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Title: The Poet Li Po
A. D. 701-762

Author: Arthur Waley
Bai Li

Release Date: July 21, 2013 [EBook #43274]

Language: English

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THE POET LI PO

A. D. 701-762

BY ARTHUR WALEY

_A Paper read before the_ CHINA SOCIETY _at the School of Oriental
Studies on November 21, 1918_

EAST AND WEST, LTD.
3, VICTORIA STREET, LONDON, S. W. 1
1919




THE POET LI PO

(A. D. 701-762)

BY ARTHUR WALEY


INTRODUCTION

Since the Middle Ages the Chinese have been almost unanimous in
regarding Li Po as their greatest poet, and the few who have given the
first place to his contemporary Tu Fu have usually accorded the second
to Li.

One is reluctant to disregard the verdict of a people upon its own
poets. We are sometimes told by Frenchmen or Russians that Oscar Wilde
is greater than Shakespeare. We are tempted to reply that no foreigner
can be qualified to decide such a point.

Yet we do not in practice accept the judgment of other nations upon
their own literature. To most Germans Schiller is still a great poet;
but to the rest of Europe hardly one at all.

It is consoling to discover that on some Germans (Lilienkron, for
example) Schiller makes precisely the same impression as he does on
us. And similarly, if we cannot accept the current estimate of Li Po,
we have at least the satisfaction of knowing that some of China's
most celebrated writers are on our side. About A. D. 816 the poet Po
Chu-i wrote as follows (he is discussing Tu Fu as well as Li Po): "The
world acclaims Li Po as its master poet. I grant that his works show
unparalleled talent and originality, but not one in ten contains any
moral reflection or deeper meaning.

"Tu Fu's poems are very numerous; perhaps about 1,000 of them are worth
preserving. In the art of stringing together allusions ancient and
modern and in the skill of his versification in the regular metres he
even excels Li Po. But such poems as the 'Pressgang,'[1] and such lines
as

[1] Giles, "Chinese Poetry," p. 90.

"'At the Palace Gate, the smell of wine and meat;
Out in the road, one who has frozen to death'

form only a small proportion of his whole work. "

The poet Yuan Ch? n (779-831) wrote a famous essay comparing Li Po with
Tu Fu.

"At this time," he says (_i. e. _, at the time of Tu Fu), "Li Po from
Shantung was also celebrated for his remarkable writings, and the names
of these two were often coupled together. In my judgment, as regards
impassioned vigour of style, freedom from conventional restraint, and
skill in the mere description of exterior things, his ballads and songs
are certainly worthy to rub shoulders with Fu. But in disposition of
the several parts of a poem, in carrying the balance of rhyme and tone
through a composition of several hundred or even in some cases of a
thousand words, in grandeur of inspiration combined with harmonious
rhythm and deep feeling, in emphasis of parallel clauses, in exclusion
of the vulgar or modern--in all these qualities Li is not worthy to
approach Fu's front hedge, let alone his inner chamber! "

"Subsequent writers," adds the "T'ang History" (the work in which this
essay is preserved), "have agreed with Yuan Ch? n. "

Wang An-shih (1021-1086), the great reformer of the eleventh century,
observes: "Li Po's style is swift, yet never careless; lively, yet
never informal. But his intellectual outlook was low and sordid. In
nine poems out of ten he deals with nothing but wine or women. "

In the "Yu Yin Ts'ung Hua," Hu Tz? (_circa_ 1120) says: "Wang An-shih,
in enumerating China's four greatest poets, put Li Po fourth on the
list. Many vulgar people expressed surprise, but Wang replied: 'The
reason why vulgar people find Li Po's poetry congenial is that it is
easy to enjoy. His intellectual outlook was mean and sordid, and out of
ten poems nine deal with wine or women; nevertheless, the abundance of
his talent makes it impossible to leave him out of account. '"

Finally Huang T'ing-chien (A. D. 1050-1110), accepted by the Chinese
as one of their greatest writers, says with reference to Li's poetry:
"The quest for unusual expressions is in itself a literary disease. It
was, indeed, this fashion which caused the decay which set in after the
Chien-an period (_i. e. _, at the beginning of the third century A. D. ). "

To these native strictures very little need be added. No one who reads
much of Li's poetry in the original can fail to notice the two defects
which are emphasized by the Sung critics. The long poems are often
ill-constructed. Where, for example, he wishes to convey an impression
of horror he is apt to exhaust himself in the first quatrain, and the
rest of the poem is a network of straggling repetitions. Very few of
these longer poems have been translated. The second defect, his lack
of variety, is one which would only strike those who have read a large
number of his poems. Translators have naturally made their selections
as varied as possible, so that many of those who know the poet only in
translation might feel inclined to defend him on this score. According
to Wang An-shih, his two subjects are wine and women. The second does
not, of course, imply love-poetry, but sentiments put into the mouths
of deserted wives and concubines. Such themes are always felt by the
Chinese to be in part allegorical, the deserted lady symbolizing the
minister whose counsels a wicked monarch will not heed.

Such poems form the dullest section of Chinese poetry, and are
certainly frequent in Li's works. But his most monotonous feature
is the mechanical recurrence of certain reflections about the
impermanence of human things, as opposed to the immutability of Nature.
Probably about half the poems contain some reference to the fact that
rivers do not return to their sources, while man changes hour by hour.

The obsession of impermanence has often been sublimated into great
mystic poetry. In Li Po it results only in endless restatement of
obvious facts.

It has, I think, been generally realized that his strength lies not
in the content, but in the form of his poetry. Above all, he was a
song-writer. Most of the pieces translated previously and most of those
I am going to read to-day are songs, not poems. It is noteworthy that
his tombstone bore the inscription, "His skill lay in the writing of
archaic songs. " His immediate predecessors had carried to the highest
refinement the art of writing in elaborate patterns of tone. In
Li's whole works there are said to be only nine poems in the strict
seven-character metre. Most of his familiar short poems are in the old
style, which neglects the formal arrangement of tones. The value of his
poetry lay in beauty of words, not in beauty of thought. Unfortunately
no one either here or in China can appreciate the music of his verse,
for we do not know how Chinese was pronounced in the eighth century.
Even to the modern Chinese, his poetry exists more for the eye than for
the ear.

The last point to which I shall refer is the extreme allusiveness of
his poems. This characteristic, common to most Chinese poetry, is
carried to an extreme point in the fifty-nine Old Style poems with
which the works begin. Not only do they bristle with the names of
historical personages, but almost every phrase is borrowed from some
classic. One is tempted to quarrel with Wang An-shih's statement that
people liked the poems because they were easy to enjoy. No modern could
understand them without pages of commentary to each poem. But Chinese
poetry, with a few exceptions, has been written on this principle
since the Han dynasty; one poet alone, Po Chu-i, broke through the
restraints of pedantry, erasing every expression that his charwoman
could not understand.

Translators have naturally avoided the most allusive poems and have
omitted or generalized such allusions as occurred. They have frequently
failed to recognize allusions as such, and have mistranslated them
accordingly, often turning proper names into romantic sentiments.

Li's reputation, like all success, is due partly to accident. After
suffering a temporary eclipse during the Sung dynasty, he came back
into favour in the sixteenth century, when most of the popular
anthologies were made. These compilations devote an inordinate space
to his works, and he has been held in corresponding esteem by a public
whose knowledge of poetry is chiefly confined to anthologies.

Serious literary criticism has been dead in China since that time, and
the valuations then made are still accepted.

Like Miss Havisham's clock, which stopped at twenty to nine on her
wedding-day, the clock of Chinese esteem stopped at Li Po centuries
ago, and has stuck there ever since.

But I venture to surmise that if a dozen representative English poets
could read Chinese poetry in the original, they would none of them give
either the first or second place to Li Po.


XXXI. 25.

LIFE OF LI PO, FROM THE "NEW HISTORY OF THE T'ANG DYNASTY," COMPOSED IN
THE ELEVENTH CENTURY.

Li Po, styled T'ai-po, was descended in the ninth generation from
the Emperor Hsing-sh? ng. [2] One of his ancestors was charged with a
crime at the end of the Sui dynasty,[3] and took refuge in Turkestan.
At the beginning of the period Sh? n-lung[4] the family returned and
settled in Pa-hsi. [5] At his birth Po's mother dreamt of the planet
Ch'ang-k? ng [Venus], and that was why he was called Po. [6]

[2] _I. e. _, Li Kao.

[3] A. D. 581-618.

[4] A. D. 705-707.

[5] In Szechwan.

[6] "Po," "white," was a popular name of the Planet Venus.

At ten he had mastered the Book of Odes and Book of History. When he
grew up he retired to the Min Mountains, and even when summoned to the
provincial examinations he made no response. When Su T'ing[7] became
Governor of I-chou, he was introduced to Po, and was astonished by
him, remarking: "This man has conspicuous natural talents. If he had
more learning he would be a second Ss? -ma Hsiang-ju. "[8] However, he
was interested in politics and fond of fencing, becoming one of those
knight-errants who care nothing for wealth and much for almsgiving.

[7] Giles, Biog. Dict. , No. 1,789.

[8] Giles, No. 1,753.

Once he stayed at J? n-ch'? ng[9] with K'ung Ch'ao-fu, Han Chun, P'ei
Ch? ng, Chang Shu-ming, and T'ao Mien. They lived on Mount Ch'u Lai, and
were dead drunk every day. People called them the Six Hermits of the
Bamboo Stream.

[9] In Shantung.

At the beginning of the T'ien-pao period[10] he went south to Kuei-chi,
and became intimate with Wu Yun. Wu Yun was summoned by the Emperor,
and Po went with him to Ch'ang-an. Here he visited Ho Chih-chang.
When Chih-chang read some of his work, he sighed and said: "You are
an exiled fairy. " He told the Emperor, who sent for Po and gave him
audience in the Golden Bells Hall. The poet submitted an essay dealing
with current events. The Emperor bestowed food upon him and stirred
the soup with his own hand. He ordered that he should be unofficially
attached to the Han Lin Academy, but Po went on drinking in the
market-place with his boon-companions.

[10] _Circa_ A. D. 742.

Once when the Emperor was sitting in the Pavilion of Aloes Wood, he had
a sudden stirring of heart, and wanted Po to write a song expressive of
his mood. When Po entered in obedience to the summons, he was so drunk
that the courtiers were obliged to dab his face with water. When he had
recovered a little, he seized a brush and without any effort wrote a
composition of flawless grace.

The Emperor was so pleased with Po's talent that whenever he was
feasting or drinking he always had this poet to wait upon him. Once
when Po was drunk the Emperor ordered [the eunuch] Kao Li-shih to take
off Po's shoes. Li-shih, who thought such a task beneath him, took
revenge by affecting to discover in one of Po's poems a veiled attack
on [the Emperor's mistress] Yang Kuei-fei.

Whenever the Emperor thought of giving the poet some official rank,
Kuei-fei intervened and dissuaded him.

Po himself, soon realizing that he was unsuited to Court life, allowed
his conduct to become more and more reckless and unrestrained.

Together with his friends Ho Chih-chang, Li Shih-chih, Chin, Prince of
Ju-yang, Ts'ui Tsung-chih, Su Chin, Chang Hsu, and Chiao Sui, he formed
the association known as the Eight Immortals of the Winecup.

He begged persistently to be allowed to retire from Court. At last the
Emperor gave him gold and sent him away. Po roamed the country in every
direction. Once he went by boat with Ts'ui Tsung-chih from Pien-shih to
Nanking. He wore his embroidered Court cloak and sat as proudly in the
boat as though he were king of the universe.

When the An Lu-shan revolution broke out, he took to living sometimes
at Su-sung, sometimes on Mount K'uang-lu.

Lin, Prince of Yung, gave him the post of assistant on his staff. When
Lin took up arms, he fled to P'? ng-ts? . When Lin was defeated, Po was
condemned to death. When Po first visited T'ai-yuan Fu, he had seen
and admired Kuo Tz? -i. [11] On one occasion, when Tz? -i was accused of
breaking the law, Li Po had come to his assistance and had him released.

[11] A famous General, the saviour of the dynasty.

Now, hearing of Po's predicament, Tz? -i threatened to resign unless Po
were saved. The Emperor remitted the sentence of death and changed it
to one of perpetual exile at Yeh-lang. [12] But when the amnesty was
declared he came back to Kiukiang. Here he was put on trial and sent to
gaol. But it happened that Sung Jo-ss? was marching to Honan with three
thousand soldiers from Kiangsu. He passed through Kiukiang on his way,
and released the prisoners there. He gave Li Po an appointment on his
staff. Po soon resigned.

[12] In Yunnan.

When Li Yang-ping became Governor of T'ang-tu, Po went to live near him.

The Emperor Tai Tsung[13] wished to raise him to the rank of Senior
Reviser. But when the order came Po was already dead, having reached
the age of somewhat over sixty. His last years were devoted to the
study of Taoism.

[13] Reigned 763-780.

He once crossed the Bull Island Eddies and, reaching Ku-shu, was
delighted by a place called the Green Hill, which lay in the estate of
the Hsieh family. He expressed a desire to be buried there, but when he
died they buried him at Tung-lin.

At the end of the period Yuan-ho,[14] Fan Ch'uan-ch? ng, Governor of the
districts Hsuan and Sh? [in Anhui], poured a libation on his grave and
forbade the woodmen to cut down the trees which grew there.

[14] 806-821.

He sought for Li Po's descendants, but could only find two
grand-daughters, who had both married common peasants, but still
retained an air of good breeding. They appeared before the Governor
weeping, and said: "Our grandfather's wish was to be buried on top of
the Green Hill. But they made his grave at the eastern hill-base, which
is not what he desired. "

Fan Ch'uan-ch? ng had the grave moved and set up two tombstones. He
told the ladies they might change their husbands and marry into the
official classes, but they refused, saying that they were pledged to
isolation and poverty and could not marry again. Fan was so moved by
their reply that he exempted their husbands from national service.
net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)









THE POET LI PO

A. D. 701-762

BY ARTHUR WALEY

_A Paper read before the_ CHINA SOCIETY _at the School of Oriental
Studies on November 21, 1918_

EAST AND WEST, LTD.
3, VICTORIA STREET, LONDON, S. W. 1
1919




THE POET LI PO

(A. D. 701-762)

BY ARTHUR WALEY


INTRODUCTION

Since the Middle Ages the Chinese have been almost unanimous in
regarding Li Po as their greatest poet, and the few who have given the
first place to his contemporary Tu Fu have usually accorded the second
to Li.

One is reluctant to disregard the verdict of a people upon its own
poets. We are sometimes told by Frenchmen or Russians that Oscar Wilde
is greater than Shakespeare. We are tempted to reply that no foreigner
can be qualified to decide such a point.

Yet we do not in practice accept the judgment of other nations upon
their own literature. To most Germans Schiller is still a great poet;
but to the rest of Europe hardly one at all.

It is consoling to discover that on some Germans (Lilienkron, for
example) Schiller makes precisely the same impression as he does on
us. And similarly, if we cannot accept the current estimate of Li Po,
we have at least the satisfaction of knowing that some of China's
most celebrated writers are on our side. About A. D. 816 the poet Po
Chu-i wrote as follows (he is discussing Tu Fu as well as Li Po): "The
world acclaims Li Po as its master poet. I grant that his works show
unparalleled talent and originality, but not one in ten contains any
moral reflection or deeper meaning.

"Tu Fu's poems are very numerous; perhaps about 1,000 of them are worth
preserving. In the art of stringing together allusions ancient and
modern and in the skill of his versification in the regular metres he
even excels Li Po. But such poems as the 'Pressgang,'[1] and such lines
as

[1] Giles, "Chinese Poetry," p. 90.

"'At the Palace Gate, the smell of wine and meat;
Out in the road, one who has frozen to death'

form only a small proportion of his whole work. "

The poet Yuan Ch? n (779-831) wrote a famous essay comparing Li Po with
Tu Fu.

"At this time," he says (_i. e. _, at the time of Tu Fu), "Li Po from
Shantung was also celebrated for his remarkable writings, and the names
of these two were often coupled together. In my judgment, as regards
impassioned vigour of style, freedom from conventional restraint, and
skill in the mere description of exterior things, his ballads and songs
are certainly worthy to rub shoulders with Fu. But in disposition of
the several parts of a poem, in carrying the balance of rhyme and tone
through a composition of several hundred or even in some cases of a
thousand words, in grandeur of inspiration combined with harmonious
rhythm and deep feeling, in emphasis of parallel clauses, in exclusion
of the vulgar or modern--in all these qualities Li is not worthy to
approach Fu's front hedge, let alone his inner chamber! "

"Subsequent writers," adds the "T'ang History" (the work in which this
essay is preserved), "have agreed with Yuan Ch? n. "

Wang An-shih (1021-1086), the great reformer of the eleventh century,
observes: "Li Po's style is swift, yet never careless; lively, yet
never informal. But his intellectual outlook was low and sordid. In
nine poems out of ten he deals with nothing but wine or women. "

In the "Yu Yin Ts'ung Hua," Hu Tz? (_circa_ 1120) says: "Wang An-shih,
in enumerating China's four greatest poets, put Li Po fourth on the
list. Many vulgar people expressed surprise, but Wang replied: 'The
reason why vulgar people find Li Po's poetry congenial is that it is
easy to enjoy. His intellectual outlook was mean and sordid, and out of
ten poems nine deal with wine or women; nevertheless, the abundance of
his talent makes it impossible to leave him out of account. '"

Finally Huang T'ing-chien (A. D. 1050-1110), accepted by the Chinese
as one of their greatest writers, says with reference to Li's poetry:
"The quest for unusual expressions is in itself a literary disease. It
was, indeed, this fashion which caused the decay which set in after the
Chien-an period (_i. e. _, at the beginning of the third century A. D. ). "

To these native strictures very little need be added. No one who reads
much of Li's poetry in the original can fail to notice the two defects
which are emphasized by the Sung critics. The long poems are often
ill-constructed. Where, for example, he wishes to convey an impression
of horror he is apt to exhaust himself in the first quatrain, and the
rest of the poem is a network of straggling repetitions. Very few of
these longer poems have been translated. The second defect, his lack
of variety, is one which would only strike those who have read a large
number of his poems. Translators have naturally made their selections
as varied as possible, so that many of those who know the poet only in
translation might feel inclined to defend him on this score. According
to Wang An-shih, his two subjects are wine and women. The second does
not, of course, imply love-poetry, but sentiments put into the mouths
of deserted wives and concubines. Such themes are always felt by the
Chinese to be in part allegorical, the deserted lady symbolizing the
minister whose counsels a wicked monarch will not heed.

Such poems form the dullest section of Chinese poetry, and are
certainly frequent in Li's works. But his most monotonous feature
is the mechanical recurrence of certain reflections about the
impermanence of human things, as opposed to the immutability of Nature.
Probably about half the poems contain some reference to the fact that
rivers do not return to their sources, while man changes hour by hour.

The obsession of impermanence has often been sublimated into great
mystic poetry. In Li Po it results only in endless restatement of
obvious facts.

It has, I think, been generally realized that his strength lies not
in the content, but in the form of his poetry. Above all, he was a
song-writer. Most of the pieces translated previously and most of those
I am going to read to-day are songs, not poems. It is noteworthy that
his tombstone bore the inscription, "His skill lay in the writing of
archaic songs. " His immediate predecessors had carried to the highest
refinement the art of writing in elaborate patterns of tone. In
Li's whole works there are said to be only nine poems in the strict
seven-character metre. Most of his familiar short poems are in the old
style, which neglects the formal arrangement of tones. The value of his
poetry lay in beauty of words, not in beauty of thought. Unfortunately
no one either here or in China can appreciate the music of his verse,
for we do not know how Chinese was pronounced in the eighth century.
Even to the modern Chinese, his poetry exists more for the eye than for
the ear.

The last point to which I shall refer is the extreme allusiveness of
his poems. This characteristic, common to most Chinese poetry, is
carried to an extreme point in the fifty-nine Old Style poems with
which the works begin. Not only do they bristle with the names of
historical personages, but almost every phrase is borrowed from some
classic. One is tempted to quarrel with Wang An-shih's statement that
people liked the poems because they were easy to enjoy. No modern could
understand them without pages of commentary to each poem. But Chinese
poetry, with a few exceptions, has been written on this principle
since the Han dynasty; one poet alone, Po Chu-i, broke through the
restraints of pedantry, erasing every expression that his charwoman
could not understand.

Translators have naturally avoided the most allusive poems and have
omitted or generalized such allusions as occurred. They have frequently
failed to recognize allusions as such, and have mistranslated them
accordingly, often turning proper names into romantic sentiments.

Li's reputation, like all success, is due partly to accident. After
suffering a temporary eclipse during the Sung dynasty, he came back
into favour in the sixteenth century, when most of the popular
anthologies were made. These compilations devote an inordinate space
to his works, and he has been held in corresponding esteem by a public
whose knowledge of poetry is chiefly confined to anthologies.

Serious literary criticism has been dead in China since that time, and
the valuations then made are still accepted.

Like Miss Havisham's clock, which stopped at twenty to nine on her
wedding-day, the clock of Chinese esteem stopped at Li Po centuries
ago, and has stuck there ever since.

But I venture to surmise that if a dozen representative English poets
could read Chinese poetry in the original, they would none of them give
either the first or second place to Li Po.


XXXI. 25.

LIFE OF LI PO, FROM THE "NEW HISTORY OF THE T'ANG DYNASTY," COMPOSED IN
THE ELEVENTH CENTURY.

Li Po, styled T'ai-po, was descended in the ninth generation from
the Emperor Hsing-sh? ng. [2] One of his ancestors was charged with a
crime at the end of the Sui dynasty,[3] and took refuge in Turkestan.
At the beginning of the period Sh? n-lung[4] the family returned and
settled in Pa-hsi. [5] At his birth Po's mother dreamt of the planet
Ch'ang-k? ng [Venus], and that was why he was called Po. [6]

[2] _I. e. _, Li Kao.

[3] A. D. 581-618.

[4] A. D. 705-707.

[5] In Szechwan.

[6] "Po," "white," was a popular name of the Planet Venus.

At ten he had mastered the Book of Odes and Book of History. When he
grew up he retired to the Min Mountains, and even when summoned to the
provincial examinations he made no response. When Su T'ing[7] became
Governor of I-chou, he was introduced to Po, and was astonished by
him, remarking: "This man has conspicuous natural talents. If he had
more learning he would be a second Ss? -ma Hsiang-ju. "[8] However, he
was interested in politics and fond of fencing, becoming one of those
knight-errants who care nothing for wealth and much for almsgiving.

[7] Giles, Biog. Dict. , No. 1,789.

[8] Giles, No. 1,753.

Once he stayed at J? n-ch'? ng[9] with K'ung Ch'ao-fu, Han Chun, P'ei
Ch? ng, Chang Shu-ming, and T'ao Mien. They lived on Mount Ch'u Lai, and
were dead drunk every day. People called them the Six Hermits of the
Bamboo Stream.

[9] In Shantung.

At the beginning of the T'ien-pao period[10] he went south to Kuei-chi,
and became intimate with Wu Yun. Wu Yun was summoned by the Emperor,
and Po went with him to Ch'ang-an. Here he visited Ho Chih-chang.
When Chih-chang read some of his work, he sighed and said: "You are
an exiled fairy. " He told the Emperor, who sent for Po and gave him
audience in the Golden Bells Hall. The poet submitted an essay dealing
with current events. The Emperor bestowed food upon him and stirred
the soup with his own hand. He ordered that he should be unofficially
attached to the Han Lin Academy, but Po went on drinking in the
market-place with his boon-companions.

[10] _Circa_ A. D. 742.

Once when the Emperor was sitting in the Pavilion of Aloes Wood, he had
a sudden stirring of heart, and wanted Po to write a song expressive of
his mood. When Po entered in obedience to the summons, he was so drunk
that the courtiers were obliged to dab his face with water. When he had
recovered a little, he seized a brush and without any effort wrote a
composition of flawless grace.

The Emperor was so pleased with Po's talent that whenever he was
feasting or drinking he always had this poet to wait upon him. Once
when Po was drunk the Emperor ordered [the eunuch] Kao Li-shih to take
off Po's shoes. Li-shih, who thought such a task beneath him, took
revenge by affecting to discover in one of Po's poems a veiled attack
on [the Emperor's mistress] Yang Kuei-fei.

Whenever the Emperor thought of giving the poet some official rank,
Kuei-fei intervened and dissuaded him.

Po himself, soon realizing that he was unsuited to Court life, allowed
his conduct to become more and more reckless and unrestrained.

Together with his friends Ho Chih-chang, Li Shih-chih, Chin, Prince of
Ju-yang, Ts'ui Tsung-chih, Su Chin, Chang Hsu, and Chiao Sui, he formed
the association known as the Eight Immortals of the Winecup.

He begged persistently to be allowed to retire from Court. At last the
Emperor gave him gold and sent him away. Po roamed the country in every
direction. Once he went by boat with Ts'ui Tsung-chih from Pien-shih to
Nanking. He wore his embroidered Court cloak and sat as proudly in the
boat as though he were king of the universe.

When the An Lu-shan revolution broke out, he took to living sometimes
at Su-sung, sometimes on Mount K'uang-lu.

Lin, Prince of Yung, gave him the post of assistant on his staff. When
Lin took up arms, he fled to P'? ng-ts? . When Lin was defeated, Po was
condemned to death. When Po first visited T'ai-yuan Fu, he had seen
and admired Kuo Tz? -i. [11] On one occasion, when Tz? -i was accused of
breaking the law, Li Po had come to his assistance and had him released.

[11] A famous General, the saviour of the dynasty.

Now, hearing of Po's predicament, Tz? -i threatened to resign unless Po
were saved. The Emperor remitted the sentence of death and changed it
to one of perpetual exile at Yeh-lang. [12] But when the amnesty was
declared he came back to Kiukiang. Here he was put on trial and sent to
gaol. But it happened that Sung Jo-ss? was marching to Honan with three
thousand soldiers from Kiangsu. He passed through Kiukiang on his way,
and released the prisoners there. He gave Li Po an appointment on his
staff. Po soon resigned.

[12] In Yunnan.

When Li Yang-ping became Governor of T'ang-tu, Po went to live near him.

The Emperor Tai Tsung[13] wished to raise him to the rank of Senior
Reviser. But when the order came Po was already dead, having reached
the age of somewhat over sixty. His last years were devoted to the
study of Taoism.

[13] Reigned 763-780.

He once crossed the Bull Island Eddies and, reaching Ku-shu, was
delighted by a place called the Green Hill, which lay in the estate of
the Hsieh family. He expressed a desire to be buried there, but when he
died they buried him at Tung-lin.

At the end of the period Yuan-ho,[14] Fan Ch'uan-ch? ng, Governor of the
districts Hsuan and Sh? [in Anhui], poured a libation on his grave and
forbade the woodmen to cut down the trees which grew there.

[14] 806-821.

He sought for Li Po's descendants, but could only find two
grand-daughters, who had both married common peasants, but still
retained an air of good breeding. They appeared before the Governor
weeping, and said: "Our grandfather's wish was to be buried on top of
the Green Hill. But they made his grave at the eastern hill-base, which
is not what he desired. "

Fan Ch'uan-ch? ng had the grave moved and set up two tombstones. He
told the ladies they might change their husbands and marry into the
official classes, but they refused, saying that they were pledged to
isolation and poverty and could not marry again. Fan was so moved by
their reply that he exempted their husbands from national service. A
rescript of the Emperor W? n Tsung created the category of the Three
Paragons: Li Po, of poetry; P'ei Min, of swordsmanship; and Chang Hsu,
of cursive calligraphy.

Most of the accounts of Li Po's life which have hitherto appeared are
based on the biography given in vol. v. of the "Memoires Concernant
Les Chinois. " It is evident that several of the frequently quoted
anecdotes in the "Memoires" are partly based on a misunderstanding of
the Chinese text, partly due to the lively imagination of the Jesuits.
The Sung writer Hsieh Chung-yung arranged in chronological order all
the information about the poet's life that can be gleaned not only from
the T'ang histories, but also from the poems themselves.

In the communications of the Gesellschaft fur Natur und Volkerkunde,
1889, Dr. Florenz makes some rather haphazard and inaccurate selections
from this chronology.