In literary circles in China, the most popular amusement is to make verses. Instead of shooting, or playing lawn-tennis, or croquet, or of indulging in any of the many pleasures enjoyed in Europe, our literary folk, as soon as a certain number of them have a little time to spare, meet together in turn at each other’s houses, and give themselves up to poetical tournaments. For, in China, open receptions, political meetings, and public lectures are totally unknown, and the only way that people have of indulging the fancies of the mind is in the culture of pure literature. These poetical tourneys take place all over China, but it is especially in the province of Fou-Kien that they are most common. Thus, when the late Imperial Commissioner of the arsenal of Fou-Tcheou, who was also Viceroy of Nankin, could spare a moment from his official duties, it was his habit to call in his subordinates and compose poetry with them. There are many kinds of verses, and before the opening of the contest it is decided what kind of verse is to be written. A historical or a fancy subject is set, and each of the competitors is asked to write a poem of four or eight lines on this subject. Sometimes two subjects are given, and these must be treated in parallel verses of seven syllables each, each line specially treating one or other of the two subjects. Another way is to choose two words, which must appear in a certain place in two parallel lines of poetry. I give below some examples, which will help the reader to understand these rules. As soon as all the competitors have met, a vase is passed round. This vase contains, written on bits of paper which have been rolled up into balls, words denoting certain functions connected with the tourney, such as examiner, copying-clerk, candidate, &c. Each candidate draws one of the papers, and thus it is decided who shall compete and who shall form the committee. Two examiners and four or eight clerks are chosen, according to the number of candidates. One of the examiners then takes up a book and opens it at hazard. Another names a number, say nine. The examiner then reads the ninth line of the page at which the book is open, and from this line a phrase, or sentence, or word is selected to form the subject of the composition. As soon as the subject has been decided upon, another vase is placed upon the table, to which a bell is attached. A thread hangs from the bell, and at the end of the thread is a lighted stick of incense. In about half-an-hour the incense burns out, the thread catches fire, and, as it snaps, lets fall the counterweight of the bell, which rings, and the lid of the urn falls too. It is then too late for any more poems to be entered for examination. The copying-clerks now empty the vase of the poems, which have been put into it by the competitors, and copy them out, all on one and the same piece of paper, to be submitted to the examiners. By this means anonymity is strictly protected. These make a selection, and when they have decided which of the poems is the best, one of them gets up in a kind of desk and sings forth the prize poem. Each competitor may write as many poems as he chooses on the subject that has been set, but has to pay a small fee for each entry. This money is used for the purchase of paper, brushes, ink, and the prizes which are awarded to the winners. As soon as the prizes have been awarded, a fresh competition of a different kind is commenced. The two poets, whose verses were considered the best in the previous competition, assume the functions of examiners in the second tourney, and this arrangement continues throughout. In the evening a dinner brings the fÊte to an end. I will now submit some specimens of the kind of poetry which is written at these tourneys.
MIDNIGHT.
(Eight-lined Poem.)
“The moon shines at midnight
At the top of the white wall,
Over which sway the leaves of the bamboo,
Casting their shadows on the earth;
Whilst the blinds of the windows remain dark and silent,
The fire-flys alone gleam in the scented dew.
Be careful not to walk near the pond,
For fear of awakening the amorous swans.”
THE RETURN OF THE LABOURER.
(Quatrain.)
“The mantle of palm fibres and the hat of bamboo leaves are both spotted with water.
Drops of rain, like very fine threads, fall on the plough.
It is the best season of the spring.
The peach-tree blossoms gleam at the corners of the walls, and the cuckoos are singing.”
THE BLACK PEONY AND THE WAX TAPER.
(Double Subject for Parallel Verses.)
“His nature is wealthy, so it is a matter of small import to him that he is black.
His will is bent, how long will he remain red?”
There is a double play of words here. The name of peony alludes to the modesty of its position; the peony is sufficiently beautiful not to be afflicted thereby. Red is the aristocratic colour, and, at the same time, the colour of flame. The taper may consider himself a very brilliant object; the time must soon come when its flame must be extinguished, and it will fall back again into obscurity and darkness.
Here is another:
THE DRY BAMBOOS AND THE DEATH OF THE SOVEREIGN.
“Two sticks planted in the ground as drying poles for the red sleeves.
A thousand families weep heavenwards, whilst they put on white garments.”
Dried bamboo stalks are generally used as drying-poles in China, and are set up for this purpose in every courtyard. A cross-stick holds up the sleeves of the garments that have been hung out to dry. Numerous families put on white clothes. White is the colour of mourning in China.
There is a contrast between the mourning white and the gay red of women’s garments.
Now, here is a poem of a different kind. In this the object was to place certain words in a position designated beforehand. The words given are “palace” and “battle.” They have to be placed at the end of each verse:—
“The names of old servants is familiar to the parrots of the palace.
The merits of great generals are known to the chargers in battle.”
Another, where the task was to place the words “great” and “autumn” at the beginning of the lines:—
“Great snowfall yesterday made me drink up all my wine.
Autumn rains prevent neighbours, and even the best friends, from calling upon each other.”
I have had to recur to inversion, and so have somewhat spoiled the appearance of these lines to get the words into their right places. Many people will find these pleasures of ours very simple, too simple perhaps. Whatever may be said, they are preferable to gambling. Besides, Europe, which also has her simple pleasures, will not blame us for ours.
