Lin Daiyu Enters
The connection between Lin Daiyu and the Jia family
Lin Daiyu Enters
From her first appearance in Dream of the Red Chamber, Lin Daiyu is established as a subversive character — an educated and extremely bright girl whose mere presence challenges the standards and norms of her time. Today we meet Lin Daiyu for the first time, and get a glimpse of the family circumstances that caused her to be such a memorable and unfortunate literary character.
Chinese Text
原來雨村因那年士隱贈銀之後，他於十六日便起身赴京，大比之期，十分得意，中了進士，選入外班，今已升了本縣太爺。雖才幹優長，未免貪酷，且恃才侮上，那同寅皆側目而視。不上一年，便被上司參了一本，說他「貌似有才，性實狡猾」；又題了一兩件徇庇蠹役，交結鄉紳之事。龍顏大怒，即命革職。部文一到，本府各官無不喜悅。那雨村雖十分慚恨，面上卻全無一點怨色，仍是嘻笑自若。交代過了公事，將歷年所積的宦囊並家屬人等送至原籍安頓妥當了，卻自己擔風袖月，遊覽天下勝蹟。那日偶又遊至維揚地方，聞得今年鹽政點的是林如海。
這林如海，姓林，名海，表字如海，乃是前科的探花，今已升蘭臺寺大夫。本貫姑蘇人氏，今欽點為巡鹽御史，到任未久。原來這林如海之祖也曾襲過列侯的，今到如海，業經五世。起初只襲三世，因當今隆恩盛德，額外加恩，至如海之父又襲了一代，到了如海便從科第出身。雖繫世祿之家，卻是書香之族。只可惜這林家支庶不盛，人丁有限，雖有幾門，卻與如海俱是堂族，沒甚親支嫡派的。今如海年已五十，只有一個三歲之子，又於去歲亡了，雖有幾房姬妾，奈命中無子，亦無可奈何之事。只嫡妻賈氏生得一女，乳名黛玉，年方五歲，夫妻愛之如掌上明珠。見他生得聰明俊秀，也欲使他識幾個字，不過假充養子，聊解膝下荒涼之嘆。
且說雨村在旅店偶感風寒，愈後又因盤費不繼，正欲得一居停之所，以為息肩之地。偶遇兩個舊友，認得新鹽政，知他正要請一西席教訓女兒，遂將雨村薦進衙門去。這女學生年紀幼小，身體又弱，功課不限多寡，其餘不過兩個伴讀丫鬟，故雨村十分省力，正好養病。
看看又是一載有餘，不料女學生之母賈氏夫人一病而亡。女學生奉侍湯藥，守喪盡禮，過於哀痛，素本怯弱，因此舊病復發，有好些時不曾上學。
Translation Notes
十六日, the 16th, is the day right after the mid-autumn festival (中秋節), which was always held on the 15th day of the 8th month according to the Chinese lunar calendar. Jia Yucun left right after he received the silver and the advice from Zhen Shiyin, despite Zhen Shiyin’s insistence that the 19th was more auspicious.
進士 was the highest degree possible in the old imperial exam system in China. This required passing the final stage of the exam, which was usually held in the imperial capital.
In this case, 外班 refers to a provincial posting (literally an “external posting”), not a foreign posting.
貪酷 means greedy and corrupt.
恃才侮上 means to flaunt your own abilities (恃才, to rely on your own talent) while defying those above you (侮上, disrespecting your superiors).
同寅 means colleague or fellow official.
徇庇蠹役 is to shelter corrupt underlings (蠹役) by perverting justice (徇庇).
龍顏 is the noble face of the Emperor.
擔風袖月 means free and unfettered – as if you were carrying nothing but the wind and moonlight in your sleeves.
Note that it seems more time has transpired than the first chapter would make you think. It was probably 5 to 7 years between Jia Yucun’s meeting with Zhen Shiyin and the time he wound up marrying Jiao Xing. That gives him 3 to 4 years to successfully take the imperial examinations and receive a post, a year or two to be promoted and get his wealth, and perhaps a year or two of wandering. Jia Yucun’s wealth must have come through corruption for him to accumulate so much in such a short time.
林海 means “Forest” and “Ocean,” hinting that Lin Hai was a stable official who was as helpless against fate as a person is against the sea. The name 如海 means “like the sea.”
探花 was the third highest rank in the imperial examinations. The highest was 張元; the second was 榜眼.
蘭臺 was the “Censorate,” and played a similar role to the Office of Inspector General in the current U.S. government. Those part of this bureau monitored government officials for corruption and moral failings, reviewed court cases to prevent wrongful convictions, and occasionally would submit memorials criticizing imperial policies (though, of course, this was risky).
襲過列侯 means to inherit or pass on noble rank.
世祿之家 and 書香之族 (family of noble heritage and a clan that valued scholarship) are an interesting contrast. Hereditary titles in the Ming and Qing dynasties were temporary, usually limited to 3 generations. This was designed to prevent entrenched aristocratic power and to encourage the descendants of noble families to re-earn their status through the imperial exam system — something we’d consider downright democratic today. Thus, there was a cultural imperative for families to focus on learning to guarantee the economic survival of future generations.
支庶不盛，人丁有限 indicates that there weren’t enough males in the family. 支庶 refers specifically to the “branches” of the family tree that came through concubines, and 人丁 refers to males in particular. There weren’t enough men in the Lin family to keep the tradition going. 雖有幾門，卻與如海俱是堂族，沒甚親支嫡派的 continues this thought. 門 (door) refers to the same thing as 支 (branch of the family); 堂族 means paternal cousins, and indicates that Lin Ruhai had a few paternal cousins who were somewhat removed (i.e. through his grandfather), and 親支嫡派 refers to more direct relatives. In other words, despite the presence of concubines as a “backup plan,” they didn’t have male offspring (支庶不盛), causing a shortage of men (人丁有限) and indicating that the family line would likely die out. Per Qing dynasty law, Lin Ruhai’s inheritance would likely have gone to his more distant cousins (堂族). Even if his one child, his daughter Lin Daiyu, wound up being unmarried, she would not have received more than a limited dowry, as the law explicitly prohibited daughters from inheriting land or titles. This situation was known as 絕戶 (literally “extinguished door”), which is a term used to refer to people without children. And, yes, Cao Xueqin is deliberately using the story of a brilliant official with an extremely talented daughter and no other children to demonstrate the gender imbalance in China at his time. As I’ve mentioned before, there are absolutely feminist strains in this novel.
膝下荒涼 means the coldness or bleakness of having no children; the 無 in front of 膝下 is implied.
西席 means private tutor.
Translation Critique
Hawkes
As usual, Hawkes is unapologetically long-winded and fond of crazy run-on sentences. He describes Jia Yucun’s corruption this way:
But although his intelligence and ability were outstanding, these qualities were unfortunately offset by a certain cupidity and harshness and a tendency to use his intelligence in order to outwit his superiors; all of which caused his fellow-officials to cast envious glances in his direction, with the result that in less than a year an unfavourable report was sent in by a senior official stating that his ‘seeming ability was no more than a mask for cunning and duplicity’ and citing one or two instances in which he had aided and abetted the peculations of his underlings or allied himself with powerful local interests in order to frustrate the course of justice.
Even if you don’t read this sentence out loud, it feels absolutely exhausting. It feels like Hawkes just couldn’t wait to get it all out at once. It also feels like Hawkes never had an editor.
Hawkes translates 探花 (third place in the imperial examinations) as “Florilege.” This isn’t an English word, of course (or, if it is, I can’t find it anywhere). It seems that Hawkes borrowed the Latin adjective flōrilegus (flower-gathering, i.e. of bees) to create this word. It kind of works: 探花 literally means “find flowers.” There’s another related Latin noun, flōrilegium, that means “anthology” (probably specifically relating to the study of flowers), as well as the French word florilège, which also means “anthology.” Hawkes’ problem, of course, is that this has nothing to do with getting third place in the imperial exams – though he does explain that “passed out Florilege” means “third in the whole list of successful candidates.” It’s clever, sure — but it’s also quite useless.
Hawkes translates 起初只襲三世 as “the original patent had been inheritable only up to the third generation.” Perhaps one of my readers has a better understanding of English than I do, but I think “patent” here is a terrible attempt at translating the concept of noble inheritance. It’s nothing short of confusing, especially since he refers to “hereditary emoluments” later in the same paragraph.
Hawkes also mistranslates 俱是堂族 as “they were all on the distaff side.” Here “distaff” means female; however, 堂族 here refers to the same paternal grandfather, not “mother’s side” as in 堂妹 or 堂姐. This seems to be due to Hawkes’ misunderstanding of Qing dynasty inheritance laws; see my comments in Translation Notes above. Long story short: Lin Ruhai’s concern was that his distant relatives would inherit his fortune because he had no male heir, and because there was no closely related male relative.
Yang
The Yangs expand on the original charge against Jia Yucun:
He was accused of “ingrained duplicity, tampering with the rites and, under a show of probity, conspiring with his ferocious underlings to foment trouble in his district and make life intolerable for the local people.”
It’s certainly possible that there is a political motive for this expanded censure of Jia Yucun.
My Translation
The story is that Jia Yucun set off for the capital right after he received the silver that Shiyin had given him that year. This was on the sixteenth. He was remarkably successful during the imperial examinations, earning the title of Metropolitan Graduate, and was selected for a provincial post. By now he had risen to become magistrate of his home county.
Though he was highly talented, he was also flawed. He was corrupt and harsh, and he relied on his intellect to bully his superiors, earning him the silent resentment of his colleagues. In less than a year one of his superiors submitted a memorial against him, accusing him of being “deceptively capable but inherently cunning” and citing one or two instances of Yucun shielding corrupt underlings and currying favor with local gentry. The Emperor was enraged and immediately ordered his dismissal. As soon as the official notification arrived, every officer in the prefecture rejoiced.
Yucun was shamed and resentful, but there wasn’t a hint of displeasure on his face. He remained as cheerful and calm as ever. After he handed over his official duties, he sent the wealth he had accumulated over the years, along with his family, back to his hometown to settle them securely. He set off to travel to see the famous sites in the world.
And, on this day, he just so happened to be in Weiyang when he heard that this year’s salt commissioner was none other than Lin Ruhai.
This Lin Ruhai’s given name was Hai; Ruhai was his courtesy name. He received the third highest rank in the previous imperial examination cycle, and had since risen to a high post within the Censorate. A native of Suzhou, he had recently been appointed Salt Inspection Commissioner by imperial degree, and had just taken office.
Lin Ruhai’s ancestors had been part of the nobility. However, by the time Ruhai was born, five generations had passed. Initially the noble title was only to be passed down for three generations. However, due to the present Emperor’s exceptional grace, an additional generation was granted, which extended the inheritance to Ruhai’s father. By Ruhai’s own generation, however, the family’s status depended solely on scholarly achievement. Thus, though the family was a noble line, it also included a clear scholarly tradition.
However, the Lin family was in decline, and there weren’t enough males in any of the branches of the family to be sustainable. Though there were a few branches of the family, they were all Ruhai’s paternal cousins. He didn’t have any close relatives.
At age 50, Ruhai had only had a single son, born 3 years prior, who had died the previous year. Though he had several concubines, fate denied him heirs — a sorrow beyond remedy. His principal wife, Lady Jia, had given birth to a single daughter, Daiyu, who was now five years old. The couple cherished her as a pearl in their palm, and, seeing that she was bright and delicate, they decided to teach her to read. Though she was a feeble substitute for a son, yet she made up for the coldness of having no sons.
It so happened that Yucun came down with a cold while he was staying at an inn. After he recovered he found himself lacking travel funds, and looked for a place to stay for a while. By chance, he ran into two old friends who knew the newly appointed Salt Commissioner. When they learned that the official was looking for a tutor for his daughter, they recommended Yucun take on the job.
The young girl was of tender age and delicate health, so her studies weren’t demanding — just a few light lessons with two maids in attendance as study companions. For Yucun this was effortless work, and was perfect as he recovered from his illness.
When another year had passed, the young girl’s mother, Lady Jia, fell ill and passed away. The young girl had nursed her mother through the sickness, had observed every mourning rite with utmost devotion, and grieved so deeply that her already frail constitution gave way. Her old sicknesses flared up again, keeping her away from her studies for many days.
We’ll learn more about Lin Daiyu’s symbolic name in tomorrow’s post.