Kim Seung-jong's Literary Miscellany (181) "Here Nothing Remains but the Yellow Crane Tower"

[Kim Seung-jong's Literary Miscellany (181)] "Here Nothing Remains but the Yellow Crane Tower"

On the early morning of August 14, the second day of this China trip. I had intended to visit the "Yellow Crane Tower (黃鶴樓)" [on the banks of the Yangtze River in Wuhan, Hubei Province], which the renowned calligrapher and connoisseur of the Chinese Song Dynasty, Mi Fu (米芾: 1052-1107), called the "finest tower under heaven overlooking mountains and rivers (天下江山第一樓)." I took a taxi with my group, but owing to circumstances I shall explain another time, I found myself merely gazing at it from a speeding taxi returning to the hotel.

I could barely see the upper portion and roof of that pavilion rising far beyond the buildings lining the street. Watching the painting of it drawn on a folding screen with fondness, I found myself in a worse predicament than those Goryeo and Joseon scholars who lamented not seeing it in person. Since my military discharge, early one morning, I had climbed a long uphill alley to reach a small room in an elder's house where I studied the "Collection of Ancient Prose (古文眞寶)," and there I read Cui Hao's (崔顥: 704-754) "Ascending the Yellow Crane Tower (登黃鶴樓)." From that time, I vowed one day I would certainly visit.

昔人已乘黃鶴去(In ages past, men rode the yellow crane away)

此地空餘黃鶴樓(Here nothing remains but the Yellow Crane Tower)

黃鶴一去不復返(Once the yellow crane departs, it returns no more)

白雲千載空悠悠(White clouds drift idly through a thousand years)

晴川歷歷漢陽樹(Beyond the clear river, the groves of Hanyang stand distinct)

春草萋萋鸚鵡洲(On Parrot Island in the river, spring grass grows thick)

日暮鄕關何處是(As the sun sets, where lies my home?)

煙波江上使人愁(The misty waters stir the heart to melancholy)

That morning, on a train bound for Yingtan City in Jiangxi Province, I opened the internet on my mobile phone to search for images of the Yellow Crane Tower and the poem "Ascending the Yellow Crane Tower." On first impression, it is a poem that treats the passage of time, the sense of impermanence, the wandering of no small significance, and boundless homesickness. The poet's broad and expansive vision and related sentiment still held appeal. Yet as time passes, or perhaps from the perspective of indulgence, I found myself hesitant to simply accept the traditional assessment that it ranks as the finest work (masterpiece) among all seven-character regulated verses (七言律詩) of the Tang Dynasty. I suspect readers might feel similarly. Moreover, regarding the story in poetic lore (詩話) that Li Bai (李白: 701-762) came to the Yellow Crane Tower, marveled at its scenery, but upon reading this posted poem, unable to compose verse superior to its descriptions, abandoned poetry composition—I hesitate to accept this account at face value as well.

Yet finding it difficult to dismiss the evaluations of ancients, I endeavored in my own way to explore the reasons. First, I think one should not merely read the first two lines and move on lightly. As Qianlong Emperor (1711-1799) of the Qing Dynasty, himself a accomplished scholar and man of letters, mentioned, referring to the Yellow Crane Tower as the "traces of immortals in the Jianghan region (江漢仙蹤)," the identity of the Yellow Crane Tower is above all connected to the way of immortals (仙道). Throughout history it has been recognized and utilized as a military base, scenic tourist attraction, and venue for literary gatherings or farewell celebrations, but ultimately the tower originated from the pursuit of the way of immortals—that is, the story of a Taoist priest's attainment of immortality (成仙) forms the foundation of its construction. This background is a superior asset not found in the Yueyang Tower and Prince Teng's Pavilion, the other two great towers of the Jiangnan region alongside the Yellow Crane Tower. As you know, immortals transcend human limitations of space and time, yet their essence remains fundamentally human. Regarding the "ancients (昔人)" presented in the first line, the "Record of Wuchang (武昌志)" records it as follows. I note in advance that it shares the same structure as the stories of immortals (仙話) recorded in Liu Xiang's (劉向: 77 BCE-6 BCE) "Biographies of Immortals (列仙傳)," so the addition would not seem out of place.

In Jiangxia Commandery (江夏郡), a man surnamed Xin operated a tavern. One day, a large scholar dressed in worn clothes entered and asked whether the innkeeper would provide wine. Mr. Xin did not refuse. From that time onward, for half a year, the scholar drank at the tavern without paying a single coin, and always from the largest cups. Yet Mr. Xin bore no resentment. One day, the scholar told Mr. Xin that he had accumulated considerable debt and could not repay it, but instead offered to paint a picture for him. Using tangerine peel, the scholar drew a crane on the wall, and it became a yellow crane. When the tavern's patrons clapped and sang, the crane danced in time with them. Many people gathered at Mr. Xin's tavern to witness this marvel. Over ten years, Mr. Xin amassed a fortune of tens of thousands of gold pieces. Later the scholar appeared again, and Mr. Xin told him he would fulfill any wish. The scholar smiled briefly, took out a flute, and played several melodies. White clouds descended from the sky, and the crane drawn on the wall flew down to the scholar. At last the scholar mounted the crane and ascended to heaven. Thereupon Mr. Xin erected a tower and named it the Yellow Crane Tower.

- "Selection by Huang Jian," translated by Yi Jang-woo, Woo Jae-ho, Jang Se-hu, "Collection of Ancient Prose (古文眞寶)," Eul-yu Culture Publishing, 2001, p. 272

Based on the recurring structure in works from the "Biographies of Immortals," the scholar who appears at a riverside tavern seeking wine on credit represents a Taoist priest cultivating the way of immortals through wine; the yellow crane drawn with tangerine peel and its miraculous dancing represent the scholar's magical arts; the fortune of tens of thousands earned by Mr. Xin represents the reward for benevolent deeds aligned with the way of immortals; the appearance of the scholar ten years later, calling forth the crane from the wall, riding it, and ascending to heaven represents the achievement of celestial immortalhood (天仙) through years of cultivation—this serves as verification. [As reference, immortals who travel to renowned mountains and waters become earthly immortals (地仙), and those who die and are revived become corpse-freed immortals (尸解仙)]. The crane here is a "spiritual being (靈物)" jointly employed by celestial and earthly immortals in transcending space. The "white clouds descending from the sky" are also a type of spiritual being, and in this context serve as an emissary (使者) dispatched from the celestial immortal realm (仙境). [As reference, spiritual beings appearing in the "Biographies of Immortals" include, besides these two, dragons, phoenixes, carp, carriages, dogs, gourds, wind and rain, smoke, whirlwinds, wooden sheep, and minor immortals.]

If one overlooks or neglects these stories of the way of immortals and their aspirations in appreciating this poem, the sigh in the second line, "Here nothing remains but the Yellow Crane Tower," becomes difficult to understand or seems incomplete. While already implicit in the first line, in the second line the Yellow Crane Tower is not presented as a magnificent spectacle or object of praise, but is highlighted as an empty space evoking transience. That is, the intent is that a Yellow Crane Tower without immortals or the yellow crane, however beautiful and majestic, holds little significance, and this strongly suggests the poet's aspiration toward the way of immortals. This meaning can be discerned in the character "空 (empty/nothing)" that appears repeatedly in the second and fourth lines despite the repetition. In the poet's approach to the Yellow Crane Tower of all under heaven in this manner, readers will likely be struck with wonder rather than aversion, and their thoughts may deepen.

Lines three and four elaborate on lines one and two. They reinforce the message and emotion of lines one and two, and this effect can be said to be present. On the other hand, they may also be viewed as repetition with the message and emotion that quickly converge in lines one and two. Historical commentators viewed them as necessary elaboration for comprehending and appreciating the poetic progression—the former interpretation. That is, even if one insists on viewing line three as repetition, line four, "White clouds drift idly through a thousand years," evokes well both the poet's current perspective and the sky above the Yellow Crane Tower at that time. The yellow crane that vanished a thousand years ago, and the white clouds that drift by as they did then and continue to do so thereafter. These two appear naturally and necessarily in this poem, and simultaneously they contrast well, making each other's imagery clearer. Their connotative meanings as well.

In lines five and six, description of the local scenery and landscape continues. Landscape description is insufficient with only line four and must continue; lines five and six both depict the scenery below the tower. This also contrasts with line four, which describes above the tower. Line six is particularly significant as it constitutes a necessary transition in the poem's conclusion, so its significance is layered. In "On Parrot Island in the river, spring grass grows thick," "spring grass (春草)" [some versions read 芳草 (fragrant grass), but the meaning is ultimately the same] is also a motif of homesickness and return in Chinese poetry. [The textual origin is noted as the verse from "Summoning the Recluse (招隱士)" in the "Songs of Chu (楚辭)": "王孫遊兮不歸(The noble son departs and returns not) 春草生兮萋萋(But spring grass grows thick and lush)"]

Therefore, this poem inherits the tradition of the "Songs of Chu," and the seventh line that immediately follows, "As the sun sets, where lies my home?", is not out of place. If we were unaware of the significance of the spring grass motif, line seven, together with line eight, "The misty waters stir the heart to melancholy," might seem an abrupt and unexpected turn, even appearing as trite closing lines departing from the preceding context. In fact, I initially held this view.