This work, also known as the “Preface to the Poems Collected from the Orchid Pavilion,” written in the mid 4th century, is one of the classics of Chinese calligraphy and literature. Here is the whole text with links to the individual phrases/sentences and the Chinese original:*
It is the ninth year of Emperor Mu of Jin’s Yonghe era, the year of the Yin Water Ox, at the beginning of the third lunar month. We are all gathered at the orchid pavilion in Shanyin County, Guiji Commandery, for the Spring Purification Festival. All of the prominent people have arrived, from old to young. This is an area of high mountains and lofty peaks, with an exuberant growth of trees and bamboo. It also has clear rushing water, reflecting the sunlight as it flows past either side of the pavilion. The guests are seated side by side to play the drinking game where a wine cup is floated down the stream and the first person sitting in front of the cup when it stops must drink. Although we lack the boisterousness of a live orchestra, with a cup of wine here and a reciting of poetry there, it is sufficient to allow for a pleasant exchange of cordial conversation. Today, the sky is bright and the air is clear, with a gentle breeze that is blowing freely. When looking up, one can see the vastness of the heavens, and when looking down, one can observe the abundance of things. The contentment of allowing one’s eyes to wander is enough to reach the heights of delight for the sight and sound. What a joy! Now, all people live in this world together. Some will take all of their aspirations, and share them in private with a friend; others will abandon themselves to reckless pursuits. Even though everyone makes different choices in life, some thoughtful and some rash, when a person meets with joy, he will temporarily be pleased, and will feel content, but he is not mindful that old age will soon overtake him. Wait until that person becomes weary, or has a change of heart about something, and will thus be filled with regrets. The happiness of the past, in the blink of an eye, will have already become a distant memory, and this cannot but cause one to sigh. In any case, whether life is long or short, we will all turn to dust in the end. The ancients have said, “Birth and Death are both momentous occasions.” Isn’t that sad! Every time I consider the reasons for why the people of old had regrets, I am always moved to sadness by their writings, and I cannot explain why I am saddened. I most certainly know that it is false and absurd to treat life and death as one and the same, and it is equally absurd to think of dying at an old age as being the same as dying at a young age. When future generations look back to my time, it will probably be similar to how I now think of the past. What a shame! Therefore, when I list out the people that were here, and record their musings, even though times and circumstances will change, as for the things that we regret, they are the same. For the people who read this in future generations, perhaps you will likewise be moved by these words.
In western literature and art from antiquity through the middle ages, one of the standard expressive scenarios is a beautiful landscape or garden or natural setting that provides a backdrop for ideal human activity such as philosophical reflection or love. The great German literary scholar Ernst Robert Curtius referred to this expressive device (or topos ) as the locus amoenus, the “pleasant place” or “pleasance.” The Lántíngjí Xù was the foundational text for a particular East Asian tradition of the locus amoenus, the “Winding stream party,” combining the beautiful natural setting with a drinking party and a poetry reading. Think of a group of men like in Plato’s Symposium (“drinking party”), but gathering outside in the garden and seeking to outdo each other in poetry rather than in philosophical arguments.
Much has been written on the philosophical background of the Lántíngjí Xù, in which Confucian and Daoist reflections reveal the influence of Buddhism, at that time recently arrived in China. What speaks most to me personally is the way the idyllic is interwoven with melancholy fatality, a memento mori, in the middle part of the text:
Even though everyone makes different choices in life, some thoughtful and some rash, when a person meets with joy, he will temporarily be pleased, and will feel content, but he is not mindful that old age will soon overtake him. Wait until that person becomes weary, or has a change of heart about something, and will thus be filled with regrets. The happiness of the past, in the blink of an eye, will have already become a distant memory, and this cannot but cause one to sigh. In any case, whether life is long or short, we will all turn to dust in the end. The ancients have said, “Birth and Death are both momentous occasions.” Isn’t that sad!
In this regard, the Orchard Pavilion Preface recalls the French baroque artist Nicolas Poussin’s painting Et in Arcadia Ego (1638), which similarly combines the themes of human community in an idyllic natural setting with the memento mori. A group of beautiful young people, wandering in Arcadia, has just come across a grave. The inscription reads ET IN ARCADIA EGO. This can be interpreted in two ways: “I too was in Arcadia,” in remembrance of the deceased; or “Even in Arcadia, there I am,” with ego being the voice of death. (Fans of Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited will recall that the first part of the novel, in which the narrator Charles Ryder recounts the idyll of his friendship with the doomed young dandy Sebastian Flyte, bears the title Et in Arcadia ego, with both senses of the title resonating).
* The translation is that on the Wikisource page, with slight mofifications.
Sagemære 