When Fang Xuan-ling, a minister of the new Tang Dynasty, learned that the itinerant peasant-poet and sandal maker Chen Hsi-wei had retired to a cottage outside Chiangling, he took leave of his duties for a two-week sojourn in the city. Fang was hosted by the fawning governor and given the best suite in his handsome villa. The governor was obsequious, anxious about what Fang would think of the mean two-room cottage he had given to Hsi-wei owing only to his wife’s nagging. Fang paid the governor little attention as it was Hsi-wei he had come to see. Each morning, he ordered an elaborate meal and a jug of the best yellow wine from the governor’s kitchen. He and his two servants then rode to Hsi-wei’s cottage, three li from the city. An admirer and collector of Hsi-wei’s verses, Fang spent the afternoon questioning the poet about them, especially how they came to be written. Fang made notes and every night summarized their conversations in his journal.
Shortly after arriving one morning and after they had settled themselves in the muddy little patio Hsi-wei called his courtyard, Fang asked about one of Hsi-wei’s rare narrative poems, the one people called “We Will See.”
“A copy, said Fang, “was given to me by my friend Chou Lichen. He’s a deputy minister and a follower of Laozu. I reciprocated with copies of two of your poems, the one people call ‘Justice’ and also ‘So Much Goes on in the World’. Chou said he liked them both but that ‘We Will See’ was still his favorite.”
Hsi-wei gave a little bow. “I’m honored. It is a pleasure to know that I have any readers, let alone such exalted ones as you and Deputy Minister Chou. I hope you will thank him for me.”
“I’ll be sure to do so. And I’m certain he’ll be as interested as I am to learn how you came to write the poem that’s his favorite. I believe the form you used is called yuefu?”
Though a learned man, as Fang was uncertain on the point, Hsi-wei explained.
“It’s true that the yuefu was the form prescribed for folk tales in ancient times. But yuefu structure is rigorous, requiring strictly regular syllabic lines. My poor poem is more like gushi, also used for stories, but which is freer, more flexible.”
“And easier to write?” joked Fang.
Hsi-wei laughed. “Yes, but still demanding. A gushi should be more than a folk tale meant to entertain.”
“More a parable, then? Instructive?”
“Yes, you could say that. Parables are tools for teaching.”
Fang nodded thoughtfully and took a bite of pickled cucumber. “I think that must be why my friend is fond of your poem. He remarked that it was a fine lesson in Daoism. Yet you’ve told me you’re not a Daoist.”
“No. Not a Confucian nor a Buddhist either. But perhaps a little of each. It depends.”
“On what is needed?”
“A quiver should hold many arrows,” said Hsi-wei.
Fang smiled at the poet’s sententiousness. “Very well. I see. But now, if you please, could tell me how you came to write ‘We Will See’?”
“With pleasure, but first you must know that the story is not original. In fact, it’s an ancient tale, well known among peasants in the south. So, I’m not surprised that men like yourself and your colleague, northern nobles, wouldn’t know it. I heard a version of it when I was a boy. I remembered it years later when I visited Bi Shui Lake in Wangzhou.”
“I’ve heard of that lake, though I’ve never seen it. I’m told it is particularly beautiful with many grand summer houses and surrounded by magnificent mountains.”
“That’s so. But do you know how the lake came to be?”
“Wasn’t it always there?”
“No, my lord. Bi Shui Lake was formed three decades ago when the Shiyang was dammed to make a reservoir. The river is fed by the runoff from the Qilian Mountains. When it was dammed, two flourishing villages in the valley were drowned. They were named Beiwan and Shansha.”
Fang shrugged. “A sacrifice by some can ensure the good of all,” said Minister Fang, proving that he too could also be sententious.
Hsi-wei did not reply to this but went on with his story. “The villagers appealed to the local magistrate and then to the provincial governor. They even sent two men with a petition to the emperor. But they were turned down every time.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Fang like the official he was.
“For the peasants, the dam appeared an unmitigated disaster or so, naturally enough, they believed.”
“So not a disaster after all?”
“Not for all, no. The old people told me many stories about that time. Most of the villagers moved away, of course. But that was not always a misfortune. For instance, one elderly couple was taken in by their son-in-law. When the new taxes were declared, like most peasants, the son-in-law had to pay by working on the Grand Canal. So, the old couple helped their daughter maintain the land. They also got to love and raise their grandchildren.”
“Then things worked out for the best.”
“Except for the son-in-law. Like so many others, he never returned from the Canal.”
“Were there were other stories like that?”
“Oh, yes. I can recall a few. For instance, the only son of another displaced couple was among those who went to Hanshan to present the unsuccessful appeal to the governor. By the way, I was told that the peasants did not, as you might expect, regard this governor as a bad man. On the contrary, they granted that he was a conscientious and virtuous ruler with a keen sense of what is right. That was, in fact, the difficulty. His character made it even more difficult to change his mind. People convinced of their own virtue are the hardest to move. They cannot be flattered or bribed. Well, this stern governor was so taken with the young man’s intelligence and eloquence that he recommended him to his friend the Gongbu, the Minister of Works himself. The minister questioned the boy closely, then hired him. He rose to become the Ministry’s Chief Clerk and so was able to support his parents in comfort. I also heard about a couple with four children who decided to move to the western frontier despite the dangers. They were honest, good-natured, hard-working people. They were soon accepted by the locals and even made friends of some of the barbarians. Trusted by everyone, they started a business, importing and exporting and profiting from both.”
“So, another happy outcome.”
“Yes, but what impressed me most was what became of those peasants who lacked hospitable relatives, exceptional sons, the courage to start over, or even the means to move away. At first, they camped out miserably on the shores of the new lake, gazing forlornly into its depths for their old homes and fields. They might have perished but for a certain Chin came up with what proved a brilliant idea. They made a deal with a wealthy man one of whose businesses was harvesting timber from the thick forests on the sides of the nearby mountains. He agreed to stock the beautiful lake with fish and, when this attracted visitors, built summer villas around the lake and sold them to his wealthy acquaintances. I saw the villas. They were all attractive and well built. The peasants were paid to work on the construction and remained as carpenters, gardeners, caretakers, and servants for the rich. As for food, there was no shortage of fish.”
Fang said this abundance of fish remined him that it was time to eat. After ordering his servants to see to warming up the meal, he turned to Hsi-wei and said, “Now I understand why you recollected that folk tale and made a poem out of it.”
“Yes, my lord, and I hope your friend and colleague, Deputy Minister Chou, will not be disappointed should you tell him.”
Here is the poem Hsi-wei wrote during his visit to Lake Bi Shui, a copy of which he presented to the local peasants when he delivered the dozen pairs of straw sandals they ordered.
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About the Author
Robert Wexelblatt is a professor of humanities at Boston University’s College of General Studies. He has published seventeen collections of short stories; two books of essays; two short novels; three books of poems; stories, essays, and poems in a variety of journals, and a novel awarded the Indie Book Awards first prize for fiction.
