The Banished Immortal Read online

  Finally Bai realized that he couldn’t buy lasting friendship with money. He was lying miserably in bed. Dansha tried desperately to nurse him back to health, but in vain. They were both starving now. Fortunately, a local official named Meng Rong, an admirer of Li Bai’s poetry, came to his aid. As soon as Rong heard that Bai was in town, he hurried over to see him. He gave Bai some cash and helped him settle his arrears with the tavern. Rong was the deputy magistrate of Guangling County, which was part of Yangzhou. The owner of the tavern knew Meng Rong and from then on treated Li Bai decently. Rong also sent for a doctor, and within a month Li Bai recovered. Together Rong and Bai visited Buddhist temples and historic sites, which show up in Bai’s poems. Rong advised Bai to stop wandering and seeking the appreciation of those men who were inferior to him in every aspect except for the posts they held. Rong knew office-seekers who had ruined themselves that way, becoming bankrupt and utterly lost, so he believed that Bai should first find a home or a haven that could act as a solid base. Rong had some friends in the official circle and suggested that Bai go to An Prefecture, more than three hundred miles west of Yangzhou.

  Rong knew the renowned Xu family in Anlu, the capital of An Prefecture. The Xus had a daughter, who was in her mid-twenties and was still unmarried. We don’t know her given name, though we do know that she later became Bai’s wife. Over the previous three generations, her family had produced many preeminent statesmen. Her great-grandfather had been a classmate of Emperor Gaozu, and her grandfather, Xu Yushi, had been a chancellor at the Tang court. Xu Yushi, however, had been demoted and banished from the capital because of his attempt to protect his son—who had killed a man in a hunting accident—from charges of manslaughter. Yushi was demoted to a far-off prefecture and eventually managed to return to his hometown of Anlu. It is recorded that while serving as a prefect, he was known for his leniency—when he found his subordinates involved in corruption, instead of punishing them he would give them a verse titled “Poem About Cleanness” so that they might repent their wrongdoings and reform themselves.

  That was almost half a century back, and the Xus were no longer as prominent. Still, because they were a wealthy and renowned family, it was not easy for a man to join them by marrying their only daughter. As a result, Miss Xu had almost become an old maid by the standards of the period. Her father, Squire Xu, had asked Meng Rong to keep an eye out for a suitable match for his daughter. Rong worshiped Li Bai, who he believed was “overflowing with talent and lofty aspiration.” He was convinced that Bai would become a great poet, “as famous as Chen Zi’ang,” as he said to Squire Xu, so when he told Bai about Miss Xu’s family in Anlu, he had him in mind as a prospective bridegroom for her.

  Li Bai, however, was not inclined to marry now—he felt he had not yet accomplished anything and it was not time for him to settle down. Moreover, he felt uncomfortable “marrying into” a family and living under his in-laws’ roof. Tang marriage law didn’t even mention this kind of union, which meant it was abnormal and looked down upon. The accepted custom was for a successful man to bring home his bride, who ideally should be a daughter from one of the five most prestigious clans in the country: the Wangs (in Taiyuan), the Zhengs (in Henan), the Lis (in southeastern Gansu and southern Hebei), the Cuis (in Qing-he, Hebei), and the Fans (in central Hebei). The daughters of those clans were better educated and more capable of managing social life, and could bring wealth and powerful connections to their husbands.

  Despite his uneasiness Li Bai agreed to go to Anlu, which was closer to Chang’an, the Tang capital. Meng Rong had friends in An Prefecture who should be able to help Bai get a post. Rong couldn’t leave his work to travel with Bai, so he wrote a letter of recommendation that could secure help for him along the way.

  MARRIAGE

  Li Bai didn’t go to Anlu directly. He traveled westward hesitantly, accompanied by Dansha. Anxious about the prospect of marriage, he seemed to avoid Anlu and sailed farther north along the Han River to Xiangyang. He had heard that the great poet Meng Haoran (689–740) lived in that area, and Bai wanted to visit him. At the time, Meng Haoran was equal in fame to Wang Wei (699–761), the two often being referred to as the best living nature poets. But Meng had failed repeatedly in the civil-service examination, whereas Wang Wei had passed on the first attempt and become a court official at age twenty-one, in part because he was from a well-connected aristocratic family. Despondent, Meng Haoran returned to the countryside to care for his parents. After they passed away, he became a recluse in Deer-Gate Mountain near Xiangyang Town. Li Bai had long been fascinated by this legendary town, where several master statesmen had stayed in seclusion before they came out to serve their lords.

  Though Meng Haoran was a provincial, many capital poets appreciated his poetry. Their acceptance made him all the more extraordinary. He was twelve years Li Bai’s senior but received the young man with open arms. He had a small farm and a house, both of which he had inherited from his parents. He cleared a room for Bai and his pageboy. Bai loved Haoran’s properties, where the Mengs had over the decades planted more than a thousand fruit trees—orange, peach, date, and pear. A brook flowed by the fields—Haoran often sat fishing by the waterside after sunset. During the day he and Bai read each other’s poems, and at night they talked about the ancients they admired and about the capital poets, whose works they found lacked vitality and life experience. They were both from humble origins and had come to the poetry scene from the margins, without the privileges the court poets enjoyed. Bai was delighted that he and his host had similar tastes and opinions. Haoran was especially fond of the ease and freshness of Bai’s poetry. He was also fascinated by the distinct poetic personality manifested in Bai’s work, which differed from anything he had read before.1 Bai was particularly pleased to find that they shared similar political ambitions. In spite of his seclusion and self-sufficient farmer’s life, Haoran insisted that the palace was “still on his mind and he would like to serve a good and wise emperor.” That was exactly what Li Bai intended to do. Though by disposition they were very different—Bai would never engage in farmwork, viewing nature as mainly a religious and aesthetic space—their shared vision cemented their friendship, which was to last a lifetime.

  Bai wrote several poems about Meng Haoran to express his deep feelings for him. One of them declares:

  吾愛孟夫子 風流天下聞

  紅顏棄軒冕 白首臥鬆雲

  醉月頻中聖 迷花不事君

  高山安可仰 徒此揖清芬

  《赠孟浩然》

  I love Master Meng,

  Whose gallantry is known everywhere.

  When young, he despised carriages and crowns;

  White-haired, he lounges against pines and clouds.

  In moonlit nights he gets drunk in an elegant manner

  And possessed by flowers, he won’t serve the emperor.

  I can’t praise enough this man who’s like a high mountain,

  So all I can do is clasp my hands to show my respect.

  “FOR MENG HAORAN”

  Bai told Haoran about his possible marriage, for which he was supposed to go to Anlu. To his surprise, his friend urged him to accept Miss Xu if he liked her, because her family was affluent and well connected. It would be foolish for Bai to continue to bumble around seeking patronage. To Haoran, the whole business of ganye was a joke, a way for young talents to waste their money and lives. Bai had better put down roots in Anlu and wait for a good opportunity to come to him there instead of hunting for it. What’s more, it was said that the Xus had a magnificent collection of books. By all means Bai should consider the marriage seriously.

  So a few days later, Li Bai left Deer-Gate Mountain for Anlu. Anlu was in the northeast of Hubei and had a slightly sloping landscape—endless farmland spread across the south, while hills and mountains rose in the north. It was connected with China’s cent
ral plain through both roads and waterways. Traditionally Anlu was viewed as Hubei’s gateway to the central plain. Li Bai’s feelings about the town had changed some, thanks to Meng Haoran’s positive words about it. When Bai reached Anlu, he ran into Yuan Danqiu, a friend he had known on his visit to Mount Emei back in Sichuan. Bai had always admired this man, calling him a “carefree fellow” who had a mild, detached manner. Yuan Danqiu was a Daoist master, and was rarely seen outside of Mount Song (the site of the modern Shaolin Temple), where he had secluded himself. We don’t have the dates of Danqiu’s birth and death or many facts of his life other than the few recorded by Li Bai, in whose works there are at least eleven poems about this man. In the introduction to one of his poems, Li Bai writes, “Nothing can surpass our long friendship and deep feelings for each other.”

  It happened that Danqiu had a friend in Anlu named Ma Zhenghui who was an officer in charge of the military affairs of An Prefecture. Danqiu had come to visit Officer Ma. Knowing that Bai had been looking for a position, Danqiu introduced him to the officer right away. Ma liked Li Bai—although he was a military man, he was quite literary—and expressed his willingness to help the poet. According to Bai’s own account, Ma commended Bai to his subordinates, saying, “Li Bai’s writings are fresh, carefree and abundant, packed with marvelous words and expressions. His poems and essays glow and vibrate, every sentence shining and translucent with emotion and senses. Absolutely moving.”2 Being the top officer in the prefecture, Ma held real power and was involved in civilian affairs as well. He knew the Xu family well and told Bai that he ought to count his blessings if he could marry Squire Xu’s daughter, who was pretty, intelligent, capable, and good-natured, and would make an excellent wife. Though the Xus were no longer powerful, the family was wealthy and prestigious. Li Bai was pleased to see an important man like Officer Ma support him.

  Unexpectedly, Meng Rong came to Anlu from Yangzhou. His timely visit was meant to facilitate Li Bai’s meeting with the Xus. It is likely that Squire Xu had urged him to come and serve as the matchmaker. Bai was delighted by his friend Rong’s arrival in Anlu, where he felt he had been received warmly and could imagine himself staying. Rong took him to the Xus’ residence. Bai’s meeting with the family went well: although Squire Xu was unsure of his guest’s family background (Li Bai claimed that his genealogical record was lost), he was struck by the young man’s learning and good manners. Bai showed him his writings, mostly his recent poems. The host relished poetry and could tell that the young fellow was an extraordinary talent. Among the poems Bai presented was this one:

  漢水波浪遠 巫山雲雨飛

  東風吹客夢 西落此中時

  覺後思白帝 佳人與我違

  瞿塘饒賈客 音信莫令稀

  《江上寄巴東故人》

  The waves on the Han River stretch away

  While the clouds over Mount Wu fly with rain.

  The east wind carries the traveler’s dream west

  Back to that distant place.

  Waking up, I again think of Baidi Town

  Where you didn’t come to meet me.

  So many merchants return from there.

  Please send me a word now and then.

  “WRITING ON THE RIVER TO A FRIEND IN BADONG”

  Badong was a prefecture in Hubei, near the Three Gorges. The poem is most naturally read as a love poem: the subject seems to be a woman and the speaker expresses hurt and disappointment—if not humiliation—by an unfulfilled tryst. The poem was an odd choice for the occasion (Bai was meeting his prospective father-in-law). Before the visit, the Xus had made clear that they were seeking someone who would marry into their household, and such a marriage for most men at the time had a tinge of dishonor. Bai’s poem seems to deliberately subvert any expectations the Xus might have had of him as a conventional family man. The woman in the poem is speculated to be one with whom Bai had formed an intimate relationship several years earlier while visiting his younger brother up the Yangtze in Badong. The two brothers don’t appear to have been close—Bai mentions him only once in his writings, and after this visit he would not cross paths with him again. Yet it was during his stay with him that Bai met this woman, and whatever intimacy they shared made him remember her fondly in his work.

  Squire Xu seemed to understand the subtext of Bai’s poem, but wasn’t bothered by it. He saw the exuberant talent in the writing and became more convinced that Li Bai would go far in his official career and help his family regain their lost prestige. He could hardly contain his excitement. He told a maid to go and fetch his daughter. A few moments later Miss Xu appeared. She was a delicate young woman with a bony face and glossy hair. Her complexion was a bit pallid, but she had vivid, intelligent eyes. She was familiar with Li Bai’s poems, which had been circulating somewhat widely, and she loved them. She was struck by the appearance of the young man seated next to her father. To her, Bai was more solid than handsome, and she was delighted by the prospective groom chosen for her.

  Soon after Li Bai left, Squire Xu met Meng Rong again and expressed his wish to have Bai as his son-in-law. Meanwhile, Li Bai mulled over the meeting with the Xus. He not only liked Miss Xu’s calm and graceful demeanor but also was impressed with her family’s library, a massive collection with numerous rare books. There was no doubt that if he made his home here, he would have a solid foundation for his work and the full support of the Xus. He was tired of wandering around to beg officials. Although he was not yet ready to have children and raise a family, he realized that it would be better to settle down and study for a number of years, grow his reputation, and prepare himself for an opportunity.

  The wedding took place within a month. It was attended by many local powers, including Li Bai’s friend Yuan Danqiu and his advocate, Officer Ma. Li Bai was pleased with his gracious bride, who was well read and knowledgeable about history, literature, music, and the arts. She had a quick mind and could easily catch allusions he used in his poems and conversations, and she had her own tastes in poetry. Intellectually she was his match.

  Soon after they got married, Li Bai wrote a poem, as a letter, to the woman back in Badong:

  清水本不動 桃花發岸傍

  桃花弄水色 波蕩搖春光

  我悅子容豔 子傾我文章

  風吹綠琴去 曲度紫鴛鴦

  昔作一水魚 今成兩枝鳥

  哀哀長雞鳴 夜夜達五曉

  起折相思樹 歸贈知寸心

  覆水不可收 行雲難重尋

  天涯有度鳥 莫絕瑤華音

  《代别情人》

  The clear water hardly moves

  As peach blossoms spread on the bank.

  The blossoms are playing with the water

  And waves keep rocking the spring scene.

  I am ecstatic about your beautiful looks

  While you fall for my writings.

  The breeze blows away the notes from my green lute,

  Its melodies flapping with purple mandarin ducks.

  That was long ago when we were fish in the same water,

  But now we are two birds in separate woods,

  Who warble plaintively every night until dawn.

  I break a twig from the Lovesick Tree

  And send it along as a sign of my heart.

  The spilt water can no longer be gathered

  As the clouds, once gone, can’t be found again.

  Yet there are birds treading the sky,

  So please let them convey your word.

  “FAREWELL TO A LOVER, ON BEHALF OF ANOTHER”

  The title of the poem is an obvious mask—Li Bai must not have felt able to declare openly that this poem was for a secret lover of his own. At that time, it was common for poets to write love poems on others’ b
ehalf, just as writers today may compose love letters for others. This kind of ghostwriting has been an ancient practice, but this poem is much more intimate, peculiar, and complex. The speaker regrets that they cannot be together despite their love for each other. Although a union is not possible, he still longs to hear from her. And the speaker in the poem is actually a writer himself—as the line “While you fall for my writings” indicates—so why would he need a ghostwriter? The speaker must be Bai himself.

  Some scholars have conjectured that the subject of this poem is a courtesan in Nanjing named Madame Duan Seven, but this argument is not convincing, because he had already written such a poem, “For Madame Duan Seven,” which contains unrestrained praise of her beauty: “I’m not afraid to drown myself in this green wine / Because your fiery beauty maddens me.” If this farewell poem were meant for her, Li Bai wouldn’t have hesitated to put her name on it and his language would be more lavish. Furthermore, the woman in the poem was in Badong, while Madame Duan was in Nanjing. It is more reasonable to conclude that this is a poem to another former lover. In these verses, he claims that he has to end their relationship,3 though he does not wish to lose touch with her entirely. Following this interpretation, we may even argue that Li Bai, in spite of his ungovernable heart, accepted his marriage—and thus his separation from his former lover—as a fait accompli and tried to make the best of it.

  It is generally held that Li Bai was not a good husband. Some even argue that since he had only two children with his wife, the couple’s sex life must not have been active. That is a skewed view. The evidence shows that Li Bai did love his wife. Soon after their marriage, he took her to Yingcheng County, about forty miles south of Anlu, to bathe in a hot spring so that she could “float in the water and inhale the orchid fragrance / With a flushed face blooming like peach blossoms” (“Composed at the Yunȕ Hot Spring in Yingcheng, An Prefecture”). He wrote a number of poems for her and about her—a significant fact because poets prior to Li Bai had rarely written about their wives. His work made more room for poets to address their wives openly and honestly. In one of his poems, he addresses her and jokes about himself with a touch of self-reproach: “Three hundred sixty-five days a year / Every day I got drunk, collapsed like mud. / How awful, you became Bai’s wife? / It must feel like having an idiot as a husband” (“For My Wife”). Understandably, he must have been unhappy about his dependent role in the marriage, and so attempted to drown his sadness in alcohol, but he must have also felt grateful to his wife for providing an anchor for his turbulent life.