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Early Medieval China 10-11.1 (2004) 203<br />
THE LIBRARIAN IN EXILE: XIE LINGYUN’S<br />
BOOKISH LANDSCAPES<br />
Stephen Owen<br />
Harvard University<br />
<strong>The</strong> <strong>whimsical</strong> <strong>title</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> <strong>paper</strong> <strong>is</strong> <strong>intended</strong> <strong>as</strong> a <strong>response</strong> <strong>to</strong><br />
<strong>the</strong> habitual repetition <strong>of</strong> Xie Lingyun 謝 靈 運 (385-433), “<strong>the</strong><br />
nature poet” or “<strong>the</strong> landscape poet.” ∗ A poet <strong>of</strong> landscapes he<br />
indeed w<strong>as</strong>, but what <strong>is</strong> sometimes overlooked in <strong>the</strong> study <strong>of</strong> Xie<br />
Lingyun <strong>is</strong> that he w<strong>as</strong> twice a librarian. In 426, for a very brief<br />
interval, he w<strong>as</strong> Direc<strong>to</strong>r <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Imperial Library; but also in 413<br />
(and perhaps on well in<strong>to</strong> 414), at <strong>the</strong> age <strong>of</strong> twenty-nine <strong>to</strong> thirty,<br />
he w<strong>as</strong> an Aide, cheng 丞 , in <strong>the</strong> library. Th<strong>is</strong> w<strong>as</strong> well before h<strong>is</strong><br />
posting <strong>to</strong> Yongjia and <strong>the</strong> beginning <strong>of</strong> h<strong>is</strong> career <strong>as</strong> a “landscape<br />
poet.” <strong>The</strong> post <strong>of</strong> Aide w<strong>as</strong> a particularly vague one, and we have<br />
no idea exactly what an Aide in <strong>the</strong> Imperial Library did. One thing,<br />
however, <strong>is</strong> certain: in <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> post Xie had access <strong>to</strong> what w<strong>as</strong><br />
probably <strong>the</strong> best library in <strong>the</strong> South at <strong>the</strong> time. Xie Lingyun w<strong>as</strong><br />
a reader (and perhaps already an antholog<strong>is</strong>t <strong>of</strong> poetry) before he<br />
w<strong>as</strong> mountain-climber. 1<br />
<strong>The</strong> image <strong>of</strong> Xie Lingyun <strong>as</strong> librarian <strong>is</strong> a way <strong>of</strong> returning <strong>to</strong><br />
<strong>the</strong> question <strong>of</strong> allusion. In dealing with allusion, scholars have by<br />
and large been content <strong>to</strong> show <strong>the</strong>ir learning in <strong>the</strong> act <strong>of</strong><br />
recognition itself. Beyond simple recognition and identification <strong>of</strong><br />
an allusion, <strong>the</strong>y may paraphr<strong>as</strong>e <strong>the</strong> import <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> allusion in <strong>the</strong><br />
argument <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> text <strong>as</strong> a whole. One question not commonly <strong>as</strong>ked,<br />
* Th<strong>is</strong> essay <strong>is</strong> <strong>of</strong>fered “on behalf <strong>of</strong>” (dai 代 ) <strong>the</strong> late Franc<strong>is</strong> Westbrook,<br />
one <strong>of</strong> David Knechtges’s first graduate students at Yale and later an Ass<strong>is</strong>tant<br />
Pr<strong>of</strong>essor at <strong>the</strong> University <strong>of</strong> W<strong>is</strong>consin. Frank w<strong>as</strong> a devoted lover <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong><br />
poetry <strong>of</strong> Xie Lingyun.<br />
1 We do not know when Xie Lingyun compiled h<strong>is</strong> influential poetic<br />
anthology, notices <strong>of</strong> which survive in various expansions and variations in <strong>the</strong><br />
“Jingji zhi” <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Sui shu; one <strong>of</strong> h<strong>is</strong> periods <strong>as</strong> a librarian would, however,<br />
given him <strong>the</strong> wide access <strong>to</strong> make such a large anthology.
204<br />
Owen: Xie Lingyun, Librarian in Exile<br />
however, <strong>is</strong> <strong>the</strong> function <strong>of</strong> allusion in <strong>the</strong> text. Perhaps one re<strong>as</strong>on<br />
<strong>the</strong> functional role <strong>of</strong> an allusion <strong>is</strong> not <strong>of</strong>ten considered <strong>is</strong> that <strong>the</strong><br />
answer <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> question <strong>is</strong> so <strong>of</strong>ten uninteresting: many allusions<br />
simply d<strong>is</strong>play erudition or fulfill an expectation for allusion at a<br />
certain point in <strong>the</strong> d<strong>is</strong>course. Allusions are <strong>of</strong>ten like those<br />
antiquities that were once gleaming ritual vessels, or <strong>the</strong> <strong>to</strong>ols <strong>of</strong><br />
war, or <strong>the</strong> king’s gift, bes<strong>to</strong>wing favor and status, but now reduced<br />
<strong>to</strong> “precious things” d<strong>is</strong>played in uniform museum c<strong>as</strong>es, identified<br />
by commenta<strong>to</strong>rs’ tags. Th<strong>is</strong> tells us more about <strong>the</strong> museum’s<br />
pride <strong>of</strong> possession and talent for <strong>as</strong>semblage than <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> power<br />
that inheres in <strong>the</strong> thing. But <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> <strong>is</strong> not always <strong>the</strong> c<strong>as</strong>e, and it <strong>is</strong><br />
definitely not <strong>the</strong> c<strong>as</strong>e in poets like Tao Qian 陶 潛 or Xie Lingyun.<br />
<strong>The</strong> essence <strong>of</strong> allusion <strong>is</strong> <strong>the</strong> p<strong>as</strong>t returning in <strong>the</strong> present (or<br />
in a significant negative variation, <strong>the</strong> p<strong>as</strong>t failing <strong>to</strong> return in <strong>the</strong><br />
present); it <strong>is</strong> a figure <strong>of</strong> repetition. If we think <strong>of</strong> allusions in <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong><br />
way, <strong>the</strong>ir functional role can sometimes be clearer and can change<br />
<strong>the</strong> way we understand a text. I will argue that <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> <strong>is</strong> <strong>of</strong>ten <strong>the</strong> c<strong>as</strong>e<br />
in <strong>the</strong> poetry <strong>of</strong> Xie Lingyun, where allusion <strong>is</strong> a means <strong>of</strong><br />
cognition <strong>as</strong> well <strong>as</strong> representation. Xie Lingyun <strong>of</strong>ten me<strong>as</strong>ures a<br />
prior experience <strong>of</strong> a text against h<strong>is</strong> experience in <strong>the</strong> physical<br />
world; and, ei<strong>the</strong>r purposely or involuntarily, Xie Lingyun <strong>of</strong>ten<br />
finds that h<strong>is</strong> experience doesn’t match those texts.<br />
Before continuing, however, I would like <strong>to</strong> add one important<br />
kind <strong>of</strong> “allusion” <strong>to</strong> our reper<strong>to</strong>ire, one that <strong>is</strong> almost always<br />
overlooked in commentary because <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> pro<strong>to</strong>cols <strong>of</strong> commentarial<br />
form. Th<strong>is</strong> <strong>is</strong> rewriting a prior text in different words, ni 擬<br />
(“imitation”) in its restrictive original sense, from <strong>the</strong> late third<br />
through <strong>the</strong> fifth century. Th<strong>is</strong> <strong>is</strong> ni <strong>as</strong> practiced by Fu Xuan 傅 玄<br />
(217-278) and Lu Ji 陸 機 (261-303). During <strong>the</strong> course <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> fifth<br />
century, <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> original sense <strong>of</strong> ni broke down and changed; it<br />
ce<strong>as</strong>ed <strong>to</strong> be redoing <strong>the</strong> entire text line by line, but ra<strong>the</strong>r lines and<br />
p<strong>as</strong>sages. When Bao Zhao 鮑 照 (ca. 414-466) imitated <strong>the</strong> first <strong>of</strong><br />
Ruan Ji’s 阮 籍 (210-263) “Singing <strong>of</strong> My Cares,” Yonghuai 詠 懷 ,<br />
in <strong>the</strong> mid-fifth century, he w<strong>as</strong> still partially following <strong>the</strong> older<br />
practice <strong>of</strong> rewriting <strong>the</strong> precedent text line by line in a more<br />
elevated reg<strong>is</strong>ter. 2 Ruan Ji’s “In <strong>the</strong> night I could not sleep” ( 夜 中<br />
2 Lu Qinli 逯 欽 立 , Quan Xian-Qin Han Wei Jin Nanbeichao shi 全 先 秦 漢<br />
魏 晉 南 北 朝 詩 , 3 vols. (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1983), 2: 1299. Th<strong>is</strong> use <strong>of</strong> ni
Early Medieval China 10-11.1 (2004) 205<br />
不 能 寐 ) becomes “<strong>The</strong> water-clock reached midpoint, I could not<br />
rest” ( 漏 分 不 能 臥 ). Chinese commentary cites sources <strong>of</strong> words<br />
and phr<strong>as</strong>es; ni requires changing all or most <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> words—verbal<br />
repetition <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> main words <strong>is</strong> prec<strong>is</strong>ely what <strong>is</strong> avoided. To<br />
“recognize” ni “imitation” our concordances and datab<strong>as</strong>es are no<br />
help. Yet <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> <strong>is</strong> no less a p<strong>as</strong>t text recurring in <strong>the</strong> present.<br />
As h<strong>is</strong> first term in <strong>the</strong> library preceded h<strong>is</strong> famous provincial<br />
postings, Xie Lingyun <strong>the</strong> reader preceded Xie <strong>the</strong> traveler and<br />
explorer. Xie Lingyun <strong>is</strong> supposed <strong>to</strong> be a “landscape poet”; yet<br />
anyone who engages h<strong>is</strong> poetry seriously realizes that he <strong>is</strong> a<br />
peculiarly book<strong>is</strong>h landscape poet. <strong>The</strong> argument I would propose<br />
here <strong>is</strong> that Xie Lingyun becomes an important poet not because he<br />
describes landscapes and “Nature,” but through <strong>the</strong> problematic<br />
relation between book-knowledge and experience outside <strong>of</strong> books. In<br />
o<strong>the</strong>r words, a kind <strong>of</strong> representation cl<strong>as</strong>sified <strong>as</strong> “allusion” simply<br />
because Li Shan and h<strong>is</strong> descendents cite source-p<strong>as</strong>sages may, in fact,<br />
be a relationship between prior text and experience <strong>of</strong> a peculiar form.<br />
J. D. Frodsham sought for <strong>the</strong> origins <strong>of</strong> landscape poetry in<br />
poets like Yu Chan 庾 闡 (fl. 339) and <strong>the</strong> mere description <strong>of</strong><br />
landscape. 3 <strong>The</strong>re may have been a re<strong>as</strong>on Yu Chan w<strong>as</strong> largely<br />
forgotten and had <strong>to</strong> be resurrected out <strong>of</strong> le<strong>is</strong>hu: perhaps he didn’t<br />
matter. By <strong>the</strong> time <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> compilation <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Wen xuan 文 選 (ca.<br />
520-526), <strong>the</strong> commonplaces <strong>of</strong> a h<strong>is</strong><strong>to</strong>ry <strong>of</strong> poetry were well<br />
establ<strong>is</strong>hed: Xiao Tong 蕭 統 (501-531) knew that <strong>the</strong> Liu-Song<br />
w<strong>as</strong> <strong>to</strong> be represented by landscape poetry. But when he chose an<br />
earlier, fourth-century “landscape” text, Xiao Tong chose one by<br />
someone who clearly stated that he had not yet been <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong><br />
landscape he described. Th<strong>is</strong>, <strong>of</strong> course, w<strong>as</strong> Sun Chuo’s 孫 綽<br />
(314-371) “You Tiantai shan fu” 遊 天 台 山 賦 , a landscape inspired<br />
by reading texts and v<strong>is</strong>ited only in <strong>the</strong> imagination, with <strong>the</strong> actual<br />
physical v<strong>is</strong>it d<strong>is</strong>placed in<strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> prospective future. Were Sun Chuo<br />
<strong>to</strong> have v<strong>is</strong>ited <strong>the</strong> real mountain, he would have done so with its<br />
texts already “in h<strong>is</strong> belly.” <strong>The</strong> problem <strong>is</strong>, <strong>of</strong> course, when one<br />
<strong>as</strong> <strong>the</strong> close imitation <strong>of</strong> a particular poem may be contr<strong>as</strong>ted with <strong>the</strong> term for a<br />
general imitation <strong>of</strong> a style, xue … ti 學 體 , <strong>as</strong> in Bao Zhao’s imitations <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong><br />
styles <strong>of</strong> Liu Zhen and Bao Zhao, Lu Qinli, 2: 1299-1300.<br />
3 J. D. Frodsham, “<strong>The</strong> Origins <strong>of</strong> Chinese Nature Poetry,” Asia Major 8.1<br />
(1962): 68-104.
206<br />
Owen: Xie Lingyun, Librarian in Exile<br />
undertakes such a journey one may not find <strong>the</strong> text he <strong>is</strong> looking<br />
for <strong>the</strong>re.<br />
Xie Lingyun w<strong>as</strong> Sun Chuo’s immediate descendent; Xie does<br />
indeed go <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> mountains, and h<strong>is</strong> experience <strong>is</strong> <strong>of</strong>ten shadowed<br />
by earlier texts. “Allusion” here becomes observing <strong>the</strong> landscape<br />
in terms <strong>of</strong> p<strong>as</strong>t texts and s<strong>to</strong>ries, indeed looking for confirmation<br />
<strong>of</strong> those texts in <strong>the</strong> landscape. In Xie Lingyun's landscape poetry,<br />
we are <strong>of</strong>ten much closer <strong>to</strong> Sun Chuo than <strong>to</strong> a more “literary” use<br />
<strong>of</strong> allusion. In 432 when in Nancheng, Xie v<strong>is</strong>ited Huazi Hill 華 子<br />
崗 , which he tells us in <strong>the</strong> You mingshan zhi 遊 名 山 志 w<strong>as</strong> so<br />
named because <strong>the</strong> immortal Huazi Qi 華 子 期 roamed <strong>the</strong>re. 4<br />
“Entering Huazi Hill, <strong>the</strong> third valley <strong>of</strong> Hemp Stream,” 入 華 子 崗<br />
是 麻 源 第 三 谷 , begins with an “allusion”:<br />
南 州 實 炎 德 , 桂 樹 陵 寒 山 . 5<br />
<strong>The</strong> Southland <strong>is</strong> truly <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Fiery Humour,<br />
with c<strong>as</strong>sia trees r<strong>is</strong>ing over wintry mountains.<br />
Th<strong>is</strong> <strong>is</strong> hardly a subtle use <strong>of</strong> an earlier text, rewriting lines<br />
from <strong>the</strong> “Yuanyou” 遠 遊 , just <strong>as</strong> <strong>the</strong> speaker <strong>the</strong>re goes <strong>of</strong>f on h<strong>is</strong><br />
“far roaming.”<br />
嘉 南 州 之 炎 , 德 兮 , 麗 桂 樹 之 冬 榮 . 6<br />
I admire <strong>the</strong> Fiery Humour <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Southland,<br />
found <strong>the</strong> wintry flour<strong>is</strong>hing <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> c<strong>as</strong>sia trees fair.<br />
<strong>The</strong> shi 實 , “truly,” marks <strong>the</strong> functional role <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> allusion:<br />
Xie Lingyun <strong>is</strong> confirming <strong>the</strong> claims <strong>of</strong> an old text in h<strong>is</strong> own<br />
experience. <strong>The</strong> opposite <strong>of</strong> shi in <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> usage <strong>is</strong> <strong>of</strong> course xu 虛 ,<br />
which we might translate <strong>as</strong> “b<strong>as</strong>ed on nothing,” even “fictitious.”<br />
Th<strong>is</strong> <strong>is</strong> indeed prec<strong>is</strong>ely <strong>the</strong> term employed by Sun Chuo in h<strong>is</strong><br />
preface <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> “You Tiantai shan fu,” addressing <strong>the</strong> same <strong>is</strong>sue.<br />
Speaking <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> wondrous mountains, Sun writes:<br />
4 Yan Kejun 嚴 可 均 , Quan shanggu sandai Qin Han Sanguo Liuchao wen<br />
全 上 古 三 代 秦 漢 三 國 六 朝 文 , 4 vols. (rpt. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1965), 3:<br />
2616.<br />
5 See note 8.<br />
6 Chuci jiaoshi 楚 辭 校 釋 , ed. Wang Siyuan 王 泗 原 (Beijing jiaoyu<br />
chubanshe, 1990), 305.
Early Medieval China 10-11.1 (2004) 207<br />
故 事 絕 於 常 篇 , 名 標 於 奇 紀 . 然 圖 像 之 興 , 豈 虛 也 哉 . 7<br />
Thus notice <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong>m <strong>is</strong> absent in common texts; <strong>the</strong>ir name <strong>is</strong><br />
given only in accounts <strong>of</strong> things rare. Should we think <strong>the</strong> r<strong>is</strong>e <strong>of</strong><br />
pictures and illustrations <strong>is</strong> b<strong>as</strong>ed on nothing?<br />
<strong>The</strong> text or illustration <strong>is</strong> presumed <strong>to</strong> follow from experience, an<br />
experience <strong>to</strong> be reconfirmed by one who knows <strong>the</strong> text when he<br />
v<strong>is</strong>its <strong>the</strong> places described in texts. <strong>The</strong> text, however, can sometimes<br />
fail experience.<br />
“Entering Huazi Hill, <strong>the</strong> third valley <strong>of</strong> Hemp Stream”<br />
8<br />
入 華 子 崗 是 麻 源 第 三 谷<br />
by Xie Lingyun<br />
<strong>The</strong> Southland <strong>is</strong> truly <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Fiery Humour,<br />
南 州 實 炎 德<br />
with c<strong>as</strong>sia trees r<strong>is</strong>ing over wintry mountains.<br />
桂 樹 陵 寒 山<br />
Bronze Mound shines by an emerald <strong>to</strong>rrent,<br />
銅 陵 映 碧 澗<br />
s<strong>to</strong>ne stairs spill over with a redd<strong>is</strong>h spring.<br />
石 磴 瀉 紅 泉<br />
It once diverted <strong>the</strong> course <strong>of</strong> a recluse,<br />
既 枉 隱 淪 客<br />
gave roost <strong>to</strong> a worthy man fled in<strong>to</strong> hiding. 9<br />
亦 棲 肥 遁 賢<br />
Perilous paths not <strong>to</strong> be fathomed and gauged,<br />
險 徑 無 測 度<br />
Heaven’s roads are no ordinary streets.<br />
天 路 非 術 阡<br />
<strong>The</strong>n I mounted <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> highest <strong>of</strong> many peaks,<br />
遂 登 群 峰 首<br />
so far I seemed mounting <strong>the</strong> clouds and m<strong>is</strong>ts.<br />
邈 若 升 雲 煙<br />
Of <strong>the</strong> fea<strong>the</strong>red folk, not <strong>the</strong> le<strong>as</strong>t semblance,<br />
羽 人 絕 彷 彿<br />
Cinnabar Hill <strong>is</strong> only <strong>the</strong> empty f<strong>is</strong>h-trap.<br />
丹 邱 徒 空 筌<br />
Maps and documents have fur<strong>the</strong>rmore d<strong>is</strong>appeared, 圖 牒 復 澠 滅<br />
who h<strong>as</strong> heard <strong>of</strong> s<strong>to</strong>ne or wooden inscriptions transmitted? 碑 版 誰 聞 傳<br />
None can make out [<strong>the</strong> traces] after a hundred generations, 莫 辨 百 代 後<br />
who can know <strong>of</strong> what w<strong>as</strong> here a thousand years before? 安 知 千 載 前<br />
For a while I indulge my intention <strong>to</strong> go <strong>of</strong>f alone, 且 申 獨 往 意<br />
in moonlight I amuse myself by <strong>the</strong> bubbling waters. 乘 月 弄 潺 湲<br />
7 Yan Kejun, 2: 1806.<br />
8 Lu Qinli, 2: 1178.<br />
9 Th<strong>is</strong> may refer specifically <strong>to</strong> Huazi Qi. Feidun 肥 遁 <strong>is</strong> a commonly used<br />
phr<strong>as</strong>e from <strong>the</strong> “Dun” 遁 hexagram in <strong>the</strong> Yijing: feidun wu bu li 肥 遁 無 不 利 .<br />
Although commenta<strong>to</strong>rs tried <strong>to</strong> explain <strong>the</strong> “plumpness” (which may only stand<br />
for fei 飛 , “fled” or “<strong>to</strong>ok flight”), <strong>the</strong> compound w<strong>as</strong> simply a term for<br />
reclusion.
208<br />
Owen: Xie Lingyun, Librarian in Exile<br />
Constantly it serves <strong>to</strong> fulfill use for <strong>the</strong> moment,<br />
but how could it be so in p<strong>as</strong>t and present?<br />
恆 充 俄 頃 用<br />
豈 為 古 今 然<br />
<strong>The</strong> hill at first sat<strong>is</strong>fies expectations with its bright colors, <strong>the</strong><br />
green <strong>of</strong> a mountain <strong>to</strong>rrent and a “redd<strong>is</strong>h spring,” prom<strong>is</strong>ing <strong>the</strong><br />
presence <strong>of</strong> cinnabar. But Xie reads it less <strong>as</strong> a colorful scene<br />
before him or even <strong>as</strong> an immortal world in <strong>the</strong> present than <strong>as</strong> a<br />
“site,” a place whose qualities are unders<strong>to</strong>od in terms <strong>of</strong> a p<strong>as</strong>t.<br />
Such beauties “diverted <strong>the</strong> course” and “gave roost” <strong>to</strong> someone<br />
in <strong>the</strong> p<strong>as</strong>t: Huazi Qi. <strong>The</strong> poet with h<strong>is</strong> learning h<strong>as</strong> come seeking<br />
<strong>the</strong> traces <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> p<strong>as</strong>t, but <strong>the</strong>se can be only <strong>the</strong> traces <strong>of</strong> someone<br />
who wanted <strong>to</strong> hide h<strong>is</strong> traces. Th<strong>is</strong> <strong>is</strong> not Nature <strong>as</strong> such, but<br />
Nature <strong>as</strong> possibly concealing traces <strong>of</strong> a p<strong>as</strong>t presence. <strong>The</strong> poet<br />
ventures on<strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> hill, whose ever r<strong>is</strong>ing and tw<strong>is</strong>ting course <strong>is</strong><br />
treated <strong>as</strong> “Heaven’s roads,” or <strong>the</strong> “road <strong>to</strong> Heaven.” Finally, he<br />
reaches <strong>the</strong> summit, laboriously climbing in<strong>to</strong> m<strong>is</strong>ts and clouds <strong>as</strong><br />
<strong>the</strong> immortal does “r<strong>is</strong>ing lightly”—and he finds nothing. We<br />
might here recall <strong>the</strong> p<strong>as</strong>sage <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> “Yuanyou” that follows <strong>the</strong><br />
one quoted above:<br />
山 蕭 條 而 無 獸 兮 , 野 寂 寞 其 無 人 . 載 營 魄 而 登 霞 兮 , 掩 浮 雲 而 上 征 .<br />
命 天 閽 其 開 關 兮 , 排 閶 闔 而 望 予 .<br />
Hills bleak and barren with no be<strong>as</strong>ts <strong>the</strong>re;<br />
moors silent and gloomy, without men.<br />
I bore up my souls, I climbed <strong>to</strong> auror<strong>as</strong>,<br />
by floating clouds hidden, I fared on above.<br />
I charged Heaven's gatekeeper <strong>to</strong> open <strong>the</strong> bar;<br />
he pushed back <strong>the</strong> gates and stared at me.<br />
<strong>The</strong> traveler <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> “Yuanyou” <strong>is</strong> reenacting <strong>the</strong> heavenly journey<br />
<strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> “Li sao” 離 騷 . Xie Lingyun reenacts that same <strong>as</strong>cent, only<br />
<strong>to</strong> find nothing—not <strong>the</strong> cosmic Nothing that <strong>the</strong> “Yuanyou”<br />
traveler ultimately finds but <strong>the</strong> absence <strong>of</strong> “traces” or “tracks” that<br />
permit following and repetition.<br />
“Allusion” in <strong>the</strong> conventional sense <strong>is</strong> an appeal <strong>to</strong> a p<strong>as</strong>t text<br />
in present circumstances; here we see a singular variation on that<br />
principle, an attempt <strong>to</strong> retrace a p<strong>as</strong>t text on a mountain path<br />
upward in<strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> clouds, treated <strong>as</strong> “Heaven’s roads” in<strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> clouds.<br />
Xie Lingyun <strong>is</strong> not simply “alluding” <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> “Yuanyou” in <strong>the</strong>
Early Medieval China 10-11.1 (2004) 209<br />
opening lines; ra<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> old text <strong>is</strong> a paradigm that informs h<strong>is</strong><br />
own experience <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> landscape. Before <strong>the</strong> p<strong>as</strong>sage echoed in Xie<br />
Lingyun’s opening couplet, <strong>the</strong> speaker <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> “Yuanyou” had gone<br />
<strong>to</strong> seek out <strong>the</strong> immortal Qiao <strong>the</strong> Prince and <strong>as</strong>k him about Breath.<br />
Qiao <strong>the</strong> Prince responded with a lesson in <strong>the</strong> language <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong><br />
Laozi, and <strong>the</strong> speaker <strong>to</strong>ok <strong>the</strong> lesson <strong>to</strong> heart: he set out and<br />
found <strong>the</strong> “fea<strong>the</strong>red folk on Cinnabar Hill.”<br />
聞 至 貴 而 遂 徂 兮 , 忽 乎 吾 將 行 . 仍 羽 人 于 丹 丘 兮 , 留 不 死 之 舊 鄉 .<br />
<strong>The</strong> lesson much tre<strong>as</strong>ured, I <strong>the</strong>n set <strong>to</strong> go,<br />
and all at once I w<strong>as</strong> on my way.<br />
Nigh <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> fea<strong>the</strong>red folk on Cinnabar Hill,<br />
I lingered in that olden land <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Undying.<br />
<strong>The</strong> echo <strong>of</strong> old pattern lingers on: <strong>the</strong> authoritative instruction<br />
preceding <strong>the</strong> journey in <strong>the</strong> “Yuanyou” recalls <strong>the</strong> interviews with<br />
figures <strong>of</strong> authority that precede journeying in <strong>the</strong> “Li sao”; in <strong>the</strong><br />
same way, Xie Lingyun comes <strong>to</strong> Huazi Hill with <strong>the</strong> paradigm <strong>of</strong><br />
<strong>the</strong> “Yuanyou.” Following <strong>the</strong> lesson he heard from Qiao <strong>the</strong><br />
Prince, <strong>the</strong> “Yuanyou” traveler does find “<strong>the</strong> fea<strong>the</strong>red folk on<br />
Cinnabar Hill.” Xie Lingyun repeats <strong>the</strong> process, but without<br />
success.<br />
Of <strong>the</strong> fea<strong>the</strong>red folk, not <strong>the</strong> le<strong>as</strong>t semblance,<br />
Cinnabar Hill <strong>is</strong> only <strong>the</strong> empty f<strong>is</strong>h-trap.<br />
<strong>The</strong> appearance <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> “f<strong>is</strong>h-trap” should re<strong>as</strong>sure us that we are<br />
not going <strong>to</strong>o far in thinking <strong>of</strong> <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> p<strong>as</strong>sage <strong>as</strong> me<strong>as</strong>uring received<br />
language against some version <strong>of</strong> “reality.” To reflect on <strong>the</strong><br />
problem <strong>of</strong> prior text versus experience, Xie shifts from <strong>the</strong><br />
“Yuanyou” <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> Zhuangzi, where <strong>the</strong> “f<strong>is</strong>h-trap” <strong>is</strong> <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> f<strong>is</strong>h <strong>as</strong><br />
language <strong>is</strong> <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> truth or meaning. Cinnabar Hill can be a “f<strong>is</strong>htrap”<br />
only textually, in reference <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> “Yuanyou” or <strong>the</strong> accounts<br />
<strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> immortals such <strong>as</strong> Huazi Qi.<br />
As a figure for language <strong>as</strong> <strong>the</strong> means <strong>to</strong> acquire meaning or<br />
truth, <strong>the</strong> “f<strong>is</strong>h-trap” can e<strong>as</strong>ily turn in<strong>to</strong> one <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Zhuangzi’s<br />
pr<strong>of</strong>ound jokes on its readers. When one finds an “empty f<strong>is</strong>htrap,”<br />
one can never tell whe<strong>the</strong>r it <strong>is</strong> a trap from which <strong>the</strong> f<strong>is</strong>h<br />
have already been taken or a trap that never caught any f<strong>is</strong>h in <strong>the</strong><br />
first place. We know that in climbing Huazi Hill, seeking <strong>to</strong> repeat
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<strong>the</strong> “Yuanyou” quest for <strong>the</strong> fea<strong>the</strong>red folk on Cinnabar Hill, Xie<br />
Lingyun finds nothing. Nei<strong>the</strong>r we nor Xie Lingyun knows,<br />
however, whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> immortal found <strong>the</strong> “truth,” leaving behind<br />
both text and hill emptied <strong>of</strong> h<strong>is</strong> presence, or whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> text<br />
deceived us in its prom<strong>is</strong>e <strong>to</strong> lead <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> immortals; that <strong>is</strong>, a tale, in<br />
Sun Chuo’s words, “b<strong>as</strong>ed on nothing.” <strong>The</strong> deceptiveness <strong>of</strong> tales<br />
<strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> immortals w<strong>as</strong> a long establ<strong>is</strong>hed poetic trope <strong>of</strong> poetry in<br />
<strong>the</strong> five syllable line. 10<br />
In contr<strong>as</strong>t <strong>to</strong> Sun Chuo, who retained faith in h<strong>is</strong> accounts <strong>of</strong><br />
marvels by restricting h<strong>is</strong> journey <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> spirit, in Xie, <strong>the</strong> empirical<br />
v<strong>is</strong>i<strong>to</strong>r, we at l<strong>as</strong>t come <strong>to</strong> something <strong>of</strong> a cr<strong>is</strong><strong>is</strong> <strong>of</strong> documentation:<br />
Maps and documents have fur<strong>the</strong>rmore d<strong>is</strong>appeared,<br />
who h<strong>as</strong> heard <strong>of</strong> s<strong>to</strong>ne or wooden inscriptions transmitted?<br />
None can make out [<strong>the</strong> traces] after a hundred generations,<br />
who can know <strong>of</strong> what w<strong>as</strong> here a thousand years before?<br />
In some ways Xie Lingyun remains even here <strong>the</strong> committed<br />
textual<strong>is</strong>t, attributing h<strong>is</strong> inability <strong>to</strong> find <strong>the</strong> fea<strong>the</strong>red folk <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong><br />
loss <strong>of</strong> better texts and illustrations. Th<strong>is</strong> <strong>is</strong> not so much Xie<br />
Lingyun <strong>the</strong> “landscape poet” <strong>as</strong> Xie Lingyun <strong>the</strong> librarian,<br />
accus<strong>to</strong>med <strong>to</strong> working with <strong>the</strong> ruins <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> textual tradition.<br />
When h<strong>is</strong> texts fail, however, Xie w<strong>is</strong>ely changes h<strong>is</strong> goals:<br />
For a while I indulge my intention <strong>to</strong> go <strong>of</strong>f alone,<br />
in moonlight I amuse myself by <strong>the</strong> bubbling waters.<br />
Constantly it serves <strong>to</strong> fulfill use for <strong>the</strong> moment,<br />
but how could it be so in p<strong>as</strong>t and present?<br />
At l<strong>as</strong>t we have Xie Lingyun left alone in <strong>the</strong> “landscape” itself,<br />
a landscape that <strong>is</strong> not innocently itself, but one that h<strong>as</strong> been<br />
evacuated. In place <strong>of</strong> immortals and long spans <strong>of</strong> time, we have<br />
terms <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> temporary: qie 且 , “for a while”; eqing 俄 頃 , “a<br />
moment”—though a “moment” that <strong>is</strong> always available, chong 充 ,<br />
“serve <strong>to</strong> / serve <strong>as</strong>,” being <strong>the</strong> term for temporarily acting in a<br />
certain role or <strong>of</strong>fice. <strong>The</strong> closing <strong>is</strong> enigmatic, <strong>as</strong> Xie Lingyun’s<br />
closings <strong>of</strong>ten are, but does clearly celebrate <strong>the</strong> beauty <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong><br />
10 For example, “Nineteen Old Poems” XIII (Lu Qinli, 1: 332) and Cao Zhi,<br />
“Zeng Baimawang Biao” (Lu Qinli, 1: 454).
Early Medieval China 10-11.1 (2004) 211<br />
place in <strong>the</strong> moment, <strong>as</strong> opposed <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> place <strong>as</strong> part <strong>of</strong> an itinerary<br />
beyond <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> world; and it celebrates <strong>the</strong> constancy <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> temporary<br />
moment against <strong>the</strong> permanent.<br />
“Entering Huazi Hill” <strong>is</strong> not a poem that “uses allusions,” but<br />
ra<strong>the</strong>r a poem that grows out <strong>of</strong> a failed attempt <strong>to</strong> retrace a prior next.<br />
Ni, <strong>as</strong> we observed earlier, <strong>is</strong> imitation in <strong>the</strong> sense <strong>of</strong> retracing a prior<br />
text, <strong>of</strong>ten couplet by couplet, using different words in a different<br />
reg<strong>is</strong>ter. 11 One <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> most common non-literary uses <strong>of</strong> ni w<strong>as</strong> niji 擬<br />
跡 , <strong>to</strong> “retrace” or “follow in <strong>the</strong> tracks <strong>of</strong>.” A single earlier text or a<br />
composite <strong>of</strong> old texts sometimes forms <strong>the</strong> backbone <strong>of</strong> Xie<br />
Lingyun’s poems; indeed, <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> occurs with enough frequency that we<br />
can only wonder if <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> w<strong>as</strong> not one norm throughout Xie Lingyun’s<br />
poetry, a norm that would be clearer if we had more early poetry. Th<strong>is</strong><br />
<strong>is</strong> <strong>to</strong> say that Xie Lingyun may have <strong>of</strong>ten been writing poetic<br />
“imitations,” in <strong>the</strong> special sense <strong>of</strong> trying <strong>to</strong> retrace a prior text in<br />
experience; and one <strong>as</strong>pect <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> genius <strong>of</strong> Xie Lingyun may have<br />
been that he <strong>of</strong>ten failed—h<strong>is</strong> own situation could never be quite<br />
perfectly mapped on<strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> precedent poem, with a deeper poem <strong>of</strong> h<strong>is</strong><br />
own growing out <strong>of</strong> that failure.<br />
If we <strong>of</strong>ten do not notice <strong>the</strong> prior text when it does survive, <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong><br />
may also be because <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> commentarial tradition that looks for<br />
sources <strong>of</strong> phr<strong>as</strong>es and does not notice relationships <strong>of</strong> ni, in which<br />
<strong>the</strong> particular words <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> precedent text are avoided. In <strong>the</strong> context<br />
<strong>of</strong> fifth-century poetics, however, such a relationship would have been<br />
obvious <strong>to</strong> anyone who knew <strong>the</strong> source text. In 422, on h<strong>is</strong> way <strong>to</strong><br />
Yongjia, Xie Lingyun s<strong>to</strong>pped by h<strong>is</strong> family estate and wrote:<br />
束 髮 懷 耿 介 , 逐 物 遂 推 遷 . 違 志 似 如 昨 , 二 紀 及 茲 年 . 12<br />
When my hair w<strong>as</strong> bound I harbored a splendid uprightness,<br />
<strong>the</strong>n I w<strong>as</strong> jostled along in pursuit <strong>of</strong> things.<br />
It seems but recently that I strayed from my aims,<br />
11 From <strong>the</strong> mid-third in<strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> fourth century, ni 擬 , usually translated <strong>as</strong><br />
“imitation,” meant rewriting a predecessor poem almost line by line in a higher<br />
reg<strong>is</strong>ter <strong>of</strong> diction. To judge from Xie’s “Imitations <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Collection at Ye” 擬<br />
鄴 中 集 (Lu Qinli, 2: 1181-5), in Xie Lingyun’s sense it did not necessarily<br />
mean rewriting <strong>the</strong> entire poem—though it did involve rewriting specific<br />
p<strong>as</strong>sages. Th<strong>is</strong> form <strong>of</strong> “imitation” largely d<strong>is</strong>appeared by <strong>the</strong> end <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> fifth<br />
century, transformed in<strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> idea <strong>of</strong> imitating <strong>the</strong> “sense” but not <strong>the</strong> words.<br />
12 See note 19.
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but with <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> year it h<strong>as</strong> been two decades.<br />
Let me begin with <strong>the</strong> most obvious point: in <strong>the</strong> fourth line <strong>of</strong> a<br />
poem on returning <strong>to</strong> h<strong>is</strong> home estate, Xie Lingyun me<strong>as</strong>ures how<br />
long he h<strong>as</strong> strayed from h<strong>is</strong> original aims. It does not take a<br />
pr<strong>of</strong>ound education in Chinese poetry <strong>to</strong> know where one h<strong>as</strong> seen<br />
that before in <strong>the</strong> fourth line <strong>of</strong> a poem—and indeed <strong>the</strong>re <strong>is</strong> no<br />
o<strong>the</strong>r clear precedent in any extant earlier poem. <strong>The</strong>refore we<br />
might take <strong>the</strong> fact that Xie not only echoes a prior text but echoes<br />
it in <strong>the</strong> same line <strong>as</strong> significant. <strong>The</strong> text <strong>is</strong>, <strong>of</strong> course, <strong>the</strong> first <strong>of</strong><br />
Tao Qian’s “Returning <strong>to</strong> Live in Field and Garden” 歸 園 田 居 13 :<br />
少 無 適 俗 韻 , 性 本 愛 丘 山 . 誤 落 塵 網 中 , 一 去 三 十 年 .<br />
My youth had no comfort in common things,<br />
by my nature I clung <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> mountains and hills.<br />
I erred and fell in <strong>the</strong> snares <strong>of</strong> dust<br />
and w<strong>as</strong> away thirty [thirteen] years in all. 14<br />
What could be a more appropriate precedent poem for a poet<br />
returning <strong>to</strong> h<strong>is</strong> family estate—though not <strong>to</strong> “dwell” or “stay,” ju<br />
居 , but merely “s<strong>to</strong>pping by,” guo 過 ? “S<strong>to</strong>pping by My Villa in<br />
Shining” <strong>is</strong> <strong>the</strong> failed return poem, <strong>as</strong> Xie Lingyun reads h<strong>is</strong> actual<br />
experience against <strong>the</strong> model <strong>of</strong> Tao Qian’s poem. 15<br />
Xie’s twenty years <strong>is</strong> not Tao’s thirty or thirteen, but when we<br />
subtract those years from Xie’s age at <strong>the</strong> time, he would have<br />
been eighteen. Tao Qian says simply shao 少 , “<strong>as</strong> a youth.” Shao <strong>is</strong><br />
13 Lu Qinli, 2: 991.<br />
14 <strong>The</strong> earliest texts <strong>of</strong> Tao Qian’s poetry all read “thirty,” but <strong>to</strong> reconcile <strong>the</strong><br />
poem with Tao’s biography <strong>as</strong> it w<strong>as</strong> unders<strong>to</strong>od, generations <strong>of</strong> commenta<strong>to</strong>rs<br />
explained <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> <strong>as</strong> a transposition, with <strong>the</strong> proper reading being “thirteen.” More<br />
recently, Yuan Xingpei 袁 行 霈 h<strong>as</strong> strenuously argued for a rev<strong>is</strong>ed date <strong>of</strong> 352 for<br />
Tao’s birth, which supports <strong>the</strong> reading “thirty.” See Tao Yuanming ji jianzhu 陶 淵 明<br />
集 箋 注 (Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 2003), 76-83, 846-7.<br />
15 <strong>The</strong> <strong>as</strong>sumption that Tao Qian w<strong>as</strong> a “recluse” and <strong>the</strong>refore would not<br />
have been known <strong>to</strong> a younger contemporary like Xie Lingyun overlooks <strong>the</strong><br />
immense publicity that surrounded “recluses,” particularly one <strong>as</strong> wellconnected<br />
<strong>as</strong> Tao Qian in <strong>the</strong> contemporary intellectual community. Tao w<strong>as</strong><br />
known not only <strong>to</strong> Xie Lingyun’s friend, Yan Yanzhi, but <strong>to</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r prominent<br />
figures <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> day.
Early Medieval China 10-11.1 (2004) 213<br />
<strong>the</strong> “plain style,” sermo humil<strong>is</strong>, which <strong>the</strong> ni-imita<strong>to</strong>r always<br />
ra<strong>is</strong>es in reg<strong>is</strong>ter; for example, <strong>to</strong> a phr<strong>as</strong>e like shu fa 束 髮 , “when<br />
my hair w<strong>as</strong> bound.” Likew<strong>is</strong>e wu sh<strong>is</strong>u yun 無 適 俗 韻 <strong>is</strong> made<br />
“poetic” in huai gengjie 懷 耿 介 . I will return <strong>to</strong> <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong>, for Xie <strong>is</strong> using<br />
<strong>the</strong> more elevated Tao Qian <strong>to</strong> ra<strong>is</strong>e <strong>the</strong> reg<strong>is</strong>ter <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> plainer Tao.<br />
<strong>The</strong> second line does not quite match Tao’s, but it <strong>of</strong>fers a<br />
context for Tao’s inexplicable “erring.” Zhuwu 逐 物 , “in pursuit <strong>of</strong><br />
[outer] things,” w<strong>as</strong> a standard Jin usage for worldly concerns, but<br />
tuiqian 推 遷 , literally “pushing and shifting” (translated <strong>as</strong> “jostled<br />
along”) w<strong>as</strong> a Tao Qian phr<strong>as</strong>e used in <strong>the</strong> preface <strong>to</strong> “Blooming<br />
Trees” 榮 木 . “Blooming Trees, significantly, <strong>is</strong> one <strong>of</strong> Tao Qian’s<br />
few poems about <strong>the</strong> “pursuit <strong>of</strong> things,” troubled by h<strong>is</strong> failure <strong>to</strong><br />
achieve any success <strong>as</strong> “<strong>the</strong> days and months jostle along” 日 月 推<br />
遷 . <strong>The</strong> usage, in <strong>the</strong> preface, <strong>is</strong> worth citing because <strong>of</strong> its close<br />
proximity <strong>to</strong> questions <strong>of</strong> hair and time p<strong>as</strong>sing.<br />
榮 木 , 念 將 老 也 . 日 月 推 遷 , 已 復 九 夏 , 總 角 聞 道 , 白 首 無 成 . 16<br />
“Blooming Trees” <strong>is</strong> <strong>of</strong> brooding about approaching old age.<br />
<strong>The</strong> days and months jostle along, and now it <strong>is</strong> <strong>the</strong> summer<br />
weeks again. When in childhood’s braids I w<strong>as</strong> <strong>to</strong>ld <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Way;<br />
now white-haired, I have accompl<strong>is</strong>hed nothing.<br />
I might add that <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> term tuiqian, so common later, makes its<br />
appearance in <strong>the</strong> written record only in Tao Qian’s generation, and<br />
only in a few uncertain o<strong>the</strong>r c<strong>as</strong>es; in effect, <strong>as</strong> reference <strong>to</strong> time’s<br />
p<strong>as</strong>sage it <strong>is</strong>, so far <strong>as</strong> we know, a Tao Qian phr<strong>as</strong>e. 17<br />
Tao Qian <strong>is</strong> not only silent about how he could fall in<strong>to</strong> such<br />
error, <strong>the</strong> content <strong>of</strong> those thirty (or thirteen) years <strong>is</strong> also p<strong>as</strong>sed<br />
over in silence. Xie Lingyun picks up that sense <strong>of</strong> time spent<br />
16 Lu Qinli, 2: 969.<br />
17 As common <strong>as</strong> <strong>the</strong> compound tuiqian became, <strong>the</strong> earliest extant usages<br />
are Tao Qian’s and that by a contemporary. <strong>The</strong> phr<strong>as</strong>e w<strong>as</strong> probably constructed<br />
from <strong>the</strong> proximity <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> words in Jia Yi’s 賈 誼 (200-168 BC) “<strong>The</strong> Owl” 負 鳥<br />
賦 : “<strong>The</strong>y (<strong>the</strong> myriad things) flow p<strong>as</strong>t swirling and shifting on, / sometimes<br />
push forward and return” 斡 流 而 遷 兮 , 或 推 而 還 (Yan Kejun, 1: 208). Since we<br />
cannot date “Blooming Trees,” we cannot entirely d<strong>is</strong>m<strong>is</strong>s <strong>the</strong> possibility that<br />
Tao w<strong>as</strong> using a phr<strong>as</strong>e from Xie Lingyun. Since <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r echoes <strong>of</strong> Tao Qian<br />
are from works that clearly predate 422, <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> seems likely <strong>to</strong> be <strong>the</strong> c<strong>as</strong>e here <strong>to</strong>o.
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unawares in h<strong>is</strong> third line, which says h<strong>is</strong> own straying “seems but<br />
recent.” We can also hear an echo <strong>of</strong> Tao’s “Return” 歸 去 來 辭 18 :<br />
實 迷 途 其 未 遠 , 覺 今 是 而 昨 非 .<br />
Truly I have not strayed far <strong>of</strong>f my path;<br />
I realize I am right now, while recently I w<strong>as</strong> wrong.<br />
As we saw in “Entering Huazi Hill,” Xie Lingyun can never<br />
perfectly repeat <strong>the</strong> p<strong>as</strong>t text. Xie Lingyun moves away from Tao<br />
Qian’s poem, but Tao Qian remains in <strong>the</strong> background throughout.<br />
Xie Lingyun <strong>of</strong>ten tries <strong>to</strong> follow <strong>the</strong> textual traces, ji, in <strong>the</strong><br />
empirical world, and he <strong>of</strong>ten loses <strong>the</strong> trail.<br />
“S<strong>to</strong>pping by My Villa in Shining” by Xie Lingyun<br />
19<br />
過 始 寧 墅<br />
When my hair w<strong>as</strong> bound I harbored a splendid<br />
uprightness,<br />
<strong>the</strong>n I w<strong>as</strong> jostled along in pursuit <strong>of</strong> things.<br />
It seems but recently that I strayed from my aims,<br />
but with <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> year it h<strong>as</strong> been two decades.<br />
Stained and ground down, humbled before openness and<br />
expansiveness, 20<br />
desperately weary, I am shamed by <strong>the</strong> pure and hard.<br />
Blunders and sickness pressed on me in turns,<br />
now I again get <strong>the</strong> e<strong>as</strong>e <strong>of</strong> those who are serene.<br />
With split bamboo I go <strong>to</strong> govern by <strong>the</strong> grey sea,<br />
and have turned <strong>as</strong>ide my sail <strong>to</strong> s<strong>to</strong>p by my former hills.<br />
Walking in mountains, I go up and down everywhere,<br />
faring on water, I go all <strong>the</strong> way up and downstream.<br />
Peaks are sheer, pinnacles in layers,<br />
sandbars wind, <strong>is</strong>les continuous.<br />
White clouds embrace hidden rocks,<br />
green bamboo canes lend charm <strong>to</strong> clear ripples.<br />
束 髮 懷 耿 介<br />
逐 物 遂 推 遷<br />
違 志 似 如 昨<br />
二 紀 及 茲 年<br />
緇 磷 謝 清 曠<br />
疲 薾 慚 貞 堅<br />
拙 疾 相 倚 薄<br />
還 得 靜 者 便<br />
剖 竹 守 滄 海<br />
枉 帆 過 舊 山<br />
山 行 窮 登 頓<br />
水 涉 盡 洄 沿<br />
巖 峭 嶺 稠 疊<br />
洲 縈 渚 連 綿<br />
白 雲 抱 幽 石<br />
綠 筱 媚 清 漣<br />
18 Yuan Xingpei, TaoYuanming ji jianzhu, 460.<br />
19 Lu Qinli, 2: 1159.<br />
20 I would like <strong>to</strong> thank David Knechtges for calling my attention <strong>to</strong> <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong><br />
contemporary usage <strong>of</strong> xie 謝 .
Early Medieval China 10-11.1 (2004) 215<br />
I build a cottage by <strong>the</strong> turning river,<br />
erect a lodge b<strong>as</strong>ed on <strong>the</strong> layered summit.<br />
I wave and declare <strong>to</strong> those <strong>of</strong> my homeland,<br />
after three years I expect <strong>to</strong> return.<br />
So plant for me elm and camphor trees,<br />
let my desire not be betrayed.<br />
葺 宇 臨 回 江<br />
築 觀 基 層 巔<br />
揮 手 告 鄉 曲<br />
三 載 期 歸 旋<br />
且 為 樹 枌 檟<br />
無 令 孤 願 言<br />
“Stained and ground down,” “weary,” “blundering”—Xie Lingyun<br />
<strong>of</strong>fers a stream <strong>of</strong> self-reproach, but for what? Tao Qian <strong>of</strong>fered a<br />
poetic model for changing one’s life; Xie fails <strong>the</strong> model <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong><br />
person even <strong>as</strong> he takes leave <strong>of</strong> Tao Qian’s poem. Without Tao<br />
Qian’s dec<strong>is</strong>ive “return,” Xie’s betrayal <strong>of</strong> h<strong>is</strong> youthful aims calls<br />
for shame, me<strong>as</strong>uring himself against Confucius’s judgment in <strong>the</strong><br />
Analects (XVII.7): “Would we not call something that can be<br />
scraped but not ground down hard? Would we not call something<br />
that <strong>is</strong> sullied but not stained white?” 不 曰 堅 乎 , 磨 而 不 磷 ; 不 曰<br />
白 乎 , 涅 而 不 緇 .<br />
Xie does use <strong>the</strong> terms “stained” and “ground down” from <strong>the</strong><br />
Analects; but <strong>the</strong>re <strong>is</strong> ano<strong>the</strong>r source for <strong>the</strong> “pure” and “hard.” We<br />
might look at Tao’s “In <strong>the</strong> Sixth Month <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Year Wushen [408]<br />
We Had a Fire” 戊 申 歲 六 月 中 遇 火 21 :<br />
形 跡 憑 化 往 , 靈 府 長 獨 閒 , 貞 剛 自 有 質 , 玉 石 乃 非 堅 .<br />
Form and traces go <strong>of</strong>f along with Change,<br />
but <strong>the</strong> soul’s seat <strong>is</strong> ever uniquely calm.<br />
Having innate substance pure and unyielding,<br />
not even jade and s<strong>to</strong>ne are so hard.<br />
Xie Lingyun fails in prec<strong>is</strong>ely those qualities that Tao Qian proudly<br />
claims in h<strong>is</strong> moment <strong>of</strong> introspection. And lest <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> seem <strong>to</strong>o<br />
arbitrary a culling from Tao Qian, we might quote <strong>the</strong> lines that<br />
precede <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> p<strong>as</strong>sage, which are <strong>the</strong> double source <strong>of</strong> Xie Lingyun’s<br />
opening:<br />
21 Lu Qinli, 2: 995.
216<br />
Owen: Xie Lingyun, Librarian in Exile<br />
總 髮 抱 孤 介 , 奄 出 四 十 年 . 22<br />
When my hair w<strong>as</strong> tied I harbored solitary uprightness,<br />
and suddenly it h<strong>as</strong> been more than forty years.<br />
I hope that, by <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> point, I do not need <strong>to</strong> prove any fur<strong>the</strong>r that<br />
on some b<strong>as</strong>ic level Tao Qian, both <strong>the</strong> person and h<strong>is</strong> poems,<br />
stand in <strong>the</strong> background <strong>of</strong> Xie Lingyun’s poem. <strong>The</strong> first<br />
“Returning <strong>to</strong> Live in Field and Garden” closes:<br />
久 在 樊 籠 裏 , 復 得 還 自 然 . 23<br />
For a long time I w<strong>as</strong> kept inside a coop,<br />
again I get <strong>to</strong> return <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> natural way.<br />
Xie Lingyun does it a bit differently, but we should recognize <strong>the</strong><br />
move:<br />
拙 疾 相 倚 薄 , 還 得 靜 者 便 .<br />
Blunders and sickness pressed on me in turns,<br />
now I again get <strong>the</strong> e<strong>as</strong>e <strong>of</strong> those who are serene.<br />
If Tao Qian achieves ziran, “<strong>the</strong> natural way,” Xie gets only bian<br />
便 , “e<strong>as</strong>e,” which suggests only temporary relief. We are reminded<br />
<strong>of</strong> what we knew in <strong>the</strong> <strong>title</strong>: that <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> “e<strong>as</strong>e” d<strong>is</strong>covered in return <strong>is</strong><br />
merely “s<strong>to</strong>pping by,” on h<strong>is</strong> way <strong>to</strong> a post elsewhere. Th<strong>is</strong> <strong>is</strong> a<br />
“return” <strong>of</strong> limited duration.<br />
No sooner does he tell us that he h<strong>as</strong> found peace than he goes<br />
on <strong>to</strong> say that he <strong>is</strong> heading <strong>of</strong>f <strong>to</strong> Yongjia with “split bamboo,” <strong>the</strong><br />
tally <strong>of</strong> a governor’s authority. When <strong>the</strong>y decide <strong>to</strong> return <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir<br />
innate natures, Qu Yuan 屈 原 and Tao Qian turn <strong>the</strong>ir carriages<br />
back—Qu Yuan turns a figurative carriage, while Tao turns a<br />
carriage that <strong>is</strong> literal <strong>as</strong> well <strong>as</strong> figurative. 24 <strong>The</strong> image <strong>of</strong> turning<br />
22 Modern scholars argue, with justification, that <strong>the</strong> second line means<br />
“And suddenly I am in my forties.” <strong>The</strong> interpretation below <strong>is</strong> <strong>the</strong> more natural<br />
reading that <strong>is</strong> heedless <strong>of</strong> attempts <strong>to</strong> reconstruct Tao Qian’s biography.<br />
23 See note 13.<br />
24 “Li Sao,” lines 107-8: “I will turn my coach ’round, retrace my path, /<br />
before I stray <strong>to</strong>o far in my going” 回 朕 車 以 復 路 兮 , 及 行 迷 之 未 遠 (Chuci<br />
jiaoshi, 30). Th<strong>is</strong> <strong>is</strong> echoed in Tao Qian’s “Return”: “Truly I have not strayed far<br />
<strong>of</strong>f my path” 實 迷 途 其 未 遠 .
Early Medieval China 10-11.1 (2004) 217<br />
back on a figurative or literal journey w<strong>as</strong> an immensely resonant<br />
one, so we appreciate <strong>the</strong> ironic prec<strong>is</strong>ion <strong>of</strong> Xie Lingyun’s wang<br />
fan 枉 帆 , “I turn <strong>as</strong>ide my sail.” Wang 枉 , “turn <strong>as</strong>ide,” <strong>is</strong> “<strong>to</strong> go<br />
out <strong>of</strong> one’s way,” <strong>to</strong> make a side trip in a larger journey elsewhere.<br />
<strong>The</strong> destination <strong>of</strong> <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> “side trip” <strong>is</strong> h<strong>is</strong> “former hills,” <strong>the</strong> family<br />
home. Th<strong>is</strong> <strong>is</strong> a most imperfect “return.”<br />
Th<strong>is</strong> declaration <strong>of</strong> “turning <strong>as</strong>ide” <strong>is</strong> also <strong>the</strong> moment that Xie<br />
Lingyun leaves <strong>the</strong> poetic world <strong>of</strong> Tao Qian. I have always felt<br />
uncomfortable with <strong>the</strong> commonplace contr<strong>as</strong>t between Tao Qian<br />
<strong>as</strong> <strong>the</strong> poet <strong>of</strong> “fields and garden,” tianyuan 田 園 , <strong>as</strong> opposed <strong>to</strong><br />
Xie Lingyun, <strong>the</strong> poet <strong>of</strong> “mountains and waters,” shanshui 山 水 .<br />
In <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> poem and a few o<strong>the</strong>rs, however, I think <strong>the</strong> cliché becomes<br />
valid: in poems that have much in common in a d<strong>is</strong>cursive frame<br />
segment, Xie Lingyun will <strong>of</strong>ten insert a shanshui p<strong>as</strong>sage where<br />
Tao h<strong>as</strong> a tianyuan p<strong>as</strong>sage: Xie Lingyun’s shanshui thus becomes<br />
a substitution. Xie Lingyun <strong>is</strong> quite explicit about it: in “Climbing<br />
a Tower by <strong>the</strong> Pool” 登 池 上 樓 , he understands that “my strength<br />
<strong>is</strong> not up <strong>to</strong> withdrawing <strong>to</strong> farm” 退 耕 力 不 任 . 25 As with allusion,<br />
if we think <strong>of</strong> <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> not <strong>as</strong> a bland alternative, but <strong>as</strong> an active and<br />
significant replacement <strong>of</strong> Tao Qian’s world, <strong>as</strong> it clearly <strong>is</strong> in <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong><br />
poem prior <strong>to</strong> all <strong>the</strong> famous Yongjia and later poems, <strong>the</strong>n <strong>the</strong><br />
quality <strong>of</strong> Xie’s description <strong>of</strong> “landscape” changes.<br />
In place <strong>of</strong> Tao Qian’s more active description <strong>of</strong> farming and<br />
<strong>the</strong> ple<strong>as</strong>ures <strong>of</strong> h<strong>is</strong> rural community, Xie Lingyun gives us a setpiece:<br />
he declares h<strong>is</strong> p<strong>as</strong>sage through <strong>the</strong> landscape and describes<br />
points in it. Th<strong>is</strong> <strong>is</strong> <strong>the</strong> “core” <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> poem, <strong>the</strong> poetic idyll <strong>to</strong><br />
which he returns but temporarily, framed by coming from<br />
elsewhere and going elsewhere.<br />
Walking in mountains, I go up and down everywhere,<br />
faring on water, I go all <strong>the</strong> way up and downstream.<br />
Peaks are sheer, pinnacles in layers,<br />
sandbars wind, <strong>is</strong>les continuous.<br />
White clouds embrace hidden rocks,<br />
green bamboo canes lend charm <strong>to</strong> clear ripples.<br />
I build a cottage by <strong>the</strong> turning river,<br />
erect a lodge b<strong>as</strong>ed on <strong>the</strong> layered summit.<br />
25 Lu Qinli, 2: 1161.
218<br />
Owen: Xie Lingyun, Librarian in Exile<br />
We can now <strong>as</strong>k not “what <strong>is</strong> significant about <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> description,”<br />
but “how does <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> description differ from Tao Qian’s representation<br />
<strong>of</strong> home space.” It might be useful here <strong>to</strong> recall <strong>the</strong><br />
famous preface <strong>of</strong> 400 by <strong>the</strong> d<strong>is</strong>ciple <strong>of</strong> Huiyuan’s 慧 遠 (334-416)<br />
school on <strong>the</strong> v<strong>is</strong>it <strong>to</strong> Shimenshan. 26 Here and elsewhere around<br />
<strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> period, we note a shift <strong>of</strong> attention from <strong>the</strong> centrality <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong><br />
object <strong>of</strong> v<strong>is</strong>ion <strong>to</strong> interest in <strong>the</strong> vantage point. We never know<br />
from where Tao surveys h<strong>is</strong> farm; but if we begin with <strong>the</strong> end <strong>of</strong><br />
<strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> p<strong>as</strong>sage in Xie’s poem, we see him building vantage points<br />
from which <strong>to</strong> look.<br />
We will note <strong>the</strong> obvious. Character<strong>is</strong>tically, every couplet<br />
balances a “mountain” line with a “water” line. Like <strong>the</strong> “everywhere,”<br />
qiong 窮 , and “all <strong>the</strong> way,” jin 盡 , <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> balance <strong>is</strong> a claim<br />
<strong>of</strong> completeness, from <strong>the</strong> heights that can be reached <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> lowest<br />
points that can be reached. Like <strong>the</strong> perpipatetic Qin Shihuang 秦<br />
始 皇 who <strong>to</strong>ok possession <strong>of</strong> h<strong>is</strong> realm by traveling through it, Xie<br />
poetically takes possession, beginning with a general claim in <strong>the</strong><br />
first descriptive couplet and progressing <strong>to</strong> greater detail.<br />
On a more b<strong>as</strong>ic level, however, <strong>the</strong>re <strong>is</strong> <strong>the</strong> question <strong>of</strong> agency,<br />
<strong>the</strong> ability <strong>to</strong> do things. When in “Returning <strong>to</strong> Live in Field and<br />
Garden” Tao Qian speaks <strong>of</strong> kai huang 開 荒 , “clearing wilderness,”<br />
we always read <strong>the</strong> phr<strong>as</strong>e <strong>as</strong> “I clear <strong>the</strong> wilderness,” not <strong>as</strong><br />
<strong>the</strong> no less plausible “I have <strong>the</strong> wilderness cleared.” We attribute<br />
immediate agency <strong>to</strong> Tao Qian. When, however, Xie Lingyun<br />
speaks <strong>of</strong> “building a cottage” or “erecting a lodge,” no one<br />
suspects he <strong>is</strong> doing <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> himself or even so much <strong>as</strong> lifting a<br />
hammer. Xie Lingyun <strong>is</strong> a looker and not a doer; he <strong>is</strong> an ar<strong>is</strong><strong>to</strong>crat,<br />
a reader, and a librarian. Th<strong>is</strong> <strong>is</strong>sue <strong>of</strong> immediate agency <strong>is</strong> <strong>the</strong> very<br />
heart <strong>of</strong> <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> poem, <strong>the</strong> point where Xie Lingyun fails <strong>to</strong> “follow<br />
<strong>the</strong> traces” <strong>of</strong> Tao Qian. Tao acts; Xie Lingyun gives orders. And <strong>as</strong><br />
Xie gives orders, he receives orders—<strong>the</strong> “split bamboo” that sends<br />
him <strong>to</strong> Yongjia and makes h<strong>is</strong> return imperfect and temporary.<br />
Tao Qian chances on interesting sights, but he does not<br />
construct vantage points, ei<strong>the</strong>r architecturally or textually. <strong>The</strong>re<br />
<strong>is</strong>, however, a relation between representing scenes in poetry and<br />
creating comfortable (bian 便 , translated <strong>as</strong> “e<strong>as</strong>e” above) spaces<br />
from which <strong>to</strong> view <strong>the</strong>m: <strong>the</strong>se buildings are <strong>the</strong> means by which<br />
26 Yan Kejun, 3: 2437.
Early Medieval China 10-11.1 (2004) 219<br />
<strong>to</strong> repeat experience. Here we might recall <strong>the</strong> strange line in<br />
“Entering Huazi Hill”: “Constantly it serves <strong>to</strong> fulfill use for <strong>the</strong><br />
moment” 恆 充 俄 頃 用 . <strong>The</strong> purpose <strong>of</strong> Xie Lingyun’s architectural<br />
vantage points <strong>is</strong> exactly <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong>: <strong>the</strong> buildings are always <strong>the</strong>re <strong>to</strong><br />
<strong>of</strong>fer enjoyment, but each time only for <strong>the</strong> moment. Th<strong>is</strong> all<br />
comes back <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> temporary nature <strong>of</strong> such experience, “s<strong>to</strong>pping<br />
by” only <strong>to</strong> continue on, which <strong>is</strong> <strong>the</strong> condition <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> desire <strong>to</strong><br />
repeat experience.<br />
Xie Lingyun’s character<strong>is</strong>tic parallel<strong>is</strong>m takes on an interesting<br />
function in <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> context. <strong>The</strong> charms <strong>of</strong> h<strong>is</strong> home landscape are<br />
always paired, so that no single point finally absorbs h<strong>is</strong> attention:<br />
he can go <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> cottage by <strong>the</strong> river or <strong>the</strong> lodge on <strong>the</strong> summit.<br />
Even within h<strong>is</strong> domestic landscape he travels and reproduces<br />
experience that <strong>is</strong> essentially temporary. <strong>The</strong> constant representation<br />
<strong>of</strong> alternatives, embodied in parallel<strong>is</strong>m, defers some<br />
final fixity—though at <strong>the</strong> end he foresees an ultimate fixity and<br />
return.<br />
<strong>The</strong> internal landscape <strong>of</strong> h<strong>is</strong> home space thus mirrors <strong>the</strong><br />
larger world in which it <strong>is</strong> set. Everywhere he goes, he <strong>is</strong> only<br />
“s<strong>to</strong>pping by.” At l<strong>as</strong>t he waves goodbye and prom<strong>is</strong>es <strong>to</strong> return<br />
after h<strong>is</strong> three year appointment. He prom<strong>is</strong>es <strong>to</strong> come back after<br />
three years; he does not prom<strong>is</strong>e <strong>to</strong> stay. <strong>The</strong> only way he can<br />
complete <strong>the</strong> Tao Qian poem <strong>of</strong> final return <strong>is</strong> “return,” gui 歸 , in<br />
death. <strong>The</strong> “elm and camphor trees” are wood for a c<strong>of</strong>fin. H<strong>is</strong><br />
injunction <strong>to</strong> plant <strong>the</strong>m now defers <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> final return, but he does<br />
w<strong>is</strong>h in <strong>the</strong> end <strong>to</strong> come home. Even in <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong>, however, he cannot<br />
plant <strong>the</strong> elm and camphor trees himself; he can only <strong>is</strong>sue orders.<br />
Xie <strong>is</strong> “alluding” <strong>to</strong> Tao Qian, but in a more pr<strong>of</strong>ound sense<br />
than we usually grant <strong>to</strong> allusion. He <strong>is</strong> poetically mapping h<strong>is</strong> life<br />
against Tao Qian’s textual self-representation. He w<strong>as</strong> traveling <strong>to</strong><br />
Yongjia with a “bellyful” <strong>of</strong> texts, and it w<strong>as</strong> through those texts<br />
that he comprehended experience.<br />
Although <strong>the</strong>re are o<strong>the</strong>r poems in which Xie Lingyun<br />
approaches experience with a single text in mind, <strong>the</strong> more familiar<br />
form <strong>of</strong> allusion <strong>is</strong> in multiple references, d<strong>is</strong>covered in experience<br />
ra<strong>the</strong>r than brought <strong>to</strong> it. Xie began “Entering Huazi Hill” by<br />
comparing landscape and text; in o<strong>the</strong>r c<strong>as</strong>es, however, old texts<br />
“appear” in <strong>the</strong> world around him and in h<strong>is</strong> self-representation.<br />
Unlike more purely “literary” allusions that <strong>of</strong>ten have only a
220<br />
Owen: Xie Lingyun, Librarian in Exile<br />
single “point,” Xie Lingyun’s allusions <strong>of</strong>ten come with fragments<br />
<strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir context in o<strong>the</strong>r phr<strong>as</strong>es and <strong>as</strong>sociations from <strong>the</strong> primary<br />
source.<br />
“V<strong>is</strong>iting South Pavilion” by Xie Lingyun<br />
27<br />
遊 南 亭<br />
<strong>The</strong> se<strong>as</strong>on ends, <strong>the</strong> evening perfectly clear,<br />
<strong>the</strong> clouds go back, <strong>the</strong> sun speeds west.<br />
Dense forests hold in <strong>the</strong> remaining clarity,<br />
a far peak shadows half <strong>the</strong> sun’s d<strong>is</strong>k.<br />
Long heartsick, overwhelmed in suffering,<br />
from <strong>the</strong> guest lodge I stare at <strong>the</strong> paths diverging<br />
in meadows.<br />
Marsh orchids gradually cover <strong>the</strong> trail,<br />
and <strong>the</strong> lotus first come out on <strong>the</strong> pool.<br />
I had not yet wearied <strong>of</strong> green spring’s goodness,<br />
now already I observe <strong>the</strong> red brightness shift.<br />
Depressed, I sigh, stirred by things,<br />
white hair hangs down, flecked with stars.<br />
My concerns stay with medicine and fine food;<br />
all at once sickness and decline are upon me.<br />
I’ll be <strong>of</strong>f <strong>as</strong> soon <strong>as</strong> autumn’s floods arrive,<br />
<strong>to</strong> rest my shadow, I’ll rest on my former slopes.<br />
To whom can I make clear my mind?—<br />
only a mind that can appreciate will know instinctively.<br />
時 竟 夕 澄 霽<br />
雲 歸 日 西 馳<br />
密 林 含 餘 清<br />
遠 峰 隱 半 規<br />
久 痗 昏 墊 苦<br />
旅 館 眺 郊 岐<br />
澤 蘭 漸 被 徑<br />
芙 蓉 始 發 池<br />
未 厭 青 春 好<br />
已 睹 朱 明 移<br />
戚 戚 感 物 嘆<br />
星 星 白 髮 垂<br />
藥 餌 情 所 止<br />
衰 疾 忽 在 斯<br />
逝 將 候 秋 水<br />
息 景 偃 舊 崖<br />
我 志 誰 與 亮<br />
賞 心 惟 良 知<br />
Th<strong>is</strong> poem <strong>is</strong> generally unders<strong>to</strong>od <strong>as</strong> having been written at<br />
Yongjia in 423, in <strong>the</strong> year following <strong>the</strong> preceding poem. <strong>The</strong><br />
opening gives us both <strong>the</strong> se<strong>as</strong>on and <strong>the</strong> moment—<strong>the</strong> se<strong>as</strong>on<br />
ending must be spring, but that only frames <strong>the</strong> immediate scene. It<br />
<strong>is</strong> a moment <strong>of</strong> clarity, just before darkness. <strong>The</strong>re are clouds withdrawing<br />
from <strong>the</strong> sky and perhaps <strong>the</strong>re <strong>is</strong> a suggestion <strong>of</strong> recent<br />
rain in <strong>the</strong> allusions. <strong>The</strong> moment <strong>is</strong> framed by continuous<br />
depression or sickness (if we read mei 痗 <strong>as</strong> literal sickness with<br />
27 Lu Qinli, 2: 1161.
Early Medieval China 10-11.1 (2004) 221<br />
Fang Dongshu 方 東 樹 ) and anticipation <strong>of</strong> aging, autumn floods,<br />
and return home. 28<br />
<strong>The</strong> sun’s swiftness w<strong>as</strong> an old figure for time p<strong>as</strong>sing swiftly,<br />
made partially literal in Cao Zhi’s famous “To Xu Gan” 贈 徐 乾 29 :<br />
驚 風 飄 白 日 , 忽 然 歸 西 山 .<br />
A bl<strong>as</strong>t <strong>of</strong> wind sends <strong>the</strong> bright sun whirling,<br />
and suddenly it <strong>is</strong> back <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> western hills.<br />
In Xie Lingyun’s opening here <strong>the</strong> poetic figure perhaps becomes<br />
literal in v<strong>is</strong>ual illusion, <strong>as</strong> <strong>the</strong> retreating clouds seem <strong>to</strong> make <strong>the</strong><br />
sun speed ahead. But at <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> moment <strong>the</strong> speeding sun seems <strong>to</strong><br />
s<strong>to</strong>p and hang for a moment, half hidden behind <strong>the</strong> mountains <strong>to</strong><br />
<strong>the</strong> west. It <strong>is</strong> a final moment <strong>of</strong> light before darkness.<br />
Se<strong>as</strong>on and wea<strong>the</strong>r are common poetic settings, but <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> one <strong>is</strong><br />
particular by its focus on a transient moment, on <strong>the</strong> edge <strong>of</strong><br />
darkness and se<strong>as</strong>onal change. Th<strong>is</strong> brings <strong>the</strong> poet <strong>to</strong> himself at<br />
<strong>the</strong> moment, also framed in a longer span:<br />
Long heartsick, overwhelmed in suffering,<br />
now from <strong>the</strong> guest lodge I stare at <strong>the</strong> paths diverging in meadows.<br />
Marsh orchids gradually cover <strong>the</strong> trail,<br />
and <strong>the</strong> lotus first come out on <strong>the</strong> pool.<br />
<strong>The</strong> interval <strong>of</strong> spring p<strong>as</strong>sing matches Xie’s jiu mei “long<br />
heartsick.” Mei 痗 (“heartsick”) w<strong>as</strong> an archaic word carrying <strong>the</strong><br />
memory <strong>of</strong> its use in Shi 62, “Bo xi” 伯 兮 . 30 Rain’s darkness and<br />
light figure here <strong>to</strong>o. <strong>The</strong> husband <strong>is</strong> away <strong>is</strong> away on campaign;<br />
<strong>the</strong> third and fourth stanz<strong>as</strong> read:<br />
其 雨 其 雨 , 杲 杲 出 日 . 願 言 思 伯 , 甘 心 首 疾 .<br />
焉 得 諼 草 , 言 樹 之 背 . 願 言 思 伯 , 使 我 心 痗 .<br />
Ah <strong>the</strong> rain, ah <strong>the</strong> rain!<br />
<strong>the</strong> sun comes forth shining.<br />
28 Fang Dongshu ping Gushi xuan 方 東 樹 評 古 詩 選 (rpt. Taibei: Lianjing<br />
chuban shiye gongsi, 1975), 157.<br />
29 Lu Qinli, 1: 451.<br />
30 Ruan Yuan 阮 元 , Sh<strong>is</strong>anjing zhushu 十 三 經 注 疏 . Mao shi zhengyi 毛 詩<br />
正 義 (Taibei: Yiwen yinshuguan, 1955), 140.
222<br />
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I am filled with desire for my lord,<br />
<strong>the</strong> heart <strong>is</strong> overfull, <strong>the</strong> head sick.<br />
How can I get <strong>the</strong> plant <strong>of</strong> forgetfulness.<br />
and plant it behind <strong>the</strong> house?<br />
I am filled with desire for my lord,<br />
it makes me heartsick.<br />
When mei appears in later texts, it <strong>is</strong> <strong>of</strong>ten in <strong>the</strong> compound xinmei<br />
心 痗 , literally “heart-sick.” I have deliberately m<strong>is</strong>translated <strong>the</strong><br />
first line <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Shijing p<strong>as</strong>sage above (which should mean “May it<br />
rain!”) for <strong>the</strong> sake <strong>of</strong> Xie Lingyun’s poem. Rain and something<br />
like depression seem <strong>to</strong> come <strong>to</strong>ge<strong>the</strong>r here, continuing in <strong>the</strong> next<br />
phr<strong>as</strong>e. Hundian 昏 墊 , lamely translated <strong>as</strong> “overwhelmed,” w<strong>as</strong><br />
<strong>the</strong> term for <strong>the</strong> mind’s confusion and <strong>the</strong> physical flooding suffered<br />
in <strong>the</strong> great flood described in <strong>the</strong> Shu (IV.I.1): “Mighty waters<br />
inundate <strong>the</strong> heavens; spreading surges encircle <strong>the</strong> mountains and<br />
spill over hills; <strong>the</strong> folk below are overwhelmed” 洪 水 滔 天 , 浩 浩 懷<br />
山 襄 陵 , 下 民 昏 墊 . 31 <strong>The</strong> hun <strong>of</strong> hundian <strong>is</strong> prec<strong>is</strong>ely <strong>the</strong> sense <strong>of</strong><br />
darkness or shadow, confusion. Xie Lingyun’s use <strong>of</strong> “allusion” here<br />
seems <strong>to</strong> be a way <strong>to</strong> represent depression.<br />
Out <strong>of</strong> <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> line archaically resonant with despondency,<br />
confusion, and water, <strong>the</strong> poet, who we see now <strong>as</strong> only a wayfarer<br />
in a guest lodge, r<strong>is</strong>es and gazes out in<strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> darkening scene. What<br />
he sees <strong>is</strong> a v<strong>is</strong>ion emerging out <strong>of</strong> old poetry, in <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> c<strong>as</strong>e <strong>the</strong> coda<br />
<strong>of</strong> “Calling Back <strong>the</strong> Soul” 招 魂 . 32 <strong>The</strong> speaker <strong>is</strong> galloping in <strong>the</strong><br />
darkness with <strong>the</strong> king, which <strong>is</strong> somehow linked <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> wandering<br />
soul <strong>of</strong> that o<strong>the</strong>r famous exile, Qu Yuan, wandering, mad, in <strong>the</strong><br />
sou<strong>the</strong>rn wilderness:<br />
Those on foot reached <strong>to</strong> where we charged,<br />
and <strong>the</strong> hunt-leader galloped ahead.<br />
We curbed <strong>the</strong>ir stampede <strong>to</strong> an e<strong>as</strong>y gait,<br />
<strong>the</strong>n bent <strong>the</strong> chariots round <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> right.<br />
With <strong>the</strong> king I d<strong>as</strong>hed through <strong>the</strong> fens,<br />
we raced <strong>to</strong> see who would be <strong>the</strong> first.<br />
<strong>The</strong> king himself made <strong>the</strong> shot,<br />
步 及 驟 處 兮 誘 騁 先<br />
抑 騖 若 通 兮 引 車 右 還<br />
與 王 趨 夢 兮 課 後 先<br />
君 王 親 發 兮 憚 青 兕<br />
31 Ibid., Shang shu 尚 書 , 66.<br />
32 Chuci jiaoshi, 142-3.
Early Medieval China 10-11.1 (2004) 223<br />
<strong>the</strong> black buffalo w<strong>as</strong> slain.<br />
Red brightness <strong>is</strong> follow by night,<br />
<strong>the</strong> time does not let us linger.<br />
Marsh orchids cover <strong>the</strong> trail,<br />
<strong>the</strong> path here fades away.<br />
<strong>The</strong> river rolls in swollen floods,<br />
above <strong>the</strong>re are maples.<br />
<strong>The</strong> eyes reach a full thousand leagues<br />
wounding <strong>the</strong> heart in spring.<br />
O soul! Turn back!<br />
Al<strong>as</strong> for <strong>the</strong> Southland.<br />
朱 明 承 夜 兮 時 不 可 以 淹<br />
皐 蘭 被 徑 兮 斯 路 漸<br />
湛 湛 江 水 兮 上 有 楓<br />
極 千 里 兮 傷 春 心<br />
魂 兮 歸 來 哀 江 南<br />
<strong>The</strong> “lotus first coming out on <strong>the</strong> pool” <strong>is</strong> also from earlier<br />
“Calling Back <strong>the</strong> Soul,” <strong>the</strong> first four syllables verbatim <strong>as</strong> a line,<br />
and <strong>the</strong> “pool” from <strong>the</strong> preceding line, indicating where <strong>the</strong><br />
lotuses were growing. If <strong>the</strong> poet looks out on diverging paths, he<br />
also sees that “marsh orchids cover <strong>the</strong> trail”: <strong>the</strong> soul <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> sick<br />
and dying man, a heartsick Qu Yuan, wants <strong>to</strong> go home, but <strong>the</strong><br />
way <strong>is</strong> d<strong>is</strong>appearing.<br />
It <strong>is</strong> e<strong>as</strong>y <strong>to</strong> get lost in <strong>the</strong> accumulating echoes <strong>of</strong> earlier texts,<br />
but <strong>the</strong>y have both a pattern and a flavor. “S<strong>to</strong>pping by My Villa in<br />
Shining” <strong>is</strong> closely engaged with Tao Qian and h<strong>as</strong> few <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong><br />
archaic echoes <strong>of</strong> “V<strong>is</strong>iting South Pavilion.” Here, however, lost<br />
bearings are everywhere; darkness <strong>is</strong> coming on; if <strong>the</strong> poet <strong>is</strong> only<br />
a sojourner, <strong>the</strong> paths that lead away from <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> place are covered<br />
over; sickness and depression gradually modulate <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> wandering<br />
soul, like Qu Yuan. <strong>The</strong> references <strong>of</strong> words blurs: <strong>the</strong> “red<br />
brightness,” 朱 明 , which in “Calling Back <strong>the</strong> Soul” referred <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong><br />
daylight, seems <strong>to</strong> come back in its more common sense <strong>as</strong> <strong>the</strong><br />
attribute <strong>of</strong> summer. 33<br />
33 Li Shan 李 善 (d. 689) cites <strong>the</strong> Erya 爾 雅 , defining zhuming 朱 明 <strong>as</strong><br />
summer. Xiao Tong, Wen xuan (Taibei: Wenjin chubanshe, 1987), 1041. Huang<br />
Jie h<strong>as</strong> zhuming <strong>as</strong> summer coming in; but by h<strong>is</strong> citation <strong>of</strong> Huananzi 淮 南 子<br />
regarding <strong>the</strong> heavy rains in <strong>the</strong> l<strong>as</strong>t month <strong>of</strong> summer, Li Shan clearly takes<br />
summer’s zhuming <strong>as</strong> p<strong>as</strong>sing on. Huang Jie 黃 節 , Xie Kangle shi zhu 謝 康 樂 詩<br />
注 (rpt. Taibei: Yiwen yinshuguan, 1967), 79-80. <strong>The</strong> lotuses first coming out in<br />
line seven strongly suggests that <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> <strong>is</strong> <strong>the</strong> transition from spring <strong>to</strong> summer.<br />
<strong>The</strong> blurring <strong>of</strong> referents <strong>is</strong> proper: all brightness and clarity <strong>is</strong> going.
224<br />
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We have something <strong>of</strong> textual free <strong>as</strong>sociation. To be at a<br />
“guest lodge” and notice “paths diverging” makes him less <strong>the</strong><br />
governor than <strong>the</strong> “p<strong>as</strong>sing traveler.” What makes <strong>the</strong> p<strong>as</strong>sing<br />
traveler stay? Old words provide that answer, from Laozi 35:<br />
“Music [medicine] and fine food, / <strong>the</strong> p<strong>as</strong>sing traveler stays” 樂<br />
[ 藥 ] 與 餌 , 過 客 止 . 34 <strong>The</strong>se should be <strong>the</strong> ple<strong>as</strong>ures <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> senses,<br />
with <strong>the</strong> reading yue 樂 , “music”; but <strong>the</strong> figure <strong>of</strong> illness,<br />
“heartsickness” and depression turned <strong>to</strong> physical debilitation, calls<br />
for medicine, yao 藥 .<br />
Flood and <strong>the</strong> change <strong>of</strong> se<strong>as</strong>ons become <strong>the</strong> “autumn floods”<br />
<strong>of</strong> Zhuangzi, leading not <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> v<strong>as</strong>tness <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> ocean (gui), but gui<br />
<strong>as</strong> return home, <strong>to</strong> rest <strong>the</strong> shadow that frightens one in<strong>to</strong> constant<br />
motion. <strong>The</strong> l<strong>as</strong>t lines are <strong>the</strong> usual Xie Lingyun closure, looking<br />
for someone <strong>to</strong> understand him and <strong>the</strong> way he sees <strong>the</strong> world. All<br />
<strong>the</strong> commenta<strong>to</strong>rs agree that liangzhi 良 知 should mean a “good<br />
friend”—and clearly does so by <strong>the</strong> beginning <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> next<br />
century—but Xie Lingyun <strong>the</strong> librarian must have known Mencius<br />
VIIA.15: “He who knows without reflection, knows intuitively” 所<br />
不 慮 而 知 者 , 其 良 知 也 . He does seek a good friend, but a good<br />
friend who “knows without reflection.”<br />
Throughout h<strong>is</strong> poetry Xie Lingyun <strong>is</strong> less using allusion than<br />
recognizing <strong>the</strong> references <strong>of</strong> h<strong>is</strong> textual learning in h<strong>is</strong> life and <strong>the</strong><br />
landscape. In one version, <strong>the</strong> previously read text <strong>is</strong> possibly xu<br />
虛 , “empty”; through experience <strong>the</strong>y may become shi 實 , “actual.”<br />
Such texts seek confirmation in experience and <strong>the</strong> world—though<br />
confirmation does not always come. At o<strong>the</strong>r times fragments <strong>of</strong><br />
old textual knowledge appear without being sought. Xie reads<br />
hexagrams in <strong>the</strong> landscape in “On Climbing Green Screen<br />
Mountain in Yongjia” 登 永 嘉 綠 嶂 山 and in “Fuchun Isle” 富 春 渚 :<br />
34 Huang Jie cites Yao Jichuan’s 姚 姬 傳 proposed emendation <strong>of</strong> 藥 餌 <strong>to</strong> 樂<br />
餌 on <strong>the</strong> b<strong>as</strong><strong>is</strong> <strong>of</strong> Laozi’s 樂 與 餌 , 過 客 止 . In <strong>the</strong> Six Dyn<strong>as</strong>ties, <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> <strong>is</strong> cited <strong>as</strong><br />
yaoer 藥 餌 ra<strong>the</strong>r than yueer 樂 餌 . It <strong>is</strong> clear <strong>the</strong> phr<strong>as</strong>e refers <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> Laozi<br />
p<strong>as</strong>sage in Bao Zhao’s “<strong>The</strong> Bitter Sorrows <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Poor Man” 代 貧 賤 苦 愁 行 :<br />
“Music and fine food shame <strong>the</strong> p<strong>as</strong>sing traveler” 藥 餌 愧 過 客 (Lu Qinli, 2:<br />
1268). We can see, however, that <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> <strong>is</strong> unders<strong>to</strong>od <strong>as</strong> “medicine and fine food”<br />
ra<strong>the</strong>r than “music and fine food” in a line by Jiang Zong 江 總 (519-94):<br />
“Dwelling in seclusion, I swallow medicine and fine food” 幽 居 服 藥 餌 (Lu<br />
Qinli, 3: 2586).
Early Medieval China 10-11.1 (2004) 225<br />
“Nature” <strong>is</strong> read in terms <strong>of</strong> textual knowledge, texts which make<br />
authoritative claims on <strong>the</strong> meaning <strong>of</strong> Nature’s images. 35<br />
When we have a strong sense <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> textuality <strong>of</strong> h<strong>is</strong> gaze, it<br />
<strong>of</strong>ten gives a force <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> phr<strong>as</strong>ing that <strong>is</strong> o<strong>the</strong>rw<strong>is</strong>e flat. In “Seven-<br />
League Rapids” 七 里 瀨 , 36 he concludes:<br />
目 睹 嚴 子 瀨 , 想 屬 任 公 釣 . 誰 謂 今 古 殊 , 異 代 可 同 調 .<br />
With my own eyes I have seen Yanzi’s Rapids,<br />
which my fancy links <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> f<strong>is</strong>hing <strong>of</strong> Duke Ren.<br />
Who claims that p<strong>as</strong>t and present differ?—<br />
different ages can share <strong>the</strong> same temper.<br />
It <strong>is</strong> not simply that he sees, but in seeing he recognizes what he<br />
already knows; it <strong>is</strong> not just that he “sees” Yanzi’s Rapids, but that<br />
he sees <strong>the</strong>m “with h<strong>is</strong> own eyes.” Th<strong>is</strong> <strong>is</strong> <strong>the</strong> model that clinches<br />
<strong>the</strong> movement <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> poem from depression <strong>to</strong> exhilaration; but<br />
<strong>the</strong>n <strong>the</strong> poet’s mind moves again out from <strong>the</strong> world <strong>to</strong> old texts<br />
and fancies (xiang 想 ), from Yan Guang <strong>to</strong> Zhuangzi’s Duke Ren.<br />
Leaving h<strong>is</strong> books, he comes <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> text in <strong>the</strong> world, and from one<br />
text <strong>to</strong> ano<strong>the</strong>r text, which <strong>is</strong> <strong>the</strong> p<strong>as</strong>t echoing in <strong>the</strong> present.<br />
All <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> allusions in <strong>the</strong> poems above would have been e<strong>as</strong>ily<br />
recognizable, except perhaps for Xie Lingyun’s personal engagement<br />
with Tao Qian’s poem and <strong>the</strong> model <strong>of</strong> Tao Qian. And<br />
because <strong>the</strong> reference <strong>to</strong> Tao Qian’s poems did not use <strong>the</strong> same<br />
words, it would not have been later recognized <strong>as</strong> allusion per se.<br />
If one looks for old texts in <strong>the</strong> world, <strong>the</strong>y would probably not be<br />
<strong>the</strong> most erudite, but <strong>the</strong> most familiar, virtually “known without<br />
reflection,” suo bu lü er zhi 所 不 慮 而 知 . <strong>The</strong> question here <strong>is</strong> not a<br />
d<strong>is</strong>play <strong>of</strong> erudition—though Xie w<strong>as</strong> indeed very erudite—but<br />
ra<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> ratification <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> familiar.<br />
We began <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> <strong>paper</strong> with <strong>the</strong> question <strong>of</strong> allusion. Later in <strong>the</strong><br />
tradition, allusion w<strong>as</strong> <strong>of</strong>ten a way <strong>of</strong> ratifying a closed community<br />
<strong>of</strong> learning—those who can understand. Once Li Shan appears<br />
with h<strong>is</strong> meticulous annotations, we presume a world <strong>of</strong> those who<br />
do not have <strong>the</strong> texts “in <strong>the</strong>ir belly,” and thus cannot “know<br />
without reflection.” When we read Xie Lingyun, we should never<br />
forget that he w<strong>as</strong> not simply (or even willingly) <strong>the</strong> poet in <strong>the</strong><br />
35 For <strong>the</strong>se poems, see Lu Qinli, 2: 1160, 1162-3.<br />
36 Lu Qinli, 2: 1160.
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mountains wearing oddly shaped shoes; he w<strong>as</strong> a librarian, one<br />
who read, anthologized, and indeed catalogued what w<strong>as</strong> probably<br />
<strong>the</strong> best library <strong>of</strong> h<strong>is</strong> day. He had more texts “in h<strong>is</strong> belly” than<br />
most <strong>of</strong> h<strong>is</strong> contemporaries ever saw. Since those texts were “in h<strong>is</strong><br />
belly” before he ever went forth in<strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> mountains, he read <strong>the</strong><br />
physical world through those texts—and <strong>the</strong> scenes <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> physical<br />
world had a resonance for him that <strong>the</strong>y had for few <strong>of</strong> h<strong>is</strong><br />
contemporaries. In <strong>th<strong>is</strong></strong> sense, h<strong>is</strong> constant w<strong>is</strong>h for someone <strong>to</strong><br />
understand takes on a ra<strong>the</strong>r different flavor: it <strong>is</strong> not really<br />
“intuitive knowledge,” liangzhi, but ra<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> cultural weight <strong>of</strong><br />
h<strong>is</strong> perceptions and <strong>the</strong> terms <strong>of</strong> h<strong>is</strong> thought. He could justifiably<br />
feel that no one unders<strong>to</strong>od, because probably few in h<strong>is</strong> age knew<br />
enough <strong>to</strong> understand. Perhaps, like Li Shan, <strong>the</strong>y could recognize<br />
<strong>the</strong> source <strong>of</strong> a phr<strong>as</strong>e; but <strong>the</strong>y could not feel <strong>the</strong> weight <strong>of</strong> seeing<br />
<strong>the</strong> p<strong>as</strong>t in <strong>the</strong> present.