Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society Hong Kong Branch
RASHKB and author
Vol. 1 (1961)
ISSN 1991-7295
37
and well versed in history and literature. So Hsieh made her his private secretary. At that time, the military governors were practically independent war-lords paying only nominal homage to the crown. A rival governor, T'ien Ch'eng-ssu, was increasing his armed forces and planning to annex Lu-chou. Seeing that Hsüeh was worried about this, Hung Hsien offered to go to the rival governor's city one night to investigate. Brushing aside Hsüeh's misgivings, she pushed her hair back to form a bun, put on a short embroidered jacket and black silk shoes, carried a dagger, and wrote a magic spell on her forehead. In a moment she was gone. Hsüeh waited for her alone, and after a dozen cups of wine, it was already daybreak. Suddenly he heard something falling lightly like a leaf on the ground outside. It was Hung Hsien coming back. She had travelled several hundred miles and gone to the rival governor's headquarters, and, without disturbing the armed guards or waking up the governor, had taken from his bed-side a gold case containing his horoscope. Next morning, Hsieh sent the gold case back to his rival, with a letter saying, “Last night a visitor came and brought this from your bed-side. I dare not keep it and am returning it herewith." On receiving this, the rival governor, T'ien, was petrified. He sent Hsüeh rich gifts and a humble letter of apology, saying that he had no aggressive intentions and that he was going to cut down his forces. All was peace and quiet. Two months later, Hung Hsien asked permission to leave. Hsüeh was naturally reluctant to let her go, whereupon she said, "In my previous incarnation I was a man and a physician, who, by mistake, caused the death of a pregnant woman conceiving twins. As a punishment, I was re-born as a girl and became a serving maid. Now that I have repaid your kindness, I must go." Hsieh realized it was no use trying to keep her, so he held a great farewell banquet in her honour. After a tearful goodbye, she disappeared and was never seen again.11
The above story is written in elegant classical prose. At the same time, chivalric tales also existed in the popular colloquial literature of T'ang times. Among the manuscripts discovered at Tun-huang at the end of the last century are many tales known as pien-wen (#), which may be translated as "popularized texts".15 These are for the most part Buddhist legends re-told in a semi-colloquial style, often in a mixture of prose and verse. However, some of them are not of a religious character. Among these is
14 T'ai-p'ing kuang-chi ***, chüan 195. For a full translation of the story, see E. D. Edwards, Chinese prose literature of the T'ang period, vol. II (London, 1938), pp. 123-7.
15 For further information, see Arthur Waley, Ballads and stories from Tun-huang (London, 1960).
1
Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society Hong Kong Branch
RASHKB and author
Vol. 1 (1961)
ISSN 1991-7295
37
and well versed in history and literature. So Hsieh made her his private secretary. At that time, the military governors were practically independent war-lords paying only nominal homage to the crown. A rival governor, T'ien Ch'eng-ssu, was increasing his armed forces and planning to annex Lu-chou. Seeing that Hsüeh was worried about this, Hung Hsien offered to go to the rival governor's city one night to investigate. Brushing aside Hsüch's misgivings, she pushed her hair back to form a bun, put on a short embroidered jacket and black silk shoes, carried a dagger, and wrote a magic spell on her forehead. In a moment she was gone. Hsueh waited for her alone, and after a dozen cups of wine, it was already daybreak. Suddenly he heard some- thing falling lightly like a leaf on the ground outside. It was Hung Hsien coming back. She had travelled several hundred miles and gone to the rival governor's headquarters, and, without disturbing the armed guards or waking up the governor, had taken from his bed-side a gold case containing his horoscope. Next morning, Hsieh sent the gold case back to his rival, with a letter saying, “Last night a visitor came and brought this from your bed-side. I dare not keep it and am returning it herewith." On receiving this, the rival governor, T'ien, was petrified. He sent Hsüeh rich gifts and a humble letter of apology, saying that he had no aggressive intentions and that he was going to cut down his forces. All was peace and quiet. Two months later, Hung Hsien asked permission to leave. Hsüeh was naturally reluctant to let her go, whereupon she said, "In my previous incarnation I was a man and a physician, who, by mistake, caused the death of a pregnant woman conceiving twins. As a punishment, I was re-born as a girl and became a serving maid. Now that I have repaid your kindness, I must go." Hsieh realized it was no use trying to keep her, so he held a great farewell banquet in her honour. After a tearful goodbye, she disappeared and was never seen again.11
The above story is written in elegant classical prose. At the same time, chivalric tales also existed in the popular colloquia! literature of T'ang times. Among the manuscripts discovered at Tun-huang at the end of the last century are many tales known as pien-wen (#), which may be translated as "popularized texts".15 These are for the most part Buddhist legends re-told in a semi- colloquial style, often in a mixture of prose and verse. However, some of them are not of a religious character. Among these is
14 T'ai-p'ing kuang-chi ***, chilan 195. For a full translation of the story, see E. D. Edwards, Chinese prose literature of the T'ang period, vol. II (London, 1938), pp. 123-7.
15 For further information, see Arthur Waley, Ballads and stories from Tun-huang (London, 1960).
1
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