by Cao Xueqin
End in a foul stews, plying a shameful trade.
The judge whose hat is too small for his head
Wears, in the end, a convict’s cangue instead.
Who shivering once in rags bemoaned his fate,
Today finds fault with scarlet robes of state.
In such commotion does the world’s theatre rage:
As each one leaves, another takes the stage.
In vain we roam:
Each in the end must call a strange land home.
Each of us with that poor girl may compare
Who sews a wedding-gown for another bride to wear.’
‘A very accurate commentary !’ cried the mad, lame Taoist, clapping his hands delightedly.
But Shi-yin merely snatched the satchel that hung from the other’s shoulder and slung it from his own, and with a shout of’ Let’s go!’ and without even waiting to call back home, he strode off into the wide world in the company of the madman.
This event made a great uproar in the little town, and news of it was relayed from gossip to gossip until it reached the ears of Mrs Zhen, who cried herself into fits when she heard it. After consulting her father, she sent men out to inquire everywhere after her husband; but no news of him was to be had.
It was now imperative that she should move in with her parents and look to them for support. Fortunately she still had the two maids who had stayed on with her from the Soochow days, and by sewing and embroidering morning, noon and night, she and her women were able to make some contribution to her father’s income. The latter still found daily occasion to complain, but there was very little he could do about it.
One day the elder of the two maids was purchasing some silks at the door when she heard the criers clearing the street and all the people began to tell each other that the new mandarin had arrived. She hid in the doorway and watched the guards and runners marching past two by two. But when the mandarin in his black hat and scarlet robe of office was borne past in his great chair, she stared for some time as though puzzled. ‘Where have I seen that mandarin before?’ she wondered. ‘His face looks extraordinarily familiar.’ But presently she went into the house again and gave the matter no further thought.
That night, just as they were getting ready for bed, there was suddenly a great commotion at the door and a confused hubbub of voices shouting that someone was wanted at the yamen for questioning, which so terrified Feng Su that he was momentarily struck dumb and could only stare.
If you wish to know what further calamity this portended, you will have to read the following chapter.
Chapter 2
A daughter of the Jias ends her days
in Yangchow city
And Leng Zi-xing discourses on the Jias of
Rong-guo House
Hearing the clamour of yamen runners outside, Feng Su urried to the door, his face wreathed in smiles, to ask what hey wanted. ‘Tell Mr Zhen to step outside,’ they were houting. ‘Hurry!’
Feng Su’s smile became even more ingratiating. ‘My name is Feng, not Zhen. My son-in-law’s name is Zhen, but he left home to become a Taoist more than a year ago. Could he be the one you want ?’
‘“Feng” or “Zhen” , it’s all the same to us,’ said the runners; ‘but if you’re his father-in-law you’d better come along with us to see the magistrate.’ And they hustled him off, leaving the entire household in a state of panic, quite at a loss to know what the trouble could be.
It was ten o’clock before Feng Su returned, and everyone pressed him to give a full account of what had transpired.
‘It seems that the new mandarin is a Hu-zhou man called Jia. He used to be an acquaintance of Shi-yin’s in the old days. He guessed that Shi-yin must have moved to these parts when he saw our Lucky in the doorway buying silks. That’s why he sent the runners here. I explained what had happened to Shi-yin, and he seemed very upset. Then he asked me about Ying-lian, and I said she was lost while out watching the lanterns. “Never mind,” he said, “wait till I send some people out to look for her. We shall have her back in no time.” Then we chatted a bit longer, and just as I was going, he gave me two taels of silver.’
Mrs Zhen could not help being affected by this account. But the rest of that night we pass over in silence.
Early next day a messenger arrived from Yu-cun bearing two packets of silver and four bolts of silk brocade for Mrs hen as a token of the sender’s gratitude. There was also a confidential letter for Feng Su commissioning him to ask Mrs Zhen for Lucky’s hand as Yu-cun’s second wife. Enraptured at the prospect of doing a good turn for a mandarin, Feng Su hastened to urge upon his daughter the importance of complying with this request, and that very night Lucky was bundled into a small covered chair and carried off to the yamen. Yu-cun’s delight goes without saying. Another hundred taels of silver were despatched to Feng Su, together with a number of good things for Mrs Zhen, to cheer and sustain her until such time as her daughter’s whereabouts could be discovered.
Lucky was, of course, the maid who had once turned back to look at Yu-cun when they were living at the house in Soochow. She could scarcely have foreseen at the time what singular good fortune that one glance would procure for her. But she was destined to be doubly fortunate. She had not been with Yu-cun more than a year when she gave birth to a son; and a mere six months later Yu-cun’s first wife died, whereupon Lucky was promoted to fill her place and became Her Ladyship. As the proverb says,
Sometimes by chance
A look or a glance
May one’s fortune advance.
When Yu-cun received the gift of money from Zhen Shi-yin he had left for the capital on the day after the festival. He had done well in the Triennial examination, passing out as a Palace Graduate, and had been selected for external service. And now he had been promoted to the magistracy of this district.
But although his intelligence and ability were outstanding, these qualities were unfortunately offset by a certain cupidity and harshness and a tendency to use his intelligence in order to outwit his superiors; all of which caused his fellow-officials to cast envious glances in his direction, with the result that in less than a year an unfavourable report was sent in by a senior official stating that his ‘seeming ability was no more han a mask for cunning and duplicity’ and citing one or two instances in which he had aided and abetted the peculations of his underlings or allied himself with powerful local interests in order to frustrate the course of justice.
The imperial eye, lighting on this report, kindled with wrath. Yu-cun’s instant dismissal was commanded. The officials at the Prefecture, when notice that he was to be cashiered arrived from the Ministry, rejoiced to a man. But Yu-cun, in spite of all the shame and chagrin that he felt, allowed no glimmer of resentment to appear on his face. Indeed, he joked and smiled as before, and when the business of handing over was completed, he took his wife and family and the loot he had accumulated during his years of office and having settled them all safely in his native Hu-zhou, set off, free as the air, on an extended tour of some of the more celebrated places of scenic interest in our mighty empire.
One day Yu-cun chanced to be staying in the Yangchow area when he heard that the Salt Commissioner for that year was a certain Lin Ru-hai. This Lin Ru-hai had passed out Florilege, or third in the whole list of successful candidates, in a previous Triennial, and had lately been promoted to the Censorate. He was a Soochow man and had not long taken up his duties in Yangchow following his nomination by the emperor as Visiting Inspector in that area.
Lin Ru-hai came of an aristocratic family and was himself fifth in line since his ancestor’s ennoblement. The original patent had been inheritable only up to the third generation, and it was only through the magnanimity of the reigning sovereign that an exceptional act of grace had extended it for a further generation in the case of Lin Ru-hai’s father. Lin Ru-hai himself had therefore been obliged to make his way up through the examination system. It was fortunate for him that, though the family had up to
his time enjoyed hereditary emoluments, it had nevertheless enjoined a high standard of education on all of its members.
Lin Ru-hai was less fortunate, however, in belonging to a family whose numbers were dwindling. He could still point to several related households, but they were all on the distaff side. There was not a single relation in the direct line who bore his name. Already he was fifty, and his only son had died the year before at the age of three. And although he kept several concubines, he seemed fated to have no son, and had all but resigned himself to this melancholy fact.
His chief wife, who had been a Miss Jia, had given him a daughter called Dai-yu. Both parents doted on her, and because she showed exceptional intelligence, conceived the idea of giving her a rudimentary education as a substitute for bringing up a son, hoping in this way somewhat to alleviate the sense of desolation left by the death of their only heir.
Now Jia Yu-cun had had the misfortune to catch a severe chill while staying in his lodgings at Yangchow, and after his recovery, found himself somewhat short of cash. He was therefore already looking around for some more permanent haven where he could rest and recuperate, when he chanced to run into two old friends who were acquainted with the new Salt Commissioner and who, knowing that the latter was looking for a suitable tutor for his daughter, took Yu-cun along to the yamen and introduced him, with the result that he was given the job.
Since Yu-cun’s pupil was both very young and rather delicate, there were no regular hours of instruction; and as she had only a couple of little maids studying with her for company who stayed away when she did, Yu-cun’s employment was far from arduous and left ample time for convalescence.
A year or more passed uneventfully and then, quite unexpectedly, Lin Ru-hai’s wife took ill and died. Yu-cun’s little pupil helped with the nursing throughout her mother’s last illness and mourned for her bitterly after her death. The extra strain this placed on her always delicate constitution brought on a severe attack of a recurrent sickness, and for a long time she was unable to pursue her lessons.
Bored by his enforced idleness, Yu-cun took to going for walks as soon as lunch was over whenever the weather was warm and sunny.
One day a desire to savour country sights and sounds led him outside the city walls, and as he walked along with no fixed destination in mind, he presently found himself in a lace ringed with hills and full of murmuring brooks and tall stands of bamboo where a temple stood half-hidden among the trees. The walled approach to the gateway had fallen in and parts of the surrounding wall were in ruins. A board above the gate announced the temple’s name:
THE TEMPLE OF PERFECT KNOWLEDGE
while two cracked and worn uprights at the sides of the gate ere inscribed with the following couplet:
(on the right-hand side)
As long as there is a sufficiency behind you, you press greedily orward.
(on the left-hand side)
It is only when there is no road in front of you that you think of turning back.
‘The wording is commonplace to a degree,’ Yu-cun reflected, ‘yet the sentiment is quite profound. In all the famous temples and monasteries I have visited, I cannot recollect having ever seen anything quite like it. I shouldn’t be surprised to find that some story of spectacular downfall and dramatic conversion lay behind this inscription. It might be worth going in and inquiring.’
But when he went inside and looked around, he saw only an ancient, wizened monk cooking some gruel who paid no attention whatsoever to his greetings and who proved, when Yu-cun went up to him and asked him a few questions, to be both deaf and partially blind. His toothless replies were all but unintelligible, and in any case bore no relation to the questions.
Yu-cun walked out again in disgust. He now thought that in order to give the full rural flavour to his outing he would treat himself to a few cups of wine in a little country inn and accordingly directed his steps towards the near-by village. He had scarcely set foot inside the door of the village inn when one of the men drinking at separate tables inside rose up and advanced to meet him with a broad smile.
‘Fancy meeting you!’
It was an antique dealer called Leng Zi-xing whom Yu-cun had got to know some years previously when he was staying in the capital. Yu-cun had a great admiration for Zi-xing as a practical man of business, whilst Zi-xing for his part was tickled to claim acquaintanceship with a man of Yu-cun’s great learning and culture. On the basis of this mutual admiration the two of them had got on wonderfully well, and Yu-cun now returned the other’s greeting with a pleased smile.
‘My dear fellow! How long have you been here? I really had no idea you were in these parts. It was quite an accident that I came here today at all. What an extraordinary coincidence!’
‘I went home at the end of last year to spend New Year with the family,’ said Zi-xing. ‘On my way back to the capital I thought I would stop off and have a few words with a friend of mine who lives hereabouts, and he very kindly invited me to spend a few days with him. I hadn’t got any urgent business waiting for me, so I thought I might as well stay on a bit and leave at the middle of the month. I came out here on my own because my friend has an engagement today. I certainly didn’t expect to run into you here.’
Zi-xing conducted Yu-cun to his table as he spoke and ordered more wine and some fresh dishes to be brought. The two men then proceeded, between leisurely sips of wine, to relate what each had been doing in the years that had elapsed since their last meeting.
Presently Yu-cun asked Zi-xing if anything of interest had happened recently in the capital.
‘I can’t think of anything particularly deserving of mention,’ said Zi-xing. ‘Except, perhaps, for a very small but very unusual event that took place in your own clan there.’
‘What makes you say that?’ said Yu-cun, ‘I have no family connections in the capital.’
‘Well, it’s the same name,’ said Zi-xing. ‘They must be the same clan.’
Yu-cun asked him what family he could be referring to.
‘I fancy you wouldn’t disown the Jias of the Rong-guo mansion as unworthy of you.’
‘Oh, you mean them,’ said Yu-cun. ‘There are so many members of my clan, it’s hard to keep up with them all. Since the time of Jia Fu of the Eastern Han dynasty there have been branches of the Jia clan in every province of the empire. The Rong-guo branch is, as a matter of fact, on the same clan register as my own; but since they are exalted so far above us socially, we don’t normally claim the connection, and nowadays we are completely out of touch with them.’
Zi-xing sighed. ‘You shouldn’t speak about them in that way, you know. Nowadays both the Rong and Ning mansions are in a greatly reduced state compared with what they used to be.’
‘When I was last that way the Rong and Ning mansions both seemed to be fairly humming with life. Surely nothing could have happened to reduce their prosperity in so short a time?’
‘Ah, you may well ask. But it’s a long story.’
‘Last time I was in Jinling,’ went on Yu-cun, ‘I passed by their two houses one day on my way to Shi-tou-cheng to visit the ruins. The Ning-guo mansion along the eastern half of the road and the Rong-guo mansion along the western half must between them have occupied the greater part of the north side frontage of that street. It’s true that there wasn’t much activity outside the main entrances, but looking up over the outer walls I had a glimpse of the most magnificent and imposing halls and pavilions, and even the rocks and trees of the gardens beyond seemed to have a sleekness and luxuriance that were certainly not suggestive of a family whose fortunes were in a state of decline.’
‘Well! For a Palace Graduate Second Class, you ought to know better than that! Haven’t you ever heard the old saying, “The beast with a hundred legs is a long time dying”? Although I say they are not as prosperous as they used to be in years past, of course I don’t mean to say that there is not still a world of difference between their circumstances and those you would expect to find
in the household of your average government official. At the moment the numbers of their establishment and the activities they engage in are, if anything, on the increase. Both masters and servants all lead lives of luxury and magnificence. And they still have plenty of plans and projects under way. But they can’t bring themselves to economize or make any adjustment in their accustomed style of living. Consequently, though outwardly they still manage to keep up appearances, inwardly they are beginning to feel the pinch. But that’s a small matter. There’s something much more seriously wrong with them than that. They are not able to turn out good sons, those stately houses, for all their pomp and show. The males in the family get more degenerate from one generation to the next.’
‘Surely,’ said Yu-cun with surprise, ‘it is inconceivable that such highly cultured households should not give their children the best education possible? I say nothing of other families, but the Jias of the Ning and Rong households used to be famous for the way in which they brought up their sons. How could they come to be as you describe ?’
‘I assure you, it is precisely those families I am speaking of. Let me tell you something of their history. The Duke of Ning-guo and the Duke of Rong-guo were two brothers by the same mother. Ning-guo was the elder of the two. When he died, his eldest son, Jia Dai-hua, inherited his post. Daihua had two sons. The elder, Jia Fu, died at the age of eight or nine, leaving only the second son, Jia Jing, to inherit. Nowadays Jia Jing’s only interest in life is Taoism. He spends all his time over retorts and crucibles concocting elixirs, and refuses to be bothered with anything else.
‘Fortunately he had already provided himself with a son, Jia Zhen, long before he took up this hobby. So, having set his mind on turning himself into an immortal, he has given up his post in favour of this son. And what’s more he refuses outright to live at home and spends his time fooling around with a pack of Taoists somewhere outside the city walls.
‘This Jia Zhen has got a son of his own, a lad called Jia Rong, just turned sixteen. With old Jia Jing out of the way and refusing to exercise any authority, Jia Zhen has thrown his responsibilities to the winds and given himself up to a life of pleasure. He has turned that Ning-guo mansion upside down, but there is no one around who dares gainsay him.