Hung Lou Meng - book 1 | Page 4

in need of relaxation from the pressure
of business, take up this light literature, and not only expunge the traces
of antiquated books, and obtain a new kind of distraction, but that they
may also lay by a long life as well as energy and strength; for it bears
no point of similarity to those works, whose designs are false, whose
course is immoral. Now, Sir Priest, what are your views on the
subject?"
K'ung K'ung having pondered for a while over the words, to which he
had listened intently, re-perused, throughout, this record of the stone;
and finding that the general purport consisted of nought else than a
treatise on love, and likewise of an accurate transcription of facts,
without the least taint of profligacy injurious to the times, he thereupon
copied the contents, from beginning to end, to the intent of charging the
world to hand them down as a strange story.

Hence it was that K'ung K'ung, the Taoist, in consequence of his
perception, (in his state of) abstraction, of passion, the generation, from
this passion, of voluptuousness, the transmission of this voluptuousness
into passion, and the apprehension, by means of passion, of its unreality,
forthwith altered his name for that of "Ch'ing Tseng" (the Voluptuous
Bonze), and changed the title of "the Memoir of a Stone"
(Shih-t'ou-chi,) for that of "Ch'ing Tseng Lu," The Record of the
Voluptuous Bonze; while K'ung Mei-chi of Tung Lu gave it the name
of "Feng Yüeh Pao Chien," "The Precious Mirror of Voluptuousness."
In later years, owing to the devotion by Tsao Hsüeh-ch'in in the Tao
Hung study, of ten years to the perusal and revision of the work, the
additions and modifications effected by him five times, the affix of an
index and the division into periods and chapters, the book was again
entitled "Chin Ling Shih Erh Ch'ai," "The Twelve Maidens of Chin
Ling." A stanza was furthermore composed for the purpose. This then,
and no other, is the origin of the Record of the Stone. The poet says
appositely:--
Pages full of silly litter, Tears a handful sour and bitter; All a fool the
author hold, But their zest who can unfold?
You have now understood the causes which brought about the Record
of the Stone, but as you are not, as yet, aware what characters are
depicted, and what circumstances are related on the surface of the block,
reader, please lend an ear to the narrative on the stone, which runs as
follows:--
In old days, the land in the South East lay low. In this South-East part
of the world, was situated a walled town, Ku Su by name. Within the
walls a locality, called the Ch'ang Men, was more than all others
throughout the mortal world, the centre, which held the second, if not
the first place for fashion and life. Beyond this Ch'ang Men was a street
called Shih-li-chieh (Ten Li street); in this street a lane, the Jen Ch'ing
lane (Humanity and Purity); and in this lane stood an old temple, which
on account of its diminutive dimensions, was called, by general consent,
the Gourd temple. Next door to this temple lived the family of a district
official, Chen by surname, Fei by name, and Shih-yin by style. His wife,

née Feng, possessed a worthy and virtuous disposition, and had a clear
perception of moral propriety and good conduct. This family, though
not in actual possession of excessive affluence and honours, was,
nevertheless, in their district, conceded to be a clan of well-to-do
standing. As this Chen Shih-yin was of a contented and unambitious
frame of mind, and entertained no hankering after any official
distinction, but day after day of his life took delight in gazing at flowers,
planting bamboos, sipping his wine and conning poetical works, he was
in fact, in the indulgence of these pursuits, as happy as a supernatural
being.
One thing alone marred his happiness. He had lived over half a century
and had, as yet, no male offspring around his knees. He had one only
child, a daughter, whose infant name was Ying Lien. She was just three
years of age. On a long summer day, on which the heat had been
intense, Shih-yin sat leisurely in his library. Feeling his hand tired, he
dropped the book he held, leant his head on a teapoy, and fell asleep.
Of a sudden, while in this state of unconsciousness, it seemed as if he
had betaken himself on foot to some spot or other whither he could not
discriminate. Unexpectedly he espied, in the opposite direction, two
priests coming towards him: the one a Buddhist, the other a Taoist. As
they advanced they kept up the conversation in which they were
engaged. "Whither do you purpose taking the object you have