by Cao Xueqin
‘When they told me earlier today that you were planning to give a riddle party, I specially prepared a contribution to the feast so that I might come and join you. You have so much affection for your grandchildren, Mama. Can you not spare just a tiny bit for your son?’
Grandmother Jia laughed:
‘They can’t talk naturally while you are here. All you are doing is making it gloomy for me. I can’t abide it. Well, if you’ve come to answer riddles, I’ll give you a riddle. But if you can’t guess the answer, you will have to pay me a forfeit.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Jia Zheng eagerly. ‘And if I guess right, I shall expect to be given a prize.’
‘Of course,’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘The monkey’s tail reaches from tree-top to ground. It’s the name of a fruit.’
Jia Zheng knew that the answer to this hoary old chestnut was ‘a longan’ (long ‘un), but pretended not to, and made all kinds of absurd guesses, each time incurring the obligation to pay his mother a forfeit, before finally giving the right answer and receiving the old lady’s prize. Then he propounded a riddle of his own for her:
‘My body’s square,
Iron-hard am I.
I speak no word,
But words supply.
- It’s a useful object.’
He whispered the answer to Bao-yu, who, readily understanding what was expected of him, surreptitiously passed it on to Grandmother Jia. The old lady, having thought for a bit and decided that it sounded all right, said:
‘An inkstone.’
‘Bravo, Mamma I Right first time!’ said Jia Zheng, and turning round to address the servants, he asked them to bring in the presents for Lady Jia. There was an answering call from the women below, and presently a number of them came forward bearing trays and boxes of various shapes and sizes which they handed up onto the kang. Grandmother Jia examined them one by one. They all contained traditional Lantern
Festival presents, but in new and exquisite designs and of the very highest quality. The old lady was obviously pleased.
‘Come, children!’ she commanded jovially. ‘Give the Master a drink !’
Bao-yu stood up and poured wine from the wine-kettle into a little cup and Ying-chun handed it ceremoniously to her uncle.
‘Have a look at the riddles on the screen,’ said Grandmother Jia when Jia Zheng, with equal ceremony, had drained the cup. ‘They were all made up by the children. See if you can tell me the answers.’
Jia Zheng rose from his seat and went up to the lantern-screen. The first riddle he saw was Yuan-chun’s:
At my coming the devils turn pallid with wonder.
My body’s all folds and my voice is like thunder.
When, alarmed by the sound of my thunderous crash,
You look round, I have already turned into ash.
An object of amusement.
‘Would that be a firework?’ said Jia Zheng.
‘Yes,’ said Bao-yu.
Jia Zheng looked again, this time at Ying-chun’s:
Man’s works and heaven’s laws I execute.
Without heaven’s laws, my workings bear no fruit.
Why am I agitated all day long?
For fear my calculations may be wrong.
A useful object.
‘An abacus?’
There was a laugh from Ying-chun:
‘Yes.’
The next riddle was Tan-chun’s:
In spring the little boys look up and stare
To see me ride so proudly in the air.
My strength all goes when once the bond is parted,
And on the wind I drift off broken-hearted.
An object of amusement.
‘It looks as if that ought to be a kite,’ said Jia Zheng. ‘Yes,’ said Tan-chun.
The next riddle he looked at was Dai-yu’s:
At court levée my smoke is in your sleeve:
Music and beds to other sorts I leave.
With me, at dawn you need no watchman’s cry,
At night no maid to bring a fresh supply.
My head burns through the night and through the day,
And year by year my heart consumes away.
The precious moments I would have you spare:
But come fair, foul, or fine, I do not care.
A useful object.
‘That must be an incense-clock.’
Bao-yu answered for her:
‘Yes.’
Jia Zheng looked at the next riddle:
Southward you stare,
He’ll northward glare.
Grieve, and he’s sad.
Laugh, and he’s glad.
A useful object.
‘Very good!’ said Jia Zheng. ‘If the answer is “a mirror”, it is a very good ridd le.’
Bao-yu laughed:
‘That is the answer.’
‘Who is it by?’ said Jia Zheng. ‘There is no name on it.’
‘I expect that one is by Bao-yu,’ said Grandmother Jia.
Jia Zheng said nothing and passed on to the next one in silence. It was by Bao-chai:
My ‘eyes’ cannot see and I’m hollow inside.
When the lotuses surface, I’ll be by your side.
When the autumn leaves fall I shall bid you adieu,
For our marriage must end when the summer is through.
A useful object.
Jia Zheng knew that the answer must be ‘a bamboo wife’, as they call those wickerwork cylinders which are put between the bedclothes in summertime to make them cooler; but a growing awareness that all the girls’ verses contained images of grief and loss was by now so much affecting him that he felt quite unable to go on.
‘Enough is enough!’ he thought. ‘What can it be that makes these innocent young creatures all produce language that is so tragic and inauspicious ? It is almost as if they were all destined to be unfortunate and short-lived and were unconsciously foretelling their destiny.’
The gloom into which this reflection plunged him was evident in the melancholy expression on his face and in his bowed and dejected stance. Grandmother Jia noticed it but attributed it to fatigue. She feared that in this melancholy mood his continued presence would place an even greater restraint on the young folk’s gaiety.
‘I think you really oughtn’t to stay,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you go and lie down ? The rest of us will sit up for a bit, but I don’t expect we shall go on very much longer.’
‘Yes,’ said Jia Zheng, roused from his reverie by her voice. ‘Yes, of course.’
But he forced himself to resume his former jovial manner and to drink another cup or two of wine with her before finally retiring. Back in his own apartment, he became lost in reverie once more; but whichever direction his thoughts took him in, he remained melancholy and troubled.
Meanwhile the party he had just left was proceeding somewhat differently.
‘Now, my dears, you can enjoy yourselves!’ Grandmother Jia said as soon as he had left the room; and the words were no sooner out of her mouth than Bao-yu leaped up from his seat and over to the screen and began criticizing the riddles on it – this one had a line wrong here – that one’s words didn’t suit the subject – pointing with his finger and capering about for all the world like a captive monkey that had just been let off its chain.
‘Can’t we sit down and enjoy ourselves quietly, as we were doing just now,’ said Dai-yu, ‘instead of all this prancing about?’
Xi-feng put in a word too, emerging from the inner room to say it:
‘You ought to have Uncle Zheng with you every day and never budge an inch from his side!’ She turned to the others: ‘What a pity I didn’t think of it at the time: we ought to have got Uncle to make him compose some mote riddles for us. Then we should have seen him sweat!’
Bao-yu was greatly exasperated by this remark and tried to seize hold of her. Xi-feng tried to ward him off, and the result was that the two of them became locked in a sort of playful wrestling-match.
Grandmothe
r Jia continued for a while to laugh and joke with Li Wan and the girls, but soon began to feel tired and sleepy. The night-drum was sounding, and when they stopped to listen they found it was already the beginning of the fourth watch. She ordered the food to be cleared away, telling the servants that they might have what was left over for themselves.
‘Time for bed, children!’ she said, rising to her feet. ‘We can do this again tomorrow, if you like; but now we must have some sleep.’
With that the party gradually broke up and they all dispersed to their rooms.
What happened thereafter will be told in the following chapter.
Chapter 23
Words from the ‘Western Chamber’ supply
a joke that offends
And songs from the ‘Soul’s Return’ move a
tender heart to anguish
Some time after her return from the Visitation the Imperial Concubine commissioned Tan-chun to make her a copy of all the poems about Prospect Garden that had been written during her visit, and having rearranged them in what she considered to be their order of merit, further instructed that they should be engraved on stone in the Prospect Garden itself – a lasting memorial to the precocious talent of her gifted family. In pursuance of these instructions, Jia Zheng ordered his people to look out the best craftsmen available to prepare and engrave the stone and delegated Cousin Zhen to supervise the work with Jia Rong and Jia Qiang as his lieutenants. As Jia Qiang proved to be fully occupied with his twelve young actresses – not to mention their costumes, properties and other paraphernalia – three other junior members of the clan, Jia Chang, Jia Ling and Jia Ping, were called in to supervise the labour in his stead. In due course the preliminary stages of waxing, scratching and ‘redding in’ had commenced, and work on the memorial proceeded according to plan. We pass from this to other matters.
The twenty-four little Buddhist and Taoist nuns having now been moved out of the two miniature temples in the garden, Jia Zheng had been thinking of dispersing them among various temples and convents about the city, when a certain Zhou-shi, the widow of a poor relation of the Rong-guo Jias who lived near by in North Dukes Street, chanced to get wind of this matter and saw in it the possibility of some employment.
Zhou-shi had for some time past been meaning to ask Jia Zheng if he would find her boy Jia Qin a job – no matter how small a job as long as it would bring them in a little income – and now, hearing this news about the nuns, she drove incontinent forth to Xi-feng as fast as cab could carry her and besought her to use her influence on the boy’s behalf.
Xi-feng had always found Zhou-shi a pleasant, unassuming sort of body and was disposed to help her. Having agreed to do so, and having rehearsed her line of approach, she went in to Lady Wang and broached the matter with her in the following manner.
‘These little Buddhist and Taoist nuns,’ she said, ‘- we definitely ought not to send them away. We shall need them again if Her Grace ever comes on another visit, and it will be a terrible job getting them together again if they have all been dispersed. If you ask me, the best thing would be to move them to the Temple of the Iron Threshold where they would still be under our control. It would only be a question of sending someone out there every month with a bit of money to pay for their housekeeping; then if there is ever any question of needing them again, we have only to say the word and they can be with us immediately without any trouble.’
The suggestion pleased Jia Zheng when it was in due course relayed to him by Lady Wang.
‘Of course. That is just what we should do. I am glad you reminded me.’
From Jia Zheng a summons arrived for Jia Lian while he and Xi-feng were at dinner. He laid down his chopsticks and rose to go, but Xi-feng put a hand out and detained him:
‘Not so fast! Listen to me! If it’s anything else, never mind; but if it’s about those little nuns…’ – and she went on to tell him exactly what he should say in that event and to impress on him how important it was that he should say it.
Jia Lian smiled and shook his head:
‘Sorry, nothing doing I You’ll have to ask him yourself-if you think you know how to!’
Xi-feng’s back stiffened. She laid down her chopsticks and looked at Jia Lian. There was a glint in her eye and a dangerous little smile on her face when she spoke:
‘Do you mean that, or are you joking?’
‘That boy of my cousin’s widow who lives in West Lane, Jia Yun, has been on at me two or three times about getting him a job, and I promised to do something for him if he would wait. Now here at last a job comes along and, as usual, you want to snap it up yourself.’
‘Don’t worry!’ said Xi-feng consolingly. ‘Her Grace has mentioned that she wants a lot of planting done – pines and cypresses – in the north-east section of the garden, and she has also asked for more shrubs and flowers to be planted round the foot of the main hall. I promise you that as soon as that job comes up your Jia Yun shall be placed in charge of it.’
‘Oh well, in that case all right,’ said Jia Lian. ‘Just one thing, though’ – he dropped his voice and smiled at her slily -’Why did you keep pushing me off like that last night ? I only wanted to try a change of position.’
A quick flush overspread Xi-feng’s face and she exploded in a little laugh. Then with a ‘pshaw!’ in his direction, she lowered her head again and went back to her meal.
Jia Lian laughed and slipped away. On entering Jia Zheng’s presence he found that the subject was, as Xi-feng had anticipated, the arrangements for accommodating the little nuns, and he replied as Xi-feng had instructed him:
‘Jia Qin is a promising young fellow. I think he could be entrusted with the job. In any case, he would be drawing the allowance from Accounts each month when all the other payments are made, so we should be able to keep an eye on him.’
Jia Zheng never took much interest in these trivial domestic matters and agreed readily enough to Jia Lian’s suggestion. The latter returned to his apartment and reported to Xi-feng. Xi-feng sent someone to inform Zhou-shi; and soon Jia Qin himself had arrived and was pouring out his gratitude to the two benefactors. With a show of conferring further favours, Xi-feng ‘begged’ Jia Lian to allow Jia Qin three months’ payment in advance. A receipt was written for this amount and Jia Lian’s seal affixed to it, and there and then Jia Qin was issued with a tally and sent to the counting-house to collect the money.
When the three hundred taels of shining silver had been weighed and counted and handed over, Jia Qin picked up a piece at random and tossed it to the cashiers to ‘buy themselves a cup of tea with’. He had a boy to carry the money back home for him, and after taking counsel with his mother he hired a stout little donkey for himself to ride on and four or five covered mule-carts for the nuns, and conducting the carts round to the side gate of the Rong-guo mansion, he called forth the twenty-four little nuns and packed them all inside. Then off they set, with Jia Qin on his donkey at the head of the procession, to the Temple of the Iron Threshold outside the city. And there we leave them.
Yuan-chun’s editing of the Prospect Garden poems had given her a vivid recollection of the garden’s beauties. She was sure that her father, out of a zealous reverence for the Emperor and herself, would have kept it all locked and closed since her visit and would have allowed no one else to enter, and she felt this to be a waste and a shame – the more so when her family contained so many poetical young ladies who would have found inspiration in its scenery – not to mention the benefit their presence would have bestowed on the garden itself: for, as is well-known,
When lovely woman smiles not,
All Nature’s charms are dead.
Assuredly, the girls must be allowed into the garden. It should become their home. And if the girls, why not Bao-yu ? He had grown up in their midst. He was different from other boys. If he were not allowed into the garden as well, he would consider himself left out in the cold, and his distress would cause Lady Wang and Grandmother Jia to feel unhappy too. Unq
uestionably she should ask for him to be admitted along with the girls. Having reached this decision, she summoned the eunuch Xia Bing-zhong and ordered him to convey the following Edict to Rong-guo House:
Bao-chai and the other young ladies of the household are to reside in the Garden. The Garden is not to be kept closed. Bao-yu is to accompany the young ladies into the Garden and to continue his studies there.
The Edict was received by Jia Zheng and Lady Wang. When Xia Bing-zhong had gone, they reported it at once to Grandmother Jia and sent servants into the garden to sweep and prepare its buildings and rehang the blinds, portières and bed-curtains in readiness for occupation.
No one was more excited by the prospect of this move than Bao-yu. He was discussing it animatedly with Grandmother Jia (it was a discussion in which the words ‘I want’ recurred rather frequently) when suddenly a maid came in and announced that he was wanted by his father. At this bolt from the blue his countenance fell and all his animation drained away. Clinging to his grandmother with the gluey persistence of a toffee twist, he made it abundantly plain to her that he had no wish to obey. The old lady did her best to comfort him:
‘There, there, my lamb! You’d better go and see him. Grannie will see to it that he doesn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t dare. Besides, look at all those lovely poems you wrote: I expect that’s why Her Grace is letting you inside the garden. I’m sure that’s all he wants to see you about. Probably he just wants to warn you against getting up to mischief after you have moved in. You only have to answer nicely and promise to do as he says. You’ll be all right.’
To make sure, she sent a couple of old nannies along as well with strict instructions to watch over him:
‘See that his Pa doesn’t frighten him!’ she told them, and the old women promised their protection.
Obliged to go, yet still reluctant, Bao-yu contrived to do so at so dawdling a pace that each step can have advanced him only a few inches upon his way. It so happened that Jia Zheng had gone for the purpose of discussing these matters into Lady Wang’s room and Lady Wang’s maids Golden, Sun-cloud, Sunset, Avis and Avocet were standing outside under the eaves. Their amusement when they caught sight of Bao-yu advancing at this snail’s pace into the courtyard was evident from the expression on their faces. Golden seized him by the hand, and thrusting out a pair of heavily carmined lips, she said to him in a whisper: