A Dream of Red Mansion

by Cao Xueqin

  Baoyu fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes and dreamed that Keqing was before him. Absent-mindedly he followed her a long way to some crimson balustrades and white marble steps among green trees and clear streams, in a place seldom trodden by the foot of man, unreached by swirling dust.

  In his dream he thought happily, “This is a pleasant spot. If only I could spend my whole life here! For that I’d gladly give up my home where my parents and teachers keep caning me every day.”

  His fancy was running away with him when he heard someone singing a song on the other side of a hill:

  Gone with the clouds spring’s dream.

  Flowers drift away on the stream.

  Young lovers all, be warned by me,

  Cease courting needless misery.

  Baoyu realized that the voice was a girl’s and before the song had ended he saw the singer come round the hill and approach him. With her graceful gait and air she was truly no mortal being. Here is as proof her description:

  Leaving the willow bank, she comes just now through the flowers. Her approach startles birds in the trees in the court, and soon her shadow falls across the verandah. Her fairy sleeves, fluttering, give off a heady fragrance of musk and orchid. With each rustle of her lotus garments, her jade pendants tinkle.

  Her dimpled smile is peach-blossom in spring, her blue-black hair a cluster of clouds. Her lips are cherries and sweet the breath from her pomegranate teeth.

  The curve of her slender waist is snow whirled by the wind. Dazzling her pearls and emeralds and gosling-gold the painted design on her forehead.

  She slips in and out of the flowers, now vexed, now radiant, and floats over the lake as if on wings.

  Her mothlike eyebrows are knit yet there lurks a smile, and no sound issues from her lips parted as if to speak as she glides swiftly on lotus feet and, pausing, seems poised for flight.

  Her flawless complexion is pure as ice, smooth as jade. Magnificent her costume with splendid designs. Sweet her face, compact of fragrance, carved in jade; and she bears herself like a phoenix or dragon in flight.

  Her whiteness? Spring plum-blossom glimpsed through snow. Her purity? Autumn orchids coated with frost. Her tranquility? A pine in a lonely valley. Her beauty? Sunset mirrored in a limpid pool. Her grace? A dragon breasting a winding stream. Her spirit? Moonlight on a frosty river.

  She would put Xi Shi to shame and make Wang Qiang blush. Where was this wonder born, whence does she come?

  Verily she has no peer in fairyland, no equal in the purple courts of heaven.

  Who can she be, this beauty?

  Overjoyed by the apparition of this fairy, Baoyu made haste to greet her with a bow.

  “Sister Fairy,” he begged with a smile, “do tell me where you are from and whither you are going. I have lost my way. May I beg you to be my guide?”

  “My home is above the Sphere of Parting Sorrow in the Sea of Brimming Grief,” she answered with a smile. “I am the Goddess of Disenchantment from the Grotto of Emanating Fragrance on the Mountain of Expanding Spring in the Illusory Land of Great Void. I preside over romances and unrequited love on earth, the grief of women and the passion of men in the mundane world. The reincarnations of some former lovers have recently gathered here, and so I have come to look for a chance to mete out love and longing. It is no accident that we have met.

  “My realm is not far from here. All I can offer you is a cup of fairy tea plucked by my own hands, a pitcher of fine wine of my own brewing, some accomplished singers and dancers, and twelve new fairy songs called ‘A Dream of Red Mansions.’ But won’t you come with me?” Forgetting Keqing in his delight, Baoyu followed the goddess to a stone archway inscribed: Illusory Land of Great Void. On either pillar was this couplet:

  When false is taken for true, true becomes false;

  If non-being turns into being, being becomes non-being.

  Beyond this archway was a palace gateway with the inscription in large characters: Sea of Grief and Heaven of Love. The bold couplet flanking this read:

  Firm as earth and lofty as heaven, passion from time immemorial knows no end;

  Pity silly lads and plaintive maids hard put to it to requite debts of breeze and moonlight.

  “Well, well,” thought Baoyu, “I wonder what’s meant by ‘passion from time immemorial’ and ‘debts of breeze and moonlight.’ From now on I’d like to have a taste of these things.”

  Little did he know that by thinking in this way he had summoned an evil spirit into his inmost heart.

  He followed the goddess through the second gate past two matching halls on both sides, each with its tablet and couplet. He had no time to read them all but noticed the names: Board of Infatuation, Board of Jealousy, Board of Morning Tears, Board of Night Sighs, Board of Spring Longing and Board of Autumn Sorrows.

  “May I trouble you, goddess, to show me over these different boards?” he asked.

  “They contain the records of the past and future of girls from all over the world,” she told him. “These may not be divulged in advance to you with your human eyes and mortal frame.”

  But Baoyu would not take no for an answer and at last she yielded to his importunity.

  “Very well then,” she conceded. “You may go in here and have a look round.”

  Baoyu was overjoyed. He looked up and saw on the tablet the name Board of the Ill-Fated. This was flanked by the couplet:

  They brought on themselves spring grief and autumn anguish;

  Wasted, their beauty fair as flowers and moon.

  Grasping the meaning of this and strangely stirred, Baoyu entered and saw more than ten large cabinets, sealed and labelled with the names of different localities. Having no interest in other provinces, he was eager to find his native place and soon discovered one cabinet labelled First Register of Twelve Beauties of Ming. When he asked what this meant, Disenchantment told him:

  “That is a record of the twelve foremost beauties in your honourable province. That’s why it’s called the First Register.”

  “I’ve always heard that Jinling’s a very large place,” replied Baoyu. “Why are there only twelve girls? In our family alone just now, if you count the servants, we must have several hundreds.”

  “True, there are many girls in your honourable province. Only those of the first grade are registered here. The next two cabinets contain records of those in the second and third grade. As for the rest, they are too mediocre for their lives to be worth recording.”

  Baoyu looked at the next two cabinets and saw written on them: Second Register of Twelve Beauties of Jinling and Third Register of Twelve Beauties of Jinling. He opened the door of this last, took out the register and turned to the first page. This was covered by a painting in ink, not of any figures of landscape but of black clouds and heavy mist. Beside this were the lines:

  A clear moon is rarely met with,

  Bright clouds are easily scattered;

  Her heart is loftier than the sky,

  But her person is of low degree.

  Her charm and wit give rise to jealousy,

  Her early death is caused by calumny.

  In vain her loving master’s grief must be.

  On the next page Baoyu saw painted a bunch of flowers and a tattered mat, with the legend:

  Nothing avail her gentleness and compliance,

  Osmanthus and orchid with her fragrance vie;

  But this prize is borne off by an actor,

  And luck passes the young master by.

  Unable to make anything of this, he put the album down, opened the door of another cabinet and took out the Second Register. This opened at a picture of fragrant osmanthus above withered lotus in a dried-up pond. By this was written:

  Sweet is she as the lotus in flower,

  Yet none so sorely oppressed;

  After the growth of a lonely tree in two soils

  Her sweet soul will be dispatched to its final rest.

  Still baffled, Baoyu put this volume aside and
took out the First Register. The first page had a painting of two withered trees on which hung a jade belt, while at the foot of a snowdrift lay a broken golden hairpin. Four lines of verse read:

  Alas for her wifely virtue,

  Her wit to sing of willow-down, poor maid!

  Buried in snow the broken golden hairpin

  And hanging in the wood the belt of jade.

  Baoyu could make nothing of this either. He knew the goddess would not enlighten him, yet he could not bring himself to put the book down. So he turned to a painting of a bow from which was suspended a citron. This bore the legend:

  For twenty years she arbitrates

  Where pomegranates blaze by palace gates.

  How can the late spring equal the spring’s start?

  When Hare and Tiger meet,

  From this Great Dream of life she must depart.

  On the next page was a picture of two people flying a kite, while in a large boat out at sea sat a girl, weeping, covering her face with her hands. With this were the lines:

  So talented and high-minded,

  She is born too late for luck to come her way.

  Through tears she watches the stream

  On the Clear and Bright Day;

  A thousand li the east wind blows, But her home in her dreams is far away.

  Next came a painting of drifting clouds and flowing water with the legend:

  Nought avail her rank and riches,

  While yet in swaddling clothes an orphan lone;

  In a flash she mourns the setting sun.

  The river Xiang runs dry, the clouds over Chu have flown.

  Next was depicted a fine piece of jade dropped in the mud, with the verse:

  Chastity is her wish,

  Seclusion her desire;

  Alas, though fine as gold or jade

  She sinks at last in the mire.

  There followed a sketch of a savage wolf pursuing a lovely girl to devour her. The verdict read:

  For husband she will have a mountain wolf,

  His object gained he ruthlessly berates her;

  Fair bloom, sweet willow in a golden bower,

  Too soon a rude awakening awaits her.

  Next was depicted a seated girl reading a sutra alone in an old temple. This had the legend:

  She sees through the transience of spring,

  Dark Buddhist robes replace her garments fine;

  Pity this child of a wealthy noble house

  Who now sleeps alone by the dimly lit old shrine.

  Next came a female phoenix perched on an iceberg, with the verdict:

  This bird appears when the world falls on evil times;

  None but admires her talents and her skill;

  First she complies, then commands, then is dismissed,

  Departing in tears to Jinling more wretched still.

  After this was a lonely village with a pretty girl spinning in a humble cottage. The inscription read:

  When fortune frowns, nobility means nothing; When a house is ruined, kinsmen turn unkind. Because of help given by chance to Granny Liu, In time of need she is lucky a friend to find. After this was painted a pot of orchids in bloom beside a beauty in ceremonial dress. The legend ran:

  Peach and plum in spring winds finish seeding,

  Who can bloom like the orchid at last?

  Pure as ice and water she arouses envy,

  Vain the groundless taunts that are cast.

  Next came a picture on a beautiful woman hanging herself of a tower, with the verdict:

  Love boundless as sea and sky is but illusion;

  When lovers meet, lust must be king.

  Say not all evil comes from the Rong Mansion,

  Truly, disaster originates from the Ning.

  Baoyu would have read on, but the goddess knowing his high natural endowments and quick intelligence feared the secrets of Heaven might be divulged. She closed the book therefore and said to him with a smile:

  “Why not come with me to enjoy the strange sights here instead of puzzling your head over these silly riddles?”

  As if in a daze he left the registers and followed her past pearl portieres and embroidered curtains, painted pillars and carved beams. Words fail to describe those brilliant vermilion rooms, floors paved with gold, windows bright as snow and palaces of jade, to say nothing of the delectable fairy flowers, rare plants and fragrant herbs.

  As Baoyu was feasting his eyes on these marvellous sights Disenchantment called with a laugh: “Come out quickly and welcome our honoured guest.”

  At once out came several fairies, lotus sleeves swaying, feathery garments fluttering, lovely as spring blossom, entrancing as the autumn moon. At sight of Baoyu they reproached the goddess:

  “So this is your guest! Why should we hurry out to meet him? You told us that today, at this hour, the spirit of Sister Vermilion Pearl would be coming to revisit her old haunts. That’s why we’ve been waiting all this time. Why bring this filthy creature here instead to pollute this domain of immaculate maidens?”

  Baoyu started at that and wished he could slip away, feeling intolerably gross and filthy, but Disenchantment took him by the hand.

  “You don’t understand,” she explained to the fairies. “I did set off to the Rong Mansion today to fetch Vermilion Pearl, but as I was passing the Ning Mansion I met the spirits of the Duke of Ningguo and the Duke of Rongguo who told me, ‘Since the start of this dynasty, for some generations, our family has enjoyed a fine reputation as well as riches and rank. But after a hundred years our good fortune is at an end, gone beyond recall. Although we have many descendants, the only one fit to continue our work is our great-grandson Baoyu. Even though his is headstrong and eccentric, lacking in intelligence, we nonetheless had certain hopes of him. However, our family’s luck has run out and there seemed to be no one to show him the right way. How fortunate we are to have met you, goddess. We beg you to warn him of the dangers of lusting after women, so that he may escape from their snares and set his feet on the right path. Then we two brothers will be happy.’

  “Sympathizing with their request, I fetched him here. To begin with I made him look at the three registers of the girls in his own household. When he failed to understand, I brought him here to taste the illusion of carnal delight so that later he may perchance awaken to the truth.”

  With that she led Baoyu inside. A subtle perfume hung in the air and he could not help asking what incense was being burned.

  “You don’t have this scent in the dusty world so you wouldn’t know it,” Disenchantment told him, smiling. “This is made from the essences of the different exotic young plants which grow in all famous mountain resorts. Distilled with the resin of every precious tree, its name is Marrow of Manifold Fragrance.”

  As Baoyu marvelled at this they took seats and young maids served tea with such a pure scent, exquisite flavour and refreshing quality that again he asked its name.

  “This tea grows in the Grotto of Emanating Fragrance on the Mountain of Expanding Spring,” Disenchantment told him. “Infused with the night dew from fairy flowers and spiritual leaves, its name is Thousand Red Flowers in One Cavern.”

  Nodding in appreciation Baoyu looked round him. He saw jasper lutes, rare bronze tripods, ancient paintings, new volumes of verse—nothing was lacking. But what delighted him most was the rouge by the window and the spilt powder left from a lady’s toilet. On the wall hung this couplet:

  Spiritual, secluded retreat,

  Celestial world of sweet longing.

  Lost in admiration of everything about him, he asked the fairies’ names, they were introduced by their different appellations as Fairy of Amorous Dreams, Great Mistress of Passion, Golden Maid Bringing Grief, and Saint of Transmitted Sorrow.

  Presently little maids brought in tables and chairs and set out wine and refreshments. Verily, glass vessels overflowed with nectar and amber cups brimmed with ambrosia. No need to dwell on the sumptuousness of that feast. He could not resist inquir
ing, though, what gave the wine its remarkably pure bouquet.

  “This wine is made from the stamens of a hundred flowers and the sap of ten thousand trees mixed with the marrow of unicorns and fermented with phoenix milk,” the goddess told him. “We call it Ten Thousand Beauties in One Cup.”

  As Baoyu sipped it, twelve dancing girls stepped forward to ask what they should perform.

  “The twelve new songs called ‘A Dream of Red Mansions,’“ ordered Disenchantment.

  The dancers assented. Lightly striking their sandalwood castanets and softly plucking their silver lyres, they began:

  At the dawn of creation....

  But the goddess interrupted them to tell Baoyu, “This is not like your romantic dramas in the dusty world in which there are always the fixed parts of scholars, girls, warriors, old men and clowns, and the set nine tunes of the south or north. These songs of ours lament one person or event in an impromptu fashion and are easily set to wind or stringed accompaniments. But no outsider can appreciate their subtle qualities, and I doubt whether you will really understand their meaning. Unless you first read the text, they will seem to you as tasteless as chewed wax.”

  With that she turned and ordered a maid to bring the words of the “Dream of Red Mansions” songs. She handed the manuscript to Baoyu, who followed the text as he listened.

  FIRST SONG:

  PROLOGUE TO THE DREAM OF RED MANSIONS

  At the dawn of creation