Well-versed in Life

It was 1974, and the 50-year-old tenured professor at the University of British Columbia (UBC) was making her first trip to Beijing after the normalization of diplomatic relations between China and Canada.　

As her plane descended, Yeh was overcome with emotion. Spotting an illuminated street below, she wondered if it was Chang’an Avenue, the capital’s central artery. “Tears streamed down my face as I guessed whether it was the street of my childhood,” she recalled in the documentary Like the Dyer’s Hand, which premiered in 2020.　

Yeh passed away on November 24, 2024 in Tianjin, aged 100.　

Born into a scholarly Manchu family in a large courtyard house near western Chang’an Avenue, Yeh’s affluent upbringing was steeped in classical Chinese poetry which would profoundly shape her life. She graduated from the Chinese department of the former Fu Jen Catholic University in Beijing (now part of Beijing Normal University) in 1945 but did not gain widespread recognition for her research until 1954, when she was invited to teach at National Taiwan University.　

She became a professor there the following year and also lectured at Tamkang University in New Taipei City and her alma mater, Fu Jen Catholic University in Taiwan, on Tang Dynasty (618–907) poetry, Song Dynasty (960– 1127) ci (lyric poetry) and Yuan Dynasty (1271-1368) drama.　

“I would sometimes skip other classes just to attend Professor Yeh’s lectures,” recalled Pai Hsien-yung, the 87-year-old Chinese-American writer, in the documentary. “She played a crucial role in my poetic awakening.”　

In 1966, Yeh moved to the US to teach traditional Chinese poetry, first at the University of Michigan and then Harvard University, where she collaborated with renowned sinologist James Robert Hightower on research about the hermit poet Tao Yuanming (365–427). In 1969, she settled in Vancouver, joining the faculty at UBC.　

Nearly a decade later, Yeh wrote to China’s Ministry of Education, offering to teach for free at mainland universities. In 1979, as China embarked on its reform and opening-up era, she returned to teach at Peking University. Within a year, she was recommended by translator Li Jiye to teach at Nankai University in Tianjin.　

Throughout her life, Yeh endured numerous hardships, including the occupation of Beijing by Japanese forces in 1937, the death of her mother when she was 17, and the tragic death of her older daughter in a car accident in Canada in 1976. Yet, despite these trials, she became one of the most respected teachers of classical Chinese poetry in contemporary China.　

From 2016 to 2019, Yeh donated about 36 million yuan (US$4.9m) from her publications and the sales of her properties to fund the study of classical Chinese culture, including the establishment of the Jialing Fund at Nankai University, The Paper reported on November 26, 2024.　

The name “Jialing” is triply important to Yeh: It was her nom de plume, the name of her university residence at Nankai, and the Chinese name for kalavinka, a bird-like creature in Buddhist mythology whose song is so beautiful that it is unforgettable.

“As for clothes, they could be replaced, but the notes from Professor Gu’s classes were irreplaceable,” Yeh said in her documentary.　

Gu Sui (1897-1960), a literary scholar, art connoisseur and Zen thinker, taught at Fu Jen Catholic University in Beijing from 1939 to 1956. Yeh, who considered him her favorite teacher, later published her class notes in his honor under his literary name, Tuo’an.　

In Poetic Remarks of Tuo’an, first published by Shanghai Classics Publishing House in 1986, she quoted Gu as saying: “The ways of the world are also the ways of poetry. A beam of sunlight breaking through an overcast sky can remind people of hope, even in turbulent times.”　

During Yeh’s university years, China was locked in a desperate fight against Japanese aggression. She witnessed the devastating effects of war, from famine to death on the streets of Beijing. The drought of 1942, which ravaged Henan, Shandong and Anhui provinces, claimed an estimated three million lives.　

Amid this hardship, Gu’s teachings on classical poetry became a source of strength and solace for Yeh. His guidance deepened her appreciation for the free spirit of Tao Yuanming, the sorrowful undertones of Tang poet Li Shangyin (813-858), and the universal compassion of Tang poet Du Fu (712-770).　

In her 2015 article remembering Gu, Yeh described her teacher as “a scholar well-versed in both classical Chinese and Western literature, with an extraordinary sensitivity to poetry. His teaching was deeply knowledgeable and profoundly emotional, inspiring all who listened to him.”　

Before Yeh left for Taiwan, Gu composed a farewell poem in which he praised her as one of the few capable of carrying forward the legacy of Chinese classics. However, their correspondence ended abruptly when Yeh and her husband were imprisoned during Taiwan’s White Terror political purges in the 1950s. Gu, unaware of her fate, passed away without hearing from her again.　

Yet his influence endured. Yeh dedicated herself fully to Chinese classical poetry, a commitment she expressed during her first lecture at Nankai University on April 24, 1979: “How should a bookworm like me contribute to my homeland? Through the immortal poetry that fills my days and nights.”　

Her audience, long deprived of exploring the humanistic and aesthetic values of classical works during the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976), was captivated.　

“No one wanted the lectures to end,” recalled Liu Yuejin, former director of the Institute of Literature at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, in an interview with Tianjin Daily in December 2024.　

Chen Hong, former vice president of Nankai University, noted that Yeh’s classes were so packed with eager students that they filled not only the lecture hall but also the stairs, windowsills and corridors. Security guards had to be stationed to maintain order.　

“Her teaching revitalized students who had entered university in 1977 and 1978 (the first two years after the national college entrance exam was reinstated), satisfying their hunger for knowledge that had been inaccessible for a decade,” Chen recalled in Yeh’s documentary.　

From 1979 onward, Yeh divided her time between Canada and China, offering free lectures on classical poetry at Chinese universities. On her first return trip to Beijing, she attempted to visit Gu’s family, only to learn that her mentor had passed away. To honor his memory, Yeh arranged for the publication of her notes and assisted Gu’s family in compiling his writings. In 2000, The Collected Writings of Gu Sui was published by Hebei Education Press.　

Gu’s diaries reveal his concern for Yeh’s struggles, including the burden of family responsibilities that hindered her work. In December 1948, he wrote, “To heaven I sighed: Why create such talent only to impede its realization?”　

In gratitude for Gu’s guidance, Yeh donated US$100,000 in the early 1990s to establish the Tuo’an Scholarship at Nankai University, which began issuing awards in 1997.

“Why are pleasant moments in my life so few? Throughout my journey, I’ve faced too many storms,” Yeh wrote in 1976 in her poem “Crying for My Daughter.”　

Her life had been tumultuous since moving to Taiwan. After her husband Chao Chung-sun was arrested during the White Terror in December 1949 for political reasons, Yeh was detained in the summer of 1950 along with their first daughter, who was an infant. Although mother and child were released a few months later, Yeh had lost her job. To support her daughter, Yeh worked in various schools.　

When her husband was freed in 1952, she was glad for the family reunion, but she never anticipated the changes in his temperament that would lead to even more suffering. Their home became a place of constant verbal and physical abuse.　

After the family emigrated to Canada, Yeh continued to endure her jobless husband’s neglect and humiliation, which included criticism of her cooking and failure to bear a son. She attempted to file for divorce in Taiwan, but Chao objected violently in court.　

As Wang pointed out, misfortune often befalls great poets, deepening their understanding of life’s philosophies, and Yeh was no exception.　

In 1978, two years after her first daughter’s death, Yeh considered teaching poetry in the Chinese mainland.　

“It’s true that I’ve endured countless personal hardships, but compared to the integrity, strong will, and profound thoughts of the great poets who illuminated the darkness, my misfortunes seem insignificant,” Yeh was quoted as saying by Xu Yan, a professor at Nanjing University, in his article “A Witness to a Century-long History.”　

Leaving her husband in Canada (who died in 2008), Yeh traveled to the mainland to teach Chinese classical poetry, driven both by a desire to contribute to her homeland and to do something meaningful. From then on, she began to plant the seeds of poetry in its native soil.　

“I didn’t have a deep understanding of classic ci and poetry, but the way she recited and taught them inspired me,” said violist Shi Yang in Yeh’s documentary.　

Having faced so many hardships, Yeh coined the poetic concept “beauty of passive virtue,” which represents persistence in adversity, perseverance through despair and hope in the darkest times.　

In 1993, to further spread the influence of Chinese poetry, she founded the Institute of Chinese Classic Culture, formerly known as the Research Institute of Comparative Literature, at Nankai University.　

From 2014, Yeh spent her final years at Jialing Academy, a residence at Nankai University that the school built for her. In gratitude, she donated most of her fortune to support research into classical literature in China.　

Her efforts to promote classical poetry also shifted online. From August 29 to September 6, 2023, Nankai University uploaded her five-hour lecture series on Chinese poetry to Douyin, garnering over 3 million views.　

On July 6, 2024, Yeh participated in a three-hour livestream to celebrate her 100th birthday according to the Chinese lunar calendar. The interactive program attracted 2.81 million viewers, with the youngest being just 12 years old.　

“I’m so pleased that so many people still appreciate classic poetry,” Yeh said to the audience.　

On November 27, 2024, three days after her death, Nankai University uploaded 10 of her classes to Douyin, which saw over 46 million views on their first day.