A Dream of Red Mansion

by Cao Xueqin

  “He’s making great progress, not only in his form. He’s now able to use a stronger bow as well.”

  “That’s good. But don’t let him overtax his strength.”

  When Jia Zhen had agreed to this she remarked, “The mooncakes you sent us yesterday were good. The melons looked all right but were disappointing.”

  “The cakes were made by a new pastry cook. Finding them good I ventured to have some made for you, madam, as a token of respect. It’s strange that this year’s melons aren’t up to the usual standard.”

  “There was too much rain this summer,” remarked Jia Zheng.

  “Well, the moon has risen now. Let’s go and offer incense.”

  The old lady rose and leaning on Baoyu’s shoulder led the way to the Garden. By now all the Garden’s main gates were wide open, big horn-lanterns hanging above. On the terrace in front of the Hall of Auspicious Shade where incense was burning in screened containers, shielded candles were alight, and melons, cakes and sweetmeats had been set out, Lady Xing and the other ladies were waiting for them. The bright moonlight, coloured lanterns, scents and incense evoked an ethereal splendour defying description.

  The terrace was spread with carpets and silk cushions. The Lady Dowager washed her hands, burned incense and kowtowed; then all the rest followed suit. After that she said it would be better to enjoy the view of the moon from a height, and ordered the feast to be served in the big pavilion on the ridge of the hill. Attendants hurried there to make preparations while she had a short rest in the Hall of Auspicious Shade, sipping tea and chatting with her family. When presently it was announced that all was ready she started up the hill, leaning on some maids’ shoulders.

  “The mossy stones may be slippery,” warned Lady Wang. “Why not go up in a bamboo chair?”

  “The path is swept every day and it’s very smooth and wide,” countered the old lady. “I may as wall walk to loosen up my old bones.”

  Jia She and Jia Zheng led the way, followed by two old nurses with horn-lanterns. Yuanyang, Hupo and Madam You kept beside the old lady to help her along while Lady Xing and the rest clustered behind, and a mere hundred paces brought them to the summit on which stood Convex Emerald Hall, so called because it was built on a promontory. On its front terrace, partitioned into two by a large screen, were tables and chairs all round in shape to symbolize perfect reunion. The old lady took the centre seat with Jia She, Jia Zhen, Jia Lian and Jia Rong on her left, on her right Jia Zheng, Baoyu, Jia Huan and Jia Lan. The circle, however, was only half complete, the other half being conspicuously vacant.

  “I don’t usually feel there are too few of us, yet tonight I do,” observed the old lady. “Why, in the old days, on an evening like this there’d have been thirty to forty menfolk and womenfolk and it would have been ever so lively. This is too small a party. We can’t ask others to join us, as they’re all celebrating at home with their own parents, so let’s get some of the girls to fill up the gap on the other side.”

  Yingchun, Tanchun and Xichun were fetched, and Jia Lian, Baoyu and the other boys stood up to offer them seats, taking lower places themselves. Then the Lady Dowager called for a twig of osmanthus and ordered a serving-woman to beat a drum on the other side of the screen as the twig passed from hand to hand. Whoever had it when the drumming stopped had to drink a cup of wine and tell a joke as forfeit. The game started with the old lady passing the twig to Jia She, and so on in turn. After two rounds Jia Zheng was left with it in his hand and had to drink up, while his children, nephews and nieces nudged or tugged at each other meaningly as they waited, smiling, to hear what joke he would tell. As his mother was in high spirits he felt constrained to do his best to please her.

  “If you can’t make us laugh,” she warned, “we shall punish you by making you tell another.”

  “I have only the one joke, madam. If you don’t find it funny I’ll accept the penalty....There was a man who was hen-pecked....”

  He was interrupted here by a burst of laughter, as Jia Zheng had never told jokes of this type before.

  “This must be a good one,” said the old lady, laughing.

  “If you think it good, you must drink another cup, madam.”

  “Agreed.”

  He went on, “This hen-pecked husband never dared go anywhere without his wife’s permission. But on the Moon Festival, going out to do some shopping, he met friends who dragged him home to drink with them. He got drunk and slept in their house. The next day when he woke up, quite conscience-stricken, he had to go home to apologize. It happened that his wife was washing her feet.

  “She said to him, ‘Well, if you lick my feet I’ll forgive you.’

  “So the man had to lick her feet. But he couldn’t help retching, and this so enraged his wife that she threatened to beat him.

  “‘What insolence!’ she cried.

  “He fell on his knees in fright and explained, ‘It’s not that your feet stink, madam, but all the rice-wine and mooncakes I had yesterday have turned my stomach today.’“

  The whole company laughed, and Jia Zheng at once poured a cup of wine for the old lady.

  “If that’s how you feel, let’s replace this wine with spirits,” she proposed. “We don’t want you to be sick.”

  Amid general mirth the drumming started once more, stopping this time when Baoyu had the osmanthus. His father’s presence made him feel on edge, but here he was caught with the twig in his hand. If I fail to tell a good joke I’ll be scolded for being too stupid even to tell a joke, he thought. If I tell an amusing one he’ll say I’m no good at studying, only able to gab, and blame me all the more. So I’d better get out of it.

  He stood up and pleaded, “I’m no good at telling jokes. Please set me some other forfeit.”

  “Well then,” said Jia Zheng, “write an occasional poem with ‘autumn’ as the rhyme. If it’s good you’ll get a reward. If not, look out tomorrow!”

  “We’re just playing a drinking game,” objected the old lady. “Why make him write a poem?”

  “He can do it,” Jia Zheng assured her. At once she sent for paper and a brush.

  Jia Zheng warned, “Mind you don’t use ornate phrases like ‘frozen jade,’ ‘silver crystal,’ ‘bright splendour’ or ‘shining purity.’ Your poem must be original. I want to test your ability after these years of study.”

  This was just what Baoyu had been hoping for. He promptly made up four lines and wrote them out, presenting the poem to Jia Zheng who nodded without any comment. The Lady Dowager took this as a good sign.

  “How is it?” she asked.

  To please her Jia Zheng answered. “Quite a good effort. But because he hasn’t been studying the right books the language lacks distinction.”

  “That’s good enough. After all, how old is he? Do you expect him to be a prodigy? You should encourage him, to make him pay more attention to study in future.”

  “Very well.” Jia Zheng turned to order a nurse, “Go and tell the pages in my study to bring two of those fans I brought back from Hainan to give him.”

  Baoyu having bowed his thanks sat down again, and they went on with the game.

  This prize given to Baoyu made Lan now leave his seat to write a poem too, which he handed to his grandfather. Jia Zheng, very pleased with it, explained the contents of both poems to the old lady. And she was so delighted that she ordered a prize to be given to Lan too, after which they resumed their seats to continue the game. This time the drumming stopped when the osmanthus was in Jia She’s hand, and he had to drink a cup and tell a joke.

  “The son of a certain family was most filial,” he began. “One day his mother fell ill, and unable to find physicians able to cure her they called in an old woman who practised acupuncture. As she knew nothing of the principles of pulse-taking, she diagnosed the illness as fire in the heart which a few acupuncture treatments would set right.

  “The son asked in alarm, ‘How can you needle her heart? Won’t that kill her?’

 
“The old woman said, ‘There’s no need to needle the heart. Just needling the ribs will do.’

  “He protested, ‘But the heart isn’t anywhere near the ribs.’

  “She said, ‘That doesn’t matter. Don’t you know that all parents are biased, so that their hearts always incline to one side?’“ Amid general laughter his mother had to sip some wine. After a short silence she said, “I suppose I should get that old woman to give me some acupuncture treatment too.”

  Jia She realized then that she took the joke personally and he had offended her by his tactlessness. At once he stood up to pour her wine and tried to pass it off, and the old lady let the matter drop.

  The game went on and this time Huan was caught holding the flower. Recently he had paid more attention to his studies; but, like Baoyu, instead of studying the orthodox classics he preferred to read poems, especially those dealing with the bizarre and supernatural. When he saw Baoyu awarded a prize for his poem he wanted to show off too, but in his father’s presence dared not suggest it. Now that his turn had come to pay a forfeit, he also took paper and brush and wrote a four-lined verse which he handed to Jia Zheng. His father, although quite impressed, could read between the lines a lack of interest in study.

  “You brothers are alike,” he rebuked them both. “All the ideas you express are heterodox. You’ll both turn out undisciplined reprobates. The ancients spoke of a ‘matchless pair,’ and that’s what you two are; only in your case ‘matchless’ means ‘incorrigible.’ The elder brother shamelessly compares himself to Wen Tingyun, and now the younger considers himself another Cao Tang.”

  Jia She and the others laughed, and Jia She asked to see the poem and was full of praise for it.

  “This seems to me to show character,” he observed. “In our family we’re not like those poor pedants who must ‘study by the light of reflected snow or glow-worms’ to pass the examination for the highest degree in order to climb up to exalted positions. Our sons should study too; but if they’re a bit more intelligent than average and look all right, they can hardly fail to get some official post. There’s no need for them to pore over tomes and become bookworms. That’s why I like this poem of his—it shows the spirit of our noble house.”

  Thereupon he ordered a servant to fetch some novelties from his room as a reward. And patting Huan on the head he said with a laugh, “Just go on writing like this—it’s our family’s style. I’m sure you’ll inherit our noble ranks in future.”

  Jia Zheng protested, “He was just writing nonsense. How can these lines foretell the future?” He poured a cup of wine for the old lady and the game went on.

  Then the Lady Dowager suggested, “You gentlemen can take your leave now. There must be friends waiting for you outside. It won’t do to neglect them. Besides, it’s already past the second watch. Once you’ve gone, our girls will be able to enjoy themselves more freely for a while before we retire for the night.”

  Jia She and the others stopped the game then and after a final toast took the younger men away. If you want to know the sequel, read the next chapter.

  Chapter 76

  By Convex Emerald Hall Fluting Fills an Old Lady with Grief

  In Concave Crystal Lodge Girls Composing a Poem Lament Their Loneliness

  When Jia She and Jia Zheng had led Jia Zhen and the other men away, the Lady Dowager ordered serving-women to remove the screen and turn the two feasts into one. This they did by clearing the tables, replenishing the refreshments and bringing clean cups and chopsticks while the ladies put on warmer clothes, washed their faces and sipped tea. As they took seats again around one table the old lady noticed that Baochai and Baoqin were missing—they were celebrating the festival at home. In addition, Li Wan and Xifeng were unwell and the absence of these four made things seem rather quiet.

  “In the past,” she remarked, “When the master was away we used to invite Aunt Xue over to enjoy the moon with us and had great fun, until suddenly the thought of his absence, parting husband from wife, mother from son and father from children took away a bit from our pleasure.

  “This year with the master back our family’s reunited, but that means we couldn’t ask Aunt Xue and her children over to have a good time with us. Besides, they’ve two relatives staying there this year and couldn’t leave them to come over here. And on top of that, Xifeng’s unwell. If she were here joking and laughing, she’d make up for ten other people. This shows nothing can ever be perfect in this world.” She sighed and called for a big cup of heated wine.

  “This year you and your son are together,” said Lady Wang. “That’s an improvement on the past. Though you had more young people around you then, it still wasn’t as good as having your own son back.”

  “True,” agreed the old lady. “That’s why I’m in such good spirits that I want to drink from a big cup. You should switch to big cups too.”

  Lady Xing and the others had to comply. It was late now, they were tired, and as none of them were good drinkers they were flagging; but since the old lady was still in the mood for fun they had no choice but to keep her company. She ordered rugs to be spread on the steps and mooncakes, water-melons and other refreshments set out there so that the maids could sit down in a circle and enjoy the moon as well.

  The moon, now in mid sky, was more dazzlingly lovely than ever.

  “With such a fine moon we must listen to some fluting,” decided the Lady Dowager. She sent for the girl musicians, telling them, ‘Too many instruments would break the spell. One flute played in the distance will be enough.”

  The flutist was just going off when one of Lady Xing’s matrons brought her a message. The old lady asked what it was, and the matron answered:

  “Just now, on his way home, the Elder Master tripped over a stone and sprained his ankle.”

  At once the Lady Dowager sent two women to see how he was and urged Lady Xing to hurry back. As she was taking her leave the old lady added, “Zhen’s wife may as well go with you. I’ll soon be turning in.”

  Madam You countered gaily, “I’m not going back today. I mean to sit up drinking the whole night with our Old Ancestress.”

  “No, that won’t do. A young couple like you ought to be united tonight. How can you desert your husband for my sake?”

  Madam You flushed crimson and tittered, “What do you take us for, Old Ancestress? We aren’t as young as all that—we’ve been married for over a dozen years and are getting on for forty. Besides, we’re still in mourning. There’s no harm in my keeping you company tonight. How can you ask me to spend it with my husband?”

  “Quite right,” chuckled the old lady. “I’d forgotten you were still in mourning. Yes, your poor father-in-law has been dead two years and more—how time does fly! I must drink a big cup as a forfeit for forgetting. Well, don’t go then but stay and keep me company. Rong’s wife can go back with her great-aunt.”

  So Madame You told her daughter-in-law to accompany Lady Xing, and they mounted their carriages at the gate, then left.

  In the Garden, the Lady Dowager led her party to enjoy the osmanthus in bloom, after which they returned to the feast and fresh wine was heated. They were chatting when, all of a sudden, from under the osmanthus came wafting the sweet, dulcet, mellifluous sound of fluting. In the bright moonlight and fresh breeze, with the sky above a void, the earth utterly still, this music dispelled all care and anxiety. Every voice hushed, they sat appreciating it in silence.

  The fluting went on for the time it takes to drink two cups of tea. When it stopped, everyone exclaimed in admiration. Then warm wine was poured again.

  “Wasn’t that delightful?” asked the old lady, beaming.

  “Really lovely, madam!” they replied. “We’d never have thought of such a thing. We need you to show us how to enjoy ourselves.”

  “This still isn’t good enough. What’s needed is slow music, the slower the better.”

  They had been eating melon-seed oil mooncakes stuffed with pine-kernals from the Palace, and th
e old lady now ordered one of these to be sent with a big cup of warm wine to the flutist, with instructions to drink it slowly then play another melody to the very best of her ability. Some serving-women had just gone off on this errand when back came the two matrons sent to ask after Jia She.

  “We saw His Lordship,” they reported. “His right instep is a bit swollen, but he’s taken some medicine and the pain is less now. It’s nothing serious.”

  The Lady Dowager nodded.

  “I worry too much about my children,” she sighed. “He calls me biased, yet I feel such concern for him.” She repeated Jia She’s joke to Lady Wang and Madam You.

  “It was only a joke after drinking,” said Lady Wang soothingly. “Anyone can make a slip. He can’t possibly have had you in mind, madam. Why take it to heart?”

  Yuanyang had now brought a soft hood and a cape. “It’s late,” she said. “There’ll be dew, and you may catch cold in the wind unless you put more on. After a little while you should go and rest.”

  “Why hurry me when I’m in high spirits?” asked the old lady. “I’m not drunk, am I? I’m going to sit up till dawn.”

  She called for more wine, put on the hood and the cape, and went on drinking and joking with the rest.

  Now from the shade of the osmanthus trees they heard the melodious strains of fluting again, sadder this time than before, and all kept silent. The old lady was under the influence of wine, and in the still night, under the bright moon, the plaintive music touched her heart and she could not hold back her tears. The others were painfully affected too; but after some time, noticing her distress, they began to talk gaily to cheer her up and called for more wine, directing the flutist to stop.

  “I’ve learned one joke,” announced Madam You. “Let me tell it to amuse our Old Ancestress.”

  The old lady forced a smile.

  “So much the better.”

  “A family had four sons. The eldest had only one eye, the second only one ear, the third only one nostril, the fourth had all his organs but was dumb....”