Dream of the Red Chamber, Volume 1

The idea of reputation is prominent in Story of the Stone—specifically, the ways in which reputation and reality contradict each other. The long-standing and ingrained social hierarchy makes it possible for characters’ and families’ reputations to contradict their lived behaviors and dispositions. In turn, the social power dynamic makes it impossible for those of lower rank to shame or speak down upon those above them. In some moments, however, characters find the space to make their accusations and speak of reality, rather than reputation.

Big Jiao is the character who most clearly speaks out against the grievous behaviors of the Jia and Ning-guo families. He is a long-time servant of Cousin Zhen’s father and saved him in battle. Now he is old and mostly left alone by the younger generation, despite his drunkenness and obvious anger toward his masters. He says, in a drunken state one night after a party at the Ning-guo house:

‘Who would ever have believed the Old Master could spawn a filthy lot of animals?’ he bawled, ‘Up to their dirty little tricks every day. I know. Father-in-law pokes in the ashes. Auntie has it off with nevvy. You think I don’t know what you’re all up to?’ (183).

The primary accusation of Big Jiao is that of unnatural lust—the central theme of the novel, according to the stone itself. Big Jiao is uniquely able to speak about the reality of the family’s behaviors, providing a necessarily social critique. The most prominent members of the family, however, ignore him, choosing to disregard his criticism to maintain their power.

Xue Pan is another example of the disparate nature of reputation versus reality. He is a member of the prominent Wang family, and as such, the law does not bother him when he commits manslaughter. In this instance, it is the reputation of the family that saves Xue Pan, rather than his own reputation: He is known as a thug and a swindler, but his family’s wealth saves him from punishment, even when he takes a life. The reality, in this situation, is widely known—this is often the case in the novel, though few are willing or able to speak up about it. Instead, Xue Pan continues to float on the reputation of his relatives and live off their charity, despite his appalling behavior.

Finally, protagonist Bao-yu has his own struggle with reputation and reality. Although Bao-yu is only 13 when the novel ends, and much younger in earlier sections, he is known as the boy born with the jade in his mouth. This reputation precedes him as a person of significance. Because of this, his poems and calligraphy are prized among the young ladies of the town, and Bao-yu is “besieged with requests for more poems, specimens of his calligraphy, for paintings, for inscriptions. He began to feel himself a lion and was kept constantly busy by these dilettantish ‘duties’” (461). Although Bao-yu is an immature, lusty, undisciplined, short-tempered, and spoiled little boy, his reputation overcomes the reality, particularly among those who have not met him. The irony of this passage is that Bao-yu believes himself to be “a lion,” trusting his reputation among strangers over the reality of his behavior or over the comments of his close family members and servants. Each of these examples indicates the power of reputation to overcome reality in Chinese society during this period, as well as the author’s particular interest in dismantling that notion to convey the deeper, and often uglier, truth.

The most popular theme of The Story of the Stone is the correlation between love and suffering. According to nearly all the more spiritually sound characters, one always leads to the other. Bao-yu is the character who most needs to learn this lesson, as his future depends on it; however, he is not the only character who struggles with lustful thoughts and overly romantic notions.

Qin Zhong and Sapientia’s relationship highlights the saddest parts of this theme; the two were relatively moral and upright characters, whose love ended almost as soon as it began. Qin Zhong and Sapientia are long-time friends, and they finally consummate their relationship at the nunnery near the Temple of the Iron Threshold, after Qin-shi’s funeral. Sapientia returns to the city to find Qin Zhong a few weeks later, and Qin Zhong’s grandfather is appalled at his grandson’s lustfulness. He sends Sapientia away without seeing Qin Zhong, and then beats Qin Zhong badly. Both Qin Zhong and his grandfather fall ill soon afterward, and both die from the stress and exertion. Because this love story is one that is relatively innocent, it most clearly identifies the inevitable correlation between love and suffering. It is not certain kinds of love which cause this suffering, but all kinds: Love is only an illusion, and pursuing love is a base emotion that has no spiritual significance or lasting meaning. 

Despite the suffering that comes even from innocent relationships, lustful and obsessive romantic thoughts are particularly damaging. This is evident in the story of Jia Rui, who becomes obsessed with Xi-feng, even though she is married to Jia Lian and has no interest in him. Xi-feng sets up Jia Rui to try to dissuade him from his persistent visits, and he is beaten, cheated, and covered in excrement. Despite this, he finds himself desiring Xi-feng even more—he experiences the contradiction of loving and hating her at once. To cure him, a monk appears and gives him a mirror, explaining:

‘This object comes from the Hall of Emptiness in the Land of Illusion. It was fashioned by the fairy Disenchantment as an antidote to the ill effects of impure mental activity […] I lend it to you on one important condition: you must only look into the back of the mirror’ (251).

Jia Rui can’t resist looking in the front of the mirror, even though he is already on his death bed from his previous pursuit of Xi-feng. He dies in his bed from his lustful thoughts, and though his family tries to mourn him, Impervioso makes it clear that Jia Rui himself is the only one to blame for his suffering.

Although Bao-yu struggles to see the suffering that accompanies love, despite his frequent run-ins with that particular breed of suffering, there is a moment near the end of the novel when he begins to question his focus on women as a sole pursuit. He writes, mostly in anger, about a world without female charms, or any “tender feelings” (421), and he imagines the peace it would bring. Although he quickly rescinds his statement and calls it only a joke, the truth behind his statement is clear: In this brief moment, Bao-yu understands the suffering love brings and the pain that lies beneath “tender feelings.”