Marco Polo’s City of Heaven

When the famous Marco Polo entered Hangzhou, it was a different place—not just different from where he had been, different from what it once was. Thirty years previous, the child emperor of the Southern Song was smuggled out in the night as Hangzhou fell to the Mongol hordes of Kublai Khan. Whether or not he was aware of the complexities of the generation-long battle of the Khan against the remnants of the Song is up for debate, but he did indeed enjoy the beauty of what remained: “The king who fled (the Song child emperor) [had] the greatest palace in the world...It is all painted in gold, with many histories and representations of beasts and birds, of knights and dames, and many marvelous things. It forms a really magnificent spectacle, for over all the walls and all the ceiling you see nothing but paintings in gold.” Referred to as Kinsay in the Travels of Marco Polo, Marco Polo said, “Inside the city there is a Lake which has a compass of some 30 miles and all round it are erected beautiful palaces and mansions, of the richest and most exquisite structure that you can imagine, belonging to the nobles of the city.” Of the people, he called the “men and women fair and comely”, remarking on the bridges, sugar, and silk of this Asian land of plenty. It is in Coleridge that Kublai Khan is remembered most vividly in the West, but to hear Marco Polo tell it, Hangzhou was the home of what remained of imperial Chinese gentility, a bedrock of civility and pleasure, expressing a sentiment held by many of Hangzhou’s visitors: “Hence it comes to pass that when they return home they say they have been to Kinsay or the City of Heaven, and their only desire is to get back thither as soon as possible.”

Polo and Prosperity

Now, it must be said of Marco Polo that he is far from a trusted source—omitting as he does large swathes of both history and landmarks (the Great Wall not even the least of these) in his travels, and claiming at one point that Hangzhou had pears in excess of ten pounds. His Venetian cultural filter is also on full view: “You must know they eat every kind of flesh, even that of dogs and other unclean beasts, which nothing would induce a Christian to eat.” In the end, however, this wasn’t a vacation; Marco Polo was sent by the Great Khan to inspect the revenue brought in by the territories south of the Yellow River. The salt alone caused the Venetian traveler to gush: “[Salt makes] fourscore tomans of gold...In sooth, a vast sum of money!” He also remarked that the whole of the rest of the territories he visited did not grow as much sugar, speaking of the various items that came through that great port of industry and trade with glowing alacrity—of the rice wine, the Indian traders, the tradesmen, the silk. The business Marco Polo saw in the late 12th century might be something entrepreneurs from overseas today might want to keep in mind: “They also treat the foreigners who visit them for the sake of trade with great cordiality, and entertain them in the most winning manner, affording them every help and advice on their business.”

The Civilized Song

It was with the people of Kinsay that Marco Polo was so impressed. To him, this City of Heaven seemed like the most genteel place he had yet visited in his travels in the Khan’s kingdom. Of the nature of the men of Hangzhou, he said, “The natives of the city are men of peaceful character, both from education and from the example of their kings...They know nothing of handling arms, and keep none in their houses. You hear of no feuds or noisy quarrels or dissensions of any kind among them.” The women, to him, seemed some of the most elegant in the world, adorned in silks and fine perfumes—and that certain women, “are extremely accomplished in all the arts of allurement...insomuch that strangers who have once tasted their attractions seem to get bewitched, and are so taken with their blandishments and their fascinating ways that they never can get these out of their heads.” Hangzhou was of immense symbolic, strategic, and economic importance to the region of China and to the rising Yuan Dynasty. As for the people: “They are thoroughly honest and truthful, and there is such a degree of good will and neighborly attachment among both men and women that you would take the people who live in the same street to be all one family.”

It’s a legend of love and learning—the “Butterfly Lovers”, or “Liang Zhu” (梁祝), one of the most well known romantic folk legends of China. Having been passed down for almost 1,700 years across different regions of China, the story has been morphed into countless movies, plays, operas, and even a concerto. Hangzhou played a special role: it’s the place where the couple in the story fell in love.

The story begins with the wealthy daughter, Zhu Yingtai (祝英台), gaining entry to a famous academy—a domain dominated by men. In the case of the Ming Dynasty version, this was the Wansong Academy (万松书院), founded in 1498 in southeastern Hangzhou at Phoenix Hill.

In order to buck the system, Zhu disguises herself as a boy—perhaps more reminiscent of one of Shakespeare’s comedies rather than “Romeo and Juliet” to which the “Butterfly Lovers” is so often compared—and meets another student, Liang Shanbo (梁山伯). The two become fast friends and over the course of three years of study, Zhu secretly falls in love with Liang. Liang plays the part of an aloof and nerdy character, blind to Zhu’s secret longings, and, of course, her feminine features. The story intensifies when Zhu is suddenly recalled home.

It is said that the two friends couldn’t bear to part from each other, so they traveled together for 18 li (9 kilometers) before saying farewell. The Hangzhou version states that the pair crossed the same bridge on West Lake back and forth 18 times, giving the name “Long Bridge” or 长桥 to the bridge now found on the south of the lake. Ever the coy, love-struck student, Zhu hints constantly during this journey that she loves Liang. She even promises to match Liang with her “sister” for marriage. Months pass and eventually Liang pays a visit to Zhu’s hometown where it is finally made clear that she is a woman; the two fall madly in love, pledging themselves to one another. But, their love was not to be, as Zhu finds she is to be married off to a rich playboy. The news crushes Liang and his health begins to wane—eventually leading to his tragic death.

But, where the flesh was weak, the heavens were strong. On the day of Zhu’s wedding, a strong wind stops her marriage procession from passing where Liang is buried. She steps out of the sedan to pay her respects. There, the ground opens and she plunges herself into it to join Liang in his grave. The ground closes and two butterflies emerge as their spirits, fluttering in the wind, never again to be parted.

While this story’s lore and literature precede the Ming Dynasty, the grounds of Wansong Academy are closely associated with the “Butterfly Lovers”. The renovated academy today at Phoenix Hill in the southeastern quadrant of West Lake pays homage to the original founded in 1498—one of the top four in all of China for nearly 500 years. Originally equipped with a full library, scientific instruments, and a school of management, the school was visited by Qing Dynasty emperors Kangxi and Qianlong, both of whom left inscriptions there, a boon to the institution’s reputation. Although it declined in the early 20th century, the buildings have been fully restored to their former Ming glory.

Apart from scholarly halls and elegant lacquered desks, the academy has been landscaped with bamboo, trees, flowers, and rockery—decorated throughout with stone tables and wood-carvings. And, to some extent, the legend of the “Butterfly Lovers” has a fitting memorial here; April hosts floral festivals and May sees a matchmaking event at the campus—a fitting tribute to the immortalized love Zhu and Liang and the camaraderie they found in their halcyon student days.