lian and Mrs Zhao going through her chests and looking out some of the things she used to wear when she was a girl to give to someone – I don’t know who it was. Anyway, when she saw us, she left off to admire the flowers. So of course Mrs Lian has to make the most of it by putting in her pennyworth – going on about how dutiful Master Bao is and how thoughtful and how this that and the other – I can’t remember a half of what she said, there was a whole cartload of it – but whatever it was it gave Her Ladyship a lot of face, hearing him praised like that in front of everybody, and You Know Who not being able to say a word against him, so of course she was very pleased. And what do you think? She gave me two dresses! Admittedly, we get new dresses every year, so in itself being given two dresses may not seem so wonderful. But the honour!’

  ‘Pooh!’ said Skybright. ‘Silly girl! You don’t know much! Those would be two dresses that she thought weren’t good enough to give to the other person. I can’t see much honour in that!’

  ‘I don’t care,’ said Ripple. ‘It was still very kind of Her Ladyship, for all that.’

  ‘If it had been me, I shouldn’t have wanted them,’ said Skybright. ‘What? take someone else’s old left-overs? All of us here are only maids; none of us is supposed to be any higher than the rest, you know. Why should she give someone else the best and give me the left-overs? No, I’m sorry. I should have had to refuse, even if it meant offending her. I couldn’t take a thing like that lying down!’

  �
�Which of us was it that she gave those other dresses to?’ said Ripple, curious. ‘I’ve been home ill these last few days. I must have been away when it happened. Be a sport, Skyey – tell us who it was!’

  ‘Why, if I tell you, will you give those two dresses back again?’

  ‘Of course not, silly! I’d just like to know,’ said Ripple. don’t care if it was Master Bao’s little puppy-dog she gave them to, I still think Her Ladyship meant to do me a kindness, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s all that matters.’

  The other maids laughed.

  ‘You’d better watch what you say! That’s just who she did give them to: Master Bao’s little dog, Flower.’

  ‘Wicked girls!’ said ‘Flowers’ Aroma, laughing in spite of herself, ‘taking my name in vain! Whenever you’ve got a few moments to spare you are making fun of me. There’s not one of you that will come to a good end!’

  ‘Oh, it was you,’ said Ripple. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. Oh, I do apologize.’

  ‘All right, that’s enough fooling for now,’ said Aroma. ‘The question is, which of you is going to get that saucer?’

  ‘Better get the vases back too, while we’re about it,’ said Musk. ‘The one in Her Old Ladyship’s room should be safe enough, but I wouldn’t be too sure about the one at Her Ladyship’s. There are so many people in and out of that place – especially You Know Who and her lot. If they see anything from our room in there, they’re sure to find some way of breaking it accidentally-on-purpose, if they get half a chance. Her Ladyship won’t stop them. She never notices. We ought to get that one back, at least, as soon as we can.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Skybright, laying down her sewing. ‘I’ll go and get it now.’

  ‘No, I’ll go for that,’ said Ripple. ‘You go and get your saucer.’

  ‘I’m going for the vase,’ said Skybright. ‘Why should you have all the windfalls? You others have all had a go. Now it’s my turn.’

  ‘You do exaggerate,’ said Musk. ‘It’s only Ripple who’s had the luck. And it was only because of the coincidence that Her Ladyship happened to be going through her dresses when she arrived. Do you suppose she’ll be going through them again if you go there now?’