Chinese Famous Female Writer LI Qingzhao, Essay Example

Li Qingzhao was a remarkable woman of great intelligence and very soulful talent in poetry: she achieved very much in a society that restricted women through the impositions of gender roles. Her poetry is very moving and beautiful, touching on subjects from happiness at being with her husband, to many poems dealing with sadness, loneliness, grief, and pain. Many of her poems show established trends in the literature of Chinese women, although she was very original; others are very bold and are less conventional. A woman of tremendous character and talent, Li Qingzhao produced many great works that reveal how she participated in some aspects of gender impositions, and contested others.

Li Qingzhao was born into a distinguished and cultured family of scholars and court officials in the days of the Sung (Song) Dynasty (Peterson 261). Her parents educated her in classical Chinese learning, which was unusual for girls in the time of the Sung Dynasty (261). Her mother was also a poet, and it is possible that Li Qingzhao was encouraged by her to write in the style of the ci poetry (261). As a young woman, Li Qingzhao proved herself as not only educated well in history of China, but also as a very skilled ci poet (262). Two of her early ci written to criticize the ci of her father’s friend Zhang Lei (262). Zhang Lei wrote about a historical monument of the Tang triumph over the An Lushan uprising; the ci of Li Qingzhao were criticism of his knowledge of these great historical events (262). This shows Li Qingzhao as a bold woman, as well as very talented in ci and very knowledgeable in Chinese history; in Sung society bold women were unusual, but her family encouraged her (262).

Sung Dynasty culture was very patriarchal: it was under Sung Dynasty that the practice of foot-binding became popular and very severe and harsh (Ch’en 61). Also under Sung Dynasty, the Neo-Confucianism began to teach that widows should not remarry, a teaching from Indian culture (61-62). However, on the other hand, Sung Dynasty was a time of high property rights for women: new laws of Sung Dynasty protected women’s property, and especially the property of women in marriage and of widows (Birge 64). And property was very important, because it determined status in society: for women, size of dowry “determined whether a bride entered her marital family as a principal wife or a concubine, as a free woman or in servitude” (64-65). Dowries were large, and family ties were strong: a large dowry was needed for a good match; if parents later fell on hard times, the husbands’ family could use the dowry to support them (65).

Li Qingzhao married Te-fu of Chao family in year 1101; he studied in Imperial University, before taking the examinations (Li Qingzhao 569). In Postface to a Catalog on a Collection of Bronze and Stone Inscriptions Li Qingzhao wrote of how they collected old prints, and later calligraphy and antique things (569). The two were a good match, with very like interests in antiquities and in poetry (Peterson 263). Many of the poems they each wrote to each other reflect their deep love for each other: while her husband was studying in Imperial Academy, Li Qingzhao wrote a poem for him, “Sorrow of Departure” (263).

This poem “Sorrow of Departure” is similar to the literary convention of the ‘abandoned woman’ in Chinese poetry, which is found in Shijing or Book of Songs from about 600 B.C.: in these poems, a woman speaks of feelings of loneliness and abandonment, because her lover or husband is away in service of the king (Samei 44-45). Samei identifies two features of this: first, the woman shows “disinterest in her appearance, since her lover is not there to appreciate her,” and secondly, nature is in opposition to the speaker, whether indifferent or causing her grief (45). From “Sorrow of Departure” we can see some similar themes: “Red lotus incense fades on/The jeweled curtain… Gently I open/My silk dress and float alone/On the orchid boat. Who can/Take a letter beyond the clouds?” (Li Qingzhao qtd. in Peterson 263). Here Li Qingzhao expresses her loneliness, yearning for her husband: she does seem to show less interest in her appearance. She also contrasts herself with nature, including flowers, water, and animals: “Creatures of the same species/Long for each other. But we/Are far apart and I have/Grown learned in sorrow” (qtd. in Peterson 263). The creatures of the same species long for each other, but it is implied that they have each other, because Li Qingzhao contrasts them: “But we/Are far apart and I have…” Li Qingzhao was a bold woman by standards of the Sung Dynasty Chinese culture, but she also wrote poetry in definitively female ways that corresponded with gendered impositions.

It is important to remember that the ci poetry Li Qingzhao wrote so well began in Sui Dynasty and flowered under Tang (City University of Hong Kong [CUHK] 641). Originally ci were sung by singing girls in Sui and Tang Dynasties, but under Sung Dynasty the ci was the main form of poetry (Dillon 247). So the art of ci began with women, but by the time of Li Qingzhao these poems were mostly written by men (247). Li Qingzhao, like other women poets, was living in a patriarchal culture and trying to make herself heard in that culture through her poems: like other women poets, Li Qingzhao had to deal with “the poetic conventions of the ‘feminine’” (Samei 65). This is example of gendered impositions on the work of Li Qingzhao, but these conventions also included the presentation of strong voice for the speaker (65).

There is a good contrast between “Sorrow of Departure” and another of Li Qingzhao’s poems, which deals with joy of being married: “I bought a spray of Spring in bloom/From a flower carrying pole… Lest my lover should think/The flowers are lovelier than my face/I pin it slanting in my thick black hair/And ask him to compare us” (qtd. in Peterson 262). This poem is a good contrast: here, Li Qingzhao pays attention to her appearance, playfully asking her husband to compare her and a bouquet of flowers. She is seeking male attention in order to please her husband, a very traditional gender role in Sung Dynasty culture—and there is the element of male gaze there (Samei 71). But again, as with “Sorrow of Departure” Li Qingzhao contrasts herself with nature: only here, it is beauty that is being compared.

But Li Qingzhao and her husband had to undergo a great deal: factions in Sung court resulted in father’s exile in 1102 A.D. (Peterson 264). Li Qingzhao showed an exceptional boldness in writing to father-in-law, with request that he allow her father to return, even though the two men were of different factions: in one poem she wrote to father-in-law, “’Your fingers are burned… while your heart grows cold’” (264). This is a very bold thing for a woman to say in Sung times, and a good example of some of the ways in which Li Qingzhao did not accept traditional gender roles. Her father’s fortune was restored, but then her father-in-law fell out of favor a couple of years later (264). Soon, Li Qingzhao and her husband had to flee south, where they spent ten years (264). However, it was during this time that the Manchurian Jurchen people invaded China and established Jin Dynasty in the north, beyond Huai River (266). The Southern Sung maintained Chinese rule in the south, but it was a terrible catastrophe (264). Li Qingzhao responded by penning a poem criticizing the emperor and nobles and troops for fleeing: “Alive we need heroes among the living/Who when dead will be heroes among the ghosts./I cannot tell how much we miss Xiang Yu,/Who preferred death to crossing to the east of the river” (qtd. in Peterson 266-267). Li Qingzhao had a tremendous character: she was not afraid to be bold, even in a society that did not encourage women to be bold.

Sadly, Li Qingzhao’s husband died of illness not long after (Peterson 267). Many of her later poems reflect her deep grief: “The gentle breeze has died down./The perfumed dust has settled./It is the end of the time/Of flowers” (“Spring Ends” lines 1-4). This is a very haunting and powerful scene, and demonstrates the great command Li Qingzhao had of language. Lines 7-11 reads: “Our furniture is just the same./He no longer exists./All effort would be wasted./Before I can speak,/My tears choke me.” In her Postface, Li Qingzhao recounts how she tried to save their collection of books and inscriptions and antiquities, though the majority of the collection was lost to invaders, rebels and a burglar (571). From her retelling, it is apparent that she possessed a great deal of courage and strength, even as she grieved for her husband (571).

So then, Li Qingzhao had much to grieve: the loss of her husband, much of their work, and the downfall of their country. Her poem “Gu yan’er” uses very traditional female imagery such as “bed, incense, rain, tears, empty tower, and broken-off branch”, but also refers to a ci composed by Emperor Li Yu of Southern Tang (Samei 71). The themes of that ci are grief over “loss of an empire, separation from homeland, and wasted youth” (71). Samei explains that Li Qingzhao is linking her grief to “a masculine grief that cannot be dismissed as sensual and feminine” (71). Li Qingzhao was a very strong woman: although the conventions of gender in Sung Dynasty shaped her, she was very capable of looking beyond them. This is also seen in her very brief second marriage: she remarried in 1132 A.D., to Zhang Ruzhou, despite the fact that powerful Neo-Confucian traditions were against widows remarrying (Peterson 268). But the marriage was brief because Zhang Ruzhou was abusive, and so Li Qingzhao divorced him and lived alone (268). Clearly, she was very capable of rejecting impositions of gender when she felt she needed to.

Reflecting on her life losses even as she was delighted to discover a part of her collection of antiquities, Li Qingzhao said: “The ink is as fresh as the day he wrote them, but the tree over his grave has shot up to a considerable height already. I realize that this is the common fate of things: they come and go, or change ownership or are destroyed” (“Postface” 573). Li Qingzhao came to terms with her grief, writing that “there is nothing surprising” in this pattern of loss: “I merely write this story down, that collectors may take warning from it” (572). It is a cause to wonder, whether Li Qingzhao was referring only to collectors of antiquities, or if there is deeper meaning in the words of Li Qingzhao.

In another poem, “Slow Song”, the true sophistication of Li Qingzhao’s poetic talent is very apparent: the lyrics deal with a number of elements, each of which “functions both as an ‘objective’ description of autumn and a ‘subjective’ record of personal feelings” (Lipking 27). “A sudden warmth and now the cold, this is the restless season./Three goblets of light wine, then more, cannot stand up to gusts of evening wind.” (4-7). Li Qingzhao is describing the weather, but she is also describing herself: her emotions are like changing temperature, unsteady; she becomes tipsy, but it takes the wind to show her this, and so on (27). She goes on to paint an even more powerful picture of loneliness: “Wild geese pass over, harrowing my heart, though one among them is an old acquaintance” (8-9). Traditionally in China the geese were seen as messengers, and so Li Qingzhao is now realizing they carry no message for her (Lipking 27). This is probably another reference to her beloved first husband as well.

Lipking argues that Li Qingzhao is identifying herself with autumn in a very profound way: she “allows no distinctions between nature and consciousness, between a season of the year and of the soul” (27). “Mountain light and water’s hue are my intimates—Words can’t convey this Inexhaustible wonder” (“Yuan Wangsun” 4-6, qtd. in Samei 72). This is very important for good reason: as Samei explains, this shows Li Qingzhao identifying with nature, rather than opposing herself to it like the way of convention for the female voice in Chinese poetry (72). This is a very bold and telling departure from the conventions that Li Qingzhao often followed herself (72). And there is a great deal of wonder and freedom in Li Qingzhao’s expression of unity with nature: although she was very skilled in the use of words, she demonstrated her skill all the more by saying that words were insufficient to describe how she felt about the mountain light and water’s hue. But the poem is also about aging: “The lotus seed ripens, its leaves are old; Clear dew washes/Duckweed blooms and shore grasses” (7-9). Samei explains that there are a number of things to note in this poem: for one, Li Qingzhao deals with aging without making reference to men (72). This is a very personal and intimate experience for Li Qingzhao, and it is not defined by men in any way (72).

It is also very stirring to see how Li Qingzhao makes the scene one with very few flowers and fragrances: it is autumn, but it is also autumn for her, and so there are far fewer of these “joys and pleasures” (Samei 72). But instead of the fleeting pleasures and enjoyments of younger age, Li Qingzhao finds that as she ages, she encounters a great beauty in her surroundings: a different kind of beauty than the beauty of youth; this is a beauty that is more stark and more deep, more intimate (72). The lotus leaves are another obvious reference to aging, as are the duckweed and grasses—and yet, both are accompanied by images that suggest new life or cleansing (73). The seeds of the lotus say that new cycles will come: old life gives way to the new, as ever, as it always has (73). The dew on the duckweed and grasses speaks of “cleansing and refreshment”: these are things that also speak of the renewal of life, with new life succeeding the old (73). There is a great deal of very deep and profound wisdom here: Li Qingzhao understands that she is a part of this great cycle, and she can feel a union with it.

Li Qingzhao’s poetry has lasting relevance for two reasons according to Peterson: one is that her poetry is a good source of information for Sung Dynasty society and culture, with very insightful commentary; the second is that they are very, very beautiful (269). Peterson quoted Hu Binqing, who said that “’It is universally accepted that Li Qingzhao is China’s greatest poet’” (269). Her education made her very fortunate, because this was quite rare in Sung Dynasty for a woman to be so educated (269). It is very much to her credit that she sought and managed to get such great literary status, leaving a lasting impact on Chinese literature, which is usually dominated by men (269). Again quoting Hu Binqing, Peterson explained that in Li Qingzhao’s time and before—and after—Chinese society typically gave women “’no freedom of thought, no freedom of action, no freedom of love, and no freedom of expression’” (269).

So then, did Li Qingzhao conform to gender expectations of Sung Dynasty society, or did she resist them? Perhaps the answer is some of each: many of her poems used very conventional gender norms, and we have seen that she wrote in the genre convention of the ‘abandoned woman’ (Samei 73). Some of her poems express loneliness when she was away from her husband; many express her grief after his death. On the other hand, it is also true that Li Qingzhao did express herself in ways that were not so conventionally feminine, and seemed more masculine (73). Samei’s argument is that Li Qingzhao used conventional feminine expressions because she was a woman operating in a mostly male-dominated field, while the times that she did not use these conventions are further evidence of her very great talent (73). This is a very sound argument: Li Qingzhao was a very strong and capable woman, with a great deal of character and talent; she was capable of participating in conventions of Chinese society under Sung Dynasty, and she was also capable of exploring beyond them.

Li Qingzhao had a very remarkable career: intelligent and well-educated, she was very interested in antiquities and books, and collected them with her husband even as she wrote magnificent poems. Her poems are works of very great beauty, which deal with love and loss, youth and aging, in very profound and soul-stirring ways: they also reveal her great wisdom. Li Qingzhao both participated in literary conventions that were seen as feminine, and challenged them in very innovative ways: she wrote ‘abandoned women’ poems, as well as poems celebrating her sense of union with nature and acceptance of the cycles of life.

Works Cited

Birge, Bettine. Women, Property, and Confucian Reaction in Sung and Yuan China (960-1368). New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Print.

Ch’en Heng-che. “Influences of Foreign Cultures on the Chinese Women.” Chinese Women Through Chinese Eyes. Ed. Yu-Ning Li. Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, Inc., 1992. 59-71. Print.

City University of Hong Kong. China: Five Thousand Years of History and Civilization.

 Kowloon, Hong Kong: City University of Hong Kong Press, 2007. Print.

Dillon, Michael, ed. China: A Cultural and Historical Dictionary. Richmond, Surrey, UK: Curzon Press, 1998. Print.

Peterson, Barbara B. “Li Qingzhao.” Notable Women of China: Shang Dynasty to the Early Twentieth Century. Ed. Barbara B. Peterson. Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, Inc., 2000. 261-269 Print.

Li Qingzhao. “Postface to a Catalog on a Collection of Bronze and Stone Inscriptions.” Trans. Lin Yutang. 569-572.

Lipking, Lawrence I. Abandoned Women and Poetic Tradition. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1988. Print.

Samei, Maija B. Gendered Persona and Poetic Voice: The Abandoned Woman in Early Chinese Song Lyrics. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2004. Print.