Tao Yuanming

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Journal of Chinese Literature and Culture, Volume 1, Issues 1-2, November
2014, pp. 216-240 (Article)
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For additional information about this article
http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/clc/summary/v001/1.1-2.yuan.html
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Facets of Chinese Culture
Tao Yuanming:
A Symbol of Chinese Culture
YUAN XINGPEI
ALAN BERKOWITZ, Translator
Abstract A writer of enormous impact on Chinese literary history, Tao Yuanming 陶淵明 (ca.
365–427) became a cultural symbol through his deep and pervasive influence on generations of
scholar-officials. What emerged was the image of an individual pure and high-minded, freethinking in spirit, reconciled to poverty, and upholding “ineptitude.” Through a survey of the mu
Tao 慕陶 (idolizing Tao) phenomenon in Chinese cultural history, this essay discusses the process
by which Tao assumed the status of a wenhua fuhao 文化符號 (cultural symbol) and explores the
factors that made it possible. Specifically, this essay maintains that Tao achieved this exemplary
role through the cultural work of later scholar-officials who reimagined, constructed, and
selectively formulated a paradigmatic character-type on top of the base supplied by his own core
character. Finally, this essay discusses the international and contemporary significance of Tao
Yuanming.
Keywords Tao Yuanming, cultural symbol, Chinese culture, scholar-official community
Tao Yuanming 陶淵明 (ca. 365–427; Tao Qian 陶潛 being his formal name), a writer
who lived during the Eastern Jin and Southern and Northern Dynasties period,
composed over a hundred poems throughout his life as well as the much-cherished
compositions “Wuliu xiansheng zhuan” 五柳先生傳 (The Biography of Mr. Five
Willows), “Taohua yuan ji” 桃花源記 (The Record of the Peach Blossom Fountainhead), and “Guiqulai xi ci” 歸去來兮辭 (Leaving for Home!).1 His thought, character, and conduct gave rise to wonderful stories and anecdotes; long recounted
Journal of Chinese Literature and Culture • 1:1–2 • November 2014
DOI 10.1215/23290048-2749419 • © 2014 by Duke University Press
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Yuan • Tao Yuanming
with delight by scholar-officials, these exerted a deep and broad influence on the
spiritual pursuits and values of the scholar-official community.
Born into an illustrious clan, Tao Yuanming began with an excellent education. His youth was filled with a firm resolve to make great contributions and
accomplish great tasks and equally to bring honor to his clan. Yet faced with the
reality of constant Eastern Jin warlord strife, as well as the decline of humanistic
values in this tumultuous time, he gradually gave up his pursuit of position and
wealth and sought instead the serenity of a life spent in fields and gardens, hoping
through reclusion to attain freedom of mind and spirit to shape his own values. His
life experience reflects a situation often encountered by traditional Chinese intellectuals when forced to confront real-world politics. Hence his choice and perseverance became a model for the collective spiritual quest of later scholar-officials.
For centuries, scholar-officials read and recited Tao’s corpus, composed he
Tao 和陶 (matching Tao) poems, and created paintings inspired by Tao. Repeatedly
recast in poetry and painting, he ceased to be simply a poet and gradually came to
express all that scholar-officials looked for in a life-ideal, a vehicle for their collective yearning. The Tao that emerges in the “matching Tao” poems and in the
paintings is no longer the individual born in the Chaisang District and once active
in the area around the Jiang and Han Rivers. Instead, the new Tao is an ideal: a
gaoshi 高士 (high-minded man) at home among fields and gardens, who achieved
spiritual freedom, natural, pure and unsullied, a freethinking spirit, unhindered by
custom or tradition.
When later scholar-officials faced inevitable real-life difficulties, they could
return to Tao as a pure and nourishing breath of fresh air. One might even say that
Tao offered “a patch of high ground of the spirit” that his successors continuously
cultivated. This image of his spirit contained a basic framework derived from Tao’s
core character, but it possessed sufficient plasticity and indeterminacy that people
could (according to their own understanding and yearnings) interweave all sorts of
appealing variations. Indeed, later generations of scholar-officials kept imparting
their own personal life experiences and thus further contributed to modeling Tao in
the tradition. This patch of high ground never quite broke away from the original
and in fact preserved Tao’s essential elements. But as a result of all the constant
enrichment and tailoring to fit the needs of later generations, the result was less the
original Tao than the Tao people wished for.
By an examination of Tao as cultural symbol, not only can we come to
understand Tao the person more fully, but we also gain an entry point for a deeper
knowledge of Chinese culture, especially scholar-official culture. Thus this essay
seeks to investigate the process by which Tao became a cultural symbol and to delve
into his significance from that standpoint for both Chinese and world cultural
history.
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Tao Yuanming’s Historical Elevation as an Iconic Personality
The value of Tao Yuanming’s writing was insufficiently recognized during his
lifetime and long after his death as well. This situation began to change only when
Xiao Tong 蕭統 (501–531) compiled Tao’s writings and composed a preface to his
collection. Shortly after, in the Northern Qi, Yang Xiuzhi 陽休之 (509–582) compiled a Collected Works of Tao Yuanming (Tao Yuanming ji 陶淵明集) in ten juan,
which suggests that the collected writings of Tao had already been transmitted to
the Northern Dynasties. Yet according to Liu Xie’s 劉勰 (ca. 465–ca. 522) Wenxin
diaolong 文心雕龍 (The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons) and Zhong
Rong’s 鍾嶸 (?–518) Shi pin 詩品 (Evaluation of Poets), Tao’s early literary standing
ranked distinctly below that of Lu Ji 陸機 (261–301), Yan Yanzhi 顏延之 (384–456),
and Xie Lingyun 謝靈運 (385–433).
In the Tang, Tao’s poetic reputation gradually rose; we read Bai Juyi’s 白居易
(772–846) lines, “I’ve always loved Tao Pengze. / How lofty and deep, his writings
and thought” 常愛陶彭澤, 文思何高玄.2 Yet when poets alluded to Tao, his wine
drinking was often emphasized, accompanied by a hint of derision, as when Du Fu
杜甫 (712–770) writes,“Tao Qian was an oldster who shunned common ways. / Yet
it’s not for certain that he attained the Dao” 陶潛避俗翁, 未必能達道.3
By the Song Dynasty, Tao’s standing and influence had expanded: editions of
his writings multiplied, circulation broadened, and his reputation far surpassed
other writers of the Wei and Jin. This can be seen in relation to social, political, and
cultural changes of the time. With Song Confucians emphasizing the cultivation of
individual character, Tao was elevated to his new status as a model character. From
the Song on,“idolizing Tao” became an enduring phenomenon in Chinese cultural
history.
In this process, Su Shi 蘇軾 (1037–1101) played a key role in assiduously
promoting Tao. He writes,“As for other poets, there is none that I really appreciate;
I appreciate the poetry of Tao Yuanming alone. Yuanming did not write many
poems, nevertheless his poems are unadorned yet truly multi-hued, lean yet truly
rich. Cao Zhi 曹植 [192–232], Liu Kun 劉琨 [271–318], Bao Zhao 鮑照 [?–466], Xie
Lingyun 謝靈運, Li Bai 李白 [701–762], and Du Fu 杜甫 [712–770]—none of them
came close.”4 Su Shi’s 109 “matching Tao” poems played an important role in
expanding Tao’s influence. It could be said that Xiao Tong discovered for us an
extraordinary poet, while Su Shi established this poet’s immortal standing.
Su Shi began “matching Tao” poems in the seventh year of the Yuanyou reign
of Emperor Zhezong (1092) when he was fifty-six sui and magistrate of Yangzhou;
these were his “He Tao ‘Yin jiu ershi shou’” 和陶飲酒二十首 (Matching Tao’s
“Drinking Wine, Twenty Poems”).5 The remainder were written around the time of
his banishment to Huizhou and Danzhou. In addition to his “matching Tao” poems,
Su Shi expressed his fondness for Tao in other compositions, such as “Guiqulai ji zi
Yuan • Tao Yuanming
shi shou bing xu” 歸去來集字十首并序 ([Matching] the Words in the “Guiqulai”
Collection, Ten Poems with Preface) and “Wen Yuanming” 問淵明 (Asking
Yuanming). An important example of his “matching Tao” poems reads:
Matching Tao’s “Drinking Wine, Twenty Poems,” no. 3
和陶飲酒二十首, 其三
When the Dao declined, scholars lost their selves,
道喪士失己
2
And the words they produced lacked in feeling.
出語輒不情
The free spirits of the southern lands
江左風流人
4
Sought renown even when drunk.
醉中亦求名
Yuanming alone was pure and true;
淵明獨清真
6
With a chat and a laugh, he found his way to live.
談笑得此生
He was as bamboo bearing a wind:
身如受風竹
8
All other leaves, blown away, are startled.
掩冉衆葉驚
In his ups and downs, he was always poised;
俯仰各有態
10 Coming on wine, his verses wrote themselves
得酒詩自成
[Su Shi shi ji, 1884]
“When the Dao declined, scholars lost their selves” expresses in a deeply meaningful way Su Shi’s concern and sorrow over the scholars’ loss of individual independence.
Su Shi questioned the sincerity of the celebrated (so-called) free spirits of the
Wei and Jin and suggested that some were merely fishing for notoriety and recognition. Tao alone attained “purity and truth” and a genuine free-spirited naturalness. In his “He ‘Guiqulaixi ci,’” Su Shi even claims to be the reincarnation of Tao:
“I take as teacher Yuanming’s elegant sense of freedom, and match his hundred
refreshing poems. In composing a rephrased ‘Leaving for Home!’ there’s no doubt
I’m his reincarnation.”6 Su Shi’s “matching Tao” poems skillfully incorporate profound reflection on human life into a detailed narrative of the quotidian, employing
a discursive style throughout. While retaining Tao’s distinctive character, they also
express Su Shi’s personal style.
Su Shi’s “matching Tao” poems attracted wide attention in his own day. He
was followed by Su Zhe 蘇轍 (1039–1112), as well as the disciples of the Su clan
Chao Buzhi 晁補之 (1053–1110), Zhang Lei 張耒 (1054–1114), and Qin Guan 秦觀
(1049–1110)—all subsequently wrote matching poems and played a critical role in
establishing Tao’s standing.
Later, the influence of Tao on the community of scholar-officials became even
greater. This is how Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200) evaluated him:
Although the personages of the Jin and Song said they praised purity and highmindedness, nevertheless each and every one of them desired an official position:
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engaging in Pure Conversation on the one hand, while on the other pursuing power
and accepting bribes. Yuanming, however, was truly able to reject this, and for this
reason was superior to the men of the Jin and Song.
晉宋間人物, 雖曰尚清高, 然箇箇要官職。 這邊一面清談, 那邊一面招權納貨。 淵明卻真
箇是能不要, 此其所以高於晉宋人也。7
Over the following years there was no lack of “matching Tao” compositions,
including many by Li Gang 李綱 (1083–1140; see Liang xi ji 梁溪集), Wu Fei 吳芾
(1104–1183; see Hu shan ji 湖山集), and, in the Yuan, Liu Yin 劉因 (1249–1293; see
Jingxiu xiansheng wen ji 靜修先生文集). The “matching Tao” poems of the Ming
Dynasty also warrant attention, especially those by Zhou Lüjing 周履靖 (1549–
1640; see Wuliu geng ge 五柳賡歌), Huang Chunyao 黃淳耀 (1605–1645; see Tao an
ji 陶庵集), and Fang Yizhi 方以智 (1611–1671; see Fu shan houji 浮山後集). A
particular affinity to the Tao ideal emerged with the aesthetic culture pursued
and promoted by Ming scholar-officials: reserving their highest esteem for pure and
morally refined character, they placed great importance on personal interests and
lifestyle. Self-expression was cultivated through calligraphy, painting, gardens,
and the domestic arts of furniture, tea ceremony, and flower arrangement. “Matching Tao” was in perfect concert with this focus on the personal life and the arts.
The cultural significance inherent in this “matching Tao” literary activity can
be seen in its intense aspiration to purity and a high-mindedness of character as
well as its resolute defense of integrity with a clear wish to preserve one’s natural
temperament. As so many “matching Tao” poems were composed, the outlines and
importance of Tao as a symbol gradually came into focus even as it was continually
replicated and consolidated in Chinese culture.
In addition to “matching Tao” poems, we also find lü Tao shi 律陶詩 (Tao’s
lines in regulated verse), consisting of selected lines from Tao’s compositions
arranged in regulated five-character line poems. Examples include Huang Huaikai’s
黃槐開 (Ming Dynasty) twenty-seven poems,“Lü Tao zuan” 律陶纂 (Compilation of
Tao’s Lines in Regulated Verse), and Wang Siren’s 王思任 (1576–1646) thirty-five
poems, “Lü Tao shi” 律陶詩 (Tao’s Lines in Regulated Verse).8
Tao and his poetry often appear as source material for paintings as well.
Renowned painters who used Tao or his compositions in their work include Li
Longmian 李龍眠 (1049–1106), Liang Kai 梁楷 (1140–ca. 1210), Qian Xuan 錢選
(1235–1305), Wang Meng 王蒙 (1308–1385), Zhao Mengfu 趙孟頫 (1254–1322),
Wen Zhengming 文徵明 (1470–1559), Dong Qichang 董其昌 (1555–1636), Qiu
Ying 仇英 (1494–1552), Zhang Feng 張風, Chen Hongshou 陳洪綬 (1598–1652),
Wang Hui 王翬 (1632–1717), Shi Tao 石濤 (1642–1707), and Huang Shen 黃慎
(1687–1772).
Yuan • Tao Yuanming
The Song Dynasty Longmian jushi 龍眠居士 (Layman of Longmian), Li
Gonglin 李公麟 (also called Boshi 伯時), seems to have had a personality in some
ways close to Tao’s. According to the Xuanhe hua pu 宣和畫譜 (Xuanhe Reign
Period Registry of Paintings), juan 7, Gonglin “in official position lived in the capital
district for ten years but did not frequent the gates of the powerful noblemen.” And
“when wealthy noblemen who wished to obtain examples of his brushwork sought
contact with him, invariably with great ceremony, Gonglin would not even offer a
reply. But when it came to a celebrated unconventional personage, even if they
had never met before, Gonglin would never tire of seeking them out, and would
spontaneously set brush to paper without the slightest loss of composure.”9 Li Longmian’s “Yuanming guiyin tu” 淵明歸隱圖 (Depiction of Tao Yuanming Returning
Home to Reclusion) expresses both his yen for Tao and his own inclinations.
In the late Song and early Yuan, Qian Xuan’s painting “Chaisang weng xiang”
柴桑翁像 (Portrait of the Old Man of Chaisang) clearly depicts Tao’s head-kerchief,
flowing tassels, high-collared robe, and wide sleeves—the smooth, fluid lines and
complacent bearing vividly bring to life Tao’s free and easy character. His expression is one of cheerful self-contentment, with a servant carrying a jug of wine on his
back close behind. Qian Xuan was one of the Southern Song adherents loyal to the
lost dynasty (yimin 遺民) and in early Yuan times was renowned equally with Zhao
Mengfu. But he was unwilling to take advantage of his relationship with Zhao to
seek office and advantage; in this there is something quite similar to Tao. Indeed,
Qian Xuan inscribes his painting of Tao “as a self-comparison” 自況 revealing the
depth of his identification with Tao.
If we turn to the work of famous calligraphers, we find many who drew on
Tao, including Wen Zhengming’s “Guiqulai xi ci” and Huang Shen’s “grass-style”
“Taohua yuan ji,” a part of his “Taohua yuan shuhua hebi” 桃花源書畫合璧 scroll.
In addition to the poems, calligraphy, and paintings dedicated to Tao, the
phenomenon of “idolizing Tao” found widespread expression as a reflection of
literati temperament and proclivities through artistic seals, studio names, and
personal sobriquets. Ding Jing 丁敬 (1695–1765), the famous seal carver of the
Kangxi period in the Qing Dynasty, selected Tao lines such as this for his seals:
“picking chrysanthemums by the eastern hedge, / In the distance I see the southern
mountains” 采菊東籬下, 悠然見南山. Ma Guozhen 馬國珍, the illustrious painter
and engraver of the Qianlong period, carved an artistic seal with “trees encircle my
house with luxuriant foliage” 繞屋樹扶蘇, from Tao’s poem “Du Shan hai jing” 讀山
海經 (On Reading the Shan hai jing): “In early summer, the many plants in growth, /
trees encircle my house with luxuriant foliage.” The late Qing painter Zhao Zhiqian
趙之謙 (1829–1884) had a seal that reads wei wu dou mi zhe yao 為五斗米折腰
(Bending at the waist for five pecks of rice)—a play on Tao’s “not bending at the
waist for five pecks of rice,” revealing the painter’s predicament of impoverishment
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without recourse. The modern artist Lai Chusheng 來楚生 (1903–1975) used a seal
with xi jiao yi jue you 息交以絕游 (I cut my contacts and cease my wanderings),
borrowing a line from Tao’s “Leaving for Home!” to suggest the painter’s pursuit of
complacency and naturalness. Another renowned modern painter, Wu Changshuo
吳昌碩 (1844–1927), was appointed district magistrate of Andong in Jiangsu, only
to discover that his heart was not in official advancement. He resigned his post after
less than a month and returned home. He then carved a seal: “I quit my office fifty
days earlier than the magistrate of Pengze” 棄官先彭澤令五十日. Such direct
comparison with Tao (whose “Leaving for Home!” states he left office after eighty
days) can be read only as an intimate identification of heart and mind.
There were also many who chose words and phrases from Tao for their studio
or personal name. Wang Ji 王績 (ca. 585–644), well-known poet of the Sui Dynasty,
referred to himself as Wu dou xiansheng 五斗先生 (Mr. Five Dippers) and in
imitation of Tao’s “Biography of Mr. Five Willows,” wrote a “Biography of Mr. Five
Dippers.” Yu Dan 俞澹, a literatus of the middle period of the Northern Song, called
his studio Jing Tao zhai 景陶齋 (Admiring Tao Studio). Yu Dan often appears in the
informal writings of Song Dynasty literati and figures in literary exchanges with
Wang Anshi 王安石 (1021–1086), Su Shi, and Huang Tingjian 黃庭堅 (1045–1105).
He had the distinct air of a celebrated yet unconventional gentleman: “Yu Xiulao of
Jinhua is a person unconfined by the material world. He once wrote ‘Lyrics Singing
of the Dao’ in ten stanzas, which inexorably related that all matters of the world are
no more than floating clouds: how detestable to burn up your talents in the
mundane world.”10 With so unfettered and unconventional an attitude, it is no
wonder that he chose “Admiring Tao” for his studio name.
There was also the esteemed poetess Li Qingzhao 李清照 (1084–1151), whose
life bridged the Northern and Southern Song, with her studio called Guilai tang
歸來堂 (Returning Home Hall) where she lived with her husband Zhao Mingcheng
趙明誠 (1081–1129) before crossing to the South. Qingzhao’s sobriquet was Yi’an
jushi 易安居士 (The Easy-to-Feel-Tranquil Layperson). Both were borrowed from
“Leaving for Home!” with its lines: “Leaning out the southern window, I let forth my
pride; / See how easy to feel tranquil in just a little space.” With clear inclination
toward Tao’s complacency and naturalness, Li Qingzhao demonstrates her sympathy with the “idolizing Tao” fashion.
At the end of the Qing, the poet Zha Shanhe 查善和 relinquished the idea of
advancement in office to return to his love of poetry and literary composition. He
named his studio Dong xuan 東軒 (Eastern Veranda), from the lines in Tao’s
“Drinking Wine, No. 7”: “Feeling free of cares by the eastern veranda, for now I’ve
found my life again.” Also in the late Qing, when the renowned poet and government official Huang Zunxian 黃遵憲 (1848–1905) was dismissed from office and
returned to his hometown after the defeat of the 1898 Reform Movement, he called
Yuan • Tao Yuanming
his home Ren jing lu 人境廬 (A Hut in the Realm of Men), drawing on Tao’s “I build
my hut in the realm of men, / Yet there is no clamor of carts and horses.” He called
himself Master of the Hut in the Realm of Men, indicating his intention to not
disturb his heart by seeking gain and emolument but rather to focus all his efforts
on his studies and seeking the Way.
We turn to Zhou Chun 周春 (1729–1815), an eminent scholar and book
collector of the Qianlong and Jiaqing periods of the Qing Dynasty. When he learned
that Zhang Yanchang 張燕昌 had in his collection a Song woodblock edition of
Tao Jingjie xiansheng shi zhu 陶靖節先生詩注, Zhou offered his entire collection of
calligraphy and paintings from his collection, as well as his Duanxi ink stones, in
exchange for the Tao manuscript. When this was refused, he made the discovery
through multiple sources that Zhang loved old ink sticks. He selected a famous
Ming Dynasty ink stick, Meng bi sheng hua 夢筆生花 (Flowers Blooming from a
Dream Brush) and again offered an exchange, at which point Zhang agreed.
Now in possession of this Song woodblock edition, Zhou was “overcome with
mad happiness” (bu sheng kuang xi 不勝狂喜) and, placing it with another Song
edition that he owned on li 禮 (ritual), he named his studio Li Tao zhai 禮陶齋
(Paying Courtesy to Tao). He determined never to sell this collection of Tao’s
writings and even to be buried with it. However, owing to circumstances, he later
found himself constrained to sell the book on ritual and so changed his studio’s
name to Bao Tao zhai 寶陶齋 (Treasuring Tao Studio) to show that above all he
treasured the collection of Tao’s writings. Nevertheless, in the end, the collection of
Tao’s works that Zhou regarded as such precious treasure was purchased away
through a ruse by the businessman Wu Dongbai 吳東白, and Zhou finally changed
the studio name to Meng Tao zhai 夢陶齋 (Dreaming of Tao Studio), to express
Tao’s continued presence, day and night. This same Tao Jingjie xiansheng shi zhu
was later repurchased at a high price by the late Qing book collector Huang Pilie
黃丕烈 (1763–1825). Since Huang already owned another Song edition of Tao
Yuanming’s Collected Works (Tao Yuanming ji), he named his studio the Tao Tao
shi 陶陶室 (Tao Tao Studio), expressing the wonderful good fortune of having
brought together two precious editions of Tao’s works.
That Zhou Chun and Huang Pilie treasured these editions of Tao’s works no
doubt had to do with the fact that Song woodblock editions commanded a high
price on their own, yet one must also factor in their admiration for Tao the person.
Speculating on Mr. Huang’s reason for choosing the name “Tao Tao Studio,” his
contemporary Wang Qisun 王芑孫 wrote, “Recently, that he has expressed his
inclinations through ‘Tao Tao,’ is not simply a matter of being happy on account of
having more than one Song edition. Most likely Raopu (i.e., Huang Pilie), in not
taking up a position as district magistrate when offered, was roughly similar to
Master Tao; to put one’s efforts into tilling or collating is also roughly analogous
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and this is why he saw himself in him.”11 Perhaps he has captured Huang’s deep
sentiments.
It is also worth mentioning the many traces of Tao that persist in vocabulary
nuances of the Chinese language. For instance, wu liu 五柳 (five willows) evokes the
social status of a scholar in reclusion; tao yuan 桃源 (peach-tree fountainhead)
brings to mind the yearning for a life both simple and unencumbered; dong li 東籬
(eastern hedge) a free and easy life in fields and gardens. They’ve become longstanding familiar allusions and idiomatic expressions: one says “five willows,” but
not “six willows”; only “peach-tree fountainhead,” not “plum garden”; “eastern
hedge” rather than “western hedge.” Countless others— dong gao 東皋 (eastern hill),
nan mu 南畝 (southern acres), dai yue 戴月 (carrying the moon), nan chuang 南窗
(southern window), Wuling 武陵, and so forth—color our language today, replete
with the symbolic richness of Tao Yuanming’s writings.
Tao Yuanming’s Idealized Character Traits and Their Cultural Appeal
A question worth asking at this point might be: How was it that Tao Yuanming
came to have such vast and profound influence on Chinese cultural history, to the
point that “idolizing Tao” became a singular cultural phenomenon? The answer
begins with certain distinguishing features and ideals of Chinese culture seen as
combined and embodied in the person of Tao. For the community of scholarofficials, Tao seemed to match perfectly a collective aspiration for particular idealized character traits.
Returning Home and Nourishing Genuineness
More than a poet, Tao was primarily a philosopher concerned with the conceptual
realm of “returning home, nourishing genuineness” (hui gui yang zhen 回歸養真).
That he could realize a carefree and detached state was due to his profound ideas,
based on returning home and nourishing genuineness, and on achieving ziran 自然
(naturalness). “Genuineness” falls within the traditional scope of Lao-Zhuang philosophy, denoting the inborn genuine state attained after ridding oneself entirely of
pretense and affectation. “Returning home” functions here as the path to attaining
this state—it is not seeking outwardly to increase certain moral qualities, but ceaselessly, inwardly purging the noninnate, wei wo 偽我 (unauthentic self ) acquired
through the corrupting influences of the world, and in the end to return home to
one’s zhen wo 真我 (genuine self ).
Whether conceived as “returning home” or as “nourishing genuineness,”
“naturalness” is the ultimate destination. It must be pointed out that the “naturalness” sought by Tao has little to do with the objective, material world of nature
but refers instead to a state of being at ease with oneself and the world, as in the
Yuan • Tao Yuanming
lines, “My inner disposition is what it is naturally, and not derived from effort or
discipline” 質性自然非矯厲所得, in the “Preface to ‘Leaving for Home!.’”
Scholar-officials, trying simultaneously to realize personal life values and
fulfill a societal ideal, invariably found themselves thrown into a sea of official life to
float or sink with the world. Their inborn nature could not avoid change and
contamination, giving rise to the widespread conundrum for scholar-officials: how
to break free of the mundane world’s fetters and return home to one’s own original
nature. This yearning became especially acute on encountering setbacks in the real
world, and it gave rise to “returning home” as an important motif in Chinese literary
history.
In the writings of numerous scholars before Tao, “returning home” already
expressed a type of yearning, yet the whereabouts of the road home remained a
matter of confusion. Qu Yuan 屈原 (ca. 340 BCE–ca. 278 BCE) had wished to
“follow the trail to where Peng Xian resides” and ultimately chose to drown himself
in the Miluo River. Liu Xin 劉歆 (46 BCE–23 CE) set his determination “to be
forever tranquilly complacent, to be joyous and happy” 長恬淡以懽娛 in his “Sui
chu fu” 遂初賦 (Fu on Obtaining My First Emolument), but not long after, he was
drawn instead into the political vortex of Wang Mang’s usurpation of the Han
Dynasty.12
By the end of the Han and into the Wei, with the further deterioration of the
political climate, the gui tu 歸途 (path home) for scholars was even more difficult to
find. Suffering personal and professional hardship, they felt the road forward was
cut off and were filled with despair; losing track of the ancient path, they had
nothing to serve as refuge. The Jin shu 晉書 (History of the Jin) relates that Ruan Ji
阮籍 (210–263) “at times would let loose and spontaneously drive off alone without
following any path or roadway, to where all wheel-tracks had ended. After a while,
he would return weeping bitterly.”13 He writes in a poem,“The yellow swan wanders
the four seas; / Mid-route how can he head home?” 黃鵠游四海, 中路將安歸.14 We
find this expressive of a deep and widespread sentiment. In contrast, very few works
such as Zhang Heng’s 張衡 (78–139) “Gui tian fu” 歸田賦 (Fu on Returning to the
Fields) provided a way out. But the ideal of Zhang Heng’s “returning to the fields”
still follows the Confucian determination to “establish words” (li yan 立言), as seen
in the lines “I wield brush and ink to bring forth fine writings, / And unfold the
models of the ancient sages” 揮翰墨以奮藻, 陳三皇之軌模.15 After passing through
the “baptism” of the Wei and Jin’s abstruse philosophical reasoning, scholars were
seeking greater freedom and transcendence. It was then that the idea of “returning
home, nourishing genuineness”—repeatedly promoted in Tao’s poetry and
enhanced by his personal example of contentment in renunciation and poverty—
developed into a wave of fresh air strong enough to sweep away the despair and loss
caged in the prevailing mood of the Wei-Jin period. Consider Tao’s lines:
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With genuineness in mind, in my heart from the start,
18 Who could say I am fettered by my body’s doings?
Now I go along with life’s vicissitudes;
20 In the end I’ll return to Master Ban’s hut.
真想初在襟
誰謂形迹拘
聊且憑化遷
終返班生廬16
And:
14
16
Garden and fields—daily in my dreams, in my mind,
園田日夢想
How can we be separated for so long?
安得久離析
Always in my heart is the boat for home—
終懷在歸舟
True it is, that the cypress is best fit for frost.
諒哉宜霜柏17
In Tao’s poems, his “path home” appears, distinct and determined:
Picking chrysanthemums by the eastern hedge,
採菊東籬下
6
In the distance I see the southern mountains.
悠然見南山
The mountain air is excellent at sundown, and
山氣日夕嘉
8
Birds in flight head home all together.
飛鳥相與還18
The mood of Tao’s life in the gardens and fields is so relaxed and pleasing that the
home to which he has returned is clearly something beyond a peaceful, rural residence. He has attained a transcendent, free and easy, unaffected and pure state—a
genuine return home to a life as it was originally meant to be.
Tao’s poetry offered scholar-officials an invaluable alternative to their worldly
pursuits, to wit, a life of “returning home and nourishing genuineness.” Just as with
the portrayal of the “Peach Blossom Fountainhead,” while one may not actually live
out one’s days in that manner, still for a brief respite—no matter if just a moment of
peace and tranquility—the idea of a life free of worry was imbued with yearning and
allure. Through his poetic works and the actual circumstances of his personal life,
Tao Yuanming had created a pure and tranquil world that would resonate with the
community of scholar-officials.
From a wide range of individual experience, a number of high officials used
the practice of “matching Tao” to express their admiration. Those who faced great
vicissitudes in life only more eagerly sought in Tao Yuanming their spiritual home.
We recall men like Su Shi, Wang Anshi, and Chao Buzhi, and how they turned to
Tao Yuanming after political frustration.19
Chao Buzhi, for example, left office because of factional struggles and
returned to his home town to live in leisure. At this juncture, having stumbled in his
official career, he deeply sensed that for him Confucius’s “Way of the sage,” Buddhism’s teachings about “being beyond life and death,” and the “clear words” of
Yuan • Tao Yuanming
Daoism, “not one could be counted on” (wu yi ke shu 無一可數). He concluded,
“Reading Tao Qian’s ‘Leaving for Home!’ I felt that I was no match and wished to
take him as my teacher; I bought some land and called myself ‘The Man Who
Returns Home.’ My cottage residence was at an elevation with a view, a place for a
restful stay, with one door and one window, all according to my wish to give the idea
of ‘leaving for home.’”20
Not only did Chao give himself the nickname Guilaizi 歸來子 (The Man Who
Returns Home), he chose names for each of the buildings at his residence from lines
in “Leaving for Home!” His Song ju tang 松菊堂 (Pine and Chrysanthemum Hall)
derives from “Pine and chrysanthemum are ever intact”; Shu xiao xuan 舒嘯軒
(Whistling Long Pavilion) from “I climb the eastern hill to whistle long.” Lin fu ting
臨賦亭 (Approaching to Recite Gazebo) can be seen in “Approaching the clearflowing stream, I recite a poem.” His belvedere was called Xia guan 遐觀 (Distant
Gazing), and his mid-corridor room Liu qi 流憩 (Roaming and Resting), both taken
from the lines “Walking staff in hand, I roam and rest; / At times I lift my head and
gaze out far.” Cottages were named Ji ao 寄傲 (Expressing Pride) and Juan fei 倦飛
(Wearied of Flying) to convey the feeling in “I lean out the southern window and
express my pridefulness” and “Birds weary of flying know when to come home.”
Chao essentially fashioned his own Tao Yuanming world out of the structures of his
residence, an imaginative example of the impact that Tao had on the many scholarofficials who were thwarted in government service.
Personal Fortitude, as Well as
Later Views of His Not Serving Two Dynastic Houses
Tao also exemplified the spirit of personal fortitude as seen in an pin 安貧 (contentment with poverty) and shou zhuo 守拙 (upholding [seeming] ineptitude). His
seven poem series “Yong pin shi” 詠貧士 (In Praise of Impoverished Gentlemen)
features his own spiritual pillars, the impoverished gentlemen of old: Rong Qiqi 榮
啟期, Qin Lou 黔婁, Yuan An 袁安, Zhang Zhongwei 張仲蔚, and others. He writes,
“Living in retirement is not like the distress Confucius suffered in Chen, / Yet
privately there may be words of resentment. / With what do I soothe my feelings? / I
rely on these many worthies of antiquity” 閒居非陳厄, 竊有慍見言。 何以慰吾懷, 賴
古多此賢 (no. 2). And, “Who says that ‘firmness in adversity’ is difficult? / In the
distance are these worthy models” 誰云固窮難, 邈哉此前修 (no. 7).21
Being content with poverty and remaining firm in adversity find expression in
the conceptual traditions of both Confucianism and Daoism. According to Confucius, “the Gentleman remains firm in adversity” (junzi gu qiong 君子固窮).22
When the king of Chu called Zhuangzi 莊子 to come out of reclusion, he answered,
“I’d rather drag my tail in the mud.”23 “Being content with poverty and finding joyousness in the Dao” and “the Gentleman remaining firm in adversity” soon
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became the pervasive personal ideal in Chinese scholar-official culture. Some of
the impoverished gentlemen Tao celebrates in his poems—Yuan Xian 原憲 and
Yuan An 袁安—might be considered Confucians, while Rong Qiqi, Qin Lou, and
others might be classified as Daoists. Tao Yuanming invokes them all equally in
exhortations to himself. Facing straitened economic circumstances, they are unmoved:
“How could they spurn the light furs the officialdom? / They had no respect for
getting them without honor” 豈忘襲輕裘, 苟得非所欽 (“In Praise of Impoverished
Gentlemen,” no. 3).24
Rejection of dishonorably gained wealth and a greater concern about the Way
than about poverty combined in Tao and constituted the integrity and personal
fortitude that led to his position at the deepest level of Chinese culture as one of
its most enduring representatives. Bai Juyi’s “Fang Tao gong jiu zhai” 訪陶公舊宅
(Paying a Visit to Master Tao’s Former Residence) captures this well: “I don’t so
much admire that his cup had wine, / I don’t so much admire that his qin was without
strings. / I admire that this gentleman left behind fame and fortune, / To end his days
in this hilltop garden” 不慕樽有酒, 不慕琴無弦。 慕君遺容利, 老死此丘園.25
The renowned Neo-Confucian Liu Yin of the Yuan Dynasty also chose a
modest life: without ambition to advance as an official, he chose the work of teaching
instead. Many of his seventy-six “matching Tao” poems allude to his poverty and
life in reclusion, including “Matching ‘Drinking Wine’”: “My entire life I’ve managed my impoverished way, / Yet to be dispirited would bring no benefit. / I sing out
long to rouse myself, / And it’s easy to live this straitened existence” 平生禦窮氣, 沮
喪恐無餘。 長歌以自振, 貧賤固易居.26
Closely related to “being content with poverty” is an attitude of principled
disengagement roughly translated “upholding [seeming] ineptness” (shou zhuo 守
拙). With his family background and education, Tao Yuanming was well poised for
high official position and material rewards. When he decided he would no longer
“bend at the waist,” he in effect chose a life of poverty. To prefer zhuo 拙 (ineptitude)
is to reject and deprecate shrewdness, slickness, and guile for an appearance of
ignorance and ineptitude in order to affirm one’s own pursuits and moral fortitude.
The Qing scholar Wu Yulun 吳玉綸 (1732–1802) writes in his “An zhuo wo ji” 安拙
窩記 (Record from the Nest of Finding Contentment in Ineptitude),“Scholars of old
prized being of utility, and did not prize not being of utility. Not being of utility is
being inept. Being of utility is being guileful. Later generations daily inclined to
guilefulness, and the harm they caused became increasingly grave. Therefore I do
not prize guilefulness; I prize ineptitude.”27 This passage is a clear exposition of
what is meant culturally by “upholding ineptitude.”
If “returning home, nourishing genuineness” suggests the rou 柔 (soft) side of
Tao Yuanming’s personality,“being content with poverty and upholding ineptitude”
indicates his gang 剛 (hard) side. He said of himself in “Yu zi Yan deng shu” 與子儼
Yuan • Tao Yuanming
等疏 (Written to My Sons Yan and the Others), “My nature is to be unyielding, my
talent is to be inept; In many things I am intractable” 性剛才拙, 與物多忤.28 Putting
together zhuo 拙 (ineptitude) and gang 剛 (being unyielding), we can see that in his
ineptitude was unyieldingness. Thus,“unwilling to bend at the waist for five pecks of
rice,” he served as county magistrate in Pengzi xian just eighty days before resigning
the post and returning to his fields, his late years beleaguered by hunger and cold.
Tan Daoji 檀道濟 (d. 436), provincial governor of Jiangling, went to pay his respects,
presented him with fine viands and urged him to abandon his reclusive life, but Tao
“waved him off and sent him away” (hui er qu zhi 麾而去之).29 In his “ineptitude”
and “unyieldingness,” Tao presents a character both estimable and endearing. A
poem by the Yuan Dynasty literatus Zhu Shilao 朱釋老 finely captures this: “Of one
who would travel the million miles of worldly accomplishment, I would ask: / How
could that compare with Yuanming of Jin times upholding ineptness?” 試問封侯萬
里客, 何如守拙晉淵明?.30 Another from the Ming Dynasty scholar Kang Siqian 亢思
謙 reads,“Plenitude and emptiness ebb and flow, following one to the other, / How
could competition and guile compare with the will to embrace ineptitude? / I hold
dear Yuanming, who would not turn on his resolve, / Living peacefully in his thatched
hut, his clothes full of patches. / Morning and evening he but sought to share his
chaste heart, / For a hundred generations a pure current, we admire his lofty and
unsullied character” 盈虚消息自相循, 竞巧何如甘抱拙。 我愛淵明志不回, 偃仰茅簷
衣百結。 晨夕惟求共素心, 百世清風仰高潔.31 Tao’s determined “ineptitude” clearly
compelled the admiration of scholar-officials and inspired endless imitations and
praise.
After the Song Dynasty, the aspect of Tao’s spirit that received even greater
attention appears to be his resistance to the Jin-Song dynastic transition. Setting
aside for the moment whether he really was “ashamed to serve under two different
ruling clans” (chi shi er xing 耻事二姓), what can be established is that this is an
extremely important aspect of Tao as cultural symbol.
Confucian culture stresses loyalty and integrity. This emphasis increased after
the Song, when “serving under two dynasties” (er chen 貳臣) was usually condemned by the ranks of scholar-officials. Scholars who found themselves at the
juncture of dynastic change turned to Tao Yuanming’s integrity for inspiration
and guidance. For example, Wen Tianxiang 文天祥 (1236–1283), a general in the
Southern Song unwilling to serve the Jin, writes in his poem “Hai shang” 海上 (On
the Sea): “Wang Ji 王濟 was not a crazy stalwart; / How was Tao Qian a drunken
man? / Obtaining an office, one must repay one’s country; / To be in reclusion is
the same as escaping the Qin” 王濟非癡叔, 陶潛豈醉人。 得官需報國, 可隱即逃秦.32
The yimin 遺民 (Yuan Dynasty adherents) Dai Liang 戴良 and Huang Chunyao 黃淳
耀, and Ming loyalists Fang Yizhi 方以智 and others, composed “matching-Tao”
poems to express themselves as adherents to their lost dynasties. Ming loyalist
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artists Zhang Feng 張風, Chen Hongshou 陳洪綬, Shi Tao 石濤, and Dai Benxiao
戴本孝 in the same vein depicted Tao in their paintings.33 Following the loss of
the Ming, Zhang Dai 張岱 (1597–1689) relinquished official service and went into
reclusion in the mountains. Even weak and ill with age, pounding rice and carrying
dung, his will remained unaltered and his identification with Tao strong, calling
himself Tao’an 陶庵 (Tao’s Retreat).
Though there is little solid evidence to substantiate the claim that Tao
Yuanming was “ashamed to serve under two different ruling clans,” scholars since
the Song have nonetheless enthusiastically advocated it. Undoubtedly related to his
spirit of personal fortitude in “being content with poverty and upholding ineptitude,” history seems to have extended his integrity to include political loyalty as
well. This has only enhanced Tao’s stature as cultural symbol.
Drinking Wine and Freethinking in Spirit
Another way Tao has endeared himself to scholars comes from his enjoyment of
wine in combination with a freethinking spirit. This of course provides us with
many delicious stories, such as his straining wine through his head cloth, drinking
quite thoroughly any wine he might come upon, being carried in a basket to a
drinking party, and keeping a stringless qin (zither). However “inept,” Tao never
lacked appeal. Seen as representing the Wei-Jin current of free spiritedness, stories
about him were quite popular. Witness Li Bai’s “Xi Zeng Zheng Liyang” 戲贈鄭溧陽
(Presented to Zheng Liyang in Jest): “Magistrate Tao, drunk day in day out, /
Unaware of spring at his Five Willows? / His unadorned qin never had strings, / To
strain wine he used his hempen head cloth. / In the cool breeze below the northern
window, / He saw himself as from Fuxi’s era. /When will you come to Li hamlet?/
You’ll fall in love at first sight” 陶令日日醉, 不知五柳春。 素琴本無弦, 漉酒用葛巾。
清風北窗下, 自謂羲皇人。 何時到栗里, 一見平生親.34 And from Du Fu, “Ke xi” 可惜
(Something to Cherish): “What relaxes the heart must be wine, / To chase away
cares nothing beats poetry. / This idea, Tao Qian understood, / Yet I am born after
your time” 寬心應是酒, 遣興莫過詩。 此意陶潛解, 吾生後汝期.35 Bai Juyi wrote in his
“Xiao Tao Qian ti shi shiliu shou” 效陶潛體詩十六首 (In Imitation of the Tao Qian
Style, Sixteen Poems): “The Master has long been gone, / Yet his ink on paper
remains in writing. / Each piece exhorts me to drink; / Beyond this, there’s not
much to say. / Since becoming old and mature, / I exalt how he conducted himself. /
To the rest I can’t compare,/ And can but imitate his muddled drunkenness” 先生去
已久, 紙墨有遺文。 篇篇勸我飲, 此外無所云。 我從老大來, 竊慕其為人。 其他不可及, 且
傚醉昏昏.36 The list, including Ouyang Xiu’s 歐陽修 (1007–1072) “Xi shu bai
Cheng xueshi Sanzhang” 戲書拜呈學士三丈 (Writing in Jest, I Salute Academician
Cheng Sanzhang) and “Ou shu” 偶書 (Chance Composition), is long, full of appreciations of Tao’s wine drinking and freethinking spirit.
Yuan • Tao Yuanming
For those scholars who remained in official positions, the image of Tao satisfied their fancy for an unconventional yet celebrated gentleman, and by composing their own “extolling Tao” (yong Tao) and “matching Tao” (he Tao) poems,
they fulfilled a kind of self-projection. This group of renowned scholar-officials
includes Li Gang and Wu Fu from the Song; the Jin Dynasty imperial secretary in
the ministry of rites, Zhao Bingwen 趙秉文 (1159–1232); He Jing 郝經 (1223–1275)
of the Yuan Dynasty; and Qi Shaonan 齊召南 (1703–1768) of the Qing. Though
living in very different times, they all returned to Yuanming as a model of the
unconventional gentleman who has found his way home. We read in Li Gang’s “Ci
yun he ‘Guiqulai ji’ zi shi shou” 次韻和歸去來集字十首 (Matching the Words in the
‘Guiqulai’ Collection, Ten Poems Following the Order of the Rhymes): “Living in
the world is like a great dream, / While alive, I am moved as life passes to its end. /
What need to be tied by official’s chariot and cap? / Why still deny the forests and
hills? / . . . I’ll forget all designs and be one with all things, / With you, fish and birds,
together we’ll roam” 處世若大夢, 吾生感行休。 何須縛軒冕, 且復傲林丘 …… 忘機齊
物我, 魚鳥與君遊.37
Summarizing the above, the reasons behind Tao’s becoming a symbol of
Chinese culture are extremely complex. Unique characteristics of his philosophy
and conduct coincided with enduring spiritual aspirations of the scholar-official
community living in their own social and political realities. Tao as symbol and
model seemed to satisfy specific longings in the face of life challenges and at the
same time offered an effective balm for their dejection. Huigui 回歸 (returning
home), especially in his “Gui yuan tian ju” 歸園田居 (Returning to Dwell in the
Gardens and Fields) and “Guiqulai xi ci” (Leaving for Home!), was the most
common motif in matching Tao. But “matching” poems also make use of the
themes of drinking, contentment in poverty, and “upholding ineptitude.” Paintings
inspired by Tao similarly mostly focused on his “Leaving for Home!” and “Record of
the Peach Blossom Fountainhead” as well as on his drinking. But in fact, the choice
between service and remaining at home was one that Tao considered many times
throughout his life; even after he had established his retreat, he continued to feel
“poverty and wealth always battling each other” 貧富常交戰. The great majority of
scholars who “matched” or “painted Tao” seem to deliberately overlook this point,
suggesting a divide between Tao the cultural symbol and his own core character.
Scholars admired Tao in order to free themselves from the predicaments
their own world created in their hearts and spirit. Because they were hoping
through him to find release or escape, they were blind to Tao’s own personal
perplexities. This is not difficult to understand, and we can see in this process of
selectivity Tao’s transformation from an actual historical person into a cultural
symbol.
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Individuals as Paradigmatic Cultural Symbols
Fuhao 符號 (symbols) are common in the life of any society. Whether in ancient
cultures or in today’s complex, constantly changing world, wenhua fuhao 文化符號
(cultural symbols) have always been produced in large numbers. They appear in
myth, legend, shamanic practice, religion, literature, and art, and in material products
as well. Not infrequently, historical figures emerge as symbols, their diverse cultural characteristics demonstrating the diversity of human civilization. Such figures solidify specific cultural attitudes through repeated remolding, crystallizing
the spirit and aspiration of unique historical moments. Over time, their influence
sometimes spreads far beyond their place of origin to reach the entirety of mankind. In the process, their symbolic, representative, and idealized nature is further
established. Below, we will consider other individuals who, like Tao, came to have
this type of symbolic significance.
When these cultural symbols embody a sufficient abundance of cultural
content and value, they become paradigms. In the process of its evolution, mankind
has created splendid material and spiritual civilizations, and yet, faced with a
universe and a society full of unpredictability, has often sensed its own frailty and
insignificance. Hence, in the search for basic values and in order to break free of
various material and societal constraints, the question of how to bring about true
individual ziyou 自由 (freedom) becomes a recurrent theme. Some people happen
to live in a time of major historical crisis; confronted with the choice of holding fast
or escaping, sinking, or transcending, they ultimately escape from the disturbances
caused by material desires, achieve freedom of the spirit, and manage to preserve an
independent character. They do not hesitate to abandon fame, position, wealth, or
even life—all for the purpose of realizing a personal ideal. The tremendous contrast
between the ideal and the real enriched for these people the world of their innermost being and gave their deeds and their writing the power to astonish, being rich
with controversy. This has attracted generation after generation to examine,
question, reflect, and interpret. Besides their distinct individuality, these figures all
had both a classical and a representative nature in their character, which enabled
them to become a kind of cultural symbol.
Such cultural heroes not only played an important role as individuals but also
reflected a certain concept collectively held by a larger group: for this reason, they
have had an extensive and enduring influence on cultural history. The various
perplexities and predicaments faced by mankind—whether vis-à-vis the universe or
society, or of a more personal nature—have proven persistent and difficult to
resolve fundamentally. So even though these historical figures had already spent
their lives putting into practice their loftiest ideals, nonetheless the crises and
decisions they faced would continue unremittingly to perplex later generations in
different ways. At that point, these historical figures, as well as their conduct and
Yuan • Tao Yuanming
writing, might become the particular object of study, imitation, and identification,
giving later thinkers something to draw on for spiritual strength. It was this timeless
appeal that made these figures the cultural symbols they have become.
In the history of dissemination and reception of these personages, later
people, working from their own understanding, often would go a step further to
intensify particular classical characteristics of these figures, while overlooking
essential elements of their personality that did not match their classical significance. Ultimately, this would refashion an individual from a real, unique historical
person into an idealized cultural symbol. The individual traits that prompted the
admiration of later people would further intensify, while limitations they had no
way of overcoming in their own ren 人 (person) would gradually fade from memory.
For this reason, we might well see this type of cultural symbol as an object of belief.
Over China’s long history, we find many such cultural symbols, including, for
example, the poet Qu Yuan of Chu from the Warring States period. In a time of
great crisis, his country facing destruction and the people in extreme distress, Qu
Yuan despaired of his benighted ruler surrounded with wicked and base advisors.
Resentful and frustrated in his desire to be loyal and aid the people, and after much
soul searching and deliberation, he chose to express his resistance by drowning
himself. His life was thereby transformed, merging in immortal memory with his
poetry to form a powerful legacy in literary history. Later imitations and treatments
include Song Yu’s 宋玉 “Jiu bian” 九辯 (Nine Disputations), Dongfang Shuo’s 東方
朔 “Qi jian” 七諫 (Seven Remonstrations), Yan Ji’s 嚴忌 (or Zhuang Ji 莊忌) “Ai shi
ming” 哀時命 (Lamenting the Destiny of the Seasons), Wang Bao’s 王褒 “Jiu huai” 九
懷 (Nine Ruminations), Liu Xiang’s 劉向 “Jiu tan” 九嘆 (Nine Sighs), and Wang Yi’s
王逸 “Jiu si” 九思 (Nine Reflections). Each sought to re-create the course of Qu
Yuan’s thoughts and emotions and through poetic imitation to honor and mourn
his ultimate fate. Though very early (Western Han) critics suggested that “in
exhibiting his talent and promoting himself, he displayed the failings of his ruler” 露
才揚己, 顯君之惡,38 from the middle of the Eastern Han, Qu Yuan’s lofty and pure
conduct was widely venerated: “Apprehending the times, he stood alone, / Upright,
he could not be swayed” 蘇世獨立, 橫而不流.39 Wang Yi echoes this sentiment in his
commentary on “Li sao jing” 離騷經 (Encountering Sorrow Tome): “Of all of the
hundreds of estimable men, none do not venerate his pure and soaring attitude,
prize his literary talent, lament his misfortune, and in this feel compassion for his
resolve.”40 And later, in the Wenxin diaolong, Liu Xie describes Qu Yuan’s “Li sao”
(Encountering Sorrow) as “substance like gold, form like jade; / beauty overflows
even the slightest word” 金相玉式艷溢錙毫.41 Li Bai writes,“Master Qu’s verses and
poetic expositions shine down equal to the sun and moon” 屈平詞賦懸日月, and
Liang Kai of the Song painted Ze pan xing yin tu 澤畔行吟圖 (Depiction of Walking
and Intoning by the Riverside), which recalls Qu Yuan. In admiration of Qu Yuan’s
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integrity, through continuous commentary and painting, then, Qu Yuan became a
cultural symbol.
We can only gesture toward the long list of such symbols in China’s rich
cultural history—there is Li Bai, wild and unbridled in both talent and emotion; Su
Shi, centered and calm, unmoved by favor or disgrace; Guan Yu 關羽 (d. 219), model
of loyalty; Zhuge Liang 諸葛亮 (181–234), model of intelligence; and Bao Zheng 包
拯 (999–1062), model of fairness and honesty, and so on. Each with his distinctive
characteristics symbolically manifests a particular aspect of Chinese culture, and
collectively, they embody its diversity. Continued exploration of these symbols will
assist us in understanding the diverse traits of Chinese culture.
Concluding Remarks
The process by which Tao Yuanming became a cultural symbol was gradual, closely
linked to the particular circumstances of each period and to the prevailing scholarofficial culture. Song Dynasty scholar-officials especially sought to cultivate individual moral personality; whether in office or as a scholar who remained at home,
the first goal was to put one’s heart and spirit at peace. Tao would not bow at the
waist for five pecks of rice, and he returned home to a reclusive life among fields and
gardens, lofty in his acts and ideals, entrusting his feelings to zither and wine. Loyal
to Jin rule (overstressed by some) and unwilling to serve two different dynastic
clans, he naturally became for Song admirers a spiritual ideal. Ming Dynasty
scholar-officials, on the other hand, while they esteemed his purity and highmindedness, chose to emphasize the way he expressed his individuality and personal interests in his lifestyle. Accordingly, their “matching Tao” poems and pictorial depictions of Tao reflected their own aesthetic tendency.
Esteem for Tao as a cultural symbol was focused on “returning home,
nourishing genuineness,” “being content with poverty and upholding ineptitude,”
“drinking wine and being freethinking in spirit,” as well as “being ashamed to serve
two different dynastic clans.” Alternatively, one might sum up these characteristics
as having a pure and lofty attitude, being genuine and honest, valuing freedom, and
placing importance on integrity. Representing the human wish for a return to
naturalness, as well as the quest for natural beauty, the exemplary Tao is a highminded man who frees himself from worldly fetters. As we have already seen, the
real Tao was not this simple, but as a cultural symbol he had been filtered through
interpretation and continuously shaped by the tastes and ideals of later men into a
symbolic or figurative personage. One could even speak of “two Tao Yuanmings”:
the Tao who really lived in the Jin-Song period and an iconic figure continuously
refashioned by successive eras of scholar-officials. In researching Tao, I not only
wish to recover the true Tao but also the Tao who became a cultural symbol. In
Yuan • Tao Yuanming
many ways, the latter might yield greater access to a deeper understanding of
Chinese culture.
As a cultural symbol, Tao has an international as well as a contemporary
scope. A record of Tao Qian ji (Collected Works of Tao Qian) in ten juan appears in
the ninth-century Nihonkoku genzaisho mokuroku 日本國見在書目錄 (A Catalog of
[Chinese] Books Presently Existing in the Land of Japan) compiled by the Japanese
scholar Fujiwara no Sukeyo 藤原佐世 (847–898).42 This shows that Tao’s collected
works had already reached Japan by that time. To the present day, he continues to
be warmly appreciated in Japan, as evidenced by the many translations as well as
research publications.43
At the end of the Silla Dynasty, Choe Chiwon 崔致遠 (857–ca. 951) was
perhaps the earliest to take an interest in Tao in Korea. Around the middle of the
Koryŏ Dynasty, Yi Inro 李仁老 (1152–1220) composed his “Hwa Do sa” 和陶辭
(Verses Matching Tao), the first “matching Tao” poem in the history of Korean
literature. By the time of Yi Toegye 李退溪 (1501–1570) , idolizing Tao and composing in the manner of Tao had become a common practice.44 Especially noteworthy is that Grand Prince Anp’yŏng 安平大君 (also romanized as Anpyeong) Yi
Yong 李瑢 (1418–1453), third son of Sejon the Great King 世宗大王 of the Yi
dynastic clan (i.e., the Joseon or Chosŏn Dynasty), dreamed one night that he
traveled to the Peach Blossom Fountainhead and directed the royal court painter
An Kyŏn 安堅 (also romanized as An Gyeon) to paint Mongyu dowondo 夢游桃源圖
(Depiction of a Dream Journey to the Peachtree Fountainhead), a painting now held
in Japan’s Tenri Central Library.
Many Vietnamese scholars have idolized Tao, including the renowned sixteenth-century poet Nguyễn Bỉnh Khiêm 阮秉謙 (1491–1585). Dissatisfied with the
unchecked treachery of court officials in his time, he declared himself ill and
returned home to a life in reclusion, where he often sang and recited “Leaving for
Home!” to express what he too felt. In his own poetry, he compared himself to
Tao.45
Tao’s works have attracted attention from scholars in the West as well.
Charles Budd, Arthur Waley, Amy Lowell, J. R. Hightower, and others have
translated Tao’s poetry into English,46 and his works also fill volumes of translations into French, German, and other languages.47 His ziran 自然 (naturalness)
seems to hold out the promise of a restorative, perhaps even an effective medicine
to heal and save modern civilization from its various long-standing ills and corruption. Whether in bustling New York, Paris, or Tokyo, people’s yearning for
scenic landscape and “naturalness”—despite the differences across nations and
times—remains essentially the same.
The renowned nineteenth-century American writer Henry David Thoreau
once built himself a wooden cabin near Walden Pond in Concord, Massachusetts,
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where he lived more or less self-sufficiently for two years to demonstrate his disdain
for modern society’s excessive pursuit of material gratification. He composed the
book Walden from his personal experiences, and the pursuit of “naturalness” that
he advocates there coincides in many respects with Tao’s. Tao’s deep understanding
of “naturalness” as a state of life also shares features with the social perspective of
romanticism in Western literature, and—in a different way, given the ontological
resonances—with Martin Heidegger’s thinking in his philosophical proposition
“. . . Poetically Man Dwells . . .” (i.e., his 1951 essay “. . . Dichterisch wohnet der
Mensch . . .”).
In our increasingly developed material civilization, the poetry of Tao encourages us to reflect on the spiritual prospects of humankind and on how we might
reestablish a harmonious relationship between humans and nature, humans and
society, and humans and our own selves.
YUAN XINGPEI 袁行霈
Peking University
[email protected]
ALAN BERKOWITZ
Swarthmore College
[email protected]
Acknowledgment
Translator’s Note: The translator would like to acknowledge the editorial assistance of the
various editors who have helped to improve the manuscript.
Notes
1.
One hundred twenty-five poems are collected in Yuan, Collected Works of Tao.
2.
Bai Juyi,“Ti Xunyang lou zi ci hou shi Jiangzhou Sima shi zuo” 題潯陽樓自此後詩江州司馬
時作, in Bai shi Changqing ji, juan 7.
3.
Du Fu 杜甫 (712–770), “Yi xing wu shou, qi san” 遺興五首其三, in Qiu, Du shi xiangzhu,
563.
4.
Letter to his brother Su Zhe 蘇轍 (1039–1112); see Su Zhe,“Zizhan he Tao Yuanming shi ji
yin yi shou” 子瞻和陶淵明詩集引一首, in Luancheng hou ji, juan 21.
5.
Su Shi shi ji, 1881–92.
6.
Su Shi, “He ‘Guiqulaixi ci,’” in Su Shi shi ji, 2.561.
7.
Li, Zhuzi yu lei, 34.874.
8.
Zhang, Tao Yuanming ji, appendix to juan 8.
9.
Xuanhe hua pu, juan 7, “Renwu” 人物 3.
10. Huang Tingjian, “Shu Xuanzhenzi ‘Yufu’ zeng Yu Xiulao” 書玄真子漁父贈俞秀老, in
Huang, Yuzhang Huang xiansheng wenji, juan 26.
11. Wang Qisun,“Record of Huang Raopu’s Tao Tao Studio” (“Huang Raopu Tao Tao shi ji” 黃
蕘圃陶陶室記), in Wang, Yuanya tang quanji, juan 7.
Yuan • Tao Yuanming
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
See Qu Yuan, “Li sao jing” 離騷經, in Xiao Tong, comp., Wen xuan 文選 (facsimile rept. of
Song ed, Taipei: Zhengzhong, 1976), 32.18a And see Liu Xin,“Suichu fu” in Qian Xizuo 錢
熙祚, ed., Guwen yuan 古文苑. Guoxue jiben congshu ed., 5.123.
See Fang Xuanling 房玄齡, ed., Jin shu (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1982), 49.1361.
Ruan Ji, “Yong huai shi” 詠懷詩, in Wen xuan, 23.86.
See Wen xuan, 15.21a.
“Shi zuo zhenjun canjun jing Qu’e zuo” 始作鎮軍參軍經曲阿作 (“Written When Passing
Through Qu’e, on Taking Up Service As Adjutant to the General of Defense”), in Yuan,
Tao Yuanming ji jianzhu, 180.
“Yisi sui sanyue wei Jianwei canjun shidu jing Qianxi” 乙巳歲三月為建威參軍使都經錢溪
(“Passing through Qianxi in the Third Month of the Year Yisi (405), Sent While on
Assignment to the Capital As Adjutant to the General for Establishing Majesty”), in Yuan,
Tao Yuanming ji jianzhu, 210.
“Yin jiu ershi shou” 飲酒二十首, no. 5; Yuan, 247.
Wang Anshi, after repeated reversals—appointment as grand councilor, loss of his ministerial appointment, reinstatement, and dismissal from office—in the end returned home
to seclusion in Jiangning, where he lived out his remaining days in reclusion. Many of his
poems from this period express the sentiment of “extolling Tao” (yong Tao 咏陶) or
“idolizing Tao,” including this quatrain titled “Five Willows” (“Wu liu”): “As with the Five
Willows residence in Chaisang, / So it is with the Three Poplars at the Baixia posthouse, /
Coming, going, not a single engagement, and / I always have green nature in my sight” 五柳
柴桑宅, 三楊白下亭. 往來無一事, 長得見青青 (Linchuan wen ji 臨川文集, in Qinding Siku
quanshu huiyao 欽定四庫全書薈要, 26.7b). Baixia 白下 was another name for Wang’s
Jiangning location, and the Baixia posthouse refers to Wang’s place of residence. Poets
comparing Tao’s home amid gardens and fields with their own residences clearly show
their wish to emulate Tao’s easygoing, contented way of life. We see this again in Wang’s
poem “Ji Yu shi xiongdi” 寄虞氏兄弟 (Sent to the Brothers Yu): “My whole life was filled
with cares and anxieties, / Until suddenly in an act of wildness I discarded my books
forever. /For my former heart’s aspiration, I entirely lost courage, / Now, with broken back,
I even more see advantage in weakness. / Long have I heard praises of Yang Xian being
peaceful in his home, / And I myself have weighed the way Yuanming distanced himself
from the world. / Too, there have been times of no return home to the gullies and valleys, /
But now I must get closer to setting up my cabin amid the fields” 一身兼抱百憂虞, 忽忽如
狂久廢書。 疇昔心期俱喪勇, 此來腰疾更乘虛。 久聞陽羨安家好, 自度淵明與世疏。 亦有未歸溝
壑日, 會應相近置田廬. The first four lines reflect on his long turbulence in the seas of
official life: although he once aspired to save the world, in the end he could only retire from
officialdom; as his body began to fail him in old age, he grasped the present while pursuing
the past and could not help but sigh. From the central couplets on, he turns to write about
his delight in moving away and building a residence. The emotional tone abruptly shifts
with the line “I have weighed the way Yuanming distanced himself from the world,” in
which the poet truly is gaining a new starting point through following Tao’s way of life,
“distancing himself from the world” (yu shi shu 與世疏) and expressing his peaceful
attitude toward life in reclusion.
Chao Buzhi, “Guilaizi ming Mincheng suo ju ji” 歸來子名緡城所居記, in Chao, Ji le ji 鷄肋
集, juan 31.
See Yuan, Tao Yuanming, 366, 377.
See Lun yu 論語, 15/1.
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23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.
37.
38.
39.
40.
41.
42.
43.
44.
45.
46.
47.
See Guo Qingfan 郭慶藩, Zhuangzi ji shi 莊子集釋 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1961), 17.604.
Yuan, Tao Yuanming, 368.
See Bai Juyi, Bai Juyi ji 白居易集 (Beijing: Zhonghua, 1979), 7.129.
Liu, Jingxiu xiansheng wen ji, juan 3.
Wu, “An zhuo wo ji,” juan 5.
Yuan, Tao Yuanming, 529.
See Xiao Tong, “Tao Yuanming zhuan” 陶淵明傳, in Yuan, Tao Yuanming, 611.
Chen, Yuan shi ji shi, 3.18a.
Kang,“Xing lu nan ni” 行路難擬 (Imitating “Xing lu nan”), in Kang, Shenxiu tang ji, juan 2.
Wen, Wen shan ji, juan 14, Bie ji 別集.
Yuan, Images of Tao, 61.
Peng, Quan Tangshi, juan 169.
Ibid., juan 226.
Ibid., juan 428.
Li, Liang xi ji, juan 13.
A common phrasing, the first part originating in Ban Gu’s “Preface” 序 to the “Li Sao”; see
Hong, Chu ci buzhu, 1.49. The second part is adapted fromYan Zhi tui; see Chu ci buzhu, 1.50
See “Ju song” 橘頌 in Jiu zhang 九章, Chu ci buzhu, 4.155.
Hong, Chu ci buzhu, 3.
See Yang Mingzhao 楊明照, ed., Wenxin diaolong zhu 文心雕龍注 (rpt. Taipei: Heluo,
1976), 5.28. And see Li Bai’s “Jiangshang yin” 江上吟 in Peng, Quan Tangshi, 166.1716.
Fujiwara no Sukeyo, Ying jiu chaoben, 19.42a.
Examples are Yoshikawa Kōjirō 吉川幸次朗, Tō Enmei den 陶淵明傳 (A Biography of Tao
Yuanming) (Chikuma Shobō, 2008); Shiba Rokurō 斯波六郎, Tō Enmei shi ch
uyaku 陶淵
明詩注譯 (Tao Yuanming’s Poetry Translated and Annotated) (Tōmon Shobō, 1951); and
Suzuki Torao 鈴木虎雄, Tō Enmei shi kai 陶淵明詩解 (Tao Yuanming’s Poetry Explained)
(Kōbundō, 1948).
Cui, Tao Yuanming, 29–127.
This information was contributed by Zhao Yulan 趙玉蘭 (pers. comm.).
Budd, Chinese Poems (1912); Waley, A Hundred and Seventy Chinese Poems (1918);
Lowell, Fir-Flower Tablets: Poems Translated from the Chinese (1921); Hightower, The
Poetry of T’ao Ch’ien (1970). Other noteworthy translations and studies in English include
Davis, T’ao Yüan-ming; Kwong, Tao Qian and the Chinese Poetic Tradition; Holzman,
“Dialogue with the Ancients”; Chang,“Unmasking of Tao Qian”; Tian, Tao Yuanming and
Manuscript Culture; Swartz, Reading Tao Yuanming; Ashmore, Transport of Reading; and
Berkowitz, “Poetry of Reclusion.”
See, for example, Liang Zongdai’s 梁宗岱 (1903–1985), Les poèmes de Tao Tsien (Paris:
Lemarget, 1930). Rept. as Fa yi Tao Qian shi xuan 法譯陶潛詩選 (Selected Poems by Tao
Qian in French Translation) (2003). Also see Ernst Schwarz (1916–2003), Pfirsischblütenquell (Peach Blossom Fountainhead) (Leipzig: Insel, 1967).
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