THE WINGS
OF THE PHOENIXES
A fantastic tale by Egidio Cossa
Rain had fallen all night. But now the clouds
had vanished and the limpid sky was of that indigo which announced
the coming of dawn. The smell of rain-soaked soil came in through
the windows that were screened by silk curtains adorned with shee
ideograms, mingling with the scent of sandalwood burning in large,
golden colored bronze censers having the shape of dragons.
The emperor who was still in the midst of
his agitated sleep emitted what was a feeble groan. He lay curled
up under a golden yellow satin quilt whose embroidered constellations
appeared among hundreds of tiny clouds. A huge ruby sewn onto the
cloth indicated the pole star, the centre of the universe for Chinese
cosmogony. His red sandalwood bed was decorated with dragons sculpted
in high relief in alternation with shou ideograms and was protected
by curtains of vivid yellow silk. It occupied the centre of a large
high-celinged room which was almost empty of furniture: on the walls
covered with gold colored silk appeared well-wishing ideograms from
the Chin epoch, accompanied by an antique painting of Buddha in
meditation. In a corner stood a chime clock in vermeil cloisonné,
a gift from the sovereign of a distant country to an emperor of
the previous dynasty. It chimed the hours with a sound similar to
that produced by a thousand little bells. Huge red candles lit the
room, giving off the sweet odor of incense.
The attention of hundreds of artists, who
for generations had laboured to render more sumptuous and more precious
the palaces of the Forbidden Purple City, seemed in this case to
have concentrate itself in the ceilings and on the floorings. From
above, thousands of dragons and phoenixes watched over the sleeping
emperor. These creatures carved out of golden wood danced in circles
intertwined in an inextricable design, because the union of the
two mythical animals was the guarantee of succession without contrast.
The dragons, which were symbolic of the emperor, were different
one from the other; the phoenixes, emblems of the empress, held
in their beaks large rose-tinted pearls, which were signs of purity
and nobility and of the essence of life. The stone pavement below
was covered with carpets whose silken tissue was interwoven with
gold and silver threads and whose border through the use of these
threads were decorated with clusters of the same dragons and phoenixes
of the ceiling. These carpets at the centre were dominated by the
presence of the five-clawed dragon.
The night had been a restless one. The emperor
had dreamt of being a boy once again and of autumn hunting at the
summer palace of Jehol, the imperial hunting reserve, north of Peking,
beyond the Great Wall. He had fallen from his horse while stalking
a stag along a rugged path. He had injured his knee and, unable
to move, he had remained there lying in the mud. While he was still
shaken from the fall, he had raised his gaze to the sky and had
seen his grandfathers in the midst of roaring blue flames. They
were fixing him with severe and hostile stares, with eyes that were
red and swollen from crying. His cry for help seemed to fall upon
deaf ears: his imperial forefathers seemed to be indifferent and
detached. They repulsed him with long outstretched arms that were
skeletal. Then suddenly they had vanished into a cloud of turquoise
flames.
When the emperor had forced himself into
wakefulness, the nightmare was still vivid in his mind. At first
he had not recognized the surroundings of his bedroom which was
situated in the Palace of Nutrition of the Spirit, of the Forbidden
City: the humid dawn air coming in through the windows seemed to
be exactly that of Jehol. Shivering he had pulled the quilt all
the way up to his head, and breathing heavily, he had curled up
into the fetal position. “Ten thousand years of health and
prosperity to the Son of Heaven! Has Your Majesty slept well?”
The voice of the head eunuch pompously intoning
the ritual salute filled the room with its shrillness. Slowly the
emperor pulled the quilt form over his head and looked around with
eyes that still had terror in them. A shaft of pearly light came
in through the windows situated on the east, bringing to life the
gold of the carpets and of the writings on the walls. Outside, the
thousands of rare and precious birds that occupied the garden had
already awakened to the rising sun and were filling the air with
their melodious voices. Everything suggested peace and serenity,
but the breathing of the emperor was still rattled with fear. His
crimson night robe of thin muslin was soaked with sweat. “May
Your Majesty live forever and may your descendants be as numerous
as the blossoms of the peony.”
Kneeling at the entrance the head eunuch
completed the ritual with traditional kowtows. With his forehead
touching the pavement he awaited a gesture from the Son of Heaven.
The emperor, still immobile under the quilt, tried to gain control
over his limbs and to breathe more normally; it was not becoming
for the dragon to reveal himself as being so fragile to the eyes
of a slave. Slowly he got himself together and made a move as if
to abandon his bed. At the moment with a signal from the head eunuch,
other eunuchs filed into the room. Two of them held up a heavy chamber
robe embroidered with clouds and waves. On its back the robe bore
the image of a Chee-lin, the phantasmagoric creature, half lion
half stag, symbol of the magical arts; other eunuchs brought in
imperial yellow porcelain bowls which held the emperor’s breakfast,
green tea and an otmeal soup with red beans and lotus seeds.
The emperor refused his breakfast, but he
put on the chamber robe: the warmth of the heavy silken material
helped to diminish his tension, which was still causing a stiffening
of his limbs. On naked feet he directed himself towards one of the
eastern windows. He pushed the curtains aside and looked out. The
sky, by now free of the clouds of the previous night, had the color
of peach blossoms, that pale pink which announced that the sun was
about to climb above the horizon. The night storm had stripped blossoms
from the large cotton trees and from the magnolias that surrounded
the Palace of Nutrition of the Spirit. Now these blossoms lay scattered
on the ground mixing with the peonies and with the rose petals of
a thousand shades of red that covered the ground. These signs that
the storm had left brought the nightmare back to the emperor’s
memory. But for him it was not the new born sun that would brighten
the day. He understood the meaning of the dream that had tormented
him for months: his forefathers were angry with him, because, after
two years of marriage, none of his consorts and none of his concubines,
even though he had visited them every night, had blessed him with
a son. It was his duty every night to deposit his essence in the
laps of the imperial phoenixes in order to insure the continuity
of the dynasty. This was the emperor’s main duty, and he knew
it. But not withstanding his great efforts and his dedication, the
dragon’s seed had not yet germinated.
At the age of twenty two the emperor had
married eight of the most beautiful young girls of the empire, with
ages ranging from thirteen to seventeen years, one from each of
the eight Manchu clans of the flag bearers. They had been selected
from among thousands of aspirants by a special committee presided
over by the head eunuch, not only on the basis of their beauty but
also in view of the purity of their blood and of their ascendancy,
their zodiacal sign and their astral ascendancy.
Their hands, their feet, their height, their weight and their bearing
had been attentively examined more times than one with an aim towards
perfection, and, above all towards a harmony with the characteristics
of the Son of Heaven. At the end of this extenuating selection the
emperor and the dowager empress had indicated from among the chosen
young girls the damsel who was to become the head wife and who was
to be nominated as empress. They had also established in descending
order the ranks and the titles of the other consorts.
The dowager empress had been awake from the
crack of dawn and, was now completing the elaborate dressing ceremony
in her bed room in the Palace of Compassionate Tranquility. That
morning she had chosen from among the dozens of costumes her chambermaids
had proposed to her a silk dress having nine layers of different
shades of red, embroidered with butterflies, peonies and other spring
flowers, her shiny hair was braided in the form of swallow tails
and on the black laquered spool on the crown of her head were fixed
bunches of pink tourmaline, pearls, corals, and a large bat with
open wings. This symbol of happiness and prosperity was realized
in gold, combined with the feather of a kingfisher. The shoes she
had on were of crimson silk encrusted with rubies and rose colored
pearls and mounted on high central heels made of ceramic with tiny
flowers painted on them. Her neck and her wrists were adorned with
dozens of necklaces and bracelets realized in gold and diamonds.
She had dedicated great attention in choosing her dress and her
accessories, because, that day, together with her imperial daughters-in-law
she would make a visit to the Temple of Eternal Peace to implore
the ancestors of the dynasty, beseeching them to grant numerous
offspring to her son, the sovereign of the Middle Kingdom.
The dowager empress had been the third ranking
and favourite wife of the defunct emperor. She was the daughter
of a mongol prince, and her beauty had been legendary, still now,
at the age of forty two, she was tall and thin and her oval face
which was whitened with rice powder was lit up by deep black eyes,
enhanced by double lids. She had given birth to five children, four
females and one male, the only male begotten by the emperor, who,
to show his gratitude, had promoted her to the rank of Empress of
the West, a title which from that moment on she would share with
the first ranked wife, the Empress of the East.
Now, however, anxiety was holding away over
her daily existence. In her Palace of Compassionate Tranquility,
situated to the west of that of Nutriment of the Spirit, residence
of the emperor, groups of monks coming from every confession in
China, every day were celebrating propitiatory rites in favour of
the fertility of the Son of Heaven. Their invocations were directed
towards Taoist and Buddhist Gods, towards Shaman, the Manchu god
and towards all the popular divinities of the immense empire which
spread from China to Tibet to Corea. But everything seemed to be
in vain. The dynasty was still without an heir.
Five blasts of the trumpet announced that
the procession was ready and that the palanquins of the imperial
consorts were waiting in the courtyard. The dowager empress’
litter was spacious enough to allow her to lie down as though in
a comfortable bed. Its wooden structure finished in gold was covered
with red and imperial yellow silk brocade embroidered with the shou
ideogram which was repeated nine times on each side to indicate
the potency of the yang principle. On the roof six phoenixes made
of fine gold, symbols of beauty and feminility, held in their beaks
the sphere of harmony, emblem of unity and infinity. The procession
of one hundred eunuchs, fifty women from the court and a thousand
mounted guards who formed the escort of honor of the imperial phoenixes
moved off slowly amidst the blasts of trumpets and dozens of flags,
bearers of the dynastic emblems fluttering in the cool morning air.
Heading southward, it had covered the wide avenue that flanked to
the east the palaces of the external court, the Hall of Preserving
Harmony, that of Perfect Harmony, and that of Supreme Harmony. After
passing the Meridian Gate, the procession, moving like a long golden
serpent, had left the Purple city and had reached the Temple of
the Imperial Ancestors, that had been built many centuries previously,
east of the median axis of the imperial city, because the east symbolizes
the sky and the power of the yang principle.
The Temple of the Imperial Ancestors was
the most important place of cult for the family. Here the emblems
of all the sovereigns of the dynasty were conserved and honored,
and here all the rites and sacrifices were celebrated in their memory.
It stood just outside the southern entrance of the Forbidden City
in the midst of a small shady woods populated by ancient and gigantic
trees which partially hid it from sight. A double belt of plaster
walls painted blood red enclosed a series of courts paved in stones
that bore the signs of time and humidity, from huge censers made
of gold colored bronze, that time had rendered tarnished and opaque,
odorous clouds of smoke from burning cedar and sandalwood billowed
up, only to dissolve themselves into the morning mist.
At the center of the last court, on a raised
platform of white marble stood the Palace of the Ancestors with
its façade of red and gold and its high roof of glazed porcelain
tiles, surrounded by nine bronze deers, placed there as guardians
of the imperial shadows. On the inside of the temple, an immense
dark hall with walls tapestried with gold leaf and draped with crimson
silk echoed with the sound coming from hundreds of small jade tiles
that hung from the gold chains and tinkled together when disturbed
by the wind. Along the outer walls, in deep niches done in golden
plaster stood large armoirs and lacquered wooden trunks in which
were held the emblems of the defunct emperors, their banners, their
flags, their hundreds of precious golden seals, jade onyx which
the various sovereigns had minted to commemorate the important circumstances
of their lives and all the acts of their reigns. Portraits of the
ancient emperors done in silk hung from the walls. By now the faces
of these emperors had become pale, almost colorless, as though they
were faces reflected in a fogged mirror, or as though they were
the reflections of ghosts. Only the eyes maintained their intensity,
they looked down from on high upon their descendants with impenetrable
stares. Other paintings which portrayed them in important moments
of their lives rolled around ebony and ivory sticks stood on large
marble tables that acted as altars together with imperial yellow
porcelain and vases of cloisonne gold containing the remnants of
previous offers and sacrifices.
The eunuchs who were adepts of the cult of
the imperial shadows had already predisposed prayer rugs on the
pavements of the temple and had lit incense sticks. The dowager
empress entered, followed by her imperial daughters-in-law who arranged
themselves behind her in observance of a rigorous order based on
rank; from their kneeling position they bowed, touching the ground
with their foreheads.
The monk who looked after the temple opened
a heavy manuscript where all the names of the ancestors appeared,
and, intoning pompously, began to read the names, giving descriptions
of their lives, accounting for their offspring: at the sound of
each name the imperial phoenixes made deep bows, striking the pavement
five time with their foreheads. At the end of this lengthy ritual,
offering were placed on the altar: steamed doughnuts, which was
to serve against the hunger of the ghosts of the house, bouquets
of paper flowers and bowls filled with rice, symbol of abundance
and of numerous offspring.
The ceremony was over. The imperial phoenixes
had slowly risen and were heading towards the bronze door that had
been closed after their entrance, when suddenly a woman of frightful
aspect burst into the hall. She began a dance which she accompanied
with the imitation of animal sounds. She was dressed in rags the
color of ash interlaced with strips of leather. On her head she
wore a tall cylinder hat covered with metal plates the shape of
fish scales. Tied to her wrists and ankles were hundreds of iron
bells, which rang at every movement she made, producing a deafening
sound. Her dance was disjointed, without harmony, and her convulsed
movements gave the impression that she was dancing under the effects
of some drug or other. In her hands she tightly held the head of
a pig that had just been slaughtered. And the blood flowed out,
soiling her impoverished dress as well as the prayer rugs. Amazement
and repulsion were written on the faces of the imperial ladies,
who, petrified with horror, were unable to make a move. The dowager
empress turned towards the monk as if to ask for an explanation.
“She is the most powerful shaman of the kingdom, Imperial
Mother”, whispered the eunuch monk, “Her powers are
as immense as the vastness of the heavens and her magic knows no
limits. Ask her to cast a spell in order that the dynasty may have
an heir.”
The barbarous dance seemed never to come
to an end. Now the woman was dancing in circles, rattling a large
drum trimmed with strips of leather and encrusted with sacrificial
blood; on both skins of the drum, a scene had been depicted showing
spiders and scorpions battling together. Finally, after one last
vortex, the shaman fell exhausted to the ground, her eyes in a fixed
stare, her mouth frothing and her limbs caught in a convulsed tremor.
Crawling on her knees, she approached the dowager empress.
“Imperial mother”, her voice was full of excitement
and seemed to issue from the bowels of the earth, “your son’s
essence is too potent, and his interior fire burns the soil that
he should be fecundating. His roots are not sick but too strong
and they must be separated in order for them to regenerate”.
Then she let out a long, shrill cry and lay immobile as though dead.
The dowager empress, shaken by the crudeness
of the spectacle and by the obscure prediction, left the temple,
ignoring the indignant comments of her daughters-in-law, who were
more offended than frightened by the woman’s words. On her
way back to the Forbidden City, shut inside her palanquin, she entertained
lengthy thoughts on what the shaman had said in the attempt to fathom
the meaning of the message. She had been struck and frightened by
the force transmitted by the woman, and her thoughts had wandered
back to the past to when, as a child, she had witnessed rituals
of this kind in her native land, Mongolia, and she had remembered
how many times those magician-priests had predicted the truth, inspired
by their own spirit.
Having returned to her Palace of Compassionate
Tranquility, she called for the minister of the imperial house and
ordered him to summon for the following morning all the court astrologists
for a consultation and to impose a fast upon them, for only a purified
body was able to read the signs of the stars. At dawn, when the
dowager empress entered the audience hall of her palace all the
astrologists were present, they were kneeling, dressed in long black
silk robes on which the constellations were embroidered. “Ten
thousand years of living to your majesty” they recited in
chorus, executing the nine ritual kowtows, may your fortune be as
wide as the sea and your health as solid as the mountains”.
The empress had put on for the occasion,
in sign of humility, a simple tunic of gray silk. In her hand she
clenched a black onyx rosary, as would any normal Buddhist monk.
She sat rigidly on her kang which was covered with vivid yellow
silk and large enough to be a bed placed on a platform which was
reached by seven steps at the center of the hall. Behind her stood
a large windscreen of carved gold-painted wood, whose center was
occupied by a large phoenix along with the shou ideogram which was
realized in kingfisher feathers. Four eunuchs, two on each side,
held up large peacock feather fans. At the foot of the throne lay
a large carpet of silk interwoven with silver threads and decorated
with images of phoenixes flying in the midst of multicoloured butterflies.
“I want to know the future of the Son of Heaven and why he
hasn’t yet generated an heir to the dynasty” she said
in a strong voice.
“I wait upon you for a solution to the problem”.
Sticks of wood, gold and other metals were
thrown on the pavement; water and colored sand were thrown against
the walls in the effort to obtain fantastic signs, which, once they
were interpreted, would reveal what the planets had in store. Everywhere
the blood of sacrificed animals was sprayed, and long rolls of rice
paper on which were traced all the emperor’s astral conjunctions.
The astrologists danced in circles for the entire day, intoning
psalms in antique mandarin and rolling their eyes. In the end they
announced that yes, the essence of the emperor was too potent, that
his interior fullness was excessive and was overflowing beyond measure,
destroying the gardens of the phoenixes as floods destroy harvests.
“His majesty was born on the tenth
day of the tenth moon in the year of the dragon: “there is
the explanation for his fullness”, said the representative
of the court astrologists, “in him the balance of metal, wood,
water, fire and earth is compromised by the double ten and by the
strong zodiacal sign, excessive even for the Son of Heaven. It is
necessary that the potency of his essence be diluted in order for
his seed to sprout.”
The diagnosis was clear but not otherwise
clear did the cure promise itself to be.The following day the shaman
of the imperial ancestors was sent for. “You were the first
to understand what the problem of my son was”, said the dowager
empress, “but no one is capable of telling me how to resolve
it. Go to your spirits and ask them to indicate to us how to give
an heir to the dynasty”.
Upon a signal from the witch, there entered
apprentice witches dressed only in skirts made of strips of rat
skin. Their bodies were smeared with ashes and their faces were
covered with red and black designs. They held large drums in their
hands and rattles made of fruit seeds encrusted with the blood from
hundreds of sacrifices. They arranged themselves in circles around
the shaman and began to beat on their instruments, producing a deafening
sound, producing a music that was monotonous, without any change
in tonality.
The shaman at the center of the circle whirled on an axis of her
own with vertiginous speed that grew to the ever quickening rhythm
of the drums, her arms raised above her head and her eyes shut.
Suddenly she became immobile, and then began to tremble as though
in the throes of an infernal fever. She was frothing at the mouth,
and her eyes rolled backwards were opaque, as milky as if she were
sightless. She began uttering wild rantlings, and words that were
indistinct come from her lips, mixed with a greenish slime that
smeared her body as well as the marble pavement. At the apex of
this paroxysm she fell backwards and began to rotate as though possessed
by a thousand deamons.
The dowager empress was frightened. Her fingernail covered with
lacquered gold had by then torn into the silk of throne cushions,
but this notwithstanding, she fought off her disgust for the barbarous
ritual in the hopes that it would indicate a remedy that would put
an end to her anguish. The shaman went through contortions on the
pavement like a wounded serpent while her assistants kneeling around
her covered her with a liquid the color of blood and with kaolin
powder. Then from her lips there came a frightful sound, like that
of far away thunder that announced the arrival of a summer storm,
even before the sky has darkened. The invoked spirit was making
itself heard.
“Take parts of other women and sewe them together and put
them under the bed so that his seed may be distributed among them;
thus the force of his essence will be divided and will not burn
the field that has been sowed”.
The dowager empress half closed her eyes
and a sigh passed through her lips that were the color of vermilian
red. She felt a slow letting go of the tension that had stiffened
her limbs, and the anguish that for months had clawed at her heart
was now receding like waves withdrawing from the shore. At last
she had come to grasp the meaning of the prophecy. And now she knew
what she had to do if the dynasty was to have an heir.
At dawn the following day she summoned the master weavers of the
imperial workshop and commanded them to realize a great carpet for
the emperor’s bedroom. This carpet was to be of vivid yellow
silk with its borders decorated with thousands of children intent
on playing among pumpkins and rice grains; at its center, in a field
of pomegranates the image of the five-clawed dragon, done in gold,
surrounded by dancing phoenixes, realized in silver, caressing him
with their wings. However, the wings of the phoenixes were to be
realized with the hair of the most beautiful damsels of empire.
In this way the Son of Heaven would ideally fecundate all of them
dispersing the potency of his essence that was too strong for a
single woman.
This was done.
Thirty master weavers took turns at the loom,
night and day. And when the magnificent carpet was finished, it
was placed beneath the nuptial bed in the emperor’s bedroom
in the Palace of Nutrition of the Spirit. Nine months later, on
the fifth day of the seventh moon, Hui the beautiful third ranking
consort brought a male child to light, the first of the emperor’s
fifteen children.
The dynasty was saved.
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