“Waiting for the Unicorn”
(19 JANUARY 1833–20 OCTOBER 1916)
Wang K’ai-yün (Jen-ch’iu; HSIANG-CH’I) was a native of Hsiang-t’an, Hunan province. He became a chü-jen at the early age of twenty-two and worked as an advisor to a government official for a while, but quit when he had a disagreement with his superior. Thereafter, he spent some time in Chengtu, Szechwan province, as president of the Tsun-ching Academy (of Classical Studies). Later he returned to his home province of Hunan, where he presided over the Ssu-hsien Academy at Changsha, and the Ch’uan-shan Academy at Heng-chou. In 1903 he was named a lecturer at the Nanchang School of Higher Learning. Later, he left this position and returned home, where he began receiving students in his own Hsiang-ch’i Study. His reputation for scholarship and personal conduct later earned him a position in the Hanlin Academy. In 1914, he was made director of the National Historical Archives, and a member of the National Senate (Ts’an-yi-yüan). With the eruption of the debate over Restoration, he resigned and retired to his home in Hunan, where he spent the remaining years of his life at ease. As a classicist, he specialized in the study of the Kung-yang chüan (Kung-yang Commentary) to the Ch’un-ch’iu (Spring and Autumn Annals). In addition to the Hsiang-yi-lou shih-chi (Poetry Collection of the Hsiang-yi Pavilion), his numerous publications include the Pa-tai shih-hsüan (Selected Poems of the Eight Dynasties [from Han to Sui]), the T’ang ch’i-yen shih (An Anthology of the Heptasyllabic Poetry of T’ang), two collections of essays and memoranda as well as commentaries on the classics.
While other major poets of the late Ch’ing period tended toward the style of the Sung masters and wrote a good deal of poetry reflecting the issues of their time, Wang K’ai-yün imitated the style of the Han, Wei, and Six Dynasties periods for his old-style verse, and that of the High T’ang for his regulated poems. He is said to have removed from his collected works all the “new-style” quatrains which he had ever written. Some of his poems reflected and documented the turbulence and concerns of late Ch’ing society, such as the “Twenty-two Poems on Setting Out from Ch’i-men,” which were written between 1860 and 1862, when there was much fighting in Anhwei province during the Taiping Rebellion, and the long popular poem “Song of Full Splendor Park,” which describes the destruction of the Yüan-ming Yüan by British and French soldiers in 1860.
Most of these poems, however, are so carefully framed in the style of ancient poets that they could easily pass for ancient works themselves. In fact, the modern critic Ch’en Yen has said of him, “If you mix his verses together with a collection of poems by ancient authors, you could not distinguish his from theirs, and because they are indistinguishable, there is no rationale for their being the poetry of Wang K’ai-yün.”
(Jan W. Walls)
Spring sun shines on springtime dress,
But the spring heart does not know.
Why claim the pain you feel inside
Is not the longing for your love?
“Longing? Surely no such thing!
My feelings are for no one!”
But as you sit with your shadow, an accidental mate,
Dawn has turned to dusk.
(HCLSC, p. 26)
(Tr. Jan and Yvonne Walls)
Since you went away
The face in my shining mirror has lost its glow.
My longing for you is like my rouge,
The fragrance fades away with the years.
(HCLSC, p. 34)
(Tr. Jan and Yvonne Walls)
7. Peking’s Yüan-ming yüan (Full Splendor Park), summer, 1983.
We awaited fair winds at the ford.
I came at dawn to send off your boat.
Spring waves tossed without end,
And my feelings flowed with them.
Sadly I snap a willow twig, and listen to the lonesome flute;
Wearily I hold a mulberry branch and dangle a waiting hook.
Today the ferry takes you across the river;
But when I come to greet you, will you be here?
(HCLSC, p. 28)
(Tr. Jan and Yvonne Walls)
Song of the Full Splendor Park1
As in Ch’in’s imperial Park of Auspicious Spring,2 fleeting are the fireflies;
As in Han’s Palace of Eternal Happiness,3 willows have grown ten times in girth.
Summer palaces, from the earliest ages, were used for pleasure only;
How, then did this—outside the capital—become a royal seat?
Clear and blue is the old lake that flows from Yen and Chi,4 | 5 |
Through Hsi-ma campground, into the Kao-liang River, and across grazing land.5
The Northern Lords once brought peace to this ancient Mongol capital;
From within Western Hill’s folds, the imperial aura reigned supreme.
Then from the nine broad avenues, dust rose, reached the skies,
For the Polestar, too long absent from the Dipper,6 had withdrawn. | 10 |
Once field ditches, like dried inlets, were all caked with mud,
What used to mirror the courtly grandeur: the mere trickles of a stream!
A pool, dark and deep, could only dimly be seen on the banks of Cinnabar Square,7
Where, on these rolling lands, the first to rise was the Garden of Springtime Rapture.8
Springtime Rapture’s scenery rivaled that of the Southern Park;9 | 15 |
Here his phoenix canopy, flying rainbow flags, came often for the fetes.
Even the Earth Spirit did not begrudge the making of Urn Hill Lake.10
The Son of Heaven himself christened it the Hall of Full Splendor.
Full Splendor was first bequeathed to the Submerged Dragon11
Who turned this suburban palace into a royal residence, | 20 |
With eighteen gates and locks12 that hugged a winding stream,
With a seven-pillared Great Hall13 aloft among the pines,
And forty shoreline pavilions, each with its own view.14
Facing zigzagging garden rocks, where breezes seemed to rise.
Carts stopped here as at Sweet Dew,15 to seek relief from summer’s heat; | 25 |
And imperial palace guards could store away their bows in their cases.
Emperor Ch’un,16 succeeding to the throne, surely attained the fullest glory;
No waves disturbed the bays or seas, awaiting his royal tours.
Along his journey where he stopped, four gardens he especially esteemed;17
Those scenes the master painters sketched were replicated true to form. | 30 |
Who can say that fine scenery is found only South of the River?
To shift heaven around or shrink the earth is all within a sovereign’s power.
At first ‘twas only to replicate King Wen’s animal park,18 from the time of Chou;
Who ever counted the meager cost for a Dew Terrace, as did Emperor Wen of Han?19
Earnestly he studied the words of the Duke of Chou20 on curbing extravagance. | 35 |
But who would have thought his descendents21 could forget thrift and reverence?
Suddenly the chuck-chuck22 cries were silenced at the deer enclosure in Jehol,
And evil forebodings spread unseen from the south to the north.23
Officials grew more callous, and people in anguish groaned.
Long whales24 came plowing through the waves, against a ravaged shore. | 40 |
Only then the treasurer began to grieve for the nation’s wealth,
And sought to sell provincial royal residences for ordinance.
Lost in thought, I mull over the affairs of half a century,
When the times were like brushwood piled high near a house ablaze.
Could any have dared to raise bamboo poles against the Ah-fang Palace?25 | 45 |
Many a black ball for the crossbow26 aimed at striking down civilian officials!
Now our late emperor27 first sensed the danger, dark and imminent,
And decreed that three commanders28 be chosen for the field.
But the seat for the worthy was left vacant29 in Emperor Wen’s court;
The Heavenly Altar overflowed with remorse as people bemoaned their fate. | 50 |
Year after year, he saw new grasses spring up by the carriage road,
Here, and then there, he looked on flowers and birds with a grieving heart.
With palace girls he played at pot games to force himself to laugh
And sing as he exchanged wine cups of gold from dusk ‘til dawn.
Through all four seasons, he loved the views from the country estate; | 55 |
In winter’s depth, from inside the palace, he longed for spring to come.
Tremulously, the Four Springtime Maids30 trailed his phoenix carriage;
Furtively, through five night watches, the copper-fish31 was passed from hand to hand.
Court ladies were schooled to coiff their hair in the style of the Ts’ui family;32
As admonition, many would have removed earrings to emulate Empress Chiang.33 | 60 |
Soon the Royal Boulevard34 came to mourn the creakings of an imperial coach;
At Golden Phoenix Palace, none cared to talk about affairs after dark.
From Tripod Lake,35 bowmen and soldiers returned heavy with grief;
The country fort, put to a torch, vanished in wind and smoke.
Jeweled Spring sobs and grieves; Kunming Pool is choked. | 65 |
Alone the bronze rhinoceros stands guard among the thorns;
About Blue Magic-Mushroom Cavern,36 foxes cry as night comes on.
Beneath Brocade Ripples Bridge,37 fishes still weep in vain.
Ah, who is this aged eunuch, guarding the gate of the Garden of the Blest?38
Once among the nobles and ministers, he served the Most Exalted One. | 70 |
In those days long past, he loathed the clamorous courtiers;
In these days of solitude, he greets all visitors with glee.
How unlike the clamorous courtiers are the lonely sightseers!
Guests come rarely now, none deemed worthy of admittance.
The Gate of the Good and Worthy39 is shut; scattered lie its broken tiles. | 75 |
Luminous Splendor Hall40 now gutted, one must search out its ruined walls.
Here stood the Hall of Clear Light, newly built by Emperor Wen,41
Close by the shoreline of the lake, to catch the light of dawn,
Where a forest deity, in an ominous dream, declined the royal offer of courtly rank;42
And scattered, too, lies a replica of Sravasti Castle, the Buddha’s seat.43 | 80 |
Rank and tall grow millet and cattails in the lake;
Before the steps, reeds and mugwort rustle with the wind.
Men steal new growth from withered trees for firewood;
Joyous fish leap up in play, and are startled by fishermen’s nets.
Beside all this, there stood the Terraces of Open Cloud and the Ornamented Moon44 | 85 |
Where once, in a world at peace, three sage emperors45 met together.
Could they foresee how scattered bamboo shoots would break through the moss?
Or how we still see spring blooms weep with dewdrops in full flower?
From Level Lake westward, we see the remains of kiosks and pavilions,
And calligraphic specimens on walls resembling silver hooks or bent leeks. | 90 |
On gold-tiered steps, pair by pair, the lily feet of palace girls;
On papered windows here and there, traces of mascara still remain.
When the British came, the ruler fled in haste on bell-bedecked camels;
Left behind to guard the palace were the painted women who served him at night.
Low notes sounded from reed pipes as he followed the autumn moon; | 95 |
Starving, without even rice and bean gruel to eat, he fixed his gaze on Jehol.46
The Upper Gate was opened to let the barbarians pass through;
To receive them, the lords and princes lined the left side of the palace road.
Before the enemy troops torched the maize about Yung Gate,47
The herdsmen had already seen the beacon fires lit atop Mount Li.48 | 100 |
How piteous the one loyal minister who perished alone on the Magic Isle,49
To uphold his moral principles, worthy of the ancient Ling-chün!50
While ministers shunned the foe to survive under a white flag,
Commoners fought the brigands to the death, guarding the gate.
Now the rancour of the Sea of the Blest is as deep as the ocean, | 105 |
Who can believe that from the Sacred Isle51 the deities have not departed?
From success to ruin in a hundred years, how swift and sudden!
In all directions, wasted remains spread before our eyes.
To the Purple Forbidden City with its crimson gates, the court can still return;
But has anyone heard of river swallows nesting among trees in the forest? | 110 |
Look well on these ruined roofs, these felled foundation stones!
Hardships and dangers teach that rebuilding a nation is hard.
The Censors already rebuked for prattling about repairs,
Stop the officials from amassing silks and rich brocades!
Silks and brocades squander in vain revenues from South of the River, | 115 |
With designs, new and old, of mandarin ducks and dragon’s claws!
Let the grand palace gates be overhung with gorgeous hangings,
How could they hope to surpass the West Lake Boulevard of days long past?
The land around West Lake is too thin to compare with Hsün-hsia’s;52
Even the mansion of the Marquis of Wu-ch’ing has only a short lease,53 | 120 |
Just make the grain and fishes sufficient for the people’s use
Never allow the warblers in the willows to vie with palace blooms.
How can a modern lyricist understand the discourse “On the Merits of A Capital”?54
A cart pushed by hand can never alter the royal course.55
The poet Hsiang-ju could claim the fame of eulogizing an imperial park,56 | 125 |
Born to such hapless times, I mourn this sorrow here in vain.
(HYLSC, pp. 336–340)
(Tr. Irving Lo and Kenneth Yasuda)
NOTES
1. The countryside around Hai-tien, northwest of Peking, was known for its scenic beauty even before there was a capital. Both under the Liao and Chin dynasties, during the eleventh and twelfth centuries, and under the Ming, the area had served as the site of imperial hunting grounds and summer lodges. The first ruler of Ch’ing, Emperor Shun-chih, had the place refurbished as a hunting park, which was known as the Southern Park (Nan-yüan). But it was Emperor K’ang-hsi (q.v.) who started the building program of what was later known as the Yüan-ming yüan, here translated as the “Full Splendor Park.” It was he who enlarged the park by incorporating into it the mansion and grounds occupied by the family of Li Wei, the Marquis of Wu-ch’ing, who was the father-in-law of the Ming Emperor Ch’ung-chen (see line 120 of the poem). The first palace constructed by Emperor K’ang-hsi was named Ch’ang-ch’un Yüan, or the Garden of Springtime Rapture.
Real large-scale expansion of the Yüan-ming Yüan, however, did not start until after 1701, under the reign of Emperor Yung-cheng. Emperor Ch’ien-lung (q.v.), an eclectic architectural genius, added greater opulence to the site by elaborately replicating the sceneries of famous gardens he had visited in the south during his many tours of the provinces. He also had the service of the sinicized Italian painter J. Castiglione (Lang Shih-ning, his Chinese name, 1688–1766) and a Frenchman, P. Michel Benoist (Chiang Yu-jen, 1715–1744) to supervise the construction of a few Baroque-style European buildings. Toward the end of the Ch’ien-lung era, in 1793, Sir John Barrow was one of the first Westerners invited to stay in the park, as a member of Lord Macartney’s mission to China; in his Travels in China, published in 1804, he described the general appearance of the summer palace: “The grounds of Yuen-min-yuen [i.e., Yüan-ming Yüan] are calculated to comprehend an extent of at least ten English miles in diameter, or about sixty thousand acres, a great part of which, however, is wastes and woodland” (p. 122).
As a result of the abrogation of the Treaty of Tientsin by the Chinese in 1859, France and England declared war on the Ch’ing government. Led by Lord Elgin and Baron Gros, an expeditionary force of 6,300 French troops and 10,500 English soldiers was dispatched to China, with the naval force consisting of over sixty French ships and 146 British transports. An extraordinary event of this war was the total destruction of the Summer Palace, which burned for two days, 18–19 October 1860, and which was preceded by days of plundering. These events were recorded by an eyewitness, Lieutenant-Colonel Garnet J. Wolseley, writing in his Narrative of the War With China in 1860 (published in 1862):
Sir Hope Grant, accompanied by Lord Elgin, rode thither . . . [and joined by General Mountauban] . . . proceeded together until they reached the large village of Hai-teen (Hai-tien). . . . About twenty badly-armed eunuchs made some pretence of resistance, but were quickly disposed of, and the doors burst open, disclosing the sacred precincts of his Majesty’s residence. . . . A mine of wealth and of everything curious in the empire lay as a prey before our French allies. . . . Indiscriminate plunder and wanton destruction of all articles too heavy for removal commenced at once. . . . Officers and men seemed to have been seized with a temporary insanity; in body and soul they were absorbed in one pursuit, which was plunder, plunder, [pp. 224–227]
Upon the 18th [of] October, the 1st division, under the command of Major-General Sir John Michel, marched from our camp near Pekin to Yüan-ming-yuen, and set fire to all the royal palaces. . . . Throughout the whole of the day and the day following, a dense cloud of black and heavy smoke hung over those scenes of former magnificence. . . . [U]pon both of those days, the light was so subdued by the overhanging clouds of smoke, that it seemed as if the sun was undergoing a lengthened eclipse. . . . [pp. 278–279]
It was averred the complete destruction of the palaces would be a Gothlike act of barbarism. It seems strange that this idea did not occur to the generally quick perceptions of our Gallic allies before they had shorn the place of all its beauty and ornament, by the removal or reckless destruction of everything that was valuable within its precincts, leaving us, indeed, little more than the bare shell of the building to wreak our vengeance for the cruelties practised therein upon our ill-fated countrymen.
By the evening of the 19th October, the summer palaces had ceased to exist, and in their immediate vicinity, the very face of nature seemed changed: some blackened gables and piles of burnt timbers alone indicating where the royal palaces had stood. In many places the inflammable pine trees near the buildings had been consumed with them, leaving nothing but their charred trunks to mark the site. When we first entered the gardens they reminded one of those magic grounds described in fairy tales; we marched from them upon the 19th October, leaving them a dreary waste of ruined nothings, [pp. 279–280]
This poem is here translated from Wang Kai-yün’s collected works, where it was printed without a prose preface. A prose preface to this song written by the poet’s contemporary, a fellow Hunanese, Hsü Shu-chün, appears in some editions, as it does in Ch’en Yen’s Chin-tai shih-ch’ao (1:343–347). Because of its length and the fact that it was not written by Wang, we have omitted it. However, many of the historical facts mentioned therein and useful for the elucidation of the poem have been incorporated into our notes.
2. Yi-ch’un Yüan, the name of the imperial park of the Ch’in dynasty. In both this line and the next, the poet attempts to evoke the lesson of history by these allusions.
3. Chien-chang and Ch’ang-lo (Eternal Happiness) are both names of Han palaces.
4. Yen is the name of the area around Peking at the time of the Chou dynasty; Chi-hsien was the name given to the place known as Ta-hsing under the Chin, in the eleventh century.
5. The place called Hsi-ma-lin-pao, with its forest and fortress, is located 70 li northwest of Wan-ch’üan hsien in present-day Hopei province and only 20 li from the border; it had served as a cavalry training ground since Yüan times. The Kao-liang River is an upper tributary of the Jeweled River (Yü-ho), west of Wan-p’ing hsien, close by Jeweled Spring Hill (Yü-ch’üan Shan).
6. This line contains the names of two stars: ch’en-chi, the Polestar, which since Han times has often been used by poets to symbolize the emperor; and Pei-tou, or the Dipper, which could represent the capital (as it does in many of Tu Fu’s poems). This line probably means that the emperor had taken flight from the capital.
7. The poet indicates his presence with this line. On Sunday, 28 May 1871, Wang K’ai-yün visited the Park in the company of two friends—Chang San (whose courtesy-name was Tzu-yü), and Hsü Shu-chün, probably the brother of the poet Hsü Shu-ming (?-1900)]—and toured the site with the Park’s Superintendant Commander Liao Ch’eng-en. Hsü’s prose preface to this poem is dated “Autumn, 1871.” This poem, then, must have been written between May 28 and September or October of the same year. Tan-lin is the name of the river, upon the banks of which Emperor K’ang-hsi built his Ch’ang-ch’un Yüan on the property once belonging to the Marquis of Wu-ch’ing.
8. Ch’ang-ch’un Yüan, completed in the last decade of the seventeenth century.
9. Nan-yüan, referring to Emperor Shun-chih’s hunting park.
10. In 1751, to celebrate his mother’s sixtieth birthday, a lake was made by Emperor Ch’ien-lung at the foot of Weng-shan; hence, the hill is also known as Wan-shou Shan (Longevity Hill). The lake is K’un-ming Lake.
11. The Hall of Full Splendor (Yüan-ming Tien) was completed in 1709; before succeeding to the throne, Emperor Yung-cheng lived in a palace called Lung-ch’ien Shih-shih, meaning “A Dragon Submerged [and] Timely Bestowed” Garden.
12. The park has eighteen gates, some made of bamboo and some made of iron, including sluice gates for the water control system.
13. The largest of the three main halls is called the Cheng-ta kuang-ming tien (The Hall of Great Uprightness and Luminous Splendor), the Hall of Audience mentioned in the accounts of Westerners. Sir John Barrow described it as being “110 feet in length by forty-two feet in width, and twenty feet in height, with a floor paved with grey marble flag stones laid chequer-wise” (Barrow, Travels in China, p. 125).
14. The Summer Palace was celebrated for its “Forty Magnificent Views.” Compare Yü-chih Yüan-ming yüan shih (Poems on the Yüan-ming Yüan by Imperial Command) compiled under Ch’ien-lung’s reign—a small anthology of forty poems, each written on a specific scene.
15. Kan-lu (Sweet Dew) is the name of the summer palace of Emperor Wu of Han (reg. 141–87 B.C.).
16. “Kao-tsung Ch’un Huang-ti” is the temple name of the Ch’ien-lung Emperor.
17. Referring to the An-lan Garden of Hai-ning and the Hsiao-yü-t’ien Garden, both of Ch’ien-t’ang (near Hangchow); the Chan Garden of Chiang-ning (Nanking); and the Shih-tzu (Lions) Garden of Soochow. Emperor K’ang-hsi made six southern tours during his reign, in 1684, 1689, 1699, 1703, 1705, and 1707.
18. Ling-yu alludes to probably the earliest animal park mentioned in Chinese literature, the “Ling-t’ai” of King Wen of Chou, celebrated in Ode 242 of the Shih-ching (Arthur Waley’s “Magic Tower,” in The Book of Songs, pp. 259–260; Sunflower Splendor, pp. 14–15)
19. This alludes to the story about Emperor Wen of Han (reg. 180–157 B.C.) who inquired about the cost of building a “Dew Terrace” (lu-t’ai). He gave up the idea when he learned that it would cost 100 gold pieces, which (the emperor said) would equal the wealth of ten middle-income families.
20. The text reads Wu-yi, a chapter in the Shang-shu, which contains the words of the Duke of Chou to King Ch’eng on the difficulties of farming and on the importance of thrift.
21. Referring to the two succeeding emperors: Chia-ch’ing (reg. 1796–1820) and Tao-kuang (reg. 1821–1850).
22. The text reads mu-lan, which, in the Manchu language, indicates a kind of whistling sound used to call deer. This refers to the annual autumn hunt which took place at the royal family’s Summer Palace in Jehol Province, the famous Pi-shu Shan-chuang (in modern-day Ch’eng-te, just a short distance outside the Great Wall).
23. The text reads li and k’an, from the Yi-ching, representing respectively “the South” and “the North,” which refer to the White Lotus Rebellion (1796–1804), which ravaged northwest China, and the Opium War (1840–1842) and Taiping Rebellion (1850–1864), which ravaged the South.
24. Ch’ang-ching (long whales): a euphemism for British gunboats.
25. Ah-fang is the name of the extensive palace built by Ch’in Shih Huang-ti. The dynasty was overthrown in 206 B.C. by peasant rebellions, and one of the leaders, Ch’en She, was said to have used only weapons improvised from hoes and tree branches.
26. This alludes to a story in the “Biographies of Harsh Officials” in the Hou-Han-shu, chüan 90: In an uprising against the harsh official Yi Shang, a band of young people gathered and decided to draw lots to determine the responsibilities of each person. Those who drew red balls from a bag were to kill military officials; those drawing black balls, the civilian officials; those drawing white balls were to keep a record of the funerals.
27. Emperor Wen, whose reign title was Hsien-feng (reg. 1851–1861).
28. The three commanders were the Manchu noble Sheng-pao (d. 1863), who had been successful in the suppression of the Nien Rebellion, and who later sustained a mortal injury at T’ung-chou, fighting the British and the French (cf. Ch’ing-shih-kao, chüan 403); Tseng Kuo-fan, the founder of the Hunan Army, which resisted Taiping rebels; and Yüan Chia-san (1806–1863).
29. Referring to the tragic story of Chia Yi who was first favored by Emperor Wen of Han as an honored guest and then maligned and exiled to Chang-sha where he died at age thirty-two.
30. The four favorite concubines of Emperor Hsien-feng all had names ending with the word ch’un (springtime); they were: Almond Blossom Springtime (hsing-hua ch’un), Wu-ling Springtime, Mu-tan (Peony) Springtime, and Hai-t’ang (Crabapple) Springtime.
31. Copper-fish was a kind of tally used to identify visitors to the living quarters of the palace.
32. An as yet unidentifiable fashion for a palace hairdo then favored by the emperor.
33. Empress Hsiao-chen (d. 1881), whose title was conferred on her in 1860, was known to be virtuous and upright. She once removed her hairpin, as a sign of admonition to the emperor for his dissolute life. The allusion is to the story in the Lieh-nü chüan about King Hsüan of Chou who had the habit of getting up late. Empress Chiang removed her hairpin and stood in an alley to confess that it was all her fault. The king then admitted his own failings and began to apply himself diligently to the affairs of state and became responsible for the reinvigoration of the dynasty.
34. The text reads: yü-lu (literally “jade road”) referring to the boulevard that led from the West Gate (Hsi-chih men) to Hai-tien. The construction of this road impressed more than one Western observer. According to G. J. Wolseley, it was “. . . a well-made road, constructed after the most approved method, being slightly raised in the centre and having good drains upon either side. Were it not that it is unmetalled, one might fancy it an English thoroughfare. It is the only one of the sort I have ever seen in China.” (Wolseley, p. 228)
35. Alluding to the death of Emperor Hsien-feng in 1861. See Wu Wei-yeh, note 1.
36. The text reads Ch’ing-chih hsiu, referring to the three characters in Emperor Ch’ien-lung’s calligraphy inscribed on a tablet.
37. A bridge south of the Wen-ch’ang Pavilion.
38. An old eunuch, with the surname of Tung, said to be over seventy, whom the poet interviewed in the late spring of 1871, when this poem was written.
39. The southern gate of the park is called the Hsien-liang Men.
40. See note 13 above.
41. Ch’ing-hui T’ang, built by Emperor Hsien-feng.
42. According to the preface to this poem, written by Hsü Shu-chün, one year before the burning of the Summer Palace, Emperor Hsien-feng had a dream in which a white-haired old man identified himself as the Park Deity. The emperor in his dream offered the deity the title of Second Rank, but the deity bade the emperor farewell and left.
43. The city of Che-wei refers to Sravasti, “the city of famous things,” said to be a favorite resort of Sakyamuni, the Jetvana garden being located there.
44. K’ai-yün (Open Cloud) and Lou-yüeh (Ornamented Moon) Terraces were two of the forty famous scenes of the park.
45. According to the account given to the poet, in 1721, when the future emperor Ch’ien-lung, then aged eleven (twelve sui), was brought into the presence of his father, the future emperor Yung-cheng, Emperor K’ang-hsi was also there for the occasion.
46. Before the allied troops entered Peking, the royal party fled to their Summer Palace in Jehol, where the emperor died the next year.
47. This alludes to a story in the Tso-chuan (Eighteenth Year of Duke Hsiang; or 554 B.C.). When the state of Ch’i was attacked by the combined forces of Tsin and Lu—the Marquis of Ch’i loved music and was an irresolute ruler—the enemy forces approached Yung Gate and cut down the fields of southernwood about the gate and put them to the torch.
48. Alluding to the practice of lighting beacon fires atop Li-shan in ancient times when China’s capital was located near present-day Sian.
49. P’eng Isle was located in the center of the Sea of the Blest (Fu-hai),the largest lake in the park. Wen-feng, the official who committed suicide by drowning in the lake, rather than surrender, was a Han Chinese originally named Tung, who in 1854 was made Grand Councilor of the Imperial Household (nei-wu-fu). Wen-feng, who had previously served as Textile Commissioner in both Hangchow and Soochow and participated in negotiations with the British over the governance of Treaty Ports in 1843, was promoted to become Superintendent of Yüan-ming Yüan in 1858. He was also placed in charge of the imperial dispensary and hospital (Ch’ing-shih-kao, chüan 494).
50. It is, of course, poetic license to compare Wen-feng to the ancient poet Ch’ü Yüan, the author of Li Sao, who drowned himself in 278 B.C. (Ling-chün was the poet’s courtesy-name).
51. The text reads Shen-chou, which stands for China.
52. This alludes to a story in the Tso-chuan (Sixth Year of Duke Ch’eng; or 584 B.C.). The statesman Han Hsien-tzu persuaded the duke to abandon the proposal to move the capital to the land of Hsün-hsia, an area near salt marshes, which he described as “thin in soil and shallow in water.” His other advice to the duke was: “Mountains, marshes, forests, and salt-grounds are indeed most precious to a state, but when the country is rich and fruitful, the people grow proud and lazy.” (James Legge, Chinese Classics, volume 5, page 360.)
53. See note 1 above.
54. The text reads Lün-tu-fu, alluding to the story about Tu Tu in the Hou-Han-shu (chüan 80A), who persuaded Han Kao-tsu not to consider moving the capital to Loyang.
55. Alluding to the story about Liu Ching (or Lou Ching) in the Shih-chi (chüan 99), who stopped the carriage of a general in order to plead for a chance to speak to Emperor Kao of Han. Lou Ching also advised the emperor against moving the capital to Loyang. Here the allusion seems to have been directed at the repeated attempts by many scholar-officials to remonstrate with the throne, during the seventies, against the plan of rebuilding the Summer Palace.
56. Ssu-ma Hsiang-ju, the celebrated poet of the Han dynasty, is the author of the “Shang-lin fu,” a rhyme prose composition on the grandeur of the imperial park. Cf. Burton Watson, Early Chinese Literature (New York: Columbia University Press, 1952), pp. 273–284.
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