He then folded the paper several times and gave it to Vesperus. "I am a thick-witted priest who knows nothing of decorum. The gatha is too drastic, I know, but I assure you it is prompted only by compassion. Keep it with you, and one day it will prove me right."
With that, he stood up as if to see Vesperus on his way. Vesperus realized he was being dismissed and felt it impossible to stay. But he respected the older man too much as an eminent priest to take an ill-mannered departure, so he bowed his head and apologized. "Your disciple is too stupid and pigheaded to accept your instruction, but he still hopes you will forgive him, master. When one day he returns, he will respectfully beseech you to take him in."
He knelt down again and bowed four times. The priest responded in like manner and then saw his visitor out of the gate, where he repeated his warnings before parting.
With this sentence the priest's debut is concluded. We shall proceed to tell of Vesperus's obsession with sex but without further mention of Lone Peak. If you wish to learn what becomes of him, you will have to keep on reading until the final chapter, in which he reappears.
CRITIQUE
Vesperus is the male lead of a play in which Lone Peak is a supporting character. If anyone else had been writing this novel, he would certainly have begun with Vesperus and brought in Lone Peak as his visitor; that is the orthodox method of fiction writing. This novel, however, begins by telling of Lone Peak in such inordinate detail as to make the reader suspect that the priest may later on behave immorally himself. To our surprise, he does nothing of the sort. Only when, engrossed in his Zen meditations, he forgets to shut the door does the true intent of the novel emerge and give the reader pause. This is a variant technique in fiction, an instance of the author's complete rejection of conventional practice. Even if another writer were to try it, he would be bound to confuse the theme and jumble the plot lines, leaving the reader unable to tell who is the main character and who the secondary. In this novel, by contrast, they are as distinct as eyes and eyebrows, so that when the reader reaches the opening of the theme, everything is clear to him.
The remarks at the end of the chapter also clarify the plot, relieving the reader of any difficulties. This author is a master of the art whose equal has never been seen outside of the author of the Shuihu. [25] There are those who say he is a younger brother of the author of the Jin Ping Mei. [26] If so, might this not be a case of the younger outshining the elder?
CHAPTER THREE
Poem:
Let us tell how Vesperus, after parting from Lone Peak, spent the entire journey grumbling to himself, "What a colossal bore! Here am I in my twenties, a bud that's just in bloom, and I'm supposed to have my head shaved and start on a course of self-denial and mortification of the flesh! I've never heard of anybody so unreasonable as this priest! My only thought in coming here was that, as a noted intellectual who had joined the Buddhist order, he was bound to hold some unusual views, and I wanted to understand some of his Zen subtleties as an aid in my own writing. What I got instead was one insult after another! The carping was bad enough, but when he gave me that cuckold's gatha, it was simply too much to bear!
"Any manly, self-respecting husband who becomes an official is going to have to govern the people of the empire. Surely he wouldn't be given any job at all if he couldn't even govern his own wife? Anyway, I'm going to take him up on this. If I don't meet any suitable girls, never mind; but if I do, I certainly won't let the opportunity slip. I'll commit a few sins of the flesh while controlling my own women's quarters as strictly as possible, and then we'll see who comes to collect my debts! Far be it from me to boast, but when a woman marries a man as handsome as I am, I doubt that she'll be attracted by any would-be seducer, let alone lose her chastity to him! By rights I ought to have torn that gatha of his into shreds and thrown it right back at him. But I shall need it to prove my point when we meet again, to stop up that wicked mouth of his. When I show it to him, we'll see whether he'll admit he was wrong." Having reached this decision, he crumpled up the poem and stuffed it in his pocket.
Arriving home, he sent servants out in all directions to notify matchmakers that he was conducting a search for the most beautiful girl in the world. Since he came from a distinguished family and was blessed with the looks of a Pan An and the literary gifts of a Cao Zhi, [29] there was no father unwilling to accept him as a son-in-law and no girl unwilling to have him as a husband. Every day following the notification brought several matchmakers to his door with marriages to propose. Humble families allowed him to go to their houses and look their daughters over from head to toe, while great families, if they were concerned about appearances, would arrange a meeting at a temple or in the countryside. Both parties knew the meeting was contrived, but they pretended it was accidental. In any case they got a good look at each other, and many were the girls who went home badly smitten. None of them, however, appealed to Vesperus in the slightest.
"It looks as if no one will meet your standards," remarked one of the matchmakers, "except Master Iron Door's daughter, Jade Scent. The problem with her is that her father is an ultraconservative who will never let anyone view his daughter, while you would insist upon it. So I'm afraid that's hopeless, too."
"Why is he called Master Iron Door?" asked Vesperus. "And how do you know she is beautiful? And if she is so beautiful, why won't he let anyone see her?"
"He's the most celebrated old schoolman in the county, and terribly eccentric. He owns lots of property but holds himself quite aloof-never had a single friend his whole life. He just sits at home immersed in his studies and won't open his door to visitors, no matter who they are. There was one very distinguished visitor who was a great admirer of his and came a long way to see him, but despite knocking at the door for ages, he got no response, let alone a welcome. All he could do was write a poem on the door, part of which ran,
When the old man noticed these lines, he said, 'Iron Door-I find that quite original, and rather apt too.' And then and there he adopted it as his sobriquet and called himself Master Iron Door.
"He has no son, just a daughter who is as fair as jade and as pretty as a flower. Matchmakers like me see thousands of girls, but none of us has ever seen one to surpass her. What's more, she's studied a lot, with her father as tutor, and she can pick up her brush and write you any kind of poem you please. But the door to her chambers is always securely guarded. She never goes to temples to burn incense or out into the street to watch processions. In fact in all her fifteen years she has never once shown her face in public. As for women visitors such as nuns and the like, it goes without saying-they couldn't get inside the house even if they grew wings.
[25] See Sidney Shapiro, trans.,
[26] See Clement Egerton, trans.,