第四十八回
第四十八回 滥情人情误思游艺 慕雅女雅集苦吟诗
且说薛蟠听见如此说了，气方渐平。三五日后，疼痛虽愈，伤痕未平，只装病在家，愧见亲友。
展眼已到十月，因有各铺面伙计内有算年帐要回家的，少不得家内治酒饯行。内有一个张德辉，年过六十，自幼在薛家当铺内揽总，家内也有二三千金的过活，今岁也要回家，明春方来。因说起，“今年纸札香料短少，明年必是贵的。明年先打发大小儿上来当铺内照管，赶端阳前我顺路贩些纸札香扇来卖。除去关税花销，亦可以剩得几倍利息。”薛蟠听了，心中忖度：“我如今捱了打，正难见人，想着要躲个一年半载，又没处去躲。天天装病，也不是事。况且我长了这么大，文又不文，武又不武，虽说做买卖，究竟戥子[2]算盘从没拿过，地土风俗远近道路又不知道，不如也打点几个本钱，和张德辉逛一年来。赚钱也罢，不赚钱也罢，且躲躲羞去。二则逛逛山水也是好的。”心内主意已定，至酒席散后，便和张德辉说知，命他等一二日一同前往。
晚间薛蟠告诉了他母亲。薛姨妈听了虽是欢喜，但又恐他在外生事，花了本钱倒是末事，因此不命他去。只说：“好歹你守着我，我还能放心些。况且也不用做这买卖，也不等着这几百银子来用。你在家里安分守己的，就强似这几百银子了。”薛蟠主意已定，那里肯依。只说：“天天又说我不知世事，这个也不知，那个也不学。如今我发狠把那些没要紧的都断了，如今要成人立事，学习着做买卖，又不准我了，叫我怎么样呢？我又不是个丫头，把我关在家里，何日是个了日？况且那张德辉又是个年高有德的，咱们和他世交，我同他去，怎么得有舛错？我就一时半刻有不好的去处，他自然说我劝我。就是东西贵贱行情，他是知道的，自然色色问他，何等顺利，倒不叫我去。过两日我不告诉家里，私自打点了一走，明年发了财回家，那时才知道我呢。”说毕，赌气睡觉去了。
薛姨妈听他如此说，因和宝钗商议。宝钗笑道：“哥哥果然要经历正事，正是好的了。只是他在家时说着好听，到了外头，旧病复犯，越发难拘束他了。但也愁不得许多。他若是真改了，是他一生的福。若不改，妈也不能又有别的法子。一半尽人力，一半听天命罢了。这么大人了，若只管怕他不知世路，出不得门，干不得事，今年关在家里，明年还是这个样儿。他既说的名正言顺，妈就打谅着丢了八百一千银子，竟交与他试一试。横竖有伙计们帮着，也未必好意思哄骗他的。二则他出去了，左右没有助兴的人，又没了倚仗的人，到了外头，谁还怕谁，有了的吃，没了的饿着，举眼无靠，他见这样，只怕比在家里省了事也未可知。”薛姨妈听了，思忖半晌说道：“倒是你说的是。花两个钱，叫他学些乖来也值了。”商议已定，一宿无话。
至次日，薛姨妈命人请了张德辉来，在书房中命薛蟠款待酒饭，自己在后廊下，隔着窗子，向里千言万语嘱托张德辉照管薛蟠。张德辉满口应承，吃过饭告辞，又回说：“十四日是上好出行日期，大世兄即刻打点行李，雇下骡子，十四一早就长行了。”薛蟠喜之不尽，将此话告诉了薛姨妈。薛姨妈便和宝钗香菱并两个老年的嬷嬷连日打点行装，派下薛蟠之乳父老苍头一名，当年谙事旧仆二名，外有薛蟠随身常使小厮二人，主仆一共六人，雇了三辆大车，单拉行李使物，又雇了四个长行骡子。薛蟠自骑一匹家内养的铁青大走骡，外备一匹坐马。诸事完毕，薛姨妈宝钗等连夜劝戒之言，自不必备说。
至十三日，薛蟠先去辞了他舅舅，然后过来辞了贾宅诸人。贾珍等未免又有饯行之说，也不必细述。至十四日一早，薛姨妈宝钗等直同薛蟠出了仪门，母女两个四只泪眼看他去了，方回来。
薛姨妈上京带来的家人不过四五房，并两三个老嬷嬷小丫头，今跟了薛蟠一去，外面只剩了一两个男子。因此薛姨妈即日到书房，将一应陈设玩器并帘幔等物尽行搬了进来收贮，命那两个跟去的男子之妻一并也进来睡觉。又命香菱将他屋里也收拾严紧，“将门锁了，晚间和我去睡。”宝钗道：“妈既有这些人〔一〕作伴，不如叫菱姐姐和我作伴去。我们园里又空，夜长了，我每夜作活，越多一个人岂不越好。”薛姨妈听了，笑道：“正是我忘了，原该叫他同你去才是。我前日还同你哥哥说，文杏又小，道三不着两，莺儿一个人不够服侍的，还要买一个丫头来你使。”宝钗道：“买的不知底里，倘或走了眼，花了钱小事，没的淘气。倒是慢慢的打听着，有知道来历的，买个还罢了。”一面说，一面命香菱收拾了衾褥妆奁，命一个老嬷嬷并臻儿送至蘅芜苑去，然后宝钗和香菱才同回园中来。
香菱道：“我原要和奶奶说的，大爷去了，我和姑娘作伴儿去〔二〕。又恐怕奶奶多心，说我贪着园里来顽；谁知你竟说了。”宝钗笑道：“我知道你心里羡慕这园子不是一日两日了，只是没个空儿。就每日来一趟，慌慌张张的，也没趣儿。所以趁着机会，越性住上一年，我也多个作伴的，你也遂了心。”香菱笑道：“好姑娘，你趁着这个工夫，教给我作诗罢。”宝钗笑道：“我说你‘得陇望蜀’[5]呢。我劝你今儿头一日进来，先出园东角门，从老太太起，各处各人你都瞧瞧，问候一声儿，也不必特意告诉他们说搬进园来。若有提起因由，你只带口说我带了你进来作伴儿就完了。回来进了园，再到各姑娘房里走走。”
香菱应着才要走时，只见平儿忙忙的走来。香菱忙问了好，平儿只得陪笑相问。宝钗因向平儿笑道：“我今儿带了他来作伴儿，正要去回你奶奶一声儿。”平儿笑道：“姑娘说的是那里话？我竟没话答言了。”宝钗道：“这才是正理。店房也有个主人，庙里也有个住持。虽不是大事，到底告诉一声，便是园里坐更上夜的人知道添了他两个，也好关门候户的了。你回去告诉一声罢，我不打发人去了。”平儿答应着，因又向香菱笑道：“你既来了，也不拜一拜街坊邻舍去？”宝钗笑道：“我正叫他去呢。”平儿道：“你且不必往我们家去，二爷病了在家里呢。”香菱答应着去了，先从贾母处来，不在话下。
且说平儿见香菱去了，便拉宝钗忙说道：“姑娘可听见我们的新闻了？”宝钗道：“我没听见新闻。因连日打发我哥哥出门，所以你们这里的事，一概也不知道，连姊妹们这两日也没见。”平儿笑道：“老爷把二爷打了个动不得，难道姑娘就没听见？”宝钗道：“早起恍惚听见了一句，也信不真。我也正要瞧你奶奶去呢，不想你来了。又是为了什么打他？”
平儿咬牙骂道：“都是那贾雨村什么风村，半路途中那里来的饿不死的野杂种！认了不到十年，生了多少事出来！今年春天，老爷不知在那个地方看见了几把旧扇子，回家看家里所有收着的这些好扇子都不中用了，立刻叫人各处搜求。谁知就有一个不知死的冤家，混号儿世人叫他作石呆子，穷的连饭也没的吃，偏他家就有二十把旧扇子，死也不肯拿出大门来。二爷好容易烦了多少情，见了这个人，说之再三，把二爷请到他家里坐着，拿出这扇子略瞧了一瞧。据二爷说，原是不能再有的，全是湘妃、棕竹、麋鹿、玉竹[6]的，皆是古人写画真迹，因来告诉了老爷。老爷便叫买他的，要多少银子给他多少。偏那石呆子说：‘我饿死冻死，一千两银子一把我也不卖！’老爷没法子，天天骂二爷没能为。已经许了他五百两，先兑银子后拿扇子。他只是不卖，只说：‘要扇子，先要我的命！’姑娘想想，这有什么法子？谁知雨村那没天理的听见了，便设了个法子，讹他拖欠了官银，拿他到衙门里去，说所欠官银，变卖家产赔补，把这扇子抄了来，作了官价送了来。那石呆子如今不知是死是活。老爷拿着扇子问着二爷说：‘人家怎么弄了来？’二爷只说了一句：‘为这点子小事，弄得人坑家败业，也不算什么能为！’老爷听了就生了气，说二爷拿话堵老爷，因此这是第一件大的。这几日还有几件小的，我也记不清，所以都凑在一处，就打起来了。也没拉倒用板子棍子，就站着，不知拿什么混打一顿，脸上打破了两处。我们听见姨太太这里有一种丸药，上棒疮的，姑娘快寻一丸子给我。”宝钗听了，忙命莺儿去要了一丸来与平儿。宝钗道：“既这样，替我问候罢，我就不去了。”平儿答应着去了，不在话下。
且说香菱见过众人之后，吃过晚饭，宝钗等都往贾母处去了，自己便往潇湘馆中来。此时黛玉已好了大半，见香菱也进园来住，自是欢喜。香菱因笑道：“我这一进来了，也得了空儿，好歹教给我作诗，就是我的造化了。”黛玉笑道：“既要作诗，你就拜我作师。我虽不通，大略也还教得起你。”香菱笑道：“果然这样，我就拜你作师。你可不许腻烦的。”
黛玉道：“什么难事，也值得去学！不过是起承转合[7]，当中承转是两副对子，平声对仄声，虚的对实的，实的对虚的[8]，若是果有了奇句，连平仄虚实不对都使得的。”香菱笑道：“怪道我常弄一本旧诗偷空儿看一两首，又有对的极工的，又有不对的，又听见说‘一三五不论，二四六分明’[9]。看古人的诗上亦有顺的，亦有二四六上错了的，所以天天疑惑。如今听你一说，原来这些格调规矩竟是末事，只要词句新奇为上。”黛玉道：“正是这个道理。词句究竟还是末事，第一立意要紧。若意趣真了，连词句不用修饰，自是好的，这叫做‘不以词害意’[10]。”
香菱笑道：“我只爱陆放翁的诗‘重帘不卷留香久，古砚微凹聚墨多’[11]，说的真有趣！”黛玉道：“断不可看这样的诗。你们因不知诗，所以见了这浅近的就爱，一入了这个格局，再学不出来的。你只听我说，你若真心要学，我这里有《王摩诘[12]全集》，你且把他的五言律[13]读一百首，细心揣摩透熟了，然后再读一二百首老杜[14]的七言律，次再李青莲[15]的七言绝句[16]读一二百首。肚子里先有了这三个人作了底子，然后再把陶渊明、应、谢、阮、庾、鲍[17]等人的一看。你又是一个极聪敏伶俐的人，不用一年的工夫，不愁不是诗翁了！”香菱听了，笑道：“既这样，好姑娘，你就把这书给我拿出来，我带回去，夜里念几首也是好的。”
黛玉听说，便命紫鹃将王右丞的五言律拿来，递与香菱，又道：“你只看有红圈的都是我选的，有一首念一首。不明白的问你姑娘，或者遇见我，我讲与你就是了。”香菱拿了诗，回至蘅芜苑中，诸事不顾，只向灯下一首一首的读起来。宝钗连催他数次睡觉，他也不睡。宝钗见他这般苦心，只得随他去了。
一日，黛玉方梳洗完了，只见香菱笑吟吟的送了书来，又要换杜律[18]。黛玉笑道：“共记得多少首？”香菱笑道：“凡红圈选的我尽读了。”黛玉道：“可领略了些滋味没有？”香菱笑道：“领略了些滋味，不知可是不是，说与你听听。”黛玉笑道：“正要讲究讨论，方能长进。你且说来我听。”
香菱笑道：“据我看来，诗的好处，有口里说不出来的意思，想去却是逼真的。有似乎无理的，想去竟是有理有情的。”黛玉笑道：“这话有了些意思，但不知你从何处见得？”香菱笑道：“我看他《塞上》一首[19]，那一联云：‘大漠孤烟直，长河落日圆。’想来烟如何直？日自然是圆的。这‘直’字似无理，‘圆’字似太俗。合上书一想，倒像是见了这景的。若说再找两个字换这两个，竟再找不出两个字来。再还有‘日落江湖白，潮来天地青’[20]，这‘白’‘青’两个字也似无理。想来，必得这两个字才形容得尽，念在嘴里倒像有几千斤重的一个橄榄。还有‘渡头馀落日，墟里上孤烟’[21]，这‘馀’字和‘上’字，难为他怎么想来！我们那年上京来，那日下晚便湾住船，岸上又没有人，只有几棵树，远远的几家人家作晚饭，那个烟竟是碧青，连云直上。谁知我昨日晚上读了这两句，倒像我又到了那个地方去了。”
正说着，宝玉和探春也来了，也都入坐听他讲诗。宝玉笑道：“既是这样，也不用看诗。会心处不在多，听你说了这两句，可知‘三昧’[22]你已得了。”黛玉笑道：“你说他这‘上孤烟’好，你还不知他这一句还是套了前人来的。我给你这一句瞧瞧，更比这个淡而现成。”说着便把陶渊明的“暧暧远人村，依依墟里烟”[23]翻了出来，递与香菱。香菱瞧了，点头叹赏，笑道：“原来‘上’字是从‘依依’两个字上化出来的。”宝玉大笑道：“你已得了，不用再讲，越发倒学杂了。你就作起来，必是好的。”探春笑道：“明儿我补一个柬来，请你入社。”香菱笑道：“姑娘何苦打趣我，我不过是心里羡慕，才学着顽罢了。”
探春黛玉都笑道：“谁不是顽？难道我们是认真作诗呢！若说我们认真成了诗，出了这园子，把人的牙还笑倒了呢。”宝玉道：“这也算自暴自弃了。前日我在外头和相公们商议画儿〔三〕，他们听见咱们起诗社，求我把稿子给他们瞧瞧。我就写了几首给他们看看，谁不真心叹服。他们都抄了刻去了。”探春黛玉忙问道：“这是真话么？”宝玉笑道：“说谎的是那架上的鹦哥。”黛玉探春听说，都道：“你真真胡闹！且别说那不成诗，便是成诗，我们的笔墨[25]也不该传到外头去。”宝玉道：“这怕什么！古来闺阁中的笔墨不要传出去，如今也没有人知道了。”说着，只见惜春打发了入画来请宝玉，宝玉方去了。
香菱又逼着黛玉换出杜律来，又央黛玉探春二人：“出个题目，让我诌去，诌了来，替我改正。”黛玉道：“昨夜的月最好，我正要诌一首，竟未诌成，你竟作一首来。十四寒[26]的韵，由你爱用那几个字去。”
香菱听了，喜的拿回诗来，又苦思一回作两句诗，又舍不得杜诗，又读两首。如此茶饭无心，坐卧不定。宝钗道：“何苦自寻烦恼。都是颦儿引的你，我和他算帐去。你本来呆头呆脑的，再添上这个，越发弄成个呆子了。”香菱笑道：“好姑娘，别混我。”一面说，一面作了一首，先与宝钗看。宝钗〔四〕看了笑道：“这个不好，不是这个作法。你别怕臊，只管拿了给他瞧去，看他是怎么说。”香菱听了，便拿了诗找黛玉。
黛玉看时，只见写道是：
月挂中天夜色寒，清光皎皎影团团。
诗人助兴常思玩，野客添愁不忍观。
翡翠楼边悬玉镜，珍珠帘外挂冰盘。
良宵何用烧银烛，晴彩辉煌映画栏。
黛玉笑道：“意思却有，只是措词不雅。皆因你看的诗少，被他缚住了。把这首丢开，再作一首，只管放开胆子去作。”
香菱听了，默默的回来，越性连房也不入，只在池边树下，或坐在山石上出神，或蹲在地下抠土，来往的人都诧异。李纨、宝钗、探春、宝玉等听得此信，都远远的站在山坡上瞧着他。只见他皱一回眉，又自己含笑一回。
宝钗笑道：“这个人定要疯了！昨夜嘟嘟哝哝直闹到五更天才睡下，没一顿饭的工夫天就亮了。我就听见他起来了，忙忙碌碌梳了头就找颦儿去。一回来了，呆了一日，作了一首又不好，这会子自然另作呢。”宝玉笑道：“这正是‘地灵人杰’[28]，老天生人再不虚赋情性的。我们成日叹说可惜他这么个人竟俗了，谁知到底有今日。可见天地至公。”宝钗笑道：“你能够像他这苦心就好了，学什么有个不成的。”宝玉不答。
只见香菱兴兴头头的又往黛玉那边去了。探春笑道：“咱们跟了去，看他有些意思没有。”说着，一齐都往潇湘馆来。只见黛玉正拿着诗和他讲究。众人因问黛玉作的如何。黛玉道：“自然算难为他了，只是还不好。这一首过于穿凿了，还得另作。”
众人因要诗看时，只见作道：
非银非水映窗寒，试看晴空护玉盘。
淡淡梅花香欲染，丝丝柳带露初干。
只疑残粉涂金砌，恍若轻霜抹玉栏。
梦醒西楼人迹绝，馀容犹可隔帘看。
宝钗笑道：“不像吟月了，月字底下添一个‘色’字倒还使得，你看句句倒是月色。这也罢了，原来诗从胡说来，再迟几天就好了。”
香菱自为这首妙绝，听如此说，自己扫了兴，不肯丢开手，便要思索起来。因见他姊妹们说笑，便自己走至阶前竹下闲步，挖心搜胆，耳不旁听，目不别视。一时探春隔窗笑说道：“菱姑娘〔五〕，你闲闲罢。”香菱怔怔〔六〕答道：“‘闲’字是十五删的，你错了韵了。”众人听了，不觉大笑起来。宝钗道：“可真是诗魔了。都是颦儿引的他！”黛玉道：“圣人说‘诲人不倦’，他又来问我，我岂有不说之理。”李纨笑道：“咱们拉了他往四姑娘房里去，引他瞧瞧画儿，叫他醒一醒才好。”
说着，真个出来拉了他过藕香榭，至暖香坞中。惜春正乏倦，在床上歪着睡午觉，画缯[31]立在壁间，用纱罩着。众人唤醒了惜春，揭纱看时，十停方有了三停。香菱见画上有几个美人，因指着笑道：“这一个是我们姑娘，那一个是林姑娘。”探春笑道：“凡会作诗的都画在上头，快学罢。”说着，顽笑了一回。
各自散后，香菱满心中还是想诗。至晚间对灯出了一回神，至三更以后上床卧下，两眼鳏鳏[32]，直到五更方才朦胧睡去了。一时天亮，宝钗醒了，听了一听，他安稳睡了，心下想：“他翻腾了一夜，不知可作成了？这会子乏了，且别叫他。”正想着，只听香菱从梦中笑道：“可是有了，难道这一首还不好？”宝钗听了，又是可叹，又是可笑，连忙唤醒了他，问他：“得了什么？你这诚心都通了仙了。学不成诗，还弄出病来呢。”一面说，一面梳洗了，会同姊妹往贾母处来。
原来香菱苦志学诗，精血诚聚，日间做不出，忽于梦中得了八句。梳洗已毕，便忙录出来，自己并不知好歹，便拿来又找黛玉。刚到沁芳亭，只见李纨与众姊妹方从王夫人处回来，宝钗正告诉他们说他梦中作诗说梦话。众人正笑，抬头见他来了，便都争着要诗看。且听下回分解。
[1] 游艺——《论语·述而》：“游于艺。”指沉潜于六艺之教，后亦泛指从事技术或艺术的锻炼。
[2] 戥（děnɡ等）子——一种称量金银、药品等所用的小秤，计量单位从分厘到两。
〔一〕 “人”字原无，从各本补。
〔二〕 “我原要和奶奶说的，大爷去了，我和姑娘作伴儿去”，原仅作“我久要和姑娘作伴儿去”，从蒙府、戚序本增改。
[5] 得陇望蜀——《后汉书·岑彭传》：“人苦不知足，既平陇（陇西，古郡名，在今甘肃省），复望蜀（古郡名，今四川）。”后以喻人之贪得无厌。
[6] 湘妃、棕竹、麋鹿、玉竹——四种名贵的竹子，纹理美观，可以制做扇骨。湘妃：指湘妃竹，又称斑竹。产于湖南、广西，竹上有紫色斑点。传说舜帝南巡，死于苍梧，其妃湘夫人追至，哭甚哀，以泪挥竹，故竹上斑点若泪痕。见晋代张华《博物志》。棕竹：元代刘美之《续竹谱》：“棕竹，蜀中多有之；皮叶皆似棕，亦谓之桃花竹。”麋鹿：是一种表皮像麋鹿角纹的竹子。玉竹：《群芳谱》：“玉竹，青黄相间。”
[7] 起承转合——旧体诗文章法结构的术语。起：开端。承：承接上文进一步加以申述。转：转折，从另一方面论述主题。合：全文结语。
[8] 平仄虚实——平仄：汉字读音有四种声调，即平、上、去、入。平又分阴平、阳平；上、去、入三声，属于仄声。格律诗每句每字的声调有规定的平仄格式，一般以平声对仄声。虚实：律诗共八句，中间四句规定为两副对子（也称对仗），要按照词性的虚实相对，虚词对虚词，实词对实词。这里林黛玉说：“虚的对实的，实的对虚的”，可能是作者或传抄中的笔误。
[9] 一三五不论，二四六分明——格律诗对平仄声的规定，每句的第一、三、五字要求的较宽，平仄皆可，可以不论（第五字一般也是不宜违律的）；第二、四、六字则要求较严，平仄必须依律。但这只是初学诗的一种入门歌诀，其实并非完全这样，第一、三、五字能否调换平仄声，也是有许多具体条件限制的。
[10] 不以词害意——这是说作诗要以“意”（内容）为先，文辞格律次之，不要因过分注重辞采形式而损害了内容。
[11] “重帘不卷”二句——宋代陆游《书室明暖，终日婆娑其间，倦则扶杖至小园，戏作长句》之二中的句子。重帘：一重一重的帘幕。
[12] 王摩诘——唐代诗人王维，字摩诘。唐肃宗时官尚书右丞，人称王右丞。
[13] 五言律、七言律——律：是律诗的简称，每首八句，中间四句为“对仗”。每句五字的叫五言律；每句七字的叫七言律。超过八句的律诗，叫排律。
[14] 老杜——指盛唐时期大诗人杜甫，为了区别于稍后的晚唐诗人杜牧，故世称杜甫为“老杜”，杜牧为“小杜”。
[15] 李青莲——即唐代大诗人李白，幼时曾随父迁居四川绵州彰明县（今四川江油县）青莲乡，自号青莲居士。
[16] 七言绝句——七言：每句七个字。绝句：每首四句的格律诗。
[17] 应、谢、阮、庾、鲍——应：字德琏，东汉末年诗人，“建安七子”之一。谢：指南朝宋诗人谢灵运。阮：指三国时魏诗人阮籍，字嗣宗，“竹林七贤”之一。庾：指北朝周诗人庾信，字子山。鲍：指南朝宋诗人鲍照，字明远。
[18] 杜律——指杜甫的律诗。
[19] 《塞上》一首——指王维《使至塞上》一诗。
[20] “日落”二句——见王维《送邢桂州》。白：指日落时江湖上的茫茫白光。青：指潮来时天地间的苍莽昏暗。
[21] “渡头”二句——王维《辋川闲居赠裴秀才迪》中诗句。墟里：村落。
[22] 三昧——佛教用语。本意是心神专一，杂念止息，是佛家修持的重要方法之一。后借指事物的奥秘和精义。
[23] “暧暧”二句——陶渊明《归田园居五首》之一中诗句。暧暧：昏暗模糊的样子。依依：隐约可见的样子。
〔三〕 “画儿”，原作“话儿”，从各本改。
[25] 笔墨——在这里代指诗文作品。
[26] 十四寒——诗韵中上平声第十四部以“寒”字开头的韵目，称为十四寒。后面“十五删”则是上平声第十五部以“删”字开头的韵目。
〔四〕 “看。宝钗”，原无，从蒙府、戚序本补。
[28] 地灵人杰——意为山川灵秀，必然孕育杰出人物。
〔五〕 “菱姑娘”，原无，从各本补。
〔六〕 “怔怔”，原无，从各本补。
[31] 画缯（zēnɡ增）——绘画用的绢。此指经矾过的重绢绷张竖立的画稿。缯：古代对丝织品的统称。
[32] 鳏（ɡuān关）鳏——鳏：一种大鱼，其性独行。其字从鱼，鱼目常睁不闭，故常用“鳏鳏”形容忧愁失眠的样子。
CHAPTER 48. The Love Deluded One turns his thoughts to trade and travel And the Poetry Enthusiast applies herself to making verses
XUE PAN gradually calmed down when his mother told him that Xiang-lian had fled.
After four or five days the pain of his injuries had subsided, but not the bumps and bruises; and as, while these still disfigured him, he was unwilling to meet any of his acquaintance, he kept to his room on the pretext that he was still too ill to go out.
The tenth month soon came. Several of the employees working in Xue Pan’s shops in the capital wanted to go back home for the annual settling of accounts and Xue Pan found himself giving a farewell party for them in his room. Among those present was one Zhang De-hui, the sixty-year-old manager of his largest pawnshop. He had worked with the family since he was a lad and now had a household of his own and an income of two or three thousand taels. He was planning to leave with the others but not return until half way through the following year, as he explained to Xue Pan on this occasion.
‘There’s a great shortage of stationery and perfumed goods just now,’ he said. ‘These things are sure to fetch high prices next year. I’m proposing to send my eldest boy here after New Year to look after the shop, so that I can travel back later. I shall buy up supplies of stationery and sandalwood fans on my way, aiming to get back here in time for the Double Fifth. I reckon it should be possible to make several hundred percent profit, even after the excise and all the other expenses have been deducted.’
This gave Xue Pan an idea.
‘I haven’t felt like seeing anyone since that beating,’ he thought, ‘and some excuse for getting away from everybody for a year or so is just what I’ve been looking for. Obviously I can’t go on staying indoors and pretending I’m ill indefinitely. And for another thing, I haven’t done very much with my life to date: I’m neither a scholar nor a soldier, and though I call myself a merchant, I’ve never handled a pair of scales or an abacus in my life, not to mention the fact that I know nothing about the places and peoples of the Empire or its roads and waterways. Why don’t I get a bit of capital together and spend a year or so travelling around with Zhang De-hui? It won’t matter much whether I make any money or not; the main thing is that it will get me away from my disgrace; and there is the added advantage that I shall be able to put in a bit of sight-seeing as well.’
Having so decided, he waited until the other guests had gone and then, making himself as agreeable as he knew how, informed Zhang De-hui of his decision and asked him to delay his departure by a few days so that he would have time to prepare.
That evening he told his mother.
Aunt Xue’s initial reaction was one of pleasure, but this quickly gave way to misgivings. It was not that she attached much importance to the loss of a little capital; she was concerned about the scrapes he might get into away from home. And so she ended up by refusing.
‘I think you’d better stay here with me. I should worry less. After all, you don’t need to make this money. It isn’t as if you haven’t got enough to spend.’
But Xue Pan had made his mind up and was not to be put off.
‘You’re always telling me how inexperienced I am and how ignorant and how unwilling to learn; yet now that I’m making a real effort to turn over a new leaf by standing on my own feet at last and learning a bit about the business, you won’t let me. What do you want me to do? I’m not a girl, to be shut up at home all the time: you’ll have to let me out some time or other. Besides, Zhang De-hui is an old, experienced person and he’s worked for our family all his life. If I’m with him, I don’t see how anything can go wrong. Even if I did ever slip up, I’m sure he’d soon tell me off about it and put me right. And as he knows all there is to know about prices and so forth, I should naturally always consult him on business matters. You couldn’t ask for better conditions; yet you won’t let me go. Very well, I’ll get ready in secret and leave without telling you. You’ll see me when I come back next year, after making a fortune! I’ll show you!’
With that he went off to bed in a huff.
Aunt Xue discussed the matter with Bao-chai after he had gone.
‘It’s good that he should want to occupy himself with something serious at last,’ said Bao-chai. ‘The trouble is, of course, that however fair-sounding his intentions may be now, once he’s outside he may succumb to his old weaknesses again, and then it will be that much more difficult to control him. However, I suppose that is a risk one has to take. If he is really going to reform, then this experience may prove a lifelong blessing. If he is not, I don’t see that there is very much left that you can do. After all, there is only so much one can do for another person: the rest must be left to Heaven. Pan is a grown man now, Mamma. If you maintain that he is too ignorant of the world to be allowed out into it, you are not going to make him any less ignorant by keeping him shut up indoors. And since he is being so reasonable for once, I should make up your mind that you are going to lose eight or nine hundred taels and hand it over to him to see how he manages. After all, he will have someone from our own business helping him and they may well feel some compunction about cheating him; so it’s by no means a foregone conclusion that he will lose it all. And for another thing, away from home there won’t be those worthless companions of his to egg him on; nor, on the other hand, will he have anyone to fall back on if he gets into trouble. He will have to fend for himself: eat when he can and go hungry when he can’t. And when it dawns on him that he is on his own and has no one he can lean on, he may begin to behave a bit better. Surely it’s worth trying?’
Aunt Xue pondered her daughter’s words for some minutes.
‘I think you are probably right,’ she said eventually. ‘I certainly don’t mind using up some of our money on the experiment. If he can learn a bit of sense from it, it will have been money well spent.’
Having thus concluded their discussion, the two of them went to bed.
Next day Aunt Xue had Zhang De-hui invited round once more, and while he was being entertained by Xue Pan in the study, stationed herself in the loggia at the back and, addressing him through the window from this hidden vantage point, entrusted her boy, with many a fond and careful instruction, to his care. Zhang De-hui gave vigorous assurances of good intent, and having finished his meal, stood up and took his leave, stopping on his way out to add a few words to Xue Pan about arrangements for their departure:
‘The almanac says the fourteenth is the best day for travelling. I should start packing and hiring mules straight away if I were you, Mr Xue, so that we can make a start first thing on the fourteenth.’
Xue Pan, delighted at the prospect of getting away so soon, hastened to relay this to his mother.
Assisted by Bao-chai, Caltrop and a couple of old nannies, Aunt Xue devoted the whole of the next few days to packing. She selected five male members of the domestic staff to accompany Xue Pan on his travels: the husband of his old wet-nurse, two experienced older servants who had been in service with his father, and two of the pages who normally waited on him. Three heavy carts were hired for the luggage and four travelling-mules. Xue Pan himself planned to ride on a mule from his own stables – a large, sturdy animal with an iron-grey coat. He also planned to take a saddle-horse of his own as an alternative mount. When all other preparations had been completed, Aunt Xue and Bao-chai devoted the remaining evenings to exhortation and admonishment of the prospective traveller.
On the thirteenth Xue Pan went to take leave of his Uncle Wang’s family in the city, after which he went round the two mansions saying his good-byes to the Jias. There was some talk of Cousin Zhen and one or two of the others seeing him off next day for a parting cup on the road; but whether or not anything came of it our narrative does not disclose.
Early on the morning of the fourteenth Aunt Xue and Bao-chai accompanied him to the outer threshold of the inner gate and watched him with tearful eyes until they could see him no more.
When Aunt Xue moved from Nanking to the capital, she had brought only four or five couples with her in addition to the handful of old nannies and young unmarried maids of her immediate household. Now that five of the menfolk had gone off to accompany Xue Pan on his travels, only one or two male servants were left. The very day that Xue Pan started on his journey, Aunt Xue went into his study, had all the small furniture, blinds, curtains and other movables carried out and stored in her own apartment, and ordered the wives of the absent menservants to move in with her to sleep. She also ordered Caltrop to tidy up Xue Pan’s sleeping quarters, lock the door, and move into her apartment with the rest.
‘But Mamma,’ Bao-chai protested, ‘you’ve already got all those others to keep you company. Why not let Caltrop move in with me? It gets lonely in the Garden now that the nights are longer: another companion to sit with me in the evenings when I am sewing would be very welcome.’
‘Of course,’ said Aunt Xue. ‘I was forgetting. I should have thought of it myself. I was telling Pan only the other day: Apricot is so young and scatter-brained and Oriole on her own really isn’t enough for you. We really ought to buy you another girl.’
‘Buying is all very well if you know what the girl is going to be like,’ said Bao-chai; ‘but if you make a bad choice, then not only have you wasted your money – that’s a small consideration – but you have a very great deal of trouble on your hands. If we are going to buy a girl, it would be much better to take our time over the inquiries and not get one until we are quite sure about her background.’
She told Caltrop to get her bedding and toilet things together and ordered Advent and one of the old nannies to carry them for her to Allspice Court. Then she and Caltrop went into the Garden together.
‘I was dying to ask the Mistress if she would let me move in with you after Mr Xue had gone,’ said Caltrop, ‘but I was afraid she might think I only wanted to get into the Garden to play. How wonderful that you should have asked her for me!’
‘I knew you’d had your heart set on this Garden for some time past,’ said Bao-chai with a smile, ‘but you haven’t really been free till now. Dashing in and out for a few minutes each day wouldn’t have given you time to enjoy it properly. That’s why I have waited for this opportunity before asking. Now you will be able to settle in and spend a whole year here. You get your wish, you see, and I gain a companion!’
‘Dear Miss!’ said Caltrop. ‘Now that there is the time and the opportunity, will you teach me how to write poetry, please?’
Bao-chai laughed.
‘You’re like the famous general: “one conquest breeds appetite for another”. I advise you to take things more gently. Today is your first day in the Garden. If I were you, I should go out of that corner gate and, beginning with Lady Jia’s, call in at all the different apartments and pay your respects to everybody. You needn’t go out of your way to tell them that you have moved into the Garden; but if the subject should happen to arise, tell them that I have brought you in as my companion. After that, when you get back into the Garden, you ought to go round and call on all the young ladies.’
Caltrop was just going off to do as Bao-chai advised, when Patience came hurrying in. She was in a state of some agitation, which she smilingly masked, however, in response to Caltrop’s eager greetings.
‘I’m bringing her in here to live with me as my companion,’ Bao-chai explained. ‘I was just about to report the matter to your mistress.’
‘You don’t need to do that, Miss!’ said Patience. ‘Whatever next?’
‘On the contrary,’ said Bao-chai. ‘It’s the correct thing to do. “Every inn has its landlord and every temple its priest,” as they say. Even though it is not a very important matter, I think I should report it, if only so that the women on night-watch may know that there are two more girls – her and Advent – living in the Garden now, and make no difficulties about letting them in and out. Anyway, if you will tell your mistress when you get back, I won’t bother to send anyone about it myself.’
Patience promised that she would.
‘Now you’re here,’ she said to Caltrop, ‘you ought to go and introduce yourself to your new neighbours.’
‘I was just sending her off to do that when you came,’ said Bao-chai.
‘Well, you can leave us out,’ Patience told Caltrop. ‘Mr Lian is ill at home in bed.’
Caltrop murmured a reply and went off to make her calls, beginning with Grandmother Jia.
As soon as she had gone, Patience seized Bao-chai’s hand and asked her, in a low and urgent voice, whether she had heard ‘their’ news.
‘No,’ said Bao-chai. ‘I’ve been so busy these last few days helping to get Pan off that I haven’t heard anyone’s news. I haven’t even seen any of the girls during the past day or two.’
‘Sir She has beaten Mr Lian so badly that he can hardly move. Do you mean to say you haven’t even heard that?’
‘I heard something to that effect,’ said Bao-chai, ‘but I didn’t know whether to believe it or not. I’d been thinking of going to ask your mistress about it when you came in just now. What did he beat him for?’
‘It was that toad Jia Yu-cun’s doing,’ said Patience bitterly. ‘Horrible man! It was a bad day for this family when they got to know him. I don’t know how much trouble he hasn’t stirred up in the few years since first he came here. Last spring Sir She saw some antique fans somewhere which so impressed him that when he got home and looked at his own collection he decided that they were all no good and at once sent everyone scouring around for some more. Now there was a certain poor, unlucky devil they call “Stony” – that’s a nickname, of course: I don’t know what his real name is – so hard up that he never had enough to eat but who, it so happened, was the owner of a collection of twenty antique fans that he guarded very closely, not even allowing them to be taken out of his door. Mr Lian had a terrible job even getting to see this man. In the end he did though, and eventually, after a great deal of persuasion, managed to get himself invited into the house to have a look at the fans. Mr Lian said he was only allowed a glimpse of them even then, but he said you could see at once that they were the kind of fans that simply can’t be had anywhere today. The fansticks were made of very special kinds of bamboo – naiad’s tears, black bamboo, fawnskin and jadewood – and the paintings on them were all by old masters. When he told Sir She about them, Sir She said at once that come what may he must have them and that Stony could name his price. But Stony didn’t want a price – not if they offered him a thousand taels a fan, he said. He said he would rather die of hunger and cold than sell them. There was nothing Sir She could do about that, of course, except swear all the time at Mr Lian for being “incompetent”. But I ask you, Miss: Mr Lian had already promised five hundred taels cash down and still old Stony had refused, so what more was there he could do? The matter might have rested there if that black-hearted villain Jia Yu-cun hadn’t got to hear about it. He soon thought of a way. He made out that Stony owed the government some money, had him hauled off to the yamen, and when he got there, told him they would have to distrain on his property to pay off the debt. Then he sent his officers round to Stony’s house, seized the fans, valued them at a government price, and sent them to Sir She as a present. Poor old Stony! I don’t know whether he’s alive now or dead. What I do know is that when Sir She was telling Mr Lian how he had come by the fans at last, Mr Lian couldn’t help remarking that he didn’t see anything very “competent” about ruining a man and stripping him of all he possessed for so trifling a reason. That made Sir She very angry, because of course he assumed that Mr Lian was really getting at him. That was the main reason for the beating; but then there were a number of smaller things a few days later – I don’t even remember now what they were. They seem to have brought things to a head, because he suddenly went for him. He didn’t pull him down and beat him with a flat-stick or a cudgel in the normal way either: he just picked up the first thing that came to hand – I don’t know what it was – and started hitting him with it where he stood. He cut his face open in two places. We heard that Mrs Xue has got some kind of lotion for injuries of this sort and I wondered if you’d mind letting me have a tablet.’
Bao-chai at once sent Oriole for the tablets and told her to bring two of them.
I won’t go and see your mistress now, under the circumstances,’ she said, when she handed them to Patience. ‘Give her my regards, though, won’t you?’
Patience thanked her and left.
Our story returns now to Caltrop. After dinner, by which time she had finished making her calls, while Bao-chai went to join Bao-yu and the others in Grandmother Jia’s apartment, Caltrop went off on her own to visit the Naiad’s House.
Dai-yu was by this time well on the way to recovery. She seemed so delighted to hear that Caltrop had moved into the Garden, that Caltrop felt emboldened to make her a request:
‘Now that I’m here and have got more time to spare, do you think you could teach me to write poetry? It would be such a piece of luck for me if you would.’
‘You can make your kotow and become my pupil if you like,’ said Dai-yu goodnaturedly. ‘I’m no expert myself, but I dare say I could teach you the rudiments.’
‘Would you really?’ said Caltrop. ‘Then I’ll be your disciple. But you must promise not to get impatient with me.’
‘There’s nothing in it really,’ said Dai-yu. ‘There’s really hardly anything to learn. In Regulated Verse there are always four couplets: the “opening couplet”, the “developing couplet”, the “turning couplet” and the “concluding couplet“. In the two middle couplets, the “developing” and “turning” ones, you have to have tone-contrast and parallelism. That’s to say, in each of those couplets the even tones of one line have to contrast with oblique tones in the other, and vice versa, and the substantives and non-substantives have to balance each other – though if you’ve got a really good, original line, it doesn’t matter all that much even if the tone-contrast and parallelism are wrong.’
‘Ah, that explains it!’ said Caltrop, pleased. ‘I’ve got an old poetry-book that I look at once in a while when I can find the time, and I long ago noticed that in some of the poems the tone-contrast is very strict, while in others it’s not. Someone told me the rhyme:
For one, three and five You need not strive; But two, four and six You must firmly fix.
and at first that seemed to explain the exceptions. But then I found that in some old poems even the second, fourth and sixth syllables seemed to have the wrong tones, and I’ve been puzzling about it ever since. Now, from what you’ve just said, it sounds as if these rules really aren’t important after all – that the most important thing is that the language should be original.’
‘You’ve hit it exactly!’ said Dai-yu. ‘As a matter of fact even the language isn’t of primary importance. The really important things are the ideas that lie behind it. If the ideas behind it are genuine, there’s no need to embellish the language for the poem to be a good one. That’s what they mean when they talk about “not letting the words harm the meaning”.’
‘I love that couplet by Lu You,’ said Caltrop:
‘Behind snug curtained doors the incense lingers; In well-worn concave patch the ground ink settles.
That’s genuine, isn’t it? So vivid.’
‘Good gracious! You mustn’t go reading that sort of stuff!’ said Dai-yu. ‘It’s only because of your lack of experience that you can think shallow stuff like that any good. Once you get stuck into that rut, you’ll never get out of it. You do as I tell you. I’ve got the Collected Works of Wang Wei here. You take a hundred of Wang Wei’s pentasyllabic poems in Regulated Verse and read and re-read them, carefully pondering what you read, until you are thoroughly familiar with them all. After that read a hundred or two of Du Fu’s Regulated Verse heptasyllabics and a hundred or two of Li Bo’s heptasyllabic quatrains; then, with a firm foundation of those three poets inside you, if you go on to look at some of the earlier poets like Tao Yuan-ming, Xie Ling-yun, Ruan Ji, Yu Xin and Bao Zhao, with your quickness and intelligence you should have no difficulty in turning yourself into a fully-fledged bard within less than a twelvemonth.’
‘In that case,’ said Caltrop excitedly, ‘dear Miss Lin, would you please lend me that book you mentioned, so that I can take it back with me and study it before I go to bed?’
Dai-yu told Nightingale to fetch down the volume of Regular Pentasyllabics from the Collected Works of Wang Wei.
‘Read the ones I’ve marked with red circles,’ she said, handing the book to Caltrop. ‘They are my own selection. Just work your way through them gradually, taking each one as it comes. If you have any difficulties, you can either ask Miss Bao about them or else get me to explain them to you next time you see me.’
Caltrop carried the book back with her to Allspice Court, and sitting down under the lamp, began reading the poems, oblivious to all around her. Bao-chai made several attempts at making her go to bed, but in the end, impressed by such total absorption, gave up and left her alone.
Next morning, just as Dai-yu had completed her toilet, a smiling Caltrop walked in, holding out the volume of Wang Wei and asking to exchange it for a volume of Du Fu’s heptasyllabics.
‘How many of them do you think you can remember?’ Dai-yu asked her.
‘I’ve been through all the ones marked with red circles,’ said Caltrop.
‘And do you think you have learnt anything from them?’
‘I think so,’ said Caltrop. ‘Though I can’t be sure. Perhaps you can tell me.’
‘Certainly,’ said Dai-yu. ‘Discussion is what I was hoping for. It is the only way of making progress. Tell me what you think they have taught you.’
‘Well,’ said Caltrop, ‘as I see it, poetry is very good at saying things which you can’t exactly explain but which leave a very vivid impression in your mind; also it often says things which at first seem illogical but are quite logical and natural when you stop to think about them.’
‘That sounds very perceptive,’ said Dai-yu. ‘What about giving an example or two of what you mean?’
‘Take that third couplet from his poem “On the Frontier”,’ said Caltrop:
‘Over a lone fire the straight smoke hangs; In the long river the round sun sets.
Now how can smoke really be “straight”? And why “the round sun”? Of course the sun is round! Yet when you close the book and start thinking about those lines, the scene they describe is so vivid that it’s almost as though you had been there. And if you ask yourself what other two words he could have used instead of “straight” and “round”, you realize that there aren’t any. Then again, in a couplet from another of his poems:
When the sun sets, the water whitens; When the tide rises, all the world is green.
“Whitens” and “green” at first seem like nonsense; but when you start thinking about it, you realize that he had to use those two words in order to describe the scene exactly as it was. When you read those lines out loud, the flavour of them is so concentrated that it’s as though you had an olive weighing several thousand catties inside your mouth! And there’s another couplet of his:
Down by the ford the late sun lingers; Over the village a smoke-thread climbs.
“Lingers” and “climbs”: so simple, but so clever! I remember that year we came up to the capital we moored the boat one evening towards dusk in a very lonely stretch of country with only a few trees on the bank and a few houses far away in the distance from which the blue smoke of peasants cooking their evening meal was rising high, high into the clouds. When I read this couplet last night, it suddenly took me back to that very spot.’
Bao-yu and Tan-chun had come in while she was talking and quietly sat down to listen. Bao-yu was impressed.
‘To judge by what you’ve just said, you don’t need to read any more poetry. The Emperor Jian-wen once remarked that “appreciation needs not to seek far afield”. From your discussion of that last couplet, I should say that you have already reached the samādhi!’
‘Actually, although you won’t know this yet,’ said Dai-yu, ‘that “smoke-thread climbs” line you admire so much is based on a line written by an earlier poet. If I show it to you, I think you will agree that it is even more austerely effective than Wang Wei’s line.’
She took down a copy of Tao Yuan-ming’s Works, hunted out the couplet she had in mind, and handed it to her to look at:
Half-lost in haze the distant haunts of men, Whose dawdling smoke the unseen hamlet marks.
Caltrop read it and nodded approvingly:
‘Yes, I see. He got the idea for “climbs” from the “dawdling” of this earlier line.’
Bao-yu laughed delightedly.
‘Perfect! You must end your discussion there. If you go on any longer, you’ll begin unlearning what you’ve already discovered. You can start writing poetry yourself now, straight away. It’s sure to be good.’
‘I can see I shall soon be writing an invitation asking you to join our poetry club,’ said Tan-chun smilingly.
‘Don’t make fun of me, Miss Tan,’ said Caltrop. ‘Writing poetry is something I’ve always wanted to do, and now I’ve got the chance, I’m learning for the fun of it. I don’t expect I shall ever be any good.’
‘Good heavens! we only write for the fun of it ourselves,’ said Tan-chun. ‘You surely don’t imagine that what we write is good poetry? If we set ourselves up to be real poets, people outside this Garden who got to hear of it would laugh so loud that their teeth would drop out!’
‘That’s what Mencius calls “throwing yourself away”,’ said Bao-yu. ‘You shouldn’t do that. The other day, when I was discussing Xi-chun’s painting with some of Father’s gentlemen, they told me they had heard about our poetry club and asked if they could see some of our poems, so I wrote a few out for them from memory. I assure you, they were genuinely impressed. In fact, they have calligraphed them for blocks to have them printed.’
‘Is this really true?’ Tan-chun and Dai-yu asked incredulously.
‘If anyone’s telling lies, it must be the parrot,’ said Bao-yu.
The two girls were aghast.
‘You really are the limit! Quite apart from the fact that the poems aren’t good enough, you have no business to go showing our stuff to people outside.’
‘What’s the harm?’ said Bao-yu. ‘If those famous poems written by poetesses in days gone by had never been taken outside the women’s quarters, we shouldn’t know about them today.’
Just then Xi-chun’s maid Picture arrived and called Bao-yu away to her mistress. Caltrop pressed Dai-yu to lend her the volume of Du Fu; she also begged Dai-yu and Tan-chun to set her a subject for a poem.
‘Let me try my hand at writing one myself,’ she said, ‘and you can correct it for me.’
‘Last night there was a very fine moon,’ said Dai-yu. ‘I’ve been thinking of writing a poem about it myself, but haven’t yet got round to it. Why don’t you write a poem about the moon? You can use “sky” and “light” as your rhymes; but I won’t set the other rhyme-words for you, you can use whichever ones you like.’
Clutching the volume of poems, Caltrop returned in great glee and at once began thinking about her composition. After working out the first line or two, she could not resist peeping at the Du Fu and reading a couple of poems. And in this way she continued, alternately reading and composing by fits and starts, too excited to think about eating or drinking or to sit still in the same place for two or three minutes together.
‘Why give yourself so much trouble when you don’t have to?’ Bao-chai asked her. ‘It’s all that Frowner’s fault. I shall have to go and have it out with her. You are inclined to be a dreamer at the best of times, but now you are becoming a real case!’
‘Please, Miss Bao!’ said Caltrop. ‘You are putting me off.’
She was writing while she said this. Soon she had completed the draft of a poem and handed it to Bao-chai to look at. Bao-chai read it and laughed.
‘No, this is no good. This isn’t the way to write poetry. Still, don’t be disheartened. I should take it to her just the same and see what she says.’
Caltrop followed her advice and went off to look for Dai-yu. Dai-yu took the poem and looked at it. This is what Caltrop had written:
A chilly radiance bright, a fair round shape, The cold white moon hangs in the middle sky. The poet for inspiration seeks her oft; The homesick traveller from her turns his eye. Like a jade mirror hanging on azure wall, Like disc of jade suspended from on high. No need for lamps on such a glorious night, When every beam and post is bathed in light.
Dai-yu smiled.
‘You’ve certainly got some ideas there, but the words you’ve expressed them in somehow don’t hang together properly. It’s because you haven’t read enough poetry yet. It looks to me as if you’ve got rather stuck with this poem. If I were you, I’d abandon it altogether and begin another one. Let yourself go a bit more this time.’
Caltrop returned in silence. This time she did not even go indoors but remained outside among the trees at the water’s edge – to the considerable mystification of those who passed by and saw her – sitting on a rock meditating, or squatting on her heels in order to scratch characters on the ground.
Li Wan, Bao-chai, Tan-chun and Bao-yu, hearing of this interesting sight, stood on a little hillock some distance away from her and watched with amusement. Bao-chai insisted that Caltrop had gone mad.
‘You should have heard her last night. She was muttering away to herself until four or five in the morning. And she can’t have slept for more than half an hour, for as soon as it was daylight, I could hear her getting up again. She rushed through her toilet and then rushed off to see Frowner. Presently she came back again, and after mooning around for half the day, she produced a poem; and as that was no good, I assume she is now trying to write another one.’
‘ “The genius of the place brings out the excellence of the person”,’ said Bao-yu, misquoting slightly. ‘The lord above doesn’t give us our talents for nothing. We always used to say what a pity it was that a person of her qualities should lack refinement – but look at her now! It proves there is some justice in the world.’
‘If only you had her powers of concentration,’ said Bao-chai, ‘you might study to some purpose.’
Bao-yu did not reply.
Just then a very pleased-looking Caltrop was to be seen hurrying off in the direction of the Naiad’s House.
‘Let’s go after her and see if it’s any better this time,’ said Tan-chun.
When the three of them arrived, Dai-yu had the poem in her hand and was already discussing it.
‘What’s it like?’ they asked her.
‘Well, for a beginner, of course, it’s very good,’ said Dai-yu; ‘but it isn’t really right yet. It’s too laboured. She’ll have to try again.’
The others asked if they might have a look. This is what they read:
Silver or water on the casement cold? See its round source in yon clear midnight sky. Blanched ghostly white, plum-blossoms spread their scent, And dew on willow-slips begins to dry. Is it white powder on the paving spilled? Or grains of frost that on the railings lie? I wake to find no other soul in sight But that still face which through the blind sheds light.
‘It’s not much like a poem about the moon,’ said Bao-chai, ‘but if you altered the title to “Moonlight”, it would fit rather well. Look at these lines: each of them is not about the moon, it’s about moonlight. Well, all poetry is only a lot of nonsense! I should leave it for a few days, Caltrop, if I were you. There’s no hurry.’
But Caltrop, though she had truly believed that this second poem was a minor masterpiece and was extremely dashed by its rejection, was most unwilling to give up. She wanted to begin thinking about her next poem straight away; and as she found the talk and laughter of the cousins distracting, she went out to where the bamboos began, at the foot of the terrace. There she gave herself up to cogitation of such fierce intensity that she became totally oblivious to all sights and sounds around her, and when Tan-chun jokingly called to her through the window to ‘call it a day’, she merely looked up with a somewhat dazed expression and replied that ‘ “day” didn’t rhyme: the rhyme-word she was using was “sky” ’. The others, hearing this, all burst out laughing.
‘The girl’s got poetry mania!’ said Bao-chai. ‘This is all Frowner’s doing.’
‘Nonsense!’ said Dai-yu. ‘The Sage tells us that we should be “tireless in teaching others”. She came and asked me for help. How could I possibly refuse her?’
‘Let’s take her to Xi-chun’s place and get her to look at the painting,’ said Li Wan. ‘Perhaps it will take her mind off poetry for a bit.’
She went outside, the others following, and taking Caltrop by the hand, led her to the Spring In Winter room of Lotus Pavilion, where they found Xi-chun, fatigued by her labours, lying on the couch taking an afternoon nap. The painting was on the wall, masked by a covering of gauze. The cousins woke up Xi-chun and removed the cover from the painting. Barely three-tenths of it had been completed. Several female figures were to be seen scattered about here and there in the landscape.
‘Look,’ they said, pointing them out to Caltrop, ‘anyone who can write poetry gets put into the picture. You must hurry up and learn, so that she can put you in too!’
After chatting and joking for a while, they broke up and went off to their several apartments.
Caltrop could think of nothing else but her poem. In the evening she sat by the lamp thinking about it, and it was after midnight when she went to bed. Even in bed she lay with her eyes wide open, continuing to think about it; and it was not until three or four in the morning that she gradually dropped off to sleep.
At daybreak Bao-chai woke up and listened: Caltrop appeared to be fast asleep.
‘She was tossing about all night,’ thought Bao-chai. ‘I wonder if she managed to finish her poem. I won’t call her now; she must be exhausted.’
Just then she heard Caltrop laugh and call out in her sleep:
‘Ha! Got it! Let her try saying that this one isn’t any good!’
Bao-chai was both touched and amused.
‘What have you got?’ she asked, quickly waking her. ‘This poetry business is becoming positively unnatural! I don’t know about learning how to write poetry: what you’ll likelier get, if you go on much longer in this fashion, is a serious illness!’
The intensity of Caltrop’s application had, in fact, induced a concentration of the vital fluids which, finding no outlet during the daytime, had resulted in her being able to produce a whole eight-line poem in her sleep. She wrote it down as soon as she had combed and washed, and then went out to look for the others.
At Drenched Blossoms, in the little pavilion on the bridge, she came upon Li Wan and the cousins on the way back from their morning duty-call on Lady Wang. Bao-chai was just telling them how Caltrop had composed a poem while she was dreaming and how she had cried out in her sleep, and the others were laughing as they listened. When they looked up and saw Caltrop herself approaching them, they eagerly asked her if they might see her poem.
For further details, please see the following chapter.