A Personal View: A Brief Critique of the Poetry of Mr. Mao Runzhi

2006/2/9 15:03:30

The way of poetry is not about talent and learning, though talent and learning are certainly indispensable. The world has no shortage of those with great talent and vast learning, yet most of their poetry is not worth preserving -- they are constrained by temperament. Mr. Mao Runzhi, in his youth, genuinely gained something from classical studies, yet tracing his career from beginning to end, his karmic ties to classical learning were never fully fulfilled. Poetry for Mr. Mao was not his primary pursuit. Rendered through his temperament, it nevertheless displayed remarkable brilliance. Yet the highest path, which a thousand sages cannot transmit -- to possess talent, learning, and temperament in full and yet not become a poet or lyricist of the first rank -- is like a golden lock upon a heavy gate. It cannot be broken by talent, learning, or temperament alone, for talent, learning, and temperament are themselves that golden lock. The same is true of Mr. Mao's poetry.

Mao's shi is inferior to his ci -- this was Mao's own assessment. Runzhi's poetry has numerous violations of tonal rules. Though this is a minor flaw, one who cannot cure even minor ailments is certainly no master physician. Those of bold temperament tend to favor bold poetry. Combined with talent, learning, and the circumstances of the times -- when destiny and occasion converge -- heroic works emerge, like a river breaking through dams or mountains collapsing. Done occasionally, this gives full vent to one's nature. But forced repeatedly, it loses its natural quality and ultimately degenerates into mere coarseness. Coarseness has nothing to do with poetry -- it is the bane of literary Chinese.

Runzhi's poetry: in the strange and uncanny, far inferior to Li He and Yang Weizhen; in boldness, not equal to Xin Qiji and Chen Weisong -- to say nothing of Tao Yuanming, Li Bai, Du Fu, or Su Dongpo. In truth, Runzhi had no intention of competing with the ancients in poetry. It is only his deluded admirers who, out of excessive love, make such reckless claims. That Runzhi was not of the first rank in poetry does not diminish Mr. Mao as Mr. Mao. To insist otherwise merely adds another laugh for posterity.

There are rumors in the world claiming that Runzhi's poetry was largely ghostwritten -- for instance, that "Qinyuanchun: Snow" was actually written by Hu Qiaomu. I once had the opportunity to verify this in person with Hu's children and am confident that these are fabrications by idle gossips. Runzhi's poetry and prose were all his own -- there was absolutely no ghostwriting.

I compose a "Linjiang Xian" to close:

Turbid waters tilt in waves for thirty thousand li;
solemn, I sit alone on a solitary peak.
The dragon lies hidden, the lion asleep, awaiting the gale;
the heartless are all mere upstarts,
those with tears are heroes too.

A long sword leans against heaven, where stars and constellations blaze;
past and present pass before the eyes into emptiness.
Heaven and earth, looked up to and down upon, are left to fortune and hardship;
half a moon hangs above the blue sea, a single reed-skiff heads east on the great river.