Bizarre Beijing: The Soul of the Great Bell

Jim Nobles theBeijinger

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According to traditional Chinese belief, the seventh month of the lunar calendar is Ghost Month (鬼月 guǐ yuè), a time when the gates of heaven and hell open, allowing ghosts and spirits to visit the mortal world. This year, Ghost Month takes place from Aug 19 to Sep 16.

For a little background, check out our article about the ten no-nos you should observe during this holiday, then indulge in a spooky story courtesy of our friends at Bizarre Beijing (WeChat ID: BizarreBeijing), which they'll be sharing once a week until the gates of heaven and hell shut back up – aka Sep 16.

The Soul of the Great Bell

Nearly 500 years ago the celestially august – the Son of Heaven – Yongluo, of the illustrious Ming Dynasty, commanded the worthy official Guanyu that he should have a bell made of such size that the sound thereof might be heard for one hundred 里 lǐ. And he further ordained that the voice of the bell should be strengthened with brass, and deepened with gold, and sweetened with silver; and that the face and the great lips of it should be graven with blessed sayings from the sacred books, and that it should be suspended in the center of the imperial capital, to sound through all the many-colored ways of the city of Beijing.

Therefore the worthy Mandarin Guanyu assembled the master-molders and the renowned bell smiths of the empire, and all men of great repute and cunning in foundry work; and they measured the materials for the alloy, treated them skilfully, and prepared the molds, the fires, the instruments, and the monstrous melting-pot for fusing the metal. And they labored exceedingly, like giants – neglecting rest and sleep and the comforts of life; toiling both night and day in obedience to Guanyu, and striving in all things to do the behest of the Son of Heaven.

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But when the metal had been cast, and the earthen mold separated from the glowing casting, it was discovered that, despite their great labor and ceaseless care, the result was void of worth; for the metals had rebelled one against the other – the gold had scorned alliance with the brass, while the silver would not mingle with the molten iron. Therefore the molds had to be once more prepared, the fires rekindled, the metal remelted, and all the work tediously and toilsomely repeated. The Son of Heaven heard, and was angry, but spoke nothing.

Not the actual bell... or is it...?

A second time the bell was cast, and the result was even worse. Still, the metals obstinately refused to blend one with the other; and there was no uniformity in the bell, and the sides of it were cracked and fissured, and the lips of it were slagged and split asunder; so that all the labor had to be repeated even a third time, to the great dismay of Guanyu. And when the Son of Heaven heard these things, he was angrier than before; and sent his messenger to Guanyu with a letter, written upon lemon-colored silk, and sealed with the seal of the dragon, containing these words:

"From the Mighty Yongluo, the Sublime Taizong, the Celestial and August – whose reign is called 'Ming' – to Guanyu the Fuyin: Twice thou hast betrayed the trust we have deigned graciously to place in thee; if thou fail a third time in fulfilling our command, thy head shall be severed from thy neck. Tremble, and obey!”

Now, Guanyu had a daughter of dazzling loveliness, whose name, Ge-ai, was ever in the mouths of poets, and whose heart was even more beautiful than her face. Ge-ai loved her father with such love that she had refused a hundred worthy suitors rather than make his home desolate by her absence; and when she had seen the awful yellow missive, sealed with the dragon seal, she fainted away with fear for her father's sake. And when her senses and her strength returned to her, she could not rest or sleep for thinking of her parent's danger, until she had secretly sold some of her jewels, and with the money so obtained had hastened to an astrologer, and paid him a great price to advise her by what means her father might be saved from the peril impending over him. So the astrologer made observations of the heavens, and marked the aspect of the Silver Stream (which we call the Milky Way), and examined the signs of the Zodiac – the Huang Dao or Yellow Road – and consulted the table of the Five Xing, or Principles of the Universe, and the mystical books of the alchemists. And after a long silence, he made answer to her, saying: "Gold and brass will never meet in wedlock, silver and iron never will embrace, until the flesh of a maiden be melted in the crucible; until the blood of a virgin be mixed with the metals in their fusion." So Ge-ai returned home sorrowful at heart, but she kept secret all that she had heard and told no one what she had done.

Not the actual molten metals... or is it...?

At last, came the awful day when the third and last effort to cast the great bell was to be made; and Ge-ai, together with her waiting-woman, accompanied her father to the foundry, and they took their places upon a platform overlooking the toiling of the molders and the lava of liquefied metal. All the workmen wrought their tasks in silence; there was no sound heard but the muttering of the fires. And the muttering deepened into a roar like the roar of typhoons approaching, and the blood-red lake of metal slowly brightened like the vermilion of a sunrise, and the vermilion was transmuted into a radiant glow of gold, and the gold whitened blindingly, like the silver face of a full moon. Then the workers ceased to feed the raving flame, and all fixed their eyes upon the eyes of Guanyu, and Guanyu prepared to give the signal to cast.

But ere ever he lifted his finger, a cry caused him to turn his head; and all heard the voice of Ge-ai sounding sharply sweet as a bird's song above the great thunder of the fires, “For thy sake, O my Father!” And even as she cried, she leaped into the white flood of metal; and the lava of the furnace roared to receive her, and spattered monstrous flakes of flame to the roof, and burst over the verge of the earthen crater, and cast up a whirling fountain of many-colored fires, and subsided quakingly, with lightnings and with thunders and with mutterings.

Then the father of Ge-ai, wild with his grief, would have leaped in after her, but that strong men held him back and kept firm grasp upon him until he had fainted away and they could bear him like one dead to his home. And the serving-woman of Ge-ai, dizzy and speechless for pain, stood before the furnace, still holding in her hands a shoe, a tiny, dainty shoe, with embroidery of pearls and flowers – the shoe of her beautiful mistress that was. For she had sought to grasp Ge-ai by the foot as she leaped, but had only been able to clutch the shoe, and the pretty shoe came off in her hand, and she continued to stare at it like one gone mad.

Not the actual slippers... or are they...? They're not, these are available on eBay... haunted eBay! Muahahahaha

But in spite of all these things, the command of the Celestial and August had to be obeyed, and the work of the molders to be finished, hopeless as the result might be. Yet the glow of the metal seemed purer and whiter than before; and there was no sign of the beautiful body that had been entombed therein. So the ponderous casting was made; and lo! when the metal had become cool, it was found that the bell was beautiful to look upon, and perfect in form, and wonderful in color above all other bells. Nor was there any trace found of the body of Ge-ai; for it had been totally absorbed by the precious alloy, and blended with the well-blended brass and gold, with the intermingling of the silver and the iron. And when they sounded the bell, its tones were found to be deeper and mellower and mightier than the tones of any other bell, reaching even beyond the distance of one hundred li, like a pealing of summer thunder; and yet also like some vast voice uttering a name, a woman's name, the name of Ge-ai!

And still, between each mighty stroke, there is a long low moaning heard; and ever the moaning ends with a sound of sobbing and of complaining, as though a weeping woman should murmur, "Xie!” And still, when the people hear that great golden moan they keep silence; but when the sharp, sweet shuddering comes in the air and the sobbing of "Xie!” then, indeed, all the Chinese mothers in all the many-colored ways of Beijing whisper to their little ones: "Listen! That is Ge-ai crying for her shoe! That is Ge-ai calling for her shoe!”