ing full well that he is capable of meeting the challenge. The narra-
tive describes the preparation for the performance in vivid detail:
eunuchs supporting Li Bai in his drunken state, the grinding of the
ink, the moistening of the brush, the unfurling of the silk. The
performance itself is described in temporal terms: the speed and
certitude with which it is executed are indicators of Li Bai’s prodi-
gious talent. Even the bold quality of the resulting brushstrokes is
mentioned—as the consummate showman, Li Bai excels in every
aspect of his art. He is “collected” by the emperor as a showpiece for
his court; in the end, Li Bai’s poetic competence is about nothing
more than itself. Such self-referential competence cannot maintain
the poet’s status at court for long. It fails to compensate for his
“carelessness” and his lack of “administrative competence” because it
is not properly deployed to win and maintain political advantage. Li
Bai craves a stage at the center of power upon which he can display
his talent, but when the powerful are no longer dazzled by his tal-
ent, they soon realize that he has nothing else to offer. The story of
Li Bai shows that poetic talent alone is not enough to maintain a
position in the political hierarchy, but the very fact that there is a story of Li Bai shows that poetic talent may constitute itself as
something worthy of record outside the political hierarchy.
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242
Placing the Poem
Li Bai’s immediate performance before the emperor during the
High Tang is transmuted into a deferred “performance” through
writing, in an anecdote about the Mid-Tang poet Bai Juyi 白居易
(772–846).
Minister Bai Juyi had a concubine named Fansu, who was expert at singing, and a singing girl named Xiaoman, who was expert at dancing. Once he
composed a poem, which read in part:
Cherries: Fansu’s mouth,
Willows: Xiaoman’s waist.
He was already quite old when Xiaoman was just at the height of her at-
tractiveness. So he composed lyrics to the melody of “Willow Branch” as a figurative expression of his thoughts. 44 They read: Myriad branches on a single tree in the spring breeze,
Are paler than a golden hue, softer than silk.
In the southeast corner of Yongfeng ward, 45
Not a soul all day: to whom shall it entrust itself?
When Xuanzong [r. 847–860] was in power, the imperial musicians sang
this song. The emperor asked who it was by and where Yongfeng was lo-
cated. Those in attendance answered all of his questions. As a result, he commanded the east commissioner to retrieve two willow branches from
Yongfeng and to plant them within the imperial palace. Bai was moved
that the emperor knew of his reputation and, moreover, that he esteemed
his elegant style. He composed another stanza; its last lines read:
From now on, I surely know that within the constellations,
A pair of stars has been added to the glow of Willow House. 46 (2.4)
—————
44. The song “Willow Branch” 楊柳枝 was originally a yuefu piece of the Han dynasty entitled “Breaking a Willow Branch” 折楊枝. It became a palace-style song 宮詞 in the Sui dynasty, but it was Bai Juyi who refurbished it as a popular piece of music for the quatrain form. His concubine, Fansu, was famous for her performance of it.
45. Yongfeng was the name of a ward in Chang’an.
46. Taiping reads 星 for 枝. This reading matches the rhyme set in the first two lines of the poem (found in juan 37 of Baishi Changqing ji 白氏長慶集): 一樹衰殘
委泥土，雙枝榮耀植天庭. “Willow House” refers to the twenty-fourth of the
twenty-eight Chinese constellations. It includes eight of the stars in the Hydra constellation.
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Placing the Poem
243
白尚書姬人樊素善歌。妓人小蠻善舞。嘗為詩曰。
櫻桃樊素口
楊柳小蠻腰
年既高邁。而小蠻方豐艷。因為楊柳之詞以託意。曰。
一樹春風萬萬枝
嫩於金色軟於絲
永豐坊裡東南角
盡日無人屬阿誰
及宣宗朝。國樂唱是詞。上問誰詞。永豐在何處。左右具以對之。遂因
東使。命取永豐柳兩枝。植於禁中。白感上知其名。且好尚風雅。又為
詩一章。其末句云。
定知此後天文裡
柳宿光中添兩枝
All of the personages in this anecdote may be real, and Bai may have
actually penned the lines attributed to him, but a glaring discrep-
ancy remains. Bai Juyi died one year before the reign of Xuanzong
宣宗 began. This discrepancy could be attributable to scribal error;
perhaps Emperor Wuzong 武宗 (r. 841–846) was meant instead. It is
more likely that it points to the nature of the anecdote itself: it was
cobbled together from “known facts” about these poems with no
particular care paid to historical accuracy. The emphasis is not on
producing a reliable account of the events, but on telling a story
about the interaction between Bai Juyi and the emperor—whoever
that might be—through the medium of poetry.
The narrative portion of the anecdote predisposes us to read the
text of Bai’s “Willow Branch” song “as a figurative expression of his
thoughts.” These thoughts are summed up succinctly in the pre-
ceding line: “He was already quite old when Xiaoman was just at the
height of her attractiveness.” They are given further shading by the
initial couplet quoted in the anecdote, in which Bai compares
Xiaoman’s supple waist to willows. Thus, the stage is set for a song
that figures Xiaoman as a solitary willow in the entertainment
quarters of Chang’an, pining away for a companion who would be
Bai Juyi himself were he not so old. The emperor, appreciating the
figurative aspect of the poem, converts the abstract sentiment into a
concrete symbol by having two branches from a Yongfeng willow
transplanted to the palace gardens, representing the union of the
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244
Placing the Poem
would-be lovers. Bai, to show his appreciation for this gallant ges-
ture, responds with a poem that transports these concrete symbols
to the celestial plane—the heavenly reflection of the imperial court.
Bai Juyi was famous in the entertainment quarters for his popular
songs. Here, one of his songs finds its way into the repertoire of the
imperial musicians—an example of the cross-fertilization that took
place between court music and “popular” music. As we have already
noted, this inward movement of poetry to the center of power is a
common theme in Storied Poems. The imperial musicians’ gathering of poems from outside the court to play for the emperor on the inside mirrors the ancient practice of “gathering poems” touched on in
> Meng Qi’s preface, whereby the music master would play poems to
the king that reflected the grievances and delights of the people. The
shape of the transaction has been preserved here, but the content is
entirely different.
We are no longer dealing with the king as the ultimate audience
for works reflecting the state of mind of the undifferentiated mass of
people. This is a more personal relationship between the emperor
and a member of the elite official class who also happens to be a
famous poet. Such a relationship has already been seen in the an-
ecdote about Li Bai; the difference in this case is that Bai Juyi is not actually in the emperor’s entourage. It is his poem alone that has reached the emperor. Bai is not rewarded for his deft performance of
the poem, but purely for the affective power of the poem—its ability
to move the emperor to respond emotionally. It is a personal ex-
pression of his emotions in “an exquisite composition of lyricism,”
to employ Meng Qi’s phrase. The first two sections of Storied
Poems—“Moved by Emotions” and “Moved by Events”—constitute
half of the bulk of the collection and are filled exclusively with this
type of poetry.
When Meng Qi claims in his own preface to be providing “Lesser
Prefaces” for these types of poems, he may simply be deprecating his
short narratives, but the label strongly evokes the ancient mode of
exegesis found in the Mao prefaces to the Poems. Meng Qi in his
own “Lesser Prefaces” does not mimic the form of his exemplars
(the terse first line followed by a fuller narrative). The form of
narrative he employs in his anecdotes owes more to his source ma-
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Placing the Poem
245
terials than it does to ancient canonical prefaces. Meng’s narratives
do portray the poet as being engaged with society, but on different terms than those found in the “Lesser Prefaces.” The paradigm of
the disgruntled “masses” criticizing or praising their lofty ruler has
been replaced by the figure of the individual literatus negotiating his
relationship with another individual (whether it be a concubine or
the emperor himself ) through the vehicle of poetry. In this case, the
negotiation of that relationship—Bai Juyi’s poetic acknowledgment
of the emperor’s appreciation—becomes part of the very poem that
caught the emperor’s ear in the first place. The reception of the
poem is woven back into its production.
It is no surprise that the court—with its explicit, often formalized,
emphasis on the importance of discourse—is a likely site for the
demonstration of talent through poetic competence, either imme-
diate or deferred. Storied Poems shows that such demonstrations
were conducted in private conversation as well. In such circum-
stances, well away from the arena of authority, wit in poetry is used
as an instrument to build and strengthen bonds of friendship.
Su
Weidao 蘇味道 (648–705) and Zhang Changling 張昌齡,
“both famous for their poetry,” engage in some friendly banter
during their holidays, when they can relax and leave their official
roles behind them.
During the Kaiyuan era, Grand Councilor Su Weidao and Zhang Chang-
ling were both famous for their poetry. 47 They met once while on their holidays and began teasing each other good-naturedly. Changling said:
“The reason my poems are not as good as yours, Sir, is because they lack the phrase ‘silver blossoms close.’” Su had a poem called “Viewing Lanterns” that read:
On trees of fire silver blossoms close, 48
The starry bridge unfurls its iron chains. 49
—————
47. This seems to be the wrong era title since both Su Weidao and Zhang
Changling lived before the Kaiyuan era. Shihua reads 俱有詩名.
48. The image of silver blossoms on trees of fire is a metaphor for the dazzling display of lanterns festooning city streets during a festival.
49. The “starry bridge” refers to the mythical bridge that forms every year on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month in order to allow the Weaving Girl and the Herd Boy to visit one another across the Milky Way.
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246
Placing the Poem
Murky dust whisks off with the horses,
A luminous moon follows from behind.
“Your poems may lack ‘silver blossoms close,’” said Weidao. “But they do have ‘brass nails’ ( jintong ding).” Changling had given a poem to [his older brother] Zhang Changzong that read:
On a day off I am Fu Qiubo, 50
Today I’m just like Ding Lingwei ( jin
tong Ding Lingwei). 51
They both clapped their hands and laughed together. (7.4)
開元中。宰相蘇味道與張昌齡俱有名。暇日相遇。互相誇誚。昌齡曰。
某詩所以不及相公者。為無銀花合故也。蘇有觀燈詩曰。
火樹銀花合
星橋鐵鎖開
暗塵隨馬去
明月逐人來
味道云。子詩雖無銀花合。還有金銅釘。昌齡贈張昌宗詩曰。
息日浮丘伯
今同丁令威
遂相與拊掌而笑。
The pun here is found in poetry already composed and hinges on
aurally discerning a coincidence in the pronunciation of three
characters. This is evidence that in the Tang poems continued to be
first and foremost for the ear rather than the eye. The whole ex-
change is contingent upon each man’s intimate familiarity with the
other’s corpus of poetry. The narrative must pause to quote the
relevant lines so that the reader may share in the joke. The entire
anecdote suggests that knowing a man well includes knowing his
—————
50. Fu Qiubo was the name of the immortal who led Wangzi Qiao up a lofty mountain by his sleeve.
51. The first three characters of this line ( jin tong ding 今同丁) are homophonous with the characters for “brass nails” ( jin tong ding 金銅釘). In folklore, Ding Lingwei is a Han figure who went to study the occult on Lingxu mountain. He succeeded in becoming an immortal and returned to his hometown in the form of a crane. When a young boy tried to shoot him down, he flew off, chanting a poem lamenting the changes that had taken place in the people during his absence.
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Placing the Poem
247
poetry well, and that poetic wit can be demonstrated in fanciful
“reading” of poetry and not just in the production of it.
A similar interaction based on fanciful readings occurs when
Zhang Hu 張祜 meets Bai Juyi for the first time.
The poet Zhang Hu had never made the acquaintance of Bai Juyi. When
the Honorable Bai was prefect of Suzhou, Hu came to visit him for the first time, and upon meeting him Bai said, “I’ve been a great admirer of yours for a long time. I remember the poem you wrote for your examination.” 52
Hu was amazed and asked, “What does Secretary Bai mean?” Bai repli
ed,
Where has the mandarin duck filigreed sash
been cast aside?
To whom has the peacock silken gown
been entrusted?
“Is this not your examination poem?” Zhang lowered his head53 and smiled, then looked up and replied, “I too remember the Secretary’s ‘Song of
Mulian.’” Bai asked, “What is it?” Hu said,
Above, the endless Blue Vault; below, the
Yellow Springs, 54
Both planes vast and boundless, in neither
was she seen.
“Is this not the ‘Song of Mulian’?” 55 And so the two of them drank together joyfully the whole day through. (7.5)
詩人張祜。未嘗識白公。白公刺蘇州。祜始來謁。才見白。白曰。久欽
籍。嘗記得君款頭詩。祜愕然曰。舍人何所謂。白曰。
鴛鴦鈿帶拋何處
孔雀羅衫付阿誰
非疑頭何邪。張頓首微笑。仰而答曰。祜亦嘗記得舍人目連變。白
曰。何也。祜曰。
—————
52. Taiping adds 甚 before 欽. Shihua reads 問頭詩 instead of 款頭詩. This was a Tang term for poems written for the civil service examinations.
53. Taiping reads 張頫.
54. The “Blue Vault” is a Taoist term for the sky. The “Yellow Springs” refer to the underworld.
55. Mulian is the abbreviated Chinese transcription of Sanskrit for Maud-galyayana, the hero of Buddhist folklore who went to the underworld to rescue his mother.
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Placing the Poem
上窮碧落下黃泉
兩處茫茫皆不見
非目連變何邪。遂與歡晏竟日。
In this case, the fanciful reading takes the form of willful misattri-
bution. The lines that Bai Juyi quotes actually come from a poem of
Zhang Hu’s titled “Moved by the Death of General Wang’s ‘Thorn
Branch’ Dancer” 感王將軍柘枝妓歿, a sensual evocation of the
absent beloved. Bai seems to be having some fun at Zhang’s expense
by suggesting he would write such a sensual poem on his examina-
tion. This is why Zhang bashfully lowers his head and smiles. But he
soon turns the tables on Bai Juyi and demonstrates his own wit by
Words Well Put Page 37