by Cao Xueqin
‘I will take Snowgoose with me. You go and tell your husband to prepare Miss Lin’s things. I will report to Mrs Lian for you.’
‘Yes, Miss Patience,’ said Lin’s wife, and went on her errand.
Patience then took Snowgoose to the bridal apartment, and reported there herself before going to see to her own affairs.
*
When Snowgoose saw the wedding preparations in full swing and thought of Dai-yu lying at death’s door, she felt a pang of grief. But she dared not show her feelings in the presence of Grandmother Jia and Xi-feng. ‘What can they want me for?’ she wondered. ‘I must see what is going on. I know Bao-yu used to be head over heels in love with Miss Lin. And yet now he seems to have deserted her. I begin to wonder if this illness of his is genuine or just a pretence. He may have made the whole thing up so as to avoid upsetting Miss Lin. By pretending to lose his jade and acting like an idiot, perhaps he thinks he can put her off, and marry Miss Chai with a clear conscience? I must watch him closely, and see if he acts the fool when he sees me. Surely he won’t keep up the pretence on his wedding-day?’ She slipped in and stood spying at the inner doorway.
Now, though Bao-yu’s mind was still clouded from the loss of his jade, his sense of joy at the prospect of marrying Dai-yu – in his eyes the most blessed, the most wonderful thing that had happened in heaven or earth since time began – had caused a temporary resurgence of physical well-being, if not a full restoration of his mental faculties. Xi-feng’s ingenious plan had had exactly the intended effect, and he was now counting the minutes till he should see Dai-yu. Today was the day when all his dreams were to come true, and he was filled with a feeling of ecstasy. He still occasionally let slip some tell-tale imbecile remark, but in other respects gave the appearance of having completely recovered. All this Snowgoose observed, and was filled with hatred for him and grief for her mistress. She knew nothing of the true cause of his joy.
While Snowgoose slipped away unobserved, Bao-yu told Aroma to hurry and dress him in his bridegroom’s finery. He sat in Lady Wang’s chamber, watching Xi-feng and You-shi bustling about their preparations, himself bursting with impatience for the great moment.
‘If Cousin Lin is coming from the Garden,’ he asked Aroma, ‘why all this fuss? Why isn’t she here yet?’
Suppressing a smile, Aroma replied:
‘She has to wait for the propitious moment.’
Xi-feng turned to Lady Wang and said:
‘Because we are in mourning, we cannot have music in the street. But the traditional ceremony would seem so drab without any music at all, so I have told some of the women-servants with a bit of musical knowledge, the ones who used to look after the actresses, to come and play a little, to add a bit of a festive touch.’
Lady Wang nodded, and said she thought this a good idea. Presently the great bridal palanquin was born in through the main gate. The little ensemble of women-servants played, as it entered down an avenue of twelve pairs of place-lanterns, creating a passably stylish impression. The Master of Ceremonies requested the bride to step out of her palanquin, and Bao-yu saw the Matron of Honour, all in red, lead out his bride, her face conceled by the bridal veil. There was a maid in attendance, and Bao-yu saw to his surprise that it was Snowgoose. This puzzled him for a moment.
‘Why Snowgoose, and not Nightingale?’ he asked himself. Then: ‘Of course. Snowgoose is Dai-yu’s original maid from the South, whereas Nightingale was one of our maids, which would never do.’
And so, when he saw Snowgoose, it was as if he had seen the face of Dai-yu herself beneath the veil.
The Master of Ceremonies chanted the liturgy, and the bride and groom knelt before Heaven and Earth. Grandmother Jia was called forth to receive their obeisances, as were Sir Zheng, Lady Wang and other elders of the family, after which they escorted the couple into the hall and thence to the bridal chamber. Here they were made to sit on the bridal bed, were showered with dried fruit and subjected to the various other practices customary in old Nanking families such as the Jias, which we need not describe in detail here.
Jia Zheng, it will be remembered, had gone along with the plan grudgingly, in deference to Grandmother Jia’s wishes, retaining grave though unspoken doubts himself as to her theory of ‘turning Bao-yu’s luck’. But today, seeing Bao-yu bear himself with a semblance of dignity, he could not help but be pleased.
The bride was how sitting alone on the bridal bed, and the moment had come for the groom to remove her veil. Xi-feng had made her preparations for this event, and now asked Grandmother Jia, Lady Wang and others of the ladies present to step forward into the bridal chamber to assist her. The sense of climax seemed to cause Bao-yu to revert somewhat to his imbecile ways, for as he approached his bride he said:
‘Are you better now, coz? It’s such a long time since we last saw each other. What do you want to go wrapping yourself up in that silly thing for?’
He was about to raise the veil. Grandmother Jia broke into a cold sweat. But he hesitated, thinking to himself:
‘I know how sensitive Cousin Lin is. I must be very careful not to offend her.’
He waited a little longer. But soon the suspense became unbearable, and he walked up to her and lifted the veil. The Matron of Honour took it from him, while Snowgoose melted into the background and Oriole came forward to take her place. Bao-yu stared at his bride. Surely this was Bao-chai? Incredulous, with one hand holding the lantern, he rubbed his eyes with the other and looked again. It was Bao-chai. How pretty she looked, in her wedding-gown! He gazed at her soft skin, the full curve of her shoulders, and her hair done up in tresses that hung from her temples! Her eyes were moist, her lips quivered slightly. Her whole appearance had the simple elegance of a white lily, wet with pendant dew; the maidenly blush on her cheeks resembled apricot-blossom wreathed in mist. For a moment he stared at her in utter astonishment. Then he noticed that Oriole was standing at her side, while Snowgoose had quite vanished. A feeling of helpless bewilderment seized him, and thinking he must be dreaming, he stood there in a motionless daze. The maids took the lamp from him and helped him to a chair, where he sat with his eyes fixed in front of him, still without uttering a single word. Grandmother Jia was anxious lest this might signal the approach of another of his fits, and herself came over to rally him, while Xi-feng and You-shi escorted Bao-chai to a chair in the inner part of the room. Bao-chai held her head bowed and said nothing.
After a while, Bao-yu had composed himself sufficiently to think. He saw Grandmother Jia and Lady Wang sitting opposite him, and asked Aroma in a whisper:
‘Where am I? This must all be a dream.’
‘A dream? Why, it’s the happiest day of your life!’ said Aroma. ‘How can you be so silly? Take care: Sir Zeng is outside.’
Pointing now to where Bao-chai sat, and still whispering, Bao-yu asked again:
‘Who is that beautiful lady sitting over there?’
Aroma found this so comical that for a while she could say nothing, but held her hand to her face to conceal her mirth. Finally she replied:
‘That is your bride, the new Mrs Bao-yu.’
The other maids also turned away, unable to contain their laughter.
Bao-yu: ‘Don’t be so silly! What do you mean, “Mrs Bao-yu”? Who is Mrs Bao-yu?’
Aroma: ‘Miss Chai.’
Bao-yu: ‘But what about Miss Lin?’
Aroma: ‘The Master decided you should marry Miss Chai. What’s Miss Lin got to do with it?’
Bao-yu: ‘But I saw her just a moment ago, and Snowgoose too. They couldn’t have just vanished! What sort of trick is this that you’re all playing on me?’
Xi-feng came up and whispered in his ear:
‘Miss Chai is sitting over there, so please stop talking like this. If you offend her, Grannie will be very cross with you.’
Bao-yu was now more hopelessly confused than ever. The mysterious goings-on of that night, coming on top of his already precarious mental state, had wrought him u
p to such a pitch of despair that all he could do was cry – ‘I must find Cousin Lin!’ – again and again. Grandmother Jia and the other ladies tried to comfort him but he was impervious to their efforts. Furthermore, with Bao-chai in the room, they had to be careful what they said. Bao-yu was clearly suffering from a severe relapse, and they now abandoned their attempts to rally him and instead helped him to bed, while ordering several sticks of gum benzoin incense to be lit, the heavy, sedative fumes of which soon filled the room. They all stood in awesome hush. After a short while, the incense began to take effect and Bao-yu sank into a heavy slumber, much to the relief of the ladies, who sat down again to await the dawn. Grandmother Jia told Xi-feng to ask Bao-chai to lie down and rest, which she did, fully dressed as she was, behaving as though she had heard nothing.
Jia Zheng had remained in an outer room during all of this, and so had seen nothing to disillusion him of the reassuring impression he had received earlier on. The following day, as it happened, was the day selected according to the almanac for his departure to his new post. After a short rest, he took formal leave of the festivities and returned to his apartment. Grandmother Jia, too, left Bao-yu sound asleep and returned to her apartment for a brief rest.
The next morning, Jia Zheng took leave of the ancestors in the family shrine and came to bid his mother farewell. He bowed before her and said:
‘I, your unworthy son, am about to depart for afar. My only wish is that you should keep warm in the cold weather and take good care of yourself. As soon as I arrive at my post, I shall write to ask how you are. You are not to worry on my account. Bao-yu’s marriage has now been celebrated in accordance with your wishes, and it only remains for me to beg you to instruct him, and impart to him the wisdom of your years.’
Grandmother Jia, for fear that Jia Zheng would worry on his journey, made no mention of Bao-yu’s relapse but merely said:
‘There is one thing I should tell you. Although the rites were performed last night, Bao-yu’s marriage was not properly consummated. His health would not allow it. Custom, I know, decrees that he should see you off today. But in view of all the circumstances, his earler illness, the luck turning, his still fragile state of convalescence and yesterday’s exertions, I am worried that by going out he might catch a chill. So I put it to you: if you wish him to fulfil his filial obligations by seeing you off, then send for him at once and instruct him accordingly; but if you love him, then spare him and let him say goodbye and make his kotow to you here.’
‘Why should I want him to see me off?’ returned Jia Zheng. ‘All I want is that from now on he should study in earnest. That would bring me greater pleasure by far.’
Grandmother Jia was most relieved to hear this. She told Jia Zheng to be seated and sent Faithful, after imparting to her various secret instructions, to fetch Bao-yu and to bring Aroma with him. Faithful had not been away many minutes, when Bao-yu came in and with the usual promptings, performed his duty to his father. Luckily the sight of his father brought him, for a few moments, sufficient clarity to get through the formalities without any gross lapses. Jia Zheng delivered himself of a few exhortatory words, to all of which his son gave the correct replies. Then Jia Zheng told Aroma to escort him back to his room, while he himself went to Lady Wang’s apartment. There he earnestly enjoined Lady Wang to take charge of Bao-yu’s moral welfare during his absence.
‘There must be none of his previous unruliness,’ he added. ‘He must now prepare himself to enter for next year’s provincial examination.’
Lady Wang assured him that she would do her utmost, and without mentioning anything else, at once sent a maid to escort Bao-chai into the room. Bao-chai performed the rite proper to a newly-married bride seeing off her father-in-law, and then remained in the room when Jia Zheng left. The other women-folk accompanied him as far as the inner gate before turning back. Cousin Zhen and the other young male Jias received a few words of exhortation, drank a farewell toast, and, together with a crowd of other friends and relatives, accompanied him as far as the Hostelry of the Tearful Parting, some three or four miles beyond the city walls, where they bid their final farewell.
But of Jia Zheng’s departure no more. Let us return to Bao-yu, who on leaving his father, had suffered an immediate relapse. His mind became more and more clouded, and he could swallow neither food nor drink. Whether or not he was to emerge from this crisis alive will be revealed in the next chapter.
Chapter 98
Crimson Pearl’s suffering spirit returns to the Realm of Separation
And the convalescent Stone-in-waiting weeps at the scene of past affection
On his return from seeing his father, Bao-yu, as we have seen, regressed into a worse state of stupor and depression than ever. He was too lacking in energy to move, and could eat nothing, but fell straight into a heavy slumber. Once more the doctor was called, once more he took Bao-yu’s pulses and made out a prescription, which was administered to no effect. He could not even recognize the people around him. And yet, if helped into a sitting position, he could still pass for someone in normal health. Provided he was not called upon to do anything, there were no external symptoms to indicate how seriously ill he was. He continued like this for several days, to the increasing anxiety of the family, until the Ninth Day after the wedding, when according to tradition the newly-married couple should visit the bride’s family. If they did not go, Aunt Xue would be most offended. But if they went with Bao-yu in his present state, whatever were they to say? Knowing that his illness was caused by his attachment to Dai-yu, Grandmother Jia would have liked to make a clean breast of it and tell Aunt Xue. But she feared that this too might cause offence and ill-feeling. It was also difficult for her to be of any comfort to Bao-chai, who was in a delicate position as a new member of the Jia family. Such comfort could only be rendered by a visit from the girl’s mother, which would be difficult if they had already offended her by not celebrating the Ninth Day. It must be gone through with. Grandmother Jia imparted her views on the matter to Lady Wang and Xi-feng:
‘It is only Bao-yu’s mind that has been temporarily affected. I don’t think a little excursion would do him any harm. We must prepare two small sedan-chairs, and send a maid to support him. They can go through the Garden. Once the Ninth Day has been properly celebrated, we can ask Mrs Xue to come over and comfort Bao-chai, while we do our utmost to restore Bao-yu to health. They will both benefit.’
Lady Wang agreed and immediately began making the necessary preparations. Bao-chai acquiesced in the charade out of a sense of conjugal duty, while Bao-yu in his moronic state was easily manipulated. Bao-chai now knew the full truth, and in her own mind blamed her mother for making a foolish decision. But now that things had gone this far she said nothing. Aunt Xue herself, when she witnessed Bao-yu’s pitiful condition, began to regret having ever given her consent, and could only bring herself to play a perfunctory part in the proceedings.
When they returned home, Bao-yu’s condition seemed to grow worse. By the next day he could not even sit up in bed. This deterioration continued daily, until he could no longer swallow medicine or water. Aunt Xue was there, and she and the other ladies in their frantic despair scoured the city for eminent physicians, without finding one that could diagnose the illness. Finally they discovered, lodging in a broken-down temple outside the city, a down-and-out practitioner by the name of Bi Zhi-an, who diagnosed it as a case of severe emotional shock, aggravated by a failure to dress in accordance with the seasons and by irregular eating habits, with consequent accumulation of choler and obstruction of the humours. In short, an internal disorder made worse by external factors. He made out a prescription in accordance with this diagnosis, which was administered that evening. At about ten o’clock it began to take effect. Bao-yu began to show signs of consciousness and asked for water to drink. Grandmother Jia, Lady Wang and all the other ladies congregated round the sick-bed felt that they could at last have a brief respite from their vigil, and Aunt Xue was invited to br
ing Bao-chai with her to Grandmother Jia’s apartment to rest for a while.
His brief access of clarity enabled Bao-yu to understand the gravity of his illness. When the others had gone and he was left alone with Aroma, he called her over to his side and taking her by the hand said tearfully:
‘Please tell me how Cousin Chai came to be here? I remember Father marrying me to Cousin Lin. Why has she been made to go? Why has Cousin Chai taken her place? She has no right to be here! I’d like to tell her so, but I don’t want to offend her. How has Cousin Lin taken it? Is she very upset?’
Aroma did not dare tell him the truth, but merely said:
‘Miss Lin is ill.’
‘I must go and see her,’ insisted Bao-yu. He wanted to get up, but days of going without food and drink had so sapped his strength that he could no longer move, but could only weep bitterly and say:
‘I know I am going to die! There’s something on my mind, something very important, that I want you to tell Grannie for me. Cousin Lin and I are both ill. We are both dying. It will be too late to help us when we are dead; but if they prepare a room for us now and if we are taken there before it is too late, we can at least be cared for together while we are still alive, and be laid out together when we die. Do this for me, for friendship’s sake!’
Aroma found this plea at once disturbing, comical and moving. Bao-chai, who happened to be passing with Oriole, heard every word and took him to task straight away.
‘Instead of resting and trying to get well, you make yourself iller with all this gloomy talk! Grandmother has scarcely stopped worrying about you for a moment, and here you are causing more trouble for her. She is over eighty now and may not live to acquire a title because of your achievements; but at least, by leading a good life, you can repay her a little for all that she has suffered for your sake. And I hardly need mention the agonies Mother has endured in bringing you up. You are the only son she has left. If you were to die, think how she would suffer! As for me, I am wretched enough as it is; you don’t need to make a widow of me. Three good reasons why even if you want to die, the powers above will not let you and you will not be able to. After four or five days of proper rest and care, your illness will pass, your strength will be restored and you will be yourself again.’