Introduction

Introduction

The Tang Dynasty is the golden age of Chinese poetry. The Late Tang is a harvest season of the golden age, an era prolific in great poets. Wen Tingyun (798-868?) is a great master of poetry of the Late Tang and the vanguard of a newly emerging poetic subgenre of his time, the ci poetry that became prevalent in the Song Dynasty and has captivated generations of Chinese readers up to modern times.

The aim of this book is to rediscover Wen Tingyun the man, so as to reevaluate Wen Tingyun the poet. We will find out what Wen writes about in his poetry and how he writes it. To this purpose, apart from exploring Wen’s intricate life with an understanding of his unique poetic style, we will also use the uncovered historical events related to his life as a key to enter and travel through his poetic labyrinth. This book is thus entitled “Historical Key to A Poetic Labyrinth–Rediscovering Wen Tingyun”.

The Time of Wen Tingyun: Rampant Eunuch Power

For all its cultural exuberance and prosperity, the Late Tang is a time filled with troubles both internal and external. The eunuch usurpation of court power was its most conspicuous and serious political problem. As an outgrowth of the highly centralized imperial supremacy, this problem arose during the An-Shi Rebellion (755-63). ¹ In the decades after the Rebellion the emperors seem to have taken a wrong lesson from it, by lessening their confidence in the court officials, but entrusting increasing power to the eunuchs, their “safe” household slaves. Once this transfer of power was institutionalized and became a fait ac­compli, the eunuchs were no longer isolated palace slaves at the emperors’ mercy. Not only did they take control of religious and economic affairs, but they also played a part in military manipulations and political decision-making at the top level. They even became able to enthron­e and dethrone the emperors, and had the lives of emperors at their disposal.² This eunuch infiltration of the power structure greatly accelerated and finally precipitated the downfall of the dynasty. Controlling the emperors as an emblem of their supremacy, the eunuchs generally aggravated the contradictions among the court officials and intensified factional strife. As a result of this situation, the “Southern Office” (court officials), vis-à-vis the “North­ern Office” (the eunuchs), polarized into two factions, the Niu Faction and the Li Faction. Initially and essentially, the two factions stood for different political responses to the Yongzhen Reform (805), even though their later factional proclivities were often not easy to define. Faced with the factional struggles prevalent under eunuch power, any honest literary man would encounter great difficulties in establishing successful political career for himself.

Out of a concern for their own vested interests, court officials in power from either faction often adopted a vacillating, if not ambiguous, attitude towards initiating strong measures to deal with the eunuchs. This vacillation can account in part why the “Southern Office” failed in the Yongzhen Reform and the Sweet Dew Incident (836), the two events most representative of its efforts to curb the eunuchs. The Yongzhen Reform attempted to get rid of eunuch power, while the Sweet Dew Incident was aimed directly at the annihilation of the eunuchs themselves. In both cases, however, the court officials never closed ranks, but remained at odds with one another over the effectiveness of radical actions. Actually, the literati in general were willing, but not daring and firm enough, to oppose the eunuchs. As a result, the participants in the two events were politically too weak to be a match for the eunuchs, even though they succeeded in enlisting the support of the emperors. Most of the Yongzhen reformers were condemned to life-long banishment, and all the Sweet Dew Incident plotters suffered clan extermination. It was not until toward the end of the dynasty, 901, when absolution came in form of an “Act of Grace”, ³ that they were rehabilitated. Since the eunuch power existed in a kind of symbiosis with the Tang royal clan, some people preferred to join forces with them to guarantee a smoother official course of action, or a more favorable official position and career. In fact, anyone in office had to come to terms and cooperate with them in order not to invite failure. The so-called “Yuanhe Restoration” accomplished by Emperor Xianzong (r. 805-20) and Pei Du (765-839), and the Governance of Huichang effected by Li Deyu (787-850) and his followers, are two cases in point. In both cases the Tang court succeeded in recapturing territories occupied by semi-independent satraps, somewhat reanimating a body politic that was near collapse. In neither instance, however, was the eunuch problem addressed. Rather, it was because Pei and Li refrained from stirring up the “hornets’ nest” of the eunuchs that they were able to enjoy a measure of success in the military campaigns they led. Their military operations were, in fact, approved by the eunuchs, because, after all, the eunuchs’ parasitic benefits depended on a viable Tang state power. Actually, neither Pei nor Li could avoid the misfortunes, which the eunuchs inflicted. Adamant and ironhanded as Li Deyu was in rendering meritorious services to the Empire, he was thrown out of the political arena as soon as the eunuchs set a successor, Emperor Xuanzong (r. 846-859) upon the throne. Li Deyu then died in exile, a victim of factional strife, or, more accurately, of eunuch politics. Pei was luckier than Li. However, effective as he was in his official duties, he also had to suffer demotions resulting from political pressures from the opposing factions, with the connivance, or at the instigation of the eunuchs. Another striking example was Liu Fen⁴ (fl. 832), who, for all his fearlessness in expressing the general indignation against the eunuchs, brought more disgrace than glory upon himself.

In the literary and ideological domain, there was a concerted effort to invigorate Confucianism, embodied by the Ancient Prose Movement and the New Music Bureau Movement, as a remedy for the maladies of the time. Many outstanding representatives of the literati’s society, such as Han Yu (768-824), ⁵ Liu Zongyuan (773-819), ⁶ Liu Yuxi (772-842) and Li Ao (772-841) ⁷ contributed to the revitalization of the Confucian doctrine and blazed a trail for the Song Neo-Confucianism, which then crystallized to become the dominant ideology for the next thousand years. But this in no sense offered miraculous cure for the political disorders of the Empire, and had no effect in curbing eunuch power. Disillusioned by the grim realities, the Late Tang literati adopted a pragmatic and worldly stance and resigned themselves to uncontrollable historical forces. Apart from the Confucianism they espoused in their official or political life, they showed more interest in religious philosophies, such as Buddhism⁸ and Taoism. On the other hand, in their private lives, the Late Tang literati are well known for their hedon­ism. Even great statesmen or poets famous for their con­cern about the country’s plight and the people’s livelihoods were no exceptions. For example, Bai Juyi (772-846), the chief leader of the New Music Bureau Movement, now became a devout Buddhist layman, enjoying to the full his life of wealth and rank, having long since forgotten his dauntless remonstrance with Emperor Xianzong in his capacity as Attending Censor. One of the main participants in the Sweet Dew Incident, Wang Ya (765? -835) became notorious after his exe­cution, when the great fortune he had amassed became known.

Living in a time with these pervasive general tendencies, Wen might attempt to seek for an official position to realize his political ideals, to look for a spiritual asylum in Buddist philosophy in his frustrations, or to enjoy life as he could. However, he was destined to be at odds with fate.

The Study of Wen Tingyun: Lasting Historical Prejudices

That Wen’s reputation has suffered badly before and after his death stems from the eunuch problem. The major events of his life have been distorted or at least covered up, and not even Wen himself dared record the relevant events in clear terms. Consequently, Wen’s poetry and personality have been misunderstood to a very serious degree and his true features have been enveloped in a twofold veil of historical prejudice and literary obscurity. Therefore, further research concerning Wen Tingyun the man and thus the poet is a pressing academic necessity.

One of the main sources for later compilation of histories, official documents of the Late Tang, espe­cially those closely concerned with the eunuchs’ clandestine affairs, were drafted under the eunuchs’ influences. ⁹ Moreover, the original materials surviving the chaos prior to the Song Dynasty were subjected to the biased dispositions of the Song official historiographers. Thus the two Tang Histories (JTS and XTS) written by them fail to give an acceptable account of the eunuch problems that bear closely upon Wen’s life. One more adverse factor is that, although containing important information, Wen’s poetry and prose are too obscure and difficult for the casual historiographer-readers to fathom, and hence to utilize.

In consequence of all the above, no Chinese scholars since the Song Dynasty have made a thorough study of Wen Tingyun and many modern scholars generally accept the view that Wen was a libertine and a dandy, a poet of aestheticist originality, capable of every mischief, but incapable of any concern for his country and people. It is generally believed that there is no great artistic value to be found in his works, whatever form they might assume; hence there is a tendency to devaluate Wen’s works because of his problematic personality. It follows that many of his works have been misinterpreted or simply excluded from serious studies. However, these same works often assert themselves in one way or another in favor of their author as a poet engagé. Readers of them can sense to some degree that there is a unique and profound beauty in his poetry that must have at its root some foundation in reality, compelling a serious reading. Recognition of this has given rise to another approach, by critics who sense the artistic beauty in many of Wen’s poems, and disregard former criticisms of all shades. They do not hesitate to praise Wen in the highest terms, likening him to Qu Yuan and Li Bai, ¹⁰ poets of everlasting popularity in Chinese literary history. In the eyes of the orthodox critics, however, such critics overestimate Wen’s poetic attainments. To mediate between the two extreme tendencies, there is a third approach that eschews the efforts to seek conformity between the personality of the poet and the works, and is interested only in passing judgment on Wen’s individual works. This approach, however, while seeming justifiable, may lead to another kind of falsehood.

To judge which of these three tendencies is the more reasonable, a comprehensive study of Wen Tingyun is requisite, for which, an exhaustive research of Wen’s Collected Poems is indispensable. The Annotations and Explanations of Wen Feiqing’s Collected Poems (WFQ), the only effort heretofore aimed at understanding all of Wen’s collected poems, unfortunately, fails to make any logical and chronological rearrangement of Wen’s poems and thus is unable to point out what each poem it annotates is about, leaving the reader in darkness to find his own way. In consequence, very few modern scholars in last century have bothered to take up this study, and few significant breakthroughs on this study have appeared. Scholars have attached more importance to his ci than to shi poetry, but have not yet reached a just and sound reevaluation of Wen Tingyun as a whole, conforming to the general tendency of studying his works without adequate knowledge of his life.

Since Wen was capable of writing with both simple and complex artistic expressions, it is only logical that he adopted an ambiguous style when dealing with subtle political taboos, especially the eunuch problems. By exposing the eunuchs’ ulterior activities, Wen’s poetry fills in this historical gap, providing very precious pieces of information, which can enable us to view his time from a fresh perspective. Wen’s ambiguity serves to keep his enigmas from being unraveled and to prevent him from being understood. But ambiguity was Wen’s only option. He employed it to ensure that the concerns in the inmost recesses of his heart would not die with him and to ensure that he could rest assured in hope of future understanding. It has been regretful that some of his literary creations have misled the vast majority of his readers, exceeding and going counter to his expectation. To give him a relatively pertinent reappraisal, we must first try to clarify the major events of his life.

The key to clarifying Wen’s life lies in maximum utilization of the limited sources available. To do this, we must make a painstaking study of his most ambiguous poems, those that are bound up with the most sensitive parts of history, and through this study make a breakthrough to actual events in his life. For this so-called breakthrough, we will depend on Wen’s epistles for the underlying messages, and weave together all the narrative threads into a biography, which can stand close scrutiny. To base our rewrite of the poet’s life on solid arguments, we will use the information derived from the following poem as a foundation for our framework. The lengthy title of this poem reads:

In the Autumn of the Fifth Year of Kaicheng, Because of Contracting A Kind of Disease Lying in Bed in the Suburban Wilds of the Capital, I Could Not Go to the Princely Estab­lishment in the Company of the Local Representative. I Was about to Betake My­self to A Far Place. Amidst Feelings of Self-pity in the Depths of the Winter, I Unbosomed Myself in One Hundred Rhymes And Sent Them to Palace Censor Xu [Shang], Investigat­ing Censors Chen [Gu] and Li [Yuan], Attending Censor Su of Huizhong, And Defender of Hu County, Wei; And Also I Presented the Poem to Three Friends of Mine: Yuan Jiao, Miao Shen And Li Yi ¹¹

This autobiographical poem (“Hundred-Rhyme Poem” henceforward) includes important information concerning all the events of Wen’s life up to the fifth year of Kaicheng (840) when Wen composed it; it even hints at many consequences Wen had to face after that year. With a view to adumbrating Wen’s life, we use it as a time coordinate when we study the relevant events. Thus, many of its couplets, designated by the number of the rhymes in it, appear and reappear in the chapters to follow.

We will not agree with some old-type Chinese scholars who fill their annotations with specious statements quoted out of context, and seldom bother to give a line-to-line paraphrase to the poem itself. Nor will we follow some new-style critics who apply their general theory to a poem even before they really understand each of its lines. We will concentrate our efforts on finding out the major events reflected in the poem, which relate to Wen’s life and affect his poetry. To do this, we will encounter difficulties, because, sardonically, it is not always safe to unlock the Sphinx imprisoned in Wen’s poems.

Since it is a reflection of his life, it is only reasonable that Wen’s poetry should be complex; to regard him as one who played with words or who was unable to express himself clearly, is equally wrong. Few other Chinese poets had as many ups and downs and twists and turns in their lives. In Wen’s case, these were closely linked to the concurrent political situation and left imprints in his personality. Some of Wen’s poems, regarded inexplicable by tradition, are undoubtedly explicable, as we have to stress repeatedly. In writing about his life, Wen only fol­lowed the traditional path of belles lettres. Traveling further along that path, however, he reached the summit–a summit that is at the same time a dead end. In Chinese poetic his­tory, few poets have produced poetry so beautiful and elegant as his, which explains why we say that Wen has reached the summit of poetic beauty. On the other hand, few poets have resorted so heavily to erudition and literary artifices as he did, to the bewilderment of later readers, and thus the summit Wen reached is also a dead end.

We find it very interesting that Wen was, in one way or another, linked with many important figures of the time mentioned earlier. It is even more interesting that many favorable or unfavorable turns of his life and his poetry are so closely related to the major political events of his day. Wen did, after all, leave in his works all the key information, which enables us to really know his life and feelings, and he did this quite deliberately. Facts can really be stranger than fiction. After long deliberation, I have discovered and wish to add the following six details to the life of a misunderstood Wen Tingyun.¹²

(1) Born in 798 into a family of imperial relatives, ever since his very childhood, Wen had carried on an inherited feud against the power-entrenched eunuchs. (2) Wen’s marriage in Jianghuai region with a prostitute-singer (836) typifies the “misconduct” which was exploited by his enemies to block any political advance on his part. (3) Wen’s professional teacher Li Cheng (768? -841) recommended him (837) to Emperor Wenzong as literary attendant to Li Yong (827-38), the Heir Apparent; thus Wen found an opportunity to directly serve his country and lord, even though deeply involved in a series of inner palace political conflicts. (4) In 839, after the Heir Apparent’s tragic death, and with the aid of powerful recommendations, Wen changed his name to participate in the Metropolitan Prefecture Examination, achieving at one stroke “Equivalent to Passing;” however, when the change of his name came to light, he “failed to pass” and was forced to run for his life (840). (6) After the beginning of Dazhong era (847-60), and after persistent attempts over many years, Wen passed the Presented Scholar Examination, and passed with a meaningful demotion (859).

Equipped with these clarified details concerning his life, we also come to a new understanding of Wen’s poetic style, especially of his magnum opus, the series of the Fourteen Pusaman ci poems, whose explanation has long been a matter of vehement academic controversy in Chinese literary history. By taking into consideration the background against which the Pusaman series was composed, we have attempted to use Wen’s own poetic techniques to fathom his poetry and conclude that this series is much more than merely a group of palace-style poems, as traditional critique represents them. For, throughout the series we find messages which convey all of Wen’s relevant experiences, although not explicitly and chronologically. Wen is not merely describing love, but is writing about political affairs under the guise of love. This series evidently has hidden motifs which require further exploration, and which will challenge any pedestrian reading.

Is Wen Tingyun Writing Another’s Dream?

I will take a published book, Paul Rouzer’s Writing Another’s Dream–The Poetry of Wen Tingyun as an example, illustrating how Wen is understood and misunderstood and why we must know about Wen’s life before we can appreciate his poetry.

Rouzer quotes Wang Fuzhi’s (1619-92) Jiangzhai Shihua:

“A monk knocks on a gate under the moon” is only a random guess or a false specula­tion, as though speaking of another’s dream. Even if you make the description vivid, how could it ever affect the heart? Those who know this will know that brooding over the choices of “push” or “knock” is only speculating on the behalf of some other person.

Then he comments:

“Wang’s criticism here, though negative, summarizes precisely a major characteristic of Wen Tingyun’s verse: an ability to stand outside of the self and to ‘speculate on the be­half of some other person.’

“For a later imperial reader, then, Wen’s poetic vices could be summarized as two­fold. First, when he wrote of morally dubious experiences, he brought into question the important role poetry was meant to play in society. Second, and more important, as a historical actor he was often “unreadable” for later generations. Frequently he left be­hind only the poem (a morally ambiguous aesthetic artifact) or, at most, an image of a sophisticated versifier manipulating language for pure entertainment.”

Rouzer takes Wang’s comment on one of Jia Dao’s (779-843) couplets “as though speaking another’s dream” as “a major characteristic of Wen Tingyun’s verse.” Thus he uses it in the title of his book. Most learned readers would frown at this title, because it is based on a biased summary of Wen’s poetry. The approach Rouzer assumes seems problematic, although there are many insightful points in his book.

Jia was pondering his couplet, hesitating as to whether he should use the verb “push” or “knock”, when he came across the retinue of Han Yu, who expressed his preference for “knock.” As any reader will know at first glance, the couplet “The birds roost in trees by the pool \ A monk knocks on a gate under the moon” (鳥棲池邊樹, 僧敲月下門) in Jia’s poem serves only as scenic description. It is common sense that any scenic couplet in a lyric poem does not necessarily reflect objective reality. Rather, it reflects the writer’s subjective reality. It presents an empathic objec­tive world, by combining fragmentary images of a poet’s vision into meaningful pictures. Therefore Wang’s criticism that Jia’s choice of terms is “only a random guess or a false speculation, as though speaking of another’s dream” is not to the point. As to whether the whole poem “could ever affect the heart” or not, it is quite another matter. It is unreasonable to demand that Jia be faithful to what was really there, when writing a scenic description. Taking this comment as “a major characteristic of Wen’s poetry” is too far from both Wang’s criticisms and Wen’s actual poetics alike, and also too far from the general response of Chinese scholars to Wen’s poetry. In Wen’s works, contrary to Rouzer’s judgment, Wen’s central concern is always his own affairs rather another’s dream. The preciseness and vividness of his descriptions demonstrate his penetrating observation and subtle representation, indispensable in any major poet.

According to Rouzer, for the imperial reader, Wen’s poetry never ac­complishes “the important role poetry was meant to play in society;” moreover, as it is “unreadable” and was composed by “a sophisticated versifier manipulating language for pure entertainment”, “it actually conceals the immoral mind that frames it. It is deceptive and fraudulent” (10). Fully aware that “this is judging Wen’s works not by his own personal standards but by the calcified laws of composition that grew up after his death”, Rouzer chooses to “look at Wen’s work on its own terms” (10), a tendency we have pointed out. However, in his reevaluation of Wen’s works, we can hardly see “a new appreciation of a neglected Tang master” as he promises. Rather, in more than one case, Rouzer seems to identify himself with “the calcified laws” he disagrees with and joins in “the frequent choruses of disapproval” of Wen’s poetry and person, despite his intention to pass favorable comment on this poet.

Rouzer declares, “In spite of our difficulty in bridging language and cultural distances, we are comfortable with two con­cepts that might still seem strange to late classical Chinese: (1) that a poem can be read as a product of an age and a personality without relating it explicitly to events in the poet’s life; and (2) that a writer may still produce fine work despite his moral failings” (10). These plausible concepts may be applicable when there is no special difficulty–semantic, syntactic or otherwise–in understanding the poetry, and when dealing with lyric poetry that may seem irrelevant to a specially designated event in the poet’s life. But when the poem is essentially narrative, and the reader does not even grasp the outline of the narration, as in so many cases of Wen’s works, how is the reader able to make any pertinent reevaluations or pass any valid judgments concerning it? As a result of knowing too little about Wen’s life, neither praise nor censure of him can be convincing. How can we say that Wen is “writing another’s dream” even though Wen has “an ability to stand outside of the self” (10)?

Rouzer might have grounded himself “in the few facts known about the poet’s life”, that is, unfortunately and naturally, “a few minor details in both Tang Histories” (11) and other unofficial histories. However, the unreliable information about Wen’s life provided in the two Tang Histories is not help, but a hindrance for reevaluating him.

To illustrate how Wen’s poetry is deceptive and fraudulent, Rouzer cites Wen’s “Carefree Wandering” (j. 4, WFQ, 21-2 in his book). His reading of this poem leads him to comment that “We can see how Wen’s tendencies toward objectivity and lush descriptive language naturally move him toward a sort of voyeuristic eroticism, in which a woman is described in fetishistic detail from a seemingly dispassionate distance.” Our reading of this poem testifies to the contrary, that the woman described is none other than the singer-prostitute whom Wen fell in love with and married.

Since in the last couplet the poet declares that “You and I are just like mandarin ducks \ So don’t [or I won’t] seek any other companion in the human world” (與君便是鴛鴦侶, 休向人間覓往還), there is not much sense in Rouzer’s assertion that “Wen describes the woman from a seemingly dispassionate distance.” Here Rouzer’s translation is “With you I’m surely paired just like mandarin ducks \ So don’t seek to go back and forth out there in the human world.” Even if he suggests that it was not the poet but the woman who speaks these remarks, where is the dispassionate distance he finds here?

To sum up, in the final analy­sis, Wen Tingyun is understandable. To understand him, however, we have to overcome the historical obstacles, which create misunderstandings, the literary barriers, which frequently baffle, and long-standing misconstructions, which frustrate better understanding. It is time that our poet no longer be misunderstood and that we discover what led to the making of a unique Wen Tingyun.

Finally, a few remarks of apology for my translations and approaches. For many recondite and subtle poems, my translations fail to conjure up the beauty of the originals. Unfortunately, in translating poems, I can avail myself of little help from any polisher, but I am obliged to cudgel my brains in my awkward English. I would be gratified that, with the help of the paraphrases and notes, these translations could retain generally the intrinsic meanings of, and would not add numerous detrimental elements to, their Chinese originals. As to my approaches, although only reasoning and inference can help in finding more about Wen’s life, these approaches are not always rewarding. While blundering upon some hitherto unexposed events in Wen’s life, I may have exposed faults or flaws, which I have been unable to detect or over­come.

To conclude, allow me to use Chinese classic metaphors. Just like the legendary priceless pearl Lizhu under the neck of a ferocious dragon, the information concealed in Wen’s works cannot be reached without some danger (of misconstruction). Or like the Jade of Heshi enwrapped in hard stone, Wen’s value as a poet can be exposed only at the price of the man who presents the jade. Wen has already paid the price for it. My greatest wish is that this study can help to pave the way to a comprehensive reevaluation of Wen Tingyun. I look forward thankfully to any comments and criticisms.