Truth And Fiction
Dream of the Red Chamber gets really abstract (again)
Truth And Fiction
After overhearing their conversation, Zhen Shiyin confronts the monk and priest and asks them to explain what they were talking about. When he asks them about the stone, he’s startled to hear the monk respond that there must be a direct connection between him and the odd object. In the end, the monk and priest rush off to the “Illusory Realm of the Great Void” through gates flanked on both sides by a mystical poem of significant meaning. This poem also happens to be one of the most famous in the entire book despite how difficult it is to understand.
Chinese Text
卻說甄士隱俱聽得明白，遂不禁上前施禮，笑問道：「二位仙師請了。」那僧道也忙答禮相問。士隱因說道：「適聞仙師所談因果，實人世罕聞者。但弟子愚拙，不能洞悉明白。若蒙大開痴頑，備細一聞，弟子洗耳諦聽，稍能警省，亦可免沉淪之苦了。」二仙笑道：「此乃玄機，不可預洩。到那時只要不忘了我二人，便可跳出火坑矣。」士隱聽了，不便再問，因笑道：「玄機固不可洩露，但適云『蠢物』，不知為何？或可得見否？」那僧說：「若問此物，倒有一面之緣。」說著，取出遞與士隱。
士隱接了看時，原來是塊鮮明美玉，上面字跡分明，鐫著「通靈寶玉」四字，後面還有幾行小字。正欲細看時，那僧便說「已到幻境」，就強從手中奪了去，和那道人竟過了一座大石牌坊，上面大書四字，乃是「太虛幻境」。兩邊又有一副對聯，道：「假作真時真亦假，無為有處有還無。」
Translation Notes
適 here means “by chance” or “as luck would have it.”
因果 is “cause and effect,” or, in Buddhism, “karma” or “fate.” This combination comes from the Sanskrit words हेतु (hetu: impulse, or cause) and फल (phala: fruit, or result).
弟子 means disciple or follower.
愚拙 means “stupid and clumsy;” there’s no reason to consider Zhen Shiyin clumsy here, so we’ll stick with something like “foolish.”
洞悉 means to clearly understand or grasp. 洞悉明白, therefore, means to fully understand. This is one of those 紅樓夢 specific idioms.
痴頑 means deluded and stubborn. 大開痴頑 would therefore mean to greatly enlighten one’s foolish mind – something like “graciously unveil the truth to this stubborn fool.”
備細 means “detailed” or “carefully” as an adverb, which is how it’s used here. 備細一聞 therefore means “as I listen carefully” or “as I listen raptly.” 備細 shows up in other Chinese classics; for example, from 水滸傳: “大頭領大驚，正問備細，只見報道：『二哥哥來了。』” (The chieftain was greatly startled and was just about to ask for more details when someone suddenly announced, “Second Brother has arrived!”)
洗耳諦聽 means to listen with one’s full attention. It’s another one of those 紅樓夢 specific phrases.
警省 (省 is pronounced xǐng) means “to warn” – but it implies an internal realization or awakening. Zhen Shiyin isn’t asking the immortals to tell him what is about to happen. Instead, he’s asking to be enlightened, pleading with them to explain what they just said about the Heavenly Jade Servant and the Crimson Fairy Plant.
沉淪 means “to sink into,” but we’re talking about Buddhist specific language here. 沉淪之苦 must refer to continuing through the torment of “karmic pain” (the hopeless experience of being constantly reincarnated without making progress) from one life to the next, never achieving enlightenment. Zhen Shiyin thinks that the mysterious things the two immortals were talking about must be some sort of mystery that will save him.
乃 is one of those characters that you pick up on when you read classical texts from the right era. It means “to be.”
玄機 is an arcane truth – something divine and mysterious.
跳出火坑, “jump out of the fiery pit.” 火坑 here refers to संसार (saṃsāra), which is that ongoing cycle of death and rebirth that Zhen Shiyin is hoping to finally escape. They’re telling him that he’ll be able to escape the suffering in the end if he just remembers them.
The name of the jade is 通靈寶玉, which is really important. We came across 通靈 way back in the first paragraph of the book. We translated it as “spiritual communication” at the time, though “divine connection” might be more appropriate. As we will see, this stone links the person who holds it (who happens to be named 賈寶玉 – note that his given name is also part of the name of the jade) to his fate — but it doesn’t really teach him anything. This is why that term 通靈 is actually really finicky. It’s not really a way for its holder to receive spiritual communication, but is rather a symbol of the holder’s link to his fate.
It doesn’t come out well in English, but 幻境 is mentioned twice – both in the name of the land they reached (the “land of illusion”) and in the inscription on the archway (the “illusory realm”). The connection is hard to make in translation. If you look way back to the beginning, we were told (in the paragraph most translators ignore) that the reader should always remember 夢 and 幻 while reading this book. That’s what we call a “clue.”
In this case, the 太虛幻境, what we’re calling the “Illusory Realm of the Great Void,” itself is a land of illusion. In fact, they call it just that: “幻境.” This is a subtle critique on the part of Cao Xueqin against the higher teachings of Buddhism and Taoism, as we’ll see later on when we observe the things associated with that “higher” realm.
Zhen Shiyin is unable to go to that place, because he is in a mortal illusion. In other words, the 太虛幻境 is a higher illusion for higher spiritual creatures. But Cao Xueqin’s point here is that it’s still an illusion anyway.
Now that we understand that Cao Xueqin sees the organized and formal world of spirituality (whether Buddhist or Taoist) as an illusion (幻), the poem 假作真時真亦假，無為有處有還無 makes more sense. Keep in mind the “因空見色，由色生情，傳情入色，自色悟空” sentence that we saw just the other day. If we confuse 假 (false things, or illusory things – the same as 夢 and 幻) for things that are 真 (true; here 情, or the feelings and emotions), then the true things (the emotions or feelings) themselves get lost. Similarly, if we confuse things that simply don’t exist (幻境, or the illusory world of celestial glory, or heaven, or whatever we want to call it) for something real, than the places that actually are real also turn into nothing for us.
We could also translate the poem this way:
When doctrine eclipses feeling, feeling dies;
Where void wears truth’s guise, all truth is lies.
Or we could put it much more simply. If you don’t have the heart — if you’re just checking off a list, if you’re just following some arbitrary religious rules or requirements that you think will get you there — you’ve actually got nothing at all.
That is Cao Xueqin’s radical argument — and is the actual meaning of the poem.
Translation Critique
Hawkes
In Hawkes’ version, after Zhen Shiyin asks about the “absurd creature” (蠢物, which really is better translated as “stupid thing”), the monk replies: “I think it is on the cards for you to have a look at him” before giving him the stone. Hawkes is implying here that there is a connection between Zhen Shiyin and the stone. However, he doesn’t need to imply this, since it’s explicitly stated in the original text: “若問此物，倒有一面之緣,” or “if you’re asking about this thing, there must be a connection (緣) between it and you.” This is a kind of odd instance of Hawkes making the text more abstract in his translation than it is in the original.
Hawkes translates 通靈寶玉 as “magic jade,” which is extremely unfortunate. This isn’t just a magic piece of jade. It’s a piece of stone that links the holder directly to his fate.
Hawkes also translates 太虛幻境 as “the frontier of Illusion,” which is also deceiving. His name implies that the land that the monk and priest travel to is the place where illusion (幻) ends. As I noted above, the implication in the original text is much stronger than that. Cao Xueqin is clearly implying that the celestial realm itself is an illusion (幻) through its name. We can also see this through the name 警幻仙子, “The Goddess Who Unveils Illusion,” who seems to be the highest ranking figure in that celestial realm. Note that her name also includes the character for illusion (幻).
As I’ve said before, the real problem here is that Hawkes neglected to translate the first paragraph of the book, where Cao Xueqin clearly states that the whole point of the book is words like 夢 and 幻. It’s hard to translate into English, of course — which is why it’s helpful to go slowly and include a lot of notes that explain the original text.
Hawkes translates the difficult poem at the end like this:
Truth becomes fiction when the fiction’s true;
Real becomes not-real when the unreal’s real.
Yang
The Yangs translate 通靈寶玉 as “Precious Jade of Spiritual Understanding.” While it’s a better translation than Hawkes’ simplistic “magic jade,” it’s still a bit misleading. As we’ll see through the story, the jade isn’t some sort of medium through which Jia Baoyu receives divine revelation. Instead, it’s almost like a chain, linking him to his fate.
The Yangs translate the final poem like this:
When false is taken for true, true becomes false;
If non-being turns into being, being becomes non-being.
My Translation
Now, Zhen Shiyin had heard every word of this clearly. He couldn’t resist stepping forward, greeting them with a bow, and smiling as he said, “Salutations, immortal masters.” The monk and priest returned the greetings and asked what he wanted.
“As luck would have it, I overheard both of you immortal masters discussing karma — something that is unusual for mortals to hear. Unfortunately, I’m foolish, and was unable to fully understand what you meant. If you’d be willing to give a fool like me a full explanation, I promise to listen with my full attention. In fact, if I could gain a bit of spiritual awakening, I might be able to escape the pain of karmic suffering.”
“This is a celestial mystery,” laughed the two immortals. “We can’t reveal it prematurely. When the time comes, if you do not forget us, you might leap free from the fiery pit.”
After hearing that answer, Zhen Shiyin decided not to ask again. “Of course a celestial mystery can’t be revealed,” he replied instead. “But when you spoke of the ‘stupid thing’ just now – what could that possibly be? Can I see it?”
“Since you asked about it,” replied the monk, “there must be a connection between it and you.” And he gave it to Zhen Shiyin.
When he had received it, Zhen Shiyin noticed that it was a piece of clear, bright, and beautiful jade. The inscription on the front was easy to see: “The precious jade of divine connection,” it said, and there were also a few small characters on the back.
“We’ve reached the land of illusion!” the monk declared, just as Zhen Shiyin was examining the object closely. The monk forcibly snatched the stone from Zhen Shiyin’s hands. And then the monk and the priest went together through a great stone archway. Four large characters were inscribed on the top of the archway: “Illusory Realm of the Great Void.”
There was a poem on the side of the archway:
When falsehood is taken as truth, the truth becomes false;
Where nothing is claimed to be something, that something becomes nothing.
So what do you think the “celestial mystery” actually is? And do you think that the monk and priest actually know something that could help Zhen Shiyin escape “the pain of karmic suffering?” Let me know in the comments!
I think it makes sense for a difficult to comprehend poem to be famous, being difficult to understand is the sort of trait that gets people talking about something, like Finnegan's Wake for example. I liked the poem.