The Rose

AUTHOR’S GAB, READER TALK.

A LETTER TO YOU, THE READER, SO THAT YOU CAN FINALLY FIGURE OUT WHAT I’M THINKING.

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THIS MONTH: The Literati

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Dear Reader,

If the Chinese are known for one thing, it is for their wisdom. Countless Western stories cite Chinese proverbs like they are unfathomable, mysterious truths, prevalent to any situation. Even if an American knows nothing about China, he or she will most likely be wary of Chinese wisdom. Chinese wisdom, however, is nothing more than intellectual debate.

A centuries-old tradition, the Chinese scholarly-elite, or just known simply as the “literati” during Song and Ming times, have dedicated their lives to amassing knowledge of Chinese classics, passing government examinations and serving and advising the emperor in their official posts (if they passed those examinations!). Considered like Americans might view becoming a doctor or a lawyer today, government positions were seen as the most desirable profession in ancient Chinese society, simultaneously making intellectuals the most respected people. Thus, many committed their lives to passing the government examinations from the Han dynasty onward, creating a fascination in Chinese culture with acquiring moral wisdom. Whomever had the best argument, in ancient Chinese society, won, even, it might be said, militarily.

The tradition of the scholarly-elite did not begin in Chinese society, however, until the Eastern Zhou dynasty (770-256 B.C.), especially during the Spring and Autumn period (722-481 B.C.). The king (the Chinese king wasn’t known as “emperor” until the next dynasty), after previously parceling out parts of the country to friends and supporters, now faced overpowering regional lords poised to overtake his throne; and, weakened as he was, there was nothing to do but stand by and watch. Each regional lord, realizing the king no longer had any real power and eager to claim the throne for himself, began to strategize how to out-muscle the other “states”. Their first step was to employ a set of skilled, intellectual advisors, who helped them build stronger states. Once a state had a successful system, it began conquering its neighbors.

These scholars, then, rose quickly in the ranks of Chinese society, and, depending the demand for their ideas, could move freely from state to state. Whichever scholar had the best-working ideas and arguments could essentially determine the next king of China, so their support of a state was crucial. Several schools of thought emerged during this period which would have a lasting impact, including Legalism, Confucianism and Daoism. While Legalism ended up helping the state of Qin conquer the rest of China, Confucianism, with its emphasis on education, and Daoism, with its emphasis on finding “The Way”, the simple but correct path, most resounded with intellectuals.

Hundreds of years later, during Song times (907-1276 A.D.), with the traditional ideal of the scholarly elite firmly grounded in China, “the scholar-official elite had attained remarkable social, political and cultural importance and marked China as different from other major societies of Eurasia” (Buckley Ebrey 149). This meant men were now elected to the most important posts based on their literary abilities and intellectual breadth. That is, if a man could read, write, study and pass his examinations, he could hold a seat of great power (hence the importance of Chinese wisdom). These men became known as the literati.

The literati’s abilities were not solely governmental, however. Many of them also wrote books on science, technology, medicine, philosophy, music and (get this) poetry. Like a college student might pick a speciality today, Chinese literati often took time to master and comment on a particular subject, including the arts. In fact, a literati’s character was often graded on his mastery of topics like painting, calligraphy and creative writing (Britannica). So, essentially, even in dynasties earlier than the Song, Chinese writers were also literati. In fact, during the Ming dynasty (1368-1644),

“great literati painters like Shen Zhou, Wen Zhenming and Dong Qichang were scholars thoroughly familiar with the classics, the works of the great poets, and the styles of former poets and calligraphers; and they tried to imbue with meaning the landscapes, gardens, trees, rocks or other scenes they depicted” (Buckley Ebrey 201).

Dong Qichang, who coined the term, “literati”, is particularly known for his writings on Chinese painting (Britannica).

The picture above is by Chinese painter and Ming loyalist Zhu Da, who resolved to stop talking after the Manchus founded the Qing dynasty. One of my favorites, I like this picture for its eccentricity, but I also like  it because painting was Zhu’s way of “writing”. According to the Metropolitan Museum of Art (MOMA), in this picture, he expresses his feelings over the lost Ming dynasty:

“The seemingly innocuous subject, a garden pond framed by two ornamental rocks, becomes, in his rendition, profoundly unsettling. Were it not for seven tiny fish that swim beneath the two rock forms, transforming the blank paper into a body of water, the image would be unrecognizable. Six of the fish are shown in profile, but the seventh appears as if seen from above, leaving the viewer disoriented; the absence of a horizon line adds to the unsettling effect. Treating the image as a calligraphic design, (Zhu) juxtaposes large and small, solid and void, and heavy and light, creating a tension between flat shapes and three-dimensional volumes that heightens the disturbing quality.”

One of the most famous pieces of Chinese literature (and there are quite a few), is the Dream of Red Mansions. “A 120-chapter novel conceived and substantially written by Cao Xueqin (1715-64)” (Buckley Ebrey 232), this great fictional work chronicles the affairs of the Jia family in soap-opera-ish, precise detail. If there were t.v. series in colonial China, this would be it. Following a love triangle between three, related, teenage characters, Jia Baoyu (boy), Lin Daiyu (girl) and Xue Baochai (girl), Cao weaves a tale about arranged marriage, true love and a higher calling. The novel has piqued Chinese imagination so much that there is now, ironically, a t.v. series on it.

Chinese poetry also had a similar effect. According to Chinese historian Patricia Ebrey, perhaps the most notable poets came from the Tang dynasty (618-907), including Wang Wei, Li Bai, Du Fu, Bai Juyi and Li Shangyin. During this period, “almost all educated men wrote an occasional poem, and poetic composition was tested on the most prestigious civil service examinations, the jinshi, or ‘presented scholar’ exam” (120). At least 48,900 poems by 2,200 poets have survived from this “golden age”, including 300 poems, which are the most famous, now memorized by Chinese children as a part of their education (Riha 1).

The most popular Tang poet was Li Bai (701-762) is famous for his poems defying convention. I really like his poem, “Drinking Alone with the Moon”, which, like many other poems during this period, talks about companionship. It goes something like this:

From a pot of wine among the flowers

I drank alone. There was no one with me—

Till, raising my cup, I asked the bright moon

To bring me my shadow and make us three.

Alas, the moon was unable to drink

And my shadow tagged me vacantly;

But still for a while I had these friends

To cheer me through the end of spring…

I sang. The moon encouraged me.

I danced. My shadow tumbled after.

As long as I knew, we were born companions.

And then I was drunk, and we lost one another.

…Shall goodwill ever be secure?

I watch the long road of the River of Stars.

Today, Chinese writing continues to play an integral role in Chinese society. Writers who were silenced during Mao Zedong’s reign have since been freed and topics have taken on a more literal, Western feel. Nevertheless, Chinese authors, like Su Shuyang and Lu Xun, continue to reveal grassroots topics in China and perpetuate the tradition of intellectual Chinese culture.

So, how does one use Chinese wisdom in writing? Personally, I think it’s tackling hard topics, even if they are critical, thinking through every idea thoroughly and debating that idea’s accuracy with other people. Also, it’s having patience to see if your idea will stand the test of time and criticism and if people will accept it. In other words, carefully refine what you are going to write, for you don’t know what kind of affect it may have in the end.

I hope you enjoyed this month’s Ad-Lib! I have been taking a course on Chinese history this month, and this is what I have learned in regards to writing. Trust me, it took a lot of thought! Until next time!!!

Sincerely, Your Author,

Jessica Anne McLean

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Works Cited:

Buckley Ebrey, Patricia. The Cambridge Illustrated History of China. 2nd ed. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1996, 2010. Print.