This is the final volume in Cao Xueqin’s epic novel. The houses of Ning-Guo and Rong-Guo have fallen on hard times and out of imperial favor. Events come to a head when the masters of the two houses, Jia She and Jia Zhen, are stripped of their hereditary titles, their mansions, land holdings, bonded servants, and gold are all confiscated, and the two are banished to the frontier by Imperial Decree. If not bad enough, the younger master of the Ron-Guo branch, Jia Zheng, is impeached from his position as an official grain collector. Although personally upstanding, he had been negligent in his command and allowed his underlings and servants to extort the peasantry for private gain.
Jia Zheng, recalled to the capital and temporarily without official position, finally looks at the household books and sees what a sorry state his family’s fortune has dwindled to with years of luxury, gambling, and waste. “And now I find that we have been mortgaging ourselves up to the hilt in order to keep up an empty show! We have been living far beyond our means…. What is it to you [servants] if we live or die? You say we are lucky not to have had everything confiscated—but what do you know? Do you realize that with our reputation as it stands at present, we’ll be hard put to it to avoid bankruptcy. And with you putting on airs, acting as if you were rich, talking as if you were important, swindling people left right and centre, we don’t stand a chance.”
Alone, Grandmother Jia, at her wits end, struggles to preserve what dignity and standing remains for the Jia households. “Almighty Lord Buddha! I your humble servant, born into the family of Shi, and married into the house of Jia, earnestly beseech you to show your compassion. For many generations we have done no wrong, we have not trodden in the ways of violence or arrogance. I have done my humble and inadequate best to stay in the paths of righteousness, to support my husband and to assist my sons. But the younger generation have acted with wanton recklessness, they have incurred the wrath of providence, and now our home has been raided and our property taken from us. My son and two of the younger men are held in prison and must expect the worst. The blame for all of these misfortunes must rest on my shoulders, for having failed to teach the younger generation the true principles of conduct. Now I kowtow and beg Almighty Heaven to protect us. May those in prison see their sorrow turned to joy, may the ailing swiftly recover health. May I alone be permitted to carry the whole family’s burden of guilt! And may the sons and grandsons be forgiven! Have pity on me, Almighty Heaven, and heed my devout supplication; send me an early death that I may atone for the sins of my children and grandchildren!”
By the time Grandmother Jia does pass away, the Imperial Throne has once again shown favor to the Jias. One hereditary title has been restored to her younger son, Jia Zheng, who has also been reinstated to an official position at the Commission of Public Works. Eventually, Jia She and Jia Zhen are also given amnesty and allowed to return to their restored properties. However, it is in the conduct of Grandmother Jia’s servant, Faithful, that filial piety is most staunchly displayed. Upon her mistress’ death, she chooses to hang herself, rather than serve any other master. Bao-yu comments, “What a rare girl Faithful was to choose such a death! The purest essence of the universe is truly concentrated in her sex! She has found a fitting and noble death. We, Grandmother’s own grandchildren, are despicable by comparison. We have shown ourselves less devoted than her maid.”
This final volume, again, shifts in tone back towards the mystical and philosophical. Bao-yu reflects, “People always say that dreams are false, but it seems that this one was real! How often I’ve wished I could dream that dream of mine again! And now here I am, and my wish is coming true.” In fact, throughout this volume, Bao-yu transforms from a carefree youth into a spiritual enigma. “In addition to his inveterate contempt for worldly success and advancement, he had of late begun to adopt an attitude of indifference towards the whole gamut of romantic attachment—in a word, towards love itself. But this radically new departure was hardly noticed by those around him, and he himself said nothing to enlighten them.” His new wife, Bao-Chai, is the first to notice this change in mood and admonishes him, “Since we are husband and wife I should be able to look to you for lifelong support. Our life together should be built on something more than the passion of a moment. Glory and wealth are as insubstantial as a cloud—that I can understand. But since ancient times, what the sages have prized most has always been virtue…. It’s ridiculous to compare yourself with Bo Yi. Both he and Shu Qi lived in the declining years of the Shang dynasty, and their lives were beset with difficulties of one kind or another. So they had a good pretext for escaping their responsibilities. But your case is totally different. Ours is a golden age, and we ourselves have received numerous favours from the throne, while our ancestors enjoyed lives of luxury. And you yourself have been treasured all your life, both by our late grandmother, and by Mother and Father.” However, a mysterious visiting monk observes, “Predestined attachments of the human heart are all of them mere illusion, they are obstacles blocking our spiritual path.” Bao-yu, himself, ponders, “The True Sage does not reveal himself, and he who reveals himself is no True Sage.” Cao’s novel ends by abstracting out upon its own very narration, “When grief for fiction’s idle words/More real than human life appears,/Reflect that life itself’s a dream/And do not mock the reader’s tears.”
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