The Plum Garden was Yu You-ren’s summer retreat. The inscription “Plum Garden” beside its front gate is in his own calligraphy.

As we exit the Xin­bei­tou MRT station, the Beitou Hot Spring Museum can be seen at a short distance on the right. The smell of sulfur wafts faintly on the wind, and trees provide dappled shade. Small groups of two or three strollers, young and old alike, bask in the pleasant atmosphere, chatting as they head uphill. After ten minutes or so, they arrive at a low-walled residential compound nestled behind the museum. This is the Plum Garden, the late-in-life retreat of politician and calligrapher Yu You-ren.

Built in the late 1930s, the Plum Garden is one of Bei­tou’s fanciest residential compounds dating from the Japanese era. It occupies nearly 1000 square meters, and its two-story architecture blends Japanese and Western forms. The upper level is in the Japanese style with black roof tiles and a stone base, whereas the lower level, constructed out of reinforced concrete, is Western in style and once served as an air-raid shelter. Ownership changed several times over the decades, before the house became structurally unsound and stood abandoned for several years. After renovations and reconstruction, it was designated a Taipei City historic site and opened to the public. Yu You-ren’s in-town residence on Qing­tian Street was torn down long ago, so the Plum Garden is one of the few buildings left to provide a glimpse of how Yu lived in his later years.

The greatest of his generation

Born in 1879 in San­yuan County of ­Shaanxi Province, mainland China, Yu came of age during the late Qing Dynasty and was a founding member of the KMT. One of his most striking physical features was his beautiful chest-length beard. Early on he put out a newspaper in Shang­hai that served as a mouthpiece for revolution. He then attained high positions within the government, serving as president of the Control Yuan for 34 years, the longest tenure in the institution’s history. Apart from his work in government and politics, he also earned renown as a calligrapher, specializing in “grass” (or cursive) script. His collection of calligraphies by various masters—Standard Grass Script—earned him kudos as the greatest grass-script maven of his generation. In 1964 Yu passed away in Tai­pei’s Veterans General Hospital at the age of 85.

In 1949 Yu decamped to Taiwan with the KMT government. He was an old man, already in his 70s, and the Plum Garden would serve as his retreat from the world in his last years. The garden’s director Xiao Wei­ren and tour guide He Sen­yuan say that Yu came to the Plum Garden to “retreat” from three things: the summer heat, celebrations of his birthdays, and lobbyists. Back then the Plum Garden was truly removed from the hustle and bustle of the city. Without any surrounding high rises, he enjoyed the views of verdant hillsides and Beitou Creek and he took dips in nearby hot springs. For the last 12 years of his life, the Plum Garden was Yu’s home away from his home on Qing­tian Street. It was a ­Shangri- La for him in old age. The characters “Plum Garden” carved beside its front gate are in his own calligraphy. 

All the while he held true to his life mission of promoting the art of calligraphy. When fans came to ask him to brush something, he almost never refused. It’s said that some 10,000 of his calligraphies ended up in private hands. The Plum Garden also exhibits many of his calligraphic engravings. His calligraphy “Din Tai Fung, Purveyor of Oils” is still in the possession of the renowned restaurant chain. Another one of his famous works hangs in a corner of the Plum Garden residence: “Bring conscience to Heaven and Earth, secure the people’s livelihood, carry the torch for the ancient sages, establish peace for future generations.”

Now in her sixties, Liu Bin­bin is one of the few living people who knew Yu firsthand. Her father Liu Yan­tao, a member of the Control Yuan himself, was a painter and calligrapher who served as Yu’s right-hand man. Liu was a key figure in helping Yu with the Standard Grass Scriptproject. The two were very friendly, and Liu once lived for a period at Yu’s official residence in Nan­jing. In 1950, Yu decamped with the Nationalist government to Taiwan, and Liu and his wife Chen Shi­xiang lived in Yu’s house on Qing­tian Street for a year. Yu was also many times the guest of the Liu family in ­Zhonghe. The two households were extremely close.

For the 34 years after Yu passed away, up until he himself died in 1998, Liu Yan­tao regarded promoting Standard Grass Script as his solemn duty. At that point, Liu Bin­bin picked up the torch and founded the Liu Yan­tao Foundation. Among the succession of photographs and calligraphies that have been exhibited at the Plum Garden, many have come from Liu family collections.

Benefit for all the world

Standard Grass Script was one of Yu’s great achievements. Liu Bin­bin explains that in past eras calligraphers couldn’t even read each other’s grass script. The publishing of Yu’s book served as a means to unify a fractured nation. She vividly recalls her father Liu Yan­tao describing how the book was created: “Back then they didn’t have photocopiers or the Internet. There was a team of eight or nine people that collectively searched for the grass-script calligraphy of great masters, bringing together some 60,000 characters of calligraphic text. They organized and analyzed the works, discussing which types they wanted to include. Sometimes they stayed up into the wee hours, and sometimes the arguments got heated.” Laughing, she continues: “My father was spending more time back then with Master Yu than with my mother and me.”

Liu Bin­bin shares another, less-well-known anecdote: One year, a young man from southern or central Taiwan scored high enough on the joint entrance exam to enroll in a university back when it wasn’t easy to get into college. But the student’s family was poor and couldn’t afford to pay the tuition. His father heard that Yu You-ren loathed seeing talent go to waste, so he went to the Control Yuan and asked to see its president in the hope of borrowing money to pay the university. After Yu learned of the situation, he ordered his deputy to arrange with the accounting office for an advance against Yu’s own salary, which was given to the student’s father.

More than just a calligrapher, Yu was also an educator. He found great joy in serving as a mentor to younger generations. Yu took Liu Bin­bin’s father Liu Yan­tao under his wing when Liu was still a student at Peking University. Yu was involved in the founding of many educational institutions in the early 20th century, including Fu­dan Public School (now Fu­dan University), China Public High School, National Northwest Senior College of Agriculture and Forestry (now Northwest A&F University), and Shang­hai University. All are highly esteemed today. “By gaining knowledge about what kind of person Yu was, I have come to a better understanding of why my father spent a life by his side,” says Liu Bin­bin earnestly. “He was so warm and selfless toward others. He devoted his life to his country. He was a great Chinese and deserves to be honored by later generations.”

Apart from Establish Peace for Future Generations, the most famous calligraphy of Yu’s before he died was one he gave to President ­Chiang ­Ching-kuo: “In calculating benefit, calculate it for all the world. In seeking fame, seek renown that lasts 10,000 years.” In Liu Bin­bin’s eyes, Yu was indeed himself able to render “benefit for all the world.”

Plum blossoms, beautiful and aloof

In fact, the Plum Garden was not so named because it contained plum trees. According to Yu Zhong­ling, Yu You-ren’s third son, it was given that name simply because his father appreciated plum blossoms. The two plum trees now in the garden were in fact planted much later, by former ROC president Lee Teng-hui and Tai­pei City mayor Hao Lung-pin. The aloofness of the plum blossom signifies high integrity: Without suffering the biting cold, one cannot enjoy the plum blossom’s sweet scent. Yu’s personal history echoed the ups and downs of the nation. He kept his faith in troubled times and remained uncorrupted, and he left behind only calligraphies, the cloth shoes his wife Gao Zhong­lin made for him, and IOUs. It may well be that no image is more suited to his life than the austerely beautiful plum blossom.

As spring gives way to summer, the Plum Garden extends its arms to embrace visitors, who mill about its leafy back garden and gain an understanding of the life and work of the compound’s former inhabitant, the calligraphic master Yu You-ren.