In January 764, a court decree came to Dangtu County. It appointed Li Bai as a counselor to the emperor. It was an honorary title, but still a significant post in the palace. At long last Bai had been summoned to the capital once more: when the new emperor had demanded that officials at all levels recommend talents to court, someone (perhaps also several others) had submitted Li Bai’s name. The decree threw the government of Dangtu County into commotion, because no one knew where Li Bai was. By now he had been dead for more than a year.
Li Bai’s friend Wei Hao was also unaware of his death. In 763, fulfilling the promise he had made to Bai nine years before, he published a book of the poet’s writings, Collected Works of Academician Li. In addition to the manuscripts that Li Bai had entrusted him with, Wei Hao added other poems of Bai’s that he had come across since 754. In his preface, Wei believes that his friend is still alive: “Li Bai is still writing, and I will leave this project in the hands of my son, who will bring out a new edition of Li Bai’s poems.” Wei Hao’s edition was neglected and soon lost. Not until 1068 was it rediscovered. Around the same time as the appearance of Wei Hao’s book, Bai’s uncle, Li Yangbing, published his own collection of Bai’s poems, Straw Cottage Collection. In the preface, Yangbing writes, “Nine out of ten of his poems are lost. What this book contains are mainly the poems written during Bai’s last eight years, as well as poems that Bai had got back from others.” During his later years, Li Bai asked people to give him copies of the poems he had written for them so that he could collect as many of them as possible. These two collections have formed the basis of his works we have today, which in total are about a thousand poems and essays.1
In the decades following Li Bai’s death, the public seemed to forget him, but the younger generation of Tang poets cherished and celebrated his poetry. Some even went to visit his grave. Bai Juyi was one of them. In 799 Juyi, twenty-nine years old, arrived in Dangtu to pay homage to Li Bai. He managed to find his grave among the weeds and brambles on a riverside and wrote this poem:
采石江邊李白墳 繞田無限草連雲
可憐荒壟窮泉骨 曾有驚天動地文
但是詩人多薄命 就中淪落不過君
《李白墓》
On the bank of Caishi River is Li Bai’s grave
Surrounded by wild grass that stretches to clouds.
How sad that the bones buried deep in here
Used to have writings that startled heaven and moved earth.
Of course, poets are born unlucky souls,
But no one has been as desolate as you.
“AT LI BAI’S GRAVE”
Others were also seeking traces of Li Bai. More than fifty years after his death, Fan Chuan Zheng, a royal inspector, came to Xuan Prefecture, in which Dangtu County lay. Fan had been searching for Li Bai’s grave and descendants: he was an admirer of Bai’s work and, through the correspondence left behind, had discovered that his father had been friends with the great poet. With the help of Dangtu County’s magistrate, Fan located the grave, which was almost invisible among wild grass.
It took three more years for them to find Li Bai’s descendants—his granddaughters. One day, two women in their thirties reported to the county’s administration. Their clothes were made of coarse fabric, patched but clean and neat. Fan could tell that they were peasant women. They seemed slightly nervous in front of the officials but remained composed. As the magistrate questioned them, they confirmed that Li Bai had been their grandfather and Boqin their father. So the officials invited the women to sit down. Fan explained to them that his own father had been a friend of their grandfather’s and that he, Fan, had studied Li Bai’s poems and essays since his childhood. Needless to say, he loved their grandfather’s writings, and he wished to converse with them.
The two women looked bewildered. They seemed to be illiterate and to have no knowledge of poetry. All they could do was give brief answers to Fan’s questions. Their father had died twenty years earlier, and before that he had worked at a salt station. They also had a brother, who had left home to seek his fortune elsewhere long ago. They hadn’t heard from him for twelve years.
But how did they make their living now? Fan asked. Then he realized they were both married, and went on to ask about their husbands.
They answered that they had both married peasants and that their families grew crops to support themselves. One of the husbands was named Chen Yuan and the other Liu Quan.
But how did their families manage? the county magistrate put in.
They replied that they just had enough to eat.
The officials all sighed. Fan then asked the two women whether he could do anything to assist them.
They said they hoped that Fan could have their grandfather’s grave moved to Green Hill in the south of the county. That was where Li Bai had hoped to be buried; Green Hill was also called Master Xie’s Hill, because Xie Tiao, Bai’s literary hero, had once lived there.
Fan agreed to have a new grave built for Li Bai. When he asked if they had any other requests, they demurred.
The county magistrate whispered to the royal inspector for a moment. Then Fan turned to the women and said he could find them each a more suitable husband, since they had married so humbly.
The women were taken aback but regained their composure. They told Fan that their poor marriages had been their lot and were now also their duties, so they could not remarry. If they left their husbands for a more comfortable life, when the time came they would feel too ashamed to face their grandfather underground.
Fan Chuan Zheng complied with their wish. The local government granted their families exemptions from taxes and corvées. Later Fan wrote the text for the stone erected at Li Bai’s new grave. In the essay, which is another major source of information on Li Bai, he recorded his meeting with Bai’s two granddaughters and stated that although they both were married to poor men and led a hard life, their dignified manner still revealed traces of Li Bai.