Rambling around my ancestral Hainan
Wugong (Five Officials) Temple, celebrating the famous exiles
Three hundred metres from our hotel is Wuzhishan Road. There, we board a No. 41 bus, which brings us along Haifu Road to Wugong Temple in Qiongshan district. Occupying sixty-seven thousand square metres of land, this temple-cum-park is located three hundred metres after Haikou East Station, and five kilometres southeast from Haikou city centre. We drop off at the bus stop. But the long dull-red concrete wall offers no sign to indicate the direction to its entrance. Should we turn left? Or right? We decide on left.
Haifu Rd (bus going to Haikou central), Wugong Temple (right), 169 Haifu Rd, Qiongshan district.
海府路 (公共汽车去海口中心), 五公祠 (右边), 169号 海府路, 琼山区
Paved with reddish-brown bricks, the walkway is broad and shaded under the overhanging branches of fig trees. Only a handful of people stroll by. The adjacent lane for bicycles, motorcycles, and trishaws is not crowded. A short distance later, we enter into the lobby of a small hotel. The young girl sweetly tells us to reverse our direction. Unhassled, I stand momentarily along the walkway to admire the majestic banyans, their graceful aerial roots gently swaying at the touch of the light passing breeze.
Before the entrance to the enclosed Wugong park is Wugong Vanilla Goose Restaurant. What is “vanilla goose”? We have no time to find out.
At the small, nondescript entrance office, we pay the admission fee of 20 RMB ($4). Then we stride further in and hand our tickets to the lady in a small counter under the leafy branches of some trees. Tied to two tree trunks on either side of the narrow lane is a red cloth banner, indirectly signalling the direction.
Wugong Temple, park entrance (former entrance)
五公祠, 公园大门 (旧大门)
Continuing two hundred metres, we reach an old red building on our left. We have a choice of entering via its flight of stairs, or turning right and trodding across the pathway between two ponds towards an impressive modern building. Thinking that the latter houses the famous Wugong Temple, I opt for it.
Go left?
走左?
Or go right?
还是走右?
Gleefully, we stand between the two man-made ponds, admiring the quaint artificial islet in one pond and a connecting concrete arched bridge in traditional Chinese design on our right. Arched bridges are typical features in Chinese towns and villages, which are often built near their water supply. On the islet is a solitary man practicing his taiji sword routine. The lotus flowers in this pond are flourishing and blooming but not those in the pond on our left.
Across the narrow Meishe River is a flat paved zigzag bridge, which is eccentric but charming. The river is shallow, its yellow mud exposed at some spots by the recent seasonal drought. Dredging work is continuing on the soil between the modern building and the blocks of flats to the left. Huge precast concrete tubes, temporarily strewn on the river bed, will later be connected to form a drainage tunnel in the excavated site. The murky water is still. No fish surfaces; no bird is in sight or flight. That is a disappointment. Perhaps they will return when the river is flowing with aquatic life after the extant development.
We could stay for hours just to admire the exotic features of the bridges and ponds. But our aim is to inspect the interior of the famous temple.
Ponds between Wugong Temple and Haikou Museum
五公祠和海口博物馆之间的池塘
Two black panels flank the entrance to the new building, which turns out to be Haikou Museum. Each panel consists of five black marble slaps on which are chiselled five famous notables associated with the island. The portraits include the five court officials exiled to Hainan. We enter and wander around the rooms for an hour. Photographs in one room reveal the historic buildings as well as future projects in Haikou. Missing, however, from the museum are the usual Chinese dynastic ceramics and curios. But the museum is still in the early juncture of development. We exit.
Haikou Museum, a new building
海口市博物馆，新馆
Secreted behind the red two-metre high wooden screen at the entrance of the “red building” is the compound of the “temple”. This “red building” is actually not a building, but a wall enclosing the compound. Initially, the screen obstructs our vision of the several buildings that occupy the compound. Only when we have stepped behind it do we grasp the extent of the compact 0.67-acre (or 2,800 square-metre) compound.
In front of us is Sugong Temple. On our left is a small archway in the shape of a moon. It is the gate to the “First Building”. On our right is also a similar moon gate to Fubo Temple. A quick walk through all the moon gates shows that the whole compound is divided into four courtyards. These courtyards are separated by walls with narrow, traditional Chinese moon gates for visitors’ passage.
Su Officials’ Temple facing Wugong Temple compound entrance
苏公祠在五公祠的后面
In each courtyard is a major building. From left to right, they are: Five Officials’ Temple (五公祠; Wugong Ci), Su Officials’ Temple (苏公祠; Sugong Ci), and Two “Wave-Suppressing” Generals’ Temple (两伏波祠; Liang Fubo Ci), and “Cleaning-Heart” Porch or Pavilion (洗心轩; Xixin Xuan). In the extreme left courtyard are also three smaller buildings: Five Officials’ Teaching Room (五公精舍; Wugong Jingshe), “Studying Gardening” Hall (学圃堂; Xuepu Tang), and “Observing Crops” Hall (观稼堂; Guanjia Tang). All of these memorial “temples” and study halls of various sizes are constructed - in a sense - in a row.
Sketch of Wugong Temple compound
五公祠地区的示意图
Our swift survey also shows that their walls, doors, window panels, and structural pillars are painted in red, an auspicious colour in Chinese culture. Even the altar cloth is red. Although the buildings are enclosed within a small compound, their artistic and symmetrical arrangement and paved walkways under the shady branches of healthy green trees offers a cosy haven, where a visitor may blissfully rest.
Entering Wugong Temple courtyard
进入五公祠庭院
In this serene setting, the main, yet unobtrusive, building is the Five Officials’ Temple, where my wife and I begin our self-guided tour. While she immediately occupies herself photographing the statues, plants, flowers, trees, and buildings - indeed, anything that catches her whims! - I stand in momentary silence directly in front of the entrance to that brilliant-red two-storey wooden building. It is ten metres in height with a three-panel door entrance. Then I glance around.
Wugong Temple: two-storey wooden building
五公祠: 两层楼的木结构建筑
Two metres to my left is the life-size stone statue of a slim Zhao Ding standing on a whitish square granite pedestal that is higher than my waist. He is facing me. But his slender face looks slightly downwards and towards his left. His right hand clutches the right helm of his upper gown while the back of his left hand rests on his left waist. The same distance to my right is a similar statue of a well-built Li Gang. His back is facing me. I drift closer. He is wearing a strange official hat, and his broad face displays a scowl. He is staring straight ahead. His straight right arm with clenched fist is by his right side while his left hand with prominently bulging veins is holding the handle of his sword that is hidden behind his back. He is poised to strike at his country’s foes.
Li Gang (李纲; 1083-1140), left; Zhao Ding (趙鼎; 1085-1147), right
李纲 (公元 1083-1140), 左边; 趙鼎 (公元 1085-1147), 右边
Slowly gazing upwards above the entrance of the building, I notice some similarities in the wooden framework of the balcony and the entrance: their three unshut doors, their overhead plaques, and the ventilation windows with identical patterns behind the plaques. If not for its heraldic colour, the golden chiselled frame enclosing the Chinese characters 五公祠 (Wugong Ci) on the black plaque above the ground entrance, and a similar plaque with traditional characters 海南第一樓 (Hainan Di Yi Lou) above the balcony entrance, this temple appears to be the villa of a wealthy merchant.
As I cautiously tread up the steep and narrow stairs to the first floor, I ruminate over the phrase “The Number One Building in Hainan”. What does that mean? How can it be the “Number One” building in Hainan when it is surrounded by towering office blocks? Like the hall below, the hall on this floor is also spacious, being devoid of furniture. Both have the combined floor space of about five hundred and sixty square metres. I pause, and extract my pocket dictionary from my backpack. “Di yi” can also mean “first”. Is this the “first” building in Hainan? Is this the “first” surviving ancient building in Hainan?
Constructed during Ming emperor Wanli’s reign (1572-1620) and rebuilt in 1889, the Wugong Temple commemorates five of the notable officials who were banished to Hainan during the Tang and Song dynasties, some of whom later died in Hainan. Besides Li Gang and Zhao Ding, the other three were Li Deyu, Li Guang, and Hu Quan. They were too brave, or too foolhardy, to offer constructive criticisms, which were misconstrued as obstructive or treasonous by their recipients. Although ministers had been banished or exiled to various parts of China, those crossing the forbidding Qiongzhou Strait did so in great disgrace and shame. And trepidation. To all, they were exiled to the very edge of civilization, to a land of suffering, to a life of uncertainty in an island predominated by hordes of unpredictable barbarians.
Suffered they did. Up until the twelfth century, Hainan Island was so desolate that an exile here was a prospect scaring the wits out of civil servants and political offenders. A son-in-law of Du Huangshang, who was prime minister under tenth and eleventh Tang emperors Shunzong and Xianzong, Wei Zhiyi (Wade-Giles: Wei Chih-i, 765-807 A.D.) was the first recorded sufferer from the psychological disorder of map phobia. He had such an anxiety of maps that he instinctively shut his eyes whenever a map of the South was brought before him. He eventually became prime minister. Given an official quarter, he was so terrified that he could not bring himself to look at the map on its wall. When he finally worked his courage to unshut his eye, a map of Yazhou (崖州; Wade-Giles: Yai-chou) confronted him.
Established by the Liang dynasty, Cliff Prefecture was situated in northeastern Hainan, in the vicinity of modern Haikou City. In 972, it was merged with neighbouring Qiongzhou Prefecture (琼州; Wade-Giles: Ch’iung-chou) to its west, and its name “Yazhou” was transferred to the southern prefecture of Zhenzhou (振州; Wade-Giles: Chen-chou, roughly modern Sanya). In 1073, southern Yazhou was renamed “Zhuya” (珠崖; Wade-Giles: Chu-yai). Ironically, northern Yazhou was the place of banishment for the ex-prime minister after his failed attempt in 805 to wrestle control of the Tang administration. He died in that forsaken land.
Wei Zhiyi (Wade-Giles: Wei Chih-i, 765-807 A.D.), exiled to Hainan
韋執誼 (公元 765-807), 流放到海南岛
Some two decades earlier, Yang Yan (Wade-Giles: Yang Yen, 727-781) was also exiled to northern Yazhou, where he was forced to commit suicide.
He was almost executed on a previous occasion. In 777, his mentor, chancellor Yuan Zai, was executed for corruption by eighth Tang emperor Daizong. Yang was fortunate, being only demoted and banished to a remote region in Hunan. When the emperor died two years later, he was recalled to become a minister under emperor Dezong.
An excellent calligrapher, Yang Yan is noted in Chinese economic history for introducing the “Double Tax” system to solve the economic mess following General An Lushan’s 755 rebellion against sixth Tang emperor Xuanzong, who is better known in history for his romance with concubine Yang Guifei.
Luoyang and Chang’an, the two Tang co-capitals in northern China, were lying in ruins from the resulting wars. The Silk Route trade was disrupted. At its height during the seventh century, Chang’an had a population of more than a million people. They fled. Surrounding fields were uncultivated. An Lushan nearly succeeded in his aspiration to rule the empire when he drove the emperor from the co-capitals. But he and his son were later assassinated. The resurrected Tang dynasty took ten years to bring the other rebels to heel.
Yang Yan lived through those harrowing times. The equitable equal-field tax system, introduced by earlier Tang rulers, was no longer functional because the government had lost large tracts of land through grants and privatization of fields, and exploitative landowners had also unscrupulously seized small owners’ farms to increase their holdings. Yang’s system imposed a heavier tax on property value (which would disadvantage these large landowners and businesses) and a biannual tax collection (in spring and autumn, which will spare struggling peasants from monthly or even fortnightly tax payments demanded by greedy low-ranking bureaucrats). His mistake, however, was to antagonize Dezong.
A century later, General Li Hu was exiled to Hainan because of a military failure. Foolishly seeking fame, the Protector of Annam left his province to recover Bozhou in Guizhou in 860. Bo Prefecture was conquered a year earlier by the Nanzhao kingdom from Yunnan. During the general’s absence, Southern Zhao soldiers, with the aid of natives suffering under Annam leaders’ oppression, seized the Annamese capital Jiaozhou (modern Hanoi).
In response, the Tang emperor diverted troops from adjacent regions. Together, General Li successfully re-captured Annam. He was not rewarded for his later success; instead, he was punished for his earlier mistake. Not surprisingly, he and the previous two Tang officials were not commemorated in Wugong Temple.
Another Tang official was. Li Deyu was prime minister during the ninth century. He was and still is famous for his four-line Jue Ju (curtailed) poem, which describes Hainan Island as the "gate of hell".
一去一万里， Yi qu yi wan li，
千之千不还。 qian zhi qian bu huan。
崖州在何处， Yazhou zai he chu，
生度鬼门关！ sheng du gui men guan!
My crude translation tells me: “One goes a thousand miles; thousands upon thousands do not return. Whereabout is Yazhou? Born from the gate of hell.”
Li Deyu (787-850 A.D.), exiled to Hainan
李德裕 (公元 787-850), 流放到海南岛
I am perplexed. Hainan was “the gate of hell”? Was Hainan as hot as hell? And were the victims tortured with every instrument conceivable? My susceptible imprint of hell was formed during a primary school excursion to Haw Par Villa in Singapore. Confined to a small knoll in the southwestern part of the island, this tourist attraction boasts captivating and colourful dioramic statuettes, strategically embedded in nooks and corners for maximum impact.
Strapped on slightly-raised platform, liars had their tongues snipped while their bodies agonisingly separated into halves with a huge saw manually operated by two sadists. Seductive prostitutes had their breasts cleaved off with sharp clippers. Boiled in huge pots of oil, some vicious men were screaming. In Biblical stories, hell is a place of eternal fire and brimstone, where the inhabitants are pleading for cold water to quench their thirst and cool their burning bodies.
Did all these vex the political exiles in Hainan? Was the angst or trauma from living among uncouth and uncultured “barbarians” of the South Sea so severe for the officials accustomed to power, prestige, and luxurious lifestyle? Was the place so isolated and forbidding that it was a hell for them? Yes, the costumes and customs of natives were strange. Yes, the dangers on the island during the Tang or Song era were real. In addition to snakes like boas and pythons, wild animals such as aggressive boars and Clouded Leopards freely roamed the lush virgin primeval rainforests that shadowed the tropical island.
Arriving from the revitalising temperate climate of the northern capital, the disgraced ex-officials were lashed by seasonal hot, humid typhoons while swamp mosquitoes kept them alert in the day and awake at night. Tropical diseases took a heavy toll. Just across the strait in Guangdong Province, Huang Chao lost between thirty and forty percent of his troops to malaria after capturing Guangzhou in 879 during a rebellion against the Tang emperor. The rebel leader was killed by his nephew five years later. Needless to say, in Hainan, doctors and drugs were rare. No extended families or friends were there to answer pleas for assistance. The social isolation was total.
Conditioned to wheat noodles and buns, the exiles’ palates required adjustment to the bland taste of unpolished rice. Walking tracks were few; they became muddy after a heavy downpour. Buildings were patchworks of irregular branches, twigs, and coconut fronds. The jungle was impenetrable, and its noises unfamiliar. It was fear that frightened them. Fear of the unknown. Howling though the shadowy dancing bamboo bushes, the violent wind sounded ghostly, thus aggravating the depression of their superstitious minds.
Walking tracks became muddy after heavy rain; violent wind sounded ghostly
步行道成为大雨过后泥泞; 台风幽灵般的声音
I have browsed through a history text on the Tang dynasty to gain an understanding of the context and severity of the banishment penalty. General Li Yuan seized the throne to become the first Tang emperor (Emperor Gaozu, 618-626) after Yangdi’s assassination in 618. Emperor Yangdi had indirectly weakened the thirty-seven year Sui dynasty through his construction of the two-thousand kilometre Grand Canal, reconstruction of the Great Wall, and calamitous military battles against a Korean kingdom. The heavy taxes and extensive conscripted labour imposed upon the people for these projects ignited widespread revolts and national upheaval. A Sui census in 609 showed 8,907,536 families or 46,019,956 people residing in China. With the subsequent peace, the population boomed. A Tang census in 754 showed 9,069,154 families or 52,880,488 people.
Over in Hainan Island, the reverse occurred. At the start of the Sui dynasty in 581, ten townships had been established with a taxable population of nineteen thousand five hundred households. But, by the eighth century, only eleven thousand five hundred and forty-four taxable families were left. Many factors contributed to the fall in the Han Chinese population. One was the inland natives’ deadly raids on the coastal homes during the seventh and eighth century, which coincided with the unrests that broke out in Lingnan (modern Guangdong, Guangxi, and northern Vietnam). Another was the Lao’s invasion of Hainan in 667.
Local and foreign pirates were a scourge too. A very large village of “Po-sse” (Persians) was present in Hainan in 748. A decade later, Arab and Persian pirates from their southern base in Hainan plundered Guangzhou, the trading port on the mainland. To deal with the menace, a naval patrol was formed, quartered in Guangzhou, which had, during the mid-eighth century, a population of about two hundred thousand, among whom were many foreigners “with dusky faces” such as Malays, Indians, and possibly Iranians. Plagued by pirate attacks, many traders from Guangzhou flocked to Vietnam. When peace was restored during the beginning of the ninth century, they trickled back.
A military expedition at the end of the eighth century pacified Hainan Island for the following six decades. During periods of peace, Chinese merchants brought axes, hatchets, tools, salt, and silk to Hainan to barter for the natives’ cotton and sandalwood incense. Braving the hazards, some of these intrepid Chinese became millionaires. In 858, Nanzhao, founded two centuries earlier in Yunnan, captured northern Vietnam and was set to invade Guangxi and Guangdong. As part of the counter-attack strategy, the Tang army moved into Hainan and drove the aborigines into the central highland. After the collapse of the Tang dynasty in 907, Nam-Viet was partitioned among five warlords five years later. But by 917, warlord Liu Yen had vanquished the others and created an independent kingdom of Great Viet, which was renamed the following year as “Han”. Hainan came under the control of Han, based in Guangzhou.
Constant turmoils in the southern regions of China over the last three centuries of the first millennium had thus adversely affected the lives of Hainan residents. As the Han population was small, safety in number was absent. Life was precarious. With a sparse Han population in danger of attacks from pirates and suspicious natives, Hainan was a dreadful place, a hell, for the former Tang prime minister, who had alternating exhilarations and dismays.
His statue stands before me just outside the Number One Building’s right door and in front of Guanjia Hall. Wearing his official gown, belt, and hat, the slender gentleman has a pensive face with eyes that longingly search the horizon, towards his family home.
Li Deyu (李德裕) was born in 787 during the reign of ninth Tang emperor Dezong and died in January 850, thus living and serving during the second half of the Tang dynasty (618-907 A.D.). His pedigree was impressive. His grandfather Li Qiyun was an important official during the reign of emperor Daizong while his father Li Jifu, after a span of exile during emperor Dezong’s reign, became a chancellor to Dezong’s grandson, emperor Xianzong.
When his father was chancellor, Li Deyu served under several regional governors. During the 816-819 period he was the secretary to Zhang Hongjing, the ex-chancellor and new military governor of Hedong Circuit (headquartered in Shanxi). Returning to Chang’an, Li became an imperial censor. The following year the emperor died and was succeeded by his son.
Under twelfth Tang emperor Muzong, Li Deyu won further promotions. For instance, he was an imperial scholar, an official in the Ministry of Public Works, and then supervisor in the Ministry of Civil Service. In 821, he was, however, embroiled in a power struggle against Yuan Zhen’s colleague, Li Zongmin. It started from a case of favouritism and nepotism.
Supervising the imperial examinations, Li Zongmin's subordinate Yang Rushi and Deputy Minister of Rites Qian Hui passed the following people: Li Zongmin’s son-in-law, Yang’s brother, Examination Bureau official Zheng Tan’s brother, and military governor (and former chancellor) Pei Du’s son. A complaint against the two supervising officials was lodged by imperial scholar Li Shen and military governor Duan Wenchang (who was a former chancellor). After listening to the opinions of other imperial scholars, one of whom was Li Deyu, the emperor dismissed the undeserving candidates and demoted Li Zongmin, Yang, and Qian.
In 823, Niu Sengru, a critic of Li Deyu’s father, was appointed as chancellor. As a contender for the post, Li was disappointed. He was deployed as governor of Zhexi Circuit, his headquarter in Jiangsu. There he restored the impoverished treasury and reformed the social customs. In 825, he courageously addressed a memorial (a memorandum) to newly-enthroned Jingzong, urging him to reform his lust for graft and sex. Although the emperor thanked him, Li was fortunate to escape execution. The emperor was assassinated in 827.
Two years later, emperor Wenzong made him Deputy Minister of Defense. But his rise to power was obstructed when Li Zongmin became chancellor. Vindictive, the latter transferred the junior minister out of Chang’an to be military governor of Yicheng Circuit (headquartered in Henan). In 830, Niu Sengru, the new chancellor, moved Li Deyu even further: to Xichuan (in modern Sichuan). As military governor, the latter strengthened its defense against the Nanzhao attacks.
Chancellor Niu’s downfall was caused by his recommendation rejecting Xidamou’s unilateral offer in 831 to surrender Wei Prefecture, which was captured from the Tang several years earlier by Tufan (now Tibet). When the Tibetan governor made his offer to Li Deyu, the Xichuan military governor endorsed it in his report to the emperor, believing Weizhou could be put to future use in the fight against invading frontier tribes. Upon the emperor’s rejection, Xidamou and his soldiers were repatriated to their Tufan ruler, who promptly executed them for their treason. The emperor regretted his action, leading to the resignation of the chancellor, who was posted to be the military governor of Huainan Circuit in Jiangsu.
Li Deyu was promoted as Minister of Defense in Chang’an. In 833, Li became chancellor while Li Zongmin became military governor of Shannan West Circuit.
But by late 834, Li Deyu fell out of favour for opposing the appointments of some of the emperor’s candidates. He was again sent out of the capital.
However, the fifty-three year old gentleman was fortunate to be recalled in 840 by emperor Wenzong’s twenty-five year old brother. Leading the Li Faction against the Niu Faction, Li Deyu’s power and influence peaked under emperor Wuzong, who reigned from February 840 to April 846. As Left Vice-Director of the Department of State Affairs, which was his official title, the chancellor had precedence over the Right Vice-Director. The directorship was left vacant from the time Li Shimin, who had held the post under his father’s reign, ascended as the second Tang emperor in 626.
Li Deyu’s leadership came at a crucial time, seven months before the Uighur refugee crisis. Inhabiting the Mongolian steppe north of China, the Uighurs had exerted considerable influence in the Tang kingdom ever since their assistance to emperor Xuanzong in suppressing An Lushan’s rebellion from 755 to 762. Three of their leaders had even received royal princesses as wives. Their people grew wealthy through trade, exchanging horses for silk. By the end of the eighth century, they loomed over many tribes around them, including the Kirghiz. But the stability of the Uighur khanate unravelled in 820 when its qaghan (“khan”; sovereign leader) attacked the Kighiz leader, who had provocatively styled himself a “qaghan”. Within the Uighur khanate, succession contest also added to the fire. By 840 the Uighurs suffered a crisis, a conquest by the Kirghiz.
Uighur refugees fled in all directions. The first group appeared in autumn (September 840) near Tiande (about one hundred and fifty kilometres west of modern Baotou), the northern garrison city protected by about a thousand troops. Tang border military commanders were confused and uncertain because little news on the evolving situation filtered through the rugged terrain. Needless to say, information did not travel very fast in those days. Some commanders wanted to kill the refugees, thinking that they were an invading force. Some simply wanted to kill them; they were “barbarians”.
Li Deyu’s governorship of Xichuan provided him with insights into plausible options. Initially, he wrote letters urging them to return and retake their homeland. Slow mails did not alleviate but merely delayed the tension until the following year. During the second half of 841, the refugees were hungry and desperate. To prevent a possible attack on the Tiande garrison for its stockpile, the chief minister petitioned the emperor for the gift of thirty thousand “shi” (about 2, 394 U.S. tons) of food, citing past good relations. Despite objections from other officials, the emperor agreed with Li’s proposal but reduced the quantity to twenty thousand “shi” (about 1,600 U.S. tons). Meanwhile, Li ordered the fortification of the border cities as a precaution.
At the start of 842, a second group of refugees appeared near the border, their leader appealing for the temporary loan of a “city” in the Zhenwu Circuit (around the confluence of Gold River and Yellow River) for shelter. Li politely rejected, listing the reasons. Not only was it unprecedented in Chinese history, it was also demeaning to the Uighurs, said Li. Downcast, the new qaghan subsequently led his group of about a hundred thousand far away from the border. The Taihe Princess, who was the widow of a deceased qaghan and also the paternal aunt of the Tang emperor, was retained as hostage by them.
A conflict arose among the leaders of the first group. Apparently, two leaders were planning an attack against the Tang border. They were betrayed and killed by Ormizt Tigin, who revealed the plan to the Tiande military governor. Ormizt was rewarded. For their submission to the Tiande governor in June 842, he and his group of more than two thousand six hundred high officials, grand chieftains, and cavalry officers were accorded official titles and Chinese names, reflecting their admission into cosmopolitan Tang society. Ormizt (now Li Sizhong) was made Grand General of the Left Imperial Insignia Guard and Prince of the Commandery of Huaihua (“Cherishing Transformation”). These Uighurs were resettled in the border region of Taiyuan.
By refusing to return the Taihe Princess, the Uighur qaghan was rejecting Tang authority, which put him on a war footing with the Tang. His forays on some outlying tribes to obtain food and livestock impaired his cause. After some fruitless negotiations for her return and for their departure from Tang borders, Li Deyu memorialised for an attack against the qaghan. The emperor’s agreement was given in October 842. Preparations proceeded. Horses were to be purchased from the non-Chinese living near the frontier; troops were to be repositioned to buttress the weaker garrisons. Permission was given to the Hedong Circuit military governor to act according to the situation.
Prudently, the governor dispatched a courageous spy, a man who was spared the death penalty for killing another in a fight, into the qaghan’s camp. Claiming that an attack from Zhenwu was imminent, the agent successfully convinced the qaghan to move his camp east to Hedong. The false alarm had also induced some Uighurs to leave the group, thus weakening the leader.
Under the shroud of darkness on a February night in 843, the Tang troops surrounded the camp and launched a victorious attack, rescuing the Taihe Princess. Wounded, the qaghan escaped with hundreds of followers. Living far from the Tang border, his poorly-equipped group, reduced to robbing other tribes for food, was no longer a threat. He was murdered in 846 by either his own minister or an assassin hired by a high-ranking Uighur who was once under Ormizt’s employment.
In his Tang China and the Collapse of the Uighur Empire, Michael R. Drompp wrote: “The threat to China’s northern frontier had been dispelled, thanks to the collaboration of three forces: the border generals and their troops, Ormizt and other submitted Uighurs, and the brilliant mind of Li Deyu.”
A new crisis emerged. In May 843, Governor Liu Conjian of Zhaoyi Province died after an illness, and his family’s control of the province was seized by his nephew Liu Zhen. Zhaoyi enjoyed some degree of independence when military governorship was permitted to be transferred from father to son after the death of Liu Wu in 825. While most court officials recommended a temporary recognition of Liu Zhen’s claim, Li Deyu urged the emperor to attack the usurper. During the campaign, Liu Zhen was murdered by his own followers in 844. As a result, the Tang emperor regained direct control of the territory. Li Deyu was rewarded with the title of defender-in-chief (太尉; taiwei) and enfeoffed as Duke of Wei (Weiguo Gong).
Woefully for Li Deyu, the thirty-one year old emperor died in April 846 after a long span of illness, unintentionally poisoned by the concoctions of Daoist doctors in his court. He was succeeded by his uncle. Uneasy and jealous of Li’s influence, emperor Xuanzong (personal name: Li Yi, later Li Chen) progressively demoted him, firstly assigning him to Hubei and Luoyang, then to Chaozhou on the eastern Guangdong coast in 847, and finally to northern Hainan on 8 October 848.
At Yazhou, the honest and frank Census Officer built a small hut. Most of the Hainan inhabitants, he observed, reared chickens.
“Time and again they fly into my office building. Now I’m going to be just an old man praying to chickens!”
Believe it or not: these Wenchang chickens sleep on tree branches at night
信不信由你：这些文昌鸡在夜间树枝睡觉
Li Deyu died on 26 January 850, aged sixty-three, less than two years into his Hainan exile. In 852, his son Li Ye brought his coffin from Hainan to Luoyang for re-burial. Li Deyu’s honours were posthumously restored a decade later by the next emperor.
Michael Drompp remarked: “…his death no doubt was hastened by his exile to the unhealthy climate of Hainan….”
As I gaze at Li Deyu, my mind drifts back to the sombre words of King Solomon in Ecclesiastes: “Vanity of vanities ... vanity of vanities; all is vanity. What profit hath a man of all his labour which he taketh under the sun?”
Li Deyu had intimations of life’s vicissitudes, basking in national accolade, power, and glory but ultimately suffering courtly displeasure and exile. Famous among his contemporaries, his Pingquan Villa in Luoyang, constructed in 825, showcased a fabulous landscape of rare trees, plants, and also rocks with weird shapes and sizes. These rocks had been specially transported from various regions of China. His passion was not exceptional. Living two centuries later, Su Dongpo too was an avid rock collector. Despite his attachment to his beloved garden, Li Deyu’s wish to bequeath it to his descendants was thwarted. When the Tang dynasty fell a century later, his collection was pilfered during the mayhem.
His hands tucked together behind his back, Li Deyu’s slim body, slender face with long moustache merging with wavy beard, and simplicity of his official gown and hat veil the richness of his history. Few are aware of his great contribution to the Tang Empire and emperors. It is fitting that his statue stands slightly apart from the statues of the four Song exiles, although closer to Li Gang.
Three hundred years after Li Deyu’s death saw the exile to Hainan of these four Song ministers: Li Guang (李光; 1078-1159), Li Gang (李纲; 1083-1140), Zhao Ding (趙鼎; 1085-1147), and Hu Quan (胡铨; 1102-1180). They were extremely unfortunate. They lived through the harrowing Jurchen invasion and capture of their Northern Song capital and territory in 1126. As I stroll to survey the positions of their life-size statues, Li Guang and Hu Quan being stationed closer to Zhao Ding, my memory briefly recalls the inception of the resurrected dynasty they unflinchingly nursed.
Li Guang (李光; 1078-1159) left; Hu Quan (胡铨; 1102-1180), right
李光 (公元 1078-1159) 左边; 胡铨 (公元 1102-1180), 右边
The Song dynasty was founded in 960 when a military general successfully reunited the kingdoms emerging out of the disintegrated Tang. Zhao Kuangyin was later known as emperor Taizu (reign: 960-976). By 971, his forces had conquered the southern territories. To their discovery, the Hainanese coastal regions were still sparsely populated. Besides the indigenous tribes, only a hundred thousand Han Chinese lived on the island.
Although these regions were again subject to raids by inland natives during the eleventh century, overall in China, a century of relative peace had prevailed, permitting the expansion of rice cultivation and a burgeoning population. A census in 1083 showed the presence of 17,211,713 families or about ninety million people (including foreigners), the number increasing to 20,882,258 families or more than a hundred million people in 1123. When Hainan came under Guangxi provincial administration, more Han Chinese migrated to the island. Conditions seemed to be improving.
Northern Song, however, began to crack in 1122 when the eighth Song emperor concluded an alliance treaty assisting the Jurchen tribe (in southern Manchuria) in rebellion against the Khitan Liao dynasty. By doing so, Huizong (r. 1101-1125) had hoped to repossess the Sixteen Prefectures from the Khitans. But having repulsed their Liao overlord, the nascent Jin (Gold) dynasty (1115-1234) turned against its weakened ally three years later. In 1125, its armies were attacking Song territories in the north. And by year end, they besieged Kaifeng, the capital.
Huizong abdicated in favour of his twenty-six year old son, the luckless last Northern Song emperor Qinzong (r. 1126-1127). Huizong was a noted painter and calligrapher. On the courtyard wall of the Liang Fubo Temple in Wugong Temple complex is a stone tablet reproducing his calligraphy. Incidentally, Huizong had sixty-five children, thirty-one of whom were sons, making him the emperor with the most children in China.
Poorly-organized and ill-equipped military defence at Kaifeng permitted the Jurchens to seize it in January 1127 and take as captives the retired and reigning emperors. Accompanied by some three thousand imperial family members and court officials and their families, the former rulers remained imprisoned in the Jin capital for the rest of their lives. (One official and his family later escaped under circumstances deemed by Chinese historians as suspicious.) As the Jin swiftly established its empire over the northern half of the Song Empire, the remnant court fled to the south, initially to Yangzhou on Yangzi River.
Huizong’s ninth son proclaimed himself as emperor. Only nineteen years old, Zhao Gou was a tragic figure. His only son died in a palace accident at the age of three, and his wife was also the Jurchens’ prisoner, their bargaining chip and grip over his future actions. Morosely, he led a demoralised army of barely a few thousand soldiers. The other regiments were scattered throughout the Song Empire under the control of their generals, some of whom later mutinied. Yet the newly enthroned Gaozong (r. 1127-62) could count on, besides patriotic subjects, also loyal officials, who soon formed the cream of the southern Song dynasty. Regrettably, four would be exiled to Hainan.
Of the four, Li Guang was the oldest; he was forty-eight years old when Kaifeng fell. Li Gang was forty-three; Zhao Ding was forty-one; while Hu Quan was twenty-four. But in the Northern Song bureaucracy during its final days, Li Gang was the most senior: he was Grand Secretary and Prefect of Kaifeng. Hu Quan was the most junior: he was preparing for his impending imperial court examinations, which he passed the following year to qualify as an “advanced scholar” (进士; jinshi). Zhao Ding was a minor official in the capital, with the professionalism as magistrate in his home province Shanxi. A native from Zhejiang, Li Guang became a provincial official after graduating as a jinshi at the age of twenty-eight. Even before the national disaster, he had rejected the notion of a peace treaty with the Jurchens.
Hailing from Wuxi (in modern Jiangsu), where his father and grandfather had settled, Li Gang passed his jinshi examinations in 1112 at the age of 29 after an unsuccessful attempt seven years earlier. From his first official appointment in 1114 as a censor, he was later promoted to Vice-Director of the Bureau of Review and then as an Imperial Diarist. In 1125, he was Vice-Minister of Imperial Sacrifices, when the Jurchens attacked the capital, the traumatic event leading him to submit a memorial for Huizong’s abdication. Under Qinzong, he was Vice-Minister of War and, later, Assistant Director of the Right of State Affairs and concurrently Commander of the Imperial Brigade. Being ordered to relieve Taiyuan, he fortunately evaded capture. He joined emperor Gaozong in the south.
To these and other Song officials who had narrowly escaped, the Jurchens’ siege of 1126 and victory of 1127 was devastating. Their brutal war misfortunes and loss of their northern homes were to shape their subsequent attitude towards their enemies. Should they make peace with them? If the Jurchens were unreliable allies, could they be trusted to honour any future peace treaty?
The Southern Song court was disunited. Over the following fifteen years, the forces of Southern Song and Jin were engaged in frequent battles. The Jin troops were attacking territories in the south while pockets of Song guerrilla fighters in the north were harassing their conquerors.
As the first chief councillor of the nascent Southern Song dynasty, Li Gang worked tirelessly for a short period of two and a half months to steel the shell-shocked court for ultimately a counterattack against their foes. He was foremost among the officials advocating a war of resistance. During the mid-1127, more than one hundred thousand Song soldiers in northern China were primed to resist the Jurchens. He sought to strengthen the regions north of the Yellow River with military power or influence by reuniting displaced owners with their deserted homes.
Dismally, his plan met with the strident opposition of wealthy families, whose financial “donations” were encouraged under his proposal. Young emperor Gaozong was also in no mood for war. Preying on his mind was the fact that his older half-brother in captivity would be restored to power after a royal rescue. His four or five older siblings had a better claim to the crown.
Following the advice of the anti-war faction in court, Gaozong removed forty-four year old Li Gang in 1127 and banished him to Wan’an Prefecture (now Wanning City and Lingshui).
Stoically, the exile made his way across Qiongzhou Strait to Haikou and, upon receiving directions, he proceeded to Wan’an. After a long voyage, the exile received unexpected news of his recall. But he would no longer be as influential.
Arriving in southern China as a relatively unknown provincial official, Zhao Ding was recommended to the court by his friend Zhang Jun. A jinshi at the age of twenty-one, his brilliance led to his meteoric promotion from policy adviser to censorial official and then general censor. In 1129, daily news depressed the young emperor: the Jin army was growing stronger, penetrating further south. They fled to Hangzhou (later called Lin’an), where the army mounted a mutiny, forcing Gaozong to abdicate. He was fortunate; he was rescued and reinstated by his quick-witted chief councillor Zhu Shengfei, who delayed the mutineers from killing the emperor. Reinforcements arrived in time.
In anticipation of further Jin attacks, Zhao Ding surveyed and arranged the escape route, via Hangzhou with about fifty ships, each ferrying sixty soldiers accompanied by two family members each. His loyalty to the emperor was unstinting. When the northern resistance movements were ruthlessly crushed by the advancing Jin, the emperor and his selected group of about three thousand were finally forced in January 1130 to make the naval escape, an unprecedented move in Chinese history. Dogged by storms for three days, they successfully eluded pursuit by their enemy’s smaller ships. Other officials and imperial family members were dispersed by land.
Among the members of the emperor’s staff was treacherous Qin Hui. Born in 1090 near modern Nanjing, the talented scholar married a granddaughter of a former chief councillor. Riding on her family’s social standing, he rose to be instructor in the Imperial University in Kaifeng in 1123. Three years later, the Jurchens attacked the capital. Under captivity, he became secretary to emperor Qinzong. Claiming a miraculous escape from his captors, Qin Hui and his family turned up in the southern capital in 1130. Although many Southern Song officials suspected him as a Jurchen spy, chief councillor Fan Zongyin offered his endorsement and the pliable emperor made him Minister of Rites.
Meanwhile, safe from the tempestuous sea, the empress dowager and her overland party were, fortunately, only robbed, not killed, by their mutinous guards when they came under Jurchen attack in Jiangxi. Qin Hui’s father-in-law, the prefect of the area, surrendered to the enemy. Similarly, one of the three chief councillors, Du Chong, handed over Nanjing without resistance, astounding the imperial court.
On his return to Shaoxing, the emperor promoted Zhao Ding to deputy military commissioner. But soon the official, who disregarded the imperial wish on the promotion of some officials, was transferred out as Governor of Suzhou, and then as Governor of Nanjing. In both roles, he was also concurrently the Pacification Commissioner of the eastern Yangzi region. In 1133, he was made Governor of Nanchang on Lake Poyang and Pacification Commissioner of Jiangxi. In all districts under his care, he restored military stability and eliminated banditry.
Twenty-three year old emperor Gaozong reigned but not ruled. He set the general direction while his older ministers in general administration, military, and finance formulated the details and implemented them. At the top of the bureaucracy were usually two or three chief councillors (or chief ministers) – one in control of general administration and the other in control of military. Occasionally, there might be a sole chief councillor or a sole chief councillor with associate councillors.
During the first decade of Gaozong’s reign, the majority of chief councillors hovered approximately a year in their job because of the difficulty of forming and controlling an empire under constant Jin siege. A battle debacle or a regiment’s defection often resulted in dismissal.
Power and status is transient. As we have seen earlier, Gaozong was even forced in 1129 to abdicate but was saved by a timely intervention. In the aftermath of the 1130 chaos, Qin Hui’s promotion was rapid. Within a year of his return, he had become chief councillor. But in 1132, he was dismissed and given a sinecure post, apparently because of the emperor’s momentary displeasure over his capitulatory Jurchen policy.
Known for his dedication, Zhao Ding was recalled in 1134 to act as an associate councillor. When a fresh Jurchen attack came, he advised against another withdrawal, citing improved military readiness; for the Song defense had been steadily building a credible army and navy after suffering from several previous military blunders. Soon, Zhao became the Chief Councillor of general administration. He was working amicably again in 1135 with his friend Zhang Jun, who was the Chief Councillor of military, to improve the efficiency and welfare of the imperial court. Zhao Ding had recommended his recall to the emperor after an earlier dismissal.
Over in the north, the death of the Jurchen emperor saw the instalment of Wanyan Hela (known as Wanyan Dan to the Chinese), who adopted a less aggressive posture against the Song. Qin Hui, who had - prior to his escape - also served Wanyan Hela, was now Prefect of Wenchou.
A major victory against the Jin at Outang led to a split between Zhao Ding and his friend. While Zhao Ding had earlier advocated a retreat and consolidation of the defense, Zhang Jun had advised and staged a military battle. The latter proved to be right. But flushed with confidence after the victory, Zhang Jun pressed for a further attack. Still preferring military consolidation, the gracious Zhao Ding did not wish to criticise or obstruct his friend’s strategy. Instead, he magnanimously recommended the adoption of his colleague’s strategy to the emperor. He also offered his resignation in 1136. The emperor reluctantly released and transferred him out as Governor of nearby Shaoxing, with the proviso that he be available for recall.
1137 marked a turning point in Southern Song history. Qin Hui was summoned back on Zhang Jun’s recommendation, and was appointed also as Chief Councillor (or Commissioner of Military Affairs), an appointment which would have disastrous consequences for many of his critics. Ironically, Zhang Jun was banished; for, in his eagerness to launch a counterattack on the Jurchens, he had replaced an effective general with an inept civil servant, thereby causing the defection of an army of more than thirty thousand soldiers to Liu Yu, an ally of the Jurchens.
Fifty-two year old Zhao Ding was recalled and appointed as Chief Councillor. To no avail, Zhao Ding had pleaded with the emperor to retain his friend in some capacity in the capital. During the year, the Song forces won some battles under the command of General Yue Fei. The tide was turning against the Jin.
Formally reporting the fate of Huizong, who had died two years earlier, the Jin expressed their readiness for a peace pact under which the Song accept vassal status and payment of annual tributes in exchange for the ex-emperor’s body, his wife (emperor Gaozong’s mother), and the regions of Henan and Shanxi. (Not broached in the proposal, Qinzong spent thirty-four years in solitary incarceration, dying in 1161.)
Zhao Ding permitted the Song envoy latitude in negotiating the return of prisoners and amount of annual tributes (250,000 taels of silver and similar amount worth of silk) to be paid. But he insisted on two non-negotiable items: the emperor’s sovereign status and demarcation of the border (which was the old course of Yellow River).
By this time, the twenty-seven year old emperor was disposed again toward a peace treaty. However many officials rejected the humiliating 1138 terms. Instead of a direct rejection of his sovereign’s inclination, Zhao Ding, in deference, suggested a consultation with the generals, knowing full well of their disgust.
Zhao Ding’s suggestion was not embraced. Pandering to the emperor’s desire, capitulationist Qin Hui conspired and undermined Zhao Ding’s authority. Under his instigation, the emperor sacked Zhao Ding and pushed him again to Shaoxing as governor.
Qin Hui became the sole chief councillor, an office he would then hold for almost eighteen years until his death in 1155. He proceeded to dismiss the capable generals, who were eager to recoup their stolen homeland. The peace was made with the Jurchens. Soon Qin Hui transferred Zhao Ding to Fujian.
After Zhao Ding’s resignation, another outspoken opponent of appeasement became Qin Hui’s target. Born in Luling in Jizhou (now Ji’an city, Jiangxi), Hu Quan (informal name: Feng Heng) was twenty-five when he was inducted into the Bureau of Military Affairs (枢密院; Shumiyuan) after his imperial examinations. By 1135, he was its official editor for compiling and revising material. He was a fervent protagonist of the pro-war camp.
In a memorial to the emperor in 1138, the courageous thirty-six year old gentleman denounced the chief councillor and his apologists as traitors for propagating a treaty with their enemy. He even called for their execution. (I later notice this nugget of information on a plaque in Tianya Haijiao Scenic Park, Sanya: Hu Quan demanded the public execution of forty-eight year old Qin Hui, Sun Jin, and Wang Lun to encourage the people of the world!)
Ignoring the emperor’s rejection of his memorial, Hu Quan published and circulated it, resulting in his demotion to Fujian as a notary. The printer was exiled too.
In 1139, a Jurchen usurper successfully seized power, murdering his predecessor. Renouncing the previous agreement, he re-invaded Henan and Shanxi. With the Jurchens’ action vindicating Zhao Ding’s prediction of their untrustworthiness, the deeply embarrassed Qin Hui harassed him even further. Zhao Ding was impeached for the alleged misdeamour of using hundreds of local guards to escort him to Fujian. Meanwhile, Yue Fei’s defeat of the Jurchens enabled him to move into Hebei. Because of the court’s fear of a total war, the general was ordered to retreat to Henan. The resulting military stalemate later prompted another peace overture from the Jurchens.
Tension between the pro-peace and pro-war officials resurfaced in 1140. Qin Hui redirected his fury upon his opponents. Zhao Ding was forced into retirement. Yet even in retirement, he was placed under another nebulous charge and banished to Guangdong. Military commanders zealous for battle were elevated to Court positions in order to deprive them of their command. Their deputies were promoted to their stead, thus ensuring subservience to the Court’s wishes. Qin Hui also commenced total control of the media, the Imperial Library, in an attempt to project a credible image of his legacy.
Yue Fei, who publicly opposed the peace agreement, became a conspiratorial victim. Recalled from the battlefront, he was arrested for treason, imprisoned, and finally murdered at the end of 1141 or early 1142. (A century later, the Jin and Song empires would succumb to the marauding Mongols.) Many other officials were similarly denounced as disloyal to the state and were banished, exiled, or killed. Exile was harsher than banishment. In exile, the victim came under the surveillance of the local magistrate.
Following Qin Hui’s ill advice, the emperor signed another unfavourable compact. Under the Treaty of Shaoxing of 1142, Southern Song renounced all claims to its former territory (north of the Huai River) and also paid annual tribute (until 1164) to the Jin.
To consolidate his power, the nepotistic Qin Hui promoted his family members and maternal relatives. In 1142, his brother was appointed as vice-director of the Imperial Library while his adopted son was initially appointed as an assistant and shortly thereafter its vice-director. The following year, the son was then elevated as its director. In 1144, Qin Hui imposed a ban on private records of contemporary events in an attempt to censor unfavourable commentaries on his actions.
When he persisted with his critical poems against peace with the Jurchens, Hu Quan was reassigned from Fujian to Guangdong in 1142. Two officials, who penned sympathetic poems prior to his departure to Guangdong, were imprisoned or placed under house arrest.
For constantly advocating recovery of Northern Song territory, Zhao Ding was banished to Jiyang Military District (吉阳郡; Jiyang Jun, now Sanya) in September 1144. He stayed with Fei Wenyi in Shuinan Village.
Li Guang was also banished to Hainan in the same year as Zhao Ding. Earlier, in 1138, the prolific writer with extensive provincial administration training was co-opted by Qin Hui as assistant councillor on the expectation that he would persuade the Southern Song elite and middle class to accept the peace deal. But Li’s disposition was similar to Zhao Ding’s: to prepare for war while deceptively engaging in peace negotiations.
A severe critic of the peace proposals, he insisted that the Jins were unreliable partners. He had been in opposition of the territory-for-peace policy even before 1126 and had, during the eleven-thirties, consistently recommended a strengthened defence along Yangzi River, the de facto border with the Jin. He went so far as to acclaim Li Gang as “the subduer of barbarians of the four corners.”
Dismissed in 1139 (or 1140), he returned to his home in Shaoxing with a sinecure post. In 1141, the sixty-four year old official was accused of organizing public demonstrations against the peace treaty and was sent into solitary confinement in Tengzhou, Guangxi. There a prefect entrapped him into writing poems critical of Qin Hui. Thus, in 1144, he found himself in Qiongzhou (now Haikou), where he would spend the next eight years. He courageously began to record his private history in defiance of the chief councillor.
Over at southern Hainan in 1147, Zhao Ding fasted to death, hoping that his death would avert further disaster from striking his family. After his suicide, his family sent his coffin, together with his personal papers, to his native Chuchou (present Wenxi County) for burial. The local magistrate there was the son of former “nefarious minister” Zhang Dun (章惇, 1035-1105).
Under the mistaken supposition that Zhao Ding was related to Zhao Dingzi (趙挺之; Chief Councillor, 1105-1107), he blamed the former for his father’s downfall. Falsely accusing the Zhao’s family of manufacturing illegal alcohol, he instructed the local sheriff to conduct a search. His aim was to acquire Zhao’s personal papers. Despite the immense pressure, the upright sheriff pre-warned Zhao’s family a day before the raid. They burnt his notes.
Out of fear, Li Guang’s family in Shaoxing also flamed his library of more than ten thousand juan (卷; books or volumes).
A year after Zhao Ding’s death, Hu Quan was relegated to Jiyang County for suggesting in his poems the injustice of his banishment to Fujian. Song Zi, the local Li head, respected him, making him a school teacher. His stay lasted seven years, during which time he completed a book, a private history. In 1150 he requested a preface from Li Guang, who had earlier contacted and communicated with him.
Unfortunately, a local informant reported Li Meng-chien’s (1115-1169) recitation of his father’s private history. The son was arrested and exiled to Xiazhou in Hubei while the father was informed of his exclusion from future amnesty and commanded in 1152 to move to Changhua military district (present-day Danzhou City). Receiving news of his son’s plight and notification of his transfer, the elder Li immediately burned his notes, including his draft preface. He declined to re-write the preface, although he did offer a marriage between his granddaughter and Hu’s oldest son. Li Guang died in Hainan. He was in exile for a total of thirteen years.
After Qin Hui’s death, emperor Gaozong attempted to rehabilitate his own reputation, blaming the former for much of the state mismanagement. He dismissed the chief councillor’s sons from their positions and ordered them to return home. Hu Quan was fortunate: he was allowed to move back to Guangdong. The following year (1156), the emperor restored Zhao Ding’s honors.
By 1162 the fifty-four year old childless Gaozong had been in reign for thirty-five years. A tired man, he voluntarily abdicated in favour of his adopted son, his nephew.
Acknowledging that Hu Quan’s banishment was an injustice, emperor Xiaozong recalled him to the capital, where he was given appointments such as personal adviser to the emperor and compiler of the Veritable Records. He finally resigned from the court as “Academician” (学士; Xueshi).
Xiaozong also conferred upon Zhao Ding the posthumous honour “Duke of Loyalty and Unfulfilled, High Aspirations” in 1163. Many Chinese scholars regard Zhao as the best chancellor of the early Southern Song dynasty.
Many Chinese scholars regard Zhao Ding as the best chancellor of the early Southern Song dynasty.
(Statue in Tianya Haijiao Park, Sanya)
许多中国学者认为赵鼎为南宋初期的最好的校长。
Yue Fei too was exonerated by the emperor, who reburied him in Hangzhou. A temple was built in his memory in 1221. After frequent destruction and reconstruction over seven centuries, it was once again renovated in 1923. Kneeling before his mausoleum were four iron statues: Qin Hui, his wife Madam Wang, and their two accomplices (Zhang Jun and Mo Qixie). Over the ages, they were subject to spittle – and even urine - from visitors.
While the appeaser Qin Hui was denounced in Chinese texts as a treacherous traitor, the four Song disgraced exiles and proponents of a strong non-submissive nationalist policy were esteemed as heroes. Their simple statues, standing silently within the courtyard of Wugong Temple, do not adequately reflect their momentous contributions to Chinese history, or offer a hint of their unjust punishments and sufferings.
As I move slowly once again from one statue to the next, and reverentially stand in front of each, my mind nods in assent: Hainan was, for them, their “gate to Hell”.
To the immediate left of “First Building” is Xuepu Hall, a single-storey building. Indeed, the rest of the buildings within the compound are also single-storey. As its name suggests, this hall was once haloed ground to students studying, amongst other things, gardening or farming and listening to lectures by famous Zhejiang scholar Guo Wanxiang, whose personal collection of eight thousand books formed the students’ library. After his death from illness, his collection became the Wugong Library. However, few of the books survived the centuries of pillage.
Today, this room is inexplicably occupied by three old cannons flanked by two Han dynasty bronze bells, one twice the size of the other. The wooden carriages of the cannons have long disintegrated. The barrels are now resting on two rows of low brick “wall”.
Xuepu Tang, “Studying Gardening” Hall
学圃堂
To the left of “Studying Farming Hall” is a long, relatively empty hall, the Wugong Jingshe (The Refined House of Five Lords, or West Hall). Here, a century ago, students analysed historical works and poetry. Today, on its walls are posters containing historical information about Hainan. On one poster is a tiny photograph of the two statuettes of Madame Xian and Feng Bao. In contrast to the several statues of the warrior-goddess, this tiny solitary representation of Feng Bao reflects his lesser significance.
Five Officials’ Teaching Room, or the Refined House of Five Lords
(五公精舍)
To the right of “First Building” is Guanjia Hall, the “Inspecting Crops Hall”. According to the information given on the plaque, this building is not as old as the rest, being constructed only in 1889 and then reconstructed in 1915. The name was initially pinned to the pavilion constructed during the early eighteenth century near Fusu Spring in the extreme right courtyard. Embedded on the wall dividing the first and second courtyards are four tablets.
Strolling through the moon gate, we enter into the courtyard of Sugong Temple.
“This temple is dedicated to the memory of Su Shi and his brother Su Zhe.”
“Su Shi?”
“Yes.” I tell my incredulous, enquiring wife. Su Shi is the famous Song poet, not the Japanese culinary delight “sushi”.
“It is a funny name. Did he invent the sushi?”
I have a chuckle. Su Shi is better known as Su Dongpo (Eastern Slope Su), his nom de guerre. He is a Renaissance man: an artist-calligrapher, pharmacologist, poet, politician, and writer. He was exiled in Hainan from 1097 to 1100, twenty-six years before the agonizing collapse of Northern Song.
Surprisingly, this temple building has no front wall or doors. Won’t the floor be flooded if the rain is too heavy and the wind too strong? I blab to myself. But my mind becomes distracted. Standing prominently in the centre of the hall is the fibreglass statue of Su Dongpo. A small metal plate - five centimetres by seven centimetres - attached to the rear of its base declares its maker:
“T.H. Giam
10 Jalan 27A, Selayang Baru 88100
Batu Caves, Selangor, Malaysia”
According to a young Hainanese guide, who is waiting for clients, it was commissioned by some Singaporean businessmen.
On the walls of the building are large bright and colourful murals depicting principal events in Su Dongpo’s life. Su is wearing a gown with its upper half and long sleeves in brilliant-red, which matches the red pillars supporting the building. The lower half of his gown is beige. He stands out from the other persons. Calligraphic characters are blended into the paintings, which succinctly tell the history of Dongpo Academy. On the stone tablets in the Temple are inscribed his poems and essays.
Su Officials’ Temple
苏公祠
“Calming-Waves General” (“Fubo Jiangjun”) was the title awarded separately to two Han generals after their successful pacification of Hainan’s Li people two thousand years ago. These two military leaders are honoured in the Two Fubo Temple. The door to the hall before me is locked, dampening my expectation of scrutinizing the statues of these two commanders. (On my third trip, the door is open but the hall is empty. On its walls, however, are photographs of old buildings in Hainan.) The black plaque on the exterior wall provides me with this information written in English:
“Lu Bode, Fubo General & Marquis Pili of Western Han Dynasty, and Ma Yuan, Fubo General & Marquis Xinxi of Eastern Han Dynasty, went on the punitive expeditions to Lingnan early or late, established nine counties such as Zhuya, Daner and so on, performed the remarkable meritorious deeds for consolidating the southern frontiers and maintaining the unification of motherland.”
It also adds that Lu Bode (路博德) and Ma Yuan (马援), worshipped by people in many temples scattered throughout Lingnan, were conferred posthumous honours by Song emperor Huizong, and that this temple was constructed in 1915.
I pass through the last moon gate and enter into the courtyard of Dongpo Academy, which ceased operation in 1899, only two decades after its relocation from Danzhou. The academy had educated thousands of students for almost a millennium. A large plaque on the wall to my left attests to its presence. In its place, Qiongyuan (Jade Garden) consisting of pavilions, rockery, and flower beds was created by the local administration sixteen years later (1915). Yes, the Xixin (Heart-cleansing) Pavilion, Millet Spring Pavilion, and Cave Corridor are still there.
What strike me first are the two wells on the lower ground in front of me as I enter the courtyard: the Fusuquan (Floating Millet Spring) Well and the Xixinquan (Heart-cleansing Spring) Well. The first is named for the little bubbles emanating from the well water. Knowing the difficulty of obtaining fresh water, Su Dongpo constructed these two wells for the natives. Was this literary man capable of doing engineering or practical work? Sure. When he was Governor of Hangzhou, he had West Lake dredged and a causeway built, thus ridding the fertile ground of stagnant water and diseases like malaria. The grateful inhabitants there later named the causeway in honour of him; here they commemorate his contribution with a temple.
The wells built by Su Dongpo
这苏东坡建井
The modest poet wrote a poem about the two spring wells. Reproduced from the plaque on the Jiongzhuo Pavilion, its translation reads:
There are Fusu Spring and Xixin Spring at the sides of Jiongzhuo Pavilion.
Mixing the water drawn from the two springs in the bottle,
chilly & dense, an integral whole,
which has been made for tea or cooking,
the people have been profuse in praise with one voice.
From Yangtse River to the Ocean, boundless & unselfish.
Is it possible that because I (Mr Su Dongpo) am a man of integrity,
the fountainhead converged in the Ocean can present such generous gift.
Please go on a tour of this place, everybody,
for drinking the spring water drilled by me and reading & appreciating my poem.
When I glance at the faces of the few visitors in Jade Garden, I see expressions of joy, peace, and tranquillity. Yet, on the very spot where I am standing, exiles over a millennium ago woke up in terror to each new day. They who had contributed so much to the improvement of their society were punished for the most trivial of reasons. Their prestige was gone. Once they were standing on the pinnacle of the world; now they were in the pits, where the “barbarians” roamed. They were far from their relatives and friends; they were far from their familiar world. They saw themselves as castaways in hell. Life did not seem worth living. Did they, in their daily lives, pour scorns upon their emperor and his sycophants, those who had betrayed them?
Su Dongpo was a devout Buddhist. In his Danzhou home were Sixteen Arhats icons before which he regularly placed tea offerings. Interestingly, he wrote to his younger brother Su Zhe: “Whenever a tea offering was made, a transformation occurred, which turned the tea into milky floats.” The miracles. His strong faith had safely carried him through the adversities that afflicted him.
Hidden from view behind the Heart-cleansing Pavilion is a Buddhist temple, which houses a solid bronze sitting Buddha cast here in Fucheng suburb for nearby Tiannan (now Tianning) Temple during the Song dynasty. Plundered and taken to Guangzhou by Japanese troops for transportation to Japan, it was abandoned when they were defeated. Buddha finally finds its way back when the People’s Republic was declared.
Buddha was saved from the plundering Japanese invaders during WW2
菩萨从掠夺日本侵略者保存
Walking out of the beautiful park, I hear again the ringing voice of Solomon: “Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on the labour in which I had toiled; and indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind. There was no profit under the sun.”
Serene is the setting before me. The coconut trees sway with the wind. Green is the dominant colour, my favourite colour. More people are streaming into the park. Do they ever pause and ponder, offering thanks for the blessed lives they are now feteing? Do they whisper a grace to their ancestors who have bequeathed them a Hawaii of the East? Do they even realise they are living in a paradise?
Mainlanders are now clamouring to enter their paradise. Nouveau riche magnates from financial bastions like Beijing, Shanghai, and Hong Kong are snapping up holiday homes. Foreigners too want a piece of the hell that Li Deyu feared. In increasing numbers, tourists are flying to the gate of hell.
Although the West seduces, Hainanese students and residents abroad are returning. At the souvenir shop selling dried fruits, sweets, tins of coffee powder and tea, tee-shirts, and other local products, we meet proprietor Wang Xin (王欣). A fellow Hainanese, she has secured a Masters in Business Administration degree in Canada and has also worked there for several years. But sacrificing a financially rewarding future, she has returned to take care of her husband’s family. Such dedication and devotion to family, especially extended family, is common in Hainan. She and her husband have two children, one aged five and the other aged seven. Her husband Xie Sheng Wen (谢胜文) would establish and manage a similar but larger shop in downtown Haikou two years later.
Wang Xin (王欣), owner of souvenir shop
王欣, 纪念品商店的老板
Wang Xin tells us an interesting story: Li Gang’s descendants from his ancestral village of Shaowu, Fujian Province, have made regular visits to Wugong Temple to pay homage to their illustrious progenitor. “That is wonderful. It is good to know that they have such a courageous man as their ancestor,” I happily remark.
For souvenir, this pretty lady recommends the tin of “3-in-1” coffee powder. She makes a sample. A mix of locally produced coffee powder, skim milk, and sugar, it tastes superb. After an enlightening conversation, my wife and I take the same bus back to the hotel at three in the afternoon. We have dim sim at the café beside our hotel entrance.
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