A Glimpse of Music and Literature in French Symbolism Through Three Modern Chinese Writers—Shen Congwen, Xu Zhimo, and Liang Zongdai

Qianwei He

Soochow University, China

A Glimpse of Music and Literature in French Symbolism Through Three Modern Chinese Writers—Shen Congwen, Xu Zhimo, and Liang Zongdai

Qianwei He

Soochow University, China

The relationship between music and literature is a continuous topic among poets, and a key subject for the Symbolists. From the mid-19th century on, the French Symbolist theories on music, which largely regard music as the superior form of art, have influenced the modern ideology of both the literary and artistic worlds. French Symbolists have even been considered the pioneers of literary Modernism. Undoubtedly, French Symbolism came into China along with other literary trends during the early 20th century and influenced modern Chinese literature. Modern Chinese writers, in turn, developed their own thinking on music and literature, a thinking which reflected its French roots. Therefore, an examination of their ideas can offer a viewpoint for us to understand the diverse routes of the importation of ideas into China. This article will read into the words of three distinctive modern Chinese writers, to have a glimpse of how they viewed the relationship between music and literature, as well as the inter-relationship between their ideas and the connection with French Symbolism.

music, French Symbolism, Shen Congwen, Xu Zhimo, Liang Zongdai

The close tie between music and literature has always been a focal point in examining literature around the world and throughout time. In the history of Western literature, the dynamics between the two arts became a much-discussed topic among the artists in the nineteenth century. Such discussion lasted through generations of modern artists, especially among the French Symbolists. According to Daniel Albright, “at the dawn of the twentieth century, music became the vanguard medium of the Modernist aesthetics”(Albright, 2004, p. 1). The May Fourth Movement marked the beginning of modern Chinese literature; it was a political movement initiated by university students in Beijing on May 4th, 1919, which in a broader sense belonged to the New Cultural Movement led by Chinese intellectuals from the mid 1910s to the 1920s. After The May Fourth, many Western literary ideas were introduced to China, and the clash between different literary ideas generated debate among Chinese writers. The question of whether music was the best medium among all arts also initiated heated debates among writers, mostly poets. This put forward the debate on whether basic musicality, which refers to the sense of rhythm and rhyme of poetry, is necessary for modern poetry. It also, and in fact most importantly, put forward a broader question of what the best way is to pursue the abstract concept of beauty in arts, which is also one of the main issues that French Symbolism is concerned with. When “music” is discussed in this article, unless otherwise noted, it refers to the concept of music or music in the abstract, rather than audible music (for example, a particular piece of musical work), or the traditional musicality of literature—rhythm and rhyme.

Symbolism, dating from as early as the mid-19th century and concentrated in 1890s Paris, “marks the turn from Romanticism to Modernism” (Bullock & Stallybrass, 1977). It was largely led by a generation of French poets such as Charles Baudelaire (1821 – 1867), Stéphane Mallarmé (1842 – 1898), and Paul Valéry (1871 – 1945). Symbolism, or rather the concept of symbols, has long existed in literature, referring to a form of expression that tries to reach an unseen reality (Symons, 1919). However, the Symbolist movement we define today have theories beyond the traditional uses of symbols; it is a literary movement that is “conscious of itself, in a sense in which it was unconscious”(Ibid., p. 3). While the Romanticists take individual experience as reality, the Symbolists use symbols to approach the idea that “everything in humanity may have begun before the world”; they are concerned with “the soul of things” (Ibid., pp. 8-9). In the process of this pursuit, the Symbolists regard “the indefiniteness of music” as one of “the principal aims”, which is produced by swaying between the imaginary and the real, as well as “a confusion between the perceptions of the different senses” (Wilson, 1931, p. 13).

In the West, the relationship between music and literature is being studied systematically. For example, the Forum of the International Association for Word and Music Studies, established in 2009, offers a platform for scholars to discuss various issues relating to music and literature, and to develop new theories in the related fields. Western literary criticism also has a long history of discussing musical aesthetics and its connection with literature, going back to Eduard Hanslick’sThe Beautiful in Music(1891), which almost provides Modern writers with a fundamental theory of musical aesthetics. In terms of music in modern literature, and Symbolism, there are also several systematic works, such as Albright’sModernism and Music(2004) and Acquisto’sFrench Symbolist Poetry and the Idea of Music(2006). Peter Dayan, the first professor in Word and Music Studies, has also discussed the idea of soundless music. He brings forward the idea of“interart” inArt as Music,Music as Poetry,Poetry as Art,fromWhistler to Stravinskyand Beyond, which sublimates the dialogue between different arts (Dayan, 2011). Without a doubt, music, as an international art, has been explored by Chinese writers, and after the May Fourth Movement, the tendencies of Symbolism and Modernism appeared in modern Chinese literature. There exist studies on individual writers on music, but a systematic study on this topic is completely missing.

Among the three writers this article will focus on, most critical works recognise Xu Zhimo (1879 – 1931) as a Romantic writer, thus overlooking his possible connection with Symbolism in terms of music. There are a number of works on Liang Zongdai (1903 – 1983), and French Symbolism as the influence is obvious, but there lacks a major work that studies Liang’s Symbolist ideas from the perspective of music, let alone abstract music. As for Shen Congwen (1902 – 1988), scholars are gradually noticing his Symbolist tendency. Among them, Liu Hongtao explores it the most inShen Congwen’s Fiction and Modernism(《沈從文小說(shuō)與現(xiàn)代主義》) (2009), but he also fails to explore deeper the primary subject of Symbolism—music. Furthermore, while scholars are aware of Xu’s mentorship with Shen, seldom do people realise that Liang might have a crucial influence on Shen’s aesthetics. The following pages will take a look at the ideas of music and literature of the three writers and their interrelations with each other and French Symbolism.

Xu Zhimo and Liang Zongdai both had a Western educational background, where Xu’s literary background was usually considered “Anglo-American” and Romantic, while Liang’s bore a strong French Symbolist influence. However, Shen Congwen never studied abroad or learned any foreign language. Hence, it is easy to assume that Shen received little Western influence and that, consequently, his works show little resemblance to Western literature. Nevertheless, such assumption is implausible. Firstly, Chinese literature after May Fourth largely involved imitation of foreign, especially Western, literature. Liu Hongtao suggests that modern Chinese literature was synchronous with Western Modernism, and in fact, the Irrationalist theories of Bergson, Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, and Freud were widely known in China, while Symbolism, Expressionism, Futurism, and the stream of consciousness technique were brought into China and influenced Chinese writers (H. Liu, 2010). Secondly, even though Shen was, in every aspect, a native Chinese writer, he stayed close to the Chinese writers who had strong Western connections. When Shen started his career, he received help and advice from established writers like Xu Zhimo. As the chief editor of the supplementMorning Post(《晨報(bào)副刊》), in which Shen published many of his early works, Xu encouraged Shen and invited him to poetry reading groups from 1925 to 1926 (H. Liu, 2005). Furthermore, from September 1933 onwards, Shen worked as the chief editor of the literary supplementTa Kung Pao(《大公報(bào)?文藝副刊》), and the supplement at the time rather encouraged translations of, and introductions to, foreign literary works (Zhong, 2008). In 1935, after Liang Zongdai came back from Europe, he started to host a page inTa Kung Pao—Poetry Special(《詩(shī)特刊》)—under Shen’s editorship. This special addition toTa Kung Pao’s literary supplement, according to Zhang Jieyu, started a new movement in modern Chinese poetry (Ibid.), and a large andinfluential range of poets were involved. Many poets who published inCrescent Moon(《新月》) andLes Contemporains(《現(xiàn)代》) contributed, including many of the Chinese Symbolists.

It is also a known fact that the Symbolists and their advocates, such as Dai Wangshu, Bian Zhilin, Liang Zongdai, and Feng Zhi, greatly impacted the development of modern Chinese literature, especially poetry. At the same time, Romantic poets like Xu Zhimo also occasionally joined the discussion and translation of Symbolists, such as Charles Baudelaire. In the translation of “Une Chargone”, Xu also provides an introduction to Baudelaire’sLes Fleurs du Mal, and remarks that “I believe that the substrate of the universe, the substrate of human life, the substrate of every visible subject or invisible idea is, and only is, music—splendid music”1(“我深信宇宙的底質(zhì)，人生的底質(zhì)，一切有形的事物與無(wú)形的思想的底質(zhì)——只是音樂(lè)，絕妙的音樂(lè)?！? (Xu, 1924, p. 6). While Xu also mentions the metrics in Baudelaire, he apparently focuses on Baudelaire’s inner music, or “inaudible music”. Xu claims that “not only can I hear music with sounds, I can also hear music without sounds (it actually has sounds, but you cannot hear them)” (“我不僅會(huì)聽(tīng)有音的樂(lè)，我也會(huì)聽(tīng)無(wú)音的樂(lè)（其實(shí)也有音就是你聽(tīng)不見(jiàn)）?！? (Ibid.). Shen Congwen more than once mentions soundless music, for example, “I am mad. I am mad for abstraction. I see some symbols, a form, a ball of string, a kind of soundless music and a wordless poem” (“我正在發(fā)瘋。為抽象發(fā)瘋。我看到一些符號(hào)，一片形，一把線(xiàn)，一種無(wú)聲的音樂(lè)，無(wú)文字的詩(shī)歌?！? (Shen, 2009, Vol. 12, p. 43). What is this soundless music? It is poetry and it is painting, like what Xu describes as “sounds” in Baudelaire’s poetry—“the tone and colour of his poetry is like the blueness reflected in the beams of setting sunlight—distant, bleak, and sinking” (“他詩(shī)的音調(diào)與色彩像是夕陽(yáng)余燼里反射出來(lái)的青芒——遼遠(yuǎn)的，慘淡的，往下沉的?！? (Xu, 1924, p. 5).

Xu goes on to describe another kind of music in poetry, “imaginary music”: “for music, as long as you listen—the chirps near water, the swallows chatting in between the beams, the sound of water flowing through the valley, the soundwaves of the woods—as long as you have the ears to listen, when you can hear it, ‘hearing’ means ‘understanding’ […] It is all in your imagination” (“但音樂(lè)原只要你聽(tīng)：水邊的蟲(chóng)叫，梁間的燕語(yǔ)，山壑里的水響，松林里的濤聲——都只要你有耳朵聽(tīng)，你真能聽(tīng)時(shí)，這‘聽(tīng)’便是‘懂’。[…] 都在你自己的想像里?！? (Ibid., p. 6). Here, while the sound of the words is only referring to the audible sound, there is also a metaphorical music the reader can hear in their imagination. Xu continues to explain that, “therefore, the real essence of the poetry does not live in the words’ literal meaning, but in its subtle, uncatchable syllables; what he (Baudelaire) provokes is not your skin […] but your uncatchable soul—like falling in love—the touching of the lips is only a symbol, what really connects are your souls” (“所以詩(shī)的真妙處不在他的字義里，卻在他的不可捉摸的音節(jié)里；他刺戟著也不是你的皮膚 […] 卻是你自己一樣不可捉摸的魂靈——像戀愛(ài)似的，兩對(duì)唇皮的接觸只是一個(gè)象征；真相接觸的，真相結(jié)合的，是你們的魂靈?！? (Ibid.). After Xu published this article, it drew criticism from not only Lu Xun (1924), but also Liu Fu, who sarcastically gave four speculations concerning Xu’s theory: 1) Xu has a microphonein his ears; 2) Xu can hear sounds in the distance; 3) Xu is sensitive to ultrasonic sounds; 4) Xu has something that is not yet invented in his ears that can make sounds for him (F. Liu, 1925). Such criticism only shows that Liu Fu does not understand that hearing here does not mean receiving sounds, but understanding, so the essence of Xu’s imaginary music is not in the sounds at all. Combined with what Xu says at the end of the introduction about the substrate of everything that is music, we can roughly divide what Xu thinks as music into three levels:

①The rhythm of the syllables is the literal sound that can be heard.②This refers to the music the reader of the poem would imagine in his/her mind, according to his/her understanding, completely belonging only to the reader.③The deepest and most profound level of music is the music that flows between the reader and the writer, the substrate of everything, which is soundless, but completely based on something like what Kuriyawaga may have called “universality” (“共通性”).2

As Shen almost considered him to be a mentor, it is very likely that Shen would have gathered thoughts similar to Xu Zhimo’s. As much as Xu cares about the audible musicality in poetry (for example, when Xu introduces Keats’s “Ode to a Nightingale”,3he focuses on both the sound and the meaning beyond it), what he could have passed onto Shen would not have been that kind of musicality; the main argument here is that Shen is much more of a novelist or prose writer than a poet. Shen wrote poems, but in a very small quantity. Most of them are collected and translated folksongs and free verses; only in his later years (post 1949) did he compose poems in traditional Chinese poetic forms. In consequence, what Shen could possibly have learned from Xu Zhimo is potentially exactly what Lu Xun posits mockingly—“everything is music”.

However, Xu Zhimo died early, in 1931, before most texts by Shen that contain such ideas were written. It is most possible that Shen read the Romantic master’s works after his death, but there could also be other influences, one of which is Liang Zongdai.

In a letter in 1951, Shen wrote that seventeen years ago (1934) Ma Sicong, Liang Zongdai, and he, listened to a collection of music by Beethoven and other composers for seven hours in one session (Shen, 2009, Vol. 19, p. 178). In this letter, Shen described Ma learning something about composing, conducting, and instruments, which Liang and Shen did not understand, and Liang having some “l(fā)iterary ideas”.4What kind of literary ideascould those be? Shen himself did not learn anything directly, but only “transferred [it] onto [his] later works, especially a few books and short pieces, in which there existed the rhythmic process of music, which is also closer to some experiments in translating music into something concrete” (Ibid.). It is unlikely that Shen would have been influenced by any theory of composition, or of musical techniques, described by Ma, which he did not understand at the time (as nothing suggests Shen had any professional knowledge of musicology); however, it is quite possible that Liang’s “l(fā)iterary ideas” came through in Shen’s work in the end.

First, how did Liang describe Beethoven?

[What exactly is the melody and tone of Beethoven’sSymphony No.3like? Extremely slow, extremely deep, intermittent, drop by drop, like a deep sigh, like a sobbing, like the heavy sorrowful steps of mourners; no, it is almost like the water dripping from the ancient wall of a bottomless cave, drip by drip, till it touches the deepest part of your heart, and arouses a sad but sacred horrible emotion, which is exactly what Yao Nai would call the art of “yin”;5but it is sublime! It is sublime art!]

貝多芬《第三交響曲》這節(jié)底旋律和音調(diào)究竟是怎樣的呢？緩極了，低沉極了，斷斷續(xù)續(xù)的，點(diǎn)點(diǎn)滴滴的，像長(zhǎng)嘆，像啜泣，像送殯者底沉重而凄遲的步伐，不，簡(jiǎn)直像無(wú)底深洞底古壁上的水漏一樣，一滴一滴地滴到你心坎深處，引起一種悲涼而又帶神圣的恐怖心情，正是屬于姚姬傳之所謂 “陰”的藝術(shù)；然而sublime呀！究竟不失其為sublime的藝術(shù)呀！(Liang, 2003, Vol. 2, p. 114)

Much like Xu Zhimo’s description of Baudelaire’s poetry, Liang’s appreciation of Beethoven’s music develops through the actual sound—“extremely slow, extremely deep, intermittent, drop by drop”—to the metaphorical music in the listener’s imagination, “l(fā)ike a deep sigh, like a sobbing, like the heavy sorrowful steps of mourners…” If music has any function of description, it only exists in the listener’s mind as metaphorical music. At last, the music goes into one’s heart and one’s soul, having started from the musician’s soul and thus finally making the connection. The connection is spiritually sublime. Therefore, we can observe that this is why Xu Zhimo finds Baudelaire’s poetry musical. This is a subtle and interesting observation, as they share the process of “appreciation”, much as Kuriyawaga illustrates: the appreciation of art is only founded when the unconscious of the author and that of the reader bring about resonance (Kuriyagawa, 2000). Baudelaire’s poetry produces it by the correspondences created by the symbols. The resonance, in Liang’s words, is created by “the water dripping from the ancient wall of a bottomless cave”. It is of course uncertain whether Liang also made such a description to Shen while they were listening to Beethoven together, but it is possible that through Liang, Shen learned how Symbolism sees literature and music.

[When it comes to poetry, music is an absolute condition: if the author does not pay attention to music or does not put any effort into it, if the author’s ears are insensitive, and if, in thecomposition of the poem, rhythm, meter, or music hold no important position which is equivalent to the meaning, then we must have no hope for this man, who wants to sing without feeling the need to and who offers only words that suggest other words.]

Que s’il s’agit d’un poème, la condition musicale est absolue: si l’auteur n’a pas compté avec elle, spéculé sur elle; si l’on observe que son Oreille n’a été que passive, et que les rythmes, les accents et let timbres n’ont pas pris dans la composition du poème une importance substantielle, équivalente à celle du sens, - il faut désespérer de cet homme qui veut chanter sans trop sentir la nécessité de le faire, et tous les mots qu’il offre suggèrent d’autres mots. (Valéry, 2003, Vol. 1, p. 139)

Liang certainly agrees with the necessity for music in poetry, just as he thinks Valéry’s poetry has the most beautiful rhythms. However, the music in poetry has much more significance than metrics to Liang (and perhaps Valéry, too). Although the audible music is important, the actual music is truth. InPoetry and Truth(《詩(shī)與真》), completed in 1934, Liang writes, “truth is the only profound basis of poetry, and poetry is the most supreme and ultimate realisation of truth” (“真是詩(shī)唯一深固的始基，詩(shī)是真底最高與最終的實(shí)現(xiàn)。”) (Liang, 2003, Vol. 2, p. 5). Although, for him, truth is far away and difficult to reach, the joy lies in a poet’s pursuit of truth, just like “the magical beauty of a song is in the process of the ups and downs, and the quickness and slowness of the melody, but not when the tune is finished” (“一首歌底美妙在于音韻底抑揚(yáng)舒卷底程序，而不在于曲終響歇之后?！? (Ibid., p. 6). It follows that a poet is always in the process of approaching truth; there is a form of poetry, like “the ups and downs, the quickness and slowness of the melody”, which contains the truth, or at least, so Liang considers, which still awaits after the tune fades.

To Liang, Valéry is the master of poetry, as he sets out:

[Yet if he is happy only with discovery, but pursues not the expression, or expresses, but not with the skills of an architect or craftsman, the rocking emotion of a musician to build a crystal palace to sing and cry for, he is barely a poet but a mere philosopher. […] The sentiments, the sighs, of common poets are no more than the flowers and weeds that decorate the way to the temple of truth, despite every flower and weed exhibiting to him a deep world; they are but the wood and rock that build the sacred temple, despite every piece of wood and every rock carrying soundless music.]

可是倘若他只安于發(fā)見(jiàn)而不求表現(xiàn)，或表現(xiàn)而不能以建筑家意匠的手腕，音樂(lè)家震蕩的情緒，來(lái)建造一座能歌能泣的水晶宮殿，他還不過(guò)是哲學(xué)家而不是詩(shī)人。[…] 一般詩(shī)人所不勝眷戀縈回，嘆息吟詠者，對(duì)于我們底詩(shī)人，卻只是點(diǎn)綴到真底圣寺沿途底花草。雖然這一花一草都為他展示一個(gè)深沉的世界；卻只是構(gòu)成巍峨的圣寺的木石，雖然這一木一石都滿(mǎn)載無(wú)聲的音樂(lè)。(Liang, 2003, Vol. 2, p. 8)

The first half of this statement presents Liang’s argument concerning the two important elements of poetry: the form of the poem and the discovery (of truth). Thesecond part focuses on “the truth”. For Liang, the momentary sentiments of a poet can be used, but to a greater poet, such as Valéry, these are merely decorations and masonry. Liang is also suggesting what these trivial things are carrying “a deep world” and“soundless music”, from which he deemed Valéry a great Symbolist. To common poets, flowers, the moon, birds, or any other image are nothing but a momentary sentiment, but to Symbolists, these things carry “a deep world” and “soundless music” because they lead to greater truth. Therefore, “a deep world” and “soundless music” indicate the symbolised.

Liang goes on to suggest that Valéry is a student of Mallarmé, who knows how to use words to create music: “the creator of music that is the most subtle, most rich, most original, and with most complicated words” (“那最精微，最豐富，最新穎，最復(fù)雜的字的音樂(lè)底創(chuàng)造者?！? (Ibid.). He says that “to use words to create music, that is to say, to sublimate poetry to the pure realm of music, is the common intention of all Symbolists, despite their division in approaches” (“把文字要?jiǎng)?chuàng)造音樂(lè)，就是說(shuō)，把詩(shī)提到音樂(lè)底純粹的境界，正是一般象征詩(shī)人在殊途中共同的傾向。”) (Ibid., p. 20). To Liang, a good Symbolist, like Valéry, should not only master the architectural beauty of poetry, but also lead the reader to discover the essence in the poetry through a process of “recreating”(“重新創(chuàng)造”) (Ibid., p. 22). A good poem should not be in only one medium, but should stand outside the art form. A good poem should be “a painting full of sweetness, fragrance, songs, and dances, but not a photograph that only has a shape” (“充滿(mǎn)了甘、芳、歌、舞的圖畫(huà)，不是徒具外表與粗形的照相”) (Ibid.), and it should be able to “guide the reader deep into the secrets of the universe and to feel the same pulse between me and the universe” (“引導(dǎo)我們深入宇宙底隱秘，使我們感到我與宇宙間底脈搏之跳動(dòng)”) (Ibid.). Is Shen Congwen, therefore, a Symbolist?

The only time Shen directly addresses the question of being a Symbolist is in “The Housewife” (《主婦》) (1945), where he writes that “someone says I am a Symbolist, and I will not argue. Maybe he was referring to me as a person, not my writings, but what is written resembles its writer, so fair enough” (“所以有人說(shuō)我是一個(gè)象征主義者，我從不分辨。他指的也許是人，不是文章。然而‘文如其人’，也馬馬虎虎?！? (Shen, 2009, Vol. 10, p. 314). Liu Hongtao uses this to prove that Shen related himself to Symbolism (H. Liu, 2010, p. 147). However, it does not necessarily mean that he admitted being a Symbolist. First, “The Housewife” was published, and later anthologised, as a work of fiction, even though the characters seem to resemble Shen and his wife (for example, their wedding anniversary, like that of the characters, is September 9th). Second, Shen’s undertone in this quote suggests an almost self-mocking denial—“as a person, not my writings [...] fair enough”. It may be a little imprudent to state that Shen claims to be a Symbolist, based on this statement in a work of “fiction”, semi-autobiographic though it may be. However, Shen was never far away from the group of Symbolists among Chinese writers. Also, according to Liu Hongtao, in his early career, Shen wrote poems like“Dream” (《夢(mèng)》) and “Untitled” (《無(wú)題》), which resemble Baudelaire (or the Chinese poet Li Jinfa) and imply Shen’s contact with Symbolism (Ibid., p. 148). Although not directly shown in Shen’s poetry, the themes of “human arts not able to describe beauty”and “soundless music” also occupy Li Jinfa’s poetry. For instance, as Li Jinfa writes in “Gentleness” (《溫柔》), “I play all the music, / but nothing can please your ears; / I painted all the colours, / but cannot illustrate your beauty” (“我奏盡音樂(lè)之聲，/ 無(wú)以悅你耳；/ 染了一切顏色，/ 無(wú)以描你的美麗?！? (Li, n.d.a), and, in “Love and Hate” (《愛(ài)憎》), “Our hearts are full of soundless music, / like the shaking of the light air in space”(“我們的心充滿(mǎn)無(wú)音之樂(lè)，/ 如空間輕氣的顫動(dòng)。”) (Li, n.d.b). It is almost certain that this idea was borrowed from the French Symbolists by Li Jinfa, although it’s difficult to know from exactly which one, as Li was very familiar with many French Symbolists. He even quotes Verlaine (who wrote the famousRomances Sans Paroles) to start this very poem, “Soyons scandaleux sans plus nous gêner”,6from Verlaine’sChansons pour Elle. Shen also has expressions of such Symbolist and intermedia related quotations, such as “[it] was a painting without colour, a song without sound or mimic, and a poem without words” (“無(wú)顏色可涂抹的畫(huà)，無(wú)聲音和摹仿的歌，無(wú)文字可寫(xiě)成的詩(shī)”) (Shen, 2009, Vol. 7, p. 88), and “we know beauty, approach beauty, but silence is the only suitable way in which we can do so. Humans’ songs, like humans’ words, are both rather simple and poor. What can be sung or written is no more than the superficial gain and loss, happiness and sadness of life” (“我們認(rèn)識(shí)美，接近美，只有沉默才是最恰當(dāng)?shù)霓k法。人類(lèi)的歌聲，同人類(lèi)的歌聲，同人類(lèi)的文字一樣，都那么異常簡(jiǎn)單和貧乏，能唱出的，能寫(xiě)出的，皆不過(guò)是人生浮面的得失哀樂(lè)?！? (Ibid., Vol. 7, p. 363). Therefore, it is very likely that the similar ideas present in Shen’s works have their roots in French Symbolism.

It seems that Shen stands always on the edge of Symbolism. Yet, if Liang considers“using words to create music” a prime shared intention of Symbolists, maybe Shen’s works can be examined from this angle.

WhenPoetry Specialstarted, Shen, as the chief editor ofTao Kung Pao’s literature supplement, wrote “The Old Accounts of New Poetry” (《新詩(shī)的舊賬》) to introduce the column, according to Zhang Jieyu, in every way echoing and supporting Liang, including Liang’s ideas on the form of poetry (Zhang, 2011). Like Liang, Shen asserts that, “if poetry wants its effect, words and form can help it” (“詩(shī)要效果，詞藻與形式能幫助它完成效果”). Together, Liang and other participating poets, as well as the editors ofTa Kung Pao, were trying to create a new experimental field for “pure poetry” which could bridge traditional Chinese poetry, Western poetry, and Chinese New Poetry (Zhang, 2011). As mentioned above, although Shen did write some poems, he is never seen as a poet. His early free verses, except for a few, bear obvious marks of imitation. That makes his involvement with the poets and poetic movement, as described by Zhang Jieyu, intriguing, as he had no intention of being a poet at that time.

As shown in the diagram above, musicality in poetry can be physical musicality as well as that which is beyond the material elements of poetry. As the chief editor ofTao Kung Pao, Shen was inevitably at least a witness to the discussion, and it makes one wonder if there is anything about such discussion that may have influenced Shen’s prose writing. Baudelaire asks rhetorically, “who has not, in bouts of ambition, dreamt this miracle, a poetic prose, musical without rhythm or rhyme, supple and choppy enough toaccommodate the lyrical movement of the soul, the undulations of reverie, the bump and lurch of consciousness?” (Baudelaire, 2010, p. 3). Thus, according to him, literature is poetic or not based on whether it is musical, and such musicality has nothing to do with form, rhythm, or rhyme.

Among the discussions inPoetry Special, opinions differ, as Zhang Jieyu points out. For example, Luo Niansheng, by comparing Chinese poetry to classical English poetry, holds that the key to the metrical pattern of Chinese New Poetry should depend on “the meter determined by the stressed and unstressed syllables” rather thanping-ze(平仄: level and oblique tone) (Zhang, 2011, p. 31). Ye Gongchao, quoted by Zhang, thinks that “music is the ideal type of art, because only in music can form and content be united” (“音樂(lè)是一種最理想的藝術(shù)，因?yàn)槲ㄓ性谝魳?lè)里形式與內(nèi)容是根本合一的”) (Ibid., p. 31). However, to French Symbolists like Mallarmé, actual pieces of music are not an issue in such circumstances; instead, “music” means “the idea or category of music” (Acquisto, 2006). As for words, Ye thinks that, although words have shape, sound, and meaning, the most important element is meaning; the rest are only the media for expressing meaning (Zhang, 2011). Luo and Ye together represent two sides of the argument—poetry should be metrics-focused or meaning-focused. However, Liang, in addition to his emphasis on metrics (includingping-ze), also says that a single word has no individual value; it is only an element in poetry, and, according to Mallarmé, “a line in poetry consists of a group of words that have magical power and are complete, brand new, and unfamiliar to its original language” (“一句詩(shī)是由幾個(gè)字組成的一個(gè)完全，簇新，與原來(lái)的語(yǔ)言陌生并具有符咒力量的字?！? (Ibid., p. 31). According to Acquisto, “Mallarmé highlights the gap between sound and sense […] to privilege the sound of a poetic word in order to highlight poetic musicality” (Acquisto, 2006, p. 47). The sound of a poetic word is not the same thing as poetic musicality, in Luo and Ye’s thinking. A poet has to focus on the power of words and language, but in order to create inaudible music. Shen also pays great attention to the“magical power of words” (“文字的魔力”): “painting needs colour and it needs the painter to know how to blend colours. If a writer does not pay attention to the use of words, then he/she cannot express good thinking even when there is any” (“作畫(huà)需要顏色且需要會(huì)調(diào)弄顏色。一個(gè)作家不注意文字，有好思想也表達(dá)不出這種好思想?！? (Shen, 2009, Vol. 18, p. 204). Liang and Shen think similarly: artists should know how to use their materials. However, it seems that what Liang indicates as the meaning of words in poetry does not come from the literal meaning of a single word, but from organisation of the words. At the same time, as an advocate of “pure poetry”, Liang sets out its definition in “About Poetry”(《談詩(shī)》):

[So-called pure poetry discards all objective landscape writing, narration, reasoning, and over-sentimental emotions, and only depends on the elements that form its body—music and colour—to bring about a suggestive power almost like a spell, in order to arouse the reaction of our senses and imagination, and to redeem our souls into a spiritual and bright, heavenly realm. Like music, it is an absolutely independent, absolutely freer and purer and moreimmortal universe than reality; its own phonology (metrics) and colours are its inherent reason for existence.]

所謂純?cè)?，便是摒除一切客觀(guān)的寫(xiě)景，敘事，說(shuō)理以至感傷的情調(diào)，而純粹憑藉那構(gòu)成它底形體的原素——音樂(lè)和色彩——產(chǎn)生一種符咒似的暗示力，以喚起我們感官與想像底感應(yīng)，而超度我們底靈魂到一種神游物表的光明極樂(lè)的境域。像音樂(lè)一樣，它自己成為一個(gè)絕對(duì)獨(dú)立，絕對(duì)自由，比現(xiàn)世更純粹，更不朽的宇宙；它本身音韻和色彩底密切混合便是它底固有的存在理由。(Liang, 2003, Vol. 2, p. 87)

This does not mean that poets should actually use notes and paints to create pure poetry, but rather to sway the magical power of words to create “music and colour”, which then become the elements of pure poetry. What Zhang Jieyu points out perceptively in this definition is that Liang uses “l(fā)ike music” rather than “through music”, which means that Liang never means to equate music with metrics (Zhang, 2011). Therefore, Liang has no intention of applying the form of music to the form of poetry. More importantly, Liang considers poetry as parallel to music, rather than an art form that depends on music. The music here is soundless. In 1972, Shen wrote a letter to his wife, reviewing some of his old works: “my stories and prose have the essence of poetry, and they are even more like poetry than those of many ‘great poets’! I personally think there is melody of music in them; they are very good pieces of music as far as I am concerned! Yet not many professionals in music would agree” (“故事散文中也有詩(shī)情流注，比許多‘大詩(shī)人’分行寫(xiě)的更像詩(shī)！我自己卻以為有音樂(lè)旋律在其中，還自以為即很好的樂(lè)章！可是很少有搞音樂(lè)的內(nèi)行認(rèn)可?！? (Shen, 2009, Vol. 23, p. 185). Here, Shen considers good poetry to be music, and it echoes with Baudelaire’s ideal to have poetic prose that is music. However, this must not be audible music, as stories and prose lack even the audible musicality of conventional poetry. Shen sometimes even goes a step further than common poets in that he tries to create a piece of art that combines all media; for example, Shen experiments with “Gazing at Rainbows” (《看虹錄》) and “Accounts of Plucking Stars” (《摘星錄》) by “blending the three different creative methods of lyrical poetry, watercolour painting, and symphony”(Ibid., Vol. 24, p. 378) to create pure art, which is more similar to Liang’s idea of pure poetry, which hovers in between, yet beyond all.

Zhang Jieyu makes another interesting argument that Liang’s theory of pure poetry, which follows his mentor Valéry, aims at a higher form of literary ideal: Liang suggests that poets should use metrics to improve pure poetry’s musicality, and, in order to achieve that, a poet needs to consider the special features of the Chinese language. He argues that, by combining principles of poetry of the West and of the East, this highest standard of pure poetry could be achieved (Zhang, 2011).

However, what exactly is this highest state of art, and who can be the judge of it? Zhang does not give a clear answer. Maybe it is true that this state is not entirely unreachable, as Liang suggests in his description of Valéry’s poetry:

[It does not indirectly knock on the door of our understanding, but, instead, it directly tells usthe secrets of our perception and imagination, though perhaps not plainly. On this matter, the poetry of Valéry, we may say, has already reached music, the purest and highest state of art.]它并不是間接叩我們底理解之門(mén)，而是直接地，雖然不一定清晰地，訴諸我們底感覺(jué)和現(xiàn)象之堂奧。在這一點(diǎn)上，梵樂(lè)希底詩(shī)，我們可以說(shuō)，已經(jīng)達(dá)到音樂(lè)，那最純粹，也許是最高的藝術(shù)底境界了。(Liang, 2003, Vol. 2, p. 20)

This recalls Goethe’s idea that “music [creates] mood”,7and it echoes Suzanne Bernard in that “true music, capable of speaking to the mind more than to the senses, is poetry”(Bernard & Acquisto, 2006, p. 56). True music and true poetry are both “the purest and highest state of art”. Other than Valéry, Liang may have never crowned anyone so clearly with this honour. Modest or not, Liang thinks that he himself is still on the way to the state of art, or the state of truth, as suggested previously, rather than having achieved it. Whether an unreachable ideal or not for Liang, this state of poetry is definitely even harder for Shen to achieve as a novelist in this context.

Since the topic of “music as the ideal state of art” is a central discussion inPoetry Special, we have reason to believe that Shen witnessed these discussions and then formed his own thoughts.

Shen praises music as the highest form of art on several instances—“to describe an abstract and beautiful impression, words are not as good as paintings, paintings are not as good as mathematics, and mathematics is not as good as music” (“表現(xiàn)一抽象美麗印象，文字不如繪畫(huà)，繪畫(huà)不如數(shù)學(xué)，數(shù)學(xué)似乎又不如音樂(lè)。”) (Shen, 2009, Vol. 12, p. 25). This, we can now see, may have much to do with Symbolist ideas. Shen’s ideas on music and words, the individual, and the universe, resemble Liang’s. Shen may have had other sources, but Liang is the easiest source to pin down. After all, if Shen could recall their session listening to music and sharing literary ideas from previous seventeen years, Liang’s ideas must have been very influential.

As Shen sets out in “The Lyricism of Abstraction” (《抽象的抒情》):

[When life is developing, change is normality, conflict is normality, and destruction is normality. Life itself cannot congeal. When it congeals, it is then near death or actually dies. Only by transferring it to words, to images, to musical notes, to rhythm, can one form of life or one state of life be congealed, and it will produce another kind of existence and continuity of life, through a long time and distant space, connected with another person from another time or another place, with no barrier.]

生命在發(fā)展中，變化是常態(tài)，矛盾是常態(tài)，毀滅是常態(tài)。生命本身不能凝固，凝固即近于死亡或真正死亡。惟轉(zhuǎn)化為文字，為形象，為音符，為節(jié)奏，可望將生命某一種形式，某一種狀態(tài)，凝固下來(lái)，形成生命另外一種存在和延續(xù)，通過(guò)長(zhǎng)長(zhǎng)的時(shí)間，通過(guò)遙遙的空間，讓另外一時(shí)另一地生存的人，彼此生命流注，無(wú)有阻隔。(Ibid., Vol. 16, p. 527)

Just as Beethoven kills harmonious sounds to create something else, writers can congeal one state with words, sentence it to death but give it another form of existence. Suchideas of artistic creation were put forward and developed by artists from Beethoven to the French Symbolists, and were, apparently, received by Shen.

At the same time, while explaining Baudelaire’s “Correspondences”, Liang states that “all the objects and phenomena of the universe […] are only a link on the infinite chain of life, sharing the same pulse and blood” (“宇宙間一切事物和現(xiàn)象 […] 其實(shí)只是無(wú)限之生底鏈上的每個(gè)圈兒，同一的脈搏和血液在里面綿延不絕地跳動(dòng)和流通著”) (Liang, 2006, Vol. 2, pp. 70-71), because “the diverse world is no more than the incarnation of the spirit of the universe: where life reaches, it changes into various phenomena and shows through every visible thing in the Flower Garland;8such process, as we know, originally is an important prime motive of life” (“這大千世界不過(guò)是宇宙底大靈底化身：生機(jī)到處，它便幻化和表現(xiàn)為萬(wàn)千的氣象與華嚴(yán)的色相一一表現(xiàn)，我們知道，原是生底一種重要的原動(dòng)力?！? (Liang, 2006, Vol. 2, pp. 70-71). Liang perhaps finds the similarity between Baudelaire and Oriental Buddhism, just like Kuriyawaga, but he understands Symbolism deeply. For Liang, “the way of Symbolism can be explained by one word—correspondence” (“象征之道也可以一以貫之，曰，‘契合’而已?！? (Ibid., Vol. 2, p. 68). I believe that Baudelaire’s “correspondence” and Kuriyawaga’s “universality” are connected, or, in fact, mean the same thing. They both work, according to Liang, through the pulse that all lives in the universe share, as if echoing the same sound wave. In “Gained from the Music of Beethoven”, Shen declares “music, indeed, has its greatness, / it is told through theuniversal9emotion, / it is fairer and purer than words / and full of friendship and true love” (“音樂(lè)實(shí)有它的偉大，/ 即訴之于共通情感，/ 比文字語(yǔ)言更公正，純粹，/ 又充滿(mǎn)人的友愛(ài)和至情?！? (Shen, 2009, Vol. 15, p. 222). I believe that, here, Shen’s “universal emotion” (“共通情感”) comes from the same thing Kuriyawaga’s “universality” (“共通性”), if not directly from it. Music is fairer and purer than words because it connects lives; it passes through senses rather than through rationality.

Both Liang and Shen imply that we are nothing but one part of the universe, and, when they mention life, it is not only a person’s actual life, but also, more metaphorically, a greater life. For Shen, life cannot be congealed because the pulse needs to be carried on. Through music, or the kind of poetry that is “l(fā)ike music”, this life can reach further.

In conclusion, even though Xu Zhimo and Liang Zongdai seemed to belong to different schools of Chinese writers, they must have more or less received influence from French Symbolism. While Xu Zhimo, despite his accurate insight into the essence of Baudelaire, only had a rather perceptual understanding of Symbolism, Liang, on the contrary, truly grasped the core of the Symbolist relationship between music and literature. Therefore, Liang Zongdai can be considered a very important influence on Shen’s understanding of Symbolism and the relationship between words and music. Shen may also have gained a broad perceptual idea from Xu Zhimo that “everything is music”, and shared the fear of many writers that no human art can capture beauty and truth. However, being an editor ofTa Kung Pao’s literary supplement and a friend of Liang, Shen achieved a more rational and systematic idea of Symbolism and music from Liang’s theories, and pushed his own works into a more abstract universe. This kind of discussionabout music and literature can bring writers from different backgrounds together because they, like all humans, share the same ultimate spiritual pursuit of beauty. It is easy for them to turn to French Symbolism because this school of poetry initiates deep discussion of such matter. Infinite beauty, or truth, is a most abstract concept; thus it is not difficult to understand why writers would constantly connect it with the most abstract form of art—music (whether audible or inaudible).

Notes

1 All translations in this article, unless otherwise noted, are by the author.

2 “The appreciation of all kinds of art, which is also the sense of resonance, is founded upon generality, universality, and permanence” (“一切藝術(shù)的鑒賞即共鳴感，就以這普遍性、共通性、永久性作為基礎(chǔ)而成立的。”) (Kuriyagawa, 2000, p. 66).

3 [He is the nightingale; the nightingale is him. When the nightingale sings low, he sings low; and when the nightingale sings loud, he sings loud […] The dark night is filled with music – so he rushes to the epilogue with the word and sound “forlorn” to return to the motive […] The connection of sounds and tones and the turning of it are also very natural; in the end, he mixes the two opposite motives, and finishes with the waking (reality) and dream (the imaginary world). It is like throwing a stone into the deep pond of the valley, and you hear the loud, clear, and consonant sound, with lingering aftersound in the valley […] The music is finished, the dream has ended, the blood is dried up, the nightingale is dead! But the aftertaste will always echo lightly in the universe…]他就是夜鶯；夜鶯就是他。夜鶯低唱時(shí)他也低唱，高唱時(shí)他也高唱[...]黑夜里已經(jīng)充塞了音樂(lè)——所以在這里最高的急調(diào)尾聲一個(gè)字音forlorn里轉(zhuǎn)回到那一個(gè)動(dòng)機(jī)[…]音調(diào)的接合，轉(zhuǎn)變處也極其自然；最后揉合那兩個(gè)相反的動(dòng)機(jī)，用醒（現(xiàn)世界）與夢(mèng)（想象世界）結(jié)束全文，像拿一塊石子擲入山壑內(nèi)得深潭里，你聽(tīng)那音響又清切又諧和，余音還在山壑里回蕩[…]音樂(lè)完了，夢(mèng)醒了，血嘔盡了，夜鶯死了！但他得余韻卻弱弱的永遠(yuǎn)在宇宙間回響著…… (Xu, 1983, Vol. 3, p. 78)

4 [Sicong learned from the composer, the conductor, and the instrumental solo process many things that were not easy for us to acquire. Zongdai had some appreciation of the history of music, something to talk about in the drawing room as well as something about literary ideas.]思聰從作曲者，指揮及種種器樂(lè)的獨(dú)奏過(guò)程，領(lǐng)會(huì)了許多我們不易學(xué)習(xí)的東西。宗岱得的音樂(lè)史中一些欣賞印象，一些在客廳中可以增加談風(fēng)的東西，也可能得到些文學(xué)思想上的東西。 (Shen, 2009, Vol. 19, p. 178)

5 Yao Nai (or Yao Jichuan), a late 18th-century to early 19th-century Chinese scholar, had a theory, in which he categorised arts into four types—“masculine”, “strong”, “feminine”, and“gentle” (“陽(yáng)” “剛” “陰” “柔”)—or, roughly, into two categories of “virile” (“陽(yáng)剛”) and“effeminate” (“陰柔”). It has nothing to do with genders, but the former means a majestic type of art and the latter means a more graceful type and that “the charm of the music will linger and the meaning of the music is deep and far-reaching” (“韻味深遠(yuǎn)”) (R. Zhu, 2004).

6 The quote is in French, and Li quotes it as “Soyons scandaleux sans plus vous gêner”, to be exact.

7 “Goethe answered, ‘It is the great and noble privilege of music to create a mood within us without using ordinary exterior means for the purpose’” (Rolland, 1968, p. 127).

8 A Buddhist term which refers to theFlower Garland Sutra, also known asAvatamsaka Sutra, which expresses the idea that the cosmos consists of realms containing realms, infinitely: “All in One, One in All. The All melts into a single whole” (Dumoulin, 1994, p. 47).

9 I believe here the word “universal” (“共通 (gong tong)”) comes from “universality” (“共通性(gong tong xing)”), thus the translation.

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(Copy editing: Curtis Harrison)

About the author

Qianwei He (qianweihe@hotmail.com) obtained the degree of PhD in Comparative Literature from the University of Edinburgh, United Kingdom, in 2016. The title of her PhD thesis is “Western Influence and the Place of Music in the Works of Shen Congwen”. Her research interests include, but are not limited to, Word and Music Studies, Modernism, and the comparison between Western and Chinese literature. She is now lecturing and researching at the School of Foreign Languages, Soochow University, China.