Han Yu: Orphan, Exile & Prose Genius

Han Yu (768 – 824 AD) was one of the greatest Chinese writers and thinkers in history.

He is particularly famous for his prose, but his poetry was also brilliant.

Writing almost 1,000 years after Han Yu’s lifetime, the Qing dynasty scholar Zhao Yi (1727 – 1814) famously said that Han Yu started the trend for:

以文为诗
Writing prose like poetry

He also altered the course of Chinese writing by advocating for classical prose (古文) and Chinese philosophy with his contribution to a Confucian revival.

His life is a tale of genius, moral uprightness, power, and exile.

Contents

Biography

Family background

Han Yu descended from a long line of Han Chinese government officials from Northern China.

During the Tang, genealogical research was highly valued. Han Yu’s was able to record his own illustrious ancestors, including: 

• Han Xin: a king of Yinchuan executed by the Han dynasty (202 BC – 9 AD, 25 – 220 AD) for defection
• Han Qi and Han Mao: Distinguished father and son Wei dynasty (386–535 AD) officials and military men

More immediately, his paternal grandfather, Han Ruisu (? – ?), was a government official and general in Guizhou. Han Yu later wrote that his grandfather “brought civilisation to the South.”

Han Yu’s father was Han Zhongqing (d. 770 AD). He too was a government official. Not much is known about him.

However, China’s most famous poet, Li Bai (701 – 762 AD) did praise him in a prose piece:

自潞州铜鞮尉调补武昌令，未下车，人惧之；既下车，人悦之。惠如春风，三月大化，奸吏束手，豪宗侧目。
‘When he arrived at his appointment as magistrate in Wuchang, before he had descended his carriage, the people feared him. However, as soon as he descended, they liked him. His kindness was like a spring breeze, and within three months there were major reforms. Rapacious officials were under control, and powerful families looked on cautiously.’

– Li Bai, extract from ‘Inscription Commemorating the Departure of Magistrate Han of Wuchang’

Han Zhongqing is also said to have had keen literary interests and talents. Unfortunately, none of his writings survive.

And his younger brother, Han Yunqing (? – ?), was also well-known for his writing ability.

Han Yunqing would prove to be a strong influence on Han Yu’s intellectual development.

Early life

The exact place of birth of Han Yu (韩愈 [Hán Yù]), courtesy name Tui Zhi, is uncertain. Accounts variously state:

• Luoyang (in today’s Henan Province), then the eastern – and secondary – capital of the Tang empire. 
• Heyang (today’s Mengzhou, Henan Province), where his own and his family’s ancestral tombs are 
• Huizhou (today’s Xiuwu County Henan Province)
• Changli (today’s Yi County, Liaoning Province)

(The An Lushan Rebellion (755 – 763 AD) broke out in the northeast of China about 15 years before his birth. This had caused his family – like many others – had migrated further south.) 

What is known for certain is that just two months after his birth, his mother passed away. And two years later, in 770 AD, his father did, too.

Fortunately for Han Yu, his elder brother, the government official Han Hui (738 – 780 AD), then raised him. Han Yu described his early circumstances later on in his writing: 

我生不辰，三岁而孤。蒙幼未知，鞠我者兄。在死而生，实维嫂恩。未乱一年，兄宦王官。提携负任，去洛居秦。念寒而衣，念饥而飨。疾疹水火，无灾及身。
My birth was not auspicious. I was orphaned at two years old and raised by my older brother. It was my sister-in-law’s kindness that rescued me from death. Before I was seven, my brother received a government post, so we left Luoyang to live in Chang’an. When I was cold, she clothed me; when I was hungry, she fed me. So, neither illness nor misfortune befell me.

– Han Yu, extract from ‘Lament for Madam Zheng’ (祭郑夫人文)

Han Hui worked as ‘the diarist of activity and repose’ during his time in Chang’an.

However, as a close associate of the prime minister Yuan Zai (? – 777 AD), Han Hui was exiled when the prime minster was executed for corruption.

Han Yu, still a child, accompanied his brother to his new post in Shaozhou (today’s Shaoyang, Hunan Province) in 777.

781 – 786 AD: Xuanzhou – Education and finding his vocation

Unfortunately, in 780 or 781, when Han Yu was about 11 years old, his brother passed away.

Because of turmoil in the north of China, Han Yu’s sister-in-law brought Han Yu with her to Xuanzhou (today’s Xuancheng, Anhui Province).

Like most boys of his class, Han Yu studied the Chinese classics in preparation for the imperial examinations from around six years old. 

Unlike many boys of his class, he seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed this. Reflecting on this just over a decade later, he wrote:

值中原之有事兮，将就食于江之南。
始专专于讲习兮，非古训为无所用其心；
窥前灵之逸迹兮，超孤举而幽寻。
既识路又疾驱兮，孰知余力之不任。
Because of the troubles on the central plains,
We went south of the river to live, 
And there I began solely to focus on study, 
Putting my mind only to the precepts of the ancients.
I spied the traces these former spirits had left behind
And rose high and alone to search out their depths.
When once I saw my road, I pulled swiftly ahead, 
never realising I lacked the strength.

– Han Yu, extract from ‘Fu on Renewing My Purpose’ (复志赋) (797 AD)

786 – 793 AD: Chang’an, exams

In 786, A very bookish and solitary 18-year-old Han Yu arrived in Chang’an, the Tang dynasty capital.

By his own admission, he was not particularly sociable. His interest appeared to lie solely in his studies. 

He was also poor and not well connected. And things looked like they would go worse when his cousin, Han Yen (753 – 787 AD) was killed fighting the Tibetan army.

Soon after this, the wealthy military governor of Henan, Ma Sui (726 – 795 AD), reached out to Han Yu.

Ma, an associate of Han Yen, appears to have taken pity on Han Yu, who he treated as a guest in his mansion.

Not long after this, in 788, Han Yu passed the provincial examination.

This enabled him to sit for the higher exam, the jinshi – passing this opened up government careers to successful candidates.

Unfortunately, he failed again in 788, 789, and 791. This was at least in part due to his failure to make a connection with his examiner.

Throughout the Tang dynasty, candidates were expected to befriend and get to know their examiners over the course of months before exams. 

This changed in later dynasties, when the relative anonymity of candidates became a crucial part of maintaining more objective assessments.

Finally, he passed on his fourth attempt in in 793.

793 – 795 AD: Higher exams and searching for work

After passing the jinshi, many candidates still had to wait for years until they received an official position.

Another option, which could fast-track their progress, was the advanced ‘vast erudition and grand composition’ (博学宏辞科).

Han Yu actually passed this exam on his first attempt. He was one of three (out of 32) successful candidates.

Unfortunately, his name was taken off the list by a leading minister due to his (Han Yu’s) associations with the examiner’s political rivals!

He next tried to travel to the military district on Fengxiang, near Chang’an (today’s Xi’an, Shaanxi Province).

He tried to find employment with the military governor there, but he was unsuccessful.

This was followed by two more unsuccessful attempts at the vast erudition and grand composition exam in 793 and 794.

And yet another unsuccessful attempt at being employed in 795 – this time by writing directly to leading government ministers.

(Given Han Yu’s later status as one of the most vastly erudite and grand masters of composition, these failures may seem strange. However, many similar examples exist throughout Chinese history.)

He headed back to his hometown in in 795. He reflected on his intellectual and personal frustration in a poem:

795 – 96 AD: Marriage and first job

795 – 96 was a turning point in Han Yu’s life. After a lot of solitary study and disappointments, things began to happen.

In fact, 796 is the only year of his adult life that there appear to be no datable writings from…

In August of 795, he gained his first government job as an inspector (推官) and collator of texts in the imperial library in Bianzhou Prefecture (today’s Kaifeng). 

And in the autumn or winter of 795, he married into the aristocratic Lu clan. This was likely arranged by the wealthy politician Ma Sui, whose own son was married to the sister of Han Yu’s wife.

His government positions were both within the lowest of the nine-rank system of Tang officials. However, Bianzhou was a critical part of the Tang empire.

(It should be noted that by this point, Han Yu was head of a household numbering nearly thirty people, including his wife, daughters, domestic staff, and more).

And Han Yu arrived there as important events unfolded…

In short, a power struggle broke out when the existing military governor died. The 28-year-old Han Yu travelled with the new governor to greet the subordinate who has assumed command of the military garrison there.

The unarmed party Han Yu was with covered 50 miles in a short space of time, knowing that a potentially violent mutiny faced them.

Fortunately, their speed and smooth handling of matters ensured peace preserved.

Around this time, despite his lack of writing, Han Yu began to gain a reputation as a learned literary man.

Visitors came and held discussions or even studied under him.

799 – 800 AD: Close call, frustration, and close call again

In 799, Dong Jin, the governor Han Yu worked under, passed away. Han Yu accompanied a party of officials taking Dong’s body back to Luoyang.

Meanwhile, back in Bianzhou, the soldiers mutinied. They caught several officials and their staff, cut them up and ate them…

Han Yu was, of course, lucky to have avoided this fate by being away at the right time.

And his family, who had still been in Bianzhou at the time, had escaped by boat along the grand canal).

Han Yu and his family found refuge in Xuzhou (in today’s Jiangsu Province) with a protégé of Ma Sui named Zhang Jianfeng (735 – 800 AD). Here he was appointed to the same role he had served in Bianzhou.

Unfortunately, relations between Han Yu and Zhang were not good.

Han Yu made clear his disapproval of Zhang’s working rules and out-of-work behaviours (including using troops to play polo, which Han Yu thought needlessly distracted and tired them).

Zhang eventually dismissed Han Yu. This was a blessing in more ways than one: the ailing Zhang died shortly after and his troops mutinied shortly after.

By this point, Han Yu was safely out of the way again, back in Luoyang.

801 – 803 AD: Teaching

In 801, Han Yu was appointed to as a professor of the University of the Sons of the State. Here, helped students prepare for the Jinshi examinations. 

Here, he gained a reputation as a great teacher able to help a high number of his students pass this prestigious exam.

Shortly after his two years working here, he reflected on the nature of taking teachers in his piece, ‘On Teachers’ (803):

古之学者必有师。师者，所以传道受业解惑也。人非生而知之者，孰能无惑？惑而不从师，其为惑也，终不解矣。
Having a teacher was a necessity to ancient scholars. Teachers transmit the Way and knowledge, and resolve doubts. People aren’t born with knowledge, so how can they be without doubts? And doubts will never be resolved without teachers.

– Han Yu, extract from ‘On Teachers’

803 – 804 AD: A memorial on famine

In 803, Han Yu was appointed to his highest government position yet as ‘censor in the court of outside inquiries’.

This was a time of tense political intrigue and in-fighting in the imperial court. To make matters worse, drought and famine appeared in 803. 

The same year, Han Yu submitted a memorial to the Emperor Dezong (r. 779 – 805 AD).

右臣伏以今年已来，京畿诸县，夏逢亢旱，秋又早霜，田种所收，十不存一。[…]
至闻有弃子逐妻，以求口食；坼屋伐树，以纳税钱；寒馁道途，毙踣沟壑。[…] 伏乞特敕京兆府，应今年税钱及草粟等在百姓腹内征未得者，并且停征，容至来年，蚕麦庶得，少有存立。
Your subject submits that, this year, districts around the capital have suffered from summer  drought and an early autumn frost. As a result, nine-tenths of the crops have failed […] 
  There is news of some abandoning their children and driving off their wives to preserve food. Others have torn down their houses and felled their trees to pay taxes […]
I humbly request that you be gracious enough to order the Metropolitan Prefecture to waive taxes and deliveries of hay and grain not yet collected from the people this year until the silkworm and wheat harvests next year […]

– Han Yu, extract from ‘Censorial Memorial on Drought and Famine’ (803) (御史台上论天旱人饥状)

The emperor saw this memorial as criticism and Han yu was punished by being sent into exile south in Lianzhou (in today’s Guangdong Province).

This would not be the first time Han Yu would get himself in trouble with memorials to the throne.

805 – 816 AD: Return to politics

In 805 the Emperor Dezhong died. During the the brief reign of Emperor Shunzong (r. February – August 805), a general amnesty was announced that enabled Han Yu to return from exile.

The amnesty remained in place under the Emperor Xianzong (r. 805 – 820). Han Yu was appointed administrator of judiciary services. 

And then, in 806, Xianzong issued a decree that offered 100 official positions at the Imperial University in the capital.

Han Yu was recommended by the then prime Minister, Zheng Yuqing (748 – 820 AD). 

He was in this role for about three years, when he was transferred to the post of ‘auxiliary secretary in the Bureau of Prisons’ and – concurrently – as a member of the Bureau of Sacrifices. This was a big step up in his career. 

Meanwhile, He had been writing some of his greatest poetry and prose to date, including what many consider to be his greatest poem, ‘Autumn Sentiments’.

Han Yu was appointed to a number of provincial positions in the following years, both in Chang’an and Henan (roles in the capital were still considered provincial at a certain level).

His upright and outspoken nature led him into conflict with court eunuchs and corrupt officials.

My duties have bought me into daily conflict with the eunuchs. They wait for me to make a mistake, utter calumnies and slander against me, and create disorder amongst the official documents.

– Han Yu

816 – 817 AD: Rising status, an end to war

In 816, Han Yu was appointed imperial palace secretary. This was his highest position yet, which him in regular contact with the emperor. 

Unfortunately for Han Yu, he was demoted a few months later when anti-war faction in government managed to gain the upper hand in an internal political struggle. 

A potential internal rebellion, complete with raids, was brewing in Caizhou (today’s Zhumadian, Henan Province). Government officials argued over whether or not to crush this. 

Finally, in 817, a daring raid during a snowstorm by government forces retook the rebel’s garrison.

Han Yu, then back in imperial favour, spent two months on a commission from the emperor to write an account of the events.

818 AD: The Buddha’s finger bone

In 818, Han Yu was fifty years old and at the height of his official career. 

But his life – and the lives of family – changed drastically for him when wrote a certain memorial to the emperor.

It began when it was announced that a relic, purported by the faithful to be the Buddha’s finger, was due to come to the Forbidden City (where the emperor lived in the capital).

The emperor himself had ordered his eunuchs to keep the relic in the Forbidden City for three days.

It was even designated the status of ‘Protector of the Nation’. Enthusiastic crowds gathered to visit it.

Han Yu’s memorial took the usual stance of a memorial to an emperor – a polite, humble suggestion that doesn’t directly blame the emperor for anything. 

However, it was unusually bold in the claims it made and the taboos it touched upon.

For example, it highlighted previous emperors who had embraced Buddhism and then not lived long afterwards.

夫佛本夷狄之人，与中国言语不通，衣服殊制，口不言先王之法言，身不服先王之法服，不知君臣之义、父子之情。[…]
   况其身死已久，枯朽之骨，凶秽之馀，岂宜令入宫禁？
The Buddha was a barbarian. With his language he could not have communicated with the people of China, and his dress was different to ours. He did not speak in the manner of our ancient kings, nor was his body clad like theirs. He did not know the proper relationship between rulers and ministers and the affection between father and son. […]
Now that he has been dead for a long time, why should we let his decayed and rotten bones, an ill-omened and filthy relic, enter the Forbidden City of the palace?

-Han Yu, extract from ‘Memorial on the Buddha’s Bone’

It is difficult to see how he could not have expected the emperor to be offended.

And offended the emperor was…

In fact, he even wanted Han Yu to be executed. But in the end, ministers persuaded him that exile was sufficient punishment.

Anti-Buddhist sentiment in Tang China

To fully understand the above incident, it’s worth knowing a bit about the background to anti-Buddhism in Tang China.

Buddhism had first entered China during the Han dynasty (202 BC – 9 AD, 25–220 AD).

It successfully found adherents across the nation, even taking on a uniquely Chinese version in ‘Chan (禅) Buddhism’.

By the Tang dynasty, the number of Buddhist temples in the capital (Chang’an), outnumbered the number of Daoist temples. 

To some Daoist and Confucian adherents and intellectuals, this was unacceptable.

After all, many of them argued (often more vociferously than Han Yu did), this foreign religion: 

• Competed with and contradicted Daoism and Confucianism
• Encouraged self-mutilation 
• Caused adherents to withdraw from society and not pay taxes

Etc. 

Shortly after Han Yu’s lifetime, the Emperor Wuzong (r. 840 – 846) aggressively persecuted Buddhists, especially in the last two years of his reign.

However, this was not the norm throughout the dynasty (and thereafter). 

As Han Yu found out: the official stance towards Buddhism was generally toleration and even acceptance.

819 AD: Exile

Han Yu was sent into exile in Chaozhou (in today’s Guangdong Province).

Today, of course, Guangdong has long been a prosperous part of China.

However, back during the Tang dynasty, places this far south often led to suffering or even death for officials.

There was often a risk of malaria and other discomforts that came with the subtropical climate, different diet, customs, etc. 

Furthermore, the locals often did not speak mutually intelligible forms Chinese. And when officials arrived at these locations, they were expected to work (administrating the region) for little or no pay.

The journey itself was incredibly long and arduous. The distance between Chang’an and Chaozhou is approximately 1,100 miles (1, 770 km).

To make matters even worst for Han Yu, his fourth daughter, Han Na (808 – 819 AD), died en route into exile.

我既南行，家亦随谴。扶汝上舆，走朝至暮。天雪冰寒，伤汝羸肌。撼顿险阻，不得少息。不能饮食，又使渴饥。死于穷山，实非其命。不免水火，父母之罪。使汝至此，岂不缘我。草葬路隅，棺非其棺。
   After I went south [into exile], the authorities held that the criminal’s family could not remain in the capital, so they were forced into exile also. My daughter Na was eleven. She was already ill and sick with fear at the separation from her father. Furthermore, she suffered from the shaking and jolting of travel by sedan chair and from the irregularity of meals. She died at the Cengfeng Post station near Shangnan and was buried in the hills off to the south of the road.

– Han Yu, extract from ‘Lament for my Daughter Na’ (819) (祭女挐女文)

About a year later, when he passed by the grave again, he was more direct about his feelings in his writing:

致汝无辜由我罪，百年惭痛泪阑干。
Your innocence was brought to this by my guilt – A hundred years of shame, remorse, and tears.

Han Yu, extract from ‘Last Year I Was Exiled from the Ministry of Justice To Be Prefect of Chaozhou and Set Off on the Post Road to Take Up My Position; Later My Family Was Also Banished. My Daughter Died on the Road and Was Buried in The Mountains by the Cengfeng Post Station. Now I have Been Pardoned and on My Return to the Capital, I Pass by Her Grave and Inscribe This On the Beam of the Post Station’ (去岁自刑部侍郎以罪贬潮州刺史乘驿赴任其后家亦谴逐小女道死殡之层峰驿山下蒙恩还朝过其墓留题驿梁)

The travel also brought back memories of Han Yu’s brother’s exile decades before:

Han Yu continued to loyally and diligently carry out his work as a government official in Chaozhou. He even ended of child slavery in the region and setting up of a Confucian school.

820 AD – 824 AD: Return to Chang’an and passing

Han Yu was recalled from exile in November 820, when he was appointed the rector of the Imperial University. 

In 822, he was transferred to the position of vice president of the Ministry of War.

Later the same year he become vice president of the Ministry of Personnel. And finally, he returned to the same Ministry of War role.

In the summer of 824, he requested – and was granted – sick leave. By autmn, he resigned from his role. And on December 25^th, he passed away. 

His last poem was written just a couple of months before his death:

况当今夕圆，又以嘉客随。
惜无酒食乐，但用歌嘲为。
Tonight’s [moon’s] roundness be better [than before]
with fine guests for company here. 
I regret that I can’t enjoy more food and wine, 
but I can still partake in poetry and laughter.

– Han Yu, extract from ‘Enjoying the Moon, I Rejoice at the Arrival of Auxiliary Secretary Chang and Librarian Wang’ (玩月喜张十八员外以王六秘书至)

Prose writing

Han Yu has long been famous primarily for his prose writing. 

He is credited by many with elevating the classical prose essay (古文) to the status of a major art form.

Su Shi (1037 – 1101) famously wrote:

故诗至于杜子美，文至于韩退之，书至于颜鲁公，画至于吴道子，而古今之变 [….] 
[In the Tang] poetry reached Du Fu, prose reached Han Yu, calligraphy reached Yan Zhenqing, and painting reached Wu Daozi. [….]

-Su Shi, ‘After Writing a Colophon on a Wu Daozi Painting’ (1085)

Su himself was later categorised one of ‘Eight Great Prose Masters of the Tang and Song’ (唐宋八大家)alongside Han Yu and:

• Sun Xun (1009 – 1066 AD)
• Su Zhe (1039 – 1112 AD)
• Liu Zongyuan (773 – 819 AD)
• Ouyang Xiu (1007 – 1072 AD)
• Wang Anshi (1021 – 1086 AD)
• Zeng Gong (1019 – 1083).

In Song times, Han Yu’s essay writing was summarised pithily with the phrase ‘with prose made verse’ (以文为诗).

To modern readers, this phrase likely conjures up an image of a flamboyant, poetic way of writing prose (perhaps something akin to Nabokov’s writing). 

However, many of Han Yu’s contemporaries saw his prose style as relatively blunt and awkward. 

This is partly because they weren’t used to it. And partly because it contrasted so sharply with the style of times. 

From ‘parallel prose’ (pianwen) to classical prose (guwen)

Han Yu is credited with significantly changing how Chinese prose was written. 

The popular prose style before Han Yu was parallel prose (pianwen) was commonly used for prose writing.

It had strict rules around creating ‘parallel lines’ that followed tonal and grammatical.This often included relatively clichéd, stock phrases and idioms to fit the form.

Han Yu wasn’t the first to want to suggest move away from this style of writing. 

In fact, a generation before him, Xiao Yingshi (706 – 58), Li Hua (715 – 66), Jia Zhi (718 – 72) and Dugu Ji (725 – 77) discussed the ideas that began what developed into the guwen movement.

These writers had all lived through the devastating An Lushan Rebellion. And any of them blamed the rebellion on a decline in Confucian values.

They wanted to go back to Confucian texts in order to get closer to its morality, which in turn – they reasoned – would help the empire’s unity. And part of doing this was getting closer to the language of the classics.

This also meant favouring the original texts over commentaries in recent centuries.

So, in terms of writing, this means abandoning forms that deviated from how the original texts were written.

In this sense, the movement was not dissimilar to the Reformation in Europe, where protestants favoured translating and interpreting the bible themselves. 

Han Yu stated:

春秋三传束高阁
独抱遗经究终始
The three Spring and Autumn Annals commentaries put in the loft. 
Alone examining the text, investigating it from start to finish.

-Han Yu, ‘Sent to Lu Tong’

He also described his process of getting his writing up to the ideal (or as close as possible) he aimed for.

抑又有难者 [….] 学之二十余年矣。始者，非三代两汉之书不敢观，非圣人之志不敢存。[….] 当其取于心而注于手也，惟陈言之务去，戛戛乎其难哉！[….] 如是者亦有年，犹不改。然后识古书之正伪，与虽正而不至焉者[….] 当其取于心而注于手也，汩汩然来矣。[….] 如是者亦有年，然后浩乎其沛然矣。吾又惧其杂也，迎而距之，平心而察之，其皆醇也，然后肆焉。虽然，不可以不养也，行之乎仁义之途，游之乎诗书之源，无迷其途，无绝其源，终吾身而已矣。
[‘Establishing one’s words’] is difficult. I have worked towards this for twenty years. At the start, I only dared read works from the Three Dynasties and two Han dynasty periods. I retained only what the sages’ intentions were. [….] When I took something from my mind to my hand [wrote it out], I diligently removed old clichés, the result was scrappy and difficult! [….]
    I continued on like this for many years without changing. I began to discern the true from the false in ancient writings. And what was genuine but imperfect. [….] When I took something from my mind to my hand, it came out in torrents. [….]
   I continued on like this for many years and my writing began to gush like a great current.
Yet I was afraid it might still be mixed up. So, I faced and restrained it and examined it with a calm mind before letting it flow. 
  Nevertheless, I can’t be lax and not nourish it. I must bring it along the paths of humaneness (ren) and justice – to its sources in the Classic of Poetry and Book of Documents. For the rest of my days, I mustn’t lose these paths or get cut off from these sources.

– Han Yu, ‘Reply to Li Yi’

Han Yu did not advocate imitating ancient Confucian thought. He advocated internalising and assimilating to it.

In the process, he also popularised different genres of prose writing, such as:

• Letters
• Allegorical biographies (for example, ‘Biography of Wang Chengfu’)
• Prefaces.

After Han Yu’s lifetime, the guwen movement that he helped spur on would go on transform how classical prose was written for centuries.

Over four centuries later, Zhu Xi (1130 – 1300 AD) stated that the most important features of Han Yu’s contribution to prose were ‘removing old clichés’ and writing prose that was ‘fluent and readable’ (文从字顺).

Poetry

Han Yu’s poetry has long been viewed by critics as secondary to his prose.

For example, the Yuan dynasty scholar Wu Qiuyan (1268 – 1311 AD) remarked:

The prose of Han Yu is on a par with the Analects and Mencius. And yet he enjoyed the poetry of Lu T’ung, Liu Ch’a, and Meng Chiao; and in his own works he imitated their diction. How could his poetry and his prose be so different!

Quoted in Hartman, Charles, Han Yü and The Search for T’ang Unity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986), p. 216

However, this sentiment often overlooks the fact that categories of prose and poetry were not as distinct during Han Yu’s day as they were later on.

(A modern Western equivalent can be seen in, for example, the blurred lines between some short stories and personal essays.)

Hartman believes that remarks by Qing dynasty scholar Zhao Yi (1727 – 1814) are ‘among the keenest observations made on the poetry of Han Yu’. Zhao’s remarks place Han Yü’s poetry in its historical context:

Han Yü strove his whole life to emulate and to trace the works of Li Po [Li Bai] and Tu Fu [Du Fu]. But prior to Li Po and Tu Fu there was no one of their stature, so their brilliance was domineering and knew no restraint; each opened new vistas in his poetry and has remained unique for a thousand years.
   But for Han Yü’s generation Li Po and Tu Du already existed, so although he worked hard at innovation and change, in the end he could not open yet another path. Only among Tu Fu’s unconventional and unprecedented (ch’i hsien [qixian]) was there still some possibility for further development. So Han Yü fixed on these with a steady gaze, intending from them to open up new territory and form his own style. And it was here he focused his attention. 
   But such passages have both good and bad aspects. Han Yü worked singlemindedly to perfect what Tu Fu had achieved through an occasional brilliant insight, and therefore one sees the scars of an ax and chisel in Han Yü’s poetry. It is the difference between being intentional and being unintentional.
   Yet Han Yü’s poetry actually possesses its own distinctive flavor, which resides in the principle of diction that is fluid and apt – a flavor naturally powerful, intense, expansive, and unpredictable. One cannot through unconventionality alone realize its merits. I am afraid even Han Yü himself may not have realized this point, but if you read him with an unbiased mind, you will realize it for yourself. To seek Han Yü only in his unconventionality is to miss his essence. 

Quoted in Hartman, Charles, Han Yü and The Search for T’ang Unity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986), p. 268

The below poem, ‘Dispirited’, is a good example of Han Yu’s blurring of poetry and prose.

Its irregular line lengths (11, 6, 11, 10, 7, 7 characters respectively) make it appear almost like piece of prose. Their seeming unrestrained nature also further add to the sense of escape from constraint in the poem’s content.

Philosophy

The guwen movement’s ultimate goal was to revive Confucianism. It was successful in doing this. 

In the centuries leading up to the Tang dynasty, Buddhism and Daoist dark studies (玄学) had grown.

Overall, Buddhism was the most influential of the two during the Tang (barring a brief crackdown shortly after Han’s lifetime). Its temples outnumbered Daoist temples, which outnumbered and Confucian ones.

To Han Yu, this was a unfortunate. Before that, he wrote, true Confucian knowledge of the way (dao) had passed along a clear path:

尧以是传之舜，舜以是传之禹，禹以是传之汤，汤以是传之文、武、周公，文、武、周公传之孔子，孔子传之孟轲，轲之死，不得其传焉 […] Yao passed it onto Shun, Shun passed it onto Yu, Yu passed it onto Tang, Tang passed it onto Wen [who passed it on] to Wu, Wu to the Duke of Zhou [who passed it onto] and Confucius, [to] Mengzi. With Mengzi’s death, the passing on was cut off.

– Han Yu, ‘Origins of the Way’

And since the Han dynasty (206 AD – 220 BC), Han Yu declared, there had only been one important Confucian scholar: Fan Zongshi: (766 – 824).

The disconnection from true Confucianism had consequences. It meant that on an individual level, people did not cultivate themselves correctly.

And so, at a societal level, disunity and moral failings – and therefore political instability – across the empire were inevitable.

By the Song dynasty (960 – 1279 AD), Han Yu’s line of thought was developed further.

This led to the emergence of Neo-Confucianism, the most influential ideology in China for nearly a thousand years.