Introduction
Seven Masters of the Jian’an Era, refer to seven literati who gathered under Cao Cao’s (155—220) patronage during the chaotic period at the end of the Han Dynasty (Jian’an was the reign name of Emperor Xian, covering the period of 196—220). They are Kong Rong (153—208), Chen Lin (160—217), Wang Can (177—217), Xu Gan (170—217), Ruan Yu (?—217), Ying Yang (?—217), and Liu Zhen (?—217). Cao Pi (187—226), who later became Emperor Wen of the Wei Dynasty, was the f irst to name them together as a group in his “Essay on Writing,”where he praised their vast knowledge and outstanding writing skills. The Seven Masters all served on various posts at Cao Cao’s government. We have provided brief accounts of their lives at the beginning of each individual section in the book.
Cao Pi’s “Seven Masters” became a standard nomenclature in Chinese literary criticism. His portrayal of their relations with him and of their literary activities at the City of Ye (the head-quarters of the Cao government, in modern-day Hebei Province) also became a standard account in the study of the Seven Masters and their poetry. In the twenty-second year of the Jian’an era (217), Wang Can, Chen Lin, Xu Gan, Ying Yang and Liu Zhen all died in a plague. A year later, in a letter to his literary friend Wu Zhi, Cao Pi offered an affectionate account of his interactions with them:
During the plague last year, many of our relatives and friends succumbed. Xu Gan, Chen Lin, Ying Yang, and Liu Zhen all passed away at the same time. How pained I am to speak of this! During those old days we would go on outings together. As we traveled, our chariots touched one another; as we sat, our mats joined. We were never separated even for a moment. We passed around goblets, listened to music. Whenever our ears became hot from drinking, we would look up and compose poetry.
Cao Pi was Heir Apparent and Central Commander of Five Guards at that time, and three of the Seven Masters, Xu Gan, Ying Yang, and Liu Zhen, served as his “Instructor” (wenxue), which is an honorary position often offered to renowned scholars at the Heir Apparent’s establishment. Cao Pi describes his relations with them as both intimate and equal, and the poetry produced during these allegedly carefree occasions is presented by him as a natural, spontaneous expression of heartfelt emotions. Needless to say, this romantic, idealized, and one-sided account reflects the vision and perspective of a royal patron, but it was often taken up by later studies of the Jian’an poetry. Thus, Liu Xie (?—520), in his magnum opus, Wenxin diaolong or The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons, writes:
When Emperor Xian was moved around, those literati were like tumbleweed. At the end of the Jian’an era, the area in the north became peaceful. Emperor Wu of the Wei [Cao Cao], who was then the Chancellor-in-Chief and Prince, loved poetry; Emperor Wen [Cao Pi], who then held the positon of Heir Apparent, was well versed in composing rhapsody; the lofty Prince Chensi [Cao Zhi] dashed out words like sounding pearls and jade. They were all courteous to distinguished literati, hence outstanding talents all gathered around them like clouds. Wang Can came from Hannan, Chen Lin from Hebei, Xu Gan from Qingzhou, Liu Zhen from the seashore; Ying Yang drummed up his brilliant thought, Ruan Yu spread his elegant joy. People like Lu Cui, Fan Qin, Handan Chun, and Yang Xiu, all gracefully sauntered about while feasting. They composed songs over wine, dipped their brushes in ink with laughter. When we observe their writings of the time, we f ind that they are all deeply emotional, caused as they are by the chaos of their world, by the decline of the customs and suffering of the people; their meaning is deep, their style is far-reaching, teeming with vital force.
Liu Xie here not only has inherited Cao Pi’s romantic account of the poetic activities of the Seven Masters at Ye City, but expanded its scope by including Cao Cao, who, according to historical sources, was “prone to suspicion by nature” and executed several renowned scholars, including Kong Rong. However, Liu Xie was after all writing several hundred years later, and this allowed him to more or less view Jian’an poetry from a historical distance and perspective. In comparison with Cao Pi’s account, Liu Xie’s is broader because it has expanded the context of the Jian’an poetic production. Jian’an poetry is no longer portrayed as simply and only the product of convivial drinking and partying, but includes those “writings of the time” which demonstrate their writers’ deep concerns with socio-political reality, as well as their profound emotional engagement.
Indeed, although the supposedly carefree outings and par-tying fondly described by Cao Pi and Liu Xie did produce some poems of Jian’an quality, they seem to have occasioned more poems of superf iciality and mediocrity, especially those that bear the titles of “At His Lordship’s Banquet” and “Cockf ighting. ” Moreover, the outing and the partying fondly described by Cao Pi and Liu Xie might not have been as carefree and convivial as they claimed. A poem by Chen Lin, titled “Excursion,” may illustrate this:
高会时不娱， At grand occasions I often feel disconsolate,
羁客难为心。 it is hard for a sojourner to have his wish.
殷怀从中发， Deep feelings rise from the heart of me,
悲感激清音。 this distinctive tune stirs melancholy.
投觞罢欢坐， I put aside my cup to quit the amusement,
逍遥步长林。 and roam around in the lush forest.
肃肃山谷风， The wind is sighing in the valley,
黯黯天路阴。 the heavenly road is dark and dim.
惆怅忘旋反， In my despondence I forget to go back,
歔欷涕沾襟。 weeping, sighing, and letting tears soak my robes.
The “grand occasions” hosted by Cao Pi and his father only make the poet “disconsolate”; they remind him that he is merely an outsider, a “sojourner”, rather than someone who saunters about and interacts intimately with his patrons as Cao Pi’s account claims. To relieve himself of the “melancholy” caused by this situation, he quits the “grand occasions” to seek freedom in nature, but to no avail. In the end, all he can do is “weeping, sighing, and letting tears soak my robes.” Here, we can indeed sense the poet’s “deep feelings” (kangkai), a trademark quality of Jian’an poetry, but this is achieved through a contrast, rather than identif ication, between the “sojourner” and the “grand occasions,” or between Chen Lin and the Cao establishment.
In the poetry of the Seven Masters, those that best represent Jian’an poetry are those that were composed outside the influences of the Cao patronage. Wang Can’s “Seven Sorrows”(No. 2) is one of them:
荆蛮非我乡， Barbaric Jing is not my hometown,
何为久滞淫。 why should I linger there?
方舟溯大江， Our boat floats on the great river,
日暮愁我心。 my heart grows sad as dusk sets in.
山冈有余映， The lingering sunset reflects from the hills,
岩阿增重阴。 layers of shade pile up in the folded crags.
狐狸驰赴穴， Foxes dash to their dens,
飞鸟翔故林。 birds glide back to the old forest.
流波激清响， Waves churn up a clear music,
猴猿临岸吟。 monkeys chant along the banks.
迅风拂裳袂， A quick wind flaps my sleeves,
白露沾衣襟。 white dew dampens my coat.
独夜不能寐， Alone at night I cannot sleep,
摄衣起抚琴。 dressing, I rise to play my lute.
丝桐感人情， Its strings and resonance stir the heart,
为我发悲音。 and make for me a sorrowful tune.
羁旅无终极， I travel and I sojourn without end,
忧思壮难任。 such strong anxieties are hard to carry.
This poem was written before Wang Can joined the Cao establishment; he was then seeking refuge under the patronage of another warlord, Liu Biao. In simple, straightforward language and vivid images, this music bureau poem powerfully conveys and manifests the poet’s loneliness as he travels in an alienating land. In the works of the Seven Masters, many, especially those music bureau and “miscellaneous” poems, possess this strong affective quality. Together with other “ancient poems” of the time, they helped to revive the ancient lyric tradition, which had been in decline and dormant during the Han Dynasty. For this reason, the poetry of the Seven Masters occupy an important place in the development of Chinese poetry, especially the pentasyllabic or f ive-character-line poetry.
Most of the works by the Seven Masters were lost long time ago; some of their extant works are fragmentary and have uncertain authorship. Our translation is mainly based on the Annotated Works of the Seven Masters of the Jian’an by Wu Yun et al. (1991), and the Annotated Poetry of the Seven Masters of the Jian’an by Yu Haoxian and Zhang Caimin (1988). We also consulted Selected Poems of the Han, Wei, and Six Dynasties by Yu Guanying (1997) and The Poetry of the Pre-Qin, Han, Wei, Jin and Northern-Southern Dynasties by Lu Qinli (1983).
As this selection goes into production, we would like to again thank Ms. Xu Xiaojuan. This is our third translation done in collaboration with the Commercial Press. We look forward to more opportunities to work together in the future.
Wu Fusheng and Graham Hartill
December, 2017