2025/05/08

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Taiwan Review

Love story of T'ang

April 01, 1973
Ducks fell from the sky, stunned by the beauty of Royal Consort Yang, and the Emperor lost his throne because of a passion which he had no power to resist

Was this the face which launched a thousand ships? ----------Goethe, Faust

Her clothes as light as floating clouds,
Her face as beautiful and bright as flowers in full bloom,
The spring breeze blew by the royal pavilion,
While the morning dew grew thicker glistening with rainbow hue.
Where to behold the harmony between nature and flesh?
If not on the peaks of Jade Mountains, then
In the crystalline Palace of the Moon. 
                                                                                          Li Po, Ching Ping Lo

These lines written by one of China's greatest poets, Li Po (701-762 A.D.) of the T'ang dynasty, praises the heavenly beauty of Consort Yang Yu-hwan of the court of Tang Emperor Hsuan Tsung (713-755) during the reign of Kaiyuan (713-741). Though not a girl of noble birth, she was chosen for her beauty and became one of the royal consorts. With her unparalleled charm and shrewdness, she gained such royal favor as to hold a dominant place in the imperial harem and played a significant role in China's history.

How could a girl of ordinary family have reached such heights at a time when the social status of women was greatly inferior to that of men? The answer is found in the personal history of Consort Yang as recorded in the dynastic history of the Tang dynasty (618-907), the poem Song of Everlasting Sorrow by Pai Chu-i (722-846) and the Story of Consort Yang by Lo Shih of the Sung dynasty (960-1280).

Yang Yu-hwan was born in Tutou Village, Yunglo, Szechwan province, around 700. Her great grandfather, Yang Ling-pen, was magistrate-gover­nor of Chinchow prefecture and her father, Yang Yuan-yen was a petty census officer. As a child, Yang Yu-hwan was consigned to the care of Tsao Yuan-chiao, a subordinate of her uncle in Honan province. In the 11th moon of the 22th lunar year of the reign of Kaiyuan, around the year 735, she was married to Prince Shou Wang-mao, the second son of Emperor Hsuan Tsung by his royal consort Wu Hwei. She lived happily until the last year of the Kaiyuan reign.

As the dynastic history of Tang has it, on a certain day in the 10th moon of that year, Em­peror Hsuan Tsung visited the Hot Springs Palace for merrymaking with a train of court ladies. Royal Consort Wu Hwei had passed away not long before and the Emperor was anxious to fill the emotional vacuum. Looking at the galaxy of court beauties with him, he was disappointed. Their painted faces and artificial smiles held no attraction for him.

Then suddenly, among royal family members who came to pay obeisance, he discovered Yang Yu-hwan, his own daughter-in-law. She stood out like a full-blown peony among all the other flowers. At the first sight of her beauty, the Emperor gasped in delight. Poets later maintained that her brightness put the full moon to shame and compared her beauty to spring flowers in full bloom. Blinded by her unearthly beauty, wild ducks fell to earth in a trance of delight; fish lost their senses and floated to the surface of the water. Her jewel-like eyes spoke more eloquently of her hidden passion than her mouth, from which issued the music of her sweet voice. Her figure was perfect; she was created by the genius of Heaven.

In his inner palace, the Emperor kept on thinking of his daughter-in-law. The more he thought of her, the stronger was his desire. But how could he take his own daughter-in-law into his harem?

The Emperor ordered Kao Li-shih, his chief eunuch, to have Yang Yu-hwan ordained as a Taoist priestess. This would sever the matrimonial tie between the Prince and Yang Yu-hwan without resort to divorce. Yang Yu-hwan briefly took up her abode in the Tai Chen Taoist Temple inside the royal palace and assumed the religious title of Tai Chen.

In the seventh year of Tien Pao (742-755), Yang Yu-hwan received the title of Royal Consort. She was brought to the inner palace for her formal marriage to the Emperor. The royal orchestra played "Dance by Heavenly Beau ties in Feather Costumes."

At nightfall, the Emperor ordered the ladies-in­-waiting to lead Yang Yu-hwan to the Hwa Ching Hot Springs. She was bathed, anointed with fragrant salves and perfumes and attired in royal garments.

She was like a blossoming lotus flower plucked fresh from a crystal pool as attendants led her into the presence of the Emperor, who took her to his private apartments. The bath and unaccustomed luxury of dress made her languid and drowsy. This only added to her personal charm. The Emperor found his new consort a charming and responsive mistress. He gave her a pair of golden hairpins and a jewel box lined with golden threads as a pledge of love and devotion.

From this time forward, the Emperor was in constant attendance and showered her with royal favors. Spellbound, he rose late and failed to attend to the affairs of the Empire. Royal parties were held frequently. Scores of palace beauties attired in colorful costumes of silk and feathers danced to the music of the royal orchestra. With long sleeves trailing along the spotless floor, the ladies impersonating fairies and the Goddess of the Moon whirled through their steps as butterflies might flutter along the spring breeze in time to the song of orioles.

In the reign of Kaiyuan new varieties of peony had been planted in front of the Sunken Fragrance Pavilion east of the Shing King Pond. With the return of spring, the peonies burst into white, pink and light purple blossoms. On fine days the Emperor would visit the royal garden with Consort Yang and her ladies-in-waiting. The Em­peror rode his famous steed, Light Bearer in the Dark. Following him were Consort Yang in a royal carriage pulled by hand and a galaxy of court beau ties and sing-song girls.

On one occasion, Li Kwei-nien, a court musician, was going to direct the performance of an opera. The Emperor stopped him and said: "On the occasion when I appreciate the beauty of the peony, the king of all flowers, with my royal consort, it is not fitting to present old music." He summoned Li Po, the court poet, to compose new songs. Half drunk on his beloved wine, the poet walked into the royal garden with unsteady steps. He was clad in a white silk robe with long sleeves and broad belt. His fine-cut face was flawless and clean as a jade moon. A hand rippled to his breast. Bright eyes sparkled under crescent-shaped eyebrows. Intelligence and wisdom shone from those eyes.

As Li Po looked around, he caught sight of Yang Yu-hwan leaning against a peony tree. The varicolored blossoms formed a garland for her head and presented a contrast with an oval faces as bright and fresh as a budding lily newly washed in the rain. In the eye of Li Po, this was perfect harmony of flower and flesh. He composed these lines:

Pearls of fragrant morning dew gather on
A blooming flower of provoking red.
A matrimonial union with the reigning beauty
Threw the Emperor into such ecstasies of joy
As experienced by King Chu of the Warring States period
Who had a wild night with a heavenly beauty
In a fairy gorge hemmed in between the precipitous
Cliffs of the Wu Mountain.
No one in the royal palace of Emperor Han Wu
Could match her in beauty and charm
Except for Consort Chao (Fei Yen)
Who looked her best only in red.
The reigning beauty and the crowning flower
Vie with each other in splendor and brightness.
While feasting his eyes on the beauty of the Royal Consort
And the crowning flower
The Emperor sat smiling in admiration.
Leaning upon the balustrade north of the Sunken Fragrance
Pavilion, the Royal Consort was so eloquent in expression and smile
As to reflect the hidden passion and sweet sorrow of the spring.

The Emperor liked the poems and ordered Li Kwei-nien to set them to music for an opera entitl­ed "How Happy to Live in Peace and Order." In winter, the Emperor and Royal Consort often visited the Hwa Ching Palace. They rode side by side in a hand-drawn carriage while ladies-in­-waiting, eunuchs and royal guards flanked them. During her stay in the Hwa Ching Palace, the Royal Consort often bathed in the Lotus Hot Springs and dressed her hair in the Upright Tower. East of the palace stood the magnificent edifice of Yang Kuo-chung, the premier and cousin of the Royal Consort, and nearby were the mansions of the Duchesses of Han, Chin and Kwai, sisters of the Royal Consort.

The Yang, Han, Chin and Kwai families frequently accompanied the royal couple on their pleasure trips to Changan City. People rushed outside to pick up anything dropped by the royal procession.

Szechwan was then famous for lichee. Consort Yang had developed a taste for the fruit as a child. Lichees of Nanhai south of the Chin Mountains were of the best quality. The emperor ordered that the Royal Consort be kept well sup­plied with her favorites. Fast riders transported the lichees in relays to ensure arrival at Changan in perfect condition. Tu Mu (803-856), a poet of mid-T'ang, wrote this poem:

"Looking back at Changan
One would find luxuries and comforts
In thick profusion,
Shining silk cloth of fine filament
Piled up as high as a mountain.
At daybreak
Red painted doors and ornamented portals
Open in succession by hundreds and thousands.
While the Royal Consort smiled welcome to a fast rider
At full gallop leaving behind him
A cluster of cloud of red dust,
Nobody knew basketsful of lichee
Were brought to her fresh and tasteful.

The Emperor showed favor to the Royal Consort's three sisters, who were also famous beauties and witty conversationalists. His Majesty found them to be agreeable companions and they had free access to the royal palace. The poet Chang Hu wrote:

The Duchess of the State of Kwai stood high in royal favor.
At daybreak she rode into the palace gate.
No rouge and powder applied to her face
For fear of spoiling her natural beauty.
She presented herself to His Majesty with trimmed
Eyebrows as graceful and elegant as
A pair of crescent moons.

Yang Yuan-yen, the father of Consort Yang, was made defense minister; Yang Chial, later known as Yang Kuo-chung, a cousin of the Royal Consort, was admitted to the court as a vice minister of the first rank. He was later promoted to premier.

As time went by, the Yang family rose to the heights of power and influence. The Emperor was in the company of the Royal Consort by day and night. To curry favor with the Yangs, courtiers made handsome presents and competed for their favor. Yang Kuo-chung held great power as premier. He could promote or demote officials, sometimes without the knowledge of the Emperor. He welcomed bribes and played favorites for his own gain. In time the influence of the Yang family reached beyond the Forbidden City to the level of governorships and magistracies - all at exorbitant prices.

The position of Yang family members was so strong that the royal family dared not challenge them. A saying then popular among the people said: "Don't be unhappy at the birth of a girl nor be overjoyed at the sight of a newborn boy. A girl may become Royal Consort while a boy achieves nothing."

Consort Yang's charms prompted Emperor Hsuan Tsung to build a magnificent summer palace looking toward the mountains surrounding the Forbidden City. Gold, silver, ivory and jewels were lavishly used. This was the Palace of Longevity and a token of everlasting love between Emperor and Consort. The couple spent their nights enjoying the breeze, identifying the twinkl­ing stars and amusing themselves with music, poetry and love.

On one seventh day of the seventh lunar month, Emperor Hsuan Tsung and Yang Yu-hwan were at the Palace of Longevity. According to Chinese mythology, it is on this night that the stars of Cowherd and Sewing Maid meet on the heavenly bridge of the Milky Way. The Emperor related the romantic tale and Consort Yang com­posed this poem:

Eventide:
When I move
My silken garments
Spread their fragrance
Sweet as incense,
The Red water-lilies
Wave like tassels.
In the autumn twilight haze
A fresh breeze
Stirs fleecy clouds
That cling about the mountain tops.
And the willows by the pool
Bow low,
And gently kiss the water
With
Their slender, bright-green leaves.

The lovers knelt and took this oath of eternal love: "In heaven we wish to remain together like two birds always flying in pairs; on the earth we wish to become a pair of trees with their branches entwining. Heaven and earth, though enduring and lasting, will sometime come to an end, while our unbroken love will go on and on forever." As they spoke, a chilly wind swept through the pavilion, ruffling the silken hangings of their couch. The water-lilies trembled and dropped their petals; the moon took shelter behind the clouds.

Their dark future was incarnated in An Lu­-shan, a Turk of Kitan descent born in Liaotung, south of Manchuria beyond the Great Wall. He gained royal favor through Consort Yang's favor and was to become her lover. As a boy he was taken captive by Chinese soldiers and sold as a slave to an officer. Exercising great patience, he pleased his master and won his freedom. The army became his stepping stone upward. He advanced from private to officer and finally reached the court.

Fat and clumsy, An played the role of court clown to amuse the Emperor and his favorite consorts. Consort Yang was tired of the routine of the court and found herself entertained by An. She took him under her protection.

Though sly and cunning, An Lu-shan pretended to be naive, uncouth and ignorant of court etiquette. Once he bowed to Consort Yang without paying obeisance to her master. Displeased, the Emperor demanded, "Why do you bow to the Royal Consort alone in the presence of the Em­peror? " An Lu-shan replied in feigned innocence, "We barbarians know only our mothers because we can hardly establish the identify of our fathers." The Emperor was satisfied.

An Lu-shan was made governor-general of Fang Yang in present-day Eastern Manchuria, Hotung to the east of the Yellow River and Ping Lu in present-day Hopei Province. As an influential courtier and powerful field marshal, An Lu-shan went back and forth between his post and Changan in response to calls of the Emperor. During his absences from Changan, rumors were rife that he was making feverish preparations for open revolt. Jealous of An's growing influence and power, Yang Kuo-chung urged the Emperor to prepare for a possible military revolt. However, Consort Yang always put in a good word for An and the Emperor's confidence in him remained unshaken despite repeated accusations.

Later, the Crown Prince joined with the premier and other courtiers in warning the Em­peror against An Lu-shan. The Emperor summoned An, who threw himself at his master's feet and denied all accusations. The Emperor was convinced and gave him new honors and fresh favors. Graft and corruption became widespread under the Yang family. This, coupled with the fantastic extravagance of the Emperor, drained the na­tional treasury. When famine struck, the masses were driven to desperation.

An Lu-shan rose in rebellion in the 14th year of the Tien Pao reign. His troops captured Lo Yang, the second capital, and routed the Emperor's army. Ko Shu-han, the aged commander-in-chief of the royal forces, was taken captive and the rebels marched toward Changan, leaving a trail of blood and destruction in their wake.

Some courtiers wanted to make peace. Others urged the Emperor to leave the throne and take command of the armies for a life or death struggle.

Premier Yang Kuo-chung told the Yang sisters: "Our days are numbered if the Royal Prince holds the reins of government." The sisters urged Consort Yang to persuade the Emperor to change his mind.

After listening to Consort Yang, the Emperor decided to heed the advice of Yang Kuo-chung and flee to Szechwan with the royal family. The party, which included the Yangs, left Changan hastily and without sufficient supplies for themselves and the royal troops. They found many villages and towns deserted, all food stocks gone.

When the column reached Ma Kwei Slope, a trading post in western Shensi, hungry soldiers mutinied. Yang Kuo-chung was their first target. The premier had been seen talking with Tibetan mercenaries. The mutineers claimed he was conspiring with foreigners to betray the Empire and killed him. The Yang sisters also were put to death.

The Emperor told General Chen Hsuan-li to promise the soldiers titles and wealth when they reached Szechwan province. But things were out of hand. Mutineers demanded the head of the Royal Consort. General Chen decided he had no choice except to comply. The Emperor was convulsed with sobs and turned his face away as Kao Li-shih, the chief eunuch, led the Royal Consort out a temple where they had taken refuge. With the eunuch helping, Yang Yu-hwan hanged herself from a pear tree, using her own sash as a noose.

Satisfied, the mutinous soldiers dispersed. Kao Li-shih cut down the body and wrapped it in silk. The aged Emperor broke down completely at the sight of his dead love.

Hung Sze-fang, a poet and playwright of the Ch'ing dynasty (1664-1911 A.D.), wrote these lines in an opera entitled "The Longevity Palace:"

"How desolate and forlorn stood the Makwei Post by the side of a Buddhist temple. When the reigning beauty sacrificed herself for the sake of her beloved emperor, drops of red blood were still rolling off her silk girdle in profusion. The unending sorrow went on and on to eternity; the pear tree on which she hanged herself was held sacred in memory of her hard fate; a heap of yellow earth marked the burial place of the heartbroken beauty. Look and lo! Nobody went across the desolate open fields to lament over the fading blossoms of the pear tree for her sake. What a pitiable sight to see the lonely soul of the ancient beauty weeping in bitter tears the long night away in consonance with the mourning and plaintive notes of cuckoo under the chilly moon­light."

At daybreak, several basketsful of fresh lichee were brought from Yung-chow for the Royal Consort. The Emperor's grief was intensified. He ordered the fruit placed atop his beloved's grave.

After the fall of Changan, the rebel forces made little progress and the Emperor reached Szechwan. Bereft of his love, he no longer cared to rule. He abdicated in favor of the Crown Prince.

With the help of such brilliant generals as Kuo Tse-i and Li Kwang-pi, the new Emperor rallied the people of the northwest in support of the royal forces. Even so, the war dragged on for 10 years. An Lu-shan was assassinated by his own son and mutinous generals. It was not until 766 that peace was restored.

The former Emperor returned to Changan and took up his abode in the Southern Palace. He found life tedious. He could think only of the Royal Consort. One chilly night he had a strange dream. He met a Taoist priest who claimed to have the magic power of traveling to Heaven or down to hell. The former emperor asked the priest to go in search of the soul of the Royal Consort.

The Taoist looked and looked to no avail. At last he came to a towering island mountain rising out of the Eastern Sea. Known as Peng Yin, the mountain was inaccessible to ordinary mortals because the waters surrounding it would not support even the weight of a feather. The Taoist priest called upon his magic powers, reached the island and ascended the mountain by a circuitous and narrow path.

On a terrace at the top stood a magnificent building of jade, coral and gold. There was a spacious garden fieled with rare plants and flowers. Exotic birds sang sweetly.

Mediating on the beau ties of nature, the priest walked to the main gate. He knocked three times and announced his arrival in prayer. The gate was opened by a teen-age maiden of great beauty. She was clad in a flowing gown of purple fastened at the waist with a broad silk belt. She led him inside and bade him wait. When she returned with her mistress, her own beauty seemed as faded as the fallen pear blossom. Yang Yu-hwan's beauty was to her servitor as the sun to the moon.

The Taoist priest knew this to be the spirit of Consort Yang. He greeted her and presented the Emperor's message of love. She was overcome with emotion and burst into tears that only made her look more lovely. Finally regaining her com­posure, she handed the priest one of the golden hairpins and a jewel box she had received from the Emperor. These gifts bespoke her eternal love. She told the priest that she would be true forever. Overwhelmed with grief, she said farewell and retired.

Returning to the mainland, the Taoist priest presented the hairpin and jewel box to the Em­peror and told him of all that had happened. The sight of his beloved's gifts moved the Emperor deeply, and he awoke.

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