The Dreamer Wakes

by Cao Xueqin

  ‘None of the other maids presents much of a problem. The older ones can be married off, the younger ones can continue to wait on Bao-chai. But what am I to do with Aroma?’

  She did not feel she could raise such a sensitive matter at a large family gathering, and decided to wait until the evening when she could discuss it privately with her sister.

  Aunt Xue did not go home that night but stayed to comfort Bao-chai, afraid she might weep to excess. But in the end, as it turned out, Bao-chai was extremely reasonable. She reflected stoically on the whole course of events and concluded that since Bao-yu had always been a very strange creature, and since no doubt all that had happened had been preordained, there was little point in fighting against it. She expressed this in a very level-headed way to her mother, who was most relieved to hear her adopt this attitude and communicated it to Lady Wang when she next saw her. Lady Wang nodded and sighed:

  ‘If I really were a wicked woman, fate would never have given me such a wonderful daughter-in-law!’

  She started to become tearful again, and Aunt Xue tried to calm her down. She brought up the subject of Aroma:

  ‘She has grown so terribly thin of late. All she ever does is brood about Bao-yu. It’s right and proper for a wife to exhibit loyalty to her husband, even when he is a true husband to her no longer. And a chamber-wife may do the same if she wishes. But Aroma was never formally declared to be Bao-yu’s chamber-wife, even though in fact we know that she was.’

  ‘Yes, I was thinking about this only a short while ago,’ said Lady Wang. ‘I was waiting for a chance to talk it over with you in private. If we simply dismiss her from service, I’m afraid she won’t want to go, and may even try to take her own life. We could keep her on, but I am afraid Sir Zheng would not approve. It is a tricky problem.’

  ‘I hardly think Sir Zheng would want her to remain single and make a show of faithfulness to Bao-yu,’ said Aunt Xue. ‘He doesn’t even know that she was Bao-yu’s chamber-wife. He has always thought of her as just an ordinary maid, so it would seem rather absurd to him to want to keep her on. The only solution is for you to send for a member of her own family and impress upon them the importance of arranging a decent marriage for her. We can give her a generous send-off. She is a good-natured girl and still quite young. You should do what you can for her after all the years she has worked for you. Let me explain things carefully to her. There’s no need to let her know straight away. First we should get in touch with her family and let them arrange a match; next we should make some enquiries ourselves; and then if it seems that the prospective husband’s family are in a position to support her properly, and if the young man himself seems suitable, we can let her leave and get married.’

  ‘That’s a very good idea. You’ve thought it all out very well,’ replied Lady Wang. ‘If we do not take the initiative, Sir Zheng may go ahead himself and deal with her in a very tactless way, and then I will be responsible for yet another misfortune.’

  ‘Exactly the same thought had occurred to me,’ said Aunt Xue nodding her head.

  After they had chatted a while longer, Aunt Xue took her leave and went to Bao-chai’s apartment. She found Aroma in floods of tears and did her best to console her, speaking so far as possible in vague generalities. Aroma was at heart a simple girl and not much of a talker, and she merely gave the appropriate responses to whatever Aunt Xue said.

  ‘I am only a servant,’ she said in the end, ‘and it is very kind of you to think to speak to me like this, ma’am. I have never dared to go against any wish of Her Ladyship’s.’

  ‘There’s a good girl!’ said Aunt Xue, more pleased than ever with her. Bao-chai added a few high-sounding words of her own and when she and Aunt Xue parted from Aroma their minds were considerably more at ease.

  A few days later Jia Zheng came home and was greeted on his arrival by all the family. Jia She and Cousin Zhen had also returned from their exile by now, and they spent some time with Jia Zheng, catching up on each other’s news. Then Jia Zheng went in to see the womenfolk. Bao-yu’s absence cast a shadow of gloom over the gathering, which Jia Zheng tried to dispel as best he could.

  ‘There was a reason behind all this!’ he said. ‘It is up to us men now to maintain a high standard of public life, and I hope that all of you meanwhile will lend us your support here at home. There must be no hint of any slipping back into the lax old ways. Each apartment can look after its own affairs, and we’ve no need of a general manager. Everything in our own apartment I leave to you’ (this was addressed to Lady Wang), ‘to deal with in a fitting manner.’

  Lady Wang informed him that Bao-chai was with child, and that all Bao-yu’s maids would be dismissed. Jia Zheng nodded in silence.

  The following day he attended court to receive his instructions from the chief ministers.

  ‘I am extremely grateful for His Majesty’s gracious favour,’ he said. ‘But since this is still within my period of mourning, I beg you to instruct me how I should express my gratitude.’

  The ministers offered to present a memorial on his behalf. The Emperor most magnanimously granted Jia Zheng a special audience, and after listening to his formal expression of thanks favoured him with several Imperial instructions and enquired after his son, the successful Provincial Graduate. Jia Zheng told him the full story of Bao-yu’s disppearance. The Emperor marvelled at it and declared that Bao-yu’s compositions had indeed manifested a remarkable originality, the very quality one would expect of a soul from another plane. Such a person could have excelled at court if such had been his destiny; but since he had not deigned to earn honours of a worldly nature, it was His Majesty’s pleasure to confer upon him the religious title Magister Verbi Profundi – Master of the Profound Word.

  Jia Zheng kowtowed again to express his thanks for this great honour, and took his leave. On his return home he was received by Jia Lian and Cousin Zhen, who were delighted to hear the latest news from court.

  ‘Ning-guo House has been set in order,’ said Cousin Zhen, ‘and with your consent we intend to take up residence there again. Green Bower Hermitage in the Garden has been set aside for my sister Xi-chun’s devotions.’

  After a pause for reflection Jia Zheng gave them a long homily on their debt of gratitude to the throne for all these favours. Jia Lian took the opportunity of raising the issue of his daughter’s marriage:

  ‘Both Mother and Father are willing that Qiao-jie should be married to this Master Zhou.’

  Jia Zheng had heard the full details of Qiao-jie’s story the previous evening, and replied:

  ‘If that is their decision, then so be it. There is nothing against a country life. What matters is that the family should be an honest one and the lad should be prepared to study and make his way in the world. Not every official at court is from a city family, after all.’

  Jia Lian replied appropriately and continued:

  ‘Father is advanced in years, and is moreover afflicted with a chronic phlegmatic condition. He plans to retire for a few years and leave everything in your hands, Uncle.’

  ‘A quiet retirement in the country would suit me well enough,’ commented Jia Zheng. ‘But alas my obligations to the throne do not permit it.’

  Jia Zheng went in to see Lady Wang, while Jia Lian sent someone to invite Grannie Liu over. When she was informed that the match had been approved by the Master, she proceeded to favour Lady Wang and the other ladies with a long speech on the certain future success of the young man, how his family was sure to come up in the world, and what a prosperous multitude of sons and grandsons the couple were sure to breed.

  While she was talking one of the maids came in to announce that Hua Zi-fang, Aroma’s brother, had sent his wife to convey his respects. Lady Wang spoke to the woman and ascertained from her that a match had been proposed by the Hua family to a certain Mr Jiang living south of the city, a young man with property and land and a pawnshop business of his own. He was a few years older than Aroma but had never married and was excep
tionally good-looking. Lady Wang was satisfied with this description of the match.

  ‘Tell them I agree,’ she said. ‘In a few days’ time your husband can come and fetch his sister and take her away to be married.’

  She also sent some of her own people to make discreet enquiries, and received confirmation of the man’s character, whereupon she informed Bao-chai, and asked Aunt Xue to break the news gently to Aroma. Poor Aroma was inconsolable at the prospect of leaving Rong-guo House, but she could not offer any resistance. She remembered the visit Bao-yu had paid her at home many years previously, and the oath she had sworn afterwards, never to leave him even in death. ‘Now Her Ladyship is making me do this against my will, and if I insist on remaining single and faithful to his memory, people will call me shameless. But if I do go, it is not of my own wishing.’

  She wept until she was choking with tears. Aunt Xue and Bao-chai did their utmost to talk her round, and eventually she thought to herself:

  ‘If I were to die here, it would be a poor return for all Her Ladyship’s kindness to me in the past. I had best die at home.’

  So she bade farewell to them all, her heart heavy with sorrow. It was equally painful for her to part from the other maids. Resolved to end her own life at the first opportunity, she mounted a carriage and set off for home. When she saw her brother and his wife, there were more tears, but she could not bring herself to say what was on her mind. Her brother showed her one by one all the presents sent by the Jiang family, and the trousseau that he himself had made ready for her, a part of which, he explained, had been given by Lady Wang, while a part he had provided himself. This kindness made it harder than ever for Aroma to express her sorrow, and after spending two days at her brother’s home, she thought things over carefully again: ‘He has done everything so nicely for me. If I were to die here, wouldn’t I be hurting him?’ She turned it over and over in her mind, and no course of action seemed easy and right. Her heart was wound into a tight knot. She could only bear her fate stoically and bide her time.

  The auspicious day in the almanac arrived for her to be taken to her husband’s home, and not wishing to make a scene she concealed her grief and let herself be helped into the bridal sedan. At her new home, she thought to herself, she would make plans afresh. But once she arrived at the Jiang household, she found them so sincere and respectful towards her, deferring to her in every way as a young married lady, with the maids and serving-women all calling her Mrs Jiang the minute she set foot in the house, that death seemed impossible again: to die there would be to do them a great injury, she thought to herself; it would be a poor return for all their kindness. On her wedding night she wept without ceasing and would not at first yield to her husband’s embrace, but gradually he won her over with gentle affection.

  The next day, when they were unpacking her cases together, Jiang noticed among her things a crimson cummerbund. From this clue he deduced that his bride must have been one of the maids in attendance on Bao-yu, to whom he had once presented this cummerbund. Earlier he had thought that his bride was just one of Grandmother Jia’s maids; he had certainly never dreamed that he was marrying Aroma. Jiang Yu-han (for it was he, Bao-yu’s actor friend Bijou) was greatly moved when he remembered all the warmth shown him by Bao-yu in the past, and as a consequence he treated Aroma with still greater courtesy and consideration. He showed her the viridian sash that Bao-yu had given him in exchange for the cummerbund, and this visible proof of her husband’s friendship with her erstwhile master inspired Aroma to believe that her life too lay in the hands of fate, that this marriage was indeed predestined. This in turn gave her the courage to open her heart to her husband. Jian proved himself worthy of her trust and showed her a great depth of feeling and a sincere respect, never venturing to steer her forcibly into any new direction, but showing her an ever more gentle affection and regard. Aroma was finally deprived of her last opportunity to take her own life.

  Gentle Reader, it is indeed true (as Aroma concluded) that life is predestined and that ‘there’s naught to be done’. But unfortunately this argument is too often adduced by sons and statesmen who find themselves out of favour, or by faithful widows and widowers, as an excuse for moral torpor. It was this very streak in her personality that relegated Aroma to the ‘Second Supplementary Register’. As a poet of former times once wrote, when passing by the temple built in memory of the Lady of the Peach Blossom:

  Throughout the ages death has been the hardest choice;

  Lady Xi was not alone in lamenting her weakness.*

  Aroma’s married life is the first chapter of another history. Our narrative returns to Jia Yu-cun, who, having been convicted of avarice and extortion, was also released under the general amnesty and allowed to return to his native city as a common citizen. He sent his family on ahead and himself travelled with a young page and a cartload of baggage. His journey brought him once more to Wake Ness Ferry at Rushford Hythe, and as he approached the river he saw a Taoist hermit emerging from a thatched hut by the water’s edge, clasping his hands in greeting. This time Yu-cun recognized him at once as Zhen Shi-yin and promptly bowed in response.

  ‘Esteemed Mr Jia,’ began the old hermit, ‘I trust you have been well since we last parted?’

  ‘So you, sir, are indeed my erstwhile patron Mr Zhen, in Immortal form!’ exclaimed Yu-cun. ‘Why did I not know you at our last encounter? Afterwards, when I heard that your hermitage had been destroyed by fire, I was most concerned for your safety. I am fortunate indeed to have been granted this second opportunity to marvel at the profundity of your spiritual attainments. Alas, I am as benighted as ever, as you can see from my present condition.’

  ‘On the previous occasion,’ replied Zhen Shi-yin, ‘your position was so exalted that I dared not presume an acquaintance. Because of our old friendship, I said a few words, which you ignored altogether. Wealth and poverty, success and failure, none of these are coincidental. Nor is our meeting again like this today a coincidence, but rather a meaningful and marvellous event. We are not far from my lodge and I would be delighted if you could stop by and pass the time of day with me.’

  Jia Yu-cun consented with pleasure and the two men walked hand in hand, the page following them with the baggage-cart to the little thatched hermitage. Shi-yin ushered Yu-cun in, and he sat down and was brought tea by the old man’s acolyte. Yu-cun asked to hear the story of his mystical conversion, and Shi-yin smiled:

  ‘In an instant my world was transformed. You yourself, sir, hailing as you do from the realm of luxury and opulence, must surely have heard there of a person by the name of Bao-yu?’

  ‘Of course,’ replied Yu-cun. ‘Recently I heard a rumour to the effect that he too has taken refuge in the dharma. I saw something of him in the past and it certainly never occurred to me that he would take a step like this.’

  ‘There is nothing unexpected about it,’ said Shi-yin. ‘I have known of his strange destiny for many years. Ever since that day long ago, in fact, when I met you outside my abode in Carnal Lane and we had that little chat. I had already encountered him then.’

  ‘But the capital is a long way from your old home,’ said Yu-cun in great surprise. ‘How could you possibly have set eyes on him at that time?’

  ‘We had long enjoyed a spiritual communion,’ replied Shi-yin darkly.

  ‘In that case, sir, you must know of his present whereabouts?’

  ‘Bao-yu,’ replied the old man, ‘is the Stone, the Precious Jade. Before the two mansions of Rong and Ning were searched and their worldly goods impounded, on the very day when Bao-chai and Dai-yu were separated, the Stone had already quit the world. This was in part to avoid the impending calamity, in part to permit the consummation of the union. From that moment the Stone’s worldly karma was complete, its substance had returned to the Great Unity. All that remained was for it to demonstrate some small fraction of its spiritual powers by achieving academic distinction and by leaving behind an heir to bring honour to the family name. Thus its
precious nature, its magical power, its capacity for spiritual transformation, these were made manifest, and all could know that it was no ordinary stone of this world. To this end the Buddhist mahāsattva Impervioso and the Taoist illuminate Mysterioso first brought it into the world, and now that its destiny is fulfilled it is they who will take it back once more to its place of origin. That is the sum of my knowledge concerning Bao-yu and, as you put it, his “present whereabouts”.’

  Although Yu-cun could not take all of this in, he was able to follow about half. He nodded his head and sighed:

  ‘So that is the truth of the matter. And I never knew. But if Bao-yu is a person of such a remarkable spiritual pedigree, why did he first need to be blinded by human passion before he could reach enlightenment?’

  Shi-yin smiled:

  ‘Even though I may seek to expound this, I fear you may never be able to understand it fully. The Land of Illusion and the Paradise of Truth are one and the same. Could two readings of the registers and a whole lifetime’s experience fail to bring enlightenment? Could he fail to see the Alpha and the Omega? If the Fairy Flower regained its true primordial state, then surely the Magic Stone should do likewise?’

  This time the hermit’s words were truly beyond Yu-cun’s powers of comprehension. He knew only that they must contain some esoteric meaning, and did not venture to probe any further.

  ‘It is so kind of you to tell me all this about Bao-yu,’ he said. ‘But may I ask you another question: why is it that of all the ladies in these noble families, none, including Her Grace the Imperial Jia Concubine, has come to more than an undistinguished end?’

  On hearing this Shi-yin sighed:

  ‘Do not take my words amiss, sir! The fact of the matter is that all these noble ladies to whom you refer hail from the Skies of Passion and the Seas of Retribution. Since olden times their sex has been under a natural obligation to remain pure, pure from lust, pure even from the slightest taint of passion. Thus amorous beauties such as Cui Ying-ying and Su Xiao-xiao were fallen fairies, their celestial hearts polluted with the base desires of this world, while romantic poets such as Song Yu and Si-ma Xiang-ru sinned in like manner through the written word. Consider for a moment: how can any being ensnared in human attachment hope to “come to more than an undistinguished end”, as you put it?’