by Chen Jack W
25. West Mountain, in the first line, was the legendary home of the recluses Bo Yi 伯夷
and Shu Qi 叔齊, who chose to starve to death rather than serve the Zhou dynasty, which had overthrown the Shang. For the complete narrative of their lives, see Shi ji, 61.2121–29.
26. The phrase “immortal youths” ( xiantong 仙童) generally refers to immortal servant boys, though its mention in conjunction with West Mountain suggests a strange, Daoist transformation of the Bo Yi and Shu Qi legend.
27. Peng Zu was an immortal famed for his longevity.
28. Lao Dan is the name of the sage Laozi 老子, who eventually made a journey westward out of China, in order to bring his teachings to the “barbarians.”
29. Qiao the Prince and Red Pine are also names of immortals associated with alchemical teachings and immortal elixirs.
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The Writing of Imperial Poetry in Medieval China
While foolish people love absurd legends.
愚夫好妄傳。
I recall matters of the ancient past —
追念往古事，
Utter chaos with thousands of doctrines.
憒憒千萬端。
The hundred schools are mostly perverse and
百家多迂怪，
weird,
The Way of the Sage is what I will peruse.
聖道我所觀。
[rhyme:
元 ngwan / 寒 ghan]
Cao Pi’s poem recalls other Daoist-influenced poetic journeys, including
several written by his father, Cao Cao, that describe arcane visions of par-
adise. Yet, in contrast to the usual transcendent climax, Cao Pi merely re-
ports the unfamiliarity of the vast and vague expanses, seeing not a vision
but only confused haziness. At this point, exactly halfway through the po-
em, the rhyme changes, marking the introduction of a new theme.30 In
this second half of the poem, then, Cao Pi recalls the legends of famous
long-lived figures and immortals such as Peng Zu, Lao Dan, Qiao the
Prince, and Red Pine, but only to cast doubt on their teachings. He dis-
misses the dream of immortality as the foolish hope of the ignorant, prais-
ing the “attained men” ( daren 達人) who have the capacity to tell truth
from fiction. He ends the poem with a rejection of all other schools of
thought, choosing only to follow the “Way of the Sage”—which is to say,
the doctrines of Confucius.
By rejecting the Daoist immortality quest, Cao Pi rewrites the normal
trajectory and ending of poetic conventions. This is an essentially negative
move, and yet, as such, it can only be temporary: the poet must resolve the
negation by assuming a different voice. For Cao Pi, the exchange of Dao-
ism for Confucianism represents merely the choice of one conventional
persona over another, which firmly lodges the poet within the poetic ho-
—————
30. While the phonological transcription here is that of David Branner’s Yīntōng (which follows the Song dynasty Guangyun), the rhyme categories here are those provided in Ting Pang-hsin, Chinese Phonology of the Wei-Chin Period, pp. 159-60. Ting identifies a cross-rhyme ( tongyun 通韻) between the 元 and 寒 categories; this is indicated in the above transcription (and in all later cases of cross-rhyme) by the use of the “slash” mark. There are obvious differences in the rhyme categories used in early medieval China and those defined during the later Song dynasty. Relevant to this is William H. Baxter’s point that the Qieyun 切韻 ( Articulation of Rhymes), compiled in 601 by Lu Fayan 陸法言 (fl. 581–617), did not observe a distinction in rhyme categories between - an and - wan finals—a finer distinction that the Guangyun did make. See Baxter, Handbook of Old Chinese Phonology, p. 40.
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The Writing of Imperial Poetry in Medieval China
173
rizons of yuefu poetry. This is not to deny Cao Pi his literary achievement, which may be said to lay the foundations for the later development of an
imperial poetics. The political argument of Cao Pi’s poem is articulated
through the problem of self-representation. If this poem was indeed com-
posed after his accession in 220, then the rejection of the Daoist immor-
tality topos would resonate with a rejection of the First Emperor and Han
Wudi’s attempts to win immortality.31
In arguing against transcendental pleasure, Cao Pi constructs a rheto-
ric of self-denial, one that negates the option of escape from the mundane
world while claiming the embrace of moral virtue. Yet to claim virtue or
dismiss pleasure out of hand would seem puritanical, if not arrogant and
boastful. Thus, Cao Pi first indulges himself in the fantasy of transcen-
dence, establishing and articulating what it is precisely that he intends to
reject. Within the glimpse of the denied fantasy, of course, is the possibil-
ity of seduction, but without temptation, there can be no claimed
achievement of virtuous self control. This follows the logic of apophasis,
the rhetorical denial of a proposition even as that same proposition is em-
phasized in the act of denial.32 By means of a negative poetics, Cao Pi of-
fers a solution to what would emerge as a central problem in the represen-
tation of sovereign virtue. The apophatic gesture represents virtue
indirectly by pointing to the poet’s own inadequacies and acknowledging
his weaknesses, even as it shows the poet overcoming them. The pathos of
the conversion narrative informs in the poet’s self-denial, and for the em-
peror who understands this, it elevates personal moral restraint through
the dynamism of dramatic performance.
That Cao Pi took the writing of poetry as fundamental to the work of
sovereignty is apparent in his theoretical discussion of literature. Yet Cao
Pi’s attention to literature, as I have argued in the previous chapter, also
—————
31. Of course, this is a strategic argument, rather than an ideological one. Cao Pi made use of Zhuangzian rhetoric and Daoist sect prophecies in consolidating his claim to the throne.
See Goodman, Ts’ao P’i Transcendent, pp. 73–87.
32. Often apophasis is defined as a kind of ironic denial. For example, the eighteenth-century rhetorician Thomas Gibbons (following Cicero) writes, “Apophasis, or denial, is a Figure by which an Orator pretends to conceal or omit what he really and in fact declares.”
In Gibbons, Rhetoric, p. 157. I would argue that if the trope is taken simply in terms of its formal characteristics, then it might be better understood as a form of dialectical negation, which preserves that which it negates and does not necessarily involve irony.
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The Writing of Imperial Poetry in Medieval China
points to a certain interest in the private, which would increasingly domi-
nate literary concerns during the Southern Dynasties. It has long been a
historical commonplace that the southern rulers during the Period of
Disunion neglected their political responsibilities in favor of literary ac-
tivities and sensual pleasures. Indeed, for the early Tang, the image of the
Southern Dynasties as
celebrating the idle pleasures of the inner palace,
ladies’ boudoirs, and lotus ponds was central to the historiographic con-
struction of their dynastic identity. This was, of course, historically inac-
curate, as the long and stable reign of Liang Wudi (Xiao Yan 蕭衍, 464–
549) would attest. However, what fired the indignations of later histori-
ans and critics was the way in which poetic innovations that emerged dur-
ing the Qi, Liang, and Chen condoned the separation of poetic discourses
and imperial duty.
Three Poet-Emperors of the South
From the perspective of literary history, it was Liang Wudi’s son, Xiao
Gang, who would be remembered as the most talented of the southern
poet-emperors, being closely identified with the emergence of the so-
called “palace-style poetry.”33 However, most of Xiao Gang’s surviving
poems date from before his unfortunate accession under control of the
warlord Hou Jing.34 In fact, the only poem that can be safely dated to
Xiao Gang’s brief reign is the desolate poem, “Imprisoned, Telling of My
Aims” 被幽述志, which ends with the couplet, “Queli has long been
sunken into weeds, / Cerulean Heaven pointlessly shines upon my heart”
闕里長蕪沒，蒼天空照心.35 Queli was the hometown of Confucius,
now overgrown with weeds, providing a bleak comparison to Liang Jian-
wendi’s view of the doomed Liang. Having been forced into the role of
sovereign, Xiao Gang speaks here through the negation of imperial voice,
within a voice that does not claim political achievement but only ac-
—————
33. For two different perspectives on gongti shi, see Ronald C. Miao, “Palace-Style Poetry”; and Tian, Beacon Fire and Shooting Star, pp. 162–210.
34. On Hou Jing, see Pearce, “Who, or What, Was Hou Jing?”
35. See Daoxuan 道宣 (596–667), comp., Guang Hongming ji, 40.3a. Also see Xian Qin Han Wei Jin Nanbeichao shi, p. 1979. For full translations, see Marney, Liang Chien-Wen Ti, p. 172; and Tian, Beacon Fire and Shooting Star, pp. 306–307.
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The Writing of Imperial Poetry in Medieval China
175
knowledges the impotence of his present situation, and by extension, of
his dynasty.
Xiao Gang’s poem is utterly different in tone and style from the poems
for which he is known—poems that mostly celebrate the pleasures of pal-
ace life. For an example of an imperial poem that conforms to how the
Liang has been remembered in literary history, one must turn instead to
Xiao Gang’s father, Liang Wudi. It should be remembered that Wudi,
prior to his rebellion against the Qi, had been one of the famed “Eight
Companions of the Prince of Jingling” 竟陵八友. This was the literary
salon hosted by Xiao Ziliang 蕭子良 (460–94), a prince of the Southern
Qi dynasty and the younger brother of the Crown Prince Xiao Chang-
mao 蕭長懋 (458–93). After his overthrow of the Qi, Wudi continued to
pursue his interests in poetic composition, including his fascination with
what is usually called “popular song” ( minjian gequ 民間歌曲) or “little
poems” ( xiaoshi 小詩).36 While many of the poems are not datable,
Wudi’s seven “Jiangnan Lieder” 江南弄 can be dated to the winter of
512–13, following a passage from the Gujin yuelu 古今樂錄 ( Annotations
for Music Past and Present). The Gujin yuelu also relates how Wudi created the new “Jiangnan Lieder” out of earlier “Western Melodies” 西曲
compositions, a body of southern yuefu compositions centered around the
Jiangling region that often dealt with the separation of merchant hus-
bands from their wives.37 Here, I translate the first of the set:
—————
36. Nie Shiqiao 聶石樵 points out how Wudi loved the songs of the Xiangyang 襄陽 re-
gion (in modern-day Hubei) and that his imitations, which include four pieces in each season of the “Ziye Songs of the Four Seasons” 子夜四時歌, were largely indistinguishable
from the putative “originals.” See Nie, Xian Qin Liang Han Wei Jin Nanbeichao wenxue-shi, p. 302. Anne Birrell argues against imperial attributions of such songs (though most scholars now accept these), in Games Poets Play, pp. 112–15.
37. The Gujin yuelu was compiled by the Chen dynasty monk Zhijiang 智匠. This comment is preserved in Yuefu shiji, 50.726. The Qing scholar Huang Shi 黃奭 (fl. late 19th century) collected extant fragments of Gujin yuelu in one juan; this is reprinted in Sichuan daxue guji zhengli yanjiu suo and Zhonghua zhuzi baozang bianzuan weiyuanhui, eds.,
Zhuzi jicheng bubian, vol. 3, pp. 765–84. The “Western Melodies” were a song tradition based in the Jiangling 江陵 and Xiangyang 襄陽 city regions. See Wang Yunxi, Liuchao yuefu yu minge, pp. 26–28; and Wagner, Lotus Boat, p. 55.
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176
The Writing of Imperial Poetry in Medieval China
A Jiangnan Lied 江南弄38
Multitudes of flowers in diverse colors fill the
眾花雜色滿上林，
Imperial
Park,
Pervasive fragrance and brilliant green trail
舒芳耀綠垂輕陰。
down in the trees’ sparse shade.
They clasp hands, lightly stepping, the
連手躞蹀舞春心。
springtime heart is set adance.
The springtime heart is set adance,
舞春心，
Facing the season’s fecundity.
臨歲腴。
A palace woman gazes out,
中人望，
All alone, she paces back and forth.
獨踟躕。
The poem begins by describing the imperial park (using Han conven-
tions), with its multitude of colors and floral perfumes. The poet’s eye
then sweeps downwards, from the arboreal greenery to the shade beneath
the trees, where a dance performance of palace women is taking place.
However, at the height of this scene, which overlays sensuous beauty with
erotic suggestion, the poet abruptly turns to a solitary palace woman who,
lost in unresolved longing, gazes out to someone who is not there. It was a
convention of banquet poems to mark the height of pleasure during the
party as the same moment when happiness suddenly was transformed into
sadness. Here, the balancing tension between joy and sorrow is provided
by the solitary palace woman who stands outside of the celebration. As
—————
38. See Wenyuan yinghua, 201.995b; Yuefu shiji, 50.726; and Xian Qin Han Wei Jin Nanbeichao shi, p. 1522. While the Song edition of Yutai xinyong does not include the poem, it is found in the Qing edition of the Yutai xinyong, upon which the modern critical edition of the anthology is based. See Xu Ling, comp., Yutai xinyong jianzhu 玉臺新詠箋注, 9.451. There are some problems with the texts as they have been edited and transmitted.
The Yuefu shiji preserves commentary from the Gujin yuelu for each of the seven pieces that provides the title and first line of the poems on which Wudi based the new “Jiangnan Lieder.” The Wenyuan yinghua, which preserves the first, third, and fifth poems of the set, omits the Gujin yuelu note for the first poem, but incorporates the note as the first couplet for the third an
d fifth poems. Feng Weine 馮惟訥 (1512–72) in his Gushi ji 古詩紀 ( Record of Ancient Poems), and Lu Qinli, apparently following Feng, treat the Gujin yuelu notes as the original subtitles of the poems. See Gushi ji, 74.7–9, in Yingyin Wenyuange Si-ku quanshu, vol. 1380, pp. 4b–5b. In his discussion of the “Jiangnan Lieder” (which focuses on Xiao Gang’s set of poems), Joseph R. Allen also treats the Gujin yuelu notes as subtitles provided by the poet. See Allen, In the Voice of Others, pp. 124–29. Tian translates and discusses the third poem of the set in Beacon Fire and Shooting Star, pp. 351–52.
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The Writing of Imperial Poetry in Medieval China
177
the final image of the poem, what she suggests is that the springtime of
desire will inevitably lead to heartbreak, a parallel construction to the
banquet poem’s abrupt change of mood.
In this kind of poetry, the imperial voice was displaced by an aesthetic
of feminine heartbreak and desire. However, a kind of imperial presence
remains at the margins of the poem, since the palatial setting, denoted by
the reference to the Imperial Park, provides an inescapable reminder that
it is the emperor who voyeuristically enjoys the palace woman’s suffering.
As one can see, the delight in sensuousness and love-longing stands in
sharp contrast to the Liang founder’s reputation for sober-minded ruler-
ship and his devotion to Buddhism. It was this style of poetry that would
garner the opprobrium of early Tang historians, particularly when com-
bined with the kind of failure of sovereignty that one finds in Chen Shu-
bao 陳叔寶 (553–604), who would be known to history as Chen Houzhu
陳後主 (r. 582–89), the decadent last ruler of the Chen dynasty. Chen
Houzhu’s most famous poem was a song that can be dated to or after 584,
the second year of the Zhide 至德 reign:39