Taiwan Today

When the Tang Dynasty came to an end in the beginning of the tenth century, a period of utter anarchy prevailed for fifty­ three years. was divided into many small kingdoms which existed uneasily side by side with one another, each eyeing the other with jealousy and waiting for an opportunity to conquer and enlarge its own domain. This state of affairs lasted until .D. when was once again united under the Sung Dynasty.

Li Yu (937-978), the last king of South Tang, was born in this turbulent age. That little kingdom of his was founded by his grandfather, Li San, in 936. Li Yu was a born poet and was really unfit to be a ruler, especially a ruler in such a chaotic era, when only the strong and mighty, could prevail and survive; but fate ordained him to high position. He succeeded his father in 962. Like many others before and after him, he was a failure as a practical ruler, but the value of his contribution to Chinese poetry can by no means be overlooked; in his hands the T'zu attained a deeper sentiment. Broadly speaking, T’zu is poetry, but T’zu can be sung with music and is generally written in praise of love and other human emotions. It is more natural, more musical; it can express human passions, suffer­ings and sentiments more movingly than poetry. The Tang Dynasty is known to be the golden era of Chinese poetry, but the demand of observance of forms and rules is too rigid; T’zu is freer, it is an emancipation from the rigidity of forms demanded by poetry. Though T’zu was not originated by Li Yu, yet through him it attained great beauty; he is still regarded as one of the greatest composers of T’zu in .

South Tang had already become exceedingly weak before Li Yu came to the throne. During the reign of his father, Li Chin, who was also a poet of no mean order, the policy, of appeasement was first tried. Tributes were sent to the powerful Chou Dynasty in the north, thus South Tang sank from an independent kingdom to the position of a vassal state. In 960 the Sung Dynasty replaced Chou in the north. It was this dynasty which later unified ; its reign lasted 320 years until it was conquered by the Mongols in 1280. Two years later, in 962 when Li Yu came to the throne, the Sung army had reached the north bank of the Yangtze, and the situation was grave. But all Li Yu did was to continue his father's policy of appeasement. Again tributes in the form of gifts of gold and other treasures were sent north, but appeasement could not pacify the ambition of Sung. It only made the weakness of South Tang more apparent; it only delayed, not avoided, the inevitable disaster which finally came in 975 when Chin-ling[1], the capital, was taken. The Sung army under Ts'ao Ping met with only half-hearted resistance, but Li Yu himself knew nothing about this sudden attack at all. When Chin ling was surrounded, he was still attending and listening to the preaching of Buedhist monks in a temple; he was composing a T’zu in the palace garden when the attack began, but be­fore he could finish it the capital fell and he found himself a prisoner. His unfinished T’zu was written in a hurry, and the writing was bad, owing perhaps to fear. It begins:

Spring departs when cherries fall,

Butterflies blissfully flit in pairs.

On my chamber west,

To moon cries the nightingale.

Sadly roll I the king-nei[2] scrall,

And part the silken curtain wide.

Into solitude falls the deserted lane,

Obscure is the green, mist arising ...

The Sung Emperor later remarked that Li Yu could not have been made a prisoner, had he ruled with the same zeal as he composed his poetry and T'zu.

After his capture, when ordered to leave behind Chinling and all that he held dear to go north to the court of Sung, he wrote:

For forty years that has been my home and country,

Three thousand Ii over mountains and rivers it spread.

Majestic palace up to heaven reach,

On lofty trees clouded creepers hang.

When have I known the horrors of war?

Suddenly a captive I become,

I begin to wither and white turns my hair,

When forced to bid my ancestral temple

A hurried adieu,

At my ladies stare I in tears,

In court farewell music continuously played.

When he was crossing the Yangtze with other members of the royal family, he turned and gazed at Chin ling which was rapidly passing out of sight. There he once ruled and enjoyed so much pleasure; now, as a captive, he had to lead a different kind of existence.

The contrast was so great that he was over­whelmed with remorse, and the last sight of his capital could not be anything but moving. He composed a poem:

Both Yangtze banks my native land,

Like a dream thirty bygone years.

In loneliness there Wu gardens lie,

In solitude now Chinling palaces fall.

In clouds conceal the distant peaks,

And heavy is my heart!

In rain steer the homeward sails,

Yet unending my parting tears!

Exiled, three hundred kinsmen and brothers four,

In profound silence each other stare.

For more than a decade Li Yu led a luxurious and sensual existence; the palace was his ivory tower. He was innocent and pure at heart, romantic and sentimental in nature. Within the walled palace he could find no hardship and no poverty; he spent his hours in romantic environs. As a king he was irresponsible; though he voiced constant anxiety over the welfare of his people, yet he never cared over much either for his subjects or country. On the other hand, as a poet, he was of the highest order. He, it can be said, never, even till the very end, faced reality squarely. He loved his kingly position, not because of its duties and responsibilities, those he cared little indeed; but because it provided him with the kind of life he most desired. His innocence of worldly affairs could be best seen in his T’zu in which he described without reserve the life he led, the dissipations he indulged in, and later his most intolerable sufferings­ - poverty and humiliation. When he was kept as a titled prisoner at the court of Sung, he was meanly treated by his captors. A new insulting title of Earl of Disobedience was given him, which was later changed to the Duke of Longshi. It was his spiritual and material sufferings that prompted him to write to his friend in Chinling that he "bathed in tears day and night."

His T’zu may be divided into two periods, with the fall of his capital as the dividing line. The nature of his T'zu of the first period is romantic and carefree, it has a charm and naturalness entirely of its own. He loved music greatly; but if we judge by his poems and T’zu, wine was not his favourite pleasure, for the wore "wine" was only mentioned oc­casionally. This is an interesting point, because almost all well-known Chinese poets of the past always loved wine, from which they drew their inspiration. The following is a poem composed when Li Yu was still at Chinling; it describes the luxurious existence he led and the feast held in the palace.

Snowlike fair ladies skin after ablution,

In hall gracefully dance they one spring eve in rows.

Flutes' melodious pitch breaks into clouds,

Clearly heard is the revived Nei-ts'un[3] tune.

From whence comes this perfumed breeze?

Overcome by wine, on balustrade music I joyously measure.

Let no candles be lit when we part,

Let horse hoofs tread in moonlight calm.

He had Tsao-Wai for queen, who was a skilled dancer and able musician. When she died at the early age of 29, he took her sister as queen.

The second period of Li Yu's T'zu begins with his capture and ends with his death in 978. His T’zu of this period is full of spiritual torments, the desire for freedom, and the longing for his carefree life in Chinling once again. In fact it was his desire for freedom which resulted in his poisoning on his 42nd birthday. It is interesting to note here that in the history of man many kings and high officials died on their birthdays; because on such festive occasions less precaution was taken, and people were more susceptible to death by poisoning. The T'zu of Li Yu's last three years are more stirring; they are overhung with the deep shadow of tragedy; he was like a caged bird longing passionately for his lost freedom. It is through suffering and torment that great artistic creations are conceived and born; this is no less true of T’zu and poetry. The following three T’zu are the best known ones of his second period:

How can human woes avoid?

Everlasting is the parting sorrow!

Homeland I return again in dreams, Tears stream when once awake.

Who with me to high pavillion mount?

Those bright autumn days I long remember,

O! the past no longer exists,

It is but an empty dream!

The second T'zu describes the passing of the spring:

Without bamboo curtain noisy raindrops fall, Spring fading.

Silk quilt resist not the morning chill;

In dreams bygone pleasures I indulge

Remembering not my exile.

On balcony gaze not alone,

O! boundless native lane,

How easy is to part and how hard to return.

In stream fallen petals flow.

Everywhere, everywhere departs the spring.

The third T’zu is also his last, as he was poisoned soon after it was composee:

When end spring flora and autumn moon?

How much past can you recollect?

Into my chamber yesternight,

Gentle zephyr blew, again.

I cannot bear recalling my native land

In moonlight.

Carved balustrade and jade steps there should still exist,

Yet vanish from my cheeks the rosy hues.

What deep sorrow must you endure?

It's like spring river flood,

Eastwares flow.

He was poisoned because of his line "I can­ not bear recalling my native land in moonlight," which betrayed his feeling for his native lane and his longing for freedom. It also shows how innocent he remained up to the very end. When he was already entrap pee he still voiced his feelings freely, regardless of danger. This cannot be done by any subtle and scheming, politicians, but only by a poet; and through his T’zu and poems he attained immortality. After his death he was buried with all the rites and pomp befitting his rank, and was given the posthumous title of King of Wu.