“See where, like specks of spring-cloud in the sky,
On their long northern route the wild geese fly;
Together o’er the River we will roam....
Ah! they go towards, and I away from home!”
Here is another in a more humorous vein:—
“The rain had been raining the whole of the day,
And I had been straining and working away....
What’s the trouble, O cook? You’ve no millet in store?
Well, I’ve written a book which will buy us some more.”
FANG WEI-I
Taken altogether, the poetry of the present dynasty, especially that of the nineteenth century, must be written down as nothing more than artificial verse, with the art not even concealed, but grossly patent to the dullest observer. A collection of extracts from about 2000 representative poets was published in 1857, but it is very dull reading, any thoughts, save the most commonplace, being few and far between. As in every similar collection, a place is assigned to poetesses, of whom Fang Wei-i would perhaps be a favourable example. She came from a good family, and was but newly married to a promising young official when the latter died, and left her a sorrowing and childless widow. Light came to her in the darkness, and disregarding the entreaties of her father and mother, she decided to become a nun, and devote the remainder of her life to the service of Buddha. These are her farewell lines:—
“’Tis common talk how partings sadden life:
There are no partings for us after death.
But let that pass; now no more a wife,
Will face fate’s issues to my latest breath.
“The north wind whistles thro’ the mulberry grove,
Daily and nightly making moan for me;
I look up to the shifting sky above,
No little prattler smiling on my knee.
“Life’s sweetest boon is after all to die....
My weeping parents still are loth to yield;
Yet east and west the callow fledglings fly,
And autumn’s herbage wanders far afield.
“What will life bring to me an I should stay?
What will death bring to me an I should go?
These thoughts surge through me in the light of day,
And make me conscious that at last I know.”
One of the greatest of the scholars of the present dynasty was Yüan Yüan (1764-1849). He took his third degree in 1789, and at the final examination the aged Emperor Ch‘ien Lung was so struck with his talents that he exclaimed, “Who would have thought that, after passing my eightieth year, I should find another such man as this one?” He then held many high offices in succession, including the post of Governor of Chehkiang, in which he operated vigorously against the Annamese pirates and Ts‘ai Ch‘ien, established the tithing system, colleges, schools, and soup-kitchens, besides devoting himself to the preservation of ancient monuments. As Viceroy of the Two Kuang, he frequently came into collision with British interests, and did his best to keep a tight hand over the barbarian merchants. He was a voluminous writer on the Classics, astronomy, archæology, &c., and various important collections were produced under his patronage. Among these may be mentioned the Huang Ch‘ing Ching Chieh, containing upwards of 180 separate works, and the Ch‘ou Jen Chuan, a biographical dictionary of famous mathematicians of all ages, including Euclid, Newton, and Ricci, the Jesuit Father. He also published a Topography of Kuangtung, specimens of the compositions of more than 5000 poets of Kiangsi, and a large collection of inscriptions on bells and vases. He also edited the Catalogue of the Imperial Library, the large encyclopædia known as the T‘ai P‘ing Yü Lan, and other important works.