Tao Hongjing and the Aesthetic Vision of His Maoshan Poetry and Prose

Li Jinkun

Tao Hongjing (456–536), courtesy name Tongming, was a native of Moling in Danyang (present-day Nanjing, Jiangsu); after his death he was given the posthumous title “Master Zhenbai” (Master of Purity and Integrity).

Tao Hongjing was a Taoist thinker, physician, and man of letters of the Qi and Liang dynasties of the Southern Dynasties. In his early years he embraced Confucianism and was eager for an official career. He first served as a reading companion to the princes of Qi. He “deeply admired Zhang Liang as a man, saying: ‘Among the worthies of old he has no equal.’” He had “fully expected to become a secretary in the Department of State by about the age of forty,” but at thirty-six he had only “just become an attendant at court.” His ideal dashed, he reflected that it would be “better to leave early than to bring toil and humiliation on myself.” So in the tenth year of the Yongming era of Qi (492), at the age of thirty-seven, he resigned his office and withdrew to Mount Mao (Maoshan) in Jurong, calling himself the Recluse of Huayang. There he devoted himself to refining elixirs and studying the Tao until he passed away.

The Taoist Shangqing school (Highest Clarity) of Mount Mao later came to be called the Maoshan school, and the pioneering efforts of Tao Hongjing and his many disciples in this cannot be overlooked. As the great synthesizer of Taoist reform in the Southern Dynasties and the actual founder of the Maoshan community, he played an important role in the history of Chinese Taoism, carrying on the past and opening the way for the future. Apart from a few brief years traveling east through Zhejiang in search of better conditions for refining elixirs, he lived in seclusion on Mount Mao for the whole second half of his life—more than forty years. He had come to love Mount Mao deeply, this Peach-Blossom-Spring-like “paradise on earth,” this “immortals’ capital within the realm of desire.” So when Emperor Wu of Liang, Xiao Yan—who had ascended the throne with his help—solemnly asked him to leave the mountain and assist in government, he tactfully declined with the poem Asked by Imperial Edict What There Is in the Mountains, I Answer with a Poem (hereafter Asked by Imperial Edict). At the same time he painted two oxen: one grazing freely among the water plants, the other wearing a golden halter, led by a rope and driven by a whip. This was a new version of the story in which Zhuangzi turned down the King of Chu’s invitation to office with the parable that he would rather be an ordinary turtle “dragging its tail in the mud” than the sacred turtle of the ancestral temple, “whose bones are preserved and honored” (Zhuangzi, “Autumn Floods”).

Emperor Wu of Liang, who had always shown Tao Hongjing great favor and courtesy, said no more when he saw this poem and painting with their deeper meaning. Once one of the “Eight Friends of Jingling,” Emperor Wu, like Tao Hongjing, was a brilliant writer and a passionate lover of natural landscape. He therefore understood Tao Hongjing’s choice well. Nevertheless, “whenever the state had a great matter of good or ill fortune or a military campaign, the emperor always consulted him first; several letters went back and forth each month,” and people of the time called Tao Hongjing “the Prime Minister in the Mountains.”

Precisely because Tao Hongjing while cultivating the Tao never forgot Confucianism, and studied Buddhism without forgetting the world, he always held to the world-helping spirit of benefiting the state and the people through “establishing virtue,” “establishing deeds,” and “establishing words” (Zuo Commentary, twenty-fourth year of Duke Zhuang). Besides compiling important Taoist works such as the Declarations of the Perfected (Zhen’gao) and the Chart of the Ranks and Functions of the Perfected and Numinous Beings in the Dongxuan Lingbao, he devoted himself to the natural sciences—calendrical calculation, geography, and medicine. He edited the ancient Divine Farmer’s Classic of Materia Medica (Shennong Bencao Jing), added the new drugs used by famous physicians of the Wei and Jin, and completed the great work Collected Annotations on the Classic of Materia Medica in seven juan (it records 730 drugs in all and was the first to classify them into jade and stone, herbs and trees, insects, beasts, fruits, vegetables, and grains, exerting a certain influence on the development of pharmacology; unfortunately the original is lost, and only a fragmentary Dunhuang copy survives). He also wrote medical works such as Master Tao’s Proven Prescriptions, Supplemented One Hundred and One Prescriptions to Keep at Hand, and General Formulas of Drugs.

In literature, there is the Collected Works of Tao the Recluse of Huayang (that is, the Collected Works of Tao Hongjing, of which the modern scholar Wang Jingzhou has produced a collated and annotated edition). Owing to war, natural disasters, and other factors, many of Tao Hongjing’s writings have been lost; nearly ten survive today.

In short, Tao Hongjing’s dwelling on Mount Mao was, without doubt, poetically luminous, lofty, and immortal. Jiang Zong, in his “Preface to the Collected Works of Master Tao Zhenbai,” appraised his scholarly achievements thus: “As for broad and quick virtue and conduct—the four disciplines of Confucius’s school—and deep and long mastery of the classics—the six arts of Zheng Xuan’s school—Master Tao of Danyang had them all. As for the green slips of the purple terrace, the green cases and cinnabar scriptures, the secret texts on jade tablets and the strange documents of the jasper altar, there were none whose subtleties he did not penetrate and whose meanings he did not exhaust. He was truly a man of extraordinary and peerless gifts, a remarkable figure of his age.”

In addition, Tao Hongjing had profound attainments in calligraphy; he often discussed calligraphy with Emperor Wu of Liang, and they exchanged many letters. Tradition holds that the Inscription for Burying a Crane, the ancestor of large-character calligraphy, came from his hand. In short, Tao Hongjing was a celebrated and cultivated figure of the Jiangzuo region who blended the three teachings, excelled in both letters and sciences, and achieved success in each.

The Collected Works of Tao Hongjing leaves later generations many enduring works singing of the wondrous beauty of Mount Mao. Of these, the two “answers”—the poem Asked by Imperial Edict and the prose piece Letter in Reply to Secretary Xie—are the most outstanding representatives.

The poem Asked by Imperial Edict reads: What is there in the mountains? On the ridges there are many white clouds. They can only delight myself; I cannot bear to send them to you.

As the title shows, this is an old-style poem in five-character lines in which Tao Hongjing answers Emperor Wu of Liang’s summons to leave the mountains; the story behind it has been told above. The first two lines state directly the emperor’s question and the poet’s answer. One asks plainly, the other answers crisply. Because the ruler and his subject had long known each other and were on warm terms, there was no need for either to beat about the bush.

The poet does not marvel at the age and wonder of immortal caves, does not extol the clear, cold abundance of mountain springs, does not praise the peerless beauty of flowers and trees, nor boast of the extraordinary grandeur of Taoist temples; with just one line—“On the ridges there are many white clouds”—he fully expresses his confidence, contentment, and pride. Why did the poet single out “white clouds” and cherish them so? Because “white clouds” carry deep meaning. First, the image of white clouds is a symbol of a pure and noble spirit and character, in stark contrast with the ugliness and filth of the vulgar world. Second, the image of white clouds is connected with the immortals. The chapter “Heaven and Earth” of the Zhuangzi says: “Riding those white clouds, one reaches the land of God.” The land of God is the land of the immortals. Third, the image of white clouds signifies withdrawal into reclusion. Zuo Si’s Poem Summoning the Recluse says: “White clouds linger over the shaded ridge; red blossoms shine in the sunlit wood.” Hence later generations often used “white clouds” to mean living in reclusion. Fourth, the image of white clouds symbolizes a carefree and free way of life. White clouds in a blue sky gather and scatter without fixed pattern, come and go unpredictably, free and at ease.

Tao Yuanming’s Returning Home says: “The clouds without intent drift out from the peaks,” describing the leisurely scene of clouds drifting freely among the mountains. Still more noteworthy is that the poet adds the adjective “many” before “white clouds” as a modifier, making the image of white clouds richer and deeper in meaning. Seen this way, the poet’s pride in living in seclusion in such an immortals’ land where “on the ridges there are many white clouds” overflows his words. It is truly a case of “not a single word set down, yet all the charm is captured” (Sikong Tu, Twenty-Four Categories of Poetry, “Reserve”). The third and fourth lines are still the poet’s answer. Through the sharp contrast of “can only” and “cannot bear,” the poet stresses the deep feeling with which “many white clouds” “delight myself.” By now the poet’s unwillingness to accept the summons and leave the mountains goes without saying. The three words “delight myself” carry, within their confidence, a good deal of wit and humor and a mystery that “can be sensed but not put into words,” working to the same wonderful effect as Li Bai’s “You ask me why I dwell in the green mountains; I smile and do not answer, my heart at ease. Peach blossoms on the flowing water drift far away—there is another world here, not the world of men” (Question and Answer in the Mountains).

Asked by Imperial Edict has twenty characters, one question and three answers, and its core idea is nothing more than the image of white clouds, yet it achieves the artistic effect of one standing for ten and of little overcoming much. Zhang Yugu commented: “(The whole poem) speaks only of clouds, yet within the words there is a spirit of understanding and beyond the words an intent to decline. An answer to an edict like this shows both the man and the poem to be lofty.”

Asked by Imperial Edict is indeed a rare masterpiece among poems answering imperial edicts.

Now let us look at the description of Mount Mao’s scenery in Letter in Reply to Secretary Xie (hereafter Reply to Xie): “The beauty of mountains and rivers has been talked of by all since ancient times. High peaks enter the clouds; clear streams show their beds. On the rock walls of both banks, five colors shine together; green forests and emerald bamboo are there in all four seasons. As the dawn mist is about to lift, apes and birds cry in confusion; as the evening sun is about to sink, the fish in the depths leap in rivalry. This is truly an immortals’ capital within the realm of desire. Since Kangle, there has been no one able to share in its wonders.”

If Asked by Imperial Edict expresses the poet’s ardent love for the beauty of Mount Mao by describing a single point—the “white clouds” that “delight myself”—then Reply to Xie expresses his deep love for it by setting out the whole “surface” of scenery in the mountains. If the former is a lightly sketched freehand painting with the aesthetic effect of hazy beauty, then the latter is a richly colored meticulous painting offering the aesthetic experience of clear beauty. If the former is only a panoramic embellishment of Mount Mao’s beauty, a partial answer, then the latter is precisely a close-up display of that beauty, the full answer. To compare them to an essay, the former is merely a brilliant title, and the latter the splendid body text. One poem and one prose piece, the two complement and illuminate each other, together painting an eternal picture of Mount Mao’s beauty and hand in hand lifting its mysterious veil!

The Secretary Xie of the title is Xie Wei (also written Xie Zheng), courtesy name Yuandu, a native of Yangxia in Chen Commandery (present-day Taikang County, Henan). He loved learning and was a fine writer. Serving under the Liang, he rose successively to posts such as secretary of the Central Secretariat and minister of the Court of State Ceremonial. Tao Hongjing was forty-four years older than Xie Wei, yet they died in the same year. The two were close friends across the generations. This piece is Tao Hongjing’s letter in reply to Secretary Xie, written when he had already lived in seclusion on Mount Mao for more than forty years; Reply to Xie is another masterpiece in praise of Mount Mao, written long after Asked by Imperial Edict.

The whole of Reply to Xie is only sixty-eight characters, yet it concentrates the author’s deep delight in the natural landscape of Mount Mao and his rich aesthetic taste, brimming with the pride, happiness, and contentment of “they can only delight myself.”

The opening two phrases, “The beauty of mountains and rivers has been talked of by all since ancient times,” begin abruptly, cutting straight to the theme and rousing the whole piece. They both set the keynote of beauty for the whole and naturally arouse the reader’s strong desire to appreciate it. Beauty comes first, with delight contained within. The four characters rendered “talked of by all since ancient times” hold broad and deep meaning. With a nimble brush, the author sums up the fine tradition, from remote antiquity to his own day, of delighting in “the beauty of mountains and rivers,” confirming the ancient and universal psychology that “all people love beauty.” These opening eight characters are a wide shot moving from far to near. What follows—the forty characters from “High peaks enter the clouds” to “the fish in the depths leap in rivalry”—is a montage of separate shots, displaying the exceptional beauty of Mount Mao from every angle and aspect.

This is the main body of the piece and its very essence. “High peaks enter the clouds; clear streams show their beds” follows directly from “the beauty of mountains and rivers.” The hyperbole of “entering the clouds” and “showing their beds” highlights the height of the mountains and the clarity of the water, seizing attention at once and leaving an impression of Mount Mao as lofty, pure, and otherworldly—showing what is extraordinary about this Taoist holy land. “On the rock walls of both banks, five colors shine together” is a close-up, bringing out the five colors—blue, red, white, black, and yellow—produced on the rock walls on both sides of the gorge as the sunlight falls on them: dappled, multicolored, supremely beautiful. Reflecting and shining with the stream in the gorge whose “clear streams show their beds,” it brings a special grace into the shot. Next, the author again describes the beauty of Mount Mao’s colors. “Green forests and emerald bamboo” highlights the steadfast image of pines, bamboo, and the like, which do not wither in frost and stay green all year—so through all four seasons, constant and unchanging in their beauty. It also implies the author’s eternal conviction to keep to the mountain, cultivate himself, and hold fast to his integrity. In the four phrases beginning “On the rock walls of both banks,” the author pans the camera, focusing on static scenes of color and singing of Mount Mao’s beauty “in all four seasons.” In the four phrases beginning “As the dawn mist is about to lift,” the author swings the camera, moving from the apes and birds crying to one another amid the “green forests and emerald bamboo” to the fish leaping in rivalry in the stream whose “clear streams show their beds”—from top to bottom, with the emphasis on moving scenes of sound—fully revealing Mount Mao’s beauty from morning to evening. With the single word “confusion,” the whole world of apes and birds crying together comes alive; with the single word “rivalry,” the whole joyful world of fish leaping in the clear stream comes alive. Here one glimpses the author’s profound command of language. Using all kinds of shots, the author portrays the beauty of Mount Mao’s mountains and rivers layer by layer—from high peaks and clear streams and the scenery of the four seasons to the atmosphere of morning and evening and the joy of the animals—vivid in sound and color, combining motion and stillness, all things in beautiful harmony, like a poem and a painting, utterly intoxicating. The line “This is truly an immortals’ capital within the realm of desire” comes naturally as water finding its channel, with the weight of a thousand jun. It is Tao Hongjing’s deepest insight into, most apt judgment of, and most heartfelt praise for the beauty of Mount Mao after more than forty years of living there in seclusion. The words “this is truly” are set down with great certainty, and his deep feeling shows of itself. In the final line, “Since Kangle, there has been no one able to share in its wonders,” a voice from beyond the frame, the author’s confidence and pride once again stress the extraordinary beauty of Mount Mao’s mountains and rivers! Echoing the opening from afar, it rounds off beginning and end and elevates the theme of the piece.

From then on, Tao Hongjing’s Reply to Xie, together with Asked by Imperial Edict, gave Mount Mao its first immortal calling card, equally fine in poetry and prose and beautiful for a thousand years!

(Li Jinkun, Professor, School of Liberal Arts, Jiangsu University)

Notes:

1. Li Yanshou, “Biography of Tao Hongjing,” History of the Southern Dynasties, in Bona Edition of the Twenty-Five Histories, vol. 2, Zhejiang Ancient Books Publishing House, 1998, p. 1071.

2. Tao Hongjing, “Letter to My Elder Cousin,” in Wang Jingzhou, Collected Works of Tao Hongjing, Collated and Annotated, Shanghai Ancient Books Publishing House, 2009. All quotations from Tao Hongjing’s poetry and prose in this article are from this work and are not separately noted.

3. Ouyang Xun et al., Classified Collection of Literature, juan 55, Zhonghua Book Company, 1965.

4. Wang Jingzhou, Collected Works of Tao Hongjing, Collated and Annotated, Shanghai Ancient Books Publishing House, 2009, p. 4.

5. Zhang Yugu, Appreciation of Ancient Poetry, juan 20, Shanghai Ancient Books Publishing House, 2000, p. 470.