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- The Drum Singers
5
At seven thirty the house was almost full. Seeing the crowded benches made Pao Ching happy, but he was worried as well. Something might go wrong in front. He had hired two local bouncers to guard the doors. They were experienced and knew the bad elements in town at sight. But Pao Ching did not want them to assault anyone.That would be unlucky on an opening night. Nor did he want to take charge of the front of the house himself. To get involved in an argument would be even worse. He had to be everywhere, see everything and not be seen. Yet he wanted to be on hand to settle any dispute that might crop up.
He stood backstage, watching everything. When need arose, he would pop out his shining bald head and shout a command. Then he would bow, shake hands with whoever was around, and smile disarmingly to straighten matters out.
The powder and perfume of the women singers always attracted a number of young men who could be very troublesome. Pao Ching kept shooing away these stage_door loiterers. They upset the girls too much. But here, too, was a difficulty. Some of the men might be personal friends of important people round town. If they were, he usually invited them to come backstage to take tea with him. One of them might volunteer to come on the stage and present him with a scroll to enhance his prestige. What worries a theater man could have!
By eight o'clock the house was packed — though not with paid admissions. It was full because of the number of complimentary tickets which Pao Ching had handed out. But he was delighted. A full house meant good luck. He galloped to the front and excitedly told the men at the door to put out the “Full House" sign. Then, his palms damp, he returned backstage and signaled to start the show.
The first number was a song sung by a local artist — shrill, tuneless, inexpert. The audience paid him no attention, but continued to talk and drink their tea.
Pao Ching peeped from behind the curtain. The theater was wider than it was deep. In front of the small stage were rows of wooden benches. Along the sides were many round tables, each with four or five chairs. The curtains on either side of the stage were embroidered with green leaves and bright red peonies, and bore his own name. He had had them made specially in Shanghai. The walls were hung with decorative banners and scrolls, and with pictures presented to him and Lotus Charm by famous people in various parts of the country. Although it was small, the theater looked attractive. A pair of huge gas lamps hung in front of the stage, throwing out greenish_white rays that showed the faces of the audience glaringly. Pao Ching smiled. He had done it all himself. And there was his name embroidered on every curtain and hanging. Wherever his eyes caught a picture or a scroll, he remembered a page of his personal history: in Shanghai, in Nanking and so many other cities, where he had appeared and made lifelong friends.
He stared out at the audience from behind the curtain. In the first two rows sat the local people. The rest of the audience were mostly people from “down river." Even most of the locals were people who had lived and worked in other provinces, and were now back in Chungking because of the war. They came to listen to Pao Ching just to show the others that they had traveled, and could understand him. Pao Ching looked long and hard at some people sitting in the wings. Some were amateurs who were well trained in the art and had come to see if Pao Ching and his troupe were any good. They sat with their backs to the stage. They wanted only to listen, not to look. For them the girl singers' faces had no interest. With his brow furrowed, Pao Ching watched their reaction. If his and Lotus Charm's singing came up to their standards he would have them as regular customers.
Gradually the audience became quieter and quieter. Pao Ching knew that meant the program was improving. It meant also that the audience had had enough tea and had cracked all their melon seeds. There was nothing else for them to do but to pay attention to what was happening on the stage.
Now it was Lotus Charm's turn.
Little Liu had already tuned his san_hsien instrument. Slowly he came on stage, carrying the instrument tenderly in his hand. His small, handsome face was glistening pale in the greenish gas light. His gray silk long gown fitted him like a sheath of silver. Silently he sat at the table, put down his instrument with exaggerated care, and began to pull up the sleeves of his gown. Then, he picked up the instrument, put it in position and tried it for tune with the plectrum in his fingers. He tilted his head to listen to the tone and pitch. Then he stared at one of the hanging banners, an almost disdainful expression on his face, as though he hated being merely an accompanist.
Beside the table stood the drum which Pao Ching had carried thousands of miles, and the drumstick not much longer than an ordinary chopstick. Then there was a pair of red castanets with black tassels. The cloth on the table was green silk embroidered with red and white lotus blossoms, and three big characters which read “Fang Lotus Charm."
Slowly the stage curtain began to move. “Take it easy! Take it easy! Reserve your voice!" Pao Ching advised her before she went on. The curtain rose higher and Lotus Charm walked sedately out, a lovely creature from another world, a child draped in all the glamour of show business.
For a moment she stood still, as if sizing up her audience.Then she lifted her little round face, a mischievous smile scattering along the sides of her nose.
She wore a black crepe gown with white floral patterns on the short sleeves. On her wrist glistened a tiny watch. Her two little braids, tied with red ribbons, hung in front of her shoulders. The red ribbons matched her red lips. And as she walked, she seemed to dance.
Her slim figure undulated seductively as she walked to the drum stand and took the drumstick. Twice she beat the drum and immediately Little Liu started to play his stringed instrument. Following the melody, Lotus Charm beat the drum only occasionally, sparking the rhythm in casual style. Her eyes were fixed on the center of the drum. But the smile was still there, as if she had just thought of a joke and wanted to laugh but could not.
Presently the drum and the stringed instrument stopped playing. Lotus Charm smiled a little and looked down at the audience. Then she said shyly and softly that she was going to sing a passage from “Western Chambers." Thereupon she started beating her drum energetically.
“Western Chambers" was the most difficult ballad to sing to the drum and castanets. Only three or four famed artists dared to tackle it. Everybody knew the love story of Ying Ying who sent her maid for her lover, Chang. But the long lyrics and complicated musical passages usually frightened singers away from it. It was written for the rhyme and pronunciation of colloquial Pekingese. If it was sung by a person with a nimble tongue, who could speak good Mandarin, the vocal pattern could be vivid and clear as dewdrops on a lotus leaf. But in the mouth of a less expert singer it was likely to sound terrible.
When Lotus Charm announced her number, her voice was so faint that she could hardly be heard by the well_trained amateurs sitting at the far end of the wings, their backs to the stage. But when she finished the first verse they all turned round to see who was singing this difficult number. Though her voice was not strong, her diction was flawless. She disposed of the first long phrase in one breath, rolling it out of her little throat like a string of pearls. Each word was a jewel, round, firm, iridescent. Twenty_seven words — “The sweet girl of sixteen was too tired to sit at her dressing table, for she was Chu Ying Ying lying in bed suffering from a long sickness."
From beginning to end, Lotus Charm appeared to be singing with great restraint, as if she did not care to please the audience. But whenever she came to a difficult passage, she sang it correctly. And never once did she skip a treacherous cadenza as some singers do. Gradually the tempo of her ballad became faster and faster, but she looked casual and mischievous about the whole thing, singing nonchalantly and with exquisite feeling. When she came to the final cadence, she could have raised her voice to a climactic high pitch to win the audience's applause as most professionals did, but she finished it on the ordinary note. Then she placed the stick gently on the drum,and bowed low, so low that the ends of her braids touched the drum. After that, she turned and walked slowly toward the exit. As she got nearer the exit she started to run, like a school girl delighted to be freed from class.
Not until she had pulled the curtain behind her at the exit was there a wave of applause. The people in front did not know what she was singing about. The applause came from the amateurs sitting in the wings. Even if her voice was weak they applauded her because they knew it was not easy for a girl so young to sing such an intricate ballad flawlessly.
Little Liu knew that this number Lotus Charm had chosen was most complicated, and he was glad he had come through without making a mistake. When Lotus Charm finished he gave a sigh of relief, smoothed himself and walked off stage after her.
Some of the audience stood up as if to leave. They were disappointed because Lotus Charm had sung without even giving them a glance, and worse still, she had sung something they could not understand.
Then the cloth on the table was changed again. This time it was embroidered with a stork and a deer, with two large multicolored characters: “Jeweled Lute." The audience sat down again. They might as well stay to see if Jeweled Lute was any less disappointing.
Little Liu came out first. This time he twanged the strings louder when he tuned the instrument. If all he tried to do when he was playing for Lotus Charm was not to make a mistake, it was obvious that now he wanted to show off his talent. His instrument tuned, he seemed to be waiting anxiously for Jeweled Lute to appear. His eyes were fixed on the curtain at the entrance.
And finally Jeweled Lute emerged from behind the curtain. With her head lowered she walked quickly to the drum stand, as though she was in a hurry to finish her number because she had some important matter to attend to after singing.
She was naturally tall, but tonight she had high_heeled shoes on, and her curly hair was piled high on her head, helping her to look like a tall European showgirl in Chinese costume. Her face was carefully made up, and a bright red gown sheathed her body. Her ears, fingers, and wrists were encrusted with fake diamonds she had borrowed from her mother. They shone and sparkled gaudily.
The stage is a strange world. It can make an ugly woman beautiful. Jeweled Lute was not very attractive, but art and artifice made everything about her colorful and shiny. She took on an exotic and mysterious fascination which made the audience applaud her the moment she came on stage.
What did the music matter! Her drum beats were heavy and out of rhythm, and the music was discordant. Little Liu plucked the strings of his instrument with all his might. To give more power to his finger tips he bent back a little, biting his lower lip under the strain of his efforts.
All this noise — the drum, the castanets, the stringed instrument — would have made many nauseated. But the audience sat absorbed, as though they had been appreciating this kind of noise all their lives.
Jeweled Lute was quickly aware of her success, so she concentrated on assuring herself some spare_time occupation. She fixed her eyes on one man for a while, then shifted to another. And to each she gave a sign, changing her eyes from brown to black and from black to brown. When she finished her first number, she announced she was going to “offer" a special number called “Madam Tu". That was a love story about a woman who threw her jewel case into the river when she found out her lover was going to sell her to another man to raise money. The audience was delighted. There was a huge round of applause.
Her voice was large and shrill, with croaking undertones. Because she shouted rather than sang there were no soft notes. What did it matter if her words were not clear, or if mispronounced. No one cared what she sang. The men felt her eyes and liked the glances she gave them. That was more important to Jeweled Lute than pronouncing her words.
It didn't matter whether Little Liu's accompaniment kept up with her. He held his arm well away from the imstrument and plucked the strings lustily. His heavy playing and her shouting matched each other perfectly, even when they were out of tune. The audience watched them absorbed.
After about twenty minutes of clanging pandemonium, Jeweled Lute came to the end of her ballad. She bowed her head, and wagged her face slowly from left to right, and back again. Then she straightened and walked slowly away, her hips swinging in exaggerated fashion. Thunderous applause followed her.
Pao Ching was the last on the program — the position of honor — the star.
His personal banner for the table was of red serge. It was plain except for three words “Fang Pao Ching" cut out in black satin. As the tablecloth was put on the table the doors at the back of the theater opened and the people began to stream out — who wanted to listen to a man sing after all that sex on high heels? But a few of them remained, politely bored.
The curtain went up, and the gas light was shining greenly on the shiny bald head of Pao Ching. He smiled and nodded as he walked forward across the stage to thank the audience for their applause. He was dressed in a long voluminous navy blue silk gown and black satin slippers of thousand_layer soles. He always dressed appropriately for the occasion.
With confidence he walked to the drum stand as the audience watched curiously. As to those ignorant people who had walked out on him, he did not mind at all. He had confidence in his own art. The amateurs could appreciate his singing. Why worry about the young men who had just left. After all,they only came to the theater to gape at the women players.
His drum beat was very simple, and was similar in rhythm to Lotus Charm's. But he beat more heavily, drawing deeply resonant and pleasing sounds from the heart of the drum. His eyes were fixed on the face of the drum, to select the right moment and the right spot on which to beat. The drum was his slave. His beat controlled Little Liu's accompaniment, which was now graceful and in harmony.
After his first number Pao Ching thanked the audience for their kind patronage. He apologized for anything which might have escaped his attention on this opening day. Soon, he said, the theater would be perfect for their comfort. He meant to say all this with dignity and fluency of speech, but occasionally he lost the words he had rehearsed. When he became inarticulate he just smiled, and the audience forgave him. They applauded heartily, which pleased him.
He announced his next number —“On the Long Bent Bridge," a tragic story taken from The Three Kingdoms , telling how a fighting general and his baby prince were lost in battle.
Even before he started to sing, the audience was hushed. They could sense that here was a great artist, his heart in his work. A change had come over Pao Ching. His smile was gone, his eyebrows were stiff, and his eyes concentrated on the center of the drum.
The opening words burst from his throat in magnificent cadence: “The battle raging in the faraway hills, suffering people whose blood flew red in the air ..." The audience was spell_bound — gripped in silence. No one dared to cough. Pao Ching's voice came rolling out, round and firm, each word delivered with feeling. He sang slowly to give the greatest value to every tone. Tender or brave, sober or gay, each word was handled with exquisite artistry.
Pao Ching's singing demonstrated that drum singing is the best marriage between folk literature and folk music. He acted as he sang: “Loyalty and fidelity are esteemed through the ages, life is of no importance if one doesn't die bravely." He could also be sad and tender with heart_rending effect: “Mrs. Mei had the prince in her bosom. Following the movement of the moon,she shed her tears in the bleak autumn wind." Such effects could only be obtained with the perfect blending of words and music, which was the art of the great singer.
Pao Ching dramatized the song with gestures and body movements. His drumstick was a magic wand to represent anything in the story. When he held it horizontally, it became a bright sword; when he held it vertically, it meant a shining spear; when he moved it in the air, a furious combat was taking place on the battlefield. When he stooped, it signified he had just walked out of a door in the story. A step with his foot and he had mounted the horse.
When Lotus Charm and Jeweled Lute sang,they also dramatized the story. But Lotus Charm lacked the dramatic power of Pao Ching, while Jeweled Lute overacted. Pao Ching was an expert technician. His pantomiming not only helped to give an impressive dramatic clarity to the story, but it also enhanced the value of the music.
Occasionally he gave a monstrous beat on the drum, and the stringed instrument paused. Then into the silence he would roll ten or fifteen rhyming lines, just as if he were talking. A heavy beat on the drum and the stringed instrument would come in with perfect timing.
In this number Pao Ching had told and acted out the story of the baby prince's mother who killed herself, and the gallant general who fought his way out of encirclement, carrying the baby prince in his arm. And as he sang the audience were sure that from his mouth came the thunder of horses' hoofs and the bloodthirsty cries of the soldiers.
And finally Pao Ching came to the lyrics in praise of the brave, loyal general whose name would live forever. This with tender pride and patriotism that gripped all who heard him. Then with sweeping bow he left the stage. The show was over. The applause rose to the roof and thundered.
Wiping the perspiration from his forehead, Pao Ching went out in front to thank the audience for their acclaim. There were cheers again. He could not make himself heard. “Wonderful! Wonderful! they shouted.
“Thank you, thank you," he managed, smiling. “See you tomorrow. Come again — we have many more numbers. Please come again." As he spoke, he tugged at the navy blue silk that was sticking to his back. It was soaking wet.